was all grist to their mill, for the Grand Inquisitor got a rake-off on all prosecutions, and in those good old days it cost more to break a human being on the wheel than to feed him and care for him in jail. The great Napoleon, you once told me, found some three hundred crowned leeches infesting Germany when he started to break up their little game. What do you suppose they lived on, those kinglets, princes, graves and dukes—on the dog tax? No, most of them lived on the interest of the fortunes their ancestors had accumulated by prosecuting and burning witches."
Some years later Mark related the story of our search for the Witch Hammer before a motley crowd of litterateurs at Brown's Hotel, London. "Fine," said Bram Stoker, "tell us some more; I have a short story on witchcraft in hand."
"In that case," said Mark, "don't forget Henry VIII, Elizabeth and the first James. Wife-killing Henry started the witch-burning business in 'merry' England, Elizabeth revived the sport, and the son of Mary Stuart, whose Bible lies on every drawing-room table at home, used both pen and axe to exterminate witches and 'demons.' I read up closely on the subject when I got down to Joan of Arc's trial."
Some of our English friends didn't seem pleased with Mark's reminiscences of British intolerance. "What about Salem?" asked one of them.
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