From the vault of the master, a classic story of Witchcraft and Satanism. The man in the hospital room died a terrible death, slowly and in agony. His eyes were open, and on his face was an extraordinary expression of terror, a fear mixed with horror. There was nothing all the resources of medical science could do for him, not even to diagnose his disease. There was no wound, no mark, nothing—except little globes of phosphorescence in his blood. And suddenly, at the last moment, a low chuckling sound came from his throat, inhuman, the laughter of a devil.