Dennis Wheatley
"The Devil Rides Out"
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OCR by Sergey Gazizyanov, gaz@softoffice.ru
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First published by
Hutchinson & Co (Publishers) Ltd 1934
First Arrow edition 1954
Second impression 1958
Third impression 1958
Fourth impression 1959
Fifth impression 1963
Sixth impression 1964
Seventh impression 1965
Eighth impression 1966
Ninth impression 1968
This new edition June 1969
Reprinted November 1969
Reprinted September 1970
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Made and printed in Great
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THE DEVIL RIDES OUT
*
The Devil Rides Out is a
Black Magic story by Dennis
Wheatley, who writes: 'I,
personally, have never
assisted at, or participated
in, any ceremony connected
with Magic-Black or White.
Should any of my readers
incline to a serious study of
the subject and thus come
into contact with a man or
woman of Power, I feel that
it is only right to urge
them, most strongly, to
refrain from being drawn info
the practice of the Secret
Art in any way. My own
observations have led me to
an absolute conviction that
to do so would bring them
into dangers of a very real
and concrete nature.'
Contents
1. The Incomplete Reunion
2. The Curious Guests of Mr. Simon Aron
3. The Esoteric Doctrine
4. The Silent House
5. Embodied Evil
6. The Secret Art
7. De Richleau Plans a Campaign
8. Rex Van Ryn Opens the Attack
9. The Countess D'Urfe Talks of Many Curious Things
10. Tanith Proves Stubborn
11. The Truth Will Always Out
12. The Grim Prophecy
13. The Defeat of Rex Van Ryn
14. The Duke de Richleau Takes the Field
15. The Road to the Sabbat
16. The Sabbat
17. Evil Triumphant
18. The Power of Light
19. The Ancient Sanctuary
20. The Four Horsemen
21. Cardinals Folly
22. The Satanist
23. The Pride of Peacocks
24. The Scepticism of Richard Eaton
25. The Talisman of Set
26. Rex Learns of the Undead
27. Within the Pentacle
28. Necromancy
29. Simon Aron Takes a View
30. Out Into the Fog
31. The Man With the Jagged Ear
32. The Gateway of the Pit
33. Death of a Man Unknown, From Natural Causes
To my old friend
MERVYN BARON
of whom, in these days, I see
far too little but whose
companionship, both in good
times and in bad, has been to
me a never-failing joy.
D.W.
Author's Note
I desire to state that I, personally, have never assisted at,
or participated in, any ceremony connected with Magic-Black or
White.
The literature of occultism is so immense that any
conscientious writer can obtain from it abundant material for the
background of a romance such as this.
In the present case I have spared no pains to secure accuracy
of detail from existing accounts when describing magical rites or
formulas for protection against evil, and these have been verified
in conversation with certain persons, sought out for that purpose
who are actual practitioners of the Art.
All the characters and situations in this book are entirely
imaginary but, in the inquiry necessary to the writing of it, I
found ample evidence that Black Magic is still practised in London,
and other cities, at the present day.
Should any of my readers incline to a serious study of the
subject, and thus come into contact with a man or woman of Power, I
feel that it is only right to urge them, most strongly, to refrain
from being drawn into the practice of the Secret Art in any way. My
own observations have led me to an absolute conviction that to do so
would bring them into dangers of a very real and concrete nature.
Dennis Wheatley
1
The Incomplete Reunion
The Duke de Richleau and Rex Van had gone in to dinner at eight
o'clock, but coffee was not served tilt after ten.
An appetite in keeping with his mighty frame had enabled Van Ryn
to do ample justice to each well-chosen course and, as was his
custom each time the young American arrived in England, the Duke had
produced his finest wines for this, their reunion dinner at his
flat.
A casual observer might well have considered it a strange
friendship, but despite their difference in age and race, appearance
and tradition, a real devotion existed between the two.
Some few years earlier Rex's foolhardiness had landed him in a
Soviet prison, and the elderly French exile had put aside his
peaceful existence as art connoisseur and dilettante to search for
him in Russia. Together they had learned the dangerous secret of
'The Forbidden Territory' and travelled many thousand verts pursued
by the merciless agents of the Ogpu.
There had been others too in that strange adventure; young
Richard Eaton, and the little Princess Marie Lou whom he had
brought out of Russia as his bride; but as Rex accepted a long Hoyo
de Monterrey from the cedar cabinet which the Duke's man presented
to him his thoughts were not of the Eatons, living now so happily
with their little daughter Fleur in their lovely old country home
near Kidderminster. He was thinking of that third companion whose
subtle brain and shy, nervous courage had proved so great an aid
when they were hunted like hares through the length and breadth of
Russia, the frail narrow-shouldered English Jew-Simon Aron.
'What could possibly have kept Simon from being with them
tonight,' Rex was wondering. He had never failed before to make a
third at these reunion dinners, and why had the Duke brushed aside
his inquiries about him in such an offhand manner. There was
something queer behind De Richleau's reticence, and Rex had a
feeling that for all his host's easy charm and bland, witty
conversation something had gone seriously wrong.
He slowly revolved some of the Duke's wonderful old brandy in a
bowl-shaped glass, while he watched the servant preparing to leave
the room. Then, as the door closed, he set it down and addressed De
Richleau almost abruptly.
'Well, I'm thinking it's about time for you to spill the beans.'
The Duke inhaled the first cloud of fragrant smoke from another
of those long Hoyos which were his especial pride, and answered
guardedly. 'Had you not better tell me Rex, to what particular beans
you refer?'
'Simon of course! For years now the three of us have dined
together on my first night, each time I've come across, and you were
too mighty casual to be natural when I asked about him before
dinner. Why isn't he here?'
'Why, indeed, my friend?' the Duke repeated, running the tips of
his fingers down his lean handsome face. 'I asked him, and told him
that your ship docked this morning, but he declined to honour us
tonight.'
'Is he ill then?'
'No, as far as I know he's perfectly well-at all events he was at
his office today.'
'He must have had a date then that he couldn't scrap, or some
mighty urgent work. Nothing less could induce him to let us down on
one of these occasions. They've become-well, in a way, almost sacred
to our friendship.'
'On the contrary he is at home alone tonight. He made his
apologies of course, something about resting for a Bridge Tournament
that starts '
'Bridge Tournament my foot!' exclaimed Rex angrily. 'He'd never
let that interfere between us three-it sounds mighty fishy to me.
When did you see him last?'
'About three months ago.'
'What! But that's incredible. Now look here!' Rex thrust the onyx
ash-tray from in front of him, and leaned across the table. 'You
haven't quarrelled-have you?'
De Richleau shook his head. 'If you were my age, Rex, and had no
children, then met two younger men who gave you their affection, and
had all the attributes you could wish for in your sons, how would it
be possible for you to quarrel with either of them?'
'That's so, but three months is a whale of a while for friends
who are accustomed to meet two or three times a week. I just don't
get this thing at all, and you're being a sight too reticent about
it. Come on now-what do you know?'
The grey eyes of almost piercing brilliance which gave such
character to De Richleau's face, lit up. That,' he said suddenly,
'is just the trouble. I don't know anything.'
'But you fear that, to use his own phrase, Simon's "in a muddle-a
really nasty muddle" eh? And you're a little hurt that he hasn't
brought his worry to you.'
'To whom else should he turn if not to one of us-and you were in
the States.'
'Richard maybe, he's an even older friend of Simon's than we
are.'
'No. I spent last week-end at Cardinals Folly and neither Richard
nor Marie Lou could tell me anything. They haven't seen him since he
went down to stay last Christmas and arrived with a dozen crates of
toys for Fleur.'
'How like him!' Rex's gargantuan laugh rang suddenly through the
room. 'I might have known the trunkful I brought over would be small
fry if you and Simon have been busy on that child.'
'Well I can only conclude that poor Simon is "in a muddle" as you
say, or he would never treat us all like this.'
'But what sort of a muddle?' Rex brought his leg-of mutton fist
crashing down on the table angrily. 'I can't think of a thing where
he wouldn't turn to us.'
'Money,' suggested the Duke, 'is the one thing that with his
queer sensitive nature he might not care to discuss with even his
closest friends.'
'I doubt it being that. My old man has a wonderful opinion of
Simon's financial ability and he handles a big portion of our
interests on this side. I'm pretty sure we'd be wise to it if he'd
burned his fingers on the market. It sounds as if he'd gone bats
about some woman to me.'
De Richleau's face was lit by his faintly cynical smile for a
moment. 'No,' he said slowly. 'A man in love turns naturally to his
friends for congratulation or sympathy as his fortune with a woman
proves good or ill. It can't be that.'
For a little the two friends sat staring at each other in silence
across the low jade bowl with its trailing sprays of orchids: Rex,
giant shouldered, virile and powerful, his ugly, attractive,
humorous young face clouded with anxiety, the Duke, a slim, delicate-
looking man, somewhat about middle height, with slender, fragile
hands and greying hair, but with no trace of weakness in his fine,
distinguished face. His aquiline nose, broad forehead and grey
'devil's' eyebrows might well have replaced those of the cavalier in
the Van Dyck that gazed down from the opposite wall. Instead of the
conventional black, he wore a claret coloured vicuna smoking suit,
with silk lapels and braided fastenings; this touch of colour
increased his likeness to the portrait. He broke the silence
suddenly.
'Have you by any chance ever heard of a Mr. Mocata, Rex?'
'Nope. Who is he anyway?'
'A new friend of Simon's who has been staying with him these last
few months.'
'What-at his Club?'
