Richard did not attempt to sleep. He lay revolving a number of
problems in his mind. Fleur d'amour's birthday was in a couple
of weeks' tune. The child was easy, but a present for Marie Lou
was a different question. It must be something that she wanted
and yet a surprise. A difficult matter when she already had
everything with which his fine fortune could endow her, and
jewellery was not only banal but absurd. The sale of the lesser
stones among the Shulimoff treasure, which they had brought out
of Russia, had realised enough to provide her with a handsome
independent income and her retention of the finer gems alone
equipped her magnificently in that direction. He toyed with the
idea of buying her a two-year-old. He was not a racing man but
she was fond of horses and it would be fun for her to see her
own run at the lesser meetings.
After a while he turned restlessly on to his tummy, and began
to ponder this wretched muddle into which Simon had got himself.
The more he thought about it the less he could subscribe to the
Duke's obvious beliefs. That so-called Black Magic was still
practised in most of the Continental capitals and many of the
great cities in America, he knew. He had even met a man, a few
years before, who had told him that he had attended a
celebration of the Black Mass at a house in the Earls Court
district of London, yet he could not credit that it had been
anything more than a flimsy excuse for a crowd of intellectual
decadents to get disgustingly drunk and participate in a
wholesale sexual orgy. Simon was not that sort, or a fool
either, so it was certainly queer that he should have got
himself mixed up with such beastliness.
Richard turned over again, yawned, glanced at his friend whom,
he decided, he had never seen look more normal, and wondered if,
out of courtesy to the Duke, he could possibly continue to play
his part in this tedious farce until morning.
The banishing rituals which De Richleau had performed upon
Simon the previous night at Stonehenge had certainly proved
successful, and he had had a good sleep that afternoon. His
brain was now quick and clear as it had been in the old days
and, although Mocata's threats were principally directed against
himself, he was by far the most cheerful of the party. Despite
his recent experiences, his natural humour bubbling up very
nearly caused him to laugh at the thought of them all lying on
that hard floor because he had made an idiot of himself, and
Richard's obvious disgust at the discomforts imposed by the Duke
caused him much amusement. Nevertheless, he recognised that his
desire to laugh was mainly due to nervous tension, and accepted
with full understanding the necessity for these extreme
precautions. To think, for only a second, of how narrow his
escape had been was enough to sober instantly any tendency to
mirth and send a quick shudder through his limbs. He was only
anxious now, having dragged his friends into this horrible
affair, to cause them as little further trouble as possible by
following the Duke's leadership without question. With resolute
determination he kept his thoughts away from any of his dealings
with Mocata and set himself to endure his comfortless couch with
philosophic patience.
To outward appearances De Richleau slept. He lay perfectly
still on his back breathing evenly and almost imperceptibly, but
he had always been able to do with very little sleep. Actually
he was recruiting his forces in a manner that was not possible
to the others. That gentle rhythmic breathing, perfectly but
unconsciously timed from long practice, was the way of the Raja
Yoga which he had learnt when young, and all the time he
visualised himself, the others, the whole room as
blue-blue-blue, the colour vibration which gives love and
sympathy and spiritual attainment. Yet he was conscious of every
tiny movement made by the others; the gentle sighing of the
breeze outside, and the occasional plop of burning logs as they
fell into the embers. For over two hours he barely moved a
muscle but all his senses remained watchful and alert.
The night seemed never-ending. Outside the wind dropped and a
steady rain began to fall, dripping with monotonous regularity
from the eaves on to the terrace. Richard became more and more
sore from the hard floor. He was tired now and bored by this
apparently senseless vigil. He thought that it must be about
half past one, and daylight would not come to release them from
their voluntary prison before half past five or six. That meant
another four hours of this acute and momentarily increasing
discomfort. As he tossed and turned it grew upon him with ever-
increasing force how stupid and futile this whole affair seemed
to be. De Richleau was so obviously the victim of a gang of
clever tricksters, and his wide reading on obscure subjects had
caused his imagination to run away with him. To pander to such
folly any longer simply was not good enough. With these thoughts
now dominating his mind Richard suddenly sat up.
'Look here,' he said. 'I'm sick of this. A joke's a joke, but
we've had no lunch and precious little dinner, and I haven't had
a drink all day. Some of you have got far too lively an
imagination, and we are making utter fools of ourselves. We had
better go upstairs. If you're really frightened of anything
happening to Simon we could easily shift four beds into one room
and all sleep within a hand's reach of each other. Nobody will
be able to get at him then. But frankly, at the moment, I think
we're behaving like a lot of lunatics.'
De Richleau rose with a jerk and gave him a sharp look from
beneath his grey slanting devil's eyebrows. 'Something's
beginning to happen,' he told himself swiftly. 'They're working
upon Richard, because he's the most sceptical amongst us, to try
and make him break up the pentacle.' Aloud he said quietly: 'So
you're still unconvinced that Simon is in real danger, Richard?'
'Yes, I am.' Richard's voice held an angry aggressive note
quite foreign to his normal manner. 'I regard this Black Magic
business as stupid nonsense. If you could cite me a single case
where so-called magicians have actually done their stuff before
sane people it would be different. But they're charlatans- every
one of them. Take Cagliostro-he was supposed to make gold but
nobody ever saw any of it, and when the Inquisition got hold of
him they bunged him in a dungeon in Rome and he died there in
abject misery. His Black Magic couldn't even procure him a hunk
of bread. Look at Catherine de Medici. She was a witch on the
grand scale if ever there was one- built a special tower at
Vincennes for Cosimo Ruggeri, an Italian sorcerer. They used to
slit up babies and practise all sorts of abominations there
together night after night to ensure the death of Henry of
Navarre and the birth of children to her own sons. But it didn't
do her a ha'porth of good. All four died childless so that at
last, despite all her bloody sacrifices, the House of Valois was
extinct, and Henry, the hated Bear-nais, became King of France
after all. Come nearer home if you like. Take that absurd fool
Elipas Levi who was supposed to be the Grand High Whatnot in
Victorian times. Did you ever read his book, The Doctrine and
Ritual of Magic! In his introduction he professes that he is
going to tell you all about the game and that he's written a
really practical book, by the aid of which anybody who likes can
raise the devil, and perform all sorts of monkey tricks. He
drools on for hundreds of pages about fiery swords and
tetragrams and the terrible aqua poffana, but does he tell you
anything? Not a blessed thing. Once it comes to a showdown he
hedges like the crook he was and tells you that such mysteries
are far too terrible and dangerous to be entrusted to the
profane. Mysterious balderdash my friend. I'm going to have a
good strong nightcap and go to bed.'
Marie Lou looked at him in amazement. Never before had she
heard Richard denounce any subject with such passion and venom.
Ordinarily, he possessed an extremely open mind and, if he
doubted any statement, confined himself to a kindly but slightly
cynical expression of disbelief. It was extraordinary that he
should suddenly forget even his admirable manners and be
downright rude to one of his greatest friends.
De Richleau studied his face with quiet understanding and as
Richard stood up he stood up too, laying his hand upon the
younger man's shoulder. 'Richard,' he said. 'You think I'm a
superstitious fool, don't you?'
'No.' Richard shrugged uncomfortably. 'OnIy that you've been
through a pretty difficult time and, quite frankly, that your
imagination is a bit overstrained at the moment.'
The Duke smiled. 'All right, perhaps you are correct, but we
have been friends for a long time now and this business tonight
has not interfered with our friendship in any way, has it?'
'Why, of course not. You know that.'
'Then, if I begged of you to do something for my sake, just
because of that friendship, you would do it, wouldn't you?'
'Certainly I would,' Richard's hesitation was hardly percep
tible and the Duke cut in quickly, taking him at his word.
'Good! Then we will agree that Black Magic may be nothing but
a childish superstition. Yet I happen to be frightened of it, so
I ask you, my friend, who is not bothered with such stupid
fears, to stay with me tonight-and not move outside this
pentacle.'
Richard shrugged again, and then smiled ruefully. . . .
'You've caught me properly now so I must make the best of it;
quite obviously if you say that, it is impossible for me to
refuse.'
Thank you,' De Richleau murmured as they both sat down again,
and to himself he thought: 'That's the first move in the game to
me.' Then as a fresh silence fell upon the party, he began to
ruminate upon the strangeness of the fact that elemen-tals and
malicious spirits may be very powerful, but their nature is so
low and their intelligence so limited that they can nearly
always be trapped by the divine spark of reason which is the
salvation of mankind. The snare was such an obvious one and yet
Richard's true nature had reasserted itself so rapidly that the
force, which had moved him to try and break up their circle for
its benefit, had been scotched almost before it had had a chance
to operate.
They settled down again but in some subtle way the atmosphere
had changed. The fire glowed red on its great pile of ashes, the
candles burned unflickeringly in the five points of the star,
and the electric globes above the cornices still lit every comer
of the room with a soft diffused radiance, yet the four friends
made no further pretence of trying to sleep. Instead they sat
back to back, while the moments passed, creeping with leaden
feet towards the dawn.
Marie Lou was perplexed and worried by Richard's outburst, De
Richleau tense with a new expectancy, now he felt that psychic
forces were actually moving within the room. Stealthy
-invisible-but powerful; he knew them to be feeling their way
from bay to bay of the pentacle, seeking for any imperfection in
the barrier he had erected, just as a strong current swirls and
eddies about the jagged fissures of a reef searching for an
entrance into a lagoon.
