Deep in the heart of the Caucasus Mountains a wild storm was gathering. Night was approaching. The monks who inhabited the mountain eyrie assembled in their little chapel. A haunting sense of the Supernatural seemed to permeate that deep hush and dense shadow. A stranger had arrived that evening at the monastery. He had come to ask questions -- deeply bothersome questions. The light from an open door streamed fully upon he senior monk as he advanced. "Pardon!" said the stranger, hastily. "I should like to speak to you." "By all means!" "I was told that you were chiefly known in Paris as being the possessor of some mysterious internal force. "There is such a thing," said the monk. "What of it?"
