and at the tops and at the bottoms, making the sign of the Cross
in holy water over every seal as he completed it.
Then he ordered the others inside the pentacle, examined the
switches by the door to assure himself that every light in the
room was on, made up the fire with a great pile of logs so that
it would last well through the night and there be no question of
their having to leave the circle to replenish it and, joining
them where they had squatted down on the thick mat of blankets,
produced five little silver cups, which he proceeded to fill two-
thirds full with Holy water. These he placed, one in each valley
of the pentacle.
Then, taking five long white tapering candles, such as are
offered by devotees to the Saints in Catholic Churches, he lit
them from an old-fashioned tinder-box and set them upright, one
at each apex of the five-pointed star. In their rear he placed
the five brand new horseshoes which Richard had secured from the
village with their horns pointing outward, and beyond each vase
of holy water he set a dried mandrake, four females and one
male, the male being in the valley to the north.
These complicated formulas for the erection of outward
barriers being at last finished, the Duke turned his attention
to the individual protection of his friends and himself. Four
long wreaths of garlic flowers were strung together and each of
the party placed one about his neck. Rosaries, with little
golden crucifixes attached, were distributed, medals of Saint
Benedict holding the Cross in his right hand and the Holy Rule
in his left, and phials of salt and mercury; lengths of the
asafcetida grass were again tied round Simon's wrists and
ankles, and he was placed in their midst facing towards the
north. The Duke then performed the final rites of sealing the
nine openings of each of their bodies.
All this performance had entirely failed to impress Richard.
In fact, it tended to revive his earlier scepticism. It was his
private belief that a blackmailing gang were playing tricks upon
Simon and the Duke so, before coming downstairs, he had tucked a
loaded automatic comfortably away beneath his pyjama jacket. In
deference to De Richleau's obvious concern that nothing soiled
should be brought within the circle he had first, half-
ashamedly, cleansed the weapon in a bath of spirit but, if Mr.
Mocata was so ill-advised as to break into his house that night
with the intention of staging any funny business, he meant to
use it. After a little pause he looked cheerfully round at the
others. 'Well-here we are! What happens now?'
'We have ample room here,' replied De Richleau. 'So there is
no reason why we should not lie down with our feet towards the
rim of the circle and try to get some sleep, but there are
certain instructions I would like to give you before we settle
down.'
'I never felt less like sleep in my life,' remarked Simon.
'Nor I,' agreed Richard. 'It's early yet and if only Marie Lou
weren't here I'd tell you some bawdy stories to keep you gay.'
'Don't mind me, darling,' cooed Marie Lou. 'I'm human- even if
you are right about my having an angelic face.'
'No!' He shook his head quickly. 'Somehow they fail to amuse
me when you're about. That's why I never tell you any. It needs
men on their own sitting round a bottle of something to get the
best out of a bawdy jest. My God! I wish we'd got a bottle of
brandy with us now!'
'Mean pig,' she murmured amiably, snuggling up against him.
'If Greyeyes and Simon didn't know you so well they would think
you nothing but an awful little drunk from the way you talk,
whereas you're a nice person really.'
'Am I? Well, anyway it's fine that you should think so.' He
fondled her short curly hair with his long fingers. 'My present
lust-for liquor is only because I've been done out of my fair
ration today. But what shall we talk about? Greyeyes-this
Talisman that all the bother centres on-tell us about it before
you give us your final orders for the night.'
'You know the legend of Isis and Osiris?' the Duke asked.
'Yes-vaguely,' Richard replied. 'They were the King and Queen
of Heaven who came to earth in human form and taught the
Egyptians all they knew weren't they? The old business of a
fairhaired god arriving among a dusky people and importing all
sorts of new ideas about agriculture and architecture and
justice-in fact-what we call civilisation.'
De Richleau nodded. 'That is so. But I mean the story of how
Osiris came to die?'
'He was murdered wasn't he?' volunteered Simon. 'But I've
forgotten how.'
'Well, this is the account which has been handed down to us
through many thousands of years. Osiris was, apparently, as
Richard says, a fair-haired, light-skinned man, alien to the
Egyptian race, who became their King and, ruling them with great
intelligence, brought them many blessings. But he had a brother
named Set-and here again you get the two principals of Good and
Evil, Light and Darkness-for Set was a dark man. The legend is,
of course, apocryphal up to a point but, eliminating the overlay
of myth with which the priests later embroidered it, the whole
story had such a genuine ring of human tragedy that it is very
difficult to doubt that these two men and the woman Isis
actually lived, as the progenitors of a Royal dynasty, in the
Nile valley long before the Pyramids were built.