Simon sat crouched, his hands clasped round has knees,
staring, apparently with unseeing eyes, at the long lines of
books. It seemed that he was listening intently and the Duke
watched him with special care, knowing that he was the weak spot
of their defence. Presently, his voice a little hoarse, Simon
spoke:
'I'm awfully thirsty. I wish we'd got a drink.'
De Richleau smiled, a little grimly. Another of the minor
manifestations-the evil was working upon Simon now but only to
give another instance of its brutish stupidity. It overlooked
the fact that he had provided for such an emergency with that
big carafe of water in the centre of the pentacle. The fact that
it had caused Simon to forget its presence was of little moment.
'Here you are, my friend,' he said, pouring out a glass. This
will quench your thirst.'
Simon sipped it and put it aside with a shake of his narrow
head. 'Do you use well-water, Richard?' he asked jerkily. This
stuff tastes beastly to me-brackish and stale.'
'Ah!' thought De Richleau. 'That's the line they are trying,
is it? Well, I can defeat them there,' and taking Simon's glass
he poured the contents back into the carafe. Then he picked up
his bottle of Lourdes water. There was very little in it now for
the bulk of it had been used to fill the five cups which stood
in the vales of the pentagram-but enough-and he sprinkled a few
drops into the water in the carafe.
Richard was speaking-instinctively now in a lowered voice
-assuring Simon that they always used Burrows Malvern for
drinking purposes, when the Duke filled the glass again and
handed it back to Simon. 'Now try that.'
Simon sipped again and nodded quickly. 'Urn, that seems quite
different. I think it must have been my imagination before,' and
he drank off the contents of the glass.
Again for a long period no one spoke. Only the scraping of a
mouse behind the wainscot, sounding abnormally loud, jarred upon
the stillness. That frantic insistent gnawing frayed Marie Lou's
nerves to such a pitch that she wanted to scream, but after a
while that, too, ceased and the heavy silence, pregnant with
suspense, enveloped them once more. Even the gentle patter on
the window-panes was no longer there to remind them of healthy,
normal things, for the rain had stopped, and in that soundless
room the only movement was the soft flicker of the logs, piled
high in the wide fireplace.
It seemed that they had been crouching in that pentacle for
nights on end and that their frugal dinner lay days away. Their
discomfort had been dulled into a miserable apathy and they were
drowsy now after these hours of strained uneventful watching.
Richard lay down again to try and snatch a little sleep. The
Duke alone remained alert. He knew that this long interval of
inactivity on the part of the malefic powers was only a snare
designed to give a false sense of security before the renewal of
the attack. At length he shifted his position slightly and as he
did so he chanced to glance upwards at the ceiling. Suddenly it
seemed to him that the Lights were not quite so bright as they
had been. It might be his imagination, due to the fact that he
was anticipating trouble, but somehow he felt certain that the
ceiling had been brighter when he had looked at it before. In
quick alarm he roused the others.
Simon nodded, realising why De Richleau had touched him on the
shoulder and confirming his suspicion. Then with straining eyes,
they all watched the cornice, where the concealed lights ran
round the wall above the top of the bookshelves.
The action was so slow, that each of them felt their eyes must
be deceiving them, and yet an inner conviction told them that it
was true. Shadows had appeared where no shadows were before.
Slowly but surely the current was failing and the lights dimming
as they watched.
There was something strangely terrifying now about that quiet
room. It was orderly and peaceful, just as Richard knew it day
by day, except for the abseace of the furniture. No nebulous
ghost-like figure had risen up to confront them, but there, as
the minutes passed, they were faced with an unaccountable
phenomenon-those bright electric globes hidden from their sight
were gradually but unquestionably being dimmed.
The shadows from the bookcases lengthened. The centre of me
ceiling became a dusky patch. Gradually, gradually, as with
caught breath they watched, the room was being plunged in
darkness. Soundless and stealthy, that black shadow upon the
ceiling grew in size and the binding of the books became obscure
where they had before been bright until, after what seemed an
eternity of time, no light remained save only the faintest line
just above the rim of the top bookshelf, the five candles
burning steadily in the points of the five-starred pentagram,
and the dying fire.
Richard shuddered suddenly. 'My God! It's cold,' he exclaimed,
drawing Marie Lou towards him. The Duke nodded, silent and
watchful. He felt that sinister chill draught beginning to flow
upon the back of his neck, and his scalp prickled as he swung
round with a sudden jerk to face it.
There was nothing to be seen-only the vague outline of the
bookcases rising high and stark towards the ceiling where the
dull ribbon of light still glowed. The flames of the candles
were bent now at an angle under the increasing strength of the
cold invisible air current that pressed steadily upon them.
De Richleau began to intone a prayer. The wind ceased as
suddenly as it had begun, but a moment later it began to play
upon them again-this time from a different quarter.
The Duke resumed his prayer-the wind checked-and then came
with renewed force from another angle. He swung to meet it but
it was at his back again.
A faint, low moaning became perceptible as the unholy blast
began to circle round the pentacle. Round and round it
swirled with ever-increasing strength and violence, beating up
out of the shadows in sudden wild gusts of arctic iciness, and
tearing at them with chill, invisible, clutching fingers, so
that it seemed as if they were standing in the very vortex of a
cyclone. The candles flickered wildly-and went out.
Richard, his scepticism badly shaken, quickly pushed Marie Lou
to one side and whipped out his matches. He struck one, and got
the nearest candle alight again but, as he turned to the next,
that cold damp evil wind came once more, chilling the
perspiration that had broken out upon his forehead, snuffing the
candle that he had re-lit and the half-burnt match which he
still held between his fingers,
He lit another and it spluttered out almost before the wood
had caught-another-and another, but they would not burn.
He glimpsed Simon's face for an instant, white, set, ghastly,
the eyeballs protruding unnaturally as he knelt staring out into
the shadows-then the whole centre of the room was plunged in
blackness.
'We must hold hands,' whispered the Duke. 'Quick, it will
strengthen our resistance,' and in the murk they fumbled for
each other's fingers, all standing up now, until they formed a
little ring in the very centre of the pentagram, hand clasped in
hand and bodies back to back.
The whirling hurricane ceased as suddenly as it had begun. A
unnatural stillness descended on the room again. Then without
warning, an uncontrollable fit of trembling took possession of
Marie Lou.
'Steady, my sweet,' breathed Richard, gripping her 'hand more
tightly, 'you'll be all right in a minute.' He thought that she
was suffering from the effect of that awful cold which had
penetrated the thin garments of them all, but she was standing
facing the grate and her knees shook under her as she stammered
out:
'But look-the fire.'
Simon was behind her but the Duke and Richard, who were on
either side, turned their heads and saw the thing that had
caused her such excess of terror. The piled-up logs had flared
into fresh life as that strange rushing wind had circled round
the room, but now the flames had died down and, as their eyes
rested upon it, they saw that the red hot embers were turning
black. It was as though some monstrous invisible hand was
dabbing at it, then almost in a second, every spark of light in
that great, glowing fire was quenched.
'Pray,' urged the Duke, 'for God's sake, pray.'
After a little their eyes grew accustomed to this new dark
ness. The electric globes hidden behind the cornice were not
quite dead. They flickered and seemed about to fail entirely
every few moments, yet always the power exerted against them
seemed just not quite enough, for their area of light would
increase again, so that the shadows across the ceiling and below
the books were driven back. The four friends waited with
pounding hearts as they watched that silent struggle between
light and darkness and the swaying of the shadows backwards and
forwards, that ringed them in.
For what seemed an immeasurable time they stood in silent
apprehension, praying that the last gleam of light would hold
out, then, shattering that eerie silence like the sound of guns
there came three swift, loud knocks upon the window-pane.
'What's that?' snapped Richard.
'Stay still,' hissed the Duke.
A voice came suddenly from outside in the garden. It was clear
and unmistakable. Each one of them recognised it instantly as
that of Rex.
'Say, I saw your light burning. Come on and let me in.'
With a little sigh of relief at the breaking of the tension,
Richard let go Marie Lou's hand and took a step forward. But the
Duke grabbed his shoulder and jerked him back:
'Don't be a fool,' he rasped. 'It's a trap.'
'Come on now. What in heck is keeping you?' the voice
demanded. 'It's mighty cold out here, let me in quick.'
Richard alone remained momentarily unconvinced that it was a
superhuman agency at work. The others felt a shiver of horror
run through their limbs at the perfect imitation of Rex's voice,
which they were convinced was a manifestation of some terrible
entity endeavouring to trick them into leaving their carefully
constructed defence.
'Richard,' the voice came again, angrily now. 'It's Rex I tell
you-Rex. Stop all this fooling and get this door undone.' But
the four figures in the pentacle now remained tense, silent and
unresponsive.
The voice spoke no more and once again there was a long
interval of silence.
De Richleau feared that the Adversary was gathering his forces
for a direct attack and it was that, above all other things,
which filled him with dread. He was reasonably confident that
his own intelligence would serve to sense out and avoid any
fresh pitfalls which might be set, providing the others would
obey his bidding and remain steadfast in their determination not
to leave the pentacle, but he had failed in his attempt to
secure the holy wafers of the Blessed Sacrament that afternoon,
the lights were all but overcome, the sacred candles had been
snuffed out. The holy water, horseshoes, garlic and the pentacle
itself might only prove a partial defence if the dark entities
which were about them made an open and determined assault,
'What's that!' exclaimed Simon, and they swung round to face
the new danger. The shadows were massing into deeper blackness
in one corner of the room. Something was moving there.