'No-no, Simon no longer lives at his Club. I thought you knew. He
bought a house last February, a big, rambling old place tucked away
at the end of a cul-de-sac off one of those quiet residential
streets in St. John's Wood.'
'Why, that's right out past Regent's Park-isn't it? What's he
want with a place out there when there are any number of nice little
houses to let in Mayfair?'
'Another mystery, my friend.' The Duke's thin lips creased into a
smile. 'He said he wanted a garden, that's all I can tell you.'
'Simon! A garden!' Rex chuckled. 'That's a good story I'll say.
Simon doesn't know a geranium from a fuchsia. His botany is limited
to an outsized florist's bill for bunching his women friends from
shops, and why should a bachelor like Simon start running a big
house at all?'
'Perhaps Mr. Mocata could tell you,' murmured De Richleau mildly,
'or the queer servant that he has imported,'
'Have you ever seen this bird-Mocata I mean?'
'Yes, I called one evening about six weeks ago. Simon was out so
Mocata received me.'
'And what did you make of him?'
'I disliked him intensely. He's a pot-bellied, bald-headed person
of about sixty, with large, protuberant, fishy eyes, limp hands, and
a most unattractive lisp. He reminded me of a large white slug.'
'What about this servant that you mention?'
'I only saw him for a moment when he crossed the hall, but he
reminded me in a most unpleasant way of the Bogey Man with whom I
used to be threatened in my infancy.'
'Why, is he a black?'
'Yes. A Malagasy I should think.'
Rex frowned. 'Now what in heck is that?'
'A native of Madagascar. They are a curious people, half-Negro
and half-Polynesian. This great brute stands about six foot eight,
and the one glimpse I had of his eyes made me want to shoot him on
sight. He's a "bad black" if ever I saw one, and I've travelled, as
you know, in my time.'
'Do you know any more about these people?' asked Rex grimly.
'Not a thing.'
'Well, I'm not given to worry, but I've heard quite enough to get
me scared for Simon. He's in some jam or he'd never be housing
people like that.'
The Duke gently laid the long, blue-grey ash of his cigar in the
onyx ash-tray. 'There is not a doubt,' he said slowly, 'that Simon
is involved in some very queer business, but I have been stifling my
anxiety until your arrival. You see I wanted to hear your views
before taking the very exceptional step of -yes butting in-is the
expression, on the private affairs of even so intimate a friend. The
question is now-what are we to do?'
'Do!' Rex thrust back his chair and drew himself up to his full
magnificent height. 'We're going up to that house to have a little
heart-to-heart talk with Simon-right now!'
'I'm glad,' said De Richleau quietly, 'you feel like that, be
cause I ordered the car for half past ten. Shall we go?'
2
The Curious Guests of Mr. Simon Aron
As De Richleau's Hispano drew up at the dead end of the dark cul-
de-sac in St. John's Wood, Rex slipped out of the car and looked
about him. They were shut in by the high walls of neighbouring
gardens and, above a blank expanse of brick in which a single,
narrow door was visible, the upper stones of Simon's house showed
vague and mysterious among whispering trees.
'Ugh!' he exclaimed with a little shudder as a few drops splashed
upon his face from the dark branches overhead. 'What a dismal
hole-we might be in a graveyard.'
The Duke pressed the bell, and turning up the sable collar of his
coat against a slight drizzle which made the April night seem chill
and friendless, stepped back to get a better view of the premises.
'Hello! Simon's got an observatory here,' he remarked. 'I didn't
notice that on my previous visit.'
'So he has.' Rex followed De Richleau's glance to a dome that
crowned the house, but at that moment an electric globe suddenly
flared into life about their heads, and the door in the wall swung
open disclosing a sallow-faced manservant in dark livery.
'Mr. Simon Aron?' inquired De Richleau, but the man was already
motioning them to enter, so they followed him up a short covered
path and the door in the wall clanged to behind them,
The vestibule of the house was dimly lit, but Rex, who never wore
a coat or hat in the evening, noticed that two sets of outdoor
apparel lay, neatly folded, on a long console table as the silent
footman relieved De Richleau of his wraps. Evidently friend Simon
had other visitors.
'Maybe Mr. Aron's in conference and won't want to be disturbed,'
he said to the sallow-faced servant with a sudden feeling of guilt
at their intrusion. Perhaps, after all, their fears for Simon were
quite groundless and his neglect only due to a prolonged period of
intense activity on the markets, but the man only bowed and led them
across the hall.
'The fellow's a mute,' whispered the Duke. 'Deaf and dumb I'm
certain,' As he spoke the servant flung open a couple of large
double doors and stood waiting for them to enter.
A long, narrow room, opening into a wide salon, stretched before
them. Both were decorated in the lavish magnificence of the Louis
Seize period, but for the moment the dazzling brilliance of the
lighting prevented them taking in the details of the parquet floors,
the crystal mirrors, the gilded furniture and beautifully wrought
tapestries.
Rex was the first to recover and with a quick intake of breath he
clutched De Richleau's arm. 'By Jove she's here!' he muttered almost
inaudibly, his eyes riveted on a tall, graceful girl who stood some
yards away at tbe entrance of the salon talking to Simon.
Three times in the last eighteen months he had chanced upon that
strange, wise, beautiful face, with the deep eyes beneath heavy lids
that seemed so full of secrets and gave the lovely face a curiously
ageless look-so that despite her apparent youth she was as old
as-'Yes, as old as sin,' Rex caught himself thinking.
He had seen her first in a restaurant in Budapest; months later
again, in a traffic jam when his car was wedged beside hers in New
York, and then, strangely enough, riding along a road with three
men, in the country ten miles outside Buenos Aires. How
extraordinary that he should find her here-and what luck. He smiled
quickly at the thought that Simon could not fail to introduce him.
De Richleau's glance was riveted upon their friend. With an
abrupt movement Simon turned towards them. For a second he seemed
completely at a loss, his full, sensual mouth hung open to twice its
normal extent and his receding jaw almost disappeared behind his
white tie, while his dark eyes were filled with amazement and
something suspiciously like fear, but he recovered almost instantly
and his old smile flashed out as he came forward to greet them.
'My dear Simon,' the Duke's voice was a silken purr. 'How can we
apologise for breaking in on you like this?'
'Sure, we hadn't a notion you were throwing a party,' boomed
Rex, his glance following the girl who had moved off to join
another woman and three men who were talking together in the inner
room.
'But I'm delighted,' murmured Simon genially. 'Delighted to see
you both-only got a few friends-meeting of a little society I belong
to-that's all.'
Then we couldn't dream of interrupting you, could we Rex?' De
Richleau demurred with well-assumed innocence.
'Why, certainly not, we wouldn't even have come in if that
servant of yours hadn't taken us for some other folks you're
expecting.' But despite their apparent unwillingness to intrude,
neither of the two made any gesture of withdrawal and, mentally, De
Richleau gave Simon full marks for the way in which he accepted
their obviously unwelcome presence.
'I'm most terribly sorry about dinner to-night,' he was pro
claiming earnestly. 'Meant to rest for my bridge, I simply have to
these days, to be any good-even forgot till six o'clock that I had
these people coming.'
'How fortunate for you Simon that your larder is so well
stocked.' The Duke could not resist the gentle dig as his glance
fell on a long buffet spread with a collation which would have
rivalled the cold table in any great hotel.
'I 'phoned Ferraro,' parried Simon glibly. "The Berkeley never
lets me down. Would have asked you to drop in, but er-with this
meeting on I felt you'd be bored.'
'Bored! Not a bit, but we are keeping you from your other
guests.' With an airy gesture De Richleau waved his hand in the
direction of the inner room.
'Sure,' agreed Rex heartily, as he laid a large hand on Simon's
arm and gently propelled him towards the salon. 'Don't you worry
about us, we'll just take a glass of wine off you and fade away.'
His eyes were fixed again on the pale oval face of the girl.
Simon's glance flickered swiftly towards the Duke, who ignored,
with a guileless smile, his obvious reluctance for them to meet his
other friends, and noted with amusement that he avoided any proper
introduction.
'Er-er-two very old friends of mine,' he said, with his little
nervous cough as he interchanged a swift look with a fleshy, moon-
faced man whom De Richleau knew to be Mocata.
'Well, well, how nice,' the bald man lisped with unsmiling eyes.
'It is a pleasure always to welcome any friends of Simon's.'
De Richleau gave him a frigid bow and thought of reminding him
coldly that Simon's welcome was sufficient in his own house, but for
the moment it was policy to hide his antagonism so he replied
politely that Mocata was most kind, then, with the ease which
characterised all his movements, he turned his attention to an
elderly lady who was seated near by.
She was a woman of advanced age but fine presence, richly dressed
and almost weighed down with heavy jewellery. Between her fingers
she held the stub of a fat cigar at which she was puffing
vigorously.
'Madame.' The Duke drew a case containing the long Hoyos from his
pocket and bent towards her. 'Your cigar is almost finished, permit
me to offer you one of mine.'
She regarded him for a moment with piercingly bright eyes, then
stretched out a fat, beringed hand. 'Sank you, Monsieur, I see you
are a connoisseur.' With her beaked, parrot nose she sniffed at the
cigar appreciatively. 'But I have not seen you at our other
meetings, what ees your name?'
'De Richleau, Madame, and yours?'
'De Richleau I a maestro indeed.' She nodded heavily. 'Je suis
Madame D'Urfe, you will 'ave heard of me.'
'But certainly.' The Duke bowed again. 'Do you think we shall
have a good meeting tonight?'
'If the sky clears we should learn much,' answered the old lady
cryptically.