'It always amazes me, whenever I re-read the story in the
Greek Classics, how Set, particularly, stands out as a definite
and living figure after all these countless generations. The
characters in our seventeenth century plays even are quite un
real to' us now-with a very few exceptions; but Set remains,
timeless and unchanging, the charming but unscrupulous rogue who
might have entertained you with lavish hospitality and brilliant
conversation yesterday-yet would do you down without the least
compunction if he met you in the street tomorrow.
"He was tall and slim and dark and handsome; a fine athlete
and a great hunter, but a cultured, amusing person too, and a
boon companion who knew how to carry his wine at table. The type
whose lapses men are always ready to condone on account of their
delightful personality, and whose wickedness women persuade
themselves is only waywardness-while they succumb almost at a
glance to that dark, male virility.
'Set was younger than Osiris and jealous of his authority.
Then he fell in love with Isis, his brother's wife. The old
story of the human triangle you see, or rather the original, for
all others in the whole literature of the world which deal with
the same subject are plagiarisms. Set conspired, therefore, to
slay the King and seize his wife and power for himself.
'To assassinate Osiris openly would have been a difficult
matter because he was always surrounded by the older nobles, who
loved him and knew that he kept the peace while the land
flourished and grew prosperous. Set knew that they would defend
the King's person with their lives, and he was faced with
another problem too. Osiris was a god, and even if he could lure
him to a place where the deed could be done in secret, he dared
not spill one drop of the divine blood.
'He planned then a superlatively clever murder. You all know
that the Egyptians considered this present life to be only an
interlude and that almost from the age at which they could think
at all their thoughts were largely focused on the life to come.
Many of them spent their entire fortune upon preparing some
magnificent place of burial for themselves, and at every
banquet, when the slaves served the dessert, thehead wine butler
carried round a miniature coffin with a skeleton inside to re
mind the guests that death was waiting round the corner for them
all.
'With diabolical cunning, Set utilised the national preoccupa
tion with death and ceremonial burial to ensnare his brother.
First, by a clever piece of trickery he secured Osiris' exact
measurements. Then he had made the most beautiful sarcophagus
that had ever been seen. It was a great heavy chest of fine
cedar wood with the figures of the forty-two assessors of the
dead, who form the jury of the gods, painted in lapis blue, and
the minutest hieroglyphics in black and red; line upon line of
them reciting the most effective protections against black
magic, and every requisite line of ritual from the great Book of
the Dead.
'As soon as this wonderful coffin was completed, Set prepared
a great banquet to which he invited Osiris and seventy-two of
the younger nobles, all of whom he had corrupted and drawn one
by one into his conspiracy.
'Then on the night of the feast he had the beautiful sarcopha
gus placed in a small anteroom through which every guest had to
pass on his arrival.
'You can imagine how envious they were when they saw it, and
how each commented on the workmanship and the artistry of the
designs-Osiris no less than the others.
'They dined, drank heavily of wine, watched the Egyptian
dancing girls, saw Ethiopian contortionists, and listened to the
best stringed music of the day. Then as a final hospitality to
his guests, the Prince Set rose from his couch and proclaimed:
' "You have all seen the sarcophagus which stands in the
little anteroom, and it is my wish that one of you should
receive it as a gift. He whom it fits may take it with my bless
ing."
'Picture to yourselves the nobles as they scrambled up from
their couches, thrusting the dancing girls aside, and elbowing
their way out into the anteroom, each hoping that the princely
gift might fall to him.
'One after another they got inside and lay down, but not one
of them fitted it exactly. Then Set led Osiris into the anteroom
and, waving his hand towards the handsome chest said with a
little laugh: "Why don't you try it brother. It is worthy of a
King. Even of the Lord of the Two Lands, the Upper and the Lower
Nile."
'With a smile Osiris lowered himself into the masterpiece. And
behold, it fitted his tall, broad-shouldered body to a hair's
breadth. No sooner was he inside than the principal conspira
tors, who were in the secret, rushed forward with the weighty
lid. In frantic haste they nailed it down and poured molten lead
upon it, so that Osiris may have survived an hour in agony but
died at last of suffocation.
'Set thus succeeded in his treacherous design of killing his
brother without spilling one drop of his blood. He and his
turbulent followers then hastened to their chariots, rode forth,
and seized the Kingdom. But Isis was warned in time and managed
to escape.
'The coffer had been left with Osiris in it and, the Egyptian
religion being so strongly bound up with the worship of the
dead, it was vital to Set's newly established authority that the
body should be disposed of at the earliest possible moment.
Otherwise, if the priests got hold of it, they would bury it in
state and erect a mighty shrine to the dead King's memory which
would form a rallying point for all the best elements in the
Kingdom where they would league themselves against the murderer.