A dim phosphorescent blob began to glow in the darkness;
shimmering and spreading into a great hummock, its outline
gradually became clearer. It was not a man form nor yet an
animal, but heaved there on the floor like some monstrous living
sack. It had no eyes or face but from it there radiated a
terrible malefic intelligence.
Suddenly there ceased to be anything ghostlike about it. The
Thing had a whitish pimply skin, leprous and unclean, like some
huge silver slug. Waves of satanic power rippled through its
spineless body, causing it to throb and work continually like a
great mass of new-made dough. A horrible stench of decay and
corruption filled the room; for as it writhed it exuded a slimy
poisonous moisture which trickled in little rivulets across the
polished floor. It was solid, terribly real, a living thing.
They could even see long, single, golden hairs, separated from
each other by ulcerous patches of skin, quivering and waving as
they rose on end from its flabby body-and suddenly it began to
laugh at them, a low, horrid, chuckling laugh.
Marie Lou reeled against Richard, pressing the back of her
hand against her mouth and biting into it to prevent a scream.
His eyes were staring, a cold perspiration broke out upon his
face.
De Richleau knew that it was a Saiitii manifestation of the
most powerful and dangerous kind. His nails bit into the palms
of his hands as he watched that shapeless mass, silver white and
putrescent, heave and ferment.
Suddenly it moved, with the rapidity of a cat, yet they heard
the squelching sound as it leapt along the floor, leaving a wet
slimy trail in its wake, that poisoned the air like foul gases
given off by animal remains.
They spun round to face it, then it laughed again, mocking
them with that quiet, diabolical chuckle that had the power to
fill them with such utter dread.
It lay for a moment near the window pulsating with demoniac
energy like some enormous livid heart. Then it leapt again back
to the place where it had been before.
Shuddering at the thought of that ghastliness springing upon
then- backs they turned with lightning speed to meet it, but it
only lay there wobbling and crepitating with unholy glee.
'Oh, God!' gasped Richard.
The masked door which led up to the nursery was slowly
opening. A line of white appeared in the gap from near the floor
to about three feet in height. It broadened as the door swung
back poiselessly upon its hinges, and Marie Lou gave a terrified
cry.
'It's Fleur!'
The men, too, instantly recognised the little body, in the
white nightgown, vaguely outlined against the blackness of the
shadows, as the face with its dark aureole of curling hair be
came clear.
The Thing was only two yards from the child. With hideous
merriment it chuckled evilly and flopping forward, decreased the
distance by a half.
With one swift movement, De Richleau Sung his arm about Marie
Lou's neck and jerked her backwards, her chin gripped fast in
the crook of his elbow. 'It's not Fleur,' he cried desperately.
'Only some awful thing which has taken her shape to deceive
you.'
'Of course it's Fleur-she walking in her sleep!' Richard
started forward to spring towards the child, but De Richleau
grapped his arm with his free hand and wrenched him back.
'It's not,' he insisted in an agonised whisper. 'Richard, I
beg you! Have a little faith in me! Look at her face-it's blue!
Oh, Lord protect us!'
At that positive suggestion, thrown out with such vital force
at a moment of supreme emotional tension, it did appear to them
for an instant that the child's face had a corpse-like bluish
tinge then, upon the swift plea for Divine aid, the lines of the
figure seemed to blur and tremble. The Thing laughed, but this
time with thwarted malice, a high-pitched, angry, furious note.
Then both the child and that nameless Thing became transparent
and faded. The silent heavy darkness, undisturbed by sound or
movement, settled all about them once again.
With a gasp of relief the straining Duke released his pri
soners. 'Now do you believe me?' he muttered hoarsely, but there
was not time for them to reply. The next attack developed almost
instantly.
Simon was crouching in the middle of the circle. Marie Lou
felt his body trembling against her thigh. She put her hand on
his shoulder to steady him and found that he was shaking like an
epileptic in a fit.
He began to gibber. Great shudders shook his frame from head
to toe and suddenly he burst into heart-rending sobs.
'What is it, Simon,' she bent towards him quickly, but he took
no notice of her and crouched there on all fours like a dog
until, with a sudden jerk, he pulled himself upright and began
to mutter:
'I won't-I won't I say-I won't. D'you hear-- You mustn't make
me-no-no-- No!' Then with a reeling, drunken motion he staggered
forward in the direction of the window. But Marie Lou was too
quick for him and Sung both arms about his neck.
'Simon darling-Simon,' she panted. 'You mustn't leave us.'
For a moment he remained still, then, his body twisted
violently as though his limbs were animated by some terrible
inhuman force, and he flung her from him. The mild good-natured
smile had left his face and it seemed, in the faint light which
still glowed from the cornice, that he had become an utterly
changed personality-his mouth hung open showing the bared teeth
in a snarl of ferocious rage-his eyes glinted hot and dangerous
with the glare of insanity-a little dribble of saliva ran down
his chin.
'Quick, Richard,' cried the Duke. 'They've got him-for God's
sake pull him down!'
Richard had seen enough now to destroy his scepticism for
life. He followed De Richleau's lead, grappling frantically with
Simon, and all three of them crashed struggling to the floor,
'Oh, God,' sobbed Marie Lou. 'Oh, God, dear God!'
Simon's breath came in great gasps as though his chest would
burst. He fought and struggled like a maniac, but Richard,
desperate now, kneed him in the stomach and between them they
managed to hold him down. Then De Rich-leau, who, fearing such
an attack, had had the forethought to provide himself with
cords, succeeded in tying his wrists and ankles.
Richard rose panting from the struggle, smoothed back his dark
hair, and said huskily to the Duke. 'I take it all back. I'm
sorry if I've been an extra nuisance to you.'
De Richleau patted him on the elbow. He could not smile for
his eyes were flickering, even as Richard spoke, from corner to
corner of that grim, darkened room, seeking, yet dreading, some
new form in which the Adversary might attempt their undoing.
All three linked their arms together and stood, with Simon's
body squirming at their feet, jerking their heads from side to
side in nervous expectancy. They had not long to wait. Indis
tinct at first, but certain after a moment, there was a stirring
in the blackness near the door. Some new horror was forming out
there in the shadows beyond the pointers of the pentacle-just on
a level with their heads.
Their grip upon each other tightened as they fought des
perately to recruit their courage. Marie Lou stood between the
others, her eyes wide and distended, as she watched this fresh
manifestation gradually take shape and gain solidity.
Her scalp began to prickle beneath her chestnut curls. The
Thing was forming into a long, dark, beast-like face. Two tiny
points of light appeared in it just above the level of her eyes.
She felt the short hairs at the back of her skull lift of their
own volition like the hackles of a dog.
The points of light grew in size and intensity. They were
eyes. Round, protuberant and burning with a fiery glow, they
bored into hers, watching her with a horrible unwinking stare.
She wanted desperately to break away and run, but her knees
sagged beneath her. The head of the Beast merged into powerful
shoulders and the blackness below solidified into strong thick
legs.
'It's a horse!' gasped Richard. 'A riderless horse.'
De Richleau groaned. It was a horse indeed. A great black
stallion and it had no rider that was visible to them, but he
knew its terrible significance. Mocata, grown desperate by his
failures to wrest Simon from their keeping, had abandoned the
attempt and, in savage revenge, now sent the Angel of Death
himself to claim them.
A saddle of crimson leather was strapped upon the stallion's
back, the pressure of invisible feet held the long stirrup
leathers rigid to its flanks, and unseen hands held the reins
taut a few inches above its withers. The Duke knew well enough
that no human who has beheld that dread rider in all his sombre
glory has ever lived to tell of it. If that dark Presence broke
into the pentacle they would see him all too certainly, but at
the price of death.
The sweat streaming down his face, Richard held his ground,
staring with fascinated horror at the muzzle of the beast, The
fleshy nose wrinkled, the lips drew back, barring two rows of
yellowish teeth. It champed its silver bit. Flecks of foam,
white and real, dripped from its loose mouth.
It snorted violently and its heated breath came like two
clouds of steam from its quivering nostrils warm and damp on his
face. He heard De Richleau praying, frantically, unceasingly,
and tried to follow suit.
The stallion whinnied, tossed its head and backed into the
bookcases drawn by the power of those unseen hands, its mighty
hoofs ringing loud on the boards. Then, as though rowelled by
knife-edged spurs, it was launched upon them.
Marie Lou screamed and tried to tear herself from De Rich-
leau's grip, but his slim fingers were like a steel vice upon
her arm. He remained there, ashen-faced but rigid, fronting the
huge beast which seemed about to trample all three of them under
foot.
As it plunged forward the only thought which penetrated
Richard's brain was to protect Marie Lou, Instead of leaping
back, he sprang in front of her with his automatic levelled and
pressed the trigger.
The crash of the explosion sounded like a thunder-clap in that
confined space. Again-again-again, he fired while blinding
flashes lit the room as though with streaks of lighting. For a
succession of seconds the whole library was as bright as day and
the gilded bookbacks stood out so clearly that De Richleau could
even read the titles across the empty space where, so lately,
the great horse had been.
The silence that descended on them when Richard ceased fire
was so intense that they could hear each other breathing, and
for the moment they were plunged in utter darkness.
After that glaring succession of flashes from the shots, the
little rivers of light around the cornice seemed to have shrunk
to the glimmer of night lights coming beneath heavy curtains.
They could no longer even see each other's figures as they
crouched together in the ring.
