The Satanist

THE SATANIST (V1.0) BY DENNIS WHEATLEY

Copyright 1960

CHAPTER I A DANGEROUS ASSIGNMENT

Colonel Verney's office was on the top floor of a tall building in London. He was sitting at his desk looking at a photograph of the naked body of a man of about thirty. Dark marks on the wrists and ankles showed where they had been tightly bound; the head lolled back and the neck was half severed by a horrible gash from ear to ear. Laying the photograph down, the Colonel said:

'The Devil's behind this. I'm convinced of it.'

'Several devils, if you ask me, Sir,' replied Inspector Thompson, who was sitting opposite him. 'Must have been, to have trussed poor Morden up like that before cutting his throat.'

'I didn't say "a devil" but "the Devil" - Lucifer, Satan, or whatever you care to call the indestructible power of Evil that has sought to destroy mankind ever since the Creation.'

The Inspector had been transferred to the Special Branch only a few months before; so he did not know much about the work of Colonel Verney's department. Like the other branches of the Secret Service, its function was to secure information; it never took legal proceedings. Whenever these were required the case was passed to Special Branch for action. Morden had been one of Colonel Verney's young men, and Thompson had come over from Scotland Yard to report on the case. The report was negative as, although it was over a week since Morden's body had been found in an alley leading down to a Bermondsey dock, the police had so far failed to secure a clue of any kind to the murder. But Thompson had also brought with him the results of a second post-mortem held to answer certain specific questions raised by the Colonel.

Now, he gave a slightly uneasy cough, and said: 'I should have thought it a pretty plain case, Sir. Morden was after these Communist saboteurs, they rumbled him and knocked him off. I can't see how the Devil comes into that. Not from the practical point of view, anyhow. But, of course, if you've got any special theory we'd be only too happy to follow it up.'

The Colonel shook his head. 'No, I've nothing you could work on, Thompson. I'm about to brief another man to carry on in Morden's place. He might pick up something, and naturally your people will continue to check up on all the roughnecks who might have been involved. We can only hope that one of us will tumble on a lead. Thank you for coming over.'

As the Inspector stood up, the Colonel rose too. He was a rather thin man and tall above the average, but his height was not immediately apparent on account of a slight stoop. His hair was going grey, parted in the centre and brushed firmly back to suppress a tendency to curl at the ends. His face was longish, with a firm mouth and determined chin; but the other features were dominated by a big aggressive nose that had earned him the nickname of Conky Bill - or, as most of his friends called him for short, C.B. His eyebrows were thick and prawn-like. Below them his grey eyes had the quality of seeming to look right through one. He usually spoke very quietly, in an almost confidential tone, and gave the impression that there were very few things out of which he did not derive a certain amount of amusement; but at the moment his thin face was grim.

Having politely seen the Inspector to the door, he paused on the threshold and said to his secretary in the outer office, 'I'll see Mr. Sullivan now.' Then he returned to his desk.

Barney Sullivan was twenty-eight years of age, and, in contrast to his Chief, made the most of his five foot nine inches by carrying himself very upright. He was broad-shouldered, rather round-faced and had a nose that only just escaped being snub. His mouth was wide, his brown eyes merry, and his hair a mass of short, irrepressible dark curls. Those merry eyes, a healthy bronzed skin, and his swift movements, showed him to be a young man endowed with abundant joie de vivre.

As he came in, Verney, now faintly smiling, waved him to the chair the Inspector had vacated, offered his cigarette case, and asked:

'Well, young feller, how's the world treating you?'

With a word of thanks, Barney took one of C.B.'s specials -they were super-long Virginians that he smoked occasionally as an alternative to his beloved thin-stemmed pipe - then he replied.

'Not too badly, Sir. I had a grand run with the Pytchley on my day off last week. We killed three times, Apart from that, only the usual complaint; too much desk work. I'm sick of the sight of card-indexes.'

C.B. shrugged. 'Has to be done. Backbone of our job. But I've got something for you that should mean your being out and about for quite a while. That is, if you care to take it.'

'Orders is orders, Sir.' Barney gave a wide-mouthed grin. 'All that matters is if you think I'm up to it.'

'I do. Otherwise I wouldn't offer it to you. But I've never yet asked a man to gamble his life with his eyes shut. The risk involved in this case is far greater than any of us are expected to take in the normal course of our duties; so I'll not hold it against you if you say you'd prefer to stick to routine work. Before you reply you'd better take a look at that.'

Barney picked up the photograph that C.B. pushed across to him, stared at it a moment and gave a low whistle. 'So that's what happened to poor Teddy Morden! I knew, of course, that he was dead, but understood that he'd died of a heart attack.'

'We don't broadcast such matters,' remarked the Colonel quietly, 'or even let on about them in the office to anyone who is not immediately concerned. Now; how about it?'

'I'll play, Sir.' Barney's reply came after only a second's hesitation. 'I hardly knew Morden, except to pass the time of day with; but he was one of us and I'm game to have a cut at the swine who did that to him.'

'Good show, Sullivan. I had a hunch that in you I'd picked the right man to carry on from where Morden left off. The chance of your running down his murderers is pretty slender, though. The police haven't got a clue. Of course, you might strike a lucky lead but, anyway, that isn't really your job. I showed you that photograph only so that you should know the sort of thing to which you will be exposing yourself by stepping into Morden's shoes .'

C.B. got out his pipe and began to fill it. 'This is top-level stuff. Last December a high-power meeting was held with the P.M. in be on honest chaps instead of saboteurs being elected. Get the idea?'

'I certainly do, Sir.'

'Good! Then there's another angle to it. Since the war, Britain has been fighting for her life economically. Industry has done marvels in increasing our exports, and the Government did a wonderful job a while back in saving the pound. But the country has been deliberately robbed of a big part of the benefit it should have derived from these stupendous efforts.'

'By unofficial strikes,' hazarded Barney.

'You've said it, my lad. In the past ten years they've cost the country untold millions, and at times thrown as many as a hundred thousand people, who had no part in the dispute, out of work for several weeks. It's their repercussions that prove so costly and there seems no way of altering the pattern they follow. A group of Reds get a dispute going on some little point of procedure in a small plant where they have control. The installing of a new machine, or an alteration in schedule to improve efficiency, is all they need to start an argument. They persuade one category of workers that it may lead to their getting smaller pay-packets, or cause redundancy, so they down tools. If it ended there that wouldn't be a very serious matter. But it doesn't. The agitators get busy with the cry that a threat to one category of workers is a threat to all, and out come other categories in sympathy. Yet even that is not the worst. After a week or two the stoppage in that factory begins to affect others. Nine times out of ten the thing it is making is not a finished article, but a part or material essential for putting the completed product on the market. That means far bigger plants have to put their hands on short time, or are brought to a standstill.

'It's time everyone realized that every man who joins a strike that has not the approval of his Union is a Public Enemy; because these wildcat stoppages eat into profits like rats into corn, and profits mean taxes. If it had not been for all this downing of tools without real justification, by now we could have doubled old-age pensions and child allowances, and had a shilling off the income-tax into the bargain.'

'Bejesus, you're right, Sir!' The touch of Irish slipped out owing to Barney's spontaneous agreement. 'Look at that B.O.A.C. strike. It must have cost the country millions; and largely because the men let themselves be carried away by the brilliant oratory of Sid Maitland - in spite of the fact that, according to the Press, he openly declared himself to be a Communist. They just wouldn't listen to Jim Matthews but howled him down, and when he tried to get them to accept the Union's ruling and rely on its negotiations they called him a traitor. It's a shocking state of things when they won't be guided by their own Union officials.'

'That's what is giving the responsible Labour leaders such a headache. For the past year or so they have been doing their utmost both to oust the Communists from key positions in the Unions and to get a firmer control over the shop stewards. But it is uphill work, because it lays them open to accusations of attempting to browbeat the workers and of being secretly in league with the Tory government; and it is difficult for them to convince the rank and file that they are not.'

'Yes, I see that. They're between the devil and the deep blue sea; and owing to the size of the Unions it is impossible for their top men to keep in personal touch with all their tens of thousands of members. That is where the shop stewards have such a pull.'

The Colonel nodded. 'True enough. But don't run away with the idea that all the shop stewards are bad hats. The great majority of them are good chaps doing a very valuable job of work maintaining good relations between the management and their mates. The trouble is that the bad ones are in a position to do an immense amount of damage by formenting these wildcat strikes. Those are the boys we want to get the low-down on; so that we can expose them and help the T.U.C. in its big campaign to purge the British Labour movement of Russian influence.'

'And where do I come in on this, Sir?' Barney asked.

Again C.B.'s voice sank to a conspiratorial low. 'Sinews of war, young fellow. That's our line of attack. Men who come out unofficially don't get strike pay. Yet some of these unofficial strikes go on for months. Meantime the strikers have got to live and feed their families. How do they do it? We know the answer to that one. At least we know it to apply in some cases, and have good reason to suppose that it applies in many more. They are given enough cash to keep going on the side from secret funds controlled by the Reds.'

'Don't some of the better types query where it comes from?'

'Those who do are told that it is from subscriptions raised among sympathizers.'

'But, in fact, it comes from Moscow.'

'For such considerable sums, that seems the only possible source of origin. One of Russia's prime objects is to disrupt our industry, in order to create the unemployment and discontent which always results in the spread of Communism; so they could hardly spend their money to better purpose. Yet the fact remains that we have failed to uncover any link between the leaders of these unofficial strikes and any of the Iron Curtain country Embassies, or any other Soviet-controlled set-up.'

'Quite a number of the top Reds go to Russia from time to time, Sir.'

'Yes, and although they give out that they go there only for a holiday, I don't doubt they return with plenty of ideas that don't do British industry much good; but they could not bring back any considerable sums of money with them - not without our knowing about it.'

'And you want me to try to find out the source of supply?'

'That's it; then we could think up some way of cutting it off.' C.B. pulled at his pipe for a moment, then said with a change of tone, 'Now, a word about yourself. What led you to join this outfit?'

Barney grinned. 'I was broke. My creditors in Dublin had made Ireland too hot to hold me. I decided that I'd got to take a steady job, but I knew that I'd never settle down to a humdrum office routine. It had to be something that would provide me with a bit of excitement now and then, and my uncle, General Sir Geoffrey Frobisher, got me in here.'

'So that was it, eh! Of course, I knew that old "Frosty" Frobisher had vouched for you, and looking up your file the other day reminded me that you are the Earl of Larne. How come that you have never used your title?'

'Well, it was this way, Sir. I've practically no family, only my mother's brother, the General. Both my parents died when I was quite young and he became my guardian. He did very little about it, though; but I can't really blame him for that. I lived in Ireland and he lived in England. During most of the time I was at school he was up to his eyes in the war. Then for the greater part of the next six years he was stationed abroad - doing tours of duty in the Middle East, then in Germany. No one else had any right to call me to account, so I'm afraid my high spirits led to my becoming rather a bad hat. I got sent down from Trinity for leading a pretty hectic rag, but I had quite a generous allowance and plenty of friends. The fathers of several of those with whom I used to stay in the holidays reared bloodstock, and I've always been good with horses; so I naturally gravitated to that as a means of earning a living. I won quite a few steeplechases and received handsome presents from the owners. But it was a case of easy come easy go, and most of what I made over the sticks I lost by backing losers on the flat.

'Thanks, Sir.' Barney took another of C.B.'s long cigarettes, lit it and went on. 'They were an expensive crowd to live with, too, so I was soon up to my eyes in debt. But I was in my last year at the University when I was sent down, and becoming twenty-one a year later saved me from disaster. My father didn't leave me a fortune, only a few thousands, and if I'd had any sense I should have pulled up then. As it was, like a young ass, I started to really hit up the town. What with the gee-gees, the girls, and throwing expensive parties, I got through the lot in a couple of years.'

'You would have been twenty-three by then. That's about the time you came into the title, isn't it?�

'Yes, Sir. But I had never expected to. When my father died there were seven people between myself and the Earldom, and we didn't even know that branch of the family. One was drowned in 1939, two more were killed in the war, and another met his death while climbing in Switzerland in 1951. That still left three; the late Lord Larne and his two sons. They had lived in Kenya since before the war, so I'd never met any of them and never gave them a thought until one day in 'fifty-four. I learned then that all three had crashed in their private plane and been killed.'

'Didn't you come into any money with the title?'

'No. The place in Ireland had been sold way back in the 'twenties, and all the money Lord Larne left went to his widow, who still lives in Kenya. All I came into were the heirlooms -some good family silver and a few pictures - but unfortunately they weren't worth much.'

'What happened then?'

'The General sent for me. I came clean with him about my debts in Dublin and he said some pretty caustic things to me; but, by and large, he behaved extremely well. He declared that as I came of an ancient and honourable family, I was under a definite obligation not to disgrace the title; that if I took it up, it would certainly lead to my continuing to mix with people whose style of life I could not afford, and that, in any ordinary job, it could only prove a handicap to me. Therefore, he argued, I ought not to use it until I had lived down my raffish past. By then I had realized that if I did not turn over a new leaf I was riding for a really nasty fall; so I agreed to forget the Earldom for the time being, leave Ireland, and make a fresh start. He said that if I'd do that and promise to go straight for five years before using my title, he would pay my debts and make me an allowance of �300 a year until I got on my feet.'

'So that was the way of it.'

'Yes. Then we talked about all sorts of jobs and eventually he hit on the idea of getting me in here. That appealed to me more than going off to one of the Dominions or into industry. I went back to Dublin, hardened my heart about saying good-bye to any of my friends so as not to have to lie to them about my future plans, packed up my things and simply told my landlady that I was going to the United States. I imagine my sudden disappearance was no more than a nine days' wonder, and I've never been back there since. Naturally I missed the hectic parties, the racing, the girls and the champagne for a bit, but I soon became so intrigued by the work here that I didn't miss them any more; and I can never be sufficiently grateful to the General for what he did for me.'

C.B.'s long face broke into its most friendly smile. 'Yes, he certainly did the right and handsome thing by you; but you've yourself to thank even more for having the guts to snap out of the sort of life you had been living for so long. About this title of yours, though? The five years are nearly up, aren't they?�

'Yes; only another three months to go.'

'Do you propose to use it then?'

'No, I don't think so. Having a title these days doesn't get one anywhere. It only costs money and I'm not all that well off. I might if I married though, as the girl would probably like it, so it wouldn't be fair to her not to.'

'Are you thinking of getting married?'

Barney grinned. 'No, Sir. I prefer to love them all a little bit.'

'Good. You're wrong, though, about a title never getting a man anywhere. There are times when it can be very useful, and that might well prove the case, in certain circumstances, during the course of this job I'm putting you on.'

'What! While I'm posing as a Red among manual workers and technicians?' Barney opened his brown eyes wide in surprise. 'Surely not?'

'That will be your role for most of the time, of course, but there may turn out to be another angle to the business. I'm not telling you about that at present, because it is only a theory of my own and I don't want to start you off with preconceived ideas that might both warp your judgment and be wrong. But if at any time you do feel that the use of your title might help to open a door to you, use it. I'll take the responsibility for your breaking your promise to the General and, if need be, square matters with him.'

'Very well. That's O.K. by me, Sir.'

C.B. pushed a thick file across the desk, and said: 'Here is all the dope we've got so far. Take it to your office and spend the next two or three days going through it very thoroughly. Naturally I have a dozen other members of the firm hard at it, ferreting out the pasts of various' fellow-travellers, attending meetings, checking figures, and generally gathering information, but you'll be the only one to be planted on the inside in London as a real red-hot Red. Your line will be that you've just come over from Ireland. We'll provide you with all the background stuff - a Party card, membership cards of half-a-dozen Unions, and a list of the most promising branches at which to use them. Don't start anything until you have mastered that file, and when you have, let me know. Can I take it that you are clear on what I want you to do?'

'Yes, Sir. I've to get you all I can on the methods used by Communists to become officials in the Unions, about rigged elections and where the money comes from to finance unofficial strikes.'

'You've got it, young feller. Good luck to you.'

'Thank you, Sir.' Barney Sullivan tucked the file under his arm and, with his cheerful face more serious than usual, left the room.

As Barney went out, Verney again picked up the photograph of Morden's body. With set mouth he stared at it while thinking of the points that had emerged from the second autopsy, for which he had asked.

Morden's ankles had been lashed together, but his wrists had not; they had been lashed separately to thick pieces of wood or iron. The marks of the cords that had bound his ankles did not make a straight line; they made a V pointing towards the feet, as though pressure had been exerted between them to drag the cords down where they met in the middle. Immediately below the point of the V there was severe bruising of both ankles, as though a thick stake, or peg, had been thrust between them. There had been no blood on the body when it was found, so obviously it had been washed after Morden's throat had been cut; but the second autopsy had revealed that while there was no trace of blood on Morden's body, there were still tiny particles of blood under his eyelids and in his hair.

Inspector Thompson had been aware that Colonel Verney had given most of his time before the last war to checking up on the activities of Fascists, and that since the war he had given most of it to checking up on those of Communists. What the Inspector had not known was that, as C.B. was responsible for keeping tabs on all groups which might be engaged in any anti-social activity, it had included a number of secret societies that practised Black Magic. The knowledge that he had gained of such matters was, therefore, considerable.

With a heavy sigh he put away the photograph. It was the marks on the legs that had first led him to suspect that Morden had been hung by his bound ankles from a stout peg between them, and now the particles of blood found in his hair confirmed that. Verney did not believe that the killing was the work of thugs in the dock area. In his own mind he now felt certain that Morden was the victim of a ritual murder, and had been crucified upside-down.

CHAPTER II A WIDOW SEEKS REVENGE

Colonel Verney lived for a good part of the year as a grass-widower. That was not because he was lacking in affection for his wife, but both of them had been over forty when they married and she had been loath to give up the charming little villa near St. Raphael, in the South of France, where she had made her home for the previous seven years.

During those years, as Molly Fountain, she had built up a reputation for herself as a very competent writer of adventure stories and her work brought her quite a comfortable income. Had that been added to the Colonel's - since in Britain the incomes of husband and wife are assessed as one for tax purposes - the result would have been that they would have been compelled to pay away a big proportion of their joint earnings in income and super tax. By continuing to be domiciled in different countries they were better off by at least a thousand a year, which more than paid for frequent trips by one or other of them between London and St. Raphael and, moreover, enabled Molly to go on writing her books in the sunny, secluded retreat where inspiration seemed to come to her much more easily than in a city.

The law allowed her to spend up to three months a year in England without becoming liable to tax, and Verney spent his leaves with her in France; added to which his work often necessitated his going to the Continent for consultations with his opposite numbers in other capitals, and sometimes she flew from Nice to Geneva, Paris, Rome or wherever it might be, to be with him. In consequence, a month rarely passed without their being able to have a few nights together or longer sessions of a fortnight or more; and for two middle-aged people, both of whose minds were largely occupied with their work, the arrangement had proved very satisfactory.

Verney, too, was particularly fortunate as by this arrangement he had not even had to forgo the benefit of leaving his bachelor quarters, for a London home where he was made much of. The same month that he had married Molly, her son John had married Ellen Beddows, and Ellen had just inherited a handsome fortune from her father. John was doing well as a junior partner in a firm of interior decorators, but it was Ellen's money that had enabled them to start their married life in much better style than he would have been able to afford.