'Next morning, therefore, immediately he got home, Set had the
chest cast into the Nile. But Isis recovered it, and after
certain magical ceremonies, succeeded in impregnating herself by
means of her husband's dead body. Then she fled to the papyrus
marshes of the Delta, taking Osiris' body with her in the chest
since there was no time to give it proper burial.
'When Set learned what had happened, he swore that he would
hunt Isis down and kill her, and that he would find Osiris' body
and destroy it for ever.
'Again now, in the story, we get one of those strange glimpses
of happenings many thousands of years ago which we can see more
clearly than the things of yesterday.
'In a few phrases it is recounted how Set searched for months
in vain, and then one night, the pregnant ex-Queen Isis, now a
destitute refugee alone and unattended, is seated beneath a
cluster of palm trees in the desert. Her husband's body, roughly
embalmed, is in the wooden chest beside her and she is conscious
of the movements of the child she bears. Suddenly her sorrowful
meditations are disturbed by a distant rumble breaking the
stillness of the night. The noise increases to a drumming
thunder as a party of horsemen come galloping across the sand.
Isis runs for cover to a nearby papyrus swamp and crouches waist
high in the water watching from amidst the reeds. The dusky
riders come thundering past. She sees that it is Set and his
dissolute nobles hunting by the brilliant light of the Egyptian
moon. One of them recognises the chest. With cries of triumph
they fling themselves from their saddles, break it to pieces and
drag out the body of Osiris. Hidden there, fearful and
trembling, Isis watches Set's dark, proud profile as he orders
the body to be torn into fourteen pieces and the parts
distributed throughout the length and breadth of the Kingdom so
that they might never be brought together again.
'Years later, Horus, the son of Isis, the Great God, the Hawk
of Light, who restored its blessings to mankind and lifted again
the veil of darkness that Set's treachery had brought to dim the
world, became master of the Kingdom. Then Isis roamed the
country seeking for the dismembered portions of her husband. She
did not attempt to assemble them again, but wherever she found
one she erected a great temple to his memory. In all, she
succeeded in finding thirteen pieces of the body, but the
fourteenth she never found. That Set had carefully embalmed and
kept himself. It was for this reason that, although Horus
defeated Set three times in battle he was never able to slay
him. The portion that Set retained was the most potent of all
charms-the phallus of the dead god, his brother.
'In the secret histories of esoterism it is stated that it has
since been heard of many times. For long periods through the
ages it has been completely lost. But whenever it is fouad it
brings calamity upon the world, and that is the thing which we
have to prevent Mocata securing at all costs today-the Talisman
of Set.'
When De Richleau had ceased speaking, they sat silent for a
while until Marie Lou said softly: 'I am feeling rather tired
now, Greyeyes, dear, and I think I'd like to rest, even if it is
impossible to sleep with all these lights.'
'All right. Then I'll say what I have to Princess. But please,
all of you'-the Duke paused to look at each of them in turn
-'listen carefully, because this is vitally serious.
'What may happen I have no idea. Perhaps nothing at all and
the worst we'll have to face is an uncomfortable night. But
Mocata threatened to get Simon away from us by hook or by crook,
and I feel certain that he meant it. I cannot tell you what form
his attack is likely to take, but I am sure he will literally do
his damnedest to break us up and get Simon out of our care
tonight.
'He may send the most terrible powers against us, but there is
one thing above all others that I want you to remember. As long
as we stay inside this pentacle we shall be safe, but if any of
us sets one foot outside it we risk eternal damnation.
'We may be called upon to witness the sort of horrors which it
is difficult for you to conceive. I mean visions such as you
have read of in Gustave Flaubert's Temptation of Saint Anthony,
or seen in pictures by the old Flemish masters such as Brueghel.
But they cannot do us the least harm as long as we remain where
we are.
'Again, we may see nothing, but the attack may develop in a
far more subtle form. That is to say, inside ourselves. Any, or
all of us, may find our reason being undermined by insidious
argument so that we may start telling each other that there is
nothing in the world to be frightened of and that we are utter
fools to spend a miserable night sitting here when we might all
be comfortably in bed upstairs. If that happens, it is a lie.
Even if I appear to change my mind and tell you that I have
thought of new arrangements which would be safer, you must not
believe me because it will not be my true self speaking. It may
be that an awful thirst will come upon us. That is why I have
had this big jug of'water brought in. We may be assailed by
hunger, but to meet that we have the fruit. It is possible that
we may be afflicted with earache or some other bodily pain
which, ordinarily, would make us want to go upstairs to seek
relief. If that happens we've just got to stick it till the
morning.
'Poor old Simon is likely to be afflicted worst because the
campaign will centre on an attempt to make him break out of the
circle. But we've got to stop him-by force, if need be. There
are two main defences which we can bring into play if any
manifestations do take place, as I fear they may.
