The Satanist

Angry and miserable, she ate her solitary lunch; but, by the time she finished it, she had decided that it was stupid to spend the rest of the day alternately fuming and moping. She would get out in the fresh air in the afternoon and go to a cinema in the evening.

Putting on her things she went out, walked down to the Earls Court Road, and took a bus to Wimbledon. A blustering wind was blowing which made it less pleasant than when she had last been there, but she strode determinedly across the Common and, after a two-hour walk, ate a hearty tea. By then the wind had dropped and a sunny evening bid fair to usher in good weather for early May, so she did not hurry home and it was getting on for seven o'clock when she got back to the Cromwell Road. Feeling much less depressed after her outing, she pushed open the front door of the house; and there, in the downstairs hall, she found Ratnadatta waiting for her.

CHAPTER XIII DEAD MEN'S SHOES

No steps having been taken by Ratnadatta to find out why she had failed to attend the last meeting at Mrs. Wardeel's had lulled Mary into a false sense of security; so suddenly to come upon him there was a most unpleasant shock. Her heart began to hammer wildly. Concealing her agitation as well as she could, she returned his 'Good evening'.

He had come to his feet and, fixing her with his round brown eyes, through the thick-lensed spectacles, he asked: 'Why haf you not come to Mrs. Wardeel's on Tuesday?'

In a voice that sounded firmer than she had expected, she replied: 'I couldn't. I ate something for lunch that day that upset me. It made me quite ill, and by the evening I was running a temperature.'

To her relief he did not appear to have detected that she was lying. Instead, he smiled his toothy smile and said: 'To hear that I am sorry. But I see you haf quite recovered. That ees good, very good; because I haf pleasant news for you. Soon now you are given the test weech ees the second stage towards your initiation.'

Mary strove to control her rising panic. Barney might be a rotten little twister, but he had convinced her that to have anything further to do with Ratnadatta would be asking for real trouble. She must get out of it somehow, give him the soft answer that turneth away wrath, then go into hiding before the date he had evidently come to make with her. Keeping her voice level she asked:

'When is it to be?'

'Why, tonight,' he replied in evident surprise that she had not understood that from what he had said. 'I telephone you this morning, I telephone you this afternoon, and both times you haf been out. So I come to fetch you. For this you receive instruction before the meeting. Perhaps we arrive a little early; but for me to go and come back for you in half-an-hour ees no point.'

'I... I've been out all day, and I'd like to change my clothes,' she faltered.

'It is unnecessary. You change at the Temple; bath too, if you wish. Come, plees, with me now.'

Desperately she sought in her mind for a way to get rid of him even for ten minutes so that she could make a bolt for it before he returned. But to say that she must go up to her flat before she went out was useless. He would wait for her down there in the hall. Yet she could think of nothing else.

Suddenly she remembered her crucifix. As Barney had suggested, she was carrying it in her handbag. He had been confident that using it would enable her to defy Ratnadatta. She must nerve herself to get it out, hold it in front of the Indian's face and order him to leave the house.

Opening her bag, she fumbled for it; but on looking down, her glance fell on the shoes Ratnadatta was wearing. They were of brown leather and hand-made; but, across the toe-cap of the left one, there was a dark scar that no amount of polishing had been able to remove.

Mary's downcast eyes dilated. For a moment they remained riveted upon the scarred toe-cap with the same fascinated horror that a bird's eyes are held by a snake.

'Come,' said Ratnadatta, a shade impatiently. 'There ees nothing for you to be frightened off. Why do you hesitate?'

Her fingers had found the crucifix but they did not grip it. With a supreme effort, she fought down an impulse to let her mouth open in a scream. She would have known anywhere the shoes that Ratnadatta had on. They had belonged to her dead husband.

Taking a sudden resolution, she withdrew her hand from the crucifix and closed her bag. Then, in a husky voice that belied her words, she said: 'I'm not frightened. It's only that I was not expecting you this evening. Let's get a taxi.'

Shoes had been one of Teddy's few extravagances. It had been his custom to have a pair made for him once a year by Lobb of St. James's Street, and this last pair had been spoiled by an infuriating accident. The second time he had had them on he had been putting a broken kitchen plate in the dustbin; the lid of the bin had dropped back unexpectedly, knocking the pieces of plate from his hand, and the largest had fallen on the toe-cap, making an inch-long gash across the highly glazed leather. She had polished the shoe afterwards a dozen times in the hope of working the scar out, but it remained as a dark streak that there was no disguising, so he had said that he would take the shoe back to Lobb's and have a new toe-cap put on. That had been about a month before his death, and during those last weeks his mind had been so pre-occupied with the work on which he was engaged that he had never done so. And now Ratnadatta was wearing those shoes.

It was the proof of what Mary had long suspected. Teddy had met his death at the hands of the Brotherhood of the Ram. More, it showed that Ratnadatta had been personally concerned in his murder. The Indian must have noticed that Teddy had about the same size feet as himself, suddenly coveted the pair of fine, almost new, handmade shoes and exchanged them for his own before Teddy's body had been taken down to the docks.

In another moment Mary would have drawn the crucifix from her bag and defied Ratnadatta, but this sudden revelation caused an immediate change in her mental attitude. Fear of what might happen to her if she involved herself further with the Brotherhood, and an increasing sense of the hopelessness of pitting her wits against such a powerful organization, had determined her to keep her promise to Barney, for his having let her down had no bearing on that; but now, her five weeks of anxious probing had suddenly brought results so definite that she could not possibly ignore them. In less than a minute, she had nerved herself afresh to take up once more her dangerous task. No matter what befell her, she must continue her association with the Satanists and worm her way into their confidence until she obtained the full story of Teddy's murder.

Still in a daze, she accompanied Ratnadatta out into the street and, after waiting a few minutes, they got a passing taxi. Her previous visits to the Temple had been after dark, but they were on their way there much earlier now and it was still daylight; so he turned to her and said:

'To blindfold you this evening would not be good. The taxi-man perhaps see and think something funny. Almost now you are one off us, so no great matter if you know where the Temple ees. Should you fail in test, then I hypnotize you and you forget place to weech you haf been taken. If your failure off test ees not too bad, perhaps you be permitted later to take a second time. But you will not fail. I haf full confidence.'

His words had the effect on Mary of a further shot of a stimulating drug. That she was to be allowed to know the whereabouts of the Temple came as a swift first payment for her renewed resolution to carry on with her dangerous mission. It determined her to face the test boldly and go through with it if she possibly could; so that afterwards there would be no question of depriving her of that valuable knowledge. But her mind was still half engaged on the shoes.

After Verney had broken the news of Teddy's death to her, Inspector Thompson of the Special Branch had called and informed her that he was conducting the official enquiry. She had given him all the help she could by making a long statement and, on two subsequent occasions before she left Wimbledon, he had come to the flat again to ask her further questions. On one of these he had told her that, in due course, Teddy's clothes would be returned to her but for the time being they wished to keep them at the Yard to complete various tests, and she had thought no more of the matter.

Now she realized that, had the clothes been sent back, or shown to her, she would at once have spotted that the shoes taken from Teddy's feet were not his own; whereas the police, having no reason to suppose that a substitution had taken place, must still be ignorant of that fact. It dawned on her then that not only did Ratnadatta's possession of Teddy's shoes indicate that he had been an accomplice in the murder; those that the police held were almost certain to be his and, if so, they constituted most damning evidence against him. They were a rope round his neck, and she now had only to let Colonel Verney know of her discovery for it to lead to the Indian's arrest.

This thought fired a train of new ones. She need not become a Sister of the Ram, after all. By another visit to the Temple she could have hoped only to pick up a hint. No one there would tell her what had actually happened to Teddy until they knew her well enough to trust her fully. To get that far she would have to submit to initiation and attend several more meetings. Even then she might not secure anything approaching such concrete evidence as was provided by this exchange of shoes. A merciful God had taken her will for the deed, sparing her the ordeal of debasing herself and participating in further horrible blasphemies. The job she had set herself to do was as good as done. She need not even go again to the Temple that evening - if only she could manage to get away from Ratnadatta.

Better still - the idea sprang to her mind - have him arrested. As soon as she saw a policeman she would hammer on the taxi window for the driver to stop and shout to the policeman for help. When he came running up she would identify the shoes on Ratnadatta's feet as her husband's, denounce him as a murderer, and have him taken into custody.

The taxi had headed south down Collingham Road and was now running through the Boltons. It was a quiet residential district, but she hoped that she would sight a policeman either as they crossed, or turned into, the busy Fulham Road.

Before they reached it, another thought struck her. What if the policeman refused to believe her? Ratnadatta was no fool. It was certain he would say that she was suffering from delusions and he was taking her to a nursing home, or some such story. Could the policeman refuse to take them to the Station? That seemed unlikely. Yet he might. And, if he did, on that one cast she would have lost everything. She could refuse to re-enter the taxi with Ratnadatta but, before she could get hold of Colonel Verney, the Indian would have got rid of the tell-tale shoes and be calling on the Great Ram to exert his terrible powers against her.

Reluctantly she decided that she dared not risk such a gamble. She must free herself from Ratnadatta in some other way, so that he would have no suspicion that she was anything other than he believed her to be. Then she would go straight to Colonel Verney.

A sudden illness was the thing. A pretended heart attack? No, that would be overdoing it. She had assured Ratnadatta, when he had questioned her about her health on the evening when he had given her dinner, that physically she was as sound as a bell. At the time she had wondered why he had asked, but later realized that he had done so as a precaution against having a young woman on his hands who might collapse from fright at the sight of the black imp. But a faint. She could preface it by saying she felt ill owing to a combination of overwork and banting. The reluctance she had shown to come with him would substantiate that. If she pretended to pass out for long enough, that should do the trick. It could be taken as certain that he had not told the taxi man to drive up to the mansion, and he could not carry her the last quarter of a mile; so he would have no option but to take her home.

By this time they had traversed Park Walk, and were crossing the Kings Road towards the river. As they reached the Chelsea Embankment and turned south-west along it, another thought struck her. She was being taken to the Temple with her eyes unbandaged. If she played her bluff and it succeeded she would lose the chance of finding out where the mansion lay. And she had no idea where Ratnadatta lived. The police should be able to pick him up at Mrs. Wardeel's on the coming Tuesday evening; but, even under intensive questioning, he might refuse to disclose the whereabouts of the Temple and to give any information about his fellow Satanists, some of whom must have been his accomplices in Teddy's murder.

Henry of Navarre, she remembered, had cynically remarked that 'Paris was worth a Mass'. Compressing her lips she decided that to ensure the round-up of the Brotherhood would be compensation enough for almost any degrading act she might be called on to perform as an earnest of her willingness to serve Satan. Ratnadatta had repeatedly assured her that her initiation would not come until later, and he had even said a few minutes back that he expected her business to be through soon after nine. He had not lied to her about last time, so she had no reason to suppose that he was doing so now.

All being well, if Colonel Verney was at home she could be with him by ten o'clock. It should not take him long to get Scotland Yard moving. By eleven, or half-past at the latest, a police cordon could be thrown round the Temple; they would raid the place, catch the Brotherhood of the Ram near-naked in the midst of their Saturday celebrations and, by midnight, have the whole evil crew in the bag.

Mary had barely made up her mind to take anything that might be coming to her during the next hour and a half in order to achieve this master stroke, when the taxi turned away from the river, ran for a few hundred yards up a side-street, and slowed to a stop. Since the night on which she had been received as a neophyte she had realized that the Temple could not be so far away from Sloane Square as North London but, all the same, she was surprised to find that it was actually within ten minutes' drive of Cromwell Road. Having taken her resolve, she made no demur about getting out and, after Ratnadatta had paid off the taxi, walking with him through the mean streets to the entrance to the alley which was now familiar to her.

In the courtyard at its end no cars were yet parked and, now that she saw the front of the mansion for the first time in daylight, she realized more fully how abandoned it appeared. Obviously none of its windows had been opened for many years. Some of the panes of glass were cracked and others missing. In the corners, generations of spiders had spun their webs and, in two places where panes were missing, sparrows had built nests. Behind all the grimy windows were stout wooden shutters that had once been painted white, but were now grey with dirt and mottled where the paint was peeling from them.

As Mary went up the cracked stone steps with Ratnadatta, she was intrigued to see at one side of the front door a small board on which faded capitals announced 'kemson's depository for title deeds', and underneath in script, 'Antiquarian Society for Estate Research. Meetings Saturdays 9.00 p.m.' It struck her as a clever cover for the permanently closed windows - as a casual observer would have assumed that behind them were rooms stacked high with dusty files - and for the Satanists who gathered there on Saturday nights since, despite the derelict appearance of the house, people in the immediate neighbourhood must have known that it was occupied and that on certain evenings both cars and pedestrians turned down the cul-de-sac to it.

Next moment, as Ratnadatta rang the bell, her mind was again filled with nervous fears about the test they intended to give her. Barney had said that to play with Black Magic was to play with filth as well as fire, and she knew that he was right. Whatever they asked her to do would, she felt sure, be against her conscience, and it might call for some act so physically disgusting that nausea would render her unable to accomplish it. Now, with a sudden sick feeling of apprehension, she followed Ratnadatta out from behind the blackout curtain into the brightly lit hall. But there she learnt that she was at least to be given a short respite. As one of the negro footmen advanced to take their coats, the Indian waved him aside and said to her:

'We haf some while to wait, and it ees a fine evening. We go to the garden and if not too cold sit there a little.' Then he took her along a passage to the back of the house and out through a door that opened on to a balustraded terrace from which three flights of steps, flanked with lead urns, led down to a lower level.

Not unnaturally, Mary had expected to find the back of the house as derelict as its front, and the garden a tangle of weeds or, at best, a starved lawn with a few struggling trees and shrubs; but, on the contrary, it was as beautiful as any garden in a city could be.

The tall walls enclosed an area of about half an acre and above them could be seen only a few chimney-pots of neighbouring houses. There was no grass, for the garden was laid out in the Italian style with gravel walks, flower beds with box edgings, carved stone seats, fountains, trellissed arbours and many fine pieces of statuary. Down its middle ran a pleached alley; to one side there was a large swimming pool; on the other, an open area of equal size, paved with a mosaic in many colours, in the centre of which stood a stone plinth carrying a head crowned with a wreath.

The swimming pool was still empty and none of the flowers with which the beds were planted yet out; but, even so, on this last day of April, after several hours of sun, this wonderfully sheltered spot was a pleasant place to stroll in. After walking down the alley they came back across the open space and, waving a pudgy hand about it, Ratnadatta said:

'To here on summer evenings, when fine, divans are brought out. It ees a good place, very good, for feast and revel. You will much enjoy.' Then he pointed to the head on the plinth that dominated the mosaic-paved area, and added: 'That ees Our Lord Satan in his aspect off Pan. That he smiles ees symbolic off the happiness he take in our pleasure.'

Mary gave the head one glance, then looked quickly away. It was unquestionably a wonderful work of art, for she could almost have sworn that it was alive; and it was smiling. But the thick, sensual lips, pointed, cynically laughing eyes, and bushy brows beneath the laurel crowned curls from which little horns curved up were those of a satyr, and she had never seen anything inanimate that seemed imbued with so much evil.

They returned to the terrace and sat down at an iron table to which a tray of drinks had been brought out for them by one of the negro footmen. Ratnadatta offered Mary a glass of the dark wine that she had had before, and she accepted without hesitation. Her one glance into the eyes of the sculptured Pan head, which should have been blank but had seemed alive with cruel mirth, had made her feel that she badly needed a drink. Moreover, she could not free her mind from dread that the test she must soon take would require of her some act shameful or obscene and knowing already the subtle properties of the herb-scented wine, she hoped that, as before, it would temporarily blunt her sense of decency.

In an effort to divert her thoughts, she asked Ratnadatta, 'What do you do about the servants here? This garden is beautifully kept, and there are the footmen and, I suppose, others to prepare the food for your feasts. I can hardly imagine you would make them all initiates, yet they must know a lot about what goes on. How do you ensure that they are to be trusted?�

He smiled. 'Do you know what ees called Zombie?�

'I ... I think so,' she stammered, appalled at the picture the word conjured up for her. 'They are dead people who have been brought to life again, aren't they? I once read a book about the West Indies, and it described how Voodoo witch-doctors took corpses from graves the night after they had been buried, then did something to them which restored enough life to them to work afterwards in the fields as slaves.'

Ratnadatta nodded. 'You are right nearly, but not quite. Such haf not died but been given drug. It makes victim fall into coma and seem dead. Burial ees very soon in hot countries, so it ees not difficult to restore animation after trance off only a few hours. But this drug also destroys many cells of victim's brain. He loses memory, so becomes dumb and no longer knows who he ees; so unable to go home or make trouble. He ees human animal. Fit for work and with understanding enough to obey simple order, but no more.'