The thought of the servants flashed for a second into
Richard's mind. The shooting was bound to have fetched them out
of bed. If they came down their presence might put an end to
this ghastly business. But the minutes passed. No welcome sound
of running feet came to break that horrid stillness that had
closed in upon them once more. With damp hands be fingered his
automatic and found that the magazine was empty. In his frantic
terror he had loosed off every one of the eight shots.
How long they remained there, tense with horror, peering again
into those awful shadows, they never knew, yet each became
suddenly aware that the steed of the Dark Angel, who had been
sent out from the underworld to bring about their destruction,
was steadily re-forming.
The red eyes began to glow in the long dark face. The body
lengthened. The stallion's hoof-beats rang upon the floor as it
stamped with impatience to be unleashed. The very smell of the
stable was in the room. That gleaming harness stood out plain
and clear. The reins rose sharply from its polished bit to bend
uncannily in that invisible grip above its saddle bow. The black
beast snorted, reared high in to the air, and then the crouching
humans faced that terrifying charge again.
The Duke felt Marie Lou sway against him, clutch at his
shoulder, and slip to the floor. The strain had proved too great
and she had fainted. He could do nothing for her-the beast was
actually upon them.
It baulked, upon the very edge of the pentacle, its fore hoofs
slithering upon the polished floor, its back legs crashing under
it as though faced with some invisible barrier.
With a neigh of fright and pain it flung up its powerful head
as though its face had been brought into contact with a red-hot
bar. It backed away champing and whinnying until its steaming
hindquarters pressed against the book-lined wall.
Richard stooped to clasp Marie Lou's limp body. In their fear
they had all unconsciously retreated from the middle to the edge
of the circle. As he knelt his foot caught one of the cups of
Holy Water set in the vales of the pentacle. It toppled over.
The water spilled and ran to waste upon the floor.
Instantly a roar of savage triumph filled the room, coming
from beneath their feet. The ab-human monster from the outer
circle-that obscene sack-like Thing-appeared again. Its body
vibrated with tremendous rapidity. It screamed at them with
positively frantic glee. With incredible speed the stallion was
swung by its invisible rider at the gap in the protective
barrier. The black beast plunged, scattering the gutted candles
and dried mandrake, then reared above them, its great, dark
belly on a level with their heads, its enormous hoofs poised in
mid-air about to batter out their brains.
For one awful second it hovered there while Richard crouched
gazing upward, his arms locked tight round the unconscious Marie
Lou, De Richleau stood his ground above them both, the sweat
pouring in great rivulets down his lean face.
Almost, it seemed, the end had come. The the Duke used his
final resources, and did a thing which shall never be done
except in the direst emergency when the very soul is in peril of
destruction. In a clear sharp voice he pronounced the last two
lines of the dread Sussamma Ritual.
A streak of light seemed to curl for a second round the
stallion's body, as though it had been struck with unerring aim,
caught in the toils of some gigantic whip-lash and hurled back.
The Thing disintegrated instantly in sizzling atoms of
opalescent light. The horse dissolved into the silent shadows.
Those mysterious and unconquerable powers, the Lord of Light,
the Timeless Ones, had answered; compelied by those mystic words
to leave their eternal contemplation of Supreme Beatitude for a
fraction of earthly time, to intervene for the salvation of
those four small flickering flames that burned in the
beleaguered humans.
An utter silence descended upon the room. It was so still that
De Richleau could hear Richard's heart pounding in his breast.
Yet he knew that by that extreme invocation they had been
carried out of their bodies on to the fifth. Astral plane. His
conscious brain told him that it was improbable that they would
ever get back. To call upon the very essence of light requires
almost superhuman courage, for Prana possesses an energy and
force utterly beyond the understanding of the human mind. As it
can shatter darkness in a manner beside which a million candle
power searchlight becomes a pallid beam, so it can attract all
lesser light to itself and carry it to realms undreamed of by
infinitesimal man.
For a moment it seemed that they had been ripped right out of
the room and were looking down into it. The pentacle had become
a flaming star. Their bodies were dark shadows grouped in its
centre. The peace and silence of death surged over them in great
saturating waves. They were above the house. Cardinals Folly
became a black speck in the distance. Then everything faded.
Time ceased, and it seemed that for a thousand thousand years
they floated, atoms of radiant matter in an immense immeasurable
void-circling for ever in the soundless stratosphere-being shut
off from every feeling and sensation, as though travelling with
effortless impulse five hundred fathoms deep below the current
levels of some uncharted sea.
Then, after a passage of eons in human time they saw the house
again, infinitely far beneath them, their bodies lying in the
pentacle and that darkened room. In an utter eerie silence the
dust of centuries was falling . . . falling. Softly, impalpably,
like infinitely tiny particles of swansdown, it seemed to cover
them, the room, and all that was in it, with a fine grey powder.
De Richleau raised his head. It seemed to him that he had been
on a long journey and then slept for many days. He passed his
hand across his eyes and saw the familiar bookshelves in the
semi-darkened library. The bulbs above the cornice flickered and
the light came full on.
Marie Lou had come to and was struggling to her knees while
Richard fondled her with trembling hands, and murmured; 'We're
safe, darling-safe.'
Simon's eyes were free now from that terrible maniacal glare.
The Duke had no memory of having unloosened his bonds but he
knelt beside them looking as normal as he had when they had
first entered upon that terrible weaponless battle.
'Yes, we're safe-and Mocata is finished,' De Richleau passed a
hand over his eyes as if they were still clouded. 'The Angel of
Death was sent against us tonight, but he failed to get us, and
he will never return empty-handed to his dark Kingdom. Mocata
summoned him so Mocata must pay the penalty.'
'Are-are you sure of that?' Simon's jaw dropped suddenly.
'Certain. The age-old law of retaliation cannot fail to
operate. He will be dead before the morning.'
'But-but,' Simon stammered. 'Don't you realise that Mocata
never does these things himself. He throws other people into a
hypnotic trance and makes them do his devilish business for him.
One of the poor wretches who are in his power will have to pay
for this night's work.'
Even as he spoke there came the sound of running footsteps
along the flagstones of the terrace. A rending crash as a heavy
boot landed violently on the woodwork of the french-windows.
They burst open, and framed in them stood no vision but Rex
himself. Haggard, dishevelled, hollow-eyed, his face a ghastly
mask of panic, fear and fury.
He stood there for a moment staring at them as though they
were ghosts. In his arms he held the body of a woman; her fair
hair tumbled across his right arm, and her long silk-stockinged
legs dangled limply from the other.
Suddenly two great tears welled up into his eyes and trickled
slowly down his furrowed cheeks. Then as he laid the body gently
on the floor they saw that it was Tanith, and knew, by her
strange unnatural stillness, that she was dead.
28
Necromancy
'Oh, Rex!' Marie Lou dropped to her knees beside Tanith,
knowing that this must be the girl of whom he had raved to her
that afternoon. 'How awful for you!'
'How did this happen?' the Duke demanded. It was imperative
that he should know at once every move in the enemy's game, and
the urgent note in his voice helped to pull Rex together.
'I hardly know,' he gasped out. 'She got me along because she
was scared stiff of that swine Mocata. I couldn't call you up
this afternoon and later when I tried your line was blocked, but
I had to stay with her. We were going to pass the night together
in the parlour, but around midnight she left me and then-oh,
God! I fell asleep.'
'How long did you sleep for?' asked Richard quickly.
'Several hours, I reckon. I was about all in after yesterday,
but the second I woke I dashed up to her room and she was,
dressed as she is now-lying asleep, I figured-in an armchair. I
tried to wake her but I couldn't. Then I got real scared-
grabbed hold of her-and beat it down those stairs six at a time.
You've just no notion how frantic I was to get out of that place
and next thing I knew-I saw your light and came bursting in
here. She-she's not dead, is she?'
'Oh, Rex, you poor darling,' Marie Lou stammered as she chafed
Tanith's cold hands. 'I-I'm afraid--'
'She isn't-she can't be!' he protested wildly. 'That fiend's
only thrown her into a trance or something.'
Richard had taken a little mirror from Marie Lou's bag. He
held it against Tanith's bloodless lips. No trace of moisture
marred its surface. Then he pressed his hand beneath her breast.
'Her heart's stopped beating,' he said after a moment. 'I'm
sorry, old chap, but-well, I'm afraid you've got to face it.'
'The old-fashioned tests of death are not conclusive,' Simon
whispered to the Duke. 'Scientists say now that even arteries
can be cut and fail to bleed, but life still remains in the
body.
They've all come round to the belief that we're animated by a
sort of atomic energy-call it the soul if you like-and that the
body may retain that vital spark without showing the least sign
of life. Mightn't it be some form of catalepsy like that?'
'Of course,' De Richleau agreed. 'It has been proved time and
again that the senses are only imperfect vessels for collecting
impressions. There is something else which can see when the eyes
are closed and hear while the body is being painlessly cut to
ribbons under an anaesthetic. All the modern experimenters agree
that there are many states in which the body is not wholly alive
or wholly dead, but I fear there is little hope in this case.
You see we know that Mocata used her as his catspaw, so the poor
girl has been forced to pay the price of failure. I haven't a
single doubt that she is dead.'
Rex caught his last words and swung upon him frantically.