'Ho! Ho!' thought the Duke. 'We are about to make use of Simon's
observatory it seems. Good, let us learn more.' But before he could
pump the elderly Frenchwoman further, Simon deftly interrupted the
conversation and drew him away.
'So you have taken up the study of the stars, my friend,'
remarked the Duke as his host led him to the buffet.
'Oh, er-yes. Find astronomy very interesting, you know. Have some
caviare?' Simon's eyes flickered anxiously towards Rex, who was deep
in conversation with the girl.
As he admired her burnished hair and slumbrous eyes, for a moment
the Duke was reminded of a Botticelli painting. She had, he thought,
that angel look with nothing Christian in it peculiar to women born
out of their time, the golden virgin to the outward eye whose veins
were filled with unlit fire. A rare cinquecento type who should have
lived in the Italy of the Borgias. Then he turned again to Simon.
'It was because of the observatory then that you acquired this
house, I suppose?'
'Yes. You must come up one night and we'll watch a few stars
together.' Something of the old warmth had crept into Simon's tone
and he was obviously in earnest as he offered the invitation, but
the Duke was not deceived into believing that he was welcome on the
present occasion.
'Thank you, I should enjoy that,' he said promptly, while over
Simon's shoulder he studied the other two men who made up the party.
One, a tall, fair fellow, stood talking to Mocata. His thin, flaxen
hair brushed flatly back, and whose queer, light eyes proclaimed him
an Albino; the other, a stout man dressed in a green plaid and
ginger kilt, was walking softly up and down with his hands clasped
behind his back, muttering to himself inaudibly. His wild, flowing
white hair and curious costume suggested an Irish bard.
'Altogether a most unprepossessing lot,' thought the Duke, and
his opinion was not improved by three new arrivals. A grave-faced
Chinaman wearing the robes of a Mandarin, whose slit eyes betrayed a
cold, merciless nature: a Eurasian with only one arm, the left, and
a tall, thin woman with a scraggy throat and beetling eyebrows which
met across the bridge of her nose.
Mocata received them as though he were the host, but as the tall
woman bore down on Simon he promptly left the Duke, who guessed that
the move was to get out of earshot. However, the lady's greeting in
a high-pitched Middle Western accent came clearly to him.
'Waal, Simon, all excitement about what we'll learn tonight? It
should help a heap, this being your natal conjunction.'
'Ha! Ha!' said De Richleau to himself. 'Now I begin to understand
a little and I like this party even less,' Then, with the idea of
trying to verify his surmise, he turned towards the one-armed
Eurasian, but Simon-apparently guessing his intention-quickly
excused himself to the American woman, and cut off the Duke's
advance.
'So, my young friend,' thought De Richleau, 'you mean to prevent
me from obtaining any further information about this strange
gathering, do you? Ail right! I'll twist your tail a little,' and he
remarked sweetly:
'Did you say that you were interested in Astronomy or Astrology,
Simon? There is a distinct difference you know.'
'Oh, Astronomy, of course.' Simon ran a finger down his long,
beak-like nose. 'It is nice to see you again-have some more
champagne?'
'Thank you, no, later perhaps.' The Duke smothered a smile as he
caught Mocata, who had overheard him, exchange a quick look with
Simon.
'Wish this were an ordinary meeting,' Simon said, a moment later,
with an uneasy frown. Then I'd ask you to stay, but we're going
through the Society's annual balance-sheet tonight -and you and Rex
not being members you know . . .'
'Quite, quite, my dear fellow, of course,' De Richleau agreed
amicably, while to himself he thought, That's a nasty fence young
sly-boots has put up for me, but I'll be damned if I go before I
find out for certain what I came for.' Then he added in a cheerful
whisper: 'I should have gone before but Rex seems so interested in
the young woman in green, I want to give him as long as possible.'
'My dear chap,' Simon protested, 'I feel horribly embarrassed at
having to ask you to go at all.'
A fat, oily-looking Babu in a salmon-pink turban and gown had
just arrived and was shaking hands with Mocata; behind him came a
red-faced Teuton, who suffered the deformity of a hare lip.
Simon stepped quickly forward again as the two advanced, but De
Richleau once more caught the first words which were snuffled out by
the hare-lipped man.
'Well, Abraham, wie geht es?' then there came the fulsome chuckle
of the fleshy Indian. 'You must not call him that, it is unlucky to
do so before the great night.'
The devil it is!' muttered the Duke to himself, but Simon had
left the other two with almost indecent haste in order to rejoin
him, so he said with a smile: 'I gather you are about to execute
Deed Poll, my friend?'
'Eh!' Simon exclaimed with a slight start.
To change your name,' De Richleau supplemented.
'Ner.' He shook his head rapidly as he uttered the curious
negative that he often used. It came of his saying 'No' without
troubling to close the lips of his full mouth. 'Ner-that's only a
sort of joke we have between us-a sort of initiation ceremony-I'm
not a full member yet.'
'I see, then you have ceremonies in your Astronomical Society-how
interesting!'
As he spoke De Richleau, out of the corner of his eye, saw Mocata
make a quick sign to Simon and then glance at the ormolu clock on
the mantelpiece; so to save his host the awkwardness of having
actually to request his departure, he exclaimed: 'Dear mel Twenty
past eleven, I had no idea it was so late. I must drag Rex away from
that lovely lady after all, I fear.'
'Well, if you must go.' Simon looked embarrassed and worried, but
catching Mocata's eye again, he promptly led the way over to his
other unwelcome guest.
Rex gave a happy grin as they came up. This is marvellous Simon.
I've been getting glimpses of this lady in different continents
these two years past, and she seems to recall having seen me too.
It's just great that we should become acquainted at last through
you.' Then he smiled quickly at the girl: 'May I present my friend
De Richfeau? Duke, this is Miss Tanith.'
De Richleau bent over her long, almost transparent hand and
raised it to his lips. 'How unfortunate I am,' he said with old-
fashioned gallantry, 'to be presented to you only in time to say
good-bye, and perhaps gain your displeasure by taking your new
friend with me as well.'
'But,' she regarded him steadily out of large, clear, amber eyes.
Surely you do not depart before the ceremony?'
'I fear we must. We are not members of your er-Circle you see,
only old friends of Simon's.'
A strange look of annoyance and uncertainty crept into her
glance, and the Duke guessed that she was searching her mind for any
indiscretions she might have committed in her conversation with Rex.
Then she shrugged lightly and, with a brief inclination of the head
which dismissed them both, turned coldly away.
The Duke took Simon's arm affectionately, as the three friends
left the salon. 'I wonder,' he said persuasively, 'if you could
spare me just two minutes before we go-no more I promise you.'
'Rather, of course.' Simon seemed now to have regained his old
joviality. 'I'll never forgive myself for missing your dinner
tonight-this wretched meeting-and I've seen nothing of you for
weeks. Now Rex is over we must throw a party together.'
'We will, we will,' De Richleau agreed heartily, 'but listen; is
not Mars in conjunction with Venus tonight?'
'Ner,' Simon replied promptly. 'With Saturn, that's what they've
all come to see.'
'Ah, Saturn! My Astronomy is so rusty, but I saw some mention of
it in the paper yesterday, and at one time I was a keen student of
the Stars. Would it be asking too much my dear fellow, to have just
one peep at it through your telescope? We should hardly delay your
meeting for five minutes.'
Simon's hesitation was barely perceptible before he nodded his
bird-like head with vigorous assent. 'Um, that's all right- they
haven't all arrived yet-let's go up.' Then, with his hands thrust
deep in the trouser pockets of his exceedingly well-cut dress suit,
he led them hurriedly through the hall and up three flights of
stairs.'
De Richleau followed more slowly. Stairs were the one thing which
ruffled his otherwise equable temper and he had no desire to lose it
now. By the time he arrived in the lofty chamber, with Rex behind
him, Simon had all the lights switched on.
'Well you've certainly gone in for it properly,' Rex remarked as
he surveyed the powerful telescope slanting to the roof and a whole
arsenal of sextants, spheres and other astrological impedimenta
ranged about the room.
'It's rather an exact science you see,' Simon volunteered.
'Quite,' agreed the Duke briefly. 'But I wonder, a little, that
you should consider charts of the Macrocosm necessary to your
studies.
'Oh, those!' Simon shrugged his narrow shoulders as he glanced
around the walls. 'They're only for fun-relics of the Alchemistic
nonsense in the Middle Ages, but quite suitable for decoration.'
'How clever of you to carry out your scheme of decoration on the
floor as well.' The Duke was thoughtfully regarding a five-pointed
star enclosed within two circles between which numerous mystic
characters in Greek and Hebrew had been carefully drawn.
'Yes, good idea, wasn't it?' Simon tittered into his hand. It was
the familiar gesture which both his friends knew so well, yet
somehow his chuckle had not quite its usual ring.
The silence that followed was a little awkward and in it, all
three plainly heard a muffled scratching noise that seemed to come
from a large wicker basket placed against the wall.
'You've got mice here, Simon,' said Rex casually, but De Richleau
had stiffened where he stood. Then, before Simon could bar his way,
he leapt towards the hamper and ripped open the lid.
'Stop that!' cried Simon angrily, and dashing forward he forced
it shut again, but too late, for within the basket the Duke had seen
two living pinioned fowls-a black cock and a white hen.
With a sudden access of bitter fury he turned on Simon, and
seizing him by his silk lapels, shook him as a terrier shakes a rat.
'You fool,' he thundered. 'I'd rather see you dead than monkeying
with Black Magic.'
3
The Esoteric Doctrine
'Take-take your hands off me,' Simon gasped.
