Portrait of a Man with Red Hair — Hugh Walpole

Hesther stared in horror at hideous Mr. Crispin as if he were the devil himself!
His skin, beneath hair the color of hell's flames, was deathly white.
His mouth was a thin, vicious slash of red.
And on the finger of one hand was a sinister, hypnotic green stone that held Hesther spellbound.
She tried to fight this evil man with every shred of strength left of her shattered nerves and tortured body. For Mr. Crispin had selected her as a human sacrifice to prove his insane theory that only by committing murder could he become a god among men.
How many more nights could Hesther withstand his cruelty?