'God! this is frightful. I-I tried to kid myself but I think I
knew it the moment I picked her up. Her prophecy's come true
then.' He passed his hand over his eyes. 'I can't quite take it
in yet-this and all of you seem terribly unreal-but is she
problems in his mind. Fleur d'amour's birthday was in a couple
of weeks' tune. The child was easy, but a present for Marie Lou
was a different question. It must be something that she wanted
and yet a surprise. A difficult matter when she already had
everything with which his fine fortune could endow her, and
jewellery was not only banal but absurd. The sale of the lesser
stones among the Shulimoff treasure, which they had brought out
of Russia, had realised enough to provide her with a handsome
independent income and her retention of the finer gems alone
equipped her magnificently in that direction. He toyed with the
idea of buying her a two-year-old. He was not a racing man but
she was fond of horses and it would be fun for her to see her
own run at the lesser meetings.
After a while he turned restlessly on to his tummy, and began
to ponder this wretched muddle into which Simon had got himself.
The more he thought about it the less he could subscribe to the
Duke's obvious beliefs. That so-called Black Magic was still
practised in most of the Continental capitals and many of the
great cities in America, he knew. He had even met a man, a few
years before, who had told him that he had attended a
celebration of the Black Mass at a house in the Earls Court
district of London, yet he could not credit that it had been
anything more than a flimsy excuse for a crowd of intellectual
decadents to get disgustingly drunk and participate in a
wholesale sexual orgy. Simon was not that sort, or a fool
either, so it was certainly queer that he should have got
himself mixed up with such beastliness.
Richard turned over again, yawned, glanced at his friend whom,
he decided, he had never seen look more normal, and wondered if,
out of courtesy to the Duke, he could possibly continue to play
his part in this tedious farce until morning.
The banishing rituals which De Richleau had performed upon
Simon the previous night at Stonehenge had certainly proved
successful, and he had had a good sleep that afternoon. His
brain was now quick and clear as it had been in the old days
and, although Mocata's threats were principally directed against
himself, he was by far the most cheerful of the party. Despite
his recent experiences, his natural humour bubbling up very
nearly caused him to laugh at the thought of them all lying on
that hard floor because he had made an idiot of himself, and
Richard's obvious disgust at the discomforts imposed by the Duke
caused him much amusement. Nevertheless, he recognised that his
desire to laugh was mainly due to nervous tension, and accepted
with full understanding the necessity for these extreme
precautions. To think, for only a second, of how narrow his
escape had been was enough to sober instantly any tendency to
mirth and send a quick shudder through his limbs. He was only
anxious now, having dragged his friends into this horrible
affair, to cause them as little further trouble as possible by
following the Duke's leadership without question. With resolute
determination he kept his thoughts away from any of his dealings
with Mocata and set himself to endure his comfortless couch with
philosophic patience.
To outward appearances De Richleau slept. He lay perfectly
still on his back breathing evenly and almost imperceptibly, but
he had always been able to do with very little sleep. Actually
he was recruiting his forces in a manner that was not possible
to the others. That gentle rhythmic breathing, perfectly but
unconsciously timed from long practice, was the way of the Raja
Yoga which he had learnt when young, and all the time he
visualised himself, the others, the whole room as
blue-blue-blue, the colour vibration which gives love and
sympathy and spiritual attainment. Yet he was conscious of every
tiny movement made by the others; the gentle sighing of the
breeze outside, and the occasional plop of burning logs as they
fell into the embers. For over two hours he barely moved a
muscle but all his senses remained watchful and alert.
The night seemed never-ending. Outside the wind dropped and a
steady rain began to fall, dripping with monotonous regularity
from the eaves on to the terrace. Richard became more and more
sore from the hard floor. He was tired now and bored by this
apparently senseless vigil. He thought that it must be about
half past one, and daylight would not come to release them from
their voluntary prison before half past five or six. That meant
another four hours of this acute and momentarily increasing
discomfort. As he tossed and turned it grew upon him with ever-
increasing force how stupid and futile this whole affair seemed
to be. De Richleau was so obviously the victim of a gang of
clever tricksters, and his wide reading on obscure subjects had
caused his imagination to run away with him. To pander to such
folly any longer simply was not good enough. With these thoughts
now dominating his mind Richard suddenly sat up.
'Look here,' he said. 'I'm sick of this. A joke's a joke, but
we've had no lunch and precious little dinner, and I haven't had
a drink all day. Some of you have got far too lively an
imagination, and we are making utter fools of ourselves. We had
better go upstairs. If you're really frightened of anything
happening to Simon we could easily shift four beds into one room
and all sleep within a hand's reach of each other. Nobody will
be able to get at him then. But frankly, at the moment, I think
we're behaving like a lot of lunatics.'
De Richleau rose with a jerk and gave him a sharp look from
beneath his grey slanting devil's eyebrows. 'Something's
beginning to happen,' he told himself swiftly. 'They're working
upon Richard, because he's the most sceptical amongst us, to try
and make him break up the pentacle.' Aloud he said quietly: 'So
you're still unconvinced that Simon is in real danger, Richard?'
'Yes, I am.' Richard's voice held an angry aggressive note
quite foreign to his normal manner. 'I regard this Black Magic
business as stupid nonsense. If you could cite me a single case
where so-called magicians have actually done their stuff before
sane people it would be different. But they're charlatans- every
one of them. Take Cagliostro-he was supposed to make gold but
nobody ever saw any of it, and when the Inquisition got hold of
him they bunged him in a dungeon in Rome and he died there in
abject misery. His Black Magic couldn't even procure him a hunk
of bread. Look at Catherine de Medici. She was a witch on the
grand scale if ever there was one- built a special tower at
Vincennes for Cosimo Ruggeri, an Italian sorcerer. They used to
slit up babies and practise all sorts of abominations there
together night after night to ensure the death of Henry of
Navarre and the birth of children to her own sons. But it didn't
do her a ha'porth of good. All four died childless so that at
last, despite all her bloody sacrifices, the House of Valois was
extinct, and Henry, the hated Bear-nais, became King of France
after all. Come nearer home if you like. Take that absurd fool
Elipas Levi who was supposed to be the Grand High Whatnot in
Victorian times. Did you ever read his book, The Doctrine and
Ritual of Magic! In his introduction he professes that he is
going to tell you all about the game and that he's written a
really practical book, by the aid of which anybody who likes can
raise the devil, and perform all sorts of monkey tricks. He
drools on for hundreds of pages about fiery swords and
tetragrams and the terrible aqua poffana, but does he tell you
anything? Not a blessed thing. Once it comes to a showdown he
hedges like the crook he was and tells you that such mysteries
are far too terrible and dangerous to be entrusted to the
profane. Mysterious balderdash my friend. I'm going to have a
good strong nightcap and go to bed.'
Marie Lou looked at him in amazement. Never before had she
heard Richard denounce any subject with such passion and venom.
Ordinarily, he possessed an extremely open mind and, if he
doubted any statement, confined himself to a kindly but slightly
cynical expression of disbelief. It was extraordinary that he
should suddenly forget even his admirable manners and be
downright rude to one of his greatest friends.
De Richleau studied his face with quiet understanding and as
Richard stood up he stood up too, laying his hand upon the
younger man's shoulder. 'Richard,' he said. 'You think I'm a
superstitious fool, don't you?'
'No.' Richard shrugged uncomfortably. 'OnIy that you've been
through a pretty difficult time and, quite frankly, that your
imagination is a bit overstrained at the moment.'
The Duke smiled. 'All right, perhaps you are correct, but we
have been friends for a long time now and this business tonight
has not interfered with our friendship in any way, has it?'
'Why, of course not. You know that.'
'Then, if I begged of you to do something for my sake, just
because of that friendship, you would do it, wouldn't you?'
'Certainly I would,' Richard's hesitation was hardly percep
tible and the Duke cut in quickly, taking him at his word.
'Good! Then we will agree that Black Magic may be nothing but
a childish superstition. Yet I happen to be frightened of it, so
I ask you, my friend, who is not bothered with such stupid
fears, to stay with me tonight-and not move outside this
pentacle.'
Richard shrugged again, and then smiled ruefully. . . .
'You've caught me properly now so I must make the best of it;
quite obviously if you say that, it is impossible for me to
refuse.'
Thank you,' De Richleau murmured as they both sat down again,
and to himself he thought: 'That's the first move in the game to
me.' Then as a fresh silence fell upon the party, he began to
ruminate upon the strangeness of the fact that elemen-tals and
malicious spirits may be very powerful, but their nature is so
low and their intelligence so limited that they can nearly
always be trapped by the divine spark of reason which is the
salvation of mankind. The snare was such an obvious one and yet
Richard's true nature had reasserted itself so rapidly that the
force, which had moved him to try and break up their circle for
its benefit, had been scotched almost before it had had a chance
to operate.
They settled down again but in some subtle way the atmosphere
had changed. The fire glowed red on its great pile of ashes, the
candles burned unflickeringly in the five points of the star,
and the electric globes above the cornices still lit every comer
of the room with a soft diffused radiance, yet the four friends
made no further pretence of trying to sleep. Instead they sat
back to back, while the moments passed, creeping with leaden
feet towards the dawn.
Marie Lou was perplexed and worried by Richard's outburst, De
Richleau tense with a new expectancy, now he felt that psychic
forces were actually moving within the room. Stealthy
-invisible-but powerful; he knew them to be feeling their way
from bay to bay of the pentacle, seeking for any imperfection in
the barrier he had erected, just as a strong current swirls and
eddies about the jagged fissures of a reef searching for an
entrance into a lagoon.