His dark eyes blazed in a face that had gone deathly white and
only a superhuman effort enabled him to keep his clenched fists
pressed to his sides.
In another second he would have hit the Duke, but Rex, a head
taller than either of them, laid a mighty hand on the shoulder of
each and forced them apart.
'Have a heart now, just what is all this?' His quiet, familiar
voice, with its faint American intonation, sobered the others
immediately and De Richleau, swinging on his heel, strode to the
other side of the observatory, where he stood for a moment, with his
back towards them, regaining control of his emotions.
Simon, panting a little, gave a quick, nervous wriggle of his
bird-like head and smoothed out the lapels of his evening coat.
'Now-I'll tell you,' he said jerkily, 'I never asked either of
you to come here tonight, and even my oldest friends have no right
to butt in on my private-affairs. I think you'd better go.'
The Duke turned, passing one hand over his greying hair. All
trace of his astonishing outburst had disappeared and he was once
more the handsome, distinguished figure that they knew so well.
'I'm sorry, Simon,' he said gravely. 'But I felt as a father
might who sees his child trying to pick live coals out of the fire.'
'I'm not a child,' muttered Simon, sullenly.
'No, but I could not have more affection for you if you were
actually my son, and it is useless now to deny that you are playing
the most dangerous game which has ever been known to mankind
throughout the ages.'
'Oh, come,' a quick smile spread over Rex's ugly, attractive
face. 'That's a gross exaggeration. What's the harm if Simon wants
to try out a few old parlour games?'
'Parlour games!' De Richleau took him up sharply. 'My dear Rex, I
fear your prowess in aeroplanes and racing cars hardly qualifies you
to judge the soul destroying powers of these ancient cults.'
'Thanks. I'm not quite a half-wit, and plenty of spiritualistic
seances take place in the States, but I've never heard of anyone as
sane as Simon going bats because of them yet.'
Simon nodded his narrow head slowly up and down. 'Of course-Rex
is right, and you're only making a mountain out of a molehill.'
'As you like,' De Richleau shrugged. 'In that case will you
permit us to stay and participate in your operations tonight?'
'Ner-I'm sorry, but you're not a member of our Circle.'
'No matter. We have already met most of your friends downstairs,
surely they will not object to our presence on just this one
occasion?'
'Ner.' Simon shook his head again. 'Our number is made up.'
'I see, you are already thirteen, is that it? Now listen, Simon.'
The Duke laid his hands gently on the young Jew's shoulders. 'One of
the reasons why my friendship with Rex and yourself has developed
into such a splendid intimacy, is because I have always refrained
from stressing my age and greater experience, but tonight I break
the rule. My conscious life, since we both left our schools, has
been nearly three times as long as yours and, in addition, although
I have never told you of it, I made a deep study of these esoteric
doctrines years ago when I lived in the East. I beg of you, as I
have never begged for anything in my life before, that you should
give up whatever quest you are engaged upon and leave this house
with us immediately.'
For a moment Simon seemed to waver. All his faith in De
Richleau's judgment, knowledge, and love for him, urged him to
agree, but at that moment Mocata's musical lisping voice cut in upon
the silence, calling from the landing just below:
'Simon, the others have come. It is time.'
'Coming,' called Simon, then he looked at the two friends with
whom he had risked his life in the 'Forbidden Territory.' 'I can't,'
he said with an effort, 'You heard-it's too late to back out now.'
'Then let us remain-please,' begged the Duke.
'No, I'm sorry.' A new firmness had crept into Simon's tone, 'but
I must ask you to go now.'
'Very well.'
De Richleau stepped forward as though to shake hands then, with
almost incredible swiftness, his arm flew back and next second his
fist caught Simon a smashing blow full beneath the jaw.
The action was so sudden, so unexpected, that Simon was caught
completely off his guard. For a fraction of time he was lifted from
his feet, then he crashed senseless on his back and slid spread-
eagled across the polished floor.
'Have you gone crazy?' ejaculated Rex.
'No-we've got to get him out of here-save him from himself-don't
argue! Quick!' Already De Richleau was kneeling by the crumpled body
of his friend.
Rex needed no further urging. He had been in too many tight
corners with the Duke to doubt the wisdom of his decisions however
strange his actions might appear. In one quick heave he dragged
Simon's limp form across his shoulders arid started for the stairs.
'Steady!' ordered the Duke. 'I'll go first and tackle anyone who
tries to stop us. You get him to the car-Understoood?'
'What if they raise the house? You'll never be able to tackle the
whole bunch on your own?'
'In that case drop him, I'll get him out somehow, while you
protect my rear. Come on!'
With De Richleau leading they crept down the first flight of
stairs. On the landing he paused and peered cautiously over the
banisters. No sound came from below. 'Rex,' he whispered.
'Yep.'
'If that black servant I told you of appears, for God's sake
don't look at his eyes. Watch his hands and hit him in the belly.'
'O.K.'
A moment later they were down the second flight. The hall
was empty and only a vague murmur of conversation came to them
from behind the double doors that led to the salon.
'Quick!' urged the Duke. 'Mocata may come out to look for him any
moment,'
'Right.' Rex, bent double beneath his burden, plunged down the
last stairs, and De Richleau was already halfway across the half
when the dumb servant suddenly appeared from the vestibule.
For a second he stood there, his sallow face a mask of blank
surprise then, side-stepping the Duke with the agility of a rugby
forward, he lowered his bullet head and charged Rex with silent
animal ferocity.
'Got you,' snapped De Richleau, for although the man had dodged
with lightning speed he had caught his wrist in passing. Then
flinging his whole weight upon it as he turned, he jerked the fellow
clean off his feet and sent him spinning head foremost against the
wall.
As his head hit the panelling the mute gave an uncouth grunt, and
rolled over on the floor, but he staggered up again and dashed
towards the salon. Rex and the Duke were already pounding down the
tiled path and in another second they had flung themselves into the
lane through the entrance in the garden wall.
'Thank God,' gasped the Duke as he wrenched open the door of the
Hispano. 'I believe that hellish crew would have killed us rather
than let us get Simon out of there alive.'
'Well, I suppose you do know what you're at,' Rex muttered as he
propped Simon up on the back seat of the car. 'But I'm not certain
you're safe to be with.'
'Home,' ordered De Richleau curtly to the footman, who was hiding
his astonishment at their sudden exit by hastily tucking the rug
over their knees. Then he smiled at Rex a trifle grimly. 'I suppose
I do seem a little mad to you, but you can't possibly be expected to
appreciate what a horribly serious business this is. I'll explain
later.'
In a few moments they had left the gloom of the quiet streets
behind and were once more running through well-lit ways towards
Mayfair, but Simon was still unconscious when they pulled up in
Curzon Street before Errol House.
'I'll take him,' volunteered Rex. The less the servants have to
do with this the better,' and picking up Simon in his strong arms as
though he had been a baby, he carried him straight upstairs to the
first floor where De Richleau's flat was situated.
'Put him in the library,' said the Duke, who had paused to murmur
something about a sudden illness to the porter, when he arrived on
the landing a moment later. 'I'll get something to bring him round
from the bathroom.'
Rex nodded obediently, and carried Simon into that room in the
Curzon Street fiat which was so memorable for those who had been
privileged to visit it, not so much on account of its size and
decorations, but for the unique collection of rare and beautiful
objects which it contained. A Tibetan Buddha seated upon the Lotus;
bronze figurines from ancient Greece; beautifully chased rapiers of
Toledo steel, and Moorish pistols inlaid with turquoise and gold;
ikons from Holy Russia set with semi-precious stones and curiously
carved ivories from the East.
As Rex laid Simon upon the wide sofa he glanced round him with an
interest unappeased by a hundred visits, at the walls lined shoulder
high with beautifully bound books, and at the lovely old colour
prints, interspersed with priceless historical documents and maps,
which hung above them.
De Richleau, when he joined him, produced a small crystal bottle
which he held beneath Simon's beak-like nose. 'No good trying to
talk to him tonight,' he remarked, 'but I want to bring him round
sufficiently to put him to sleep again.
Rex grunted. That sounds like double-dutch to me.'
'No. I mean to fight these devils with their own weapons, as you
will see.'
Simon groaned a little, and as his eyes flickered open the Duke
took a small round mirror from his pocket. 'Simon,' he said softly,
moving the lamp a little nearer, 'look upward at my hand.'
As he spoke De Richleau held the mirror about eighteen inches
from Simon's forehead and a little above the level of his eyes, so
that it caught and reflected the light of the lamp on to his lids.
'Hold it lower,' suggested Rex. 'He'll strain his eyes turning
them upwards like that.'
'Quiet,' said the Duke sharply. 'Simon, look up and listen to me.
You have been hurt and have a troubled mind, but your friends are
with you and you have no need to worry any more.'
Simon opened his eyes again and turned them upwards to the
mirror, where they remained fixed.
'I am going to send you to sleep, Simon,' De Richleau went on
softly. 'You need rest and you will awake free from pain. In a
moment your eyes will close and then your head will feel better.'
For another half-minute he held the mirror steadily reflecting
the light upon Simon's retina, then he placed the first and second
fingers of his free hand upon the glass with his palm turned outward
and made a slow pass from it towards the staring eyes, which closed
at once before he touched them.