They had bought one of the delightful new houses that were being built in Dovehouse Street, Chelsea; and behind it, at the far end of a pleasant little paved garden, it had another building which was virtually a self-contained flat. It consisted of a large, lofty studio with a small bedroom, bathroom and tiny kitchenette. As the house itself contained ample accommodation for the young couple, and they both adored C.B., they had insisted that he should come to live in the studio.

This proved an admirable arrangement, for he enjoyed all the amenities of a home without always being on top of them. Moreover, as he continued his old practice of dining two or three nights a week at his club, they could when they wished ask other young couples to dinner without having him too as odd man out; and when they had larger parties he was always happy to place the big studio at their disposal.

It had been on Monday, March 7th, that he had briefed Barney Sullivan, and on the following Sunday afternoon he had just settled himself down in the studio to read the papers, when John Fountain came across, put his head in at the door, and said: 'C.B., a young woman has called and is asking to see you. Her name is Mrs. Morden. What about it?'

With a sigh C.B. lowered the paper. He knew that it must be Teddy Morden's widow, and felt that an interview with her would certainly be most painful for them both, the odds being that she had come to upbraid him for sending her husband to his death; but he quickly resigned himself to it.

'All right, John. I'll see her.'

John gave him a wicked grin. 'She's quite an eyeful - a ravishing blonde. Poor old Mumsie. What's it worth to you for me not to let on to her that you've got yourself a lovely girl-friend?'

C.B. grinned back. 'That's quite enough of that, young feller. Bring her along.'

'O.K. Chief. But my silence will cost you a case of Moet N.V.'

Two minutes later Mrs. Morden stepped across the threshold of C.B.'s spacious book-lined sanctum. From behind her shoulder the irrepressible John winked at C.B. and made the V sign; then he quietly closed the door upon them.

Mary Morden was twenty-three and John had not exaggerated her good looks. A small black hat enhanced the gold of her ripe-corn coloured hair, which she evidently kept long, as it was done up in two thick plaits at the back of her head, leaving fully exposed two unusually pretty little ears. Her eyebrows were rather thick, and she left them like that because they were so fair that, had they been plucked, they would hardly have shown; but below them were two almond-shaped eyes of that deep blue colour which is most usually seen in combination with the dark beauty of an Irish colleen. Her nose was straight, her mouth firm and her pointed chin slightly aggressive. She was fairly tall with a good bust that nicely balanced her hips, and she carried herself well. C.B., who had an eye for such things, decided that her black and white check suit, although it fitted her well, was ready-made; but that her nylons were of fine quality. As she took the chair he placed for her, she crossed a pair of legs of which she had good reason to be proud, and he saw that they ended in small, neat feet.

He had seen her before on two occasions. The last had been at Morden's funeral, and there he had only bowed to her as a veiled, pathetic figure. The first had been when he had had to go down to her flat at Wimbledon to break the news of her husband's death to her. It had been a Monday morning; she had been busy doing the weekly washing, and so had come out from the kitchen with her hair tied up in a scarf, wearing a faded blouse, tight blue jeans and a pair of down-at-heel slippers. She had little make-up on now, but she had had none at all on then, and a wisp of hair that had got loose from under the scarf had given her a slightly sluttish appearance. He had been struck by her fine eyes but failed to realize that she was a beauty before the news he brought confirmed her fears for Teddy, who had not been home since the afternoon of Saturday; upon which she had buried her face in her hands and burst into a passion of tears. To make the horrible job he had to do a little easier, he had first sought out Morden's brother and sister-in-law, and taken them with him. Having told Mrs. Morden of her husband's death as gently as he could, and provided her with ample money to meet any immediate necessities, he had left her with her relations by marriage.

Now, as soon as she was seated, she said briskly: 'I do hope you will forgive me for spoiling your Sunday afternoon like this, Colonel Verney, but I thought it a likely time to catch you and, that in view of what I want to talk to you about, it was better that I should come to your home than to your office.'

'You're not spoiling it,' he assured her with a smile. 'I was only glancing through the papers. I'm glad to see you and, if I may say so, looking so, er . . .'

'You mean recovered from the shock,' she helped him out, 'Well, it's a fortnight now and one can't go on weeping ones eyes out for ever. It was a choice of either letting myself sink into a sort of morbid coma that might have gone on for months, or getting down to something that would occupy my time and mind, and I decided on the latter.'

'Well done you. I'm delighted to hear it.' Offering her his cigarette case, he added: 'Tell me about this job you've got?'

'What lovely long ones.' She took a cigarette and, after he had lit it for her, said: 'I haven't got it yet. That's why I'm here.'

He raised his prawn-like eyebrows a fraction. 'I see. Well, if it's a reference you require I'd be delighted; but if you want me to find you a job that's rather a different matter. Still, if you'll tell me what qualifications you have, I'll do my best to . . .'

'Thanks, but this isn't a case for either. I followed your wishes in telling my friends and neighbours that Teddy died of a heart-attack, but we know that he was murdered. You couldn't have concealed the truth from me, even if you had wanted to, because I had to be given his death certificate. I don't think that by nature I am vindictive, but Teddy meant . . . meant a lot to me. I want to help bring his murderer to justice.'

'That's very understandable,' said C.B. gravely, 'but I'm afraid you would only be wasting your time. The police are doing everything possible, and even with all their resources they haven't yet got a clue.'

'Then that is all the more reason why you should let me try my hand. If in a fortnight they have failed to get anywhere, it means that the trail has gone cold by now, so they are not very likely to. Fresh crimes are calling for the attention of the police every day; so they will give less and less time to Teddy's case, and after another few weeks shelve it.'

'No case is ever closed until the criminal is caught.'

Mary Morden made an impatient gesture. 'No, but after a while the file joins the hundreds of others on unsolved crimes and no one does any more about it.' Her strong jaw hardened suddenly and she added: 'But take me on and that won't happen. I'll stick to it for years if ...'

'Take you on!' C.B. repeated, then he quickly shook his head. 'No, Mrs. Morden, I'm sorry, but that is quite out of the question. Even if I wanted to I couldn't. There are very definite rules governing procedure in my department.'

'Oh, I didn't mean officially. That's why I thought it best to come here to see you. Then no one could suspect that I was working for you. And I don't want any pay. I'm not rolling in money, but I can manage on what I've got.'

For a moment C.B. looked straight at the beautiful earnest face opposite him; then he shook his head again. 'Honestly, it's not possible. For you even to make a start I'd have to disclose to you the mission Teddy was employed upon, and that would mean letting you into all sorts of official secrets. I could lose my job for that. Besides, you would be exposing yourself to grave danger and that's a responsibility I'm not prepared to take.'

She pulled a face, shrugged and made a move to stand up. 'Very well, Colonel Verney, I'm sorry to find you so un-cooperative and sorry to have wasted your time. I'll just have to set about the business on my own.'

'Hey! Wait a mo', lady.' Conky Bill gestured her back into the chair. He was trying desperately to think of some way in which he could dissuade her from entering on an investigation that, at best, would mean months of futile endeavour and, at worst, the chance that she would run up against real trouble which would end in her becoming a lovely corpse.

'Well!' she smiled suddenly. 'Are you thinking of changing your mind?'

'No, M'am,' he replied promptly, getting to his feet. 'And I'm not likely to in a matter like this. I'm just going to make you a cup of tea.'

'That's nice of you,' she conceded, and her smile broadened, showing two rows of strong, even teeth.

He rather prided himself as a brewer of a good cup of tea, and some minutes later he emerged from his kitchenette with a tray on which reposed a pot of Earl Grey, milk, lemon, sugar and a plate of shortbread biscuits. Setting it down he said, 'You must be "mother". Lemon for me and three lumps of sugar.'

As she poured out, he went on, 'So you're going to play the lone wolf, eh? Or rather the unshorn lamb going into the forest to put the fear of God into the great big hairy bears. I've had the best part of thirty years at the game, but most times I've gone in a tank with plenty of air cover. All the same, I still look on myself as a learner, and I'd be awfully interested to hear how you propose to set about it.'

She passed him his cup. 'Elementary, my dear Watson! I shall find out all I can about everyone with whom Teddy had anything to do these past few months.'

'Did he tell you anything about the job he was on?'

'No, not a thing. He was terribly security-minded.'

'Then that won't get you anywhere; because you can have no line on the people he was after.'

'You can't be certain that it won't. And I have got one line that might lead to something. It wasn't at all in keeping with his character, but some time back he suddenly became deeply interested in Spiritualism.'

Had it not been for his long training at suppressing all signs of emotion while interrogating people, C.B. might well have dropped his tea-cup. As it was his long face remained impassive as he said, 'Really; and he made no secret about that?'

'He would have, but a mutual friend of ours happened to see him at a seance, and told me about it. When I tackled him he came clean and admitted that he had been to several. I tried to persuade him to drop it. After all, his work took him out at night often enough without his spending an evening or two a week attending seances. Besides, I am a Roman Catholic. Not a very good one, I'm afraid. In fact, we were married at a Registry Office and I haven't been inside a church for years. All the same, I still believe in its teaching, and that Spiritualism is wrong. Teddy knew that, of course; otherwise he would probably have suggested my going with him. As it was, he seemed absolutely fascinated by this new interest. He wouldn't listen to me and continued to go to the meetings in spite of all I could say.'

'But what leads you to think that his interest in Spiritualism had any bearing on his death?'

Mary Morden's fair eyelashes fluttered and for a moment veiled her deep blue eyes as she replied, a shade uncomfortably: 'Because there was something behind it - something very unpleasant.'

C.B. had to keep a tight hold on himself in order not to show the intense interest which gripped him as he asked in his low voice: 'What sort of thing?'

'I don't really know. Teddy used to talk in his sleep. He never gave away any office secrets, and mostly it was incoherent muttering. But during the last few weeks he began to have nightmares. He seemed to be struggling in a sort of medieval hell. He raved about the Devil taking the form of a small black imp, and of a Temple where animals were sacrificed. An Indian was mixed up in it, and someone whom he referred to as "the Master". When he woke from these nightmares, or I woke him, he was drenched in sweat. But he wouldn't tell me their cause. He used to shrug them off by saying that he was making a study of the occult and had been reading a lot about the bad side of it.'

'That may have been true. On the other hand, one can't rule out the possibility that he had got in with some bad hats at these seances and that they introduced him into a Black Magic circle.'

'That's what I think.'

'And you intend to follow this up?'

'Yes.'

For a moment C.B. was silent. All she had said fitted in so well with his own theory of what lay behind Morden's death that he was greatly tempted to tell her to go ahead. Yet few people knew better than he did the terrible danger to which she would be exposing herself if she did. Having decided that he must do his best to stop her, he said:

'Listen, lady. In my work I've been up against this sort of thing before; yet I've never succeeded in bringing a big Black to justice. They are incredibly cunning and utterly unscrupulous. If I, with all the resources of my department, can't get the goods on them, how can you, a woman working on her own, hope to? Supposing you are right, you'll get no further than the fringe of it; then they'll catch you out, and the odds are that you'll end up as poor Teddy did. It isn't on! You've got to put this idea right out of your head.'

She gave a slight shrug. 'Of course there's a risk. I know that. But in my case I think you exaggerate. If these people did kill Teddy, it must have been because one of them found out that he was working for you. As you have turned me down that could not apply to me. Anyway, I'm a free agent, and, if I choose to do this, you can't stop me.'

'No, I can't. But I can give you some idea of the sort of situation you will be faced with from the very start.'

'I'd be interested to hear it.'

'Well, all Black Magic rituals are based on sex or, to use more appropriate words, unbridled lust, perversion and obscenity. If you ever succeed in getting inside a Satanic Temple, you will be expected to witness and applaud acts which would turn the stomach of a member of the vice-squad, let alone a decent young woman like yourself. But that would be only after your own initiation. And that's the hurdle you'd have to take before you could get anywhere. You don't need me to tell you what a lovely person you are, and they are not going to give you a ring-side seat for nowt. Your entry ticket would be having to give yourself to the man who introduced you into the circle.'

Mary Morden dropped her eyes again. 'I can only hope that he wouldn't be too repulsive.'

'What!' C.B. sat forward suddenly. 'D'you mean you would?'

'Yes.' She looked up and met his glance squarely. 'I'd better be frank with you, Colonel Verney. I grew up in the back streets of Dublin and became a cabaret girl. For reasons with which I won't bother you there came a time when I had to have more money than my pay. Cabaret girls get plenty of opportunities to earn money the so-called easy way, and those who do don't think of themselves as prostitutes. But, to be brutally honest, that's what I was for the best part of a year. And, believe me, even with girls such as I was, who don't have to go to bed with every man who asks them to, it's not easy money. There are times when men who seem to be decent sorts turn out to be absolute swine, and to earn a few pounds that way is like suddenly finding oneself in hell.

'Four years ago Teddy took me out of that. He knew the sort of life I had been leading, but all the same he married me. I'm not going to tell you that he was my one great love. The fact is, I've never had one; but I was terribly fond of him. He gave me security, a decent home, respectability, everything that any reasonable woman could want except a child, and I made him a good and faithful wife.

'But now that is all over. I've no family. I'm on my own again. With his pension and a little capital he inherited from an uncle I'll be free from want; but by killing Teddy some fiend robbed the world of an honest, decent, kindly man, and robbed me of everything that made life worth while. So I'll not stick at using my looks, and my body too, if need be, in an attempt to get even with his murderer.'

For a moment C.B. was silent again, then he said: 'If that's the case, Mrs. Morden, there's no more I can say; except to express my admiration for your determination and courage.'

'Thank you,' she said gravely. 'I'm glad my confession hasn't made you think too badly of me.'

'Far from it. None of us has much choice about the sort of life we have to lead when we are young; and, frankly, it is a small grain of comfort to me to know that at least you are prepared for the sort of thing it's certain you'll have to face.'

'That's that, then.' She picked up her bag. 'Well, I won't keep you any longer. Thank you for seeing me and giving me such a nice tea.'

Waving her back, he said: 'No, don't go yet. Although I can't give you any official help, maybe I can suggest a way to lessen these risks you are determined to run.'

Her mouth twitched in a faint smile. 'I'll bet that it is to try to make myself look old and unattractive.'

He laughed. 'No; there would be no chance of your succeeding in that. Even a make-up expert couldn't alter your face enough for people not to detect at close quarters that it was a painted mask. Then, how about your figure, and those legs? But I was thinking of the risk to your life, not to your, er - virtue. You won't be able to disguise the fact that you are an extremely attractive young woman, but you could radically alter your appearance and give yourself a different type of beauty.'

'What would be the point of that?'

C.B. put his index finger alongside his big aggressive nose and spoke almost in a whisper. 'Before poor Teddy was done in you can be certain that the people who did the job first found out all they could about him. From the moment they began to suspect that he was spying on them they would have had him followed. That would have led them to his home. It is a thousand quid to a rotten apple that they know you and all about you. The moment you went among them - that is, as your natural self- they would recognize you and realize that you were on their track. Then your number would be up before you had even started. If you are to stand any chance at all you must assume a completely new identity.'

'I see. Yes, of course, you are right. Well, I'll turn myself into a brunette, change my hair-style and do everything else I can think of to alter my appearance.'

'Good! But that is not enough. You must also change your place of residence and live in new quarters under a different name. Would that be difficult for you? I mean, although you tell me you have no family of your own, there are your in-laws. Could you think of a plausible excuse for going away for a while without leaving them your address?�

Mary's mouth tightened, and her voice held a trace' of bitterness. 'I won't have to think up an excuse. Teddy's people are the worst type of middle-class snobs. God knows, I've done nothing to antagonize them. It is just that they had pinned their hopes on Teddy marrying some little piece vaguely connected with the peerage, or at least a girl whose parents had money; and I didn't fit into either category. They had no time for me from the beginning and if I took a running jump into a pond tonight, it wouldn't cost any of them a wink of sleep. I have only to shut up the flat and give out that I'm going back to Ireland for the Mordens to count themselves well rid of me.'

'I would advise you to do that then. Move into furnished rooms or a small hotel in some district where you know no one. Take a new name and open an account in it at a local bank, then instruct your own to pay your funds into it as required and to forward your letters there enclosed in envelopes bearing the name you have taken. Shut yourself off as completely as you can from all past associations, and communicate with no one. That includes myself. If these people know that Teddy was working for me they may be watching this place; so don't come here again or to the office, or telephone either. That is unless one of two things happens. One, you have succeeded in getting something definite for me to act on; two, you believe yourself to be in danger of your life. In the latter case, evidence or no evidence, you can count on me to come with all the King's horses and all the King's men racing to your rescue.'

'Thank you, Colonel Verney. I don't expect you will hear any more of me for quite a time; but when you do, I only hope it will be on the first count and not the last. You've been very kind, and at least I can promise not to call for your help without good reason.'

Five minutes later he let her out of the side door into the narrow alley that ran between the studio and the garden of the house next door. As he watched her, a trim figure, head held high, walking with firm step swiftly away, he wished more than ever that he had been able to dissuade her from entering on this dangerous undertaking, or at least to give her some protection.

Back in his armchair he pondered for a long while whether he should pass on to Barney Sullivan what she had told him, inform him of her intentions, and tell him to co-operate with her. But, each working on his own, neither could bring the other into danger, and they provided two sources through either of which he might learn the truth about the murder of Teddy Morden; whereas, if they were associated, should one become suspect, the other would also. So he decided against letting Barney know anything about Mary's proposed activities.

It was a decision that he was to look back on later with bitter regret.

CHAPTER III A SCIENTIST BECOMES QUEER

It was three weeks later - to be exact, late in the afternoon on Monday, April 4th - that Colonel Verney received a visit from Squadron Leader Forsby. They were old friends as they had worked together during the war, and afterwards Forsby had been seconded to special Security duties. For the past two years he had been responsible for security at the Long Range Rocket Experimental Establishment, which was situated on a lonely stretch of coast down in Wales.

The Squadron Leader was a small, grey-haired man with a kindly face and a deceptively meek manner, for he could be extremely tough when the necessity arose. As he set down his brief case and took a chair, Verney said: 'Glad to see you, Dick. What sort of trouble has brought you up to the great big wicked city?'

'It's a funny one, C.B.,' the little man replied. 'May be nothing in it, maybe a lot. One of my science babies has gone a bit queer.'

'I thought they were all slightly nuts, anyhow.'

Forsby smiled. 'They're a special breed and live in a different world from us. Ethically many of them are quite irresponsible; but this is a bit out of series.'

'Don't tell me we've got another Nunn May or Fuchs on our hands!'

'I hope not, but he just might be. His name is Otto Khune. He's of German extraction but born American, in Chicago. In 1945 he married an English wife. She was a young Wren signals officer, and they met while she was doing a tour of duty at one of the Naval repair bases that we set up in the U.S. during the war. Evidently she didn't fancy the idea of living in the States, as they both came to England in 1946, and he took British nationality. As he had already been working for the Yanks on Rocket projects, and was fully vouched for, he was given a job by the Ministry of Supply; but the marriage didn't last. His wife divorced him in 1951. His speciality is fuels, and for the past eighteen months he has been top man in that line at the Station.'

'What's he been up to?'

