“To follow Surtur.”

“True.  But where is he?”

“Closer at hand than you think, perhaps.”

“Do you know that he is regarded as a god here, Krag?...  There is supernatural fire, too, which I have been led to believe is somehow connected with him....  Why do you keep up the mystery?  Who and what is Surtur?”

“Don’t disturb yourself about that.  You will never know.”

“Do you know?”

“I know,” snarled Krag.

“The devil here is called Krag,” went on Maskull, peering into his face.

“As long as pleasure is worshiped, Krag will always be the devil.”

“Here we are, talking face to face, two men together....  What am I to believe of you?”

“Believe your senses.  The real devil is Crystalman.”

They continued descending the landslip.  The sun’s rays had grown insufferably hot.  In front of them, down below in the far distance, Maskull saw water and land intermingled.  It appeared that they were travelling toward a lake district.

“What have you and Nightspore been doing during the last four days, Krag?  What happened to the torpedo?”

“You’re just about on the same mental level as a man who sees a brand-new palace, and asks what has become of the scaffolding.”

“What palace have you been building, then?”

“We have not been idle,” said Krag.  “While you have been murdering and lovemaking, we have had our work.”

“And how have you been made acquainted with my actions?”

“Oh, you’re an open book.  Now you’ve got a mortal heart wound on account of a woman you knew for six hours.”

Maskull turned pale.  “Sneer away, Krag!  If you lived with a woman for six hundred years and saw her die, that would never touch your leather heart.  You haven’t even the feelings of an insect.”

“Behold the child defending its toys!” said Krag, grinning faintly.

Maskull stopped short.  “What do you want with me, and why did you bring me here?”

“It’s no use stopping, even for the sake of theatrical effect,” said Krag, pulling him into motion again.  “The distance has got to be covered, however often we pull up.”

When he touched him, Maskull felt a terrible shooting pain through his heart.

“I can’t go on regarding you as a man, Krag.  You’re something more than a man—­whether good or evil, I can’t say.”

Krag looked yellow and formidable.  He did not reply to Maskull’s remark, but after a pause said, “So you’ve been trying to find Surtur on your own account, during the intervals between killing and fondling?”

“What was that drumming?” demanded Maskull.

“You needn’t look so important.  We know you had your ear to the keyhole.  But you could join the assembly, the music was not playing for you, my friend.”

Maskull smiled rather bitterly.  “At all events, I listen through no more keyholes.  I have finished with life.  I belong to nobody and nothing any more, from this time forward.”