'You will sleep now,' he continued quietly, 'and you will not
wake until ten o'clock tomorrow morning. Directly you awake you will
"The Devil Rides Out"
-------------------------------------------
OCR by Sergey Gazizyanov, gaz@softoffice.ru
-------------------------------------------
ARROW BOOKS
ARROW BOOKS LTD
178-202 Great Portland Street, London WI
AN IMPRINT OF THE HUTCHINSON GROUP
London Melbourne Sydney
Auckland Johannesburg Cape Town
and agencies throughout the world
*
First published by
Hutchinson & Co (Publishers) Ltd 1934
First Arrow edition 1954
Second impression 1958
Third impression 1958
Fourth impression 1959
Fifth impression 1963
Sixth impression 1964
Seventh impression 1965
Eighth impression 1966
Ninth impression 1968
This new edition June 1969
Reprinted November 1969
Reprinted September 1970
This book is published at a net price and
supplied subject to the Publishers Association
Standard Condition of Sale registered under
The Restrictive Trade Practices Act 1956
Made and printed in Great
Britain by
Hunt Barnard Printing Ltd.,
Aylesbury, Bucks
THE DEVIL RIDES OUT
*
The Devil Rides Out is a
Black Magic story by Dennis
Wheatley, who writes: 'I,
personally, have never
assisted at, or participated
in, any ceremony connected
with Magic-Black or White.
Should any of my readers
incline to a serious study of
the subject and thus come
into contact with a man or
woman of Power, I feel that
it is only right to urge
them, most strongly, to
refrain from being drawn info
the practice of the Secret
Art in any way. My own
observations have led me to
an absolute conviction that
to do so would bring them
into dangers of a very real
and concrete nature.'
Contents
1. The Incomplete Reunion
2. The Curious Guests of Mr. Simon Aron
3. The Esoteric Doctrine
4. The Silent House
5. Embodied Evil
6. The Secret Art
7. De Richleau Plans a Campaign
8. Rex Van Ryn Opens the Attack
9. The Countess D'Urfe Talks of Many Curious Things
10. Tanith Proves Stubborn
11. The Truth Will Always Out
12. The Grim Prophecy
13. The Defeat of Rex Van Ryn
14. The Duke de Richleau Takes the Field
15. The Road to the Sabbat
16. The Sabbat
17. Evil Triumphant
18. The Power of Light
19. The Ancient Sanctuary
20. The Four Horsemen
21. Cardinals Folly
22. The Satanist
23. The Pride of Peacocks
24. The Scepticism of Richard Eaton
25. The Talisman of Set
26. Rex Learns of the Undead
27. Within the Pentacle
28. Necromancy
29. Simon Aron Takes a View
30. Out Into the Fog
31. The Man With the Jagged Ear
32. The Gateway of the Pit
33. Death of a Man Unknown, From Natural Causes
To my old friend
MERVYN BARON
of whom, in these days, I see
far too little but whose
companionship, both in good
times and in bad, has been to
me a never-failing joy.
D.W.
Author's Note
I desire to state that I, personally, have never assisted at,
or participated in, any ceremony connected with Magic-Black or
White.
The literature of occultism is so immense that any
conscientious writer can obtain from it abundant material for the
background of a romance such as this.
In the present case I have spared no pains to secure accuracy
of detail from existing accounts when describing magical rites or
formulas for protection against evil, and these have been verified
in conversation with certain persons, sought out for that purpose
who are actual practitioners of the Art.
All the characters and situations in this book are entirely
imaginary but, in the inquiry necessary to the writing of it, I
found ample evidence that Black Magic is still practised in London,
and other cities, at the present day.
Should any of my readers incline to a serious study of the
subject, and thus come into contact with a man or woman of Power, I
feel that it is only right to urge them, most strongly, to refrain
from being drawn into the practice of the Secret Art in any way. My
own observations have led me to an absolute conviction that to do so
would bring them into dangers of a very real and concrete nature.
Dennis Wheatley
1
The Incomplete Reunion
The Duke de Richleau and Rex Van had gone in to dinner at eight
o'clock, but coffee was not served tilt after ten.
An appetite in keeping with his mighty frame had enabled Van Ryn
to do ample justice to each well-chosen course and, as was his
custom each time the young American arrived in England, the Duke had
produced his finest wines for this, their reunion dinner at his
flat.
A casual observer might well have considered it a strange
friendship, but despite their difference in age and race, appearance
and tradition, a real devotion existed between the two.
Some few years earlier Rex's foolhardiness had landed him in a
Soviet prison, and the elderly French exile had put aside his
peaceful existence as art connoisseur and dilettante to search for
him in Russia. Together they had learned the dangerous secret of
'The Forbidden Territory' and travelled many thousand verts pursued
by the merciless agents of the Ogpu.
There had been others too in that strange adventure; young
Richard Eaton, and the little Princess Marie Lou whom he had
brought out of Russia as his bride; but as Rex accepted a long Hoyo
de Monterrey from the cedar cabinet which the Duke's man presented
to him his thoughts were not of the Eatons, living now so happily
with their little daughter Fleur in their lovely old country home
near Kidderminster. He was thinking of that third companion whose
subtle brain and shy, nervous courage had proved so great an aid
when they were hunted like hares through the length and breadth of
Russia, the frail narrow-shouldered English Jew-Simon Aron.
'What could possibly have kept Simon from being with them
tonight,' Rex was wondering. He had never failed before to make a
third at these reunion dinners, and why had the Duke brushed aside
his inquiries about him in such an offhand manner. There was
something queer behind De Richleau's reticence, and Rex had a
feeling that for all his host's easy charm and bland, witty
conversation something had gone seriously wrong.
He slowly revolved some of the Duke's wonderful old brandy in a
bowl-shaped glass, while he watched the servant preparing to leave
the room. Then, as the door closed, he set it down and addressed De
Richleau almost abruptly.
'Well, I'm thinking it's about time for you to spill the beans.'
The Duke inhaled the first cloud of fragrant smoke from another
of those long Hoyos which were his especial pride, and answered
guardedly. 'Had you not better tell me Rex, to what particular beans
you refer?'
'Simon of course! For years now the three of us have dined
together on my first night, each time I've come across, and you were
too mighty casual to be natural when I asked about him before
dinner. Why isn't he here?'
'Why, indeed, my friend?' the Duke repeated, running the tips of
his fingers down his lean handsome face. 'I asked him, and told him
that your ship docked this morning, but he declined to honour us
tonight.'
'Is he ill then?'
'No, as far as I know he's perfectly well-at all events he was at
his office today.'
'He must have had a date then that he couldn't scrap, or some
mighty urgent work. Nothing less could induce him to let us down on
one of these occasions. They've become-well, in a way, almost sacred
to our friendship.'
'On the contrary he is at home alone tonight. He made his
apologies of course, something about resting for a Bridge Tournament
that starts '
'Bridge Tournament my foot!' exclaimed Rex angrily. 'He'd never
let that interfere between us three-it sounds mighty fishy to me.
When did you see him last?'
'About three months ago.'
'What! But that's incredible. Now look here!' Rex thrust the onyx
ash-tray from in front of him, and leaned across the table. 'You
haven't quarrelled-have you?'
De Richleau shook his head. 'If you were my age, Rex, and had no
children, then met two younger men who gave you their affection, and
had all the attributes you could wish for in your sons, how would it
be possible for you to quarrel with either of them?'
'That's so, but three months is a whale of a while for friends
who are accustomed to meet two or three times a week. I just don't
get this thing at all, and you're being a sight too reticent about
it. Come on now-what do you know?'
The grey eyes of almost piercing brilliance which gave such
character to De Richleau's face, lit up. That,' he said suddenly,
'is just the trouble. I don't know anything.'
'But you fear that, to use his own phrase, Simon's "in a muddle-a
really nasty muddle" eh? And you're a little hurt that he hasn't
brought his worry to you.'
'To whom else should he turn if not to one of us-and you were in
the States.'
'Richard maybe, he's an even older friend of Simon's than we
are.'
'No. I spent last week-end at Cardinals Folly and neither Richard
nor Marie Lou could tell me anything. They haven't seen him since he
went down to stay last Christmas and arrived with a dozen crates of
toys for Fleur.'
'How like him!' Rex's gargantuan laugh rang suddenly through the
room. 'I might have known the trunkful I brought over would be small
fry if you and Simon have been busy on that child.'
'Well I can only conclude that poor Simon is "in a muddle" as you
say, or he would never treat us all like this.'
'But what sort of a muddle?' Rex brought his leg-of mutton fist
crashing down on the table angrily. 'I can't think of a thing where
he wouldn't turn to us.'
'Money,' suggested the Duke, 'is the one thing that with his
queer sensitive nature he might not care to discuss with even his
closest friends.'
'I doubt it being that. My old man has a wonderful opinion of
Simon's financial ability and he handles a big portion of our
interests on this side. I'm pretty sure we'd be wise to it if he'd
burned his fingers on the market. It sounds as if he'd gone bats
about some woman to me.'
De Richleau's face was lit by his faintly cynical smile for a
moment. 'No,' he said slowly. 'A man in love turns naturally to his
friends for congratulation or sympathy as his fortune with a woman
proves good or ill. It can't be that.'
For a little the two friends sat staring at each other in silence
across the low jade bowl with its trailing sprays of orchids: Rex,
giant shouldered, virile and powerful, his ugly, attractive,
humorous young face clouded with anxiety, the Duke, a slim, delicate-
looking man, somewhat about middle height, with slender, fragile
hands and greying hair, but with no trace of weakness in his fine,
distinguished face. His aquiline nose, broad forehead and grey
'devil's' eyebrows might well have replaced those of the cavalier in
the Van Dyck that gazed down from the opposite wall. Instead of the
conventional black, he wore a claret coloured vicuna smoking suit,
with silk lapels and braided fastenings; this touch of colour
increased his likeness to the portrait. He broke the silence
suddenly.