'Nothing. It is simply that his colleagues are worried about his mental state. They all have their own quarters, of course, but the unattached ones feed and spend a good part of their leisure hours in a mess. For some weeks past Khune's behaviour there, particularly when it is getting late at night, has puzzled the others. They say that for short periods he talks and behaves as though he were an entirely different person. Did you happen to read that book The Three Faces of Eve?�

C.B. shook his head. 'No, but I heard several people talk about it. I gather it was a report by two professional psychiatrists on an American woman who suffered from split personality.'

'That's right. I found it absolutely fascinating. Normally she was a prudish, dowdy little housewife with a shy, retiring nature, but at times she changed into a gay, bawdy-minded, come-hither girl, bought herself expensive clothes, made herself up fit to kill and went out to hit up the night spots. Then a third individuality emerged when she appeared to be a grave, sensible, responsible woman. And these changes in personality took place not once, but many times actually under the eyes of the men who were examining her; so one can hardly write the whole thing off as a hoax.'

'No, schizophrenia is a mental state now fully accepted by the medical profession. If that's the trouble with this chap Khune, I take it your worry is that while dominated by this new personality he may commit some breach of security?'

'Exactly. When in his normal state we have every reason to believe him to be a patriotic naturalized Briton, but when he has these queer fits he appears to be anything but that. The sort of thing he says is that the only hope for the world is a new deal, starting with the elimination of all the old Imperialist and Capitalist governments; that the United States' oil interests and big business are at the bottom of all the ills that are afflicting mankind, and that true freedom for the individual can only be achieved by complete equality for all.'

'That sounds like the old Communist gags. Do you think he is being got at by the Russians?'

'Maybe, but somehow I don't think it's that. His ideas seem to be more on the old anarchist lines�the complete abolition of all rule with everyone muddling along in little share-and-share alike communities. Anyhow, as he was away this weekend, I decided, on the off-chance that he is in communication with some no-goods and that I might find something that would throw light on the matter, to search his quarters.' Forsby opened his brief-case and taking from it a typescript, added: 'There was nothing of any interest among his correspondence, but in his desk I found a document in his writing, and this is a copy that I took of it.'

Verney put on his spectacles, spread out the paper and read:

I, Otto Helmuth Khune, am making this statement of my free will and while of sound mind in case anything should happen to me, or my sanity later be questioned.

I was born in Chicago on February 8th, 1918, of naturalized American parents who had immigrated from Germany in 1910. They had had six children before the birth of myself and my brother Lothar, we two being my mother's third set of twins. Of the others, three died in infancy, or early childhood, and neither pair of twins was identical, whereas Lothar and I were.

We were the last children born to my parents and the three earlier ones who survived were all girls. One met her death in a fire in 1933, the two others married and live in Detroit and Philadelphia respectively. It is now nearly fifteen years since I have seen either of them and neither plays any part in the matter of which I am about to give an account. Both my parents are now dead.

When I state that Lothar and I are identical twins, I mean that literally. Our physical resemblance was so exact that even people who knew us intimately, at times mistook one of us for the other. Mentally, too, we were extraordinarily alike. We had the same tastes in food, recreations and clothes, and almost invariably shared our likes or dislikes of people. As we grew into our 'teens the latter trait began to show some divergence, but mentally we continued to be remarkably attuned.

Neither of us had any difficulty in reading the other's thoughts and frequently we started to say the same thing at the same moment, so that the similarity of our minds became a joke among our acquaintances. The bond was still closer than that for, if one of us felt ill, the other invariably was, almost at once, subject to the same symptoms. This even extended to the demonstrably physical. On one occasion in a fight at school I had my eye blacked; Lothar felt the blow and soon after his eye also closed and coloured up. On another he fell and broke his ankle, upon which I suffered such acute pain in mine that I had to have the same treatment for such a mishap.

Another thing that we had in common was a highly developed psychic sense. It is said that the seventh child of a seventh child is often endowed in this way; and Lothar and I stood in this relation to my mother, who had been a seventh child. She, too, was psychic to some degree. To a limited extent she could see things in a crystal and tell fortunes by cards, and she had had several death warnings that proved true foreknowledge of the event. But her psychic faculties were not so highly developed as those of Lothar and myself.

We could assess people's characters by the colour of the auras round their heads, which are invisible to the great majority of persons, but were perfectly visible to us. We had hunches about matters which would affect ourselves that invariably proved correct, and could often foretell good or ill fortune that would come to our friends.

We could ''see' things. Our first experience of this was when we were quite young, and was the spirit-form of a dog with which we used to play, without thinking there was anything strange about it, in our bedroom at night. Later we saw several ghosts, and for that reason neither of us would ever pass a cemetery after dark, although in due course we found out that ghosts are more generally pathetic than malignant.

These psychic faculties came to us quite naturally. When young we accepted them as normal and made no special effort to develop them, except in one particular; this was the ability to hypnotize. Both of us possessed it, but Lothar in a much greater degree than myself; perhaps because from the beginning he used to practise on me. To incite me to do ordinary things in this way was, of course, easy, because without any special effort he was able to convey to me his thoughts. But the test of his powers came when he willed me to do things that I was naturally averse to doing. Often he failed, but he was extraordinarily persistent and gradually he gained an ascendancy over me in all things except matters about which I felt particularly strongly.

Lothar and I were both clever and ambitious. We did well at school and later secured degrees with honours in maths and chemistry at the University of Chicago. Our father had been a young professor of mathematics at Leipzig before he decided to emigrate, and afterwards held a post as a senior examiner in the employ of the Chicago Schools Board. In our early days we owed a lot to his private tuition but in due course we entered fields which were beyond his sphere, and after we had taken our finals promising careers were open to both of us.

I secured a well-paid appointment with Weltwerk Schonheim Inc., the big industrial chemists, but Lothar, to most people's surprise -as such posts are not well paid - accepted a junior professorship at the University. His reason for doing so was, however, no secret from me. Beyond all things he loved power; and whereas had he gone into industry he would, for some years at least, have had to knuckle under to his seniors, by becoming a professor he at once achieved a position in which he was able to dominate and mould the minds of a group of mostly intelligent young people.

In the mid-1950s, while still in our 'teens, we had both become members of the Youth Corps of the Deutscher Bund, which was particularly strong in Chicago and was then rapidly expanding there, owing to the vigorous activities of a group of pro-Nazis. Lothar rapidly became prominent among them and by the time the war broke out in Europe, our age then being twenty-one, he was recognized as one of its leaders!

Naturally our sympathies were with Germany, but Lothar felt much more strongly on the matter than I did. He threw himself into a campaign aimed at giving Germany all the help that was possible; whereas my attitude was isolationist, and I maintained that as American citizens we ought to use such influence as we possessed to keep the United States strictly neutral.

In America the repercussions of Pearl Harbour were terrific. Isolationism disappeared overnight and almost to a man the people were behind the Government in its declaration of war on Japan. But in Chicago opinion was far from being so unanimous about the U.S. also entering the war against Germany. On this, for the first time in our lives, Lothar and I not only differed fundamentally, but quarrelled violently. I held that, although it might be distasteful to us, our duty lay in loyalty to the United States and, if need be, we must fight for the country in which we had been born and reared and under whose just laws we had been enabled to earn an honourable living. He held that blood counted for more than the accident of being born outside Germany, that in the triumph of the Nazi ideology lay the only cure for the decadence which infested the great democracies, and that it would be shameful to cling to our easy way of life instead of doing our utmost to help Hitler in his struggle. In short, the United States having declared war on Germany, he declared himself to be personally at war with the United States.

Of course, he was not such a fool as to say so openly, but he obtained exemption from continuing his lectures at the University on the excuse that he intended to join the U.S. Air Force, and shortly afterwards disappeared from Chicago.

The telepathic tie that united us kept me to some extent informed about him as, from time to time when I happened to think of him, I had visual images of his surroundings and people he was with. I felt certain that he had gone to South America and from there, via North Africa and Italy, succeeded in reaching Germany.

Then I saw him working on graphs and scientific data in one of many cubicles that formed a concrete warren underground. One night when I had just got off to sleep, I woke with a start to find myself actually with him. At least that is what it seemed like. He, or I, for I suddenly realized that my ego had got into his body, was lying flat on the ground in pitch darkness. But the darkness lasted only a second, then I was aware of a hideous din and blinding flashes momentarily lighting up the scene all round. I knew then that I was in the middle of an appalling air-raid and that he had been knocked out by blast. The flashes showed a flat countryside, broken only by some groups of hutments and several long mounds with concrete entrances. I was absolutely terrified, but I picked myself up, ran like a hare for the nearest bunker and threw myself inside. In my panic I tripped, went head over heels down the steep stairs and knocked myself out at the bottom.

When I came to I was back in bed in Chicago, feeling like death and with frightful bruises on my head and body. Next day I heard over the radio about the great air-raid on the German Research Works at Peenemunde, and I had no doubt at all that it was there that I had been. I can only imagine that in the instant Lothar passed out he sent a spiritual SOS to me and that on finding his body empty I entered and saved it.

On another night during the final phase of the war, Lothar called me to him. By then, of course, I had long-since realized that he was one of the scientists working on Long Range Rockets, as at times I had had brief visions of him both at work and taking his pleasure with several different German girls who had jobs at the Establishment. Owing to his hypnotic powers, few women could resist him; but his mind was always too much occupied with serious matters for him to become a slave to that sort of thing, and it has no bearing on what followed.

I think it was again fear that had caused him to call for me, but there was nothing I could have done to help him on this occasion, for he was fully conscious and I remained only an invisible presence by his side, sharing his desperate anxiety. The Russians had just surrounded the Station and entered it, and he was terrified that they would shoot him. But they didn't. They marched him off with a number of other scientists to a railway siding and they were all locked into cattle-trucks.

This experience had no more immediate effect on me than others when I had had mental pictures of Lothar in all sorts of situations, pleasant and unpleasant; but during the next few weeks I became unaccountably ill and suffered from bouts of acute depression. Normal grounds for depression I had none. On the contrary, I had every reason to be extremely happy as, only a few months earlier, I had married Dinah Charnwell, a lovely English girl with whom I was passionately in love, and I had no financial or other worries. The reason for my wretched state was undoubtedly my picking up Lothar's vibrations while, half-starved and desperately uncertain about his future, he was being transported as a prisoner by slow stages into Russia.

By midsummer I began to recover. Subconsciously I was aware that he was receiving better treatment, and not long afterwards, in a dream in which we met, he told me that he had become completely reconciled to putting his knowledge and abilities at the service of the Soviet Union.

I should make it plain that during all this time neither I, my family, nor anyone else with whom we were acquainted had heard from Lothar direct, or through any other source. Yet, when I did meet him again, on his coming to London in 1950, he confirmed that all I had learned of his activities through our psychic tie-up was substantially correct, and I found that in a like manner he had followed the general outline of what had been happening to me.

Of that visit of his to London I will postpone writing for the time being, as I am too tired to write much more for the moment. In due course I will include an account of it in a further passage of this document, since I intend to continue it as a record of the mental disturbances with which I have recently become afflicted. I will confine myself now to stating that I feel certain that Lothar is again in England, and that for some sinister purpose of his own he is endeavouring to dominate my mentality. But I will not allow him to succeed. I will not.

'Extraordinary story,' C.B. commented as he laid the document down. 'D'you think there's any truth in it, or that he's just got bats in the belfry?'

'It's true as far as I've been able to check up,' replied Forsby. 'I looked in at the Ministry of Supply before coming here and got them to show me the confidential report that was compiled on Khune when he applied to be taken on for the sort of hush-hush work he's still doing. Most of it was from American sources. It confirms what he says of his family and early life in Chicago, and that he had an identical twin named Lothar. It also confirms that Lothar disappeared from Chicago early in 1942, and states that as he was known to be a rabid Nazi it was suspected that he had left the U.S. with the intention of joining the enemy. The close association of the twins up to that time led the F.B.I, to keep our man under careful observation for a while, but they satisfied themselves that he and his family had lost touch with Lothar; so he was written off as a security risk and O.K'd. for employment in a Government Research Establishment. By the time our Ministry of Supply came into the picture he was married to an English girl, had taken British nationality, and the war with Germany was over; so, without hesitation, he was accepted for secret work.'

'Then it's on the cards that the rest of his story may be true. Telepathy has been scientifically proved beyond question, and it's common knowledge that twins are apt to develop that faculty between themselves much more readily than other people.'

That's so; but this business of one showing the physical marks of injuries received by the other takes a bit of believing.'

C.B. pulled thoughtfully on his thin-stemmed pipe. 'I think one must admit that it is possible. Mental disturbances can certainly produce physical results. There have been plenty of cases in which neurotic young women have believed themselves pregnant and shown all the symptoms, until a doctor has been called in and examination shown that their swollen tummies contained nothing but a bubble of air. One can't laugh off the religious fanatics, either. There are numerous well-authenticated accounts of nuns who from intense concentration on our Lord's crucifixion have developed stigmata - actual wounds in the palms of their hands and on their insteps, similar to those suffered by Jesus when he was nailed to the cross.'

'Yes, I hadn't thought of that; and, of course, you are .right. That certainly makes Khune's story more plausible. Anyhow, we must play for safety by assuming that his brother is trying to get at him, and that makes him a security risk. How do you suggest that I should handle the matter?'

'I don't see that there is much we can do at the moment.'

Forsby smiled. 'Neither do I. That's why I came to you. The work he is doing is too important for me to persuade the Director to take him off it without a much more down-to-earth case than this.'

'I wouldn't advise that, anyway, for the moment. "Satan still finds evil work for idle hands", etc. Much better to keep his mind occupied as much as possible. Naturally you'll keep him under observation. If you think he is likely to give us real trouble you could use these dual personality fits of his as an excuse to have him vetted by the medicos, and get them to lay him off. But if he only continues to simmer, take no action except to try to get hold of the next chunk of this statement that he is writing. From it we might get a bit more data on this Nazi-cum-Bolshie twin of his, Lothar. He sounds a dangerous type, and if he really has come to England the odds are that he's up to no good; so we must do our best to locate and keep an eye on him.'

'Right-o!' Forsby stood up. 'I'll be off now, then, C.B. I've made an early drinks date as well as a dinner date with old friends for this evening, as I so seldom get up from Wales.'

On the following afternoon Verney had a talk with Barney Sullivan. The latter had already put in three progress reports and C.B. had sent for him to discuss the latest. Together they went through it.

Provided as he had been by the office with Union cards and a suitable identity, Barney had met with no difficulty in attending a number of branch meetings, presenting himself in each case as having just moved into the district and wishing to make his number before actually taking a job; and the Communist Party ticket he carried had enabled him to get acquainted with several Union officials who were known Reds. Ample money to stand rounds of drinks to such gentry after the meetings, and his vital personality, were now leading them to treat this new Comrade from Ireland as one of themselves and to talk fairly freely about Party matters with him.

His principal discovery so far had been that the Communists were far from happy about the way their affairs were going. The savage suppression by the Russians of the Hungarian uprising had proved a serious blow to them and cost them several thousand members. During the many months that had since elapsed, although they had worked extremely hard, they had not yet succeeded in making up the loss. For this they were able to take some consolation from the fact that they had engineered many unofficial strikes and that their plans for infiltrating into Union offices had gone better than might have been expected; but now, suddenly, this latter most important item on their programme had become subject to a serious threat.

For many years past the post of General Secretary to the great C.G.T. had been held by a Communist. In a month's time he was due to stand for re-election and a vigorous labour leader named Tom Ruddy, who held strong anti-Communist views, had been nominated to stand against him. Ruddy was far from being a newcomer to labour politics or a nonentity. Although, in 1939 past his first youth, instead of remaining at home in protected employment he had wangled his way into the Army, become a sergeant-major and been decorated with the D.C.M. for knocking out one of Rommel's tanks in Africa. After the war he had stood for Parliament, got in, and made quite a name for himself as a Socialist with plenty of sound common sense; then, on losing his seat in the 1951 election, he had resumed his work as a Union official and steadily mounted in the esteem of his more responsible colleagues. His war record guaranteed him the support of the greater part of the old soldiers in his union; he was a good speaker, had a bluff, forthright manner, and a sense of humour.

All this added up to make him such a popular figure that the Communists were beginning to fear that, in spite of all the secret machinations they might employ, by mid-May it was highly possible that he would have ousted their own man from the key post in the C.G.T. And their anxiety did not end there; for they were afraid that, if Ruddy proved victorious, it would have widespread repercussions throughout the whole Labour movement, leading to many other Communists losing future elections to their opponents. Verney naturally knew of Tom Ruddy and the forthcoming election, but he was surprised and pleased to hear that Ruddy's prospects seemed so good, and he urged Barney to keep his ears well open for any plot that might be brewing to sabotage Ruddy's chances.

They spent the next half-hour going through a list of the Communists with whom Barney had got into touch at branches of other Unions. In some cases he had been able to pick up small items of information about their private lives which would be added to their dossiers; about others C.B. was able to pass on to him further particulars that might be helpful which had been brought in by the department's network since Barney had started on his mission. Both of them knew that it was this careful collation of a mass of detail, rather than some spectacular break, that usually brought results in the long run.

When they had finished, the Colonel leant back and said: 'I take it you haven't tumbled on anything which might give us a line on poor Morden's killers?�

'Well . . .' Barney hesitated. 'Not exactly.' 'Come young feller!' For once C.B.'s voice held a suggestion of asperity. 'That's no reply. Yes or no?�

Barney pulled a face. 'Sorry, Sir. I ought to have known better than to hedge with you. But it's such an unlikely bet that I thought you might think I'd gone a bit goofy and was wasting my time.' Nothing's unlikely in this business. Let's have it.' 'Well, last week I thought I'd go down to Wimbledon and call on Mrs. Morden. I've never met her, but I intended to introduce myself as a member of the firm and say that I'd been sent along to enquire how she was bearing up, and if there was any way in which we could be of help to her. My idea was that now five weeks have elapsed since her husband's death she might be sufficiently recovered from the shock not to mind talking about him, and she might say something about him that hadn't seemed to her to have any bearing on the case, but would to me.' Verney nodded. 'Good idea. What came of it?' 'She wasn't there. I got it from her neighbours on the other side of the landing that nearly three weeks ago she shut up her flat and went off to Ireland without leaving an address.'

'I see.' To himself, C.B. was thinking, 'So my warning about what she'd be up against didn't shake her, and she's probably putting her lovely head into some hornets' nest by now. Anyhow, it's some comfort that she's taken my advice about going somewhere else to live and severed the ties by which she could be connected with Morden.' Aloud, he added: 'It was from her neighbours you picked up a lead, then?'

'No. It so happened that, while I was still talking to the woman across the landing, the local parson put in an appearance. He had come to call on Mrs. M. for the same sort of reason that I had intended to give. Having drawn a blank we went downstairs together and I offered to give him a lift back to his vicarage in my car. Naturally, we discussed Morden's tragically early death in general terms and it transpired that up to a few months ago he looked on Teddy as one of the ewe-lambs of his parish. Mrs. M. is an R.C. so he hardly knew her. That's why he hadn't called before; and he'd done so then only as a Christian act, to see if she was getting over things all right. But Teddy had been brought up as a staunch Protestant and, although he married out of his own Church, he had continued to attend it regularly and to act as a sidesman.'