'One is the Blue vibration. Shut your eyes and try to think of
yourselves as standing in an oval of blue light. The oval is
your aura, and the colour blue exceedingly potent in all things
pertaining to the spirit; the other is prayer. Do not endeavour
to make up complicated prayers or your words may become muddled
and you will find yourself saying something that you do not
mean. Confine yourselves to saying over and over again: "Oh,
Lord, protect me! Oh, Lord, protect me!" and not only say it but
think it with all the power of your will, visualising, if you
can, Our Lord upon the Cross with blue light streaming from His
body towards yourselves; but if you think you see Him outside
this pentacle beckoning you to safety while some terrible thing
threatens you from the other side, still you must remain
within.'
As De Richleau finished there was a murmur of assent. Then
Richard, with an arm about Marie Lou's shoulders said quietly:
'I understand, and we'll do everything you say.'
'Thank you. Now, Sirnon,' the Duke went on. 'I want you to say
clearly and distinctly seven times, "Om meni gadme aum." That is
the invocation to manathaer-your higher self.'
Simon did as he was bid, then they knelt together and each
offered a silent prayer that the Power of Light might guard and
protect them from all uncleanness, and that each might be
granted strength to aid the others should they be faced with any
peril.
They lay down then and tried to rest despite the burning
candles and the soft glow of the electric Light. Sleep was
utterly impossible to them in such circumstances. Yet no one
there had more to say upon any point that mattered and, after a
little time, no one felt that they could break the stillness by
endeavouring to make ordinary conversation.
The steady ticking of a clock came faintly from somewhere in
the depths of the house. Occasionally a log fell with a loud
plop and hissed for a moment in the fire grate. Then the little
noises of the night were hushed, and an immense silence, brood
ing and mysterious, seemed to have fallen upon them. In some
strange way it did not seem as though the quite octagonal room
was any longer a portion of the house or that outside the window
lay the friendly, well-cared-for garden that they knew so well.
Watchful, listening, intent, they lay silent, waiting to see
what the night would bring,


26

Rex Learns of the Undead

Tanith slept peacefully, curled up in Rex's arms, her golden
head pillowed upon his chest. For a little time anxious thoughts
occupied his mind. He reproached himself for having left Sirnon,
and the gnawing worm of doubt raised its head again to whisper
that Tanith had planned to lure him away from protecting his
friend, but he dismissed such thoughts almost immediately. Simon
would be safe enough in the care of Richard and Marie Lou.
Tanith was alone and needed him, and he soon convinced himself
that in remaining there he was breaking a lance against the
enemy as well, by preventing Mocata securing her again to assist
him, all unwillingly, in his hostilities.
The shadows lengthened and the patches of sunligbt dimmed, yet
still Tanith slept on-the sleep of utter exhaustion- brought
about by the terrible nervous crisis through which she had
passed from hour to hour during the previous day, the past
night, and that morning, in her attempt to seek safety with him.
With infinite precaution not to disturb her he looked at his
watch and found that the time was nearly eight o'clock. De
Richleau should be back by now and after all it was unlikely
that Mocata could prevent his return before sundown. De Richleau
might have lost his nerve for a few moments the night before,
but he had retrieved it brilliantly in that headlong dash at the
wheel of the Hispano down into the hellish valley where the
Satanists practised their grim rites. Now that they had secured
Simon safe and sound once more, Rex had an utter faith that De
Richleau would fight to the last ditch, with all the skill and
cunning of his subtle brain, and that stubborn, tenacious
courage that Rex knew so well, before he would surrender their
friend to the evi! powers again,
It was dark now; even the afterglow had faded, leaving the
trees as vague, dark sentinels in that silent wood. The under
growth was massed in bulky shadows and the colour had faded from
the grasses and wild-flowers on the green, mossy bank where he
lay with Tanith breathing so evenly in his embrace.
His back and arms were aching from his strained position but
he sat on while the moments fled, sleepy himself now, yet
determined not to give way to the temptation, even to doze, lest
silent evil should steal upon them where they lay.
Another hour crept by and then Tanith stirred slightly.
Another moment, and she had raised her head, shaking the tumbled
golden hair back from her face and blinking up at him a little
out of sleepy eyes.
'Rex, where are we?' she murmured indistinctly. 'What has
happened? I've had an awful dream.'
He smiled down at her and kissed her full on the lips.
'Together,' he said. 'That's all that matters, isn't it? But
if you must know, we're in the wood behind the road-house.'
'Of course,' she gave a little gasp, and hurriedly began to
tidy herself. 'But we can't stay here all night.'