'Have you by any chance ever heard of a Mr. Mocata, Rex?'
'Nope. Who is he anyway?'
'A new friend of Simon's who has been staying with him these last
few months.'
'What-at his Club?'
'No-no, Simon no longer lives at his Club. I thought you knew. He
bought a house last February, a big, rambling old place tucked away
at the end of a cul-de-sac off one of those quiet residential
streets in St. John's Wood.'
'Why, that's right out past Regent's Park-isn't it? What's he
want with a place out there when there are any number of nice little
houses to let in Mayfair?'
'Another mystery, my friend.' The Duke's thin lips creased into a
smile. 'He said he wanted a garden, that's all I can tell you.'
'Simon! A garden!' Rex chuckled. 'That's a good story I'll say.
Simon doesn't know a geranium from a fuchsia. His botany is limited
to an outsized florist's bill for bunching his women friends from
shops, and why should a bachelor like Simon start running a big
house at all?'
'Perhaps Mr. Mocata could tell you,' murmured De Richleau mildly,
'or the queer servant that he has imported,'
'Have you ever seen this bird-Mocata I mean?'
'Yes, I called one evening about six weeks ago. Simon was out so
Mocata received me.'
'And what did you make of him?'
'I disliked him intensely. He's a pot-bellied, bald-headed person
of about sixty, with large, protuberant, fishy eyes, limp hands, and
a most unattractive lisp. He reminded me of a large white slug.'
'What about this servant that you mention?'
'I only saw him for a moment when he crossed the hall, but he
reminded me in a most unpleasant way of the Bogey Man with whom I
used to be threatened in my infancy.'
'Why, is he a black?'
'Yes. A Malagasy I should think.'
Rex frowned. 'Now what in heck is that?'
'A native of Madagascar. They are a curious people, half-Negro
and half-Polynesian. This great brute stands about six foot eight,
and the one glimpse I had of his eyes made me want to shoot him on
sight. He's a "bad black" if ever I saw one, and I've travelled, as
you know, in my time.'
'Do you know any more about these people?' asked Rex grimly.
'Not a thing.'
'Well, I'm not given to worry, but I've heard quite enough to get
me scared for Simon. He's in some jam or he'd never be housing
people like that.'
The Duke gently laid the long, blue-grey ash of his cigar in the
onyx ash-tray. 'There is not a doubt,' he said slowly, 'that Simon
is involved in some very queer business, but I have been stifling my
anxiety until your arrival. You see I wanted to hear your views
before taking the very exceptional step of -yes butting in-is the
expression, on the private affairs of even so intimate a friend. The
question is now-what are we to do?'
'Do!' Rex thrust back his chair and drew himself up to his full
magnificent height. 'We're going up to that house to have a little
heart-to-heart talk with Simon-right now!'
'I'm glad,' said De Richleau quietly, 'you feel like that, be
cause I ordered the car for half past ten. Shall we go?'
2
The Curious Guests of Mr. Simon Aron
As De Richleau's Hispano drew up at the dead end of the dark cul-
de-sac in St. John's Wood, Rex slipped out of the car and looked
about him. They were shut in by the high walls of neighbouring
gardens and, above a blank expanse of brick in which a single,
narrow door was visible, the upper stones of Simon's house showed
vague and mysterious among whispering trees.
'Ugh!' he exclaimed with a little shudder as a few drops splashed
upon his face from the dark branches overhead. 'What a dismal
hole-we might be in a graveyard.'
The Duke pressed the bell, and turning up the sable collar of his
coat against a slight drizzle which made the April night seem chill
and friendless, stepped back to get a better view of the premises.
'Hello! Simon's got an observatory here,' he remarked. 'I didn't
notice that on my previous visit.'
'So he has.' Rex followed De Richleau's glance to a dome that
crowned the house, but at that moment an electric globe suddenly
flared into life about their heads, and the door in the wall swung
open disclosing a sallow-faced manservant in dark livery.
'Mr. Simon Aron?' inquired De Richleau, but the man was already
motioning them to enter, so they followed him up a short covered
path and the door in the wall clanged to behind them,
The vestibule of the house was dimly lit, but Rex, who never wore
a coat or hat in the evening, noticed that two sets of outdoor
apparel lay, neatly folded, on a long console table as the silent
footman relieved De Richleau of his wraps. Evidently friend Simon
had other visitors.
'Maybe Mr. Aron's in conference and won't want to be disturbed,'
he said to the sallow-faced servant with a sudden feeling of guilt
at their intrusion. Perhaps, after all, their fears for Simon were
quite groundless and his neglect only due to a prolonged period of
intense activity on the markets, but the man only bowed and led them
across the hall.
'The fellow's a mute,' whispered the Duke. 'Deaf and dumb I'm
certain,' As he spoke the servant flung open a couple of large
double doors and stood waiting for them to enter.
A long, narrow room, opening into a wide salon, stretched before
them. Both were decorated in the lavish magnificence of the Louis
Seize period, but for the moment the dazzling brilliance of the
lighting prevented them taking in the details of the parquet floors,
the crystal mirrors, the gilded furniture and beautifully wrought
tapestries.
Rex was the first to recover and with a quick intake of breath he
clutched De Richleau's arm. 'By Jove she's here!' he muttered almost
inaudibly, his eyes riveted on a tall, graceful girl who stood some
yards away at tbe entrance of the salon talking to Simon.
Three times in the last eighteen months he had chanced upon that
strange, wise, beautiful face, with the deep eyes beneath heavy lids
that seemed so full of secrets and gave the lovely face a curiously
ageless look-so that despite her apparent youth she was as old
as-'Yes, as old as sin,' Rex caught himself thinking.
He had seen her first in a restaurant in Budapest; months later
again, in a traffic jam when his car was wedged beside hers in New
York, and then, strangely enough, riding along a road with three
men, in the country ten miles outside Buenos Aires. How
extraordinary that he should find her here-and what luck. He smiled
quickly at the thought that Simon could not fail to introduce him.
De Richleau's glance was riveted upon their friend. With an
abrupt movement Simon turned towards them. For a second he seemed
completely at a loss, his full, sensual mouth hung open to twice its
normal extent and his receding jaw almost disappeared behind his
white tie, while his dark eyes were filled with amazement and
something suspiciously like fear, but he recovered almost instantly
and his old smile flashed out as he came forward to greet them.
'My dear Simon,' the Duke's voice was a silken purr. 'How can we
apologise for breaking in on you like this?'
'Sure, we hadn't a notion you were throwing a party,' boomed
Rex, his glance following the girl who had moved off to join
another woman and three men who were talking together in the inner
room.
'But I'm delighted,' murmured Simon genially. 'Delighted to see
you both-only got a few friends-meeting of a little society I belong
to-that's all.'
Then we couldn't dream of interrupting you, could we Rex?' De
Richleau demurred with well-assumed innocence.
'Why, certainly not, we wouldn't even have come in if that
servant of yours hadn't taken us for some other folks you're
expecting.' But despite their apparent unwillingness to intrude,
neither of the two made any gesture of withdrawal and, mentally, De
Richleau gave Simon full marks for the way in which he accepted
their obviously unwelcome presence.
'I'm most terribly sorry about dinner to-night,' he was pro
claiming earnestly. 'Meant to rest for my bridge, I simply have to
these days, to be any good-even forgot till six o'clock that I had
these people coming.'
'How fortunate for you Simon that your larder is so well
stocked.' The Duke could not resist the gentle dig as his glance
fell on a long buffet spread with a collation which would have
rivalled the cold table in any great hotel.
'I 'phoned Ferraro,' parried Simon glibly. "The Berkeley never
lets me down. Would have asked you to drop in, but er-with this
meeting on I felt you'd be bored.'
'Bored! Not a bit, but we are keeping you from your other
guests.' With an airy gesture De Richleau waved his hand in the
direction of the inner room.
'Sure,' agreed Rex heartily, as he laid a large hand on Simon's
arm and gently propelled him towards the salon. 'Don't you worry
about us, we'll just take a glass of wine off you and fade away.'
His eyes were fixed again on the pale oval face of the girl.
Simon's glance flickered swiftly towards the Duke, who ignored,
with a guileless smile, his obvious reluctance for them to meet his
other friends, and noted with amusement that he avoided any proper
introduction.
'Er-er-two very old friends of mine,' he said, with his little
nervous cough as he interchanged a swift look with a fleshy, moon-
faced man whom De Richleau knew to be Mocata.
'Well, well, how nice,' the bald man lisped with unsmiling eyes.
'It is a pleasure always to welcome any friends of Simon's.'
De Richleau gave him a frigid bow and thought of reminding him
coldly that Simon's welcome was sufficient in his own house, but for
the moment it was policy to hide his antagonism so he replied
politely that Mocata was most kind, then, with the ease which
characterised all his movements, he turned his attention to an
elderly lady who was seated near by.
She was a woman of advanced age but fine presence, richly dressed
and almost weighed down with heavy jewellery. Between her fingers
she held the stub of a fat cigar at which she was puffing
vigorously.
'Madame.' The Duke drew a case containing the long Hoyos from his
pocket and bent towards her. 'Your cigar is almost finished, permit
me to offer you one of mine.'
She regarded him for a moment with piercingly bright eyes, then
stretched out a fat, beringed hand. 'Sank you, Monsieur, I see you
are a connoisseur.' With her beaked, parrot nose she sniffed at the
cigar appreciatively. 'But I have not seen you at our other
meetings, what ees your name?'
'De Richleau, Madame, and yours?'
'De Richleau I a maestro indeed.' She nodded heavily. 'Je suis
Madame D'Urfe, you will 'ave heard of me.'
