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“The headmaster was a proper churchgoer,” began Hoag, as though he were the spokesman for the group. “He didn’t have any use for devils or devil-worship. Went on record against them when he addressed us in chapel. That was what started us.” “Right,” nodded Andoff, turning up his fat, larval face. “Anything he outlawed, we wanted to do. Isn’t that logic?” “Logic and reason,” wound up Felcher. His hairy right hand twiddled on the sill near Setwick’s thigh. In the moonlight it looked like a big, nervous spider. Hoag resumed. “I don’t know of any prohibition of his it was easier or more fun to break.” Setwick found that his mouth had gone dry. His tongue could barely moisten his lips. “You mean,” he said, “that you began to worship devils?”