Dominique Raffin, dressed in somber black, went to the club alone and unattended save by Miss Aphrodite Tate.  San Juan, fearing the Raffin mulatto and his ghostly powers, had held its respectful distance ever since the evening when Ambrose and his rage had revealed them.  Familiarity breeding contempt, Miss Aphrodite knew her man, and feared him not.

They found the rooms of the social club full of excited negroes, for never before in San Juan’s history had such a momentous event been scheduled.  Raffin and Aphrodite were received with a fearsome respect by Behemoth Scott, who had been appointed master of ceremonies.

“Jes’ make yo’se’f to home,” he greeted them.  “Mista Travis ain’t come yit; we has ten minutes befo’ de contes’ styarts.”

At last, with a bare minute to spare, Ambrose smilingly entered.  He wore his splendid full-dress suit, a wonderful creation of San Juan’s leading tailor, who, at Ambrose’s tasteful suggestion, had faced the lapels with satin of the most royal purple.  Set out by this background of colourful lapel was a huge yellow chrysanthemum, while on the broad red band that diagonally traversed his shining shirt front glittered like a decoration, the insignia from his Swalecliffe uniform cap.

“Good evenin’, folks,” was his cheerful greeting.  “If you-all is quite ready fo’ dis see-ance, an’ provided mah—­er—­wuthy opponent am ready, Ah’d jes’ as soon proceed.”

Miss Aphrodite gazed on the imposing figure of Ambrose with more than a little admiration.  Comparing him with the trembling Raffin, she found much in his favour.

All but his footwear.  Accustomed as she had become to the glistening patent leathers affected by Raffin, Ambrose’s clumsy congress gaiters somewhat marred his gorgeousness.  Nevertheless, she felt her affections wavering.  Her speculations were interrupted by the voice of the master of ceremonies: 

“Ladies an’ gennlemen,” began Mr. Scott, “we-all has d ’cided to form a circle of twelve of our membahs wif dese two Voodoo gennlemen asettin’ opp’site each oder in de circle.  In o’dah to preclude any poss’bility of either Mista Travis or Mista Raffin from leavin’ dere places, we has d’cided to tie dem to dere cheers by ropes passed ‘roun’ dere bodies an’ fastened to de backs of de cheers.  De lights will den be distinguished.  When he lights is tu’ned out, Mista Raffin will be given fifteen minutes in which to summon de supernat’ral proofs—­whatevah dey may be—­of his bein’ Voodoo.  Den Mista Travis will be given his chanct.”

Amid the hushed whisperings of the assemblage the committee, six men and six women, Aphrodite included, took their places in the circle.  Ambrose and the mulatto were seated opposite each other and were perhaps twelve feet apart.  Raffin, nervously licking his lips, sat bolt upright while members of the committee passed ropes around him and the back of his chair, and tied his hands.  In direct contrast to his rival, Ambrose slouched down in his seat and joked with the trembling members as they secured him in his place.