Simon sat crouched, his hands clasped round has knees,
staring, apparently with unseeing eyes, at the long lines of
books. It seemed that he was listening intently and the Duke
watched him with special care, knowing that he was the weak spot
of their defence. Presently, his voice a little hoarse, Simon
spoke:
'I'm awfully thirsty. I wish we'd got a drink.'
De Richleau smiled, a little grimly. Another of the minor
manifestations-the evil was working upon Simon now but only to
give another instance of its brutish stupidity. It overlooked
the fact that he had provided for such an emergency with that
big carafe of water in the centre of the pentacle. The fact that
it had caused Simon to forget its presence was of little moment.
'Here you are, my friend,' he said, pouring out a glass. This
will quench your thirst.'
Simon sipped it and put it aside with a shake of his narrow
head. 'Do you use well-water, Richard?' he asked jerkily. This
stuff tastes beastly to me-brackish and stale.'
'Ah!' thought De Richleau. 'That's the line they are trying,
is it? Well, I can defeat them there,' and taking Simon's glass
he poured the contents back into the carafe. Then he picked up
his bottle of Lourdes water. There was very little in it now for
the bulk of it had been used to fill the five cups which stood
in the vales of the pentagram-but enough-and he sprinkled a few
drops into the water in the carafe.
Richard was speaking-instinctively now in a lowered voice
-assuring Simon that they always used Burrows Malvern for
drinking purposes, when the Duke filled the glass again and
handed it back to Simon. 'Now try that.'
Simon sipped again and nodded quickly. 'Urn, that seems quite
different. I think it must have been my imagination before,' and
he drank off the contents of the glass.
Again for a long period no one spoke. Only the scraping of a
mouse behind the wainscot, sounding abnormally loud, jarred upon
the stillness. That frantic insistent gnawing frayed Marie Lou's
nerves to such a pitch that she wanted to scream, but after a
while that, too, ceased and the heavy silence, pregnant with
suspense, enveloped them once more. Even the gentle patter on
the window-panes was no longer there to remind them of healthy,
normal things, for the rain had stopped, and in that soundless
room the only movement was the soft flicker of the logs, piled
high in the wide fireplace.
It seemed that they had been crouching in that pentacle for
nights on end and that their frugal dinner lay days away. Their
discomfort had been dulled into a miserable apathy and they were
drowsy now after these hours of strained uneventful watching.
Richard lay down again to try and snatch a little sleep. The
Duke alone remained alert. He knew that this long interval of
inactivity on the part of the malefic powers was only a snare
designed to give a false sense of security before the renewal of
the attack. At length he shifted his position slightly and as he
did so he chanced to glance upwards at the ceiling. Suddenly it
seemed to him that the Lights were not quite so bright as they
had been. It might be his imagination, due to the fact that he
was anticipating trouble, but somehow he felt certain that the
ceiling had been brighter when he had looked at it before. In
quick alarm he roused the others.
Simon nodded, realising why De Richleau had touched him on the
shoulder and confirming his suspicion. Then with straining eyes,
they all watched the cornice, where the concealed lights ran
round the wall above the top of the bookshelves.
The action was so slow, that each of them felt their eyes must
be deceiving them, and yet an inner conviction told them that it
was true. Shadows had appeared where no shadows were before.
Slowly but surely the current was failing and the lights dimming
as they watched.
There was something strangely terrifying now about that quiet
room. It was orderly and peaceful, just as Richard knew it day
by day, except for the abseace of the furniture. No nebulous
ghost-like figure had risen up to confront them, but there, as
the minutes passed, they were faced with an unaccountable
phenomenon-those bright electric globes hidden from their sight
were gradually but unquestionably being dimmed.
The shadows from the bookcases lengthened. The centre of me
ceiling became a dusky patch. Gradually, gradually, as with
caught breath they watched, the room was being plunged in
darkness. Soundless and stealthy, that black shadow upon the
ceiling grew in size and the binding of the books became obscure
where they had before been bright until, after what seemed an
eternity of time, no light remained save only the faintest line
just above the rim of the top bookshelf, the five candles
burning steadily in the points of the five-starred pentagram,
and the dying fire.
Richard shuddered suddenly. 'My God! It's cold,' he exclaimed,
drawing Marie Lou towards him. The Duke nodded, silent and
watchful. He felt that sinister chill draught beginning to flow
upon the back of his neck, and his scalp prickled as he swung
round with a sudden jerk to face it.
There was nothing to be seen-only the vague outline of the
bookcases rising high and stark towards the ceiling where the
dull ribbon of light still glowed. The flames of the candles
were bent now at an angle under the increasing strength of the
cold invisible air current that pressed steadily upon them.
De Richleau began to intone a prayer. The wind ceased as
suddenly as it had begun, but a moment later it began to play
upon them again-this time from a different quarter.
The Duke resumed his prayer-the wind checked-and then came
with renewed force from another angle. He swung to meet it but
it was at his back again.
A faint, low moaning became perceptible as the unholy blast
began to circle round the pentacle. Round and round it
swirled with ever-increasing strength and violence, beating up
out of the shadows in sudden wild gusts of arctic iciness, and
tearing at them with chill, invisible, clutching fingers, so
that it seemed as if they were standing in the very vortex of a
cyclone. The candles flickered wildly-and went out.
Richard, his scepticism badly shaken, quickly pushed Marie Lou
to one side and whipped out his matches. He struck one, and got
the nearest candle alight again but, as he turned to the next,
that cold damp evil wind came once more, chilling the
perspiration that had broken out upon his forehead, snuffing the
candle that he had re-lit and the half-burnt match which he
still held between his fingers,
He lit another and it spluttered out almost before the wood
had caught-another-and another, but they would not burn.
He glimpsed Simon's face for an instant, white, set, ghastly,
the eyeballs protruding unnaturally as he knelt staring out into
the shadows-then the whole centre of the room was plunged in
blackness.
'We must hold hands,' whispered the Duke. 'Quick, it will
strengthen our resistance,' and in the murk they fumbled for
each other's fingers, all standing up now, until they formed a
little ring in the very centre of the pentagram, hand clasped in
hand and bodies back to back.
The whirling hurricane ceased as suddenly as it had begun. A
unnatural stillness descended on the room again. Then without
warning, an uncontrollable fit of trembling took possession of
Marie Lou.
'Steady, my sweet,' breathed Richard, gripping her 'hand more
tightly, 'you'll be all right in a minute.' He thought that she
was suffering from the effect of that awful cold which had
penetrated the thin garments of them all, but she was standing
facing the grate and her knees shook under her as she stammered
out:
'But look-the fire.'
Simon was behind her but the Duke and Richard, who were on
either side, turned their heads and saw the thing that had
caused her such excess of terror. The piled-up logs had flared
into fresh life as that strange rushing wind had circled round
the room, but now the flames had died down and, as their eyes
rested upon it, they saw that the red hot embers were turning
black. It was as though some monstrous invisible hand was
dabbing at it, then almost in a second, every spark of light in
that great, glowing fire was quenched.
'Pray,' urged the Duke, 'for God's sake, pray.'
After a little their eyes grew accustomed to this new dark
ness. The electric globes hidden behind the cornice were not
quite dead. They flickered and seemed about to fail entirely
every few moments, yet always the power exerted against them
seemed just not quite enough, for their area of light would
increase again, so that the shadows across the ceiling and below
the books were driven back. The four friends waited with
pounding hearts as they watched that silent struggle between
light and darkness and the swaying of the shadows backwards and
forwards, that ringed them in.
For what seemed an immeasurable time they stood in silent
apprehension, praying that the last gleam of light would hold
out, then, shattering that eerie silence like the sound of guns
there came three swift, loud knocks upon the window-pane.
'What's that?' snapped Richard.
'Stay still,' hissed the Duke.
A voice came suddenly from outside in the garden. It was clear
and unmistakable. Each one of them recognised it instantly as
that of Rex.
'Say, I saw your light burning. Come on and let me in.'
With a little sigh of relief at the breaking of the tension,
Richard let go Marie Lou's hand and took a step forward. But the
Duke grabbed his shoulder and jerked him back:
'Don't be a fool,' he rasped. 'It's a trap.'
'Come on now. What in heck is keeping you?' the voice
demanded. 'It's mighty cold out here, let me in quick.'
Richard alone remained momentarily unconvinced that it was a
superhuman agency at work. The others felt a shiver of horror
run through their limbs at the perfect imitation of Rex's voice,
which they were convinced was a manifestation of some terrible
entity endeavouring to trick them into leaving their carefully
constructed defence.
'Richard,' the voice came again, angrily now. 'It's Rex I tell
you-Rex. Stop all this fooling and get this door undone.' But
the four figures in the pentacle now remained tense, silent and
unresponsive.
The voice spoke no more and once again there was a long
interval of silence.
De Richleau feared that the Adversary was gathering his forces
for a direct attack and it was that, above all other things,
which filled him with dread. He was reasonably confident that
his own intelligence would serve to sense out and avoid any
fresh pitfalls which might be set, providing the others would
obey his bidding and remain steadfast in their determination not
to leave the pentacle, but he had failed in his attempt to
secure the holy wafers of the Blessed Sacrament that afternoon,
the lights were all but overcome, the sacred candles had been
snuffed out. The holy water, horseshoes, garlic and the pentacle
itself might only prove a partial defence if the dark entities
which were about them made an open and determined assault,
'What's that!' exclaimed Simon, and they swung round to face
the new danger. The shadows were massing into deeper blackness
in one corner of the room. Something was moving there.