The thought of taking her back to Cardinals Folly occurred to
him again, but in these timeless hours he had witnessed so many
things he would have thought impossible a few days before that
he dismissed the idea at once. Tanith, he felt convinced, was
not lying to him. She was genuinely repentant and terrified of
Mocata. But who could say what strange powers that sinister man
might not be able to exercise over her at a distance. He dared
not risk it. However, she was certainly right in saying that
they could not stay where they were all night,
We'd best go back to the road-house,' he suggested. They will
be able to knock us up a meal, and after, it'll be time enough
to figure out what we mean to do.'
'Yes,' she sighed a little. 'I am hungry now-terribly hungry.
Do let us go back and see if they can find us something to eat.'
Her arm through his, their fingers laced together, they walked
back the quarter of a mile to the little stream which separated
the wood from the inn garden. He lifted her over it again and
when they reached'the lounge of the 'Pride of Peacocks' they
found that it was already half-past nine.
Knowing that his friends would be anxious about him, Rex tried
to telephone immediately he got in, but the village exchange
told him that the line to Cardinals Folly was out of order, Then
he sent the trim maid for Mr. Wilkes, and when that worthy
arrived on the scene, inquired if it was too late for them to
have a hot meal.
'Not at all, sir,' Mr. Wilkes bent, quiet-voiced, deferential,
priestlike, benign. 'My wife will be very happy to cook you a
little dinner. What would you care for now? Fish is a little
difficult in these parts, except when I know that I have guests
staying and can order in advance, and game, of course, is un
fortunately out of season. But a nice young duckling perhaps, or
a chicken? My wife, if I may say so, does a very good Chicken
Maryland, sir, of which our American visitors have been kind
enough to express their approval from time to time.'
'Chicken Maryland,' exclaimed Rex. 'That sounds grand to me.
How about you, honey?'
Tanith nodded. 'Lovely, if only it is not going to take too
long.'
'Some twenty minutes, madam. Not more. Mrs. Wilkes will see to
it right away, and in the meantime, I've just had in a very nice
piece of smoked salmon, which comes to me from a London house. I
could recommend that if you would like to start your dinner
fairly soon.'
Rex nodded, and the aged Wilkes went on amiably: 'And now
sir-to drink? Red wine, if I might make so bold would be best
with the grill, perhaps. I have a little of the Clos de Vougoet
1920 left, which Mr. Richard Eaton was good enough to compliment
me on when he dined here last, and his Lordship, my late master,
always used to say that he found a glass of Justerini's
Amontillado before a meal lent an edge to the appetite.'
For a second Rex wavered. He recalled De Richleau's pro
hibition against alcohol, but he had been far from satisfied by
the brief rest which he had snatched that morning and was
feeling all the strain now of the events which had taken place
in the last forty-eight hours. Tanith, too, was looking pate and
drawn, despite her sleep. A bottle of good burgundy was the very
thing they needed to give them fresh strength and courage. He
could have sunk half a dozen cocktails with the greatest ease
and pleasure, but by denying himself spirits, he felt that he
was at least carrying out the kernel of the Duke's instructions.
Good wine could surely harm no one-so he acquiesced.
A quarter of an hour later, he was seated opposite to Tanith
at a little corner table in the dining-room, munching fresh,
warm toast and the smoked salmon with hungry relish, while the
neat little maid ministered to their wants, and the pontifical
Mr. Wilkes hovered eagle-eyed in the background. The chicken was
admirably cooked, and the wine lent an additional flavour by the
fact that his palate was unusually clean and fresh from having
denied himself those cocktails before the meal.
When the chicken was served, Mr. Wilkes murmured something
about a sweet and Rex, gazing entranced into Tanith's big eyes,
nodded vaguely. Which sign of assent resulted, a little later,
in the production of a flaming omelette au kirsch. Then Wilkes
came forward once more, with a suggestion that the dinner should
be rounded off by allowing him to decant a bottle of his
Cockburn's '08. But here, Rex was firm. The burgundy had served
its purpose, stimulated his brain and put fresh life into his
body. To drink a vintage port after it would have been pleasant
he knew, but certain to destroy the good effect and cause him to
feel sleepy. So he resisted Mr. Wilkes' blandishments.
After the meal Rex tried to get on to Cardinals Folly again
but the line was still reported out of order, so he scribbled a
note to Richard, saying that he was safe and well and would ring
them in the morning, then asked Wilkes to have it sent up to the
house by hand.
When the landlord had left them, they moved back into the
lounge and discussed how they should pass the night. Tanith was
as insistent as ever that under no circumstances should Rex
leave her to herself, even if she asked him later on to do so.
She felt that her only hope of safety lay in remaining with him
beside her until the morning, so it was decided that they spend
the night together in the empty lounge.