'But certainly.' The Duke bowed again. 'Do you think we shall
have a good meeting tonight?'
'If the sky clears we should learn much,' answered the old lady
cryptically.
'Ho! Ho!' thought the Duke. 'We are about to make use of Simon's
observatory it seems. Good, let us learn more.' But before he could
pump the elderly Frenchwoman further, Simon deftly interrupted the
conversation and drew him away.
'So you have taken up the study of the stars, my friend,'
remarked the Duke as his host led him to the buffet.
'Oh, er-yes. Find astronomy very interesting, you know. Have some
caviare?' Simon's eyes flickered anxiously towards Rex, who was deep
in conversation with the girl.
As he admired her burnished hair and slumbrous eyes, for a moment
the Duke was reminded of a Botticelli painting. She had, he thought,
that angel look with nothing Christian in it peculiar to women born
out of their time, the golden virgin to the outward eye whose veins
were filled with unlit fire. A rare cinquecento type who should have
lived in the Italy of the Borgias. Then he turned again to Simon.
'It was because of the observatory then that you acquired this
house, I suppose?'
'Yes. You must come up one night and we'll watch a few stars
together.' Something of the old warmth had crept into Simon's tone
and he was obviously in earnest as he offered the invitation, but
the Duke was not deceived into believing that he was welcome on the
present occasion.
'Thank you, I should enjoy that,' he said promptly, while over
Simon's shoulder he studied the other two men who made up the party.
One, a tall, fair fellow, stood talking to Mocata. His thin, flaxen
hair brushed flatly back, and whose queer, light eyes proclaimed him
an Albino; the other, a stout man dressed in a green plaid and
ginger kilt, was walking softly up and down with his hands clasped
behind his back, muttering to himself inaudibly. His wild, flowing
white hair and curious costume suggested an Irish bard.
'Altogether a most unprepossessing lot,' thought the Duke, and
his opinion was not improved by three new arrivals. A grave-faced
Chinaman wearing the robes of a Mandarin, whose slit eyes betrayed a
cold, merciless nature: a Eurasian with only one arm, the left, and
a tall, thin woman with a scraggy throat and beetling eyebrows which
met across the bridge of her nose.
Mocata received them as though he were the host, but as the tall
woman bore down on Simon he promptly left the Duke, who guessed that
the move was to get out of earshot. However, the lady's greeting in
a high-pitched Middle Western accent came clearly to him.
'Waal, Simon, all excitement about what we'll learn tonight? It
should help a heap, this being your natal conjunction.'
'Ha! Ha!' said De Richleau to himself. 'Now I begin to understand
a little and I like this party even less,' Then, with the idea of
trying to verify his surmise, he turned towards the one-armed
Eurasian, but Simon-apparently guessing his intention-quickly
excused himself to the American woman, and cut off the Duke's
advance.
'So, my young friend,' thought De Richleau, 'you mean to prevent
me from obtaining any further information about this strange
gathering, do you? Ail right! I'll twist your tail a little,' and he
remarked sweetly:
'Did you say that you were interested in Astronomy or Astrology,
Simon? There is a distinct difference you know.'
'Oh, Astronomy, of course.' Simon ran a finger down his long,
beak-like nose. 'It is nice to see you again-have some more
champagne?'
'Thank you, no, later perhaps.' The Duke smothered a smile as he
caught Mocata, who had overheard him, exchange a quick look with
Simon.
'Wish this were an ordinary meeting,' Simon said, a moment later,
with an uneasy frown. Then I'd ask you to stay, but we're going
through the Society's annual balance-sheet tonight -and you and Rex
not being members you know . . .'
'Quite, quite, my dear fellow, of course,' De Richleau agreed
amicably, while to himself he thought, That's a nasty fence young
sly-boots has put up for me, but I'll be damned if I go before I
find out for certain what I came for.' Then he added in a cheerful
whisper: 'I should have gone before but Rex seems so interested in
the young woman in green, I want to give him as long as possible.'
'My dear chap,' Simon protested, 'I feel horribly embarrassed at
having to ask you to go at all.'
A fat, oily-looking Babu in a salmon-pink turban and gown had
just arrived and was shaking hands with Mocata; behind him came a
red-faced Teuton, who suffered the deformity of a hare lip.
Simon stepped quickly forward again as the two advanced, but De
Richleau once more caught the first words which were snuffled out by
the hare-lipped man.
'Well, Abraham, wie geht es?' then there came the fulsome chuckle
of the fleshy Indian. 'You must not call him that, it is unlucky to
do so before the great night.'
The devil it is!' muttered the Duke to himself, but Simon had
left the other two with almost indecent haste in order to rejoin
him, so he said with a smile: 'I gather you are about to execute
Deed Poll, my friend?'
'Eh!' Simon exclaimed with a slight start.
To change your name,' De Richleau supplemented.
'Ner.' He shook his head rapidly as he uttered the curious
negative that he often used. It came of his saying 'No' without
troubling to close the lips of his full mouth. 'Ner-that's only a
sort of joke we have between us-a sort of initiation ceremony-I'm
not a full member yet.'
'I see, then you have ceremonies in your Astronomical Society-how
interesting!'
As he spoke De Richleau, out of the corner of his eye, saw Mocata
make a quick sign to Simon and then glance at the ormolu clock on
the mantelpiece; so to save his host the awkwardness of having
actually to request his departure, he exclaimed: 'Dear mel Twenty
past eleven, I had no idea it was so late. I must drag Rex away from
that lovely lady after all, I fear.'
'Well, if you must go.' Simon looked embarrassed and worried, but
catching Mocata's eye again, he promptly led the way over to his
other unwelcome guest.
Rex gave a happy grin as they came up. This is marvellous Simon.
I've been getting glimpses of this lady in different continents
these two years past, and she seems to recall having seen me too.
It's just great that we should become acquainted at last through
you.' Then he smiled quickly at the girl: 'May I present my friend
De Richfeau? Duke, this is Miss Tanith.'
De Richleau bent over her long, almost transparent hand and
raised it to his lips. 'How unfortunate I am,' he said with old-
fashioned gallantry, 'to be presented to you only in time to say
good-bye, and perhaps gain your displeasure by taking your new
friend with me as well.'
'But,' she regarded him steadily out of large, clear, amber eyes.
Surely you do not depart before the ceremony?'
'I fear we must. We are not members of your er-Circle you see,
only old friends of Simon's.'
A strange look of annoyance and uncertainty crept into her
glance, and the Duke guessed that she was searching her mind for any
indiscretions she might have committed in her conversation with Rex.
Then she shrugged lightly and, with a brief inclination of the head
which dismissed them both, turned coldly away.
The Duke took Simon's arm affectionately, as the three friends
left the salon. 'I wonder,' he said persuasively, 'if you could
spare me just two minutes before we go-no more I promise you.'
'Rather, of course.' Simon seemed now to have regained his old
joviality. 'I'll never forgive myself for missing your dinner
tonight-this wretched meeting-and I've seen nothing of you for
weeks. Now Rex is over we must throw a party together.'
'We will, we will,' De Richleau agreed heartily, 'but listen; is
not Mars in conjunction with Venus tonight?'
'Ner,' Simon replied promptly. 'With Saturn, that's what they've
all come to see.'
'Ah, Saturn! My Astronomy is so rusty, but I saw some mention of
it in the paper yesterday, and at one time I was a keen student of
the Stars. Would it be asking too much my dear fellow, to have just
one peep at it through your telescope? We should hardly delay your
meeting for five minutes.'
Simon's hesitation was barely perceptible before he nodded his
bird-like head with vigorous assent. 'Um, that's all right- they
haven't all arrived yet-let's go up.' Then, with his hands thrust
deep in the trouser pockets of his exceedingly well-cut dress suit,
he led them hurriedly through the hall and up three flights of
stairs.'
De Richleau followed more slowly. Stairs were the one thing which
ruffled his otherwise equable temper and he had no desire to lose it
now. By the time he arrived in the lofty chamber, with Rex behind
him, Simon had all the lights switched on.
'Well you've certainly gone in for it properly,' Rex remarked as
he surveyed the powerful telescope slanting to the roof and a whole
arsenal of sextants, spheres and other astrological impedimenta
ranged about the room.
'It's rather an exact science you see,' Simon volunteered.
'Quite,' agreed the Duke briefly. 'But I wonder, a little, that
you should consider charts of the Macrocosm necessary to your
studies.
'Oh, those!' Simon shrugged his narrow shoulders as he glanced
around the walls. 'They're only for fun-relics of the Alchemistic
nonsense in the Middle Ages, but quite suitable for decoration.'
'How clever of you to carry out your scheme of decoration on the
floor as well.' The Duke was thoughtfully regarding a five-pointed
star enclosed within two circles between which numerous mystic
characters in Greek and Hebrew had been carefully drawn.
'Yes, good idea, wasn't it?' Simon tittered into his hand. It was
the familiar gesture which both his friends knew so well, yet
somehow his chuckle had not quite its usual ring.
The silence that followed was a little awkward and in it, all
three plainly heard a muffled scratching noise that seemed to come
from a large wicker basket placed against the wall.
'You've got mice here, Simon,' said Rex casually, but De Richleau
had stiffened where he stood. Then, before Simon could bar his way,
he leapt towards the hamper and ripped open the lid.
'Stop that!' cried Simon angrily, and dashing forward he forced
it shut again, but too late, for within the basket the Duke had seen
two living pinioned fowls-a black cock and a white hen.
With a sudden access of bitter fury he turned on Simon, and
seizing him by his silk lapels, shook him as a terrier shakes a rat.