A dim phosphorescent blob began to glow in the darkness;
shimmering and spreading into a great hummock, its outline
gradually became clearer. It was not a man form nor yet an
animal, but heaved there on the floor like some monstrous living
sack. It had no eyes or face but from it there radiated a
terrible malefic intelligence.
Suddenly there ceased to be anything ghostlike about it. The
Thing had a whitish pimply skin, leprous and unclean, like some
huge silver slug. Waves of satanic power rippled through its
spineless body, causing it to throb and work continually like a
great mass of new-made dough. A horrible stench of decay and
corruption filled the room; for as it writhed it exuded a slimy
poisonous moisture which trickled in little rivulets across the
polished floor. It was solid, terribly real, a living thing.
They could even see long, single, golden hairs, separated from
each other by ulcerous patches of skin, quivering and waving as
they rose on end from its flabby body-and suddenly it began to
laugh at them, a low, horrid, chuckling laugh.
Marie Lou reeled against Richard, pressing the back of her
hand against her mouth and biting into it to prevent a scream.
His eyes were staring, a cold perspiration broke out upon his
face.
De Richleau knew that it was a Saiitii manifestation of the
most powerful and dangerous kind. His nails bit into the palms
of his hands as he watched that shapeless mass, silver white and
putrescent, heave and ferment.
Suddenly it moved, with the rapidity of a cat, yet they heard
the squelching sound as it leapt along the floor, leaving a wet
slimy trail in its wake, that poisoned the air like foul gases
given off by animal remains.
They spun round to face it, then it laughed again, mocking
them with that quiet, diabolical chuckle that had the power to
fill them with such utter dread.
It lay for a moment near the window pulsating with demoniac
energy like some enormous livid heart. Then it leapt again back
to the place where it had been before.
Shuddering at the thought of that ghastliness springing upon
then- backs they turned with lightning speed to meet it, but it
only lay there wobbling and crepitating with unholy glee.
'Oh, God!' gasped Richard.
The masked door which led up to the nursery was slowly
opening. A line of white appeared in the gap from near the floor
to about three feet in height. It broadened as the door swung
back poiselessly upon its hinges, and Marie Lou gave a terrified
cry.
'It's Fleur!'
The men, too, instantly recognised the little body, in the
white nightgown, vaguely outlined against the blackness of the
shadows, as the face with its dark aureole of curling hair be
came clear.
The Thing was only two yards from the child. With hideous
merriment it chuckled evilly and flopping forward, decreased the
distance by a half.
With one swift movement, De Richleau Sung his arm about Marie
Lou's neck and jerked her backwards, her chin gripped fast in
the crook of his elbow. 'It's not Fleur,' he cried desperately.
'Only some awful thing which has taken her shape to deceive
you.'
'Of course it's Fleur-she walking in her sleep!' Richard
started forward to spring towards the child, but De Richleau
grapped his arm with his free hand and wrenched him back.
'It's not,' he insisted in an agonised whisper. 'Richard, I
beg you! Have a little faith in me! Look at her face-it's blue!
Oh, Lord protect us!'
At that positive suggestion, thrown out with such vital force
at a moment of supreme emotional tension, it did appear to them
for an instant that the child's face had a corpse-like bluish
tinge then, upon the swift plea for Divine aid, the lines of the
figure seemed to blur and tremble. The Thing laughed, but this
time with thwarted malice, a high-pitched, angry, furious note.
Then both the child and that nameless Thing became transparent
and faded. The silent heavy darkness, undisturbed by sound or
movement, settled all about them once again.
With a gasp of relief the straining Duke released his pri
soners. 'Now do you believe me?' he muttered hoarsely, but there
was not time for them to reply. The next attack developed almost
instantly.
Simon was crouching in the middle of the circle. Marie Lou
felt his body trembling against her thigh. She put her hand on
his shoulder to steady him and found that he was shaking like an
epileptic in a fit.
He began to gibber. Great shudders shook his frame from head
to toe and suddenly he burst into heart-rending sobs.
'What is it, Simon,' she bent towards him quickly, but he took
no notice of her and crouched there on all fours like a dog
until, with a sudden jerk, he pulled himself upright and began
to mutter:
'I won't-I won't I say-I won't. D'you hear-- You mustn't make
me-no-no-- No!' Then with a reeling, drunken motion he staggered
forward in the direction of the window. But Marie Lou was too
quick for him and Sung both arms about his neck.
'Simon darling-Simon,' she panted. 'You mustn't leave us.'
For a moment he remained still, then, his body twisted
violently as though his limbs were animated by some terrible
inhuman force, and he flung her from him. The mild good-natured
smile had left his face and it seemed, in the faint light which
still glowed from the cornice, that he had become an utterly
changed personality-his mouth hung open showing the bared teeth
in a snarl of ferocious rage-his eyes glinted hot and dangerous
with the glare of insanity-a little dribble of saliva ran down
his chin.
'Quick, Richard,' cried the Duke. 'They've got him-for God's
sake pull him down!'
Richard had seen enough now to destroy his scepticism for
life. He followed De Richleau's lead, grappling frantically with
Simon, and all three of them crashed struggling to the floor,
'Oh, God,' sobbed Marie Lou. 'Oh, God, dear God!'
Simon's breath came in great gasps as though his chest would
burst. He fought and struggled like a maniac, but Richard,
desperate now, kneed him in the stomach and between them they
managed to hold him down. Then De Rich-leau, who, fearing such
an attack, had had the forethought to provide himself with
cords, succeeded in tying his wrists and ankles.
Richard rose panting from the struggle, smoothed back his dark
hair, and said huskily to the Duke. 'I take it all back. I'm
sorry if I've been an extra nuisance to you.'
De Richleau patted him on the elbow. He could not smile for
his eyes were flickering, even as Richard spoke, from corner to
corner of that grim, darkened room, seeking, yet dreading, some
new form in which the Adversary might attempt their undoing.
All three linked their arms together and stood, with Simon's
body squirming at their feet, jerking their heads from side to
side in nervous expectancy. They had not long to wait. Indis
tinct at first, but certain after a moment, there was a stirring
in the blackness near the door. Some new horror was forming out
there in the shadows beyond the pointers of the pentacle-just on
a level with their heads.
Their grip upon each other tightened as they fought des
perately to recruit their courage. Marie Lou stood between the
others, her eyes wide and distended, as she watched this fresh
manifestation gradually take shape and gain solidity.
Her scalp began to prickle beneath her chestnut curls. The
Thing was forming into a long, dark, beast-like face. Two tiny
points of light appeared in it just above the level of her eyes.
She felt the short hairs at the back of her skull lift of their
own volition like the hackles of a dog.
The points of light grew in size and intensity. They were
eyes. Round, protuberant and burning with a fiery glow, they
bored into hers, watching her with a horrible unwinking stare.
She wanted desperately to break away and run, but her knees
sagged beneath her. The head of the Beast merged into powerful
shoulders and the blackness below solidified into strong thick
legs.
'It's a horse!' gasped Richard. 'A riderless horse.'
De Richleau groaned. It was a horse indeed. A great black
stallion and it had no rider that was visible to them, but he
knew its terrible significance. Mocata, grown desperate by his
failures to wrest Simon from their keeping, had abandoned the
attempt and, in savage revenge, now sent the Angel of Death
himself to claim them.
A saddle of crimson leather was strapped upon the stallion's
back, the pressure of invisible feet held the long stirrup
leathers rigid to its flanks, and unseen hands held the reins
taut a few inches above its withers. The Duke knew well enough
that no human who has beheld that dread rider in all his sombre
glory has ever lived to tell of it. If that dark Presence broke
into the pentacle they would see him all too certainly, but at
the price of death.
The sweat streaming down his face, Richard held his ground,
staring with fascinated horror at the muzzle of the beast, The
fleshy nose wrinkled, the lips drew back, barring two rows of
yellowish teeth. It champed its silver bit. Flecks of foam,
white and real, dripped from its loose mouth.
It snorted violently and its heated breath came like two
clouds of steam from its quivering nostrils warm and damp on his
face. He heard De Richleau praying, frantically, unceasingly,
and tried to follow suit.
The stallion whinnied, tossed its head and backed into the
bookcases drawn by the power of those unseen hands, its mighty
hoofs ringing loud on the boards. Then, as though rowelled by
knife-edged spurs, it was launched upon them.
Marie Lou screamed and tried to tear herself from De Rich-
leau's grip, but his slim fingers were like a steel vice upon
her arm. He remained there, ashen-faced but rigid, fronting the
huge beast which seemed about to trample all three of them under
foot.
As it plunged forward the only thought which penetrated
Richard's brain was to protect Marie Lou, Instead of leaping
back, he sprang in front of her with his automatic levelled and
pressed the trigger.
The crash of the explosion sounded like a thunder-clap in that
confined space. Again-again-again, he fired while blinding
flashes lit the room as though with streaks of lighting. For a
succession of seconds the whole library was as bright as day and
the gilded bookbacks stood out so clearly that De Richleau could
even read the titles across the empty space where, so lately,
the great horse had been.
The silence that descended on them when Richard ceased fire
was so intense that they could hear each other breathing, and
for the moment they were plunged in utter darkness.
After that glaring succession of flashes from the shots, the
little rivers of light around the cornice seemed to have shrunk
to the glimmer of night lights coming beneath heavy curtains.
They could no longer even see each other's figures as they
crouched together in the ring.