Barney paused and ran a hand through his mop of short dark curls. 'That is, up to a few months ago; but quite suddenly he stopped going. At first the padre thought he must be away on holiday, but he ran into him one evening, learnt that he had not been away and naturally enquired the reason for his backsliding. Teddy seemed a bit embarrassed but was persuaded to come to the vicarage for a glass of sherry; then he came clean. Apparently he had become a Theosophist, and could no longer fully believe in the doctrines of the Church.'

Instantly Verney's interest quickened, but he only said: 'That certainly sounds rather queer in a well-balanced chap like Morden. Where do we go from there?'

'The padre tried to argue him out of it; but Teddy wouldn't budge. Apparently he had been attending a course of lectures and seances. He maintained that the things that took place there could not be faked, and he was convinced that the Theosophists held the true key to the after-life. As luck would have it, he mentioned the name of the woman who runs the circle at which these miracles are performed, and the padre remembered it. She is a Mrs. Wardeel.'

'Have you managed to trace her?'

'Yes, Sir. I got her address through the Society for Psychical Research. It is 204 Barkston Gardens. I gathered from the man I got her address from that Theosophists and Spiritualists don't usually hold the same beliefs; but this Mrs. Wardeel seems to be running a cult of her own that combines the two, as at her meetings lectures on the theory of the thing are followed by actual demonstrations of being able to get into touch with the spirit world.' 'And you intend to follow this up?'

'I shall if you don't think it a waste of time Sir. Actually I wrote off to Mrs. Wardeel at once and asked if I could attend one of her meetings. As I couldn't provide any introduction, I thought she might prove a bit cagey about letting a stranger into these mysteries; so I took your tip about using my title to add a bit of snob value to my request. Anyhow, it worked. I had a typed letter back from her secretary saying that Mrs. Wardeel was always happy to spread enlightenment among people of sufficient education to be fitted to receive it, and that I should send a cheque for five guineas as the fee for a course of six lectures. I sent my cheque, and the first is tonight.'

'Go, by all means,' smiled C.B. 'It might lead to something; one never can tell. I wonder, though,' he added after a moment, 'what the real explanation is about Morden. Did he really get bitten with this mumbo-jumbo, or did he deliberately desert his Church because he thought he was being watched and wanted to convince these people that he had fallen completely for the line they were selling him?'

Barney shook his curly head. 'I fear that's a thing that now we'll never know.'

'True enough, young feller. Anyway, don't let them turn you into a spook addict.'

'No fear of that, Sir,' Barney grinned. 'The odds are, though, that I'll get no more than a good laugh over the fun and games by which a few small-time crooks make a living out of the bunch of loonies that I'll find at this place tonight.'

When Barney had gone, Verney took from a drawer in his desk the photograph of Teddy Morden's body. After, staring at it for a moment, he thought to himself: 'It ties up. The moment Mary Morden told me about these seances, I felt certain it tied up. She doesn't stand much chance, poor kid; but, if Barney's as astute as I believe him to be, we'll get Morden's murderers yet.'

CHAPTER IV OUT OF THE PAST

That evening Fate took a hand, for it was decreed that a few minutes before eight o'clock Barney Sullivan and Mary Morden should meet on the doorstep of 204 Barkston Gardens.

They had approached from different directions and, until they came face to face, she noticed him only as a youngish man wearing a soft hat and a loose-fitting grey tweed overcoat that hung from broad shoulders, while he registered her as a tallish girl with her head well up and a fine springy walk. Then, as they turned together into the square brick porch, the electric light in its roof suddenly revealed clearly to each the face of the other.

Barney had no more than a vague feeling that he had seen Mary somewhere before; after which his mind switched almost instantly to speculate on why such a good-looking young woman should be dabbling in spiritualism instead of spending her evening at some cheerful party, or dining and dancing with a boy-friend.

That he did not know her again was perfectly understandable; for, apart from the fact that it was five years since they had met, Mary had changed her appearance in every way that was possible. Her smooth plaits had gone; she now wore her hair shoulder length and curled at the ends, and had had it dyed a rich, dark brown. Her thickish eyebrows had also been dyed, and plucked so that they remained fairly thick at the inner ends but tapered away to points which gave the impression that they turned up slightly at the ends. She was wearing more make-up: a much heavier shade of powder, that gave her fair skin the bronze tint of a brunette who has recently been sun-bathing, mascara on her lashes, eye-shadow, and a magenta lip-stick with which she had succeeded in changing a little the shape of her mouth. Her experience of making up while in cabaret had stood her in good stead, and even her ex-neighbours at Wimbledon would have been unlikely to recognize the quietly turned out Mrs. Morden in-this new presentation by which she had deprived herself of her golden hair, but become much more of a femme fatale.

On the other hand, at the first glance, Mary recognized Barney and her heart gave a jump that seemed to bring it right up into her mouth. Her face would have betrayed her had he not at that moment turned to ring the front-door bell. It was answered almost immediately by an elderly woman servant. Barney politely stepped aside for Mary to enter, then followed her in.

As the servant took his coat and hat, Mary walked on towards a middle-aged woman who was standing in the middle of the square hall. She was a large lady with a big bust on which dangled several necklaces of semi-precious stones. From her broad, flat face several chins sloped down into a thick neck, the whole being heavily powdered. Her eyes were a very light blue and unusually widely spaced. Upon her head was piled an elaborate structure of brassy curls, and her whole appearance suggested to Barney the type of rich Edwardian widow whose Mecca used to be the Palm Courts of Grand Hotels. He assumed, rightly, that she was Mrs. Wardeel.

To Mary she extended, held high, a carefully manicured and heavily beringed hand, as she said in a deep voice: 'Ah, Mrs. Mauriac; or perhaps, now that you have become a regular attendant at our little gatherings, you will allow me to call you Margot?'

'So, she is French,' Barney was thinking. But actually Mary had been mainly governed in the choice of a nom de guerre by making it fit with the initials on her handbags, and other personal belongings, that it would have been a nuisance to have to alter. It was only as an afterthought that it occurred to her that, as she had to take another name for a while, it would be rather fun to assume the sort of one that might have been chosen for a foreign film-star. Meanwhile, Mrs. Wardeel continued to gush at her.

'You know, I always take a special interest in the young who seek the great truths - young physically, I mean; for, of course, we are all young whenever we get away from these wretched bodies that anchor us here. Not, of course, my dear that that applies to you. But there is no escape from the advancing years, is there? And for the young to learn early that they will never really grow old is such a marvellous protection against the time when one's looks begin to fade. I am sure that one of the Masters must have you in his particular care to have guided you to us so early in your present incarnation.'

As Mary smiled and murmured a few appropriate words, Barney came up behind her. Mrs. Wardeel turned to him, again offered the beringed hand, and made a gracious inclination of her big synthetically-gold-crowned head.

'Ah; and now a new seeker after the Light. But we have two tonight. Are you Mr. Betterton or Lord Larne?�

Barney pressed the slightly flabby fingers and replied with a gravity that he felt the occasion called for. 'I'm Lord Larne, and I am most grateful to you for allowing me to - er - come here and learn about the sort of things that really matter.'

'You are welcome,' she said in her deep voice. 'I welcome you in the name of the Masters. All who come here are sent by them; but only upon trial. Do not expect too much at once. Those who show scepticism and demand proof for everything reveal by that that they are not yet sufficiently advanced to be worthy of approaching the higher spheres. But, if you are patient and receptive, stage by stage the great truths will be unveiled to you.'

Three more people had arrived so, turning to Mary, she added, 'Mrs. Mauriac, would you take our new friend, Lord Larne, through to the meeting room?'

Mary's heart was still pounding, but her face now showed nothing of her inward agitation. On Mrs. Wardeel's introducing her to Barney, they exchanged a conventional smile, then walked side by side towards a room at the back of the house. As they did so, she was wondering what could possibly have brought to such a gathering the type of man she knew him to be, and, even more extraordinary, why he should be using a title to which she believed he had no right.

The room they entered was long and fairly broad and looked larger than it was in fact because all its furniture - except a desk at one end - had been removed and replaced by seven rows of fold-up wooden chairs. Some twenty people had already taken their seats. Most of them were middle-aged and fairly prosperous looking; there were more women than men, and among the former were two Indian ladies wearing caste marks and saris.

Barney ran his eye swiftly over such of their faces as he could see from where he stood and decided that they looked a more normal crowd than he had expected - in fact, they might all have been collected in one swoop by clearing and transporting the occupants of the lounge of any of the better-class South Kensington hotels. Mary nodded a greeting to a few of them, then took the chair that he was holding for her. As he sat down beside her he said:

'I gather that you are one of the older inhabitants of this village, Mrs. Mauriac?'

'Oh, I . . .' her mouth felt dry and her voice threatened to rise from nervous tension. With an effort she got it under control. 'I'm far from that. This is only the third meeting that I've attended.'

Barney noted that she had no French accent, then he replied: 'Even that puts you quite a bit ahead of me. Do you find the teaching easy to follow?�

'Some of it.' To cover her confusion Mary hurried on. 'I find the arguments for believing in Reincarnation simple and convincing, and I've become terribly interested in that. But I'm still a long way from understanding the Theosophical doctrine.'

'Really!' He raised his eyebrows. 'I was under the impression that Theosophists were anti-doctrinaire. I thought they concerned themselves only with getting at the original wisdom that is said to lie at the root of all the great religions, but most of which has since been obscured by the teachings introduced by many generations of ignorant priests.'

'That's quite true; Theosophy does not conflict with Christianity or Buddhism in their best sense. But all the same it has its own doctrine, and much of it seems awfully complicated to me. You see, it isn't as though this was a course of lectures in which one starts at the beginning; each is on a different aspect of the ancient teaching, and newcomers like you and I have to do our best to pick up what we can as we go along.'

Having by this time had a chance to take full stock of Mary, Barney was congratulating himself on his luck in acquiring so unexpectedly such a glamorous companion with whom to listen to what he anticipated would be a lot of twaddle; but he was temporarily prevented from developing the acquaintance further by the arrival of an elderly lady, leaning on an ebony walking stick, who greeted Mary with a smile, took the chair on her other side, and began to talk to her about the last meeting.

During the next five minutes another dozen or so people arrived, including a fat, squat Indian wearing thick-lensed glasses, and with protruding teeth, who from his bowing and smiling to right and left seemed to know nearly everyone there. Then Mrs. Wardeel came in followed by a small, bald man in a dark grey suit who looked as if he might have been a bank manager. He walked round to a chair behind the desk while she paused beside it. Silence fell and she said:

'Dear followers of the Path, Mr. Silcox is well known to most of you. We are blessed in having him with us again. Old friends and new alike will, I know, benefit from another of his talks. This evening he is going to speak to us on the True Light to be found in the Gospels.'

Mrs. Wardeel took a seat that had been kept for her in the front row and Mr. Silcox stood up. Without any unctuous preamble he went straight into his subject, which was to place a new interpretation on many of the sayings of Jesus Christ, given the assumption that He believed in Reincarnation, was Himself in His last incarnation, and was really referring to such matters most of the time.

According to Mr. Silcox, when our Lord spoke of His 'Father', He was referring not to a father either physical or divine, but to His own complete personality built up during countless incarnations, only a fragment of which He had brought down with Him to earth.

This argument was based on the Reincarnationist belief that everyone's parents are chosen for them only to ensure that they are given the sort of start in life best suited to provide them with an opportunity to learn whatever lessons are decreed for them in their new incarnation; and that they are their own father in the sense that their egos have already been formed by certain of their experiences during a long succession of past lives.

In support of this contention the speaker drew attention to that passage in the Second Commandment to the effect that God would 'visit the sins of the fathers upon the children even unto the third and fourth generation'.

'Could any sane person,' Mr. Silcox asked, 'believe a just god capable of showing such vicious malice as to threaten the innocent and unborn with dire chastisement for evil done by their physical parents or grandparents?' Clearly the explanation of this apparently harsh decree was that, each of us being spiritually the child of the personality we had created for ourselves in previous lives, if we did evil in our present incarnation we should have to pay for it in the future, and it might take us three or four more incarnations before we had fully worked off our debt.

All this was new to Barney and, far from being bored as he had expected, he found it deeply interesting; so for the next half-hour he gave his mind almost entirely to following Mr. Silcox's interpretation of the sayings of Our Lord.

Mary, on the other hand, was hardly listening. The main arguments for Reincarnation were already known to her, and her thoughts had gone back five years to the last time she had seen Barney. That had been in the grey dawn of early morning in a room of a small hotel in Dublin. He had not long got out of the bed they had shared and, having dressed, he had kissed her goodbye with the cheerful words:

'I'll see you again soon, sweetheart, and we'll have better fun next time.' But there had been no next time and, although she had searched high and low for him, she had never seen him again until tonight. With a sick feeling she went back in her mind over the whole sordid story of her life as Mary McCreedy.

Her mother had earned a precarious living as a small-part actress in musical comedy, vaudeville and anything else that offered. About her father she knew nothing except that, according to her mother, he was a naval officer and had been lost at sea while she was still an infant. As no reference was ever made to any of his family she suspected that he had never married her mother. In any case, whether or not she was illegitimate, she knew that to have been the case with her brother, Shaun, who had been born three years after herself. His father had been a Dublin business man, known to her during her childhood as Uncle Patrick. She assumed now that in those days he largely supported the household, as they had lived in reasonable comfort and she and her brother had been educated privately. But when she was fifteen 'Uncle' Patrick had died, and they had had to move to a much poorer part of the city.

Shortly afterwards her mother had taken her away from the Convent she was attending, to have her taught dancing. The following year she appeared in Pantomime and, as she was a well-developed girl for her age she had, by lying about it, got herself a job when barely seventeen in the Cabaret of a Dublin night-club.

Meanwhile her mother, having failed to find another permanent protector, and harassed by debt, had taken to the bottle; then, before Mary had been many months in Cabaret, on the way home one Saturday night in a state of liquor her mother had been knocked down and killed by a bus. After that Mary had had to move with her young brother into two rooms, and had become the sole support of their little household.

The night-club where she worked would not have been worthy of the name by continental standards, so hedged about was it with restrictions imposed by a Municipality under the moral influence of the Roman Catholic Church. There were no near-nude floor shows, nor was drinking permitted till the small hours of the morning. In fact, it was little more than a restaurant that hired a troupe of girls to sing and dance in little numbers which would not give offence to family parties and, in theory at least, the girls were all respectable. But, of course, between shows they were expected to act as dance-hostesses to any man who might ask them and so, inevitably, they were inured to receiving certain propositions.

Mary had been aware that some of her companions owed their smarter clothes and expensive trifles to accepting such offers, and she had not got on less well with any of them on that account; but at eighteen the teaching of the nuns still had a strong influence upon her. Moreover, she cherished romantic ideas that in due course a Prince Charming would come along, and that she would be shamed if, on his marrying her, she were not still a virgin. Yet, with a young brother to keep as well as herself, although the Church school to which he went had waived his fees since their mother's death, she found it ever harder to make ends meet.

That had been the situation when she met Barney Sullivan. He had come in one evening with several other young roisterers and picked her out to dance with. She had been attracted at once by his merry smile and carefree gaiety, but at the end of the evening he had casually given her a handsome tip and made no suggestion of seeing her again, However, in the weeks that followed he had come in on several occasions after dinner with three or four other well-off young fellows out for a good time, danced with her, and given her the impression that he had fallen for her. Then one night he had turned up with the same little crowd of friends, this time slightly tight, but most cheerfully so; and, after sharing a bottle of champagne with her, he had suggested that she should sleep with him. On her making her usual reply that she was 'not that sort of a girl' he had refused to believe her, declaring with a laugh that all the girls there did if a chap could make it worth their while; but he had not pressed her further.

A few nights later he had come there again, and that night it so happened that she was in desperate trouble. Her young brother, who was in his last term at school, was the treasurer of the football club, and he had confessed to her that afternoon that he had spent the money entrusted to him. If he could not replace it by the following day he would be found out and branded as a thief. It was only a matter of six pounds odd, but she had not got it and had already had from the management an advance on her wage to pay the rent. She had intended to humiliate herself by attempting to borrow from some of the other girls, but that would have meant a further debt round her neck that it would be a struggle to repay. Barney, flushed with champagne and with a pocket full of money from a lucky day at the races, had offered her twenty pounds if she would do as several of the other girls had, and go to bed with him. Attracted to him as she was, and harassed by her anxiety about her brother, she had given way to his pleading.

No sooner had they left the club than she began to regret her decision and, for her, the next hour was one of misery. Although she was a normal healthy girl fully capable of passion, she was totally inexperienced; so a combination of panic, guilt and - much as she needed the money - shame at having succumbed to earning it in this way, temporarily rendered her frigid. Barney, feeling on top of the world, and his finer senses dulled by the wine he had drunk, swiftly set himself to overcome her unresponsiveness. It was only afterwards, as she lay weeping in his arms, that he realized to his considerable distress that she had been a virgin.

But for her matters had not ended there. At first she had put down his non-reappearance at the club to disappointment in her; then, to her horror, she realized that she was going to have a baby. Instantly she jumped to the conclusion that he was purposely avoiding her because he suspected that he might have given her one. She did not know his address and, although she asked all sorts of people, none of them knew it either. It was not until some weeks later that a friend of his came to the club and was able to tell her that he had gone off to America quite suddenly, without even saying goodbye to his circle of boon companions.

Meanwhile her life had become one long agony of anxiety and fear. In vain she lit candles and prayed morning, noon and night to Our Lady for a natural release from her condition; her prayers remained unanswered. At length she confided in one of the other, older, girls and learned that she could be got out of her trouble; but it was going to cost a lot of money. As she was as hard-up as ever, and the matter was urgent, there was only one thing for it; her friend arranged for her to borrow the bulk of the money from a money-lender, and she had to begin accepting the offers of men who came to the club, whether she liked them or not, as the only means of repaying the instalments on the loan.

She soon learned that such encounters were not always unpleasant, but in most instances she found them loathsome and degrading. Moreover, as the club was very far from being thought of as a centre of prostitution, advances of that kind were made to the girls there only occasionally, and it soon became apparent to her that Barney had treated her with exceptional generosity; which meant that a considerable time must elapse before she was entirely free from her debt.

Those months remained vivid in her memory: the horror and pain of the illegal operation; her misery at having to give up practising her religion because she could not bring herself to confess to having committed so grievous a sin; the nausea that had at times assailed her from having to submit to the caresses of half-drunken men; the awful strain of having to pretend to enjoy it when, tired from a long evening's dancing and aching for her bed, she had been driven miles out into the country by some stranger to be made love to in the back of his car; and the shame aroused in her by the sneering looks or lecherous grins of slatternly chambermaids who had shown her up with men to tawdry bedrooms in dubious little hotels.

And her penance had lasted longer than it need have done, since, to bring some cheer into her life, she had given way to the understandable weakness of using part of the money she earned to buy better clothes and many small luxuries which she could not before afford. With the interest on her debt, it had been ten months before she had managed to get clear finally. Then, shortly afterwards, during a fortnight's holiday at the seaside, she had met Teddy Morden; and he had taken her to London, freeing her from her past, and giving her his love, his name and a happy married life.

