And even as she spoke, out of the dull and menacing horror of
the symbols, into my mind, leaped terrible comprehension.
I said coolly: "It must have been Amochol— and his Erie
sorcerers! How came you in Catharines-town?"
"I? In Catharines-town!" she faltered. "Was I, then, ever
there?"
I pointed at the drawing of the dead white dog.
"Somebody saved you from that hellish sacrifice. I tell you it
is plain enough to read. The rite is practiced only by the red
sorcerers of the Senecas… . Look! It was because your 'neck' was
'white'! Look again! Here is the symbol of the Cat-People— the
Eries— the acolytes of Amochol— here! This spread lynx-pad with
every separate claw extended! Yet, it is drawn severed— in symbol
of your escape. Lois! Lois! It is plain enough. I follow it all—
al