The thought of the servants flashed for a second into
Richard's mind. The shooting was bound to have fetched them out
of bed. If they came down their presence might put an end to
this ghastly business. But the minutes passed. No welcome sound
of running feet came to break that horrid stillness that had
closed in upon them once more. With damp hands be fingered his
automatic and found that the magazine was empty. In his frantic
terror he had loosed off every one of the eight shots.
How long they remained there, tense with horror, peering again
into those awful shadows, they never knew, yet each became
suddenly aware that the steed of the Dark Angel, who had been
sent out from the underworld to bring about their destruction,
was steadily re-forming.
The red eyes began to glow in the long dark face. The body
lengthened. The stallion's hoof-beats rang upon the floor as it
stamped with impatience to be unleashed. The very smell of the
stable was in the room. That gleaming harness stood out plain
and clear. The reins rose sharply from its polished bit to bend
uncannily in that invisible grip above its saddle bow. The black
beast snorted, reared high in to the air, and then the crouching
humans faced that terrifying charge again.
The Duke felt Marie Lou sway against him, clutch at his
shoulder, and slip to the floor. The strain had proved too great
and she had fainted. He could do nothing for her-the beast was
actually upon them.
It baulked, upon the very edge of the pentacle, its fore hoofs
slithering upon the polished floor, its back legs crashing under
it as though faced with some invisible barrier.
With a neigh of fright and pain it flung up its powerful head
as though its face had been brought into contact with a red-hot
bar. It backed away champing and whinnying until its steaming
hindquarters pressed against the book-lined wall.
Richard stooped to clasp Marie Lou's limp body. In their fear
they had all unconsciously retreated from the middle to the edge
of the circle. As he knelt his foot caught one of the cups of
Holy Water set in the vales of the pentacle. It toppled over.
The water spilled and ran to waste upon the floor.
Instantly a roar of savage triumph filled the room, coming
from beneath their feet. The ab-human monster from the outer
circle-that obscene sack-like Thing-appeared again. Its body
vibrated with tremendous rapidity. It screamed at them with
positively frantic glee. With incredible speed the stallion was
swung by its invisible rider at the gap in the protective
barrier. The black beast plunged, scattering the gutted candles
and dried mandrake, then reared above them, its great, dark
belly on a level with their heads, its enormous hoofs poised in
mid-air about to batter out their brains.
For one awful second it hovered there while Richard crouched
gazing upward, his arms locked tight round the unconscious Marie
Lou, De Richleau stood his ground above them both, the sweat
pouring in great rivulets down his lean face.
Almost, it seemed, the end had come. The the Duke used his
final resources, and did a thing which shall never be done
except in the direst emergency when the very soul is in peril of
destruction. In a clear sharp voice he pronounced the last two
lines of the dread Sussamma Ritual.
A streak of light seemed to curl for a second round the
stallion's body, as though it had been struck with unerring aim,
caught in the toils of some gigantic whip-lash and hurled back.
The Thing disintegrated instantly in sizzling atoms of
opalescent light. The horse dissolved into the silent shadows.
Those mysterious and unconquerable powers, the Lord of Light,
the Timeless Ones, had answered; compelied by those mystic words
to leave their eternal contemplation of Supreme Beatitude for a
fraction of earthly time, to intervene for the salvation of
those four small flickering flames that burned in the
beleaguered humans.
An utter silence descended upon the room. It was so still that
De Richleau could hear Richard's heart pounding in his breast.
Yet he knew that by that extreme invocation they had been
carried out of their bodies on to the fifth. Astral plane. His
conscious brain told him that it was improbable that they would
ever get back. To call upon the very essence of light requires
almost superhuman courage, for Prana possesses an energy and
force utterly beyond the understanding of the human mind. As it
can shatter darkness in a manner beside which a million candle
power searchlight becomes a pallid beam, so it can attract all
lesser light to itself and carry it to realms undreamed of by
infinitesimal man.
For a moment it seemed that they had been ripped right out of
the room and were looking down into it. The pentacle had become
a flaming star. Their bodies were dark shadows grouped in its
centre. The peace and silence of death surged over them in great
saturating waves. They were above the house. Cardinals Folly
became a black speck in the distance. Then everything faded.
Time ceased, and it seemed that for a thousand thousand years
they floated, atoms of radiant matter in an immense immeasurable
void-circling for ever in the soundless stratosphere-being shut
off from every feeling and sensation, as though travelling with
effortless impulse five hundred fathoms deep below the current
levels of some uncharted sea.
Then, after a passage of eons in human time they saw the house
again, infinitely far beneath them, their bodies lying in the
pentacle and that darkened room. In an utter eerie silence the
dust of centuries was falling . . . falling. Softly, impalpably,
like infinitely tiny particles of swansdown, it seemed to cover
them, the room, and all that was in it, with a fine grey powder.
De Richleau raised his head. It seemed to him that he had been
on a long journey and then slept for many days. He passed his
hand across his eyes and saw the familiar bookshelves in the
semi-darkened library. The bulbs above the cornice flickered and
the light came full on.
Marie Lou had come to and was struggling to her knees while
Richard fondled her with trembling hands, and murmured; 'We're
safe, darling-safe.'
Simon's eyes were free now from that terrible maniacal glare.
The Duke had no memory of having unloosened his bonds but he
knelt beside them looking as normal as he had when they had
first entered upon that terrible weaponless battle.
'Yes, we're safe-and Mocata is finished,' De Richleau passed a
hand over his eyes as if they were still clouded. 'The Angel of
Death was sent against us tonight, but he failed to get us, and
he will never return empty-handed to his dark Kingdom. Mocata
summoned him so Mocata must pay the penalty.'
'Are-are you sure of that?' Simon's jaw dropped suddenly.
'Certain. The age-old law of retaliation cannot fail to
operate. He will be dead before the morning.'
'But-but,' Simon stammered. 'Don't you realise that Mocata
never does these things himself. He throws other people into a
hypnotic trance and makes them do his devilish business for him.
One of the poor wretches who are in his power will have to pay
for this night's work.'
Even as he spoke there came the sound of running footsteps
along the flagstones of the terrace. A rending crash as a heavy
boot landed violently on the woodwork of the french-windows.
They burst open, and framed in them stood no vision but Rex
himself. Haggard, dishevelled, hollow-eyed, his face a ghastly
mask of panic, fear and fury.
He stood there for a moment staring at them as though they
were ghosts. In his arms he held the body of a woman; her fair
hair tumbled across his right arm, and her long silk-stockinged
legs dangled limply from the other.
Suddenly two great tears welled up into his eyes and trickled
slowly down his furrowed cheeks. Then as he laid the body gently
on the floor they saw that it was Tanith, and knew, by her
strange unnatural stillness, that she was dead.
28
Necromancy
'Oh, Rex!' Marie Lou dropped to her knees beside Tanith,
knowing that this must be the girl of whom he had raved to her
that afternoon. 'How awful for you!'
'How did this happen?' the Duke demanded. It was imperative
that he should know at once every move in the enemy's game, and
the urgent note in his voice helped to pull Rex together.
'I hardly know,' he gasped out. 'She got me along because she
was scared stiff of that swine Mocata. I couldn't call you up
this afternoon and later when I tried your line was blocked, but
I had to stay with her. We were going to pass the night together
in the parlour, but around midnight she left me and then-oh,
God! I fell asleep.'
'How long did you sleep for?' asked Richard quickly.
'Several hours, I reckon. I was about all in after yesterday,
but the second I woke I dashed up to her room and she was,
dressed as she is now-lying asleep, I figured-in an armchair. I
tried to wake her but I couldn't. Then I got real scared-
grabbed hold of her-and beat it down those stairs six at a time.
You've just no notion how frantic I was to get out of that place
and next thing I knew-I saw your light and came bursting in
here. She-she's not dead, is she?'
'Oh, Rex, you poor darling,' Marie Lou stammered as she chafed
Tanith's cold hands. 'I-I'm afraid--'
'She isn't-she can't be!' he protested wildly. 'That fiend's
only thrown her into a trance or something.'
Richard had taken a little mirror from Marie Lou's bag. He
held it against Tanith's bloodless lips. No trace of moisture
marred its surface. Then he pressed his hand beneath her breast.
'Her heart's stopped beating,' he said after a moment. 'I'm
sorry, old chap, but-well, I'm afraid you've got to face it.'
'The old-fashioned tests of death are not conclusive,' Simon
whispered to the Duke. 'Scientists say now that even arteries
can be cut and fail to bleed, but life still remains in the
body.
They've all come round to the belief that we're animated by a
sort of atomic energy-call it the soul if you like-and that the
body may retain that vital spark without showing the least sign
of life. Mightn't it be some form of catalepsy like that?'
'Of course,' De Richleau agreed. 'It has been proved time and
again that the senses are only imperfect vessels for collecting
impressions. There is something else which can see when the eyes
are closed and hear while the body is being painlessly cut to
ribbons under an anaesthetic. All the modern experimenters agree
that there are many states in which the body is not wholly alive
or wholly dead, but I fear there is little hope in this case.
You see we know that Mocata used her as his catspaw, so the poor
girl has been forced to pay the price of failure. I haven't a
single doubt that she is dead.'
Rex caught his last words and swung upon him frantically.
'God! this is frightful. I-I tried to kid myself but I think I
knew it the moment I picked her up. Her prophecy's come true
then.' He passed his hand over his eyes. 'I can't quite take it
in yet-this and all of you seem terribly unreal-but is she