Yet even four years as a contented wife had not made her feelings about Barney Sullivan less bitter. It was his act which had resulted in those ten months during which she had hardly known a day free from anxiety, or disgust with herself at the life she had been forced into leading! It never entered her mind that if a man paid a girl to go to bed with him he was entitled to assume that she knew how to look after herself, and was not responsible for what might become of her afterwards. As she saw it, he should have known that he might have put her in the family way and come to the club again to find out if she was all right; instead of which, as it appeared to her, he had deliberately refrained from doing so from fear that she might be pregnant by him, then gone off to America leaving her to her unhappy fate. In consequence, in her mind he had become the symbol of all that is mean and contemptible in a man.

With a little start she suddenly realized that Mr. Silcox had come to the end of his talk. During the ten minutes that followed several members of the audience asked him questions, which he answered with easy assurance. Then Mrs. Wardeel moved a vote of thanks to him which met with decorous applause, after which she said:

'Now, dear fellow followers of the Way, let us rearrange the chairs and see what Mrs. Brimmings has in store for us. No doubt some of you will have heard of Mrs. Brimmings. From the accounts I have had she is a remarkably gifted medium and under her control, the Chinese Mandarin Chi-Ling - whose last incarnation took place some two hundred years ago - she is able to make contact with not only the first, but also the second and third, astral planes. We are most fortunate in having her with us tonight.'

Everyone stood up. The unoccupied chairs were put back against the wall and the rest formed into a large circle, in the middle of which a chair was placed for Mrs. Brimmings. As Mrs. Wardeel led her forward to it, Barney saw that she was a small, faded elderly woman with grey hair scragged back into a bun, and wearing rather shoddy clothes. It occurred to him that she might easily be taken for a charwoman, and a moment later she said to Mrs. Wardeel in accents that reinforced that impression:

'May I 'ave a rug, dear. Me poor feet get so cold when I'm out of me body.'

A rug was duly fetched and wrapped round her, then the company settled down and, crossing their arms, all linked hands with their neighbours. Before taking her place in the circle Mrs. Wardeel switched out all the lights except one with a heavy blue shade, thus darkening the room to a faint bluish gloom, in which the medium could be seen only as a dark shape; then she said in a deep whisper:

'For the two new friends who are with us tonight, I shall give the usual warning, Whatever may happen, no one must break the circle by letting go the hand of his neighbour. To do so would be to place the medium in grave danger by bringing her spirit back to her body too suddenly. And no one should address her unless called on to do so.'

After that, silence fell, broken only by an occasional half-suppressed cough or the faint creak of one of the wooden chairs as someone eased his position. To Barney the silence seemed to continue for a long time, which he judged to be about twenty minutes, although in fact it was little more than ten. But it had the effect of creating a definite atmosphere of tension and expectancy.

At length a faint blob of light appeared high up in a corner of the room. It flickered about uncertainly for a little then, to Barney's surprise, descended on his own forehead. With difficulty he suppressed an exclamation; but, almost instantly, it moved again and came to rest for a moment on the forehead of a man nearly opposite to him, after which it disappeared.

'Ah!' Mrs. Wardeel gave a heavy sigh of satisfaction, then declared in an audible whisper. 'All is favourable. Our two new friends are accepted on probation to sit with us in the mystic circle.'

Again silence fell. It lasted for about five minutes and Barney was becoming a little bored when, without the least warning, an illuminated trumpet appeared a few feet above the medium's head and from it there came a long musical note.

In a flash it was gone, but the faintly seen form of the medium seemed to be writhing from side to side and she was breathing heavily. After a moment she became quite still and from her came a voice utterly unlike her normal one, which said with a slight foreign accent, but clearly and with authority:

'Once more you disturb my meditations. Beware that you do not do so without good cause. Yet I will always descend among those swathed in the bonds of a present incarnation to bring them that need me comfort and reassurance.'

There was a pause, then the voice went on. 'You who are now called Josephine Carden. Why do you still seek to get into touch with him who was your husband? You have already been told by a companion of mine, known as Little Violet, that all is well with him, and that he wishes to forget his last time here, so that he may the sooner make progress towards a higher state.'

A low sob came from a fat woman not far away from Barney on his left, and her body threatened to slump forward, but was held back by her neighbours keeping a firm grip on her hands.

'Hush, dear,' murmured Mrs. Wardeel. 'That was most unkind of the Mandarin; but another time some other guide may bring you comfort.'

'Silence woman!' shouted the Mandarin. 'My time is not to be wasted or my judgment questioned by such as you. Silcox! Henry Silcox, I have good tidings for you. The Master K.H. has consented to your passing the Second Grade of Initiation.'

The little man who had given the talk gave a gasp and murmured, 'I am humbly grateful. I shall do my utmost to be worthy.'

There came a short pause, then the voice spoke again. 'Better-ton. There is one here named Betterton?'

'Yes, yes!' exclaimed the other newcomer, opposite Barney, on whose forehead the light had also rested.

'You seek knowledge of the wife who recently cast off her fleshly envelope. She is happy. She is united again with the girl child who was sufficiently filled with grace to leave you while in her last life still young in years. Your wife bids you marry again for the sake of the other children.'

So it went on for about twenty minutes, the strong, vibrant, slightly foreign voice throwing out bits of information or commands to some dozen people in the audience. Then silence fell again. Some minutes passed and the medium began to groan. Mrs. Wardeel broke the circle, went over to her and softly stroked her forehead until she came round, then asked:

'Are you feeling all right, Mrs. Brimmings? Can we put the lights up now?�

'Yes, dear.' Mrs. Brimmings spoke again with the voice of a cockney char. 'Mister Chi-Ling always takes a lot out of me; but I'll be meself again soon as I've 'ad a cup-o'-tea an' a bite to eat.'

As Mr. Silcox switched on the lights, Barney made a quick assessment of the performance he had seen; and he was fully convinced that it was a performance. It had been well put on and superficially convincing; but he had little doubt that the light and the trumpet were permanent properties of the room frequently put to use at these meetings. So, too, could a sound apparatus be installed beneath Mrs. Brimmings's chair through which someone outside the room had made Chi-Ling's pronouncements; or else the medium was quite a different personality from that which she normally appeared, and was a clever actress, highly skilled in voice production. As for the Mandarin's messages, suitable ones could easily be cooked up to sound impressive to the older members of the circle with whose circumstances Mrs. Wardeel should have had little difficulty in becoming acquainted. That, too, doubtless applied to the newcomer, Betterton, whereas to himself, about whom Mrs. Wardeel had had no means of finding anything out, no message had been given.

Counting heads, he reckoned that Mrs. Wardeel must have netted about thirty guineas on the evening. Silcox, he thought, was probably honest and had given his talk for nothing, while Mrs. Brimmings's rake-off for her collaboration was, perhaps, a fiver; so that left a handsome profit and, as the meetings were held weekly, he decided that Mrs. Wardeel was running quite a useful little racket.

As the circle broke up he released Mary's hand and asked her, 'Have you ever received a message at one of these sittings?'

She shook her head. 'No, not yet; although I always concentrate during them, hoping to hear something of a person I knew who has not long been dead.'

'Passed over, you mean,' he corrected her with a grin.

She gave him a queer look, his levity giving her cause to wonder more than ever what had brought him to such a gathering. But she turned away without reply, and they mingled with the others who were now filing out of the room.

Crossing the hall, the little crowd entered a smaller room at one side of which there was a buffet with tea, coffee and light refreshments. There a babble of conversation had broken out, and two other men, one the fat Indian with the pebble glasses and hideous protruding teeth, and another whom Mary greeted as Mr. Nutting, came up to her. Anxious not to lose touch with her, Barney swiftly forestalled the others in getting her a cup of coffee and a plate of sandwiches. When he rejoined her she asked him if she had heard aright that he was Lord Larne, and on his smilingly confirming that, she introduced him to Mr. Nutting and the Indian, whose name was Krishna Ratnadatta.

For a short while the four of them talked together about the seance, then Nutting, who proved to be an earnest bore, buttonholed Barney and, to his annoyance, entered on a long description of how he had been led to take the Path of Discipleship. But Barney listened to him with only half an ear so, although Ratnadatta was speaking to Mary in a low confidential voice, he happened to overhear him say:

These meetings off Mrs. Wardeel's, they are for the young enquirer very well. Yes, very well for those who, in this incarnation, are at the beginning off the Path. But you, Mrs. Mauriac, I am told by the insight that I haf been given, are already well advanced upon it.'

Barney's interest at once being aroused, he managed to keep Mr. Nutting going with an occasional appreciative nod, while concentrating on the continuance of the conversation between Mary and the Indian, to whom she replied:

'I should like to think so, Mr. Ratnadatta.'

'That it ees so, I know, Mrs. Mauriac,' were the Indian's next words. 'At the two previous meetings after weech we haf talked together I haf by your quick understanding been much impressed. Such understanding ees not given to those who in previous incarnations haf not learnt a lot. Haf you at times perhaps had glimpses off your previous lives?�

'No,' said Mary, 'I'm afraid I can't claim that I have.'

'No matter. Some off us bring down with us from our Vase of Memory much more than others. But that ees no criterion off how well filled up with past experience a person's vase may be. In some case the Great Ones decree that far memory be obscured, for a while, for good purpose. So it ees with you I think. To yourself you owe it to reopen your waking mind to the subconscious, so that you may bring new strengths for progress on the astral plane.'

'I am endeavouring to recall my dreams and write them down, as the lecturer last week told us that we should.'

'Good; very good. Such training ees valuable; but to succeed that way require much time.' Mr. Ratnadatta paused for a moment then went on. 'There are other roads; channels by weech a person can reach the astral plane with swiftness, but such are great secrets and you will not learn off them here.'

'Could you perhaps . . . ?' Mary said hesitantly.

'It ees possible. But on yourself everything would depend. You would haf to give all your mind to the great work. Perhaps your circumstances do not permit that, eh? Your husband, you haf tell me, passed on two years ago; but perhaps you haf children, or parents to take great part off your thought?'

Out of the corner of his eye, Barney saw Mary shake her head. 'No, I have no family and am quite alone in the world.'

'Good, very good. Then, if you haf the will to devote yourself, I will giff thought to introducing you to another circle. Not like this, but one in weech power can be called down; real power by those who haf penetrate far into the mysteries.'

'I'd be most terribly grateful if you would.'

'First we must talk more together, before I can make final decision. For this are you agreeable to meet me on Saturday evening?'

'Yes; at any time you like.'

'Good; very good. Meet me plees then at entrance to Sloane Square Tube Station at eight o'clock, and I giff you dinner.'

Flashing his protruding teeth at Mary in an oily smile, Mr. Ratnadatta bowed to her politely and moved away. Murmuring an apology to the verbose Mr. Nutting, Barney swiftly recaptured her and, seeing that the party was beginning to break up, asked:

'May I see you home, Mrs. Mauriac; or, anyhow, to your Tube or bus stop?'

She hesitated only a second before replying, 'Yes, if you like. Thank you. I shall be walking; but it's no great distance as I have a flat in the Cromwell Road.'

Having made their adieux to Mrs. Wardeel, they collected their coats and left the house together. Barney was a fluent and amusing talker, but on this occasion he confined himself to serious comment on the evening's events, as he feared that if he showed levity about the seance, or showed curiosity about his companion's private life, she might resent it. But while he talked his mind was functioning independently and again assessing Mrs. Wardeel's set-up.

He knew well enough that, apart from the typical old lag, it is extremely difficult to pick out, simply by their faces, criminals from law-abiding citizens. But from the general behaviour of the people at the meeting, he had come to the conclusion that the majority were either quite harmless, serious students of the occult, or sensation seekers. Only the Indian had struck him as possibly being a dangerous type, and his view had been reinforced by Ratnadatta's saying to Mary that he could introduce her to another circle of much higher-powered occultists. It seemed just possible that the Indian had made the same proposal to Morden, and that through accepting it he had got himself involved in Black Magic, then tried too late to break away and been murdered to prevent him betraying the dark secrets of the cult.

Mary, with still vivid memories of her late husband's nightmares, in which he had mentioned an Indian, had encouraged Ratnadatta's advances from her first visit to Mrs. Wardeel's, in the hope that he might be the man Teddy had had on his mind; and now, while listening to Barney's small-talk about the meeting, she was congratulating herself on being, as she believed, on the right track, and having an appointment to meet Ratnadatta privately on Saturday, which might enable her definitely to link him with the crime.

Barney had already decided that he, too, must cultivate the Indian with the object of also putting himself in the way of securing an invitation to join this more secret circle; but that would take time, and the lovely Mrs. Margot Mauriac, with whom he was walking, was already on the brink of receiving such an invitation. If, therefore, he could keep in touch with her, that might prove a short cut to learning a lot more about Ratnadatta. And in this instance, he felt with pleasurable anticipation that, for once, duty opened a most attractive prospect.

In consequence, when they reached the tall old house half-way along the Cromwell Road, in which Mary had rented a furnished flat on the fourth floor, he said with his most winning manner:

'You know, I really have found this evening thrilling. It has opened up all sorts of new speculations and ideas in my mind. But I don't know a soul with whom I can discuss them - that is, except yourself. Would you ... I know it's awful cheek on such a short acquaintance . . . but would you have dinner with me one night? I've got to attend a business meeting tomorrow evening, but what about Thursday or Friday? Please say yes?�

For a moment she looked straight at him; then, with a rather tight-lipped smile, she said, 'All right then. If you like. Let's make it Thursday.'

'Splendid!' he laughed. 'I'll call for you here at seven-thirty.'

A shade awkwardly they shook hands. She turned away, and as she walked up the steps to the porch, he waved her a cheerful 'Good night'.

Mary had not been taken in by his apparent eagerness to discuss the occult. She knew too well the way a man looks at a woman when she has suddenly aroused a physical interest in him. As she went upstairs to her flat, she was thinking:

'You rotten little cad. So you'd like to try to seduce me again! Lord Larne indeed! I suppose you've found that posing as a Lord makes it easier for you to put girls in the family way then leave them in the lurch. All right, Mr. Barney Sullivan. This time it is I who will lead you up the garden path. I'll play you until you're near crazy to have me, then drop you like a brick.'

CHAPTER V THE BROTHERHOOD OF THE RAM

Barney gave considerable thought to where he should take Mary to dinner on the Thursday. It had to be a restaurant at which he was not known as Mr. Sullivan. That left open to him most of the more expensive places; for although his salary, coupled with the allowance his uncle made him, enabled him to live quite comfortably, he was not well enough off to go to them except occasionally when he was on a job and the bill, or a good part of it, could be charged up to his expense account. In this case that applied, and he wanted to do Mary well; moreover, he wanted to dance with her afterwards. But he had said nothing about that and spoken only of a quiet dinner; so, even if he turned up in a black tie, the odds were that she would not be wearing the sort of clothes in which she would be happy for him to take her to the Berkeley or the Savoy. At length he decided to go in a dark suit and take her to the Hungaria, as he had been there only a few times as a member of other people's parties, the food and band were good, and evening dress optional. So, using his title, he rang up and booked a table.

She was ready for him when he called for her in a taxi, and, as he expected, was dressed in a cocktail frock. At the sight of her his pulses quickened slightly, for she struck him as even better looking than as he had seen her in his thoughts during the past two days. Nevertheless, their evening together did not run with anything like the smoothness that he had hoped.

The reason for that was not far to seek. Ostensibly they were a well-matched young couple out for the sole purpose of enjoying one another's company; but actually each of them was deliberately deceiving the other, and finding it necessary to lie about nearly every question that cropped up.

Both, in preparation for the meeting, had thought out a false past and present for themselves. Barney had decided to take the role of the late Lord Larne's eldest son, who had been killed with his father in the aeroplane crash. He said that he had spent most of his life in Kenya and was over in England only on a long visit to go into the possibilities of opening a new Travel Agency, with London tie-ups, in Nairobi.

Mary, one of whose fairly regular and more pleasant sources of income during her black year in Dublin had been a Customs Officer, now gave her late husband that role; adding, as an explanation of her name, that he had been quite a lot older than herself, come to England with the Free French and, after the war, taken British nationality. She said that he had died two years earlier as a result of a heavy crate, not properly secured to a crane, falling upon him; and, lest her faint suggestion of an Irish accent should stir old memories in Barney's mind, she told him that she was 'Liverpool' Irish and had been brought up in that city.

Her occupation she gave as a free-lance model, and in that there was a substratum of truth. She had picked up the rudiments of such work from her mother, who had eked out her earnings as an actress in that way, and had herself a few times earned a small fee for showing dresses in one of Dublin's less expensive shops; so, during the past fortnight, she had taken it up again to supplement her pension and, now that she was older and had more poise, the agent she had gone to had already found no difficulty in getting her several bookings.

But on both sides the past was a subject giving constant rise to unexpected questions calling for swiftly thought up lies by way of answer; so neither of them could be natural and at ease. Moreover the ostensible reason for their meeting - to talk of the occult - failed to bridge the gap because she knew little more about it than he did. In consequence, finding her decidedly reluctant to say much about herself, he was reduced during the latter part of dinner to giving her accounts of the doings of the Mau-Mau, while praying that she had not read the book upon which he was drawing for experiences as though they were his own.

However, when they took the floor, matters improved somewhat, for he was a naturally good dancer and she had been a professional. They spoke little but each found in the other an excellent partner and thoroughly enjoyed the smooth rhythm. While they danced the best part of two hours sped swiftly by, and by then the fact that they were both playing a part had slipped to the back of their minds. Feeling now that he could open up on a matter that concerned her personally with less chance of her resenting it, a little before midnight Barney ordered more coffee and liqueurs then asked her:

'How well do you know that Indian chap who was at the meeting?'

'Mr. Ratnadatta?' Her voice was casual. 'Oh, he's just one of several acquaintances I've made at Mrs. Wardeel's; although, as a matter of fact, I've learnt more from talking to him after the meetings than at them. But why do you ask?'

'Well . . .' Barney hesitated a second. 'I suppose I ought not to have listened to your conversation with him; but I couldn't help overhearing him offer to take you to some much more advanced occult circle, of which he is a member.'

'He didn't. He only said he would consider doing so after he had had another talk with me.'

'Yes. I gathered that. But he asked you to have dinner with him on Saturday, didn't he? And it's unlikely that he would have done that unless he had pretty well made up his mind already that you were a suitable candidate.'

She smiled. 'I hope he does. He implies that Mrs. Wardeel's parties are only kindergarten stuff, and I'm sure he knows what he is talking about. It would be terribly exciting to belong to a group possessing real power.'

Barney gave her an uneasy glance. Now that he had spent an evening at close quarters with the beautiful 'Margot' he was beginning to feel an interest in her that had nothing to do with his job; and as he thought it highly probable that Ratnadatta's circle practised Black Magic, he did not at all like the idea of her getting herself mixed up with that kind of crowd. On the other hand, he did want her to lead him to it. How to handle this dilemma worried him considerably; but, after a moment's thought, he decided that, even if it meant prolonging his investigation, he ought to try to head her off, so he said:

'I don't know much about the occult, but one thing about it is clear. There are only two ways of obtaining power by supernatural means. One is by leading the life of a Saint; the other is by becoming a disciple of the Devil. Like you, I'm talking of real power now; and you may be right in believing that this chap Ratnadatta can lead you to it. If so, maybe he's a saint, but I'd lay a packet that he and his pals turn out to be Black Magicians.'

Mary was also of that opinion, but she did not admit it. Instead she said, 'Not necessarily. They may be advanced practitioners of Yoga.'

'Yes; I suppose that's a possibility. Still, the idea of your letting him become your, er - guide, philosopher and friend, worries me.'

