Shortly before midnight all three met again, and at once commenced preparations for the second test.  The question arose as to who should hold Satan.  They all had vivid recollections of the cat’s behaviour the previous night; consequently no one was anxious to officiate.  Finally they drew lots, and fate settled on Curtis.  An exciting chase now began.  Satan, demonstrating his resentment of their treatment of him, at every turn, knocked over a water bottle, ripped the skin of Kelson’s knuckles, and made his teeth meet in the fleshy part of Curtis’s thumb.

“Hulloa! what are you up to?” Curtis savagely demanded, as Hamar thrust a cup at him.

“Hold your hand over it!” Hamar said sharply.  “Don’t suck it!  We want blood for this test and for the next.”

“I wish the brute had bitten you!” Curtis snarled; “then, perhaps, you wouldn’t be so precious keen on economics.  You did right to name it Satan! and if it doesn’t attract devils nothing will.  I’m not going to touch it again.  See if you can hold the beast by yourself, Matt!  It seems to be less afraid of you than of either of us.”

Kelson called out:  “Puss!”, and the cat at once came to him.

As it was now striking twelve, Hamar carefully shook three drops of Curtis’s blood from the cup on to Satan’s back, while he instructed Kelson to rub the animal’s coat with the palm of the hand.  Kelson cautiously obeyed.  There was a loud crackling and a shower of sparks, of the same lurid red colour as the reflection in the mirror on the previous night, flew out into the enveloping darkness.

“That will do!” Hamar observed quietly.  “Test two is satisfactorily accomplished.  We must be riper for Hell than we imagined.  There is no need for you fellows to stay any longer.  I can manage the third test alone.”

As soon as his colleagues had gone and he felt assured they were no longer within hearing, Hamar took a saucer from the mantelshelf, filled it half full of milk, and poured into it some colourless liquid out of a tiny phial labelled poison.

“Here pussy,” he called out, softly.  “Pretty pussy, come and have your supper!  Pussy!”

And Satan, unable to resist the tempting sight of the milk, crept out of his hiding-place and quite unsuspiciously dipped his tongue into the saucer and lapped.  Hamar, in the meanwhile went to a box at the foot of the bed and produced a sack.  Then he slipped on his boots and coat, and opening the door of a cupboard near the head of the bed fetched out a small spade.

He was now ready; and—­so was pussy.

“That paves the way for test six,” Hamar observed; “no one can say I am a waster—­I make use of everything—­and every one;” and so saying he tumbled the cat into the sack and hurried out.