Tanith had already booked a room and so, to make all things
orderly in the mind of the good Mr. Wilkes, Rex booked another,
but told the landlord that, as Tanith suffered from insomnia,
they would probably remain in the lounge until very late, and so
he was not to bother about them when he locked up. As a gesture
he also borrowed from Wilkes a pack of cards, saying that they
meant to pass an hour or two playing nap.
The fire was made up and they settled down comfortably under
the shelter of the big mantel in the inglenook with a little
table before them upon which they spread out the cards for
appearance sake. But no sooner had the maid withdrawn than they
had their arms about each other once more and blissfully
oblivious of their surroundings, began that delightful first
exchange of confidences about their previous lives, which is
such a blissful hour for all lovers.
Rex would have been in the seventh heaven but for the thought
of this terrible business in which Tanith had got herself
involved and the threat of Mocata's power hanging like a sword
of Damocles above her head.
Again and again, from a variety of subjects and experiences
ranging the world over, and from their childhood to the present
day, they found themselves continually and inexplicably caught
back to that macabre subject which both were seeking to avoid.
In the end, both surrendered to it and allowed the thoughts
which were uppermost in their minds to enter their conversation
freely.
'I'm still hopelessly at sea about this business,' Rex
confessed. 'It's all so alien, so bizarre, so utterly fantastic.
I know I wasn't dreaming last night or the night before. I know
that if Simon hadn't got himself into trouble I wouldn't be
holding your loveliness in my arms right now. Yet, every time I
think of it, I feel that I must have been imagining things, and
that it just simply can't be true.'
'It is, my dear,' she pressed his hand gently; That is just
the horror of it. If it were any ordinary tangible peril, it
wouldn't be quite so terrifying. It wouldn't be quite so bad
even if we were living in the middle ages. Then at least, I
could seek sanctuary in some convent where the nuns would
understand
and the priests who were learned in such matters, exert them
selves to protect me. But in these days of modern scepticism
there is no one I can turn to; police and clergymen and doctors
would all think me insane. I only have you and after last night
I'm frightened, Rex, frightened.' A sudden flush mounted to her
cheeks again.
'I know, I know,' Rex soothed her gently. 'But you must try
all you know not to be. I've a feeling that you're scaring your
self more than is really necessary. I'll agree that Mocata might
hypnotise you if he got you on your own again, and maybe use you
in some way to get poor Simon back into his net, but what could
he actually do to you beyond that? He's not going to take a
chance on murdering anybody, so that the police could take a
hand, even if he had sufficient motive to want to try."
'I am afraid you don't understand, dearest,' she murmured
gently. 'A Satanist who is as far along the Path as Mocata does
not need a motive to do murder, unless you can call malicious
pleasure in the deed a motive in itself, and my having left him
in the lurch at such a critical time is quite sufficient to
anger him into bringing about my death.'
'I tell you, sweet, he'll never risk doing murder. In this
country it is far too dangerous a game.'
'But his murders are not like ordinary murders. He can kill
from a distance if he likes.'
'What-by sticking pins in a little wax figure with your name
scratched on it, or letting it melt away before the fire until
you pine and die?'
That is one way, but he is more likely to use the blood of
white mice.'
'How in the world do you mean?'
'I don't know very much about it except what I have picked up
from Madame D Urfe and a few other people. They say that when a
very advanced adept wishes to kill someone, he feeds a white
mouse on some of the holy wafers that they compel people to
steal from churches for them. The sacrilegious aspect of the
thing is very important, you see. Then they perform the Catholic
ceremony of baptism over the mouse, christening it with the same
name as that of their intended victim. That creates an affinity
between the mouse and the person far stronger than carving their
name on any image.'
Then they kill the mouse, eh?'
'No, I don't think so. They draw off some of its blood,
impregnate that with their malefic will, vaporise it, and call
up an elemental to feed upon its essence. Then they perform a
mystic transfusion in their victim's veins causing the elemental
to poison them. But, Rex--'
'Yes, my sweet.'
'It is not that I am afraid to die. In any case, as I have
told you, there is no hope of my living out the year, but that
has not troubled me for a long time now. It is what may come
after that terrifies me so.'
'Surely he can't harm anybody once they're dead,' Rex pro
tested.
'But he can,' Tanith burst out with a little cry of distress
and fear,; 'If he kills me that way, he can make me dead to the
world, but I shall live on as an undead, and that would be
horrible.'
Rex passed his hand wearily across his eyes. 'Don't speak in
riddles, treasure. What is this thing you're frightened of? Just
tell me now in ordinary, plain English.'
'All right. I suppose you have heard of a vampire.'
'Why, yes. I've read of them in fiction. They're supposed to
come out of their graves every night and drink the blood of
human beings, aren't they? Until they're found out, then their
graves are opened up for a priest to cut off their head and
drive stakes through their hearts. Is that what you call an
undead?'