'That's nice of you.' Her voice held only a suspicion of sarcasm.

'I mean,' he persisted, 'that you might get yourself involved in something pretty unpleasant if you keep this date with him on Saturday.'

'I am not in the habit of breaking dates, once I've made them. Anyway, he is only giving me dinner.'

'You never know. He might suggest taking you on to this circle of his afterwards.'

'I hope he does. I'm full of curiosity about it.'

'Look Margot,' he said, using for the first time the Christian name by which he knew her, and hedging slightly in an attempt to get in on the game now she had made it clear that she could not be persuaded to drop it. 'I'm curious about it too. You may be right about its being a Yoga party, and if so it could be the real path to developing one's higher faculties. Anyhow, I mean to cultivate old Ratnadatta until I can persuade him that I am also a suitable candidate to be let in on his mysteries. But that will take time; so, just in case it is a Satanist set-up, if he does offer you a chance to join his circle, I wish you would stall for a while. Then, if I can get on the right side of him after another couple of meetings at Mrs. Wardeel's, we could fix it so that I go with you on your setting sail into these unknown waters.'

Mary felt a little secret thrill of satisfaction. During the first part of the evening the false personality she had had to build up had made her feel so awkward with him that she knew that she was far from making herself a charming and interesting companion. She had even begun to fear that her plan to ensnare and pay out this plausible roue who had brought such misery upon her was about to become still-born, and that he would never ask her out again. But now, here he was already showing deep concern for her, and anxious to become her protector in case she ran into danger. All the same, she had no intention of delaying for a single day if she was given the opportunity to follow up this possible lead to Teddy's murder. And if Barney was left to wonder what was happening to her on Saturday night, so much the better. That was just the sort of thing to make him all the keener.

She shook her head. 'No, I'm afraid I can't do that. If I once turned down an offer from Ratnadatta he might not ask me again. But I assure you I'm perfectly capable of taking care of myself. And now, I think I ought to be getting home.'

'O.K. then!' With a light-hearted shrug he appeared to dismiss the matter, but after a moment he added, 'I haven't enjoyed dancing so much with anyone for a long time. If your friend the Fakir hasn't turned you into a pretty white nanny goat, what about having dinner with me here again on Sunday?'

Mary smiled back at him. 'I enjoyed it too, and I'd like to do that. You'll have to take the risk, though, that by then I'll have acquired the power to turn you into a horrid black toad.'

'I'm awfully flattered that you should feel like that about me!' She gave him a puzzled look. 'Unless you're being sarcastic, I don't quite see what you mean.'

His eyes suddenly danced with devilment, and his teeth flashed in a grin. 'Surely you know that a witch has to take her familiar to live with her?'

The waiter brought the bill at that moment; so Barney did not see her flush, as she thought angrily, 'He hasn't changed a bit. How like him to seize the first chance to throw out that sort of suggestion under cover of a joke.' And it was that angry thought which was largely responsible for precipitating her into a stupid action very soon afterwards.

Ten minutes later, as their taxi moved off, Barney, with the assurance of a man who is rarely repulsed by women, put an arm round her shoulders. She let him, and predicted to herself what his next move would be - he would begin at once to tell her how beautiful she was, then when they came opposite the Ritz he would attempt to kiss her and, if she allowed him to, by the time they reached Hyde Park Corner he would put his free hand on her knee.

In her first two assumptions she proved right, but as he drew her towards him she swiftly jerked her head away, and snapped, 'Stop that! How dare you treat me as if I were a tart!'

Next moment she could have bitten her tongue out. It was an absurd thing to have said, simply because he had tried to kiss her, and she had been impelled to say it only because she was already visualizing in her mind the sort of thing she expected him to attempt later, if she let him.

Sitting back quickly, he exclaimed: 'What on earth are you talking about? Treat you like a tart! I've done nothing of the kind.'

'Yes you have.' She took refuge in angry contradiction. 'To try to make love to a woman who has given you not the least encouragement, and whom you hardly know, the very first moment you are alone with her, is as good as telling her to her face that you think she's the sort who can be had for the price of a dinner.'

'Nonsense!' said Barney, firmly. 'Men don't kiss tarts in taxis. They wait till they get back to their flats, do what there is to do, give them a few quid, and, nine times out of ten, go home and forget all about them. Whereas I want to see you again. You know I do; and I wouldn't be such a fool as to spoil my chances of our becoming really good friends.'

Her mind fixed on his words 'and forget all about them'. They acted like a can of petrol poured on the fires of her Irish temper and, ignoring the rest of what he had said, she stormed at him:

'So that's how you treat girls who are reduced to giving themselves for money, is it? And what about afterwards? Say you've put the wretched girl in the family way. I suppose that's no concern of your Lordship�s?�

'Really, Margot!' he protested. 'I can't think what's got into you. A tart is a tart, and is doing a job of work like any other, even if at times it is not a very pleasant one. It is up to her to learn how to take care of herself. If she doesn't bother and gets caught, you can't hold the man responsible.'

'As he did it, he is.'

'I don't agree. If a chap is having an affair with a decent girl that, of course, is different. It is up to him to see that nothing goes wrong, and should they have the bad luck to have an accident, obviously it's his responsibility to get her out of trouble. Listen, I'll give you a parallel. When I was younger and lived in ... out in Kenya, I often used to ride for other people in steeplechases. Say an owner had a really fractious horse and asked me as a favour to ride him, if the brute had thrown me and I'd broken a leg I'd have had the right to expect the owner to cough up my doctor's fees and hospital expenses. But if he had paid me for the job, and I'd taken the risk for money, it wouldn't even have occurred to me to ask the owner to foot the bill. In the same way, with tarts, getting in the family way is simply an occupational risk; that's all there is to it.'

'But supposing the girl is young and ignorant?' He shrugged. 'If she's been paid I don't see that that makes much difference. These girls always have older friends to whom they can go for advice, or know of some old woman who'll do the necessary. But what beats me is why you should have become so het-up about all this.'

Mary saw the red light. She had already been dangerously near to stating her own case. If she pursued the subject further it might easily ring a bell in his mind and cause him to recognize her. Then goodbye to all hope of getting her own back on him. With an effort she pulled herself together and said in a calmer voice. 'You are quite right. It is only that I'm sorry for girls who have to earn their living that way and, as a woman, resent the fact that men's lust should force them to it.'

'Oh come! I admit that prostitution could not exist if there were not the demand that keeps it going. But the majority of these girls are just lazy sluts who prefer to lie late in bed in the morning, deck themselves out in clothes they could not otherwise afford, then spend most of their time drinking or dancing in bars and clubs, rather than do an honest day's work.' 'Perhaps that is so; but there must be exceptions.' 'No doubt there are. But what has that got to do with the fact that I tried to kiss you? In the most respectable circles, from their 'teens on, when boys and girls like each other they kiss without any thought of going to bed together afterwards. I can only suppose that you've got some awful Freudian complex that turns you into an icicle at the touch of a man.'

'It's not that,' she said with an effort. 'I'm quite normal. I enjoy being kissed by a man I like. But. . . well ... I do need a chance to make up my mind if I like him enough first.'

The taxi had just pulled up outside the house in which she was living, and Barney said with a smile, 'Then I haven't blotted my copy-book irretrievably. I'm glad about that. May I take it that Sunday is still on?'

'Yes,' she nodded as he helped her out. 'I'm afraid I've behaved rather stupidly. I didn't mean to. Please forgive me. And thank you very much for this evening. Good night.'

Still much puzzled by her outburst he watched her go up the steps and let herself in, then he told the taxi to drive him to his rooms in Warwick Square.

While undressing, Mary did her best to reassess the relationship between them, of which only she was aware. The views he had expressed, obviously with complete honesty, on a man's obligations, or lack of them, to a girl with whom he had slept, depending on whether she had given herself to him for love or for money, had made a considerable impression on her. In fact, as a general principle, she found it difficult not to accept them. But, having for five years nurtured a bitter grudge against him as the author of all her personal sufferings, she found it impossible to dissociate him from them overnight.

The carefree attitude that he still displayed to life, his passing himself off as a lord, and his taking it for granted that she would let him make love to her after only a few hours spent in his company, all combined to reinforce her belief that he was cynical, unscrupulous, heartless, and a menace to any woman who was fool enough to fall for him. But in this case it was he who had fallen for her. The anxiety he had displayed about her meeting Ratnadatta on Saturday evening, and his eagerness to see her again, was, she felt, ample evidence of that; and as she dropped off to sleep she was savouring in advance the triumph she would enjoy when she had led him on into a state in which she would make him utterly miserable with frustrated desire.

On the Saturday evening she duly kept her appointment with Ratnadatta at Sloane Square Tube Station. Sleek, paunchy, his brown eyes expressionless behind the pebble lenses, but his rabbit teeth protruding in an ingratiating smile, he greeted her most politely, then beckoned up the leading taxi on the rank.

He was dressed as she had seen him on previous occasions, in a pale blue suit of thinnish material, over which he now had a light fawn overcoat. Apart from the colour of his skin, the only indications of his Eastern origin were that his hat was of the kind habitually worn by Mr. Nehru, and that he smelled strongly of scent. As they got into the taxi Mary caught a pungent whiff of it; but to that she was far from objecting, as during their talks together at Mrs. Wardeel's she had several times had to suppress an impulse to back away from him on account of his breath. It had a curiously sweet yet unpleasant odour like that of bad lobster, and she hoped that his having scented himself so lavishly this evening would help to counteract it.

The taxi took them only half-a-mile then pulled up outside a small restaurant in Chelsea. Its Eurasian proprietor welcomed Ratnadatta as a valued patron and, bowing them to the back of the restaurant, led them upstairs to a small room in which a table was laid for two.

Although her host was on the youthful side of middle-age, it had somehow not occurred to Mary that he might have amorous designs upon her. But from her black year she was well aware of the use to which such private dining-rooms were usually put and, as her glance fell on a sofa against one wall, she was seized with swift revulsion at the thought of such an encounter with him.

Catching her uneasy look, he said quickly, 'You haf no objection, plees; the things off weech we shall talk are not for other ears.'

Momentarily reassured, she replied: 'Yes, of course. I quite understand.'

When the menu was produced he urged her to order whatever she fancied, so she chose potted shrimps, a tournedo and Coupe Jacques; on which he said that the same would suit him too.

As the proprietor left the room, she remarked, 'I thought that Theosophists who have achieved initiation had to become vegetarians.'

He chuckled. 'Those who are Theosophists only are little people. They know nothing. We off the Brotherhood haf passed beyond such senseless taboos. Off commandments we haf but one, "Do what thou wilt shall be the Whole off the Law".'

She smiled back at him. 'That sounds an easy philosophy to follow.'

'It ees good, very good. It frees the mind from all care - all inhibitions. With the shackles off convention thrown aside, life becomes all pleasure. That ees as the Great One wishes for us.'

'You speak as though the three Masters in whom the Theosophists believe were one.'

'Yes, plees. As in much other things, they make great error. There ees only one Supreme Entity and he can give us all our wishings.' At that moment a waiter came in with the first course and Ratnadatta added quickly, 'We talk of this more later, yes. Eat now and enjoy.'

During the meal he plied Mary with questions, sometimes direct, and sometimes oblique, so that she could not be quite certain at what he was driving. Mostly they concerned her past, her religious beliefs, and the life she was leading at present. Owing to the practice she had had in answering similar questions put by Barney two nights before, she found herself able to answer much more readily and even embroider convincingly the picture she had built up. On the subject of religion she took special pains to assure him that although she had been brought up as a Roman Catholic, she had long since ceased to be a practising one, and now regarded the hard and fast beliefs demanded by that faith as quite unacceptable to an intelligent individual.

At times she tried to lighten her replies to his catechism in the hope of bringing a little humour into their conversation; but the Indian did not respond and continued to regard her steadily from behind his thick-lensed spectacles. However, the food was good, if not pretentious, and he proved an attentive host. When the pudding had been served he poured her another glass of wine and asked her about her sex life.

Again she felt an inward shudder at the thought that he might be leading up to attempting to make love to her; so she replied coldly, 'I don't think we need go into that.'

'Indeed yes.' His voice for the first time held a note of sharpness. 'To judge your fitness for advancement all your personality you must reveal to me. The secret life as well as the open life. Speak now of your first experience.'

Realizing that she would have wasted her time, and get no further with him, if she refused, she told a plausible lie about it. 'Apart from cuddling, and that sort of thing, with a few young men, I had none until I was married.' 'And then?'

'Well, I got no pleasure from it at first, but after a while, like any normal girl who loves her husband, I came to enjoy it.' 'Since your husband's death what, plees? Haf you a lover 7* She felt sure of the answers he would like to that, so she gave them. 'No,' then added, 'not at the moment, but I have had several.'

'You take them why? Because you fall in love with each, or for some other reason?�

'I liked them all, naturally. But it was really because I felt lonely. Besides, I'm young and healthy and, having got used to that sort of thing, after having been deprived of it for a while I felt the need for it.'

'Good, very good. Most sensible. This shows that you are already free from the false bindings you received as young from Christian teaching. Instead you haf taken your own will for guide. What now off women? Haf your own sex sometimes attraction for you?' Mary shook her head.

'You haf perhaps a strong feeling against homosexuals?' 'No. I'm sorry for them, that's all. But if they are made that way I think they have as much right as other people to enjoy themselves in their own fashion.'

'Again you show the broad mind weech tells me that your incarnations haf been many.'

They had finished the bottle of Chianti that Ratnadatta had ordered, and now the waiter arrived with coffee and liqueurs. When he had gone the Indian said:

'For your understanding I must now speak off things that are hidden from most. Perhaps you haf heard sometime off the reply savages in dark Africa make to white men who ask "Why do you make prayer to the idol, the waterfall, thunder, and what else. Such can do you no good. Haf you never heard that there ees a great God high up in the sky who created all things and ees all-powerful. It ees to Him that you should make your prayers.'

'No,' said Mary, 'I've not. What do the savages reply?'

'They say, "Yes, we know off the great god who created the world and all that ees in it; but to him it ees useless to make prayer. Our ancestors did so and found he did not answer. That was because he no longer hear. Having finish the world he loose interest in it and go far far away to make other worlds. But in the idol he leave a little part off his power and to the river and the fire-mountain we make sacrifice because if not they become angry; then perhaps they destroy our crops, our cattle, ourselves." '

Ratnadatta solemnly nodded his head and went on. 'Those savages haf preserve a truth long lost to nations civilized. The Creator did after completion go away to think only off making new worlds. To worship Him ees foolishness; a waste of time.'

'Surely, though, you don't suggest we should worship idols?' Mary asked.

'No, no! Yet the Creator did leave power behind Him. He delegate it to one off his sons.'

Hardly believing that she could have heard aright, Mary murmured, 'You mean Jesus Christ?'

The dark face opposite her took on a contemptuous look. 'What an idea! He was a prophet only, one off many and not a very good one. I speak off Prince Lucifer.'

'I ... I see. He was an Arch-angel, wasn't he; before he became the Devil?'

'An Arch-angel, yes. A true son off the Creator. Devil ees a term used only by those who fear Him. It came to use with the spread off the Christian heresy. If you are to progress you must forget such foolishness. Those who haf true knowledge reverence Him as Our Lord Satan. For off this world he ees the Lord. All power over it ees His. He was given it as His Principality. The Bible, even, makes admission of that.'

Mary thought to herself, 'Well, now we know where we are. Both Barney and I were right in believing this horrid little man to be one of a circle of Satanists.' Aloud she said, 'I remember the passage now. What you say throws an entirely new light on everything.'

'Good, very good.' Ratnadatta smiled at her. 'Another passage I recall to you. On the high mountain He offered Christ all cities and the plains. Not the world, off course, but as far as he could see. That we know to haf been because He think Christ could haf been useful servant and wish to save him from taking wrong Path. Christ being conceited fool refuse; so, instead off becoming a great Lord, he died horrible death. But my point ees that Prince Lucifer's offer would haf made no sense if the cities and plains were not His to give.'

'Yes; I suppose that is so.'

'You suppose!' snapped the Indian. 'Understand plees, that if you wish for advancement you make no questionings off what I tell.'

'Oh, I wasn't doubting you,' Mary assured him hastily. 'Please go on and tell me how I can become one of the favoured of... of Him who is Lord of this world.'

He smiled again. 'The Path ees not difficult for those who are willing to embrace life with whole heart. Remember, the Creator told Adam that He had made all things for his delight. The same wish has also been that off His great son, Our Lord Satan, for all descendants off Adam up to present day. At first, perhaps, inhibitions from youthful upbringing may unexpectedly make troubles in your mind. You must practise to be rid off them; yes ruthlessly. Only so will you fit yourself to take part in secret rituals. It ees by these we call down power to ourselves. Without taking part in them all else ees off no use.'

"What sort of rituals are they?' Mary enquired.

'The most ancient off all. They haf been practise since the beginning off the world. Most religions preserve relics off them; submission, communion, in some also offering off sacrifice. But in all the meaning off them has been obscured by evil or ignorant priests. Most haf become so distorted to be now unrecognizable. This in the West more than in the East, or even dark Africa. People still primitive haf preserved greater degree off truth. Good example ees sacrifice. To make sacrifice ees to pay tribute, and it ees proper that those who are protected should pay tribute to their Protector. Also blood ees the life force. It must be spilt so that its spiritual essence may be returned in form off renewed vitality to persons who take part in such ritual. But perhaps you haf not yet strong enough desire to progress for overcoming prejudice off Europeans against rites off this kind?'

Under her bronze make-up Mary went a little pale. The appalling thought had suddenly struck her that Teddy's terrible end might be due to his having been offered up as a human sacrifice. To find out if Ratnadatta and his circle had had any part in bringing about Teddy's death was her sole object in cultivating the Indian, and it looked now as if, should he prove willing to take her to a meeting of Satanists, she might have to become an unwilling accomplice at some other hideous crime. Yet the only alternative to steeling herself to face such a possibility was to throw her hand in; so she said:

'The reason you give for making sacrifices is quite logical; so I should feel no qualms at witnessing such a ritual. Are they . . . are they performed often?'

'Four times a year we sacrifice a ram,' he replied quietly. 'That ees because the circle to weech I belong ees one off many Lodges scattered all over the world weech form the Brotherhood of the Ram.'

She suppressed a sigh of relief, but a moment later wondered if he was telling the whole truth, or only a part of it from fear of disclosing too dangerous a secret to her before he had better reason to feel confident he could trust her with it.

Leaning forward across the little table he went on, 'I haf now judge you and believe you are ripe for advancement. But first answer me plees. Question one. After what I haf tell you ees it still your earnest wish to receive enlightenment?�

Mary could now smell again the sweetish bad-lobster odour of his breath, but she showed no sign of the queasy feeling it gave her, and she replied firmly, 'It certainly is.'

'Question two. Do you agree to giff your whole will to developing your mind to a state in weech power can be entrusted to you?'

'Yes,' she nodded. 'To be given occult power is my dearest wish.'

'Question three. To achieve that are you willing to surrender yourself absolutely to Our Lord Satan for the furtherance off His work - the bringing off happiness to those who follow Him?' Again she said, 'Yes.'