'You fool,' he thundered. 'I'd rather see you dead than monkeying
with Black Magic.'
3
The Esoteric Doctrine
'Take-take your hands off me,' Simon gasped.
His dark eyes blazed in a face that had gone deathly white and
only a superhuman effort enabled him to keep his clenched fists
pressed to his sides.
In another second he would have hit the Duke, but Rex, a head
taller than either of them, laid a mighty hand on the shoulder of
each and forced them apart.
'Have a heart now, just what is all this?' His quiet, familiar
voice, with its faint American intonation, sobered the others
immediately and De Richleau, swinging on his heel, strode to the
other side of the observatory, where he stood for a moment, with his
back towards them, regaining control of his emotions.
Simon, panting a little, gave a quick, nervous wriggle of his
bird-like head and smoothed out the lapels of his evening coat.
'Now-I'll tell you,' he said jerkily, 'I never asked either of
you to come here tonight, and even my oldest friends have no right
to butt in on my private-affairs. I think you'd better go.'
The Duke turned, passing one hand over his greying hair. All
trace of his astonishing outburst had disappeared and he was once
more the handsome, distinguished figure that they knew so well.
'I'm sorry, Simon,' he said gravely. 'But I felt as a father
might who sees his child trying to pick live coals out of the fire.'
'I'm not a child,' muttered Simon, sullenly.
'No, but I could not have more affection for you if you were
actually my son, and it is useless now to deny that you are playing
the most dangerous game which has ever been known to mankind
throughout the ages.'
'Oh, come,' a quick smile spread over Rex's ugly, attractive
face. 'That's a gross exaggeration. What's the harm if Simon wants
to try out a few old parlour games?'
'Parlour games!' De Richleau took him up sharply. 'My dear Rex, I
fear your prowess in aeroplanes and racing cars hardly qualifies you
to judge the soul destroying powers of these ancient cults.'
'Thanks. I'm not quite a half-wit, and plenty of spiritualistic
seances take place in the States, but I've never heard of anyone as
sane as Simon going bats because of them yet.'
Simon nodded his narrow head slowly up and down. 'Of course-Rex
is right, and you're only making a mountain out of a molehill.'
'As you like,' De Richleau shrugged. 'In that case will you
permit us to stay and participate in your operations tonight?'
'Ner-I'm sorry, but you're not a member of our Circle.'
'No matter. We have already met most of your friends downstairs,
surely they will not object to our presence on just this one
occasion?'
'Ner.' Simon shook his head again. 'Our number is made up.'
'I see, you are already thirteen, is that it? Now listen, Simon.'
The Duke laid his hands gently on the young Jew's shoulders. 'One of
the reasons why my friendship with Rex and yourself has developed
into such a splendid intimacy, is because I have always refrained
from stressing my age and greater experience, but tonight I break
the rule. My conscious life, since we both left our schools, has
been nearly three times as long as yours and, in addition, although
I have never told you of it, I made a deep study of these esoteric
doctrines years ago when I lived in the East. I beg of you, as I
have never begged for anything in my life before, that you should
give up whatever quest you are engaged upon and leave this house
with us immediately.'
For a moment Simon seemed to waver. All his faith in De
Richleau's judgment, knowledge, and love for him, urged him to
agree, but at that moment Mocata's musical lisping voice cut in upon
the silence, calling from the landing just below:
'Simon, the others have come. It is time.'
'Coming,' called Simon, then he looked at the two friends with
whom he had risked his life in the 'Forbidden Territory.' 'I can't,'
he said with an effort, 'You heard-it's too late to back out now.'
'Then let us remain-please,' begged the Duke.
'No, I'm sorry.' A new firmness had crept into Simon's tone, 'but
I must ask you to go now.'
'Very well.'
De Richleau stepped forward as though to shake hands then, with
almost incredible swiftness, his arm flew back and next second his
fist caught Simon a smashing blow full beneath the jaw.
The action was so sudden, so unexpected, that Simon was caught
completely off his guard. For a fraction of time he was lifted from
his feet, then he crashed senseless on his back and slid spread-
eagled across the polished floor.
'Have you gone crazy?' ejaculated Rex.
'No-we've got to get him out of here-save him from himself-don't
argue! Quick!' Already De Richleau was kneeling by the crumpled body
of his friend.
Rex needed no further urging. He had been in too many tight
corners with the Duke to doubt the wisdom of his decisions however
strange his actions might appear. In one quick heave he dragged
Simon's limp form across his shoulders arid started for the stairs.
'Steady!' ordered the Duke. 'I'll go first and tackle anyone who
tries to stop us. You get him to the car-Understoood?'
'What if they raise the house? You'll never be able to tackle the
whole bunch on your own?'
'In that case drop him, I'll get him out somehow, while you
protect my rear. Come on!'
With De Richleau leading they crept down the first flight of
stairs. On the landing he paused and peered cautiously over the
banisters. No sound came from below. 'Rex,' he whispered.
'Yep.'
'If that black servant I told you of appears, for God's sake
don't look at his eyes. Watch his hands and hit him in the belly.'
'O.K.'
A moment later they were down the second flight. The hall
was empty and only a vague murmur of conversation came to them
from behind the double doors that led to the salon.
'Quick!' urged the Duke. 'Mocata may come out to look for him any
moment,'
'Right.' Rex, bent double beneath his burden, plunged down the
last stairs, and De Richleau was already halfway across the half
when the dumb servant suddenly appeared from the vestibule.
For a second he stood there, his sallow face a mask of blank
surprise then, side-stepping the Duke with the agility of a rugby
forward, he lowered his bullet head and charged Rex with silent
animal ferocity.
'Got you,' snapped De Richleau, for although the man had dodged
with lightning speed he had caught his wrist in passing. Then
flinging his whole weight upon it as he turned, he jerked the fellow
clean off his feet and sent him spinning head foremost against the
wall.
As his head hit the panelling the mute gave an uncouth grunt, and
rolled over on the floor, but he staggered up again and dashed
towards the salon. Rex and the Duke were already pounding down the
tiled path and in another second they had flung themselves into the
lane through the entrance in the garden wall.
'Thank God,' gasped the Duke as he wrenched open the door of the
Hispano. 'I believe that hellish crew would have killed us rather
than let us get Simon out of there alive.'
'Well, I suppose you do know what you're at,' Rex muttered as he
propped Simon up on the back seat of the car. 'But I'm not certain
you're safe to be with.'
'Home,' ordered De Richleau curtly to the footman, who was hiding
his astonishment at their sudden exit by hastily tucking the rug
over their knees. Then he smiled at Rex a trifle grimly. 'I suppose
I do seem a little mad to you, but you can't possibly be expected to
appreciate what a horribly serious business this is. I'll explain
later.'
In a few moments they had left the gloom of the quiet streets
behind and were once more running through well-lit ways towards
Mayfair, but Simon was still unconscious when they pulled up in
Curzon Street before Errol House.
'I'll take him,' volunteered Rex. The less the servants have to
do with this the better,' and picking up Simon in his strong arms as
though he had been a baby, he carried him straight upstairs to the
first floor where De Richleau's flat was situated.
'Put him in the library,' said the Duke, who had paused to murmur
something about a sudden illness to the porter, when he arrived on
the landing a moment later. 'I'll get something to bring him round
from the bathroom.'
Rex nodded obediently, and carried Simon into that room in the
Curzon Street fiat which was so memorable for those who had been
privileged to visit it, not so much on account of its size and
decorations, but for the unique collection of rare and beautiful
objects which it contained. A Tibetan Buddha seated upon the Lotus;
bronze figurines from ancient Greece; beautifully chased rapiers of
Toledo steel, and Moorish pistols inlaid with turquoise and gold;
ikons from Holy Russia set with semi-precious stones and curiously
carved ivories from the East.
As Rex laid Simon upon the wide sofa he glanced round him with an
interest unappeased by a hundred visits, at the walls lined shoulder
high with beautifully bound books, and at the lovely old colour
prints, interspersed with priceless historical documents and maps,
which hung above them.
De Richleau, when he joined him, produced a small crystal bottle
which he held beneath Simon's beak-like nose. 'No good trying to
talk to him tonight,' he remarked, 'but I want to bring him round
sufficiently to put him to sleep again.
Rex grunted. That sounds like double-dutch to me.'
'No. I mean to fight these devils with their own weapons, as you
will see.'
Simon groaned a little, and as his eyes flickered open the Duke
took a small round mirror from his pocket. 'Simon,' he said softly,
moving the lamp a little nearer, 'look upward at my hand.'
As he spoke De Richleau held the mirror about eighteen inches
from Simon's forehead and a little above the level of his eyes, so
that it caught and reflected the light of the lamp on to his lids.
'Hold it lower,' suggested Rex. 'He'll strain his eyes turning
them upwards like that.'
'Quiet,' said the Duke sharply. 'Simon, look up and listen to me.
You have been hurt and have a troubled mind, but your friends are
with you and you have no need to worry any more.'
Simon opened his eyes again and turned them upwards to the
mirror, where they remained fixed.
'I am going to send you to sleep, Simon,' De Richleau went on
softly. 'You need rest and you will awake free from pain. In a
moment your eyes will close and then your head will feel better.'
For another half-minute he held the mirror steadily reflecting
the light upon Simon's retina, then he placed the first and second
fingers of his free hand upon the glass with his palm turned outward
and made a slow pass from it towards the staring eyes, which closed
at once before he touched them.
'You will sleep now,' he continued quietly, 'and you will not
wake until ten o'clock tomorrow morning. Directly you awake you will