Tanith nodded slowly. 'Yes, that is an undead-a foul, re
volting thing, a living corpse that creeps through the night
like a great white slug, and a body bloated from drinking
people's blood. But have you never read of them in other books
beside nightmare fiction?'
'No, I wouldn't exactly say I have as far as I can remember.
The Duke would know all about them for a certainty -and Richard
Eaton too, I expect-because they're both great readers. But I'm
just an ordinary chap who's content to take his reading from the
popular novelists who can turn out a good, interesting story. Do
you mean to tell me seriously that such creatures have ever
existed outside the thriller writer's imagination?'
'I do. In the Carpathians, where I come from, the whole
countryside is riddled with vampire stories from real life. You
hear of them in Poland and Hungary and Roumania, too. All
through Middle Europe and right down into the Balkan countries
there have been endless cases of such revolting Satanic
manifestations. Anyone there will tell you that time and again,
when graves have been opened on suspicion, the corpses of
vampires have been found, months after burial, without the
slightest sign of decay, their flesh pink and flushed, their
eyes wide-open, bright and staring. The only difference to their
previous appearance is the way in which their canine teeth have
grown long and pointed. Often, even, they have been found with
fresh blood trickling out of the sides of then-mouths.'
'Say, that sounds pretty grim,' Rex exclaimed with a little
shudder.' I reckon De Richleau would explain that by saying that
the person was possessed before he died and that after, although
the actual soul passed on, the evil spirit continued to make a
doss-house of its borrowed body. But I can't think that anything
so awful would ever happen to you,'
'It might, my dear. That is what scares me so. And if Mocata
did get hold of me again he would not need to perform those
ghastly rites with impregnated blood. He could just throw me
into the hypnotic state and, after he had made me do all he
wished, allow some terrible thing to take possession of me at
once. The elemental would still remain in my body when he killed
me, and I should become one of those loathsome creatures-the
undead, if that happened, this very night.'
'Stop! I can't bear to think of it,' Rex drew her quickly-to
him again. 'But he shan't get hold of you. We'll fight him till
all's blue, and I'm going to marry you to-morrow so that I can
be with you constantly. We'll apply for a special licence first
thing in the morning.
She nodded, and a new light of hope came into her eyes. 'If
you wish it, Rex,' she whispered, 'and I do believe that by your
love and strength, you can save me. But you mustn't leave me for
a single second tonight, and we mustn't sleep a wink. Listen!'
She paused a moment as the bell in the village steeple chimed
the twelve strokes of midnight, which came to them clearly in
the stillness of the quiet room. 'It is the second of May now
-my fatal day.'
He smiled indulgently. 'Sure, I won't leave you, and we won't
sleep either. One of us might drop off if we were all alone, but
together we'll prod each other into keeping awake. Though I just
can't think that'll be necessary, with all the million things
I've got to tell you about your sweet self.'
She stood up then, raising her arms to smooth back her hair,
and making a graceful, slender silhouette against the flickering
flames of the heaped-up fire.
'No. The night will slip away before we know it,' she agreed
more cheerfully. 'Because I've got a thousand things to tell you
too. I must just slip upstairs to powder my nose now, and when I
come back, we'll settle down in earnest to make a night of it
together.'
A quick frown crossed his face. 'I thought you said I wasn't
to let you leave me even for a second. I don't like your going
upstairs alone at all.'
'But, my dear!' Tanith gave a little laugh. 'I can hardly take
you with me, and I shan't be more than a few moments.'
Rex nodded, reassured as he saw her standing there, smiling
down at him in the firelight so happy and normal in every way.
He felt certain that he would know at once if Mocata was trying
to exert his power on her from a distance, by that strange far-
away look which had come into her eyes and the fanatical note
that had raised the pitch of her voice each time she had spoken
of the imperative necessity of her reaching the meeting-place
for the Sabbat on the previous day. There was not the faintest
suggestion of that other will, imposed upon her own, in her face
or voice now, and obviously it would have been childish to
attempt to prevent her carrying out so sensible a suggestion
before settling down. The best part of six hours must elapse
before daylight began to filter greyly through the old-fashioned
bow window at the far end of the room.
'All right,' he laughed. Til give you five minutes by that
clock-but no more, remember, and if you're not down then, I'll
come up and get you.'
'Dear lover!' she stooped suddenly and kissed him, then
slipped out of the room closing the door softly behind her.
Rex lay back, spreading his great limbs now in the comfortable
corner of the inglenook, and stretching out his long legs to the
glow of the log fire. He wasn't sleepy, which amazed him when he
thought how little sleep he had had since he woke in his state-
room on the giant Cunarder the morning of the day that he dined
with De Richleau. That seemed ages ago now, weeks, months,
years. So many things had happened, so many new and staggering
thoughts come to seethe and ferment in his brain, yet Simon's
party had been held only a bare two nights before.