'Good, very good,' he purred, much to her relief sitting back and sparing her further distress from the ill-conditioned interior of his fat little paunch. 'I haf instinct about you. I was right. And now I give you pleasant surprise. Tonight ees Saturday. It ees on Saturdays that my Lodge holds its meetings. You will not be made initiate tonight. No; not yet. Not till you haf seen for yourself something off the ancient mysteries. After, perhaps you feel fear to go on. Then ees still time to withdraw. Such decision show only that, after all, you are not yet ready to accept full truth. No harm done. But if after you again affirm will to proceed at a future meeting I introduce you as neophyte.'

Suddenly he again sat forward, and the hard little brown eyes behind the pebble glasses bored into hers. 'One thing more. You will mention never to anyone what you haf seen. Should you do that we will know off it. The ear off Our Lord Satan misses nothing. You would do better to commit suicide than live to face His retribution.'

'I ... yes. I quite understand,' she said in a low voice. 'It is very good of you indeed to give me this opportunity of ... of advancing along the true Path. Whereabouts is the meeting being held?'

He stood up. 'Until you become initiate, that I must keep secret from you. But soon I am now hoping that you will be a Sister off the Ram. If so, you will haf had great good fortune that it ees my Lodge that you join. For this year it ees granted power greater than all others, because the Great Ram has come to us from distant land to act temporarily as our earthly Master.'

After the unspecified but terrible fate with which Ratnadatta had threatened her should she betray them, Mary had been seized with sudden panic. Already she had made up her mind that, even if she failed to secure any evidence that they were connected with Teddy's death, but found that they were actively engaged in evil practices, she would give chapter and verse about them to Colonel Verney. Yet the threat brought to her mind the powers they might possess. It seemed certain, at least, that among them would be clairvoyants of far greater abilities than the sort of semi-amateur she had seen crystal gazing the first time she had gone to a meeting at Mrs. Wardeel's; and, perhaps, true mediums. If they were capable of overlooking her and traced her to Colonel Verney that might really place her in danger of her life.

The thought of the Colonel brought back to her the warning he had given her about the seriousness of the risk she would be running if she attempted to penetrate the secrets of a Black Magic circle; and Barney, too, had shown acute concern at the idea of her doing so. Although she had refused to recognise it before, she knew that they were right, and that it was madness for her to pit her wits against a whole group of clever, unscrupulous people who, she was now persuaded, could call on evil occult forces to aid them. Swiftly she began to seek an excuse by which she could back out while there was still time.

But with equal suddenness to the panic which had seized her, a memory now flashed into her mind. It was of one of Teddy's worst nightmares. In all of them he had muttered and raved, mostly incoherently, about Satan and hell, and even such absurdities as being chased by a black imp, but sometimes he cried out short sentences aloud. Once, just before she had woken him, he had shouted, 'The Ram! The Great Ram! Smoke is coming from him! He must be the Devil!'

At the time, she had hardly registered the words, taking them for just one more of Teddy's nightmare fantasies. But now, following on what Ratnadatta had said only a few moments before, they came back to her. And they made sense. The Great Ram was a man; the Master of Ratnadatta's Lodge. Here was the proof of what she had previously only suspected. Ratnadatta was the Indian Teddy had mentioned in his ravings and had taken him to the place where she believed he had met his death.

Like a bugle call rallying the remnants of a decimated squadron of cavalry to charge again, the knowledge that she had really hit on the right track caused strength and determination to flow back into her. Now, whatever might happen to her she knew that she must go through with it.

CHAPTER VI THE SATANIC TEMPLE

Ten minutes later Mary was again in a taxi with the Indian. He had spoken to the driver in so low a voice that she had been unable to overhear it; so she knew only that they were going in a northerly direction. Then, when the taxi had carried them only a few hundred yards, he produced a clean white handkerchief from his pocket, folded it carefully on his fat knees, and turning to her said:

'I haf told you that the place off meeting must be kept secret from you until you become initiate. Plees now, I put bandage over your eyes.'

Relieved, at least, that as he leaned towards her she had an excuse for turning her head away from him, she submitted, holding the handkerchief in place while he tied its ends behind over her brown dyed hair.

After the taxi had taken a few turnings she lost all sense of direction, and the drive seemed to her to last a long time; but, during it, she was saved from becoming a prey to nervous speculation by Ratnadatta's carrying on what almost amounted to a monologue upon matters of such interest that it soon engaged her mind.

His theme was ancient religions and, although Mary's knowledge of them was decidedly sketchy, she had read sufficiently to appreciate that the views he expressed threw a new, even if distorted, light on many things.

He explained to her that, just as the early Christians had been forced to go underground to avoid persecution by the government in Rome, so, when Christianity had later gained a hold on other governments, the followers of the Old religion had had to seek safety from the laws enacted against them by going underground. He said that the word 'witchcraft' had originally been 'wisecraft', derived from 'craft-of-the-wise', and that the belief that witches and wizards were necessarily evil people was a most mistaken one. Some had been charlatans, but a high percentage of them had been people who had passed through many incarnations, were initiates who understood the great truths, and so enjoyed occult power. And it was the recognition that they wielded such powers, and fear of them by the ignorant Christian priests, which had led to their persecution.

He then talked to her of the heavenly bodies, the influence they exerted on human beings, and how those influences could be made use of to further the interests of initiates who had learned the secret of timing their acts to coincide with cosmic rays most favourable to their success. By such means, he said, money could be acquired without working for it, positions secured, and either fertility or sterility made certain. But, he added, such operations needed to be undertaken only by initiates who were temporarily isolated from the Brotherhood, as at the meetings of its Lodges each Master was invested with the power to give swift aid to followers of the Path in achieving all their reasonable desires - as she was about to see for herself that night.

He was describing to her certain rain-making and fertility rites, still practised with success by peoples remote from civilization who had had handed down to them a little of the old wisdom, when the taxi at last drew up.

Quickly untying the handkerchief that blindfolded her, Ratnadatta got out. As he paid off the taxi she looked about her and saw that they were in a dark street, lined on both sides by mean houses. There was a little group of men in caps talking together outside a public house on the corner, but otherwise few people in sight.

Taking her arm, Ratnadatta hurried her along in the other direction. They turned a corner into another mean street along one side of which there was a high blank wall. At its end the wall continued at a right angle as one side of a narrow lane. Entering it they walked on for about a hundred yards. Mary saw then that it was a cul-de-sac, with an end that broadened out into a small court in which, with their lights out, half-a-dozen cars were parked.

On the left side of the court the wall merged into a large square brick house. Its tall windows showed not a chink of light, but a single low-power electric bulb made a pool of dim yellow radiance from over the stone pediment of its porch. Five steps, two of them cracked, led up to the porch which was flanked by fluted pillars. Above the broad front door, from which the paint was peeling, Mary noticed a fine Adam fan-light. It reminded her of the many in the older streets of Dublin, and she realized that this mansion, now surrounded by slums, must date back to Georgian days.

Ratnadatta pressed a bell push several times, as if he was using it to send a morse code signal. The door was opened and, stepping in, they came face to face with a heavy curtain that screened the interior as though it was a black-out precaution to prevent light shining into the street at a time when an air-raid threatened.

An end of the curtain was lifted and they sidled through, emerging into a small pillared hall with a wrought-iron balustraded staircase leading up from its centre. After the decayed appearance of the outside of the house, its inside came as a striking contrast. The hall was brightly lit by a sparkling crystal chandelier that hung from the centre of its ceiling, the cornices were gilded, the furniture was the finest Chippendale and two negro footmen in plain liveries bowed silently to Ratnadatta as he and Mary came in, then took their coats.

She wondered where the house was situated and, as the taxi had set off from Chelsea towards the north, she thought it might be in Islington, or one of those districts no great distance from the City in which rich nobles had long ago had their town residences. In any case it seemed probable that some wealthy family had held on to it for several generations, always hoping that the value of its site would increase, whereas it had gone down and down as the district in which it lay had gradually deteriorated into a slum area.

Before she had time to speculate further, Ratnadatta took her up the broad staircase and along a corridor to a curiously shaped room. It was low ceilinged, very long but quite narrow. Half way along it stood a table on which were several decanters and some light refreshments. Along the far wall were a row of half-a-dozen elbow chairs, all of which faced an unbroken line of heavy brocade curtains.

After a glance round, Mary assumed from the position of the chairs that the curtains must screen windows out of which anyone seated opposite them could look when the curtains were drawn back. While she was wondering how, in such a place, there could possibly be a prospect worthy of such elaborate arrangements for looking at, Ratnadatta had gone to the table and filled a wine glass from one of the decanters. Offering it to her with a bow he said:

'This you will like. It ees a rare wine coming from Greece. In old times it was great favourite with priestesses who serve the oracle at Delphi.'

On sipping the near-purple coloured liquid, she thought it tasted like a rich sherry in which aromatic herbs had been steeped. Finding it very pleasant she drank about half the contents of the glass. Ratnadatta meanwhile had helped himself to a lighter golden coloured wine, and remarked:

'For me something drier. Off this wine off Cyprus I am very fond. Come now. Be seated, plees, and soon I shall show you that I haf made no idle boast off the powers bestowed by Our Lord Satan on those who serve him well.'

They sat down side by side in two of the elbow chairs and for some ten minutes the Indian resumed his discourse on ancient rites; then, having glanced at his watch, he leaned forward and pulled a cord that drew back the pair of heavy curtains facing which they were seated. To Mary's surprise this did not reveal a window; only a blank wall covered in patterned satin; but in it, opposite each of the chairs, was what she at first took to be a ventilator, as it was an aperture about six inches square, covered with fine mesh wire netting.

Ratnadatta signed to her to look through it, and when her eyes came close to the wire she found that these secret observation posts gave an excellent view of a large and lofty room. She guessed that at one time it had probably been a banqueting hall, and the curious shaped room in which she was sitting a minstrels' gallery, opening into it. But now the former had more the appearance of a chapel. At its far end, covered with a broad strip of blood-red silk, was a long raised slab that looked as though it might be used as an altar. Beyond it stood a great carved throne of ebony, and behind that, tall red silk curtains having embroidered upon them in gold a design of two drop-shaped sections with curved tails interlocking to form a circle, which, although Mary did not know it, was the Yin and the Yang - the Eastern symbol for the male and female principles. In the body of the hall, to either side of a central aisle, instead of pews were ranged a dozen or more divans plentifully stocked with cushions of many colours, and from somewhere out of sight came the sounds of a band tuning up.

Down in the hall some twenty people were already assembled, and were being joined by others. They were coming in by a door that Mary could not see, as it was below the balcony in which she was sitting, but just within her range of vision there was a large table on which stood an array of bottles and glasses; and each newcomer helped himself to a drink from it before joining the earlier arrivals.

From the groups down below there came up a gentle murmur of conversation and from their behaviour they might have been guests at a perfectly respectable cocktail party. But one glance was enough to see that this gathering was far from being anything of that kind. Everyone present was wearing a small black satin mask, a narrow black velvet garter below the left knee and silver sandals, but little else. They had on only long cloaks of transparent veiling, sparsely decorated with silver suns, moons or signs of the Zodiac; so that the bodies of all of them were almost as fully revealed as if they had been naked. The party consisted of roughly equal numbers of both sexes; among the women there was an enormously fat negress and a young Chinese girl; among the men, two negroes, one of whom had white hair, an Indian and two who looked like Japanese.

The company was a mixture of all ages and although about a third of them had well proportioned figures the bodies of the majority were far from attractive. But there was nothing to suggest the obscene either in the decor of the temple or the attitudes of the people in it, and Mary decided that the single silver-spangled garments they wore, by softening the lines of thick hips, lean shanks, hanging breasts and pot-bellies, made the ugly ones considerably less repulsive to look at than if they had been morally irreproachable eccentrics standing about quite naked in a nudist camp.

Feeling uncertain what sort of reaction Ratnadatta would expect her to display at the sight of this spectacle, she played for safety by remarking: 'What a huge woman that negress is. I should think she must weigh twenty stone.'

He turned from his grille to nod to her. 'Yes, perhaps. She ees on a visit to London from Haiti. There she owns factories and a great estate. She ees a Lesbian and her riches enable her to indulge her tastes. At our last meeting I speak with her and she tell me that she keep twenty young girls in a harem for her pleasure.'

Mary suppressed a shudder of disgust and asked: 'Who is the very tall man with the fair wavy hair?�

'That I cannot disclose to you, because he has not spoken to me off himself. It ees our rule never to question one another, or speak off what we may learn by accident. I inform you about the negress only because she make no secret off who she ees or what she does.'

The unseen band was still apparently tuning up, as only a jumble of discordant notes came from it; so Mary remarked: 'The band seems to be taking a long time to get going.'

Ratnadatta turned to her again with a look of surprise. 'It ees not a band. It ees a recording off a piece by a young musician off great promise.'

'Then I don't think much of it,' she declared. 'It has no tune or rhythm. Like so much of this ultra-modern music, it's just a senseless series of discords that I should have thought anyone could throw together.'

'You are wrong,' he told her severely. 'And you must learn to like it. In recent times the arts haf made great strides. Musicians, painters, sculptors, haf broken away from tradition. That ees good; very good. They no longer follow slavishly tastes set by bourgeois society. This shows that they are persons fitting themselves for advancement and acceptance off the hidden truths. To all such, encouragement must be given. The work they do helps much to break down other conventions which strangle happiness off mankind.'

In any other circumstances Mary would have argued hotly that the beauty given to the world in the past by its great artists had made a contribution to the happiness of mankind that it was hard to equal, and that the monstrosities in stone, meaningless daubs on canvas, and ugly compositions of sound now being produced could bring pleasure to few people other than those with twisted minds; and that she believed that in most cases it was a wicked racket to get money out of wealthy fools who could be persuaded that such crudities would have a lasting value. But she naturally refrained from expressing her views and, to change the conversation, asked: 'Why do they all wear a single garter below their left knee?'

'It ees insignia off power,' Ratnadatta replied. 'Old as the world. To be seen as indication off priests even in Altamara cave drawings off primitive peoples.'

At that moment the recording came to an end and the crowd below began to settle themselves on the divans. On some two or three sat down together facing the altar, on others single individuals lounged at full length, their heads supported on one hand in the manner of Romans about to enjoy an entertainment or a feast. Suddenly a cracked trumpet sounded a single note. Complete silence fell and lasted for about three minutes. Then the trumpet sounded twice more and everyone stood up.

From under the balcony on which Mary and Ratnadatta were sitting a tall figure emerged, walked with slow stately step up the aisle and turned at the altar to face the congregation. Unlike them, he had no mask and was wearing a heavy robe of black satin, richly embroidered with mystic symbols in many colours. He also had on a high, pointed fool's cap similarly decorated. His face was that of a man in his sixties and judging from it he might have been a bishop, for it was round, smooth, pale and benign.

Ratnadatta said in a whisper, 'This ees not the Great Ram, but the High Priest that he haf temporarily replace. He holds the title Abaddon and has much power. But the Great Ram has more, far more. Presently he will come and grant wishes off all who desire.'

While he was speaking the congregation bowed to Abaddon and he bowed to them in return. In a melodious voice he said: 'Exalted Brethren of the Ram, as followers of the True Path, in the name of Our Lord Satan, I bid you welcome. Be seated and at your ease.'

The congregation bowed again and resumed their seats or lounging postures on the divans. He seated himself on the throne, then spoke again. 'I, Abaddon, am an ear of the Great One. Through me He listens to all you have to tell and through me He will distribute praise or blame.'

A scrawny middle-aged woman stood up, stepped quickly towards him and began to speak in a low voice. Mary strained her ears to catch what she was saying, but at that moment Ratnadatta pulled the curtain cord, so that the heavy curtains swished together, shutting off her view and all sounds from below.

'I regret,' he said, sitting back, 'but in turn they now make report off work each has carried out for pleasing Our Lord Satan since they last attend a meeting. Such it ees not fitting that you should hear until you are initiate. But haf patience, plees. Presently we look again. Meantime I get you another glass off wine.'

For the comfort of the nearly naked congregation the whole place had been thoroughly well heated, and up in the gallery it was almost stifling; so Mary's throat was a little parched. Yet, as he stood up and moved towards the table, she wondered if she ought to drink any more. She had found the herb-flavoured wine delicious, but felt sure that it was unusually potent stuff and suspected that the slight dizziness she had been feeling for some while past might be due to it, rather than to the overheated atmosphere. Caution prompting her to play for safety, she said, 'Would you mind if I had a soft drink instead?�

'If you prefer,' he replied without a trace of hesitation. 'We haf here a drink weech ees made from mangoes and other fruits. It ees good, very good. I mix you some with soda, and a lump of ice, yes?�

It proved another strange but delicious drink and, acquitting him of the suspicion that the wine he had given her might have contained a small dose of some subtle drug, she quenched her thirst gratefully with the iced fruit drink.

During the next half-hour he talked to her about the old gods and goddesses of several countries and the truths which lay behind the mythology concerning them. He told her that they had all been actual people, on earth in their last incarnations, and so capable of calling down supernatural powers; that the word Pagan, as a term of opprobrium, had not been applied to them until much later, and then by misguided priests who taught that salvation could be achieved only by leading a dreary life of chastity, humility and self-denial; but that in fact they had been enlightened beings, bringing great happiness to the world when it was young and so for many generations afterwards rightly venerated by their peoples.

As Mary listened to him the time sped swiftly by. Her head continued to be a little muzzy but the sensation had no resemblance to the feeling she normally had on occasions when she knew that she ought to refuse another drink. She felt wonderfully alert, her nerves were steady, and the fears about what might happen to her that had agitated her mind on her first entering this hidden mansion had entirely vanished.

In the last few minutes Ratnadatta had twice taken a quick look down into the temple and when, after a third reconnaissance, he again pulled the curtain right back, she sat forward eagerly to see what was going on.

The congregation was still spread about upon the divans and some were talking in hushed voices, but there was an air of expectancy about them and many kept glancing in the direction of the altar. The High Priest, Abaddon, was now seated to one side of it on a low chair. He had taken off his fool's cap and Mary saw that he had a big dome-shaped head that was completely bald. Another low chair on the opposite side of the altar had been taken by a tall fair-haired woman with fine classical features who, Ratnadatta told Mary, was the High Priestess of the Lodge. The cracked trumpet blared out its single note. Instantly those who had been whispering together fell silent. One minute passed, two, three, four, five, without anything happening. Those minutes seemed to drag interminably while an utter silence was maintained and the strain of expectancy mounted. Two more full minutes passed, then the trumpet blared out six long blasts. At the first the whole congregation rose, Abaddon and the High Priestess with them, and stood with bowed heads.

The blood-red curtains behind the altar moved slightly but did not appear to part. Afterwards Mary wondered if her eyes had closed for a few seconds, though she felt sure they had not. Yet at one minute there was nothing to be seen between the curtains and the back of the throne, and the next a man was standing there.

As he moved out from behind it she drew a sharp breath and her heart began to beat furiously. The man was tall and slim. His body was encased in black tights from shoulder to wrists and ankles. Round his waist he wore a loose, narrow belt which was entirely encrusted with flashing precious stones and weighed down to one side by a jewelled dagger. Upon his breast dangled a golden winged phallus suspended from a necklace of large pearls alternating with equally large rubies, and below his left knee was buckled an inch-deep garter shimmering with the green fire of priceless emeralds. Only the lower part of his face could be seen. It was thin, with an aggressive, deeply cleft chin above which was a full, startlingly scarlet mouth. His upper features and the top of his head were hidden under a mask fashioned to represent the big black bulbous nose, the slit eyes and the great curling horns of a Ram.