'And the servants here are . . .' Mary suppressed a shudder, 'are Zombies?'

'As nearly as making no difference. They are all negro, but haf not been buried. They are given drug to destroy memory, but not so much as to make them animal. In this way they remain capable off more useful service.'

'If they have some intelligence left, I should have thought they would try to escape.'

'Oddwhiles one has urge to, but always he betray it by restless manner. He ees then hypnotized by Abaddon and feels impulse no more. But they haf women; negresses for work in kitchen and to clean, who haf been drugged same as men. They haf drink, good food, and the work ees light. Life here for them ees good, very good; and for one to become wishing to see what ees outside so pleasant prison happens very seldom.'

Mary almost found herself subscribing to the idea that these coloured servants were better off where they were than they would have been if free and struggling in some slum for a meagre living. But the thought that they had been robbed of their identities and, no doubt, in many cases separated for ever from their loved ones far outweighed the fact of their material well-being.

It then occurred to her that, if she slipped up, the soul-destroying drug might be administered to her. With a fresh surge of inward terror she recalled Ratnadatta's telling her barely half-an-hour before that should she fail in her test he would hypnotize her into forgetting where the Temple was situated. Supposing she not only failed the test but, during it, gave away the fact that she had come there as a spy? There would then be no question of allowing her to attempt a second test in a week or a fortnight's time. For their own protection they would have to eliminate from her mind every memory of her connection with the Brotherhood.

During her induction as a neophyte she had feared that if she refused to deny Christ they would murder her. They might still do so if she gave herself away. The drug provided an alternative means of silencing her, but one almost as terrible, for the results it would have did not bear contemplating.

She wondered now how she had managed to get so far without putting a foot wrong. Abaddon had read the fears and doubts in her mind but accepted them as not unusual in a young woman. That he and Ratnadatta had not used their psychic powers to probe deeper into her mentality could only be because they had no reason to suspect that she was deceiving them. Fervently she prayed that she might be given the wit and courage to keep up the deception during her coming trial. Reaching out for her glass she swiftly drank the rest of her wine.

Ratnadatta had, for the past few minutes, been telling her more about Zombies, but she had not taken in his words. Now, as he refilled her glass, she made an effort to concentrate on what he was saying. He went on to describe certain Voodoo ceremonies.

Twilight was falling and it was becoming a shade colder, but they sat on there for another quarter of an hour. Then one of the footmen came out on to the terrace. He did not speak but simply bowed to Ratnadatta.

Mary gave the man a sidelong glance. His face looked like a mask and his eyes had a glazed appearance. Now she knew the reason for his complete lack of expression, the idea that he was little more than a walking corpse filled her with horror. But Ratnadatta was saying, 'Come, plees; Abaddon ees ready for us,' so she accompanied him into the house.

The benign-looking High Priest was in his library. As on the previous occasion that Mary had been taken to him there he was wearing a dark grey suit. He came forward to welcome her, led her to a chair and said:

'My child, you are looking more beautiful than ever. You will serve most admirably the purpose I have in mind.'

This reference to her good looks did nothing to lessen Mary's apprehension about what they might mean to do with her, but she managed to smile at him as he went on: 'You will no doubt know that in many ancient Temples there were Priestesses who at times were called on to prophesy. That is the case here; and it is our custom to choose the most beautiful among our Sisters for such work. Tonight, in a little over an hour's time, a prophecy has been promised to a certain person, and it must be made. Unhappily our Sister Catherine de Medici, who was to make it, was suddenly taken ill last night. Among us there are, of course, a number of other lovely women on whom I could have called; but this morning the thought of you, my dear Circe, crossed my mind. It seemed an admirable opportunity to test your worthiness for advancement; so I sent for you to take Catherine's place.'

'Thank you,' Mary replied a little uncertainly. If to play the part of a Priestess was all that was required of her, that was a great relief after the kind of ordeals her imagination had conjured up; but as she was no true Satanist, she thought it unlikely that the Devil would inspire her, so she hurried on. 'But I've never attempted to prophesy. Perhaps I wouldn't be able to, however hard I try.'

Abaddon held up a slim-fingered, beautifully kept hand. 'My child, you have no need to concern yourself on that score. It is I who do the prophesying here. You have only to learn by heart the words I shall give you, and at the right time let them emerge from your lovely mouth.'

With a silent sigh of relief, Mary nodded. The plump pink face opposite her smiled and the melodious voice went on. 'We will refer to him who has been promised a prophesy as Mr. X. As poor Catherine is ill, we will tell him that but add that her sense of duty is so strong that she will still prophesy for him, although weak and in bed.'

'Why . . .' Mary began, but he cut her short with a frown.

'It is not for you, child, to question the way in which I think it best to conduct Our Lord Satan's business. You will take her place, be put to bed, and you will pretend extreme weakness. When you speak, your voice must be so low that Mr. X will have to bend right over you to catch your words. You understand?'

'Yes,' Mary now assented at once, although she was greatly puzzled in trying to deduce a reason for this curious and, apparently, unnecessary procedure.

'Now listen carefully.' Abaddon leaned over his desk towards her. 'When Mr. X comes into the room you will be in bed, lying on your back, with the sheets up to your chin, and your eyes closed. He will place his finger tips on your forehead and probably say a few words of greeting. You will not reply, but slowly and in silence count up to two hundred. Should he ask you any question during that time you will make no answer to it. When you have counted two hundred you will flutter your eyes open and whisper the following words.'

Abaddon then gave her some half-dozen sentences which she was to speak at intervals in such a low voice that Mr. X would have to bring his face down close to hers to hear what she said. But there was also a final stage to the prophecy. Before pronouncing the last sentence, she was suddenly to throw the bed clothes right back, sit up, smile at Mr. X, exclaim the words in a much stronger voice and, as she did so, cast her right arm round his neck.

More puzzled than ever, Mary nodded again. Obviously, some sinister deception lay behind the orders she was being given; but she felt that it was 'hers not to reason why', and that if no more than this was required of her to pass her test she would be getting off extremely lightly.

The High Priest now went over the whole proceeding again from start to finish, then he made her repeat twice every word she had to say, and yet a third time run through the whole without any prompting. Apparently satisfied, he looked across at Ratnadatta and said:

'Go, Sasin, fetch Pope Honorius to us.'

Ratnadatta left the room and, a few minutes later, when the door opened again, Mary expected to see him return with another man. Instead, he was accompanied by a tall thin woman of middle age, dressed all in white. Her garments gave her the appearance of a nun, except that she wore her coif far back on her head, so that her ash-blonde hair, parted Madonna style, showed in front. She was not wearing a mask and her features were of striking classical beauty. Abaddon said to Mary:

'Our sister, Pope Honorius, is the High Priestess of this Lodge. She instructs our younger Priestesses in their work, and will give you further coaching in the way you must behave tonight.' To the tall woman he said: 'This is the neophyte, Circe. I trust you agree with me that she is well fitted for our purpose?�

Having seen the newcomer in the distance during her first visit to the Temple Mary had, after a moment, recognized her. She gave Mary a cold appraising glance, then replied:

'You were right, Abaddon. With those eyes, that mouth and such a figure, she could seduce a saint. She should prove very useful to us.'

Her words were spoken with such complete detachment that they constituted a high compliment, but to Mary they spelt only a renewal of anxious foreboding. She wondered if the woman had in mind only making use of her for the Devil's work after she had become an initiate, or if their as yet undisclosed intention was to order her to attempt the seduction of Mr. X that night.

Abaddon turned his pale blue eyes on Mary, gave her a long searching glance, and asked: 'Do you feel confident that you can do that which is required of you? If not, you must say so now. I will excuse you from it, have an experienced Priestess perform the work, and give you some other test. This is an important matter and should you fail in it you will incur my anger. Answer me frankly, and without fear.'

Mary had a good memory, so she was not troubled by qualms that she might forget her lines. If there was no more behind the test than had so far been revealed, it should prove easy of accomplishment, and the alternative to it might be the performance of some act of the kind she had dreaded. In consequence, she replied firmly:

'I shall find no difficulty in doing as you wish, and am grateful to you for this opportunity you have given me to prove that I am worthy of advancement.'

Both Abaddon and Ratnadatta nodded their pleased appreciation of her apparent keenness to play the part designed for her; and even the High Priestess's hard but beautiful mouth curved into a faint smile, as she said:

'Come with me then, Circe, and I will prepare you for your first appearance as the mouthpiece of our Master.'

Mary followed her out and accompanied her upstairs to the second floor. There they entered a sitting-room beyond which were a bedroom and a bathroom. The whole suite was furnished in a style seen only in the houses of the very rich or a hotel of the first rank. Beautiful Aubusson carpets covered the floors, and the walls were panelled with toile de jouie. In the sitting-room the chairs, settee and escritoire were of Louis Quinze satinwood; two Buhl cabinets containing fine pieces of Sevres and Dresden flanked a marble mantelpiece, and in each of the panels hung a coloured print after Fragonard. The bedroom furniture had a ground of pale blue on which were painted garlands of flowers, and all its carved edges were pricked out in gold; the sheets on the bed were of the finest lawn and, from a coronet supported by two gilded cupids, drapes of muslin spangled with gold stars curved down to either side of its head. By contrast the bathroom was entirely modern, with tiled walls and a large low porcelain bath, and was equipped with a great variety of sprays, towels, powders and perfumes.

Mary knew that a small number of people were fortunate enough to live in such surroundings, but she had never before been in so luxurious a suite herself; and, as her eyes roved over its delights, her companion said: 'I can guess what you are thinking, my dear. "What fun it would be to spend a night here with a lover of your choice." Well, if you play your part this evening without bungling it, you shall. We have several other suites similar to this for those who prefer to take their pleasure in private rather than join in our Saturnalias. Would you like a bath? There is plenty of time, and if you have been out all day it will refresh you.'

'Yes, I think I would,' Mary replied.

'Then I will run one for you while you undress. Put all your things away in the wardrobe. Nothing must be left about to indicate that you are an ordinary woman. To make her prophecies more impressive a Priestess should surround herself with mystery.'

When the bath was running, the tall, coldly beautiful woman came back into the bedroom, and Mary said to her: 'Abaddon told me that the Brothers and Sisters of the Ram all take the names of wizards and witches who actually lived in the past; so it came as a great surprise to me when he called you by the name of a Pope.'

A faint smile touched the finely chiselled lips of the High Priestess. 'My dear, I fear you are still very ignorant. For many centuries after Christ the Impostor, nearly all the Christian Bishops knew enough of the truth to follow the Old religion in secret, and many Popes served Our Lord Satan well. Pope Leo the Great and Pope Silvester II both enjoyed His special protection, and Pope Honorius was the greatest magician of them all. It was he who wrote Le Grimoire which, with the Clavicule of Solomon, is the most profound work on the Secret Art ever produced.'

By this time Mary had undressed, and for the next ten minutes she luxuriated in the warm, scented water of the big bath, her enjoyment now only a little marred by thoughts of what the next hour might hold for her. The test she was being given seemed simple enough of accomplishment, and there was nothing about it to disgust or frighten her; yet, all the same, she could not rid herself of an uneasy premonition that it might develop into something much more unpleasant than she had any reason to expect.

As she got out of the bath she was trying to assure herself that her fears were groundless, that by nine o'clock, or half-past at the latest, she would have left this haunt of evil for the last time, be breathing again the clean air of the streets and, soon afterwards, be giving Colonel Verney all the information he needed to swoop upon and arrest Teddy's murderers.

Wrapped in a huge bath-sheet she returned to the bedroom and said to Honorius, 'As I'm to go to bed I must have a nightie. I take it there is one here you can lend me?�

The High Priestess shook her head. 'For this affair you will not wear one. An essential part of Abaddon's design is that when you sit up in bed and put one arm round Mr. X's neck you should be naked.'

Mary blanched. She knew only too well the effect that the sight of her nude body had on men. This was just the sort of thing she had feared. It must be part of their plan that Mr. X should attempt to rape her.

CHAPTER XIV IN THE TOILS

Mary had gone into the business with her eyes open. Both Colonel Verney and Barney had not minced matters in telling her the sort of thing she must expect if she became one of a circle of Satanists, and she had frankly intimated to Verney that she would not regard giving herself to a stranger too high a price to pay for a good chance to bring Teddy's murderers to justice. All the same she had hoped, by one means or another, to evade that issue; and luck had been with her. She had that evening secured concrete evidence against Ratnadatta so, even if she had not promised Barney to break with the Satanists, for her to seek to worm her way into their confidence had now become pointless.

Earlier, when she had believed that to become an initiate was the only road to doing so, she had hoped that at least she would be allowed some degree of choice in taking a lover from among the Brotherhood, so that she could select one who would be both physically acceptable and capable of protecting her from unwelcome attentions by the others. When Ratnadatta had told her that she must be prepared to render 'service to the Temple' at her initiation, she had more or less implied that she would not go through with it if the stranger who was to accept her offer of herself proved to be repugnant to her. He had replied that Satan so arranged matters that his votaries always derived pleasure from such ceremonies, and she had accepted that assurance - for what it was worth.

But what was it worth? Or his other assurance that nothing would be asked of her until her initiation? The Brotherhood of the Ram consisted entirely of men and women given over to evil; to expect any of them to keep a promise was, therefore, to build on sand. She had thought herself clever enough to get away with it; to make this last visit to the Temple so that she could find out where it was situated, and then have it raided that night. She had found out, but she knew now that she had taken the pitcher to the well once too often. It now seemed certain that, willing or � unwilling, they meant to give her to one of their number within the next half-hour. And she was trapped.

Glancing sideways at Honorius she asked, 'This man, Mr. X, what is he like?'

'I have never met him,' the Priestess replied. 'But from what I have heard he must be past middle-age and rather a common person. Anyway, not of the type which we should ordinarily admit to the Brotherhood. He is being brought here only so that we can forward Our Lord Satan's work.'

'Am I... am I to be left alone with him?'

'Of course.'

'But if he sees me naked in bed, he may...'

'I expect he will.' A cold smile again twitched the lips of the tall, fair-haired Honorius. 'He would hardly be human if such a sight did not stir his blood.'

'Then I will prophesy, but I'll not sit up in bed,' Mary declared, firmly. 'I'll not tempt him by letting him see my body.'

'You will do as you have been ordered, my child.' The Priestess's voice was icy, and her fine features more than ever severe. 'Let us have no nonsense about this. Abaddon will be watching your every move. Should you fail him you will find his wrath no light matter. You are as yet not a Sister of the Ram, only a neophyte. He could, at a touch, make all your hair fall out; or might decide to chasten you by giving you for the night as a plaything to the Zombies.'

At these appalling threats, Mary paled and said, hastily: 'I meant only that I'd not expected anything of this kind to happen this evening.'

'Who said it would? You jump too quickly to conclusions. As I have told you, Abaddon will be watching and, should matters look like going further than he wishes, he will intervene.'

Only partially reassured, Mary asked, 'How could he if I am to be left alone with Mr. X?'

Honorius gestured towards the wall on the far side of the bed. 'Look more closely at those two flower paintings. You will see that their frames are not hung but fixed to the wall. Both are painted on two layers of canvas. There is nothing between them and the next room. A person in there can slide back the lower layers of canvas and that leaves several holes among the flowers and foliage of each picture. Through them anyone can see into this room, and from behind one of the pictures Abaddon will be observing how you conduct yourself with Mr. X. When matters have reached the point that he desires he will press a buzzer that sounds in the sitting-room. I shall be waiting there and, on hearing it, come straight in to you.'

These complicated arrangements in connection with Mary's test left her completely out of her depth. Having, while hidden herself, looked down through one of the balcony grills on to proceedings in the Temple, it did not particularly surprise her to learn that in this house of mysteries there should be spy-holes through some of the pictures; or that, having set her a test, Abaddon should wish to see for himself how she carried it out.

What puzzled her so much was the nature of the test. Why should they wish her to play the part of prophetess when Honorius, or some other Sister of the Ram with past experience, must be far better qualified for such a job? Why must she pretend to be ill and prophesy only in a whisper? Why must she throw the bedclothes back and expose herself to Mr. X unless they wanted him to try to seduce or rape her?

Perhaps that was what they did want, then to see how she would react to such a situation. But, if so, why the pretended illness first; for, surely, nothing could be worse calculated to prepare Mr. X's mind for an impulse to make love to her? And why these elaborate arrangements to enable Abaddon to intervene whenever he felt inclined? At what point in the proceedings would he do so?

What was their object in bringing there this elderly man who, by a strange snobbery, they apparently considered not of good enough class to be admitted to the Brotherhood? If her acceptance or rejection of this man on the grounds that he was no maiden's dream was the test, it seemed an extremely stupid one. In her dark days in Dublin she had found that men of middle age were generally much more considerate than younger ones and that, provided a man was decently clean in his habits, once he took off his clothes there was little to indicate, apart from his voice, to what class he belonged.