His hand moved lazily to his hip pocket to get a cigarette,
but half way to it he abandoned the attempt as too much trouble,
wriggling down instead more comfortably about the cushions.
He wasn't sleepy-not a bit. His brain had never been more
active and his thoughts turned for a moment to his friends at
Cardinals Folly. They, too, would be wide awake, braced, no
doubt, under De Richleau's determined leadership, to face an
attack from the powers of evil. De Richleau must be feeling
pretty sleepy he thought. Neither of them had had more than
three hours that morning after their exhausting night. They
hadn't got to bed much before dawn the night before either, and
the Duke had been up, according to Max, at seven in order to be
at the British Museum directly it opened. Say six hours in
sixty. That wasn't much, but De Richleau was an old campaigner
and he would stick it all right, Rex had no doubt.
He glanced at the clock, thinking it almost time that Tanith
should rejoin him, but saw that the slow-moving hand had only
advanced two minutes. 'Amazing how time drags when one is
watching it,' he thought, and his mind wandered on to the
reflection that he had been mighty wise not to drink anything
but that one glass of sherry and the burgundy for dinner. He
would probably have been horribly drowsy by now if he had been
fool enough to fall for the cocktails or the port. But he wasn't
sleepy-not a bit.
His mind began to form little mental pictures of some of those
strange episodes which he had lived through in the last two
days-old Madame D Urfe smoking her cigar and then Tanith; Max
arranging the cushions in De Richleau's electric canoe at
Pangbourne, and then Tanith again. That plausible old humbug
Wilkes serving the Clos de Vougoet with meticulous care-a mighty
fine thing he made out of this pub no doubt -and then Tanith
once more, sitting opposite him at table, with the soft glow of
the shaded electric lamp lighting her oval face and throwing
strange shadows in the silken web of her golden hair.
He glanced at the clock again-another minute had crawled by,
and then he pictured Tanith as he had seen her only a few
moments before, bending to kiss him, her face warm and flushed
by the firelight, and those strange, deep, age-old eyes of hers
smiling tenderly into his beneath their heavy half-lowered lids.
It must be this strange wonderful love for her, he thought,
which kept him so alive and alert, for ordinarily his healthy
body demanded its fair share of sleep and he would have been
nodding his head off by this time. He could still see those
glorious golden eyes of hers smiling into his. The face above
them was indistinct and vague, but they remained clear and
shining in the shadows on the far side of the fireplace. The
eyes were changing now a little-losing their colour and fading
from gold to grey and then to a palish blue. Yet their bright
ness seemed to increase and they grew bigger as he held them
with his mental gaze.
He thought for a second of glancing at the clock again. It
seemed that Tanith had left him ages ago now, but judging by the
time it had taken for that long hand to crawl through three
minutes' space he felt that it could hardly yet have covered the
other two. Besides, he did not want to lose the focus of those
strange, bright eyes which he could see so plainly when he half
closed his own.
Rex wasn't sleepy-not a bit. But time is an illusion, and Rex
never afterwards knew how long he sat awake there in the semi-
darkness. Perhaps during the first portion of his watch some
strange power deluded his vision and the clock had in reality
moved on while he only thought that the minutes dragged so
heavily. In any case, those eyes that watched him from the
shadows were his last conscious thought, and next moment Rex was
sound asleep.


27

Within the Pentacle

While Rex slumbered evenly and peacefully before the dying
fire in the lounge of the 'Pride of Peacocks,' Richard, Marie
Lou, the Duke and Simon waited in the pentacle, on the floor of
the library at Cardinals Folly, for the dreary hours of night to
drag their way to morning.
They lay with their heads towards the centre of the circle and
their feet towards the rim, forming a human cross, but although
they did not speak for a long time after they had settled down,
none of them managed to drop off to sleep.
The layer of clean sheets and blankets beneath them was
pleasant enough to rest on for a while, but the hard, unyielding
floorboards under it soon began to cause them discomfort. The
bright flames of the burning candles and the steady glow of the
electric light showed pink through their closed eyelids, making
repose difficult, and they were all keyed up to varying degrees
of anxious expectancy.
Marie Lou was restless and miserable. Nothing but her fondness
for Simon, and the Duke's plea that the presence of Richard and
herself would help enormously in his protection, would have
induced her to play any part in such proceedings. Her firm
belief in the supernatural filled her with grim forebodings, and
she tried in vain to shut out her fears by sleep. Every little
noise that broke the brooding stillness, the creaking of a beam
as the old house eased itself upon its foundations, or the
whisper of the breeze as it rustled the leaves of the trees hi
the garden, caused her to start-wide awake again, her muscles
taut with alarm and apprehension.