Seating himself on the carved ebony throne he leaned back, crossed his long legs, and cried in a harsh, intolerant voice: 'Children of my Office. From High matters I spare time to preside over this Lodge again. By the favour of Our Lord Satan I have the power to grant your wishes, should it please me to do so. Waste no moment in unnecessary babbling or you will incur my anger. Now; lift up your heads and tell me your desires.'

His English was correct and fluent but he spoke with a curious accent that Mary could not place, and she thought it unlikely that he had been born an Englishman.

As though he had threatened to leave before half the congregation had had a chance to crave something from him, they all launched themselves forward, tumbling over one another in their endeavours to be first at the altar. A cynical smile twisted his scarlet lips for a moment; then, lifting one hand, he cried, 'Stop! Remain still!'

Instantly the crowd halted, and seemed rooted where they stood.

Pointing a finger at an elderly woman who had succeeded in nearly reaching his throne and was now on her knees beside it, he said, 'You! What do you ask?'

'My sight, Master!' she wailed. 'It is almost gone and the specialists can do nothing for me.'

Leaning forward he ripped the mask from her face and spat first into one of her eyes then into the other.

She cowered back, blinked for a moment, then gave an hysterical shriek of delight. 'A miracle! A miracle! I can see clearly again! Praised be the name of our Lord Satan! Blessings on the Great Ram!'

Still gibbering her thanks she began to slobber kisses on his feet, but he kicked her away and turned to a weedy looking man on his left.

'Master!' said the man hoarsely, 'I am a Harley Street psychiatrist. Through overwork I am losing my power to hypnotize, although I always guide patients in the way Our Lord Satan

would wish me to.' The Great Ram touched him between the eyes with one finger, and said, 'Your power is restored.'

A haggard woman at whom he next looked cried: 'Master, I need heroin. My supplier has been arrested. I beseech you to direct me to a new one.'

'Fool!' he snapped at her. 'If you have neither the wit to secure it nor the will to do without it, you are no longer fitted for Our Lord Satan's service. Return here in seven days and if your . condition is not satisfactory, I will cause you to die in a fit.'

As the woman reeled away sobbing, the huge negress got her turn. In a deep voice she rumbled, �I�se a stranger in London. My voodoo don't work well here. I's got a yen fer a little white gell, Master. Give me a love charm so I'll get her.'

With a smile the Great Ram plucked a hair from a part of his mask that was made of ram's wool, gave it to her, and said, 'Cause her to swallow that and she will be yours.'

A thickset man cried, 'Me too, Master! I am half crazy for a stubborn woman and I beg a love charm.'

The mouth of the fearsome figure on the throne drew into a hard line, then opened to reply, 'The last was a special case. Because she is a stranger to England her vibrations do not beget reactions here. If yours are too weak to accomplish your object, consult with Abaddon. You should know better than to trouble me about such a minor matter.'

The younger of the two negroes begged to be cured of a lung complaint that he had contracted owing to the damp climate of Britain. The Great Ram laid a hand upon his chest and told him that he was cured.

One of the more attractive women said that she was pregnant, and that as she had a weak heart she was afraid either to use drugs or have an illegal operation. She was told to stand aside until the rest had been dealt with.

Another of the younger women said, 'Master, I am the secretary of a junior Minister. He may go far, and if I could induce him to fall for me I could make use of him in furthering Our Lord Satan's work. But I am not good-looking enough to tempt him.'

The Great Ram stood up, drew the girl into a close embrace and gave her a long kiss on the mouth. Mary was too far off to see the full details of the transformation, but that one had taken place was beyond dispute. As the girl stepped back her hips looked slimmer, she held herself better so that she seemed taller, her previously slack breasts had filled out, and her lank lustreless hair had become a crown of shimmering curls.

A gaunt, middle-aged man said, 'Master, I am a publisher. Everything that I have published since joining the Brotherhood has in some form been slanted against either capitalism or Christianity or accepted conventions. But such books do not sell well with the people who can best afford to buy; and I have nearly exhausted my capital. What shall I do?�

After looking straight into his eyes for a moment, the Great Ram replied: 'I can see that you have had an interesting life, so I bestow upon you the gift of writing. Write a book based on your own experiences. Abaddon will arrange that it shall be made into a film. Its rights will bring you several thousand pounds.'

One of the two Japanese put a hand to his sleek dark hair, gave a pull and, as it was a wig, it came off, revealing a completely bald skull. 'Master!' he said in a sibilant voice. 'Through an illness two years ago I lost all my hair. Rude people mock at me, and it is a great handicap when making love to women. I beg you make it grow again.'

The Great Ram laid a hand on the man's head. When he withdrew it the bald pate was no longer shining but faintly coloured with a first sprouting of fine dark fluff. 'Do not brush it for a month,' he said. 'By then it will have grown an inch, and it will continue to do so.'

So it went on, cures and favours being distributed to all, except for a few who were turned away on account of their requests being either ill regarded or considered too trivial. Mary sat spellbound, her gaze riveted on the scene. She now felt certain that both the wine and the fruit juice she had drunk must have contained some drug, as every few minutes she found some difficulty in focusing her eyes, but the thought did not worry her, for the drug had also made her feel happy and exhilarated. The sight of the uglier of the semi-nude people down below no longer filled her with revulsion; they now inspired in her only a wish to know more of them as interesting human beings, and to miss nothing of these extraordinary proceedings.

She had not long to wait before she witnessed a more astounding manifestation of the Great Ram's powers than any she had yet seen. When the last request had been dealt with, he spoke to the pregnant woman whom he had told to stand aside, and ordered her to lay herself at full length on the altar. Now, standing in front of his throne, and about a yard away from her, he let his chin fall on his chest so that the lower part of his face became hidden by the mask, from either side of which protruded the fearsome curling horns. For some minutes, while the congregation watched with bated breath, he remained quite still, a tall black-clad figure, either deep in contemplation or concentrating intensely. Almost imperceptibly at first, a faint mist began to obscure his legs from the knees down. It thickened, becoming like smoke, and increased in height until it formed a dark oval cloud hiding his limbs from the feet to half-way up his thighs.

Suddenly it solidified. Mary gave a gasp of astonishment and horror. She blinked her eyes, sat back, rubbed them, then looked again. She could still hardly believe it, yet she knew she was not dreaming. The dark cloud had become a grinning black imp; the imp of Teddy's nightmares.

The creature was not like a child, but was a perfectly formed manikin, about thirty inches high. It had a pot belly, long pointed ears, but no hair, and its red eyes glowed like live coals in its pitch-black face.

Neither it nor its creator moved for what seemed an immensely long time, but was in fact about two minutes. Then the small supernatural monster began to disintegrate, but only so far as to become again a dense black cloud. In that form it began to oscillate and lengthen until it turned into a swiftly whirling spiral of thick oily looking smoke. The spiral straightened to a five-foot long upright streak. Its upper point curved over, shot downwards like a diving aircraft and entered the body of the woman lying on the altar.

Her eyes were shut, there had been no sound, and evidently she remained unaware that anything was happening to her -until the whole of the evil spirit had disappeared inside her. Then she began to writhe and murmur, but her paroxysm was of short duration. In less than a minute her dark invader streaked out of her, spiralled, reformed into a cloud, solidified and again became a black imp standing in front of its master.

With a gasp she sat up, looked round in astonishment then, catching sight of the imp, gave a cry of terror.

'Silence woman!' It was the voice of the Great Ram, still clear but now seeming to come from a long way away. 'I have destroyed the new life in your body. Go home at once and do what there is to do. In an hour's time you will have been freed from your trouble.'

Getting up from the altar, the woman made a movement as though she intended to throw herself at his feet in gratitude, but evidently she was too frightened of the imp, which stood between her and him, to do so. Instead she made an awkward curtsey, called out, 'Oh, thank you! Thank you! Blessed be Satan's name!' Then, her hair dishevelled and her muslin cloak flying out behind her, she ran from the temple.

The voice of the Great Ram came again. 'Prepare to receive through me the Benediction of Our Lord Satan, that you may be fitted to honour the Creator by the rite symbolical of His work.'

At this order the congregation swiftly formed up in two lines facing the altar. For a few moments complete silence and stillness reigned again. Then the imp moved forward from the dais on which the Great Ram was standing, jumped soundlessly down on to the floor of the temple and, like a General inspecting troops, moved slowly along the front rank, but pausing for a moment in front of every individual. As it did so each was shaken by a sudden shudder, and some uttered a low cry.

As the two lines of men and women had their backs to Mary, and the imp was so much shorter than they were, she could catch glimpses of it only as it passed from one to another; so in a whisper she said to Ratnadatta:

'What is it doing to them?�

The Indian whispered back. 'He ees touching the genitals off each. Through him, in this way, their sexual powers are restored or increased. It enable them to enjoy with more frequency than others, yet without tiredness.'

When the imp had completed its round it returned to its place in front of the Great Ram; its outline began to quiver, slowly it disintegrated into a ball of smoke, then the smoke faded into mist and the mist dispersed, leaving the air clear. Since producing this terrible familiar the Great Ram had remained with bowed head and as still as a statue. Now he raised his head, gave himself a slight shake and in a few swift strides walked round the throne to take up his first position with his back to the tall blood-red curtains. The congregation bowed their heads. With his left hand he made the sign of the cross upside down. There came a faint movement of the curtains and he disappeared as mysteriously as he had arrived.

An audible sigh of relief went up from the congregation. Abaddon then rose from the seat to one side of the altar, which he had occupied all this time, and addressed them:

'Brothers and Sisters of the Ram. Tonight there will be no further ceremonies. Seven nights hence we meet again. All should attend unless engaged that evening on the work of Our Lord Satan. I need hardly remind you that three Saturdays hence is Walpurgis Nacht, and a feast of obligation. As is customary, that night we shall symbolically sacrifice ourselves by offering up the life-blood of a ram to Him who has illimitable power. Now, be at your ease, and rejoice while appeasing those appetites given by the Creator to mankind with the object of making the world a happy place to live in. Do what thou wilt shall be the Whole of the Law.'

As he ceased speaking, the congregation broke its ranks, resumed its early carefree chatter, and some of them began to move the divans so that they should form a big circle. Others carried low tables from the sides of the hall, setting one down in front of each divan, while others again fetched dishes of food and bottles of wine to set upon them.

Before the arrangements for this next phase of the Satanists' activities was completed, Ratnadatta again pulled the curtains, then said to Mary: 'Now they make jolly feasting and afterwards they enjoy to dance. But that there ees no point in your remaining to see. Also I wish soon as possible to join them. So now we go.' Mary thought it highly probable that the party would end in an orgy; so she would have liked to stay on in order to find out if those who wished were allowed to leave before it took place, and if the rest paired off in couples or they all became involved in a general drunken melee. But as Ratnadatta had announced his intention of joining the party as soon as he was rid of her, she had no option but to let him take her away.

Down in the front hall they retrieved their coats, then went out into the dark courtyard. The half-dozen parked cars were still there and Ratnadatta remarked to her, 'Only those who live at a distance outside London are permit to park cars here. Otherwise too many make for undesirable comment in neighbourhood. But I haf ordered taxi weech meet us not far off.'

Again they walked through the mean, now deserted, streets, until they emerged opposite one of the new, featureless blocks of flats that since the war have been erected in all the poorer parts of London. On the corner a taxi was standing with its flag down. As they approached it the driver leaned from his cab and said:

'Would you be Mr. Smithers?'

'Yes,' nodded Ratnadatta. 'I regret if we haf kept you waiting for long.'

'That's all right,' the taxi man replied gruffly. 'The garage wot sent me guaranteed my fare, and said you was a generous gent as would give me a good tip. 'Op in. Where d'you want ter go?�

The Indian handed Mary into the cab then, in a low voice, gave the driver his instructions. Within a few moments of the taxi moving off Ratnadatta again produced the folded handkerchief and Mary once more submitted to having her eyes bandaged.

'Now,' said Ratnadatta, as soon as he had knotted the handkerchief behind her head, 'what feelings haf you about what you haf witness tonight?�

'I was positively staggered,' she replied. 'For a lot of the time I felt frightened, of course. I'd have been terrified if I had not had you with me. And I'd never have believed such things could happen if I hadn't seen them with my own eyes. But I was fascinated; absolutely fascinated.'

'You haf not then too great fears to wish to proceed?�

'No. If other women can screw up the courage to face things like . . . like that black imp, I don't see why I shouldn't too.'

'Good, very good,' he purred. 'But there ees one other matter on which I must talk with you. Earlier I haf spoken much this evening upon subject off fertility rites performed by primitive peoples. I now giff you reason why they still practise such rites. It ees because they haf had great truth handed down from generation to generation that sex ees the most potent off all magics. By act off it alone can men and women enter into communion with Him who represents Creator. This explains why custom was in ancient times for every maiden to go to temple and offer her virginity to first stranger. That way, you understand, she make her first communion, Not to plees self with lover off choice. That to come afterwards. But first with whoever Our Lord Satan may choose for her as His representative. In my country are many fine temples open to public where this tradition ees still observed.'

'It is what is known as sacred prostitution, isn't it?' Mary asked in a low voice.

'Yes plees; you are right. But proper expression ees Service to Temple; and all who wish to become Sisters off the Ram must observe this ritual before they become initiate. You understand?�

'But I am not a virgin,' she objected quickly. 'No matter. The offering off yourself will be accepted as symbolic off act weech you would haf performed had you received right teaching when younger.'

Much that Ratnadatta had said over dinner had left no doubt in Mary's mind that initiation into the Brotherhood of the Ram would be a very different business from the purely spiritual promotion with which the leading Theosophists encouraged their most earnest adherents, and all she had seen in the past hour had confirmed her belief that an assurance that she was willing to submit herself to some form of sexual baptism would be demanded of her before she could get much further. From the beginning she had recognized that if Teddy had been murdered by Satanists, and she was to succeed in penetrating their circle, that would almost certainly be the price she would have to pay; but it had then been only a possibility for future consideration. Now she was called on to decide whether she really would go to such lengths.

She was not in love with, or pledged to, anyone; and to give herself to a man she had only just met would be no new experience. To some extent she was still affected by the mild aphrodisiac that Ratnadatta had given her in her drinks, and the image of the very tall man, with his splendid torso, rippling muscles and fair wavy hair, came into her mind, making her feel that, as a purely physical act, service to the temple might well prove enjoyable. At worst she would find it no more repugnant than one or two particularly unpleasant nights which she could recall having had to spend with half-drunken men during her black year in Dublin, and it would be over much sooner.

Nevertheless, there were limits beyond which she was not prepared to go. She had never even spoken to a coloured man until she had met Ratnadatta, and had all a normal white woman's prejudice against physical contact with them. What if one of the negroes or orientals who had been at the meeting was selected as the stranger to whom she had to offer up her symbolic virginity, or - worse - Ratnadatta himself. At the thought of his hot little hands upon her and his foul breath in her face, her stomach nearly turned over.

A shade impatiently, he asked: 'Well, haf you made up your mind? Since you are not a virgin and haf had several lovers why do you hesitate? You haf nothing to be frightened off. Come plees; tell me your decision.'

Suddenly she saw a possible way to safeguard herself from the sort of ordeal she felt that she could not possibly face, and answered shrewdly, 'While we were at dinner you told me that the sole creed of the Brotherhood was "Do what thou wilt shall be the Whole of the Law". That does not square with the possibility that I might find the first man who wanted me repugnant, and so intensely dislike the idea of having to give myself to him.'

Before replying Ratnadatta, in his turn, hesitated for a moment, then he said in the reassuring tone that a father might have used to a child afraid to enter a swimming pool: 'About that you need feel no concern. Our Lord Satan wishes joy to all who are prepared to serve Him. His High Priests decree matters so that partners in the Creation rite are well suited to one another.'

'In that case,' said Mary, 'I still wish to be accepted as an initiate.'

'Good; very good.' He sounded pleased, although not particularly so. 'You may congratulate yourself. Wisdom acquired in your past lives has again conquered inhibitions with weech your upbringing shackled you in this. I shall set your feet firmly on the Path for good life obtained by power to influence minds off others.'

A moment later she felt his fingers at the back of her head, untying the handkerchief that blindfolded her, and he added: 'Now you haf taken decision it ees not necessary to drive long way round about. Excuse plees that I shall drop you here; but so I am sooner back.'

On looking about her Mary saw that the taxi was moving eastwards and running up towards Hyde Park Corner. As they neared the bus stop, Ratnadatta said, 'I see you at Mrs. Wardeel's on Tuesday, yes? After that again on Saturday. You meet me plees at Tube Station as before. But this time later; at nine thirty o'clock.' Then he tapped on the window for the taxi to stop They wished each other good night, she got out and the taxi carried him on in the direction of Piccadilly.

It was not yet quite midnight so the buses were still running. After a wait of five minutes she got one, and as she looked round at her fellow passengers she wondered what they would think if they knew how she had spent the evening. Had she told them, she knew that they would never believe her, and would put her down as mad. But she was not mad, and the possession of such a secret gave her a feeling of superiority over them. All the same, by the time the bus set her down in Cromwell Road, the excitement that had buoyed her up for the past two hours was rapidly draining away.

Making as little noise as possible she crept upstairs and on reaching her little flat made herself a cup of coffee. As she drank it she visualized again the extraordinary things she had witnessed. On a sudden impulse she gave her arm a hard pinch to make certain that she was not dreaming.

She was not. That hideous black imp and the pregnant woman had not been part of a nightmare. She had really seen them. And she had arranged to go to the temple again with Ratnadatta next Saturday. If she did, she would have to submit to initiation. While the Indian had been talking to her about it that had not seemed too high a price to pay for the chance of identifying Teddy's murderers. But now, at the thought of those evil near-naked servants of the Devil, with whom she would have to feast and dance, a wave of panic and revulsion swept through her. Teddy was dead. Nothing she could do would bring him back to life. It was madness to place herself in the power of such people for the slender hope of being able to revenge him. Her nerve would break and she would give herself away. Suddenly she reversed her recent decision. She would not go on Saturday; or to Mrs. Wardeel's on Tuesday, either. She would make a clean break while there was still time, and try to forget the whole awful business as soon as possible.

CHAPTER VII AN UNFORTUNATE - ACCIDENT (?)

On Sunday morning Mary lay late in bed. The emotions that had agitated her the previous night had taken a lot out of her, and she felt tired and listless. As she thought over all that Ratnadatta had told her of the ancient cult, she had to admit to herself that many of his arguments in its favour were logical and, perhaps, contained a sub-stratum of truth. Yet that did not alter the fact that the advantages obtained by its few unscrupulous adherents must be gained at the expense of many honest decent people, and its amoral teachings be a menace to family life, high principles, and everything that went to make a well-ordered world.

But, in any case, she had not been seeking to obtain power for herself, and her resolution to be done with Ratnadatta and all to do with the occult remained unchanged.

That left her with a new problem. What was she now to do with herself? She could not yet pick up the threads of her old life where she had left them, because before leaving Wimbledon she had gone to an estate agent, told him she was going to Ireland, given him the keys of her flat and asked him to let it furnished for her for three months for the best price he could get.