Anxiously she wondered if they wished her tamely to submit to Mr. X's probable advances, display wit and cunning in stalling him off or, if need be, fight him like a tigress. It seemed to her evident that her passing this strange test depended on her adopting the course they expected of her; but which course that was, she had no means of guessing nor, as it was a test, could she expect to receive any direct guidance. She could only keep herself alert for any hints which might yet come her way and deal with the situation as it developed in the light of them.

Her thoughts were brought back with an unpleasant jolt to the immediate present by Honorius saying, 'Sit down at the dressing table and I will do your hair.'

For the past six weeks Mary had taken considerable pains to ensure that no one should suspect that her hair was dyed, but it grew quickly, and almost daily she had to take precautions against the new golden hair showing as it pushed up from its roots. Even standing close to her, no one would have guessed that she was not born a brunette, but another woman actually combing and parting her hair would almost certainly have become aware that she was actually a blonde, and blondes are not given to dyeing their hair dark brown without some very good reason.

Fearing now that such a discovery would lead to her being asked some very awkward questions, Mary said quickly, 'Please don't bother. I can quite well do it myself.'

For a moment her heart was in her mouth, as she thought it quite possible that Honorius might tell her that the hair of a priestess had to be dressed in some special manner; but to her relief the tall woman, so deceptively clad in nun's garments, replied: 'Very well, then. But part it in the centre as I do mine, then, as there will be no coif to hide it, we can arrange for it to fall to the best advantage framing your face.'

When Mary had brushed and combed her hair, and re-made-up her face, the Priestess dabbed a scent with a strong musk basis behind her ears, where her neck merged into her shoulders, and on her breasts, then told her to get into bed.

As she slid down between the cool lawn sheets, she thought philosophically, 'Since I've made my bed, and have got to lie on it, I could easily have found a worse one. I must try to think of myself as a soldier going into battle. Even if Abaddon does not intervene, it will all be over in an hour and I'll be free of these devilish people for good. And what a kick I'm going to get about midnight as I watch the whole lot of them being bundled into police vans.'

Honorius went for a moment into the sitting-room, then returned carrying a large full glass, which she gave to Mary telling her to drink it up. It was the same rich herb-scented wine that she had drunk while with Ratnadatta on the terrace. The two glasses of it she had had then had quieted her nerves and conditioned her to accept with a certain degree of resignation the fact that she had bitten off more than she had bargained for, and must now go through with it. In two long draughts she drank this third ration of the heady potion and, lying her head back on the pale blue satin pillow, began to view Mr. X's approaching visit as no longer anything to be greatly concerned about, but as a matter which might prove most intriguing.

Abaddon now came quietly into the room. Having looked about him he smiled his appreciation at Honorius and told her to wait in the sitting-room until Mr. X arrived. Then he began to catechize Mary about the prophecy she was to make. Again and again he made her repeat what she was to say until she was word perfect and had got her voice down to the low pitch that he desired. Satisfied about that he then made her rehearse the last phase of the act, in which she was to throw back the bedclothes, sit up and put her right hand at the back of Mr. X's neck.

After she had done it three times and again lay back, he stopped her from pulling the sheets up to her chin, gently touched her breasts and murmured, 'You are a beautiful girl; very beautiful.'

Mary made no reply, but lay there looking up at him.

His long slim fingers moved from her breast up to her cheek. For a moment he stroked it softly. The finger-tips slid down, caressed her chin, then she felt them on her neck. Bending above her he brought his other hand into play, so that the ringers of both stroked her from the ears down to the shoulders, then his two hands became still. They closed round her throat.

Staring up at him she saw his pale blue eyes. They were no longer consciously looking down at her, but faintly glazed.

With sudden awful horror she realized the truth. This High Priest of Evil, who had never shown her anything other than courtesy and kindness, who looked so benign and benevolent, was, in fact, a strangler. It must have been to satiate his lust in safety when the fits came upon him, as a victim of this most terrible of all perversions, that he had become a Satanist.

Her mouth opened to scream. Abaddon's thumbs jabbed downwards, cutting short her cry. His lips curved into a terrible smile and a low maniac chuckle issued from them. His eyes were now quite blank. Throwing up her arms she seized his wrists and strove to break his hold. Violently, she threw herself from side to side, but those slim fingers of his seemed to be made of steel. Her eyes were starting from her head, her lungs seemed about to burst.

Into her wildly agitated brain there came the terrible thought that this must be the end of the road that Ratnadatta had all the time destined for her. He was Abaddon's creature and must be employed by him to lure girls to the Temple so that in this beautiful bed the evil High Priest could strangle them.

Suddenly, through the buzzing in her ears, she heard the voice of Honorius, sharp, imperative, 'Master! Enough! She is needed for Our Lord Satan's work. Later, if you must, but not tonight.'

Ignoring her cry Abaddon, smiling a twisted smile, his now seemingly sightless eyes fixed on Mary's, tightened his grip on her throat. But the High Priestess had evidently had previous experience of his murderous fits, and knew how to deal with them. Her classic features set, like those of an outraged Athene, and her white nun's garments swirling about her, she struck Abaddon with the flat of her hand again and again across the face.

He took his hands from Mary's neck, shook himself, blinked and, after a moment, his eyes regained their normally benevolent expression. Looking down at her again he muttered:

'You . . . you must forgive me. Occasionally I am subject to these little compulsions to ... to, er, indulge myself, and at the same time send some young woman more swiftly on the way to a new incarnation. But now that I am older I rarely feel so ... so strongly about the matter as to forget myself with a friend. That I did so in your case you must please regard as a very special tribute to your beauty.'

Honorius having come running in at Mary's half-strangled cry, the pressure on her throat had lasted no more than a minute; but she was still shaking from fright and panting slightly. To Abaddon's courteous apology and horrifying admission, there seemed no adequate reply. She could only pray that never again would she be left alone with him; meanwhile the Priestess wiped away the perspiration that had started out on her forehead and asked her if she would like something to drink to steady her nerves.

She shook her head, and murmured, 'No; I'll be all right in a few minutes.'

Abaddon smiled. 'You are a brave girl as well as a beautiful one. Many would have given way to hysterics and I would have had myself to blame for having rendered you incapable of performing the task that has been set you. Since you are still prepared to carry it out I will reward you later with a special favour.'

Both of them then left her, and went back into the sitting-room. Her relief at knowing that she was not to die there between the soft lawn sheets was only momentary. Fresh fears beset her that, after Mr. X's visit. Abaddon might return and give free reign to his murderous perversion. Yet escape seemed impossible.

Suddenly the thought of the crucifix came into her mind. It was still in her hand-bag and that she had put into the wardrobe with her other things. If she held it up in front of her they might be afraid to attack her. But she could not force her way past them and out into the street still naked. She would first have to dress, and they had left the door of the sitting-room ajar so, if she got out of bed, it was certain that they would hear her. Before she could open the wardrobe and get the crucifix from her bag, they would be upon her. Again she recalled the High Priestess's threats should she prove disobedient. Abaddon might cause all her hair to fall out or, infinitely worse, give her to the Zombies.

She dared not risk that. Perhaps, after all, if she did what was required of her with Mr. X, they would let her go, counting on her apparent willingness to return another night for her initiation. On two previous occasions Ratnadatta had kept his word; why should he not again? If she could only keep her head there was still a chance that she might be out of this gateway to hell soon after nine o'clock and free to bring about its complete destruction.

The frantic twistings of her mind, first this way then that, were brought to an abrupt cessation by the sound of voices in the next room. Although she strained her ears, she could not catch what they were saying. Quickly she pulled the sheets up to her chin and stretched her arms below them down along her sides. She had hardly done so, when the door opened. Then she shut her eyes as she had been directed.

Abaddon's melodious tones came to her as he addressed Mr. X. 'I cannot stress too strongly, Sir, that this is no pretended magical hocus-pocus, but a matter of advanced science. Or, it would be more correct to say, a revival of the application of scientific laws known to the ancients. They discovered that young women, while still pure, could be trained to prophesy correctly. But the medical profession still refuses to accept that as a fact; so we are under the necessity of keeping secret our valuable work in this clinic'

'Yes, I quite understand,' a deep, slightly rough, voice replied. 'It's good of you to let me come here. I must say I congratulate you on your, er ... prophetess. She's quite a Beauty Queen, isn't she?'

'We have found,' Abaddon returned, smoothly, 'that a definite link exists between beauty coupled with purity and the higher intelligences that exist outside the earthly plane. It is on that account that so few young women can be found who are suitable subjects for training. For the moment this girl is the only one here fully qualified, and it is most regrettable that she should have been taken ill yesterday. But, as Mr. Bierabaum told us that the matter upon which you desired guidance was both urgent and important, I agreed that you should be allowed to consult her.'

'She looks as if she is asleep,' came the other voice. 'Seems a shame to disturb her. Wouldn't it be best to wait until she wakes up?'

'No; she is in a semi-trance, so her state could hardly be better for your purpose. All you need do is to place the finger-tips of your left hand on her forehead and concentrate to the utmost on conveying your thoughts to her.'

Abaddon's voice came more faintly as, while moving away, he added: 'I will leave you now. When you have done, I shall be waiting for you in the next room.'

Mary just caught the sound of his receding footsteps on the soft carpet, then she felt Mr. X's finger-tips on her forehead and heard him say, 'I'm sorry you've been ill, Miss; but they say you're well enough to tell me what my prospects are, and the sort of trouble I ought to look out for. This thing means a lot to me, and I'd be very grateful if you could.'

In accordance with her instructions, Mary silently counted two hundred then she fluttered her eyes open and looked up at Mr. X. He was a well-made, broad shouldered man, and she judged him to be about fifty-five. His hair was short, grey and wiry, his jowls were heavy and his reddish complexion suggested that he was a fairly heavy drinker; but his mouth was good and firm, and his brown eyes looked down into hers with compelling directness.

Keeping her voice very low, she said: 'All will be well, if you act with caution.'

'That's a good start,' he said, a smile spreading over his face. 'But I'd like a few practical details.'

She counted fifty, then spoke again. 'Take no step of importance on Tuesdays. For the next...'

'What's that?' He leaned forward over her. 'Speak a bit louder if you can, please. I can hardly hear you.'

Without raising her voice, she repeated the warning about Tuesdays, and went on: 'For the next twelve days eat no meat, drink no alcohol and know no woman, so that greater power to influence others may flow into you.'

'Twelve days,' he muttered. 'Yes, you've hit it. If I get through them I'll be all right. But what's this special danger I've to guard against that Emily Purbess couldn't quite make out?'

Mary counted another hundred, as she had been told, then replied in a whisper. 'Beware of the man with the thick-rimmed glasses. Do not trust him. In secret he is working against you.'

'What; Sir Hamish?' Mr. X burst out. 'You can't mean him! He's spent thousands pushing the boat in the right direction.'

'I see clearly the man who menaces your success,' Mary went on. 'He has thick, dark hair, and dresses untidily. He is still under thirty but has a forceful, abrupt manner.'

'By God, it is Sir Hamish!'

'Be warned by me. I am the vehicle of power beyond your understanding.'

'Yes; yes.' Mr. X appeared greatly agitated. 'I don't get it; but I'll watch out.'

His face was still within a foot of Mary's. Suddenly she threw the bedclothes from her, sat up, smiled at him, quickly put out her right hand, curling it round his neck, and said in a much stronger voice, 'In you the Lion finds a champion against the Bear. Heed my warning and a great future will be yours. Go now, and good fortune be with you.'

For a moment his eyes showed amazement at her unexpected display of vigour. Then they dropped from her face to her body.

He drew a deep breath, jerked his head away, stood upright and said, a trifle thickly:

'Get back under the bedclothes.'

She had carried out Abaddon's instructions to the letter and Mr. X's reaction to her prophesy had been just as expected. But how he would react when she exposed herself to him was the question that had been agitating her on and off for the past hour. The display of control with which he coupled his admonition brought her instant relief. Gladly she obeyed him, flopping back and grasping quickly with both hands at the sheets. As she pulled them up to her chin, he asked her in a puzzled voice:

'Why haven't you got a night-dress on? If I hadn't been told that this was a sort of scientific clinic, and you a kind of vestal virgin, I'd think I'd got into a slap-up brothel.'

She made no reply and, as though exhausted by the effort of prophesying, closed her eyes again. After a moment, he went on: 'I suppose when you prophesy you're not properly conscious of your surroundings, and sat up on a sudden impulse?�

As she continued to ignore him, he shrugged and said: 'Well, it's not for me to complain, as you were good enough to see me while ill in bed. Your prophesy was a queer one, but I'll certainly heed the warning and keep away from the man you described to me.'

He was still speaking when she heard footsteps, then Abaddon's voice. 'I trust, Sir, that you are satisfied?�

'Yes,' Mr. X replied. 'She was aware of the date that is important to me, and has told me the quarter from which I can expect trouble. I must say it surprised me, but forewarned is forearmed.'

The voices faded as the two men left the room. Mary opened her eyes and lay still for a few minutes, then Honorius came in to her. The Priestess now had her coif drawn forward hiding her pale gold hair. Evidently she had adjusted it for Mr. X's visit, to give the impression that she was nursing Mary, as from her flowing white robes anyone would have taken her for a nun. Readjusting the coif on the back of her head, she said:

'Abaddon tells me that you played your part excellently. He is very pleased with you.'

With a pale smile, Mary sat up. 'I'm glad about that. I can dress now, then, and get ready to go home.'

'No, not yet.' Honorius checked her with a gesture as she was about to get out of bed. 'Abaddon is seeing our visitor downstairs; but he will be back in a moment and wants to talk to you again.'

Fear leapt into Mary's blue eyes, but the Priestess saw it and quickly sought to dispel her terror by saying: 'There is no need to be alarmed, my dear. He is not often subject to such fits, and you may be certain that he will not be seized by another tonight.'

At that moment Abaddon appeared in the doorway. Quickly Mary lay back and covered herself again up to the chin. Holding the door open for Honorius, he said quietly, 'You may leave us now,' and, when she had walked past him, he closed it behind her.

Her statement had done little to reassure Mary. With his bald head, smiling eyes, smooth cheeks, and dressed in his neat dark grey suit, the High Priest still looked like a benevolent Bishop yet, less than half an hour before, he had calmly admitted to her that he was a strangler. And he was the Master in this den of murderers. His word was law there and Honorius, like the rest of them, was sworn to obey him. He might have told her to still his intended victim's fears and keep her in bed till his return, so that she would be less able to defend herself. Now that she had served her purpose, even if she screamed Honorius might not come to her rescue again, but leave her at the mercy of this elderly maniac.

Mary's heart was beating like a sledge hammer. Perspiration again broke out on her forehead. Her throat had suddenly gone dry and her tongue felt like thick leather in her mouth. As Abaddon moved away from the door, her eyes fixed themselves on his beautiful hands. In another few moments those strong, slender fingers might be choking the life out of her body. Half sitting up, she thrust out an arm as if to fend him off, and gasped:

'Stay where you are! Stay where you are! Don't... don't come any nearer!'

His smile became sad, and he said: 'My child, I understand how you must be feeling. Naturally you are afraid that I may give way to another of my little lapses; but you have no need to be.'

As he continued to approach the bed, she did not believe him. Cowering back among the pillows, she repeated hoarsely: 'Don't come any nearer! I'll claw your eyes out if you touch me!'

He halted then and shook his head. 'Calm yourself, I beg. My having so unfortunately, er . . . forgotten myself, must have been a great shock to you. After having your nerve so badly shaken it does you all the more credit that you should have passed your test with flying colours. I come only to tell you of the special favour I intend to grant you as a reward for going through with the task set you in spite of what had gone before.'

She continued to regard him with nervous doubt, but his eyes showed no sign of abnormality. With an effort, she stopped the trembling of her hands, and asked in a low voice, 'What is it?'

'That's better,' he nodded. 'Lie back, my child, and relax. I give you my word that I will not lay a finger on you.'

Uneasily, she wriggled down a little, and again covered herself up to the shoulders, as he asked, 'Have you yet decided on your Satanic name? Is it to be Circe, or some other?'

She was about to reply that to her it was a matter of complete indifference, but remembered in time that to him she was a neophyte who, having successfully passed her test, should now be looking forward eagerly to her initiation as a Sister of the Ram. His question suggested that the favour he meant to do her was in connection with it - perhaps the fixing of an early date - and that he was about to tell her of certain things she must do to prepare herself for the ceremony. She was still in their power and, if she was to get out of it in the next half-hour, she must continue to avoid arousing their suspicions by showing delight at her prospect of becoming one of them. Seeking now to please him, she said in a steadier voice:

'I like the name, but you are the Master here. If there is one you prefer for me I will willingly take it.'

He beamed at her. 'I like it too; so Circe let it be. Now, tell me: what do you know of our Satanic festivals?�

'Mr. Ratnadatta told me that your weekly meetings on Saturdays are called Esbats, and that four times a year you hold a Sabat - a great feast at which you sacrifice a ram.'

'That is so; and it is through the blood of the ram that we receive our first degree of power. The central act in an initiation ceremony is the baptism of the neophyte with it. Only so can one become a member of the Brotherhood.'

'I see,' she said, pretending keen interest. 'And as there are only four Sabats a year, that is why a neophyte sometimes has to wait quite a long time before receiving initiation. Mr. Ratnadatta warned me that I should have to be patient.'

'Yes, usually we arrange matters so that three weeks or a month elapse between each stage. You were fortunate that an occasion happened to arise for us to give you your test after only a fortnight.'

Mary was now feeling enough at ease with him again to play her part convincingly. With just a suggestion of peevishness, she murmured, 'And now I suppose it will be the other way. I'll have to wait weeks and weeks before I can enjoy the power that initiation will give me.'

'No, my child.' His smile was seraphic. 'As resident Master of this Lodge, I have authority to ignore normal procedure when I wish, and I intend to treat your case as an exception. That is the way in which I propose to make amends for giving you such a fright.'

'Do you mean that there is a Sabat quite soon, and that you'll let me come to it? If so, that's very kind.'

He looked at her in surprise. 'Do you not know what today is?�

Puzzled, she thought a moment, then replied, 'Yes, it's the 30th April.'

'And Walpurgis Night,' he added quickly, 'the greatest Satanic feast in the whole year.'

Starting up, she stared at him. 'You don't mean ...'

'I mean that, normally, your initiation would not take place until the end of July. But I am granting you a dispensation which will spare you that long wait and enable you to be received as an initiate tonight.'

'Tonight!' she gasped, her face a picture of dismay.

'Yes. You will be one of five who are to be initiated; two other women and two men. But what has come over you?' he frowned. 'Instead of being delighted, you appear distressed.'

She knew herself to be walking a razor's edge. Desperately she strove to compose her features. Then she faltered: 'It's only . . . only that I've had no chance to prepare myself for it. And I'm tired. Tired out by what I've been through this evening already.'

'You feel so now, perhaps. But it will pass. You have the best part of an hour in which to rest. By then, and after another glass of our Delphic wine, you will feel quite restored and be eager to take your place among us.'

'No! No!' she cried, panic getting the better of her. 'I couldn't face it tonight. Even if I have to wait three months, I'd rather. Let me go home! Let me go home!'

'Now you are being foolish,' he admonished her. 'Of course you are tired and a little overwrought. But tomorrow you would bitterly regret having allowed a temporary weakness to deprive you of this chance to achieve your desires without further delay.'

'I've not the strength to go through with this tonight. I really haven't. I swear I haven't. I'll bungle everything and disgrace you.'

'I am confident that you will not. You took your oaths and made your profession of faith when you were accepted as a neophyte. No further demands of that kind will be made upon you. The ceremony consists only of a little blood being drawn from your arm so that you may sign a pact in it with our Lord Satan, then your baptism with the blood of the sacrificed ram and the tying of the black garter below your knee.'

'But . . .' she stammered '. . . but Ratnadatta told me ... he said I'd have to serve the Temple.'

'Oh, that!' Abaddon shrugged. 'Yes, you will do so later. But you are not a virgin, so you will both give and receive pleasure by the act. After we have feasted and the dancing begins, you will be filled with desire and eager to make love.'

'Not tonight! Not tonight!' she pleaded. 'I don't feel like feasting and dancing. I'm too tired, I tell you. I want to go home! Please let me go home!'

Suddenly his voice became sharp. 'You silly child! Pull yourself together! Show the same spirit you displayed earlier this evening. I'll not let you rob yourself of the reward I intended for you. I shall leave you now to give orders for your reception with the other four who are to become initiates. As you are the protege of Sasin - or Ratnadatta, to use his ordinary name - he will come for you when we assemble in the Temple and bring you down to us.'

Before she could plead with him further, he turned on his heel, walked quickly from the room and peevishly slammed the door behind him.

So far Mary had restrained her tears, but now she gave way to them. Her terror of Abaddon had played havoc with her nerves and sapped away her reserves of courage. During these last few minutes, as soon as she had got over her fear that he might again attempt to strangle her, she had once more had high hopes that she would be allowed to dress and leave this devil-ridden mansion. To her utter consternation, they had been shattered. With what seemed the most cruel injustice, the very fact that he had attacked her was now the reason for her being ordered to remain there and face yet another ordeal.

That it would prove one for her was beyond doubt. His glib assurance that the ceremony required no effort might be true; but what of afterwards? He, of course, naturally assumed that, as a voluntary disciple of the Devil, she would willingly perform her 'service to the Temple', and afterwards thoroughly enjoy participating in the wild revels of his Satanic congregation. With tears oozing from the corners of her eyes, she shuddered at the thought and cursed herself anew for her temerity in having let Ratnadatta bring her again to the Temple.

For some five minutes she gave way to despair, then her sobbing eased and she began again to contemplate an attempt to escape. Abaddon had said that she had nearly an hour before her in which she could rest, so presumably she would be left alone during that time. She should, anyway, be able to get dressed without interference. But what then?

A long corridor, two flights of stairs and the hall lay between her and the front door. Could she possibly hope to reach it without being intercepted? And down in the hall there were the two negro footmen. It seemed unlikely that they would have been ordered to keep a look-out for her and stop her if she tried to leave the house; and, as they were semi-Zombies, they might not have the wit to do so on their own initiative.

As against that, the hour of the meeting was approaching and, since tonight was one of the great Satanic festivals, it was certain to be a bumper gathering. Between now and ten o'clock at least thirty people, and perhaps even double that number would be arriving. They would be coming in nearly every minute, so she was certain to run into some of them, and there seemed a big risk that, thinking it strange that anyone should be going out at that hour, they would question her. If so, would she be able to satisfy them without their referring the matter to Abaddon?

From that thought another arose. The numbers arriving would be greater after than before half-past nine, so the sooner she made the attempt, the better chance she would have of avoiding them and getting away. Again she considered the risks involved, recalling Honorius's terrifying threats of what Abaddon might do to her if she had refused to obey his order to expose herself to Mr. X. But, surely, this was quite a different matter? No work for Satan depended on her compliance. She would only be declining a favour he intended to do her. She had already told him in no uncertain terms that she did not feel up to facing initiation that night. If she was caught and stopped she could plead that her nerve had given way and impelled her to flight. As he must consider himself to blame that she should be reduced to such a state, he could hardly decree some awful punishment for her. He might compel her to stay; but he might even relent and let her go.

For another few moments she lay there, a prey to alternate hopes and fears. But time was ticking by and she became increasingly aware that it was a case of now or never. Suddenly resolving to challenge fate, she threw back the bedclothes, got out of bed and walked over to the wardrobe.

As she approached it she caught sight of herself in the long mirror. When she had returned from her walk over Wimbledon Common and encountered Ratnadatta in the hall, she had been wearing the elaborate make-up which she had always used since turning herself into Margot Mauriac. Her recent tears had played havoc with it, and the mascara eye-shadow now ran in streaks down her cheeks. Realizing that if she met anyone in the corridor or on the stairs it was important that she should appear calm and normal, she turned away from the wardrobe and went into the bathroom. There she quickly bathed her eyes and removed the ravages to her face. It was as well that she had done so before starting to dress, otherwise she would have been caught red-handed getting into her clothes; for, as she stepped back into the bedroom, its other door opened, and Honorius came in.

Over her arm she had a star-spangled mantle of transparent veiling; in one hand she carried a pair of silver sandals and a mask and, in the other, a wine-glass half full of yellow liquid. Thankful for her narrow escape, Mary slipped back into bed, while the Priestess draped the mantle across the back of a chair, set down the mask and sandals and came over to her. Holding out the glass to her, she said:

'Abaddon is very distressed about your being so upset. You played your part with Mr. X so well that we quite thought you had recovered from the shock you received before he arrived. But, of course, the effect of shock often does not show till later. Anyway, Abaddon is most anxious that you should thoroughly enjoy our great feast tonight, so he has sent you up this cordial.'

'What is it?' Mary asked, eying the glass with suspicion.

'It is one of our secret preparations, and has wonderful properties. Half-an-hour or so after you have taken it, you will feel marvellously refreshed, right on top of the world, and ready for anything.'

Between a quarter-past seven and eight o'clock, Mary had had two glasses of the Delphic wine while with Ratnadatta out on the terrace, and another soon after she got into bed. They had warmed her up and done much to counter her anxieties, giving her at intervals an almost carefree feeling. But Abaddon's attack on her had dissipated their effect, destroying in her entirely the excited expectation which had resigned her mind to accepting the possibility that Mr. X might be tempted to try conclusions with her. Now, she felt sure that the golden liquid contained another and much stronger aphrodisiac, and that was the last thing she wanted at the moment. Shaking her head, she said:

'No thank you. I'd rather not. I've just bathed my face and I feel better already. I shall be quite all right by ten o'clock.'

'Perhaps; but this will make you feel better still. Come, drink it up.'

'No, really,' she protested, 'I don't need it.'

'You must.' Honorius's classical features became stern. 'Abaddon says that while looking at you he discerned a sudden aversion in you to performing service to the Temple tonight. It is understandable that shock should temporarily have robbed you of normal sexual desire, but it is imperative that you should play your part with willingness and vigour. To fail to do so on the night of your initiation would be a flagrant insult to Our Lord Satan.'

'I... I shall be all right when the time comes. I promise you I will.'

'You may think that now; but this shock you have had has taken a lot out of you. It is essential that you should fortify yourself, or you will be exhausted long before morning.'

'If I do feel tired, surely I can sit and watch instead of dancing all night.'

A cold smile twitched Honorius's lips. 'My dear, surely you realize how beautiful you are. One of the other women who are to be initiated is middle-aged, and the other, although quite a pretty girl, is not in the same class as yourself. Half the men in the place will be wanting to have their turn with you.'

CHAPTER XV MEN WITHOUT MERCY

The blood drained from Mary's face. For a moment constriction in her throat prevented her uttering. Then she burst out:

'No! You can't mean that! Ratnadatta told me that I must take one stranger. But... but not... not any men who want me, one after another.'

The Priestess shrugged. 'Sometimes promising converts to the Satanic faith display repugnance at the thought of such a prospect. Ratnadatta is a good psychologist and no doubt he decided that would prove the case with you; so, rather than risk your being lost to us, he decided that, your having expressed your willingness to pay tribute to Our Lord Satan by Temple Service, that was quite sufficient to go on with.'

'Then he deceived me shamefully!' Mary exclaimed in bitter anguish. 'He got me here under false pretences.'

'I daresay he did, but you will not be the first, nor the last, young woman on whom this mild deception has been practised.'

'Mild deception!'

'Yes; mild. If you are willing to let one strange man possess you, why not two or more?�

Tears of rage started to Mary's eyes, and she retorted furiously; 'There is a difference! A vast difference. Ratnadatta said that the man selected would be one that I should find agreeable. Instead, it is proposed to use me as though I were a whore in a brothel.'

'You are a fine healthy girl, so will take no harm from it. Abaddon will see to it that you are not overtaxed.'

'What. . . what d'you mean by that?'

'He will make those who want you draw lots with numbers, then call a halt when he decides that you are tired.'

'Have men queue up for me!' Mary gasped. 'I won't! I won't!'

'Nonsense, child. I have had neophytes through my hands before who felt as you do now. Faced with the prospect of taking several lovers instead of one, they make the same protests as you are doing. But, when the time comes, their scruples vanish. After the feast they become eager to be loved and the sight of others throwing off all restraint sets them at their ease.'

'I can't! I couldn't!' Mary cried. 'There are some repulsive men among them to whom I'd never give myself. Never! Never!'

'Never is a long time,' Honorius smiled. 'After a while you will come to set much more store on the pleasure a man can give you than on his features, the shape of his limbs or the colour of his skin. But if you have a prejudice against the ageing or pot-bellied I will tell Abaddon, and he will arrange matters so that only well-formed men embrace you tonight.'

Quivering with fear and fury, Mary retorted; 'No one shall embrace me! I'll not submit to this! Get out of here to hell where you belong! I'm going home!'

With both hands she thrust down the sheets, and drew up a leg to spring out of bed; but Honorius was too quick for her. Ignoring her movement, the Priestess shot out a hand, seized her by the nose and forced her head back. As Mary gasped for breath, Honorius shot the contents of the glass into her open mouth. She choked and swallowed. A little of the liquid ran down her chin, but as her head hit the pillow, nearly all of it went down her throat.

'That's better,' Honorius murmured. 'And now I'm going to send you to sleep for half an hour. You will feel quite a different girl when you wake up.'

'Let me go!' Mary gurgled, endeavouring to spit out the little of the liquid that remained in her mouth, and thrusting her hands up against the Priestess's shoulders.

Honorius did let go of Mary's nose, but dropped the glass, seized both her wrists, broke her hold, and forced her hands down on to her chest.

As Mary's breath returned, she panted, 'You bitch! Get off me! Let me go or I'll kill you,' and she began to struggle violently. But the tall Priestess was a powerful woman and had the advantage that she had thrown the upper part of her body on top of Mary and was pressing her down.

In vain Mary jerked up her knees and strove to free herself. She could not wrench her wrists from the firm hold upon them and the weight of the Priestess crushed her against the well-sprung mattress of the bed. Meanwhile, Honorius's face was only a few inches above her own and the big grey eyes in it held hers with a steady gaze.

As Mary stared back the eyes seemed to grow even bigger. Then the Priestess said in a soft voice, 'Sleep. My will is stronger than yours and you must obey me. I order you to sleep.'

Realizing that she was being hypnotized, Mary tried to shut her eyes; but it was too late. She found she could not lower her eyelids, or look away from those great grey orbs that bored down into hers. Honorius's weight was forcing the breath out of her lungs and she knew that her strength was ebbing. The eyes grew larger until the Priestess's face became a blur, then disappeared, leaving only the two huge eyes, now seeming the size of saucers, poised above Mary's face. She could still taste the potion she had been given. It was bitter-sweet, like vermouth, only as strong as a liqueur. Its flavour was the last thing she remembered before she faded into unconsciousness.

When she came to, she was alone. A delightful warmth pervaded her whole body, the feel of the lawn sheets between which she lay seemed like a caress on her bare skin, and she was more conscious than she had been before of the delicious scent that Honorius had put on her in preparation for Mr. X's visit. The drug had stimulated all her senses, and with the lazy sensuousness of a cat she snuggled down in the big bed to doze again for a few minutes.

Gradually, all that had happened came back to her, but she felt no impulse to jump out of bed, hurry into her clothes and attempt to escape. A comforting fatalism now dominated her mind. She had succeeded, or very nearly succeeded, in the task she had set herself. Provided she could continue to remain unsuspected as a spy, in the long run she would get the best of these people who had trapped her. Teddy's shoes linked his murder with Ratnadatta and it didn't much matter that she had failed to bring about his arrest tonight, as she had planned. It would be equally satisfying to witness it tomorrow.

To achieve this she had, after all, to pay the price she had been prepared to pay to start with. In fact, it now transpired to be a much higher price than she had bargained for. But Honorius had been right in contending that it was not beyond her means to pay it. Some of the men she could not have borne, but Honorius had promised to see to it that she was not asked to do so, and the Priestess had been so completely frank about everything that there was no reason to suppose that she had not meant what she said.

And, after all, during a passionate embrace one man was very like another; so would she really mind that, instead of being made love to by one man all through the night, she was to be the partner of several? An episode from her black year in Dublin came back to her. Some young men had come to the club intent on throwing a wild party. When the club closed, two of them had carried her off to a flat belonging to one of them. There they had played strip-tease poker until all three of them had forfeited most of their clothes. Laughing and fooling, one of them had then carried her into the bedroom and put out the light. A few minutes later the other had joined them, and as she had had a lot to drink she hadn't really minded.

The two young men had been friends of Barney's. The thought of him made her wonder what he was doing at that moment. Her immediate guess was that he was at some quiet country hotel in bed with an attractive woman - some easy light-of-love for whom he had so callously let her down. Then she remembered that it was not yet ten o'clock. More probably they were still sitting in the lounge over coffee and liqueurs talking trivialities but mentally savouring in advance the delights of the night to come. He would be smiling into her eyes, entertaining her with some gay nonsense and grinning that devastating grin of his.

What a fool she had been on the point of making herself about him. As though a man with a nature like his could ever really change. Yet he had persuaded her that he had. In her heart she knew that she had forgiven him for the past. If he had asked her to go away with him for the weekend she would have. And she would have told herself that it was to carry out her plan to be avenged on him. Up to the last moment she would have toyed with the idea of telling him the truth about what he had done to her, then leaving him flat. But she wouldn't have done it. Instead, she would have let him make love to her again. She knew that she wouldn't have been able to help herself, because she would have wanted him, and wanted him more than any man she had ever known.

But that was not going to happen now. Once again he had unfurled his true colours. That would give her the strength to resist any future temptation to become his plaything. She was not going to let him break her heart. When he turned up on Monday full of blarney and apparent contrition, she would tell him that she meant to have no more to do with him. He could run his hand through that dark curly hair of his, that looked like a wet poodle's, until he rubbed it off, for all she cared. She was finished with him, and for good. All the same, it was better to stop thinking of him.

Lazily she stretched herself. She wished that she could lie there in the warm scented bed for ever. But not alone. She wanted someone to share it whom she could laugh with and be cuddled by. If only some dark, handsome stranger would walk into the room now, she knew that she would welcome him. Just a pretence of fright and shyness perhaps. But no more. A little persuading, then strong arms round her that she could almost feel as she thought of them; then long luscious kisses and once again the swoon of pleasure that she had for a long while been denied.

Suddenly she wondered if she was oversexed and promiscuous by nature. If she could so desire a man, any man, providing he was clean and wholesome, surely she must be? Yet, deep down, she knew that she was not. Although, during the greater part of the four years she had been married to Teddy, their relations had been governed by habit rather than passion, and for the last few months of his life he had become almost impotent as far as she was concerned, she had remained faithful to him. Even thoughts of what other men might be like as lovers had entered her mind only occasionally, and she would never have contemplated for a moment allowing one of them to seduce her. Several of his acquaintances had made exploratory overtures, but she had not even let them kiss her. Those memories reassured her that she was now in a highly abnormal state. The craving that had begun to obsess her was a thing not of the mind, but of the body, and could be due only to the strong aphrodisiac that Honorius had forced her to swallow.

Thinking of Teddy brought to her realization why he had become nearly impotent. To penetrate so far into the secrets of the Brotherhood of the Ram for them to murder him, he must have passed through all the stages that she had and gone still further. The cause of his loss of virility at home must have been due to his participation in these weekly orgies, Evidently he had realized that in doing so lay his only hope of successfully carrying out his mission.

Swift resentment rose in her against Colonel Verney. She felt that he had no right to demand so much from his young men. Then she recalled that the Colonel had known nothing about the Brotherhood, so he was not to blame. It was Teddy's own fetish about duty that had carried him so far. He had always maintained that one should stick at nothing to complete a job.

A little cynically she wondered how he would have liked it if the boot had been on the other foot, and he had happened to find out that she was denying herself to him because she was exhausting her sexual powers in secret debauchery. Would the fact that she was doing so in a most worthy cause have made any difference to him? She felt sure that it would not. He would have believed that she had taken the job as an excuse to return to the promiscuity from which he had rescued her, been mad with rage, accused her of being a born Messelina, and divorced her.

But, there it was. Men were like that. Even the best of them seemed to think that women were different from them and should remain chaste whatever their situation. Since they were not, but subject to the same urges, that was damnably unfair, and men were fools to expect faithfulness unless they gave it.

Anyway, poor Teddy was dead, and whatever she did now could not matter to him. The drug had created a ferment in her, and she knew that even if he had still been alive and in their flat at Wimbledon waiting up for her, it would not have made the least difference. She was impatient now for things to begin, and hoped that they would get through the ceremony of initiation quickly. Her mind whirled with images. She knew it was the effect of the aphrodisiac, but what did that matter? She was ready to play the part assigned to her and would revel in it.

A picture entered her mind of the very tall, fair-haired man who had picked her up off her feet and given her that tremendous kiss when, a fortnight ago, she had been introduced as a neophyte. Would he be there tonight? She hoped he would. If only she could arrange with Abaddon for that fair-haired colossus to be the first in the draw for her. If only he would walk in now. But it need not be him.

At that moment the door opened and Ratnadatta came in.

He was dressed in the garb of the Brotherhood: star-spangled mantle, silver sandals and black velvet garter below his left knee, but he had not yet put on his mask. Closing the door behind him, he smiled at her and, raising herself on one elbow, she smiled back.

'Abaddon has told me that he exempt you from normal waiting before you become initiate. This ees very special favour that he makes. For you I am most happy. It ees great delight for me also that tonight you become my sister in the Brotherhood of the Ram.'

'Thank you,' she continued to smile at him. 'But as it was you who found me at Mrs. Wardeel's and introduced me here I really owe it to you. I am most grateful for all you have done for me.'

'It ees pleasure; a great pleasure. And you haf no fears now about the ceremony?'

'No, none. I am anxious for it to begin.'

'It will be soon now. Another quarter off an hour and the Brotherhood will haf assembled in the Temple. Presently you tidy hair, put on mantle and mask and I take you down to them. The ceremony begins at ten o'clock.'

'Will the ceremony be similar to the one you let me see the first time you brought me here?' she asked.

'Yes; but more peoples. It ees our great festival tonight. First all Brothers and Sisters make report off their work for Our Lord Satan. That take an hour perhaps. Next the Great Ram will grant desires and make healings. Then the initiates sign pacts in own blood. At midnight comes sacrifice of Ram and baptism of initiates. After that, great feast and, for you, Service to Temple.'

Mary was thinking to herself, 'So I've another two hours to wait before the really exciting part starts.'

Ratnadatta's rabbit teeth flashed white between his thick lips in a wide smile, and he said, 'I read your thought. It ees you wish early part off ceremony could be over quicker.'

'Well,' she gave a slight shrug, 'I shall naturally be glad when I've got through the formal procedure of being initiated.'

'No! No!' he laughed. 'It is that you haf now become impatient to take your part in revels weech follow.'

'All right, then,' she smiled. 'Why should I not admit it? I never remember feeling so much like enjoying a big party.'

He moved nearer to her, still smiling. 'And offering yourself for Service in Temple, eh? You haf wish that next two hours were already gone, so that straight away you reap joy from rite symbolizing Creation?'

'Of course I feel like that,' she agreed, a shade impatiently. 'It's the result of a terribly strong drug that Honorius made me drink.'

He nodded. 'Yes, I know it. The Golden Liquor of Aphrodite it ees called. It never fails to produce effect. Well, that is why I come early. You perform Service to Temple with me now.'

Up to that moment she had had no suspicion of what he was driving at. For the first time she looked at him not as a mine of information on the Satanic cult, but as a man. Only a few minutes ago she had been wanting desperately to be made love to. And now a would-be lover stood before her. He was dumpy and ill-shapen, but now that did not seem to matter so much; or that she had never before given herself to a coloured man. The skin of his body was lighter than that of his face and, in spite of his little paunch, he looked younger and stronger than when he had his clothes on.

The drug had robbed her of all moral sense. Never had she felt such an urge as now seethed inside her. She had become an animal, a wild thing of the jungle, obsessed with a blind desire to take a mate. Suddenly she shut her eyes, threw herself back, and cried:

'All right then!'

Next moment he had pulled the bedclothes down and sprung into bed beside her. His arm went round her body, his thick lips closed on her mouth.

It was his breath that brought back to her the reality of what was happening. With his kiss she got the full stench of it; the sickly sweet smell of bad lobster. As though her head had suddenly been ducked in icy water, it instantly cleared her brain. She was appalled by the madness that had caused her only a moment before to agree to let him become her lover. How could she have permitted this loathsome creature even to touch her? Jerking her mouth from his, she cried:

'Stop! I didn't mean it!'

Her eyes were open now and she saw the look of surprise that came over his face. Partially releasing her he half sat up, peered down into her face, and exclaimed, 'What ees the matter? I do not understand.'

'Get off me! Get off me!' She put her hands up on his chest and pushed at him. At the same moment she caught another whiff of his nauseating breath and turned her face away.

'Ah!' he murmured, enlightenment dawning in his dark, short-sighted eyes. 'It ees my breath that you dislike. It comes from upset stomach. I haf been meaning for some weeks to ask the Great Ram to cure me of this disorder.'

'No! It's you I dislike! All of you!' Her lips trembling, she glared up at him. 'Get away from me! Get away!'

He smiled and shook his head. 'Now you behave foolishly. It ees with me that you must fulfil rite off Temple Service.'

'It's not! I won't!'

'You will. You are my disciple. I haf been the one who brings you here. To be first with you ees my privilege.'

'You're lying! Just as you lied to me about what would be expected of me after my initiation.'

'I make you a little misleading; no more. What difference can it haf for you if it ees now we perform rite together or in few hours time?'

'I'll not perform it with you, ever! Ever!'

'But yes.' He passed his tongue greedily over his lips. 'You shall, and I tell you why. Abaddon will give you order to and you haf taken oath to obey him ...'

'He won't,' she retorted furiously. 'He'll do nothing of the kind. Honorius promised that I'd not be asked to give myself to anyone I found repulsive.'

His eyes became black with sudden anger. Seizing her by the shoulders, he forced her back and snarled: 'You think yourself better because you haf white skin, eh? Then I teach you lesson. Under skins men and women all the same. You submit to me whether you like or not.'

'You beast! You filthy brute,' she cried and, heaving up her knees, she threw him half off her. Bui he managed to keep his grip on her shoulders. For a few minutes they wrestled furiously, then he grunted:

'Little fool! Stop struggling! It makes no difference to you in end and make less enjoyment for us both.'

Now half mad with hate and terror, she gave an hysterical laugh. 'Enjoy making love with you! I'd sooner go to bed with a leper! Let go of me, you swine!'

He was in poor condition and his breath was coming fast, but he panted out, 'For insult I pay you later. In Temple we... we haf whips for those who get pleasure as sadist. In morning I... I give you good whipping. You . . . you go home your white skin red with weals.'

Threats meant nothing to her now. From the exertion of holding her down he had begun to sweat, and the stink of him made her want to retch. Squirming and kicking she strove to force him away from her. She was sobbing for breath and her head was throbbing madly, but with a sudden effort she succeeded in wrenching one arm free. Throwing up her hand she clawed at his face. Her nails missed his eye but scored two furrows down his cheek and blood showed on his dark skin.

Her attack caused him to release his hold. Seizing the opportunity she raised her shoulders and hit him with her clenched fist, this time in the mouth.

Cursing her in Urdu he jerked his head back, thrust her off with one hand and came up on his knees. Wild with elation at the thought that she was getting the better of him, she struck out again. The blow caught him on the side of the chin, knocking him sideways.

Now that he was off balance, she gave a sudden heave. He toppled off her and landed with a bump on the floor. In an instant he had scrambled to his knees, but she had swung her legs round and kicked him with her left foot on the side of the head, sending him sprawling.

Jumping from the bed she stood for a moment gazing wildly round for something to use as a weapon. Had a knife been to hand she would have snatched it up and killed him. Her eyes roved the dressing-table, but the bottles there seemed too small for lethal purposes. Next, her glance lit on the nearest chair. It had spindle legs and was quite light, so she had no doubts about her power to lift and swing it. But it was within a few feet of him. Could she reach and grab its back before he reached out and seized her?

Her momentary hesitation proved her undoing. He was already up on his knees again. As she darted forward he drew back his right arm and hit her with all his strength in the stomach.

With a gasp of agony she doubled up. Coming to his feet he clutched her by the shoulders, swung her round, and threw her backward on to the bed. Every flicker of breath had been driven from her lungs. The pain in her middle was excruciating. Momentarily she was blinded by it so utterly that she was incapable of movement. Now he had her at his mercy. His eyes aflame, blood running down his cheek, slobbering at the mouth, he muttered, 'You white bitch! You white bitch!' and flung himself at her.

Her determination to resist returned, but the blow in the stomach had drained the strength from her limbs. She could struggle only feebly. Tears were running from her eyes and her mind was distraught with anguish. She felt that she would never be clean again; that, for the rest of her life, she would loathe the lovely body she had been given. To go through life with the knowledge that as the result of her own folly she had suffered such degradation was too much. Drug or no drug, how could she ever excuse herself for having invited her husband's murderer to become her lover? There was only one thing for it. As soon as she could get away she must kill herself. The Thames was only a few hundred yards distant. She would go straight to the embankment and throw herself into the river.

While these appalling thoughts flashed through her brain, her wind was coming back. Now she suddenly opened her mouth and snapped viciously with her teeth. They met in his lower lip.

He let out a yelp of pain, threw up his hands and grabbed her by the throat. For a second time that night she knew the foretaste of strangulation. As his thumbs compressed her windpipe, her teeth unclosed, releasing his lip. He jerked his head back and again cursed her in his native tongue.

Her stomach still felt as though it had been kicked by a mule, but the strength was ebbing back into her muscles. She made a new attempt to throw him off, but he had a firmer grip on her than before. With an awful sinking feeling she knew that she was nearly finished. Another few moments and she would be compelled to cease her struggles from complete exhaustion.

While doing his utmost to keep her still, he was looking down into her eyes. Suddenly she realized that he had now decided to hypnotize her into obedience. Recalling how swiftly Honorius had succeeded in rendering her unconscious, she instantly shut her eyes and renewed her efforts to break free. By now her breath had returned to her. Hate, rage, agony, loathing and despair, all combined into one impulse. Opening her mouth she shouted, 'Oh God! Help! Save me! Help!'

This desperate struggle had occupied only a few minutes, and during them she had needed all her breath to fight off her attacker. Even now, as instinct forced the despairing cry from her,

she was vaguely aware of its futility; for if anyone did chance to hear it and came in to see what was the matter, being of the Brotherhood they would side with Ratnadatta.

Nevertheless, he attempted to stifle her cries by clamping a hand over her mouth. Snapping her teeth again she bit into the lower part of his middle finger. With an imprecation he dragged his hand away. Hysterical now, she recommenced her screaming. 'Help! Murder! Help! Help! Help!'

With his open hand he slapped her face. Momentarily that silenced her. She moaned and twisted her head from side to side, but there was little else she could do. With a bitterness beyond description, she knew that she was at the end of her tether.

Neither she nor Ratnadatta heard the door open, and both of them were taken by complete surprise when a loud, deep man's voice enquired from close by:

'What the heck is going on here?'

As though a magic wand had been waved, for a moment the struggling couple seemed frozen into complete immobility. Only the rasping of their breath broke the silence of the quiet room. Then Ratnadatta turned his head in the direction from which the voice had come. At the same moment Mary took a quick peep between her lashes. Seeing that he was no longer looking down at her, she slapped a hand on to the side of his face and thrust him violently away. The impulse from her thrust threw him back on to his feet. Letting go of her he swung round to face the newcomer.

Mary sat up and also turned in his direction. Instantly she recognized him as the fair-haired colossus who had picked her up off her feet on the night she had been presented as a neophyte. He stood a good six feet five and was broad with it. She had thought of him as about thirty, but when she had seen him before he had been wearing a mask; now that she had a clear view of his features, she judged him to be in his early forties.

His forehead was broad but not high, his nose a great hook, his mouth a thin hard line, his chin aggressive and deeply cleft in the centre. In striking contrast to his ash-blond hair, his eyes were black and his complexion ruddy. An ethnologist would have graded him at once as a cross between a Scandinavian and a Red Indian. Too overwrought to feel any surprise at the fact, she saw that he was wearing the uniform of an American officer. Actually, it was that of a Colonel in the United States Air Force.

Launching herself forward, she ran past Ratnadatta and fell on her knees in front of the hook-nosed giant. Hinging her arms round his legs, she wailed, 'Oh save me! Help me! Save me from this fiend!'

The deep, slightly husky, voice came again, addressing the Indian.

'Say now, what's all this in aid of?'

'For you it has nothing to do,' Ratnadatta replied angrily. 'Plees to leave this room. It ees private.'

'I wouldn't like to get you wrong,' the Colonel's husky voice was lazy, 'but am I to understand that you're telling me to get out?'

There was a moment's pause, then the reply came: 'I tell you only that this ees private matter. With you nothing to do.'

'Is that so. Well, happen I'm curious. Private or no, I'd like to hear about it.'

'You haf no right. . .' the Indian began, but the American cut him short.

'None of us has any rights, son, 'cept those we take. An' I take plenty. Spill it!'

'I tell you, then. This woman ees neophyte. Tonight she become initiate. She must perform Service to Temple. I give her instruction, but she ees very nervous type and show a little unwilling.'

'He's lying,' Mary sobbed. 'I need no instruction. I'm not nervous. I loath him and he attempted to force me.'

Ignoring her, the big man said to Ratnadatta: 'So that's the game. Trying to beat the gun, eh? You know darn well that lots are drawn for the neophytes, and those who have a yen to try them out have to wait their turn.'

'Do what thou wilt shall be the Whole off the Law,' Ratnadatta quoted in angry protest.

'Yeah, if you can get away with it,' the American sneered. 'And we've an understanding among ourselves that there should be no poaching on the neophytes. They're taboo until their act comes on down in the Temple.'

Almost hysterical with relief, Mary cried, 'I knew it! He was sent only to take me down there. Oh please, please, protect me from him and take me down yourself.'

'I've got to get out of my things yet,' he replied, 'and I'm a bit on the late side as it is. That was lucky for you lady, else, had I gotten here and passed by on my way to change a few minutes earlier, I wouldn't have heard you blowing your top.'

Mary was still on her knees, clinging to his legs and with her face pressed against him. 'Don't leave me!' she pleaded. 'For God's sake don't leave me with him. Take me with you to the room where you're going to change.'

'Stand up so I can have a look at you,' he ordered.

Getting to her feet, she took a step backwards to enable him to get a full view of herself.

His black eyes ran over her body, then fastened on her face. He gave a low whistle. 'You certainly are quite something, aren't you? Why, Lucifer bless us! I believe you're the neophyte who was sworn in only two weeks back.'

She nodded. 'Yes; and when you kissed me you picked me right up off my feet.'

'That's so. I remember. But you had a mask on then. I hadn't seen your face. Reckon I could get five thousand dollars for you in the South American market.' His eyes narrowed a little, and he added, 'Let's see your back view.'

Mary turned round. After studying her for a moment, he muttered, 'Not a blemish. You're just the goods I've been looking for.' Suddenly he gave her a hard slap on the behind, laughed and cried, 'Go get your clothes on.'

She stumbled forward. His statement that she would fetch a high price if white-slaved to South America was the last thing to inspire confidence in him as a rescuer. But he had told her to get dressed. That could only mean that instead of taking her down to the Temple he intended to take her away with him. It was only just on ten o'clock and, once out in the streets of London, opportunities must occur which would enable her to regain her freedom. At the moment the one thing that mattered to her was to get away from the loathsome Ratnadatta. After only a second's hesitation, she ran to the wardrobe, wrenched it open and grabbed up her stockings.

For the past few moments Ratnadatta had stood by in silence, watching them with a sullen scowl. Now, he demanded of the American, 'Tell, plees, what you intend?'

The other laughed again. 'I intend, son, to beat you to it. For the record, you may add that I rate this particular Judy too good to be shared; I'm taking her outer here.'

'You cannot do this. It ees forbidden.'

'Do what thou wilt shall be the Whole of the Law,' the tall Colonel quoted back at him with a sneer.

But we haf understandings between ourselves. You haf yourself remark that.'

'So what?'

To do as you say ees to rob this Lodge off one who was made neophyte in it. For that Abaddon make you pay heavy penalty.'

"To hell with Abaddon. I've my own Lodge back in the States, and I'm as big a shot as he is.'

'But tonight ees feast of obligation. To attend is duty to Our Lord Satan. No excuse taken.'

Mary had already wriggled into her belt and thrown her skirt over her head. As she hastily pulled it down, she saw sudden indecision appear on the ruddy hook-nosed face of the American. The appalling thought that he might change his mind and perhaps, after all, leave her in Ratnadatta's clutches had the temporary effect on her of a paralytic stroke. Rigid with apprehension she stood, her hands still on her skirt, her eyes riveted upon him.

Meanwhile Ratnadatta was going on. 'Also all ees arranged for her to become initiate. You take her from here and you deprive the Brotherhood off a new Sister, perhaps very valuable one.'

'She can take her initiation later. Plenty of time for that. It's a bare two weeks since she became a neophyte.'

'All the same, it ees ordered for tonight. Her name will haf been given to the Great Ram. He ees Abaddon's master, your master, master off us all. When he learns that she ees missing he will ask why. Then he haf only to give one thought to know place where you haf taken her. He then put terrible curse upon you.'

The American shook his head. 'You've got that one wrong, son. The Great Ram wouldn't put a black on me just for postponing the initiation of a neophyte. I'd have to do something a mighty sight worse than that before he did me dirt. He needs the sort of help that only I can give him for a project of his own.'

'To haf such strong position ees fortunate for you. But what off feast off obligation?' Ratnadatta persisted. 'For preventing a neophyte's initiation you are excused, perhaps. But not failure to attend yourself. What can this woman give that compensate you for what follow? Why such great hurry? To risk much for something you can get otherways a little later ees height of foolishness.'

It was evident to Mary that the Indian's argument weighed heavily with the Colonel. His ruddy, eagle features were set in a deep frown. For a moment he stood silent, a prey to indecision. Then he said:

'Maybe you've got something there. Now I've happened on this honey, though, I'll share her with no one. Leastways, not till she's gone stale on me. Reckon I'll take her outer here and park her some place, then beat it back in time to be in on the sacrifice.'

Glancing at Mary, he added, sharply, 'What are you waiting for? Get the rest of your things on.'

Seeing himself about to lose his intended victim, Ratnadatta's coffee-coloured face became grey with fury. Losing all control his voice rose in shrill defiance, 'I not let you take her. I not let you. It ees whole Brotherhood off this Lodge you rob for own selfish pleasure. I go tell. I haf them stop you and throw you into street.'

Starting forward, he ran towards the door to the sitting-room. Before he had covered half the distance, the huge American stepped in front of him and swung back a clenched fist the size of a small leg of lamb. It came up with the force of a battering ram, striking the Indian beneath the jaw.

For a second Ratnadatta's feet actually left the carpet. He curved over backwards, came down with a crash and slithered along it to bring up with a bump against the bathroom door. There he remained, a twisted, unmoving figure. Mary wished that she had been capable of giving him that blow herself, but as she stared down at the still, crumpled body she could not help exclaiming:

'My God; you've killed him!'

The colossus smiled. 'Could be. I've known fellers' necks break from being given a little jolt like that. If so, his buddies will find a way of getting rid of the body. But I'd say he's only visiting the astral. He'll be back in about an hour, feeling sorry more than somewhat he didn't behave more civil.'

Quickly Mary pulled her shoes on, then snatched up her coat and bag. Her rescuer took her by the arm. Crossing the sitting-room, they went out into the passage. By this time the Brotherhood had assembled in the Temple, so there was no one about. Side by side they ran down the two flights of stairs. In the hall the two negro footmen were standing, but their lack-lustre eyes remained expressionless, and they made no move to stop the hurrying couple. A moment later they were through the front door and out in the courtyard.

As Mary drew in the cool night air, she thought that nothing had ever felt so good. She had been in the mansion for a little over three hours, but they seemed like three weeks. That morning, when she had believed herself finished with Ratnadatta and been looking forward to enjoying an evening out with Barney, seemed half a life time away.

Her tall companion guided her over to one of the half-dozen cars that were parked in the courtyard. As he thrust her into it she noticed that it was large and powerful. He switched on the lights, started up the engine and turned it into the alleyway. As it emerged at the far end and came out into the street, he muttered:

'Drat this ceremony! Why must it be on the night I've found a honey like you? And what'll I do with you till I can collect you in the morning? Reckon I'd best take you to your home.'

Mary's heart bounded with delight. Ratnadatta's attack on her had dissipated the effects of the aphrodisiac. She no longer wanted any man, and certainly not this hulking American. He too was a Satanist and, apparently, a white-slaver into the bargain. How she could ever have thought of him as a lover she could not now imagine. He might have a fine body, but like the others his mind must be a sink of iniquity. When he had dropped her she would wait for ten minutes in the hall of the house, then go out, get a taxi and drive straight to Colonel Verney's. She should be with him shortly after half past ten. If he was at home he would soon get things moving. If not, she would go on to Scotland Yard. One way or another, by midnight she would pull off the great coup she had visualized earlier. Ratnadatta, Abaddon, Honorius, the whole of this evil murderous crew, would be flung handcuffed into police vans.

'Where d'you live?' asked her companion.

She told him, and he said: 'I'm acquainted with the Cromwell Road, but not sure how best to get to it from here. Can you guide me?'

'Yes,' she breathed, trying to keep the excitement she felt from being noticeable in her voice. 'Take the next turning to the left. That will bring us to the Fulham Road. We cross it and go straight on through the Boltons.'

The car ran smoothly on. As they approached the Fulham Road he said: 'About the morning. You'll not take a run-out powder on me, will you?'

'Of course not!' In order to dispel any doubts he might have, she managed to raise a laugh and, quite unscrupulously, went on to lie to him. 'A fortnight ago I picked you out as just the boyfriend I've always wanted. I bet you are wonderful as a lover. How I wish you hadn't got to go back there, so that it could be tonight.'

Two minutes later they were running along the right side of the oval garden on to which the houses in the Boltons faced. When they reached its far end, instead of steering the car into Gilston Road he swung it round so that it headed back down the other side of the oval.

'Hi!' she exclaimed. 'What are you doing? This isn't the way.'

'Sure it's not,' he grunted. 'But I've been thinking. By sacrificing something more acceptable than a ram, and by delivering you back to Abaddon tomorrow, I could put myself right for cutting tonight's fiesta. And that's the way I've decided to play it.'

'Where . . .' she gasped, all her fears rushing back on her. 'Where are you taking me?�

'Down to the country. I'm stationed near Cambridge, but I don't live in camp. I've hired me a grand little maison with everything that opens and shuts. We'll be there by a half after eleven, and you've hit the jack-pot with your wish. I mean to give you the night of your life.'

CHAPTER XVI THE SETTING OF A TRAP

On that same Saturday, all unsuspecting of what fate had in store for Mary, Barney went to his lunch appointment with his Chief at the Army and Navy Club. The hall porter told him that he would find Colonel Verney in the smoking-room so, having parked his bag, he walked quickly up the splendid staircase. As it was a Saturday the big room, with its leather-covered sofas and scores of easy chairs, was almost empty. Verney was sitting at a table near a window with a pink gin and a pint of Pimm's in front of him. He made it a rule never to lunch alone, as he considered that to do so would have been wasting what often turned out to be the most valuable part of the day. On days when he had no appointment to lunch with officers in the Intelligence Departments of the Service Ministries, or senior Civil Servants, he always took one of his own young men to lunch at his Club, because doing so enabled him both to get to know them better and encouraged them to regard him as a friend as well as their master.

'Here's how!' he said, picking up the pink gin as Barney sat down. Barney reached for the Pimm's and grinned. 'What a memory you've got, Sir, to have ordered my favourite tipple.'

'It's just part of the Austin Reed service,' C.B. replied laconically. 'Talking of "service", Farnborough have fixed us up. About twice a week they send an aircraft down to Wales to facilitate the exchange of secret documents, personnel, special parts, and so on. They were sending one first thing tomorrow morning to bring back the American egg-head who is on a visit there. Instead, it is going to fly us down this afternoon and its pilot will remain there overnight. I said we'd be at Farnborough at three-thirty; so we've no need to hurry over lunch.'

While they ate a pleasant meal, they reviewed the extraordinary case of Otto Khune and his twin and, when they got to the cheese, rather gloomily contemplated the risk that would have to be run if Otto were allowed to hand over to Lothar the fuel formula in desolate moorland country at a spot that could be kept under observation only from a distance. But, as they rose from the table, they agreed that it was futile to attempt to assess how great the risk of Lothar getting away would be, until they were on the spot and could make a thorough reconnaissance of the proposed meeting place.

At the entrance to the Club, Verney's car was waiting and he told his chauffeur to drive them down to the Royal Air Force Experimental Establishment at Farnborough. There they were led out to a small six-seater passenger aircraft and, after a short delay for the usual last-minute testing of the engine, took off for Wales. For the greater part of the journey they were flying through cloud, but about five o'clock they could see below them crests in the chain of the Cambrian mountains and soon afterwards began to descend towards a stretch of rugged, desolate coast.

Along it for miles no buildings were to be seen, except those of the Rocket Experimental Station, but those were scattered over a wide area enclosed by a high lattice and barbed-wire topped, fence. The place had little resemblance to an Atomic Station as there were no great buildings housing reactors, and many were temporary structures that had been erected soon after the war when materials were still short.

As C.B. was aware, most of these had now fallen into disuse since. With the development of rockets, another Experimental Station had been established in the Hebrides, much of the personnel had been transferred to it and it was there that the great Inter-Continental Ballistic Missiles were tried out. The experiments here in Wales were now confined to rocket weapons for tactical use, the development of metals having maximum heat resistance in ratio to weight and fuels with maximum power in relation to bulk.

As the landing strip was used only infrequently, its control tower was not kept permanently manned; but Farnborough had notified the Station to expect an arrival, so the staff responsible were on the look-out and, as the aircraft circled out over the sea, her pilot received the all clear signal to come in. Five minutes later, C.B. was being greeted by Forsby and introducing Barney to him.

The landing strip was some distance from the main group of buildings, so the Squadron-Leader had brought his car. In it he drove them past some abandoned hutments, a football ground and a row of hard tennis courts, to a wide quadrangle of well-kept lawn, two sides of which were flanked with modern steel and glass buildings, and a third, facing towards the sea, occupied by one of red brick in the neo-Georgian style. Pointing to it. Forsby said:

'That houses the H.Q., Admin., and the senior Mess; the residential quarters for single types are just behind it. The married quarters are some way away, down by the sea; quite nice little houses, each with a bit of garden.'

At the back of the red brick block there was an avenue with young trees planted on both sides in wide borders of grass, beyond which were two rows of bungalows. Near the end of the avenue an airman, wearing a security-police armlet, was standing. As the car pulled up, he saluted and Forsby said to him:

'Harlow, here are the two gentlemen you are to look after. The tall one is Mr. Smith and the short one Mr. Brown. Their bags are in the boot. They will be coming along for a wash before dinner, so you might unpack for them but, after that, I don't think they will need you till tomorrow morning.'

'Very good, Sir.' Harlow saluted again, and grinned as 'Mr. Smith' and 'Mr. Brown' nodded and smiled at him. When he had got their bags out, Forsby turned the car round and said to his guests:

'Sorry I can't put you up under my own roof, but we always keep a few of these quarters prepared for visitors, and Harlow is a good chap; I'm sure he'll see to it that you are comfortable.' Then he ran the car back about three hundred yards, they all got out and he led the way into his own bungalow.

It had a small hall, but a good big sitting-room which he had furnished with his own things, and a casual glance round it was enough to reveal his main interests. Two fishing rods, a creel and a gaff stood in one corner, and a high proportion of the books in a bookcase at the far end of the room were to do with birds. In the window there stood a gate-legged mahogany dining table which was already laid for dinner and, on the right of the door, a smaller table on which stood the usual selection of drinks. Waving a hand towards it, he asked:

'What will you have?' Then, while helping them to the drinks they chose, he went on, 'In the Mess tonight they are giving a special party for our visiting American. I didn't feel that you would particularly want to be in on that; and, anyhow, it might be better if you didn't meet Khune until you have decided what to do about him. So I've laid on dinner for us here.'

'Couldn't be better, Dick,' Verney nodded. 'We'll be able to natter on without interruption about this pretty kettle of fish with which we've been landed.'

Forsby gave him a far from happy look. 'It's the queerest business I've ever been involved in. I've handled plenty of spies and would-be traitors in my time; but I've never before found myself up against a Black Magician, and I suppose that is what you'd call this man Lothar.'

'You've said it, chum. He's a Black Magician all right,' Verney agreed. "The way he has used his psychic powers on this wretched brother of his suggested that he might be, and Sullivan here, having discovered that the house in Cremorne where they were going to meet is a Satanic Temple, clinched the matter. The thing that infuriates me is that they didn't meet there at midday today as arranged. We had everything set to pick up Otto quietly as he came out. If Lothar had left the place we could have picked him up too. But Saturday is the night of the week that these degenerates meet to hold their orgies, and today is May Day eve, the biggest Satanic feast in the whole year; so we can be pretty sure that Lothar would have stayed on for that, and that it will be a bumper meeting. I'd been hoping to give them the surprise of their lives and get him and all the rest of the unholy crew in the bag by a Special Branch swoop at midnight.'

'Do you mean to have the swoop carried out anyhow?'

'No. I cancelled it, because there's a chance that if Lothar gives us the slip, he may use the place as a bolt hole. I'm having a round-the-clock watch kept on it, so if he does we'll know, and can go in and get him. His Satanist pals can't possibly be aware that we have tied him up with them; so, if we do pinch him here tomorrow and he uses his psychic powers to tell them that he's in the bag, they won't take alarm. We'll be able to go in and mop them up any Saturday.'

Little Forsby ran a hand over his greying hair. 'I must say I still find communication by psychic means a bit hard to take. I mean, not just odd snatches of telepathy, but when carried on with the same ease as two signallers miles apart could exchange thoughts through their morse buzzers.'

'Like everything else it's largely a matter of practice; that is, of course, given that the people concerned have the right apparatus - psychic sensitivity in this case - to start with. Anyhow, I should have thought the tape recordings that you have taken during the past ten days of Otto's, well - for the lack of a better word -nightmares, would have accustomed you to the idea by now.'

'They have, in a way. But at times, when I play them back, I'm almost inclined to believe that I'm imagining them; that I've taken to drink through having been cooped up for so long between the sea and the mountains, and have got D.T.s, or something! They send shivers down my spine.'

Verney nodded. 'I can well believe it. All the same, I'd like you to run them through for us after dinner.'

'Of course. I was expecting that you would want to hear them. I'm sorry that it should be necessary, and that you should have had to make this trip; but hearing a playover of the recordings may help you to decide how best to tackle the situation.'

'This Lone Tree Hill,' C.B. asked, 'whereabouts is it, and what is it like?'

'It is about four miles to north-eastward of the Station, and quite a well-known landmark in these parts. To reach it one leaves by the main gate and drives for some three miles until reaching a side road, leading north across a bridge that spans a small river. I quite often fish there. Beyond the bridge is moorland with a certain amount of stony outcrop and the ground slopes up fairly steeply. The track does not go up the hill but goes round it to a farm that lies on the far side, a good two-and-a-half miles from the main road. The hill is easy to climb and its top is rounded with just this one big pine on its crest. The tree must be a hundred years old by now, or more, as most of its branches are dead. Beyond it, about two hundred yards down the farther slope, there is a wood, and beyond that another, steeper hill. That's as good a description as I can give you, but I'll take you there tomorrow morning.'

'What is the ground like-the open part from the bridge on? Are there gorse bushes and gullies, or is it just flat heather land?'

'There is a certain amount of gorse, and some gullies. Those and the lumps of outcrop would provide a fair degree of cover, if you are thinking of putting a cordon round it.'

'It's that I have in mind. If I do decide to risk it, how is the personnel situation? How many could you muster?'

'I've a score of R.A.F. police, and, if you were agreeable to my having a quiet word with certain other people, I could probably raise double that number.'

'No; we had better confine this to the police, your assistants and ourselves. That should give us twenty-five or so; enough, if they understand how to handle a rifle. What sort of marksmen are they?'

Forsby shook his head. 'Sorry, C.B., but I wouldn't know. I suppose by admitting that I'm putting up a black, because in theory I should be able to tell you. But you know how things go in peacetime. They are allowed five rounds per annum apiece to bang off on a range and, if they miss the target altogether, what can one do about it? Does your question mean that you would order my boys to fire on Lothar?�

'I would, if Otto had given him the formula and he looked like getting away with it. The thing I have to decide is whether we dare risk even giving him a chance to do so.'

'Better leave that until you've made a recce of the ground for yourself tomorrow morning.' The Squadron-Leader stood up. 'How about a breath of air before dinner? As you are here, it might interest you both to have a look round the Station.'

They agreed, finished their drinks and went out with him. He took them down to the foreshore where, just above springtide level, there were steel and concrete platforms for launching various types of rocket; then to a covered gun-park, lined up in which stood half-a-dozen pieces of artillery, all of experimental types designed either to fire rockets from ground to air targets, or for tactical use with small atomic warheads against ground troops. Towards one end of the curving bay he pointed out the cluster of villas that gave the married quarters the appearance of a small village; then led them in the opposite direction to a much nearer long, low building that was the Station Club. In it there were a dance-hall, cinema, library, lounge, writing-room and bar, provided by the Ministry of Supply with the intention of relieving from boredom, as far as that was possible, the men and women stationed in this lonely spot.

After the best part of an hour's walk, Forsby brought them back to 'Bachelors Avenue' and the bungalow they were to occupy for the night. There they found that Harlow had unpacked their bags and put everything ready for them. When they had freshened themselves up with a wash, they walked down to Forsby's bungalow and drank a glass of good dry Sherry with him while his man set out the grape fruit that was the first course for their dinner.

Over it, owing to Forsby's insistence, Verney talked about the Black Art and gave them an account of a most desperate affair in which, a few years before, he had found himself up against a most powerful Black Magician in the South of France. However, he declared that he really knew very little about the subject, apart from the principles on which it worked; but he assured them that the occasions on which his job had brought him up against Satanic groups had given him ample proof that it did work if operated by a really knowledgeable occultist who was well-versed in its mysteries. He added that, in his opinion, most cases of reported Black Magic were nothing of the kind, but clever trickery skilfully put over by highly intelligent gangs of crooks who, by such measures, got wealthy credulous people who were interested in the occult into their clutches for the purpose of blackmail; but he left them in no doubt that he believed Lothar Khune to be a genuine member of the Devil's fraternity.

When the table had been cleared, Forsby produced the tape recorder and, as they settled down in the easy chairs, he said; 'You will appreciate that for the greater part of each night the tapes recorded nothing. They have been cut to retain only the parts which will play back sound. Much of the stuff you'll find quite unintelligible; at least, I have. But now and then there occur conversations which it is easy to follow. I don't pretend to understand it, but during these nightmares, or whatever they are, Otto Khune speaks with two different voices: his own and, presumably, Lothar's. One can only assume that they carry on a sort of argument, in which Lothar uses Otto's vocal chords to express his views alternately with Otto voicing protests in his own. I should warn you that it will be a pretty long session, as there is an awful lot about the state the world is in and what could be done to better it.'

'I take it you mean by that,' Verney remarked, 'Lothar producing all the old arguments about how much better it would be for the masses if every country accepted Communism?'

'No,' Forsby replied, and on his face there was a puzzled frown. 'That is what one would expect, but somehow the line he takes does not strike me in that way. He says more than once that he is fed up with the Communists and regards their impetus as burnt out. That may be bluff, of course, with the idea of inclining Otto more readily to do the swap of data on secret fuels with him. But he insists that he wants the results of the work done by Otto's team only to carry out some experiment of his own, which will bring about a new state of things and relieve people on both sides of the Iron Curtain from their fears of being blown to blazes by H-bombs. Anyhow, you can judge for yourself. Here goes.'

He switched on the machine, refilled their glasses with a pleasant Tawny Port, and sat down in his own chair. Then, for the next hour and a half, while he changed the tapes from time to time, they listened, almost without comment. The recordings all began with grunts, shouts, curses and protests, often followed by an unintelligible rigmarole, but then settled down into arguments during which two different voices were clearly perceptible -Otto's in English, as spontaneous and unaccented as though he had spoken no other tongue since his birth; Lothar's, also speaking fluent English, but with a faintly nasal twang. Otto's was almost always angry; Lothar's persuasive and sweetly reasonable, except for occasional outbursts in the later recordings when he resorted to violent threats.

At length the recordings were over, and Forsby mixed his guests and himself whiskies and sodas before they got down to discussing them.

Verney said: 'You are right, Dick, about Lothar giving the impression that he is fed up with Moscow. If one can believe what he says it seems that he hoped the Russians would launch a war against the N.A.T.O. Powers and establish a New Order, more or less on Nazi lines, in Western Europe and later in the United States. But he has come to the conclusion that the Kremlin is not prepared to play it that way and prefers a policy aimed at bringing the democracies to ruin by gradually gaining control of the whole of Asia and Africa and closing all the markets in them to the nations of the West.'

'To me, Lothar sounded like a megalomaniac,' Barney remarked. 'My guess is that personal power is what he is after. He wants to see some sort of drastic upheaval before he is too old to play a part in it.'

'I don't altogether agree,' Forsby countered. 'You may be right to the extent that he no longer sees eye to eye with his Russian masters because he thinks that he'll be dead before their policy of peaceful penetration begins to pay really big dividends but to me his aim seems to be to bring about a completely new world order. When I was in Spain during the Civil War there, I talked with quite a number of anarchists, and some of the things he says tally with the views they expressed. It's a topsy-turvy sort of doctrine based on the old idea that out of evil cometh good. They want to destroy all forms of government and start again from scratch.'

'He is a destroyer, all right,' said C.B. grimly. 'But I think we must regard all this "good of mankind- brotherhood of nations" stuff as eye-wash. Whatever he may say, there's not much question about his being a Soviet agent.'

'I suppose so,' Forsby agreed, a shade doubtfully. 'Although, in one passage, he did say that having left Russia he did not mean ever to go back there.'

'Come, come, Dick. If he is not a secret agent, what reason could he have for wanting to get hold of this fuel formula? And if he is a secret agent, knowing his background as we do, what country would he be working for other than Russia?'

'It's a hundred to one you're right, Sir,' Barney put in. 'But, as he is a scientist and worked first in the States, then in Germany, then in Russia, there is just a possibility that he's got some box of tricks of his own and wants our fuel to try it out with-a flying saucer, or something.'

'You're off the mark there, young feller. Such formulae are extraordinarily complicated things, and no private person could get one of them made up.'

Forsby shook his head. 'I don't agree with you there, C.B. The ingredients are all procurable from any big manufacturer of chemicals. The only secret is in the combination and proportions. It would be expensive, of course; but I'm pretty sure he could get the job done without being brought to book for having illegal possession of the formula in any of several countries outside the N.A.T.O. group - Sweden, Switzerland or Spain, for example. And if he has the money, there would be nothing to stop him from having built to his own designs some revolutionary type of aircraft as Sullivan suggests.

Verney offered round his case of long cigarettes, took one himself, and said: 'Maybe you're right; but we're wasting our time with these academical speculations. Let's get back to earth. Whatever Lothar's future intentions may be, he is endeavouring to secure a top-secret document, and coming here tomorrow to receive it from his brother. As their arrangements have all been made by telepathic communication, we have not got a scrap of evidence against either of them. The tape recordings would justify our holding Otto in preventative arrest, but what a man says in his nightmares cuts no ice in a court of law, except in support of something much more definite. So unless the document is actually handed over, Lothar will be able to cock a snook at us, walk off, and plan a further attempt to get hold of it which we may not be fortunate enough to find out about. As against that, if we do let Otto hand it over and Lothar manages to get away with it, quite apart from having let down our side, it will be bowler hats for all of us. Now, any suggestions?'

Barney held up his hand. 'Yes, Sir. Otto has had a lousy deal all through. He's resisted Lothar's demands until he has been driven off his chump, and he seems a very decent sort of chap. If you let the show go on you'll have to pinch him as well as Lothar and, whatever we may say afterwards about extenuating

circumstances, he'll have committed a treasonable act, so he'll get a prison sentence. That strikes me as damnably unfair.'

'I agree,' Verney nodded, 'and I couldn't be sorrier for the poor devil. But, if we are to get the goods on Lothar, I see no way of letting Otto out. Still, if you've had a brainwave, let's hear it.'

'It is that you should see Otto tomorrow morning, tell him we know what is going on and offer him the chance both to keep in the clear himself and get his own back on his brother. If he agreed to play, instead of taking the real formula to the meeting he would hand over a dud one. If Lothar gets away, there would be no harm done; but, if we catch him, you'll have a clear case to put him away for a good long stretch.'

C.B. shook his head. 'You are forgetting the psychic angle. Lothar checked up on Otto last night. That's how he learnt that the meeting they had arranged for today was off. He may check up again tonight and again tomorrow, to make certain that Otto isn't slipping and likely to let him down at the last moment. How far he can see into Otto's mind, we don't know. It's not far enough, thank God, to register scientific experiments or he wouldn't need to go to so much trouble to secure a written formula; but he must be highly sensitive to Otto's vibrations. If he sensed a change of mind, suggesting that Otto was helping to lay a trap for him, he would not turn up and, if we miss this chance to catch him, we may never get another.'

'All the same,' said Forsby, 'I agree with Sullivan that we ought to try to think of some way to protect Otto from himself.'

'I only wish we could, Dick. But wait!' C.B. suddenly sat forward and put his first finger alongside his big nose. 'I believe I've got it, boys. Why shouldn't we detain Otto just before he's due to leave the Station, borrow the old raincoat and beret that Otto has been told to use as signs of his identity, dress up in them whichever of the Air Force police we have selected earlier as having a figure most like his, and send this chap to the rendezvous with a dud formula?'

The other two considered his suggestion for a moment, then Forsby objected. 'When Lothar got near enough to see that it was not his brother he would realize that he was walking into a trap and turn and bolt for it. Remember, we couldn't pinch him unless he had actually accepted the document.'

'If he as much as touches it, that, backed up by the fact that he came to the rendezvous agreed on in the recordings, for a felonious purpose, will be all I need to cook his goose; and I believe that, with a little titivating, my idea might be made to work. There must be a path up to the top of the hill. Our phoney Otto could sit with his back to it and his head in his hands, as though feeling frightful at the thought of the treachery he is about to commit. He'd pretend not to hear Lothar approach until he was only a few feet off, then suddenly break into muttered curses and throw the envelope at him.'

'That's it, C.B.!' Barney exclaimed with enthusiasm. 'Sorry, Sir, I mean. If only the Squadron-Leader can produce an Air Force police type with hair the same colour as Otto's, and long enough so that we can trim it to make it look like his and ...'

He got no further. The electric front-door bell shrilled through the bungalow, cutting him short.

As Forsby got up he shook his head. 'It's pretty wild, C.B. My chaps aren't trained actors, you know. I'm afraid Lothar would smell a rat. Still, all's fair in love and war, and I'd have no scruples in swearing that from a hideout I'd seen him pick up the document. Excuse me a minute while I answer the door and get rid of my caller. I expect it is someone who's been at the dinner then had the idea of taking a nightcap off me.'

On going out to the hall he left the sitting-room door ajar, so when he opened his front door the others heard an agitated voice say, 'Forsby... Squadron-Leader . . . I'm in trouble . . . serious trouble. I want to talk to you about it. May I come in?�

'Please do,' came Forsby's reply. After a slight shuffling of feet, the sitting-room door swung back and there stood framed in it a tall, slim, fair-haired man of about forty. He had a fine head, heavy-lidded black eyes, a thin high nose, indrawn lips, a heavy owl and forceful chin that was cleft in the centre.

At seeing other people there he became rigid, and he did not attempt to conceal his surprise and annoyance. But Forsby, who was behind him, blocking his retreat, said: 'Mr. Khune, I'd like to introduce you to two friends of mine. Both of them are officers of the Security Service.'

Verney and Barney had risen from their chairs. The Colonel said: 'Mr. Khune, I'm very glad to have this opportunity of a talk with you. Anything that you intended to say to Squadron-Leader Forsby you may also say to my colleague and myself; although, actually, I don't think you can tell us much that we don't already know. You may regard it as unethical but there are times when, for the safety of the Realm, we have to adopt unorthodox measures. A copy was taken of the long statement you wrote and we have read it with understanding and deep sympathy. Also, recordings have been taken of your conscious or unconscious nightly - er, arguments, over the past ten days with your brother Lothar. So we know about your proposed meeting with him on Lone Tree Hill tomorrow. It is to prevent your needlessly incriminating yourself, and to prevent him from securing information the use of which would be contrary to this country's interests, that we have come down from London.'

After a moment a nervous smile twitched at Otto Khune's thin lips. 'If that is the situation, gentlemen, it looks as if I'm to be saved a lot of talking. And, to be truthful, I was a little afraid that the Squadron-Leader here might not take what I had to say seriously; or, rather, might get the idea that I was well on the way to becoming a candidate for a straight-jacket.'

'No,' Forsby assured him, pulling out a chair. 'We have been worrying about you for quite a tune; but not with any thought that we might have to send you to a loony bin. Learning about the strange relationship which exists between you and your brother, and the use he hopes to make of it, have been much nearer driving me in that direction.'

'I'm sorry.' Otto gave another nervous smile. 'But the thought that I can now speak freely about these things is a great relief to me.'

'Whisky and soda?' Forsby asked. 'Thanks,' the scientist replied.

As the Squadron-Leader mixed one he asked, 'When you arrived here just now, what had you in mind to say to me?�

Khune took a gulp of his whisky, and shrugged. 'I meant to tell you what, apparently, you already know.' 'And then?' prompted Verney.

'See if we couldn't devise some means of trapping this villainous brother of mine.'

'Good for you.' C.B.'s thin face showed his pleasure and relief at this offer of co-operation.

Forsby touched the scientist gently on the shoulder, and asked, 'Tell me, Khune, why did you wait until almost the last minute before coming to me like this? You could have saved yourself hours of mental torture if you had confided in me soon after the trouble started.'

Khune put a hand over his blue eyes for a moment, then gave himself a little shake. 'Of course I ought to have. But it meant disclosing the past; telling you about Lothar's visit to London in 1950. He had entered this country illegally and was acting as a Soviet agent then. It was my duty to have reported him to the police at once, but I didn't. I was afraid that if that went on my record I'd be graded at the Ministry as unreliable and transferred to non-secret work. That may not mean very much to you people, but to a scientist like myself, who has spent years on a special type of research, it would have been heart-breaking.'

Verney stretched out his long legs. 'Yes, I understand that; but later, when Lothar began to really plague you, surely...'

'It was my battle,' Kiune broke in impatiently. 'After what Lothar did to me last time, he hadn't a hope in hell of persuading me to believe that his intentions were anything but evil; and I never even contemplated giving way to him. I'm not a traitor! And you've no right to infer that I am just because I didn't come to Forsby earlier.'

'I didn't infer that.' C.B.'s voice was as quiet as ever. 'But you did give way to him, didn't you? If it hadn't been for the visit of this American you would have met him in London today.'

'Yes, the pressure he was exerting on me was too great. By Thursday night things had reached a point where I knew that I had to do something about it or I'd no longer be responsible for my actions. But I had no intention of taking the formula to London with me. I intended only to see Lothar at a house in Cremorne and have a show-down with him.'

'Why should you have supposed that you would have a better chance of making him agree to leave you alone when face to face than during these arguments you have with him on the astral?'

Khune gave a faint smile. 'Our psychic bond cuts both ways. There are times when I can overlook him and, when his mind is occupied with something else, he doesn't know that I am doing so. He has become a Satanist. I'm convinced of that. I've seen him in a Satanic Temple with a lot of naked women crowding round him. He was seated on a throne dressed in black and wearing a big horned mask; and he had a small black imp standing at his side.'

'Bejasus!' Barney exclaimed. 'Then he is the Great Ram!'

The others looked at him enquiringly. 'You remember, Sir?' He turned towards C.B. 'Ratnadatta's circle is a Lodge of the Brotherhood of the Ram, and Mrs. M. described the Great Ram to me after her first visit to the place. This means that Lothar is the big shot of the whole outfit.'

'That doesn't surprise me,' Khune remarked. 'From his boyhood on he put an immense amount of effort into developing his occult powers, and he has a tremendously strong personality.'

Verney nodded. 'Knowing what we do about him, I'm not surprised either. But please go on with what you were saying. Why did you feel that you would stand a better chance of overcoming him by going up to London?�

'I felt almost certain that the Satanic Temple was in the house at Cremorne, but Lothar had given me a vision only Of its outside; so I couldn't be certain without making a check up. The sight of its front hall would have been enough and, if I'd been right, that would have given me the card I wanted. I could have told Lothar that to rid myself of him I would no longer have to admit to the police that I had been in communication with a Russian agent. I could give them his description, lay an information that he was running a brothel there, and have it raided. I could have said that unless he agreed to let me alone that's what I meant to do; then, instead of being a High Priest with a harem, he would find himself a wanted criminal on the run.'

'To protect his secret, he might quite well have had your throat cut.'

'I had planned to leave a letter addressed to the Commissioner of Police with the hall porter at my Club, before going to see Lothar; and I should have left instructions with the hall porter that, if I had not returned to collect the letter by four o'clock in the afternoon, he was to send it along to Scotland Yard by hand. Even a crew of Satanists would baulk at murdering a man when told that he had left a letter for the police saying that they might.'

'True. And what if the place had turned out not to be the one in which you had seen the Temple?�

'I'd have been no worse off than before. I'd have told him that I'd see him in hell sooner than let him have the formula.'

'Yet last night, when he learned that you were still here, and turned on the heat, you gave way again and agreed to meet him tomorrow. Was that because he threatened to put a curse on you if you didn't?'

'Well, partly.'

'If you meant to turn up without the formula, you must have expected that he would curse you just the same. And, as you have had no chance to check up on the interior of the house in Cremorne, you'd have had nothing with which to threaten him. So what did you expect to gain by agreeing to this meeting?�

Khune hesitated a second, then his blue eyes suddenly blazed, and he burst out, 'The chance to kill him and get away with it. The odds against my being able to do so in London were too heavy. But, when he demanded that I should meet him down here, I felt that he was playing into my hands. Out there on the moor, I could have done the job and buried the body in some gully.

In these Welsh hills it would have been ten thousand to one against anyone finding it in my lifetime, and I'd have been free of him for good and all.'

'I see,' Verney nodded. 'Having read your statement it had occurred to me that when you came face to face with him you might be tempted to adopt drastic measures, or even plan them in advance. Would you tell us now why you changed your mind tonight, and decided instead to confide in Forsby?�

The scientist began to twist his long knobbly-knuckled hands together. 'Because a quick death is too good for the swine. He has always loathed discomfort, poor food, ugly clothes, and physical labour. Even more, to be baulked in his ambitions and condemned to a mind-rotting routine, with only common criminals as companions, would be a foretaste of hell for him. I can't get him a long prison sentence; but you can. That is why I'm here instead of thinking out the most painful way to kill him.'

They all recalled the account Khune had given of the break-up of his marriage, and realized how greatly he must have suffered at his brother's hands; yet, even so, the seething hatred with which he spoke left them silent for a minute. Then Verney said:

'It is essential that he should be caught with some document on him that he has received from you, or at least receive such a document within sight of a witness, even if he throws it away afterwards. I take it you are willing to make out a dud formula, go to the rendezvous, and give it to him?'

'Certainly.'

'Good. We shall draw a cordon round the place and, unless we are very unlucky, catch him within a few minutes of his leaving you. I must say, though, I wish you hadn't chosen such an exposed position as this Lone Tree Hill, because it means that, to keep under cover until the meeting has taken place, Forsby's men will have to take up positions a good half mile away.'

Khune shrugged. 'That can't be helped. There are limits to what one can convey on the astral, and it had to be some place that he could easily identify. I had nothing of this kind in mind at the time, but I meant to tell him that up there some birdwatcher might chance to see us through a pair of binoculars; so, before I handed him the paper, it would be best for us to walk down to the wood on the far side of the slope. It was there that I meant to kill him.'

'I'd like you still to carry out that idea as, about fifty yards inside the wood, we could arrange an ambush and he would have much less chance of slipping through our fingers.'

When Khune had agreed, they continued to talk about Lothar for a further quarter of an hour; then it was settled that they should all meet at half past nine next morning and go out to reconnoitre Lone Tree Hill. Forsby accompanied the others out into the avenue and, when they had said good night to Khune outside his bungalow, walked on with the visitors to theirs. As they halted in the doorway, C.B. said:

'Well, Dick, we've had a lucky break. I'm very much happier about this job than when I arrived here this afternoon.'

'So am I.' Forsby nodded. 'In the worst case now, if Lothar does get away, it will be only with a useless bit of paper. All I hope is that he doesn't get wind of what is in the air and fail to turn up.'

'I regard that as much less likely than I did an hour ago. He can't be as sensitive as I feared to what goes on in Otto's mind, otherwise he would have tumbled to it on Thursday night, when Otto agreed to go to London, that he didn't mean to bring the formula with him, and instead had cooked up' an idea for doing him dirt.'

'That's true, Sir,' Barney commented. 'All the same, wouldn't it be best to leave Otto behind when we make our reconnaissance tomorrow? If Lothar took it into his head to have a look at him, and saw him with us selecting hideouts from which to trap him, it's a certainty that he'd call his visit off.'

'Good for you, young feller.' Verney turned to the Squadron-Leader. 'Sullivan's right, Dick. We can't be too careful. Slip along to Otto now. Tell him to try to put tomorrow's business out of his mind before he goes to sleep, and that you are going to reinstall the old tape recorder just in case Lothar comes through to him during the night. And that tomorrow we would like him to remain in his bungalow till lunch time.'

On that, they exchanged good nights and Forsby left them. Tired after their long day, they fell asleep within a few minutes of getting into bed and did not wake until Harlow called them with cups of tea and told them he would be bringing them breakfast in half an hour.

At half past nine Forsby came along to them with the most welcome news that Khune had spent his first untroubled night for nearly a fortnight and that the tape on the recorder remained completely blank. They then set out in Forsby's car on their reconnaissance.

Between the Station and Lone Tree Hill there lay a stretch of wooded high ground, so they did not come in sight of the hill until they were within a mile of it; but then they could see that on three sides it was surrounded by open moorland. Turning off the main road, Forsby drove across the bridge and some way along the track that skirted the base of the hill till he reached a path that wound up it. Getting out, they walked the half mile to its summit, had a good look round, then made their way through the knee-deep heath and young bracken down to the wood.

By eleven o'clock they were on the way back to the Station and had made their plan. Verney was to lie in wait in the wood, with six of the police, and the remainder were to be posted at intervals in two semi-circles round the hill behind such boulders and gorse bushes as offered the best cover. As it seemed obvious that Lothar must arrive by car and would approach the hill from the road, that segment of the circle was, to begin with, to be left open. But Forsby and Barney were to keep the bridge under observation from the wooded rise between the hill and the Station. When they saw Lothar cross the bridge they were to drive down the road in Forsby's car, get out and, with his two rods, start fishing in the stream. By that time Lothar should be sideways on to them and half way up the hill, so could hardly fail to see them. This stratagem they hoped would serve the dual purpose of cutting off his retreat to the road and inducing him readily to accept Otto's suggestion that, before he handed over the paper, they should move down the far side of the hill into the wood, and so be out of sight of the fishermen.

At midday they had some sandwiches in Forsby's bungalow and at half past he went to the police quarters to brief his men. The importance of the affair was impressed upon them and the necessity to remain absolutely still in their cover until they heard two blasts of a whistle. They were then to spring up and, if any running figure was in view, make for it, otherwise to remain stationary. Then were they issued with one round blank and four of ball cartridge apiece, but told that they were not to fire upon the wanted man unless he either threatened them with a weapon or, having broken through the cordon, looked like getting away unless he was brought down.

Soon after one o'clock Verney, in a jeep driven by Harlow, collected Khune, who was waiting ready dressed in his old raincoat and blue beret. A lorry with Forsby on its box transported the rest of the security police, and Barney, driving Forsby's car, brought up the rear of the procession as far as the wooded slope.

By half past one the men were all in position and getting down into their cover. Verney and Forsby took a last look round from the top of the hill, then left Khune there - the one to disappear into the wood, the other to drive back in the lorry and join Barney. Harlow followed in the jeep and reversed it under the trees so that, should Lothar succeed in getting back to his car, he could be pursued by road without a moment's delay.

As is so often the case in early May, the weather was pleasant and warm enough to have spent this Sunday afternoon dozing among the ling on the moor, but from two o'clock onwards over twenty very wakeful pairs of eyes kept watch on either the road or the hill-top. Between a quarter past two and a quarter to three, four car-loads carrying families of picnickers passed from the Station on their way inland towards the foothills of the rugged mountains that formed the skyline in the distance, but the majority of the Station's personnel preferred to laze at home, tend their gardens, or spend their afternoon on the beach. No car approached from the other direction.

By three o'clock all those concerned were beginning to feel the strain of watching; by half past, Verney was beginning to fear that Lothar did not, after all, mean to keep the appointment he had made for between two o'clock and four. By four o'clock he had resigned himself to disappointment, but he decided to give Lothar another half hour. That half hour dragged interminably, yet even after it he held his hand for a further five minutes before blowing his whistle.

As soon as Forsby saw movement on the hillside, he ordered up the lorry. The security police were collected and the Squadron-Leader, with Barney beside him, picked up Verney and Khune. As they got into his car, he said resignedly, 'Well, it's not the first time that I've had that sort of wait for nothing, and I don't suppose it will be the last. Lothar must have smelt a rat.'

'You've said it, partner,' agreed C.B.

'I wonder what his next move will be,' Barney hazarded.

'God alone knows!' For once Verney's voice was a shade petulant. 'Anyhow, there's no point now in our remaining here. We'll get back to London as soon as possible.'

'It will take some while to get your aircraft ready,' Forsby told him, 'and you had only sandwiches for lunch, so to fill in time I propose to give you a good solid tea at the Club.'

'Thanks, Dick. I must say it would be welcome.'

When they turned into Bachelors Avenue the little Squadron-Leader again broke the gloomy silence. 'I'm going to get out here. Sullivan can take over the wheel again and Khune will show him the quickest way to the Club. Meanwhile I'll get on the blower, locate your pilot, and tell him you want to get off. Then I'll have Harlow pack your bags and I'll bring them along to the Club in about half an hour's time. You'll act as host to our friends until I can join you, won't you, Khune?�

'Of course. It will be a pleasure,' replied the scientist.

The change over was made and Barney drove off round the Headquarters building. As they came out alongside the quadrangle of lawn in front of it, Khune said:

'It will be an hour at least before they have found your pilot and got your aircraft ready. It always is. Would it interest you to spend ten minutes having a look at my laboratory, and seeing the sort of stuff my swine of a brother is so keen to get his hands on?�

'Yes, I'd like to,' Verney replied. 'Although it may be only a jelly to look at, the thought of the way it can propel tons of metal at thousands of miles an hour through the air is fascinating.'

Khune directed Barney to drive the car round to the back of one of the big steel and glass blocks, and at an entrance to it that had above the doorway, in bold lettering, 'a five', they all got out.

As it was a Sunday the door was shut, but Khune pressed a bell-push and after a few minutes it was opened by a portly elderly man, in a dark blue uniform. He gave Khune one look, then his eyes grew round and he exclaimed:

'Lord alive, Sir! Did you have a crash?'

'Crash! What d'you mean?' Khune frowned.

'Why, for the moment I thought you was a ghost. Can't be more than an hour and a half since you left for Scotland.'

'Scotland?'

'Yes, Sir. You came here round half past two. Special order, you said. Needed urgent for our place in the 'Ebrides. I got hold of Tommy Carden and we loaded twenty drums out of the store on to a runabout. He drove you with it out to the airstrip and when he got back he told me you meant to deliver it yourself and had gone off with it in a plane. Leastways, that's what I thought he said.'

Verney, Khune and Barney stared at the man dumbfounded. The same awful thought was in all their minds. Lothar had never intended to keep the appointment on Lone Tree Hill. He had made it only to get Otto out of the Station for the afternoon. He had arrived there in an aeroplane and impersonated his brother. He had not got the formula, but he had done far better. He had made off with twenty drums of the fuel all ready for use.

CHAPTER XVII UNHAPPY RETURN

Verney was quick to realize that unless he intervened at once, Otto might say something that would start all sorts of undesirable rumours running round the Station, so he glanced at his watch and said:

'I really think we ought to postpone our visit to your laboratory, Mr. Khune, until after we have been along to the airstrip. Perhaps we'll have time to see it later.'

Khune gave him a blank stare for a moment, then took the hint, muttered something to the doorkeeper about 'change of plans' and turned back to the car. They all got in it and, as soon as the engine was running, he exclaimed:

'It must have been Lothar! How utterly damnable! Yet there's no other explanation.'

'None, I'm afraid,' C.B. agreed grimly. 'I didn't want you to start cross-questioning that chap, because the fewer people to get wind of it that something's wrong, the better. He was quite definite though, and he can hardly have been dreaming. We'll know for certain as soon as we get to the airstrip. Is it usual to send the stuff up to Scotland in an aircraft?'

'Yes. It's not only quicker, but safer, than rail, and if some of it went astray....' Khune broke off short, and ended with a groan.

'It looks as if twenty drums of it has! Is that the normal quantity in a consignment?�

'No. Usually we send eighty to a hundred drums at a time.'

'Lothar was clever then, in not opening his mouth too wide.

The doorkeeper must assume that you know your own stock, and he might have thought it fishy if Lothar, whom he took to be you, had asked for a greater number than there happened to be available. I take it, too, that quite a small part of what he's got would be sufficient for him to have the stuff analysed, and after that there would be no limit to the quantity that could be made up?'

'The analysis would take time, and they might not get the formula exactly; but near enough. And the Russians have many clever chemists, so they might even improve on it.'

'How often do you send consignments up to Scotland?'

'As required; but, on average, about once every three weeks. We send larger consignments now to Australia for the I.C.B.M. range there, but less frequently.'

By this time they were approaching the air strip. The aircraft that had taken the American up to Farnborough that morning, and since returned to collect C.B. and Barney, stood at one end of it; but evidently Forsby had not yet succeeded in getting hold of the pilot, as there was no sign of life. Neither was there any sign of life near the two hangars, in the control tower or at the building that housed the small ground staff. Barney drove up to the latter and they got out.

The building contained only an office and off-duty room on the ground floor and a dormitory for half-a-dozen men above. Verney hurried into the office, found it deserted, then crossed the passage and strode into the room opposite. An R.A.F. Corporal was lounging there with his feet up, reading a Sunday paper. Verney addressed him sharply.

'I am a colleague of Squadron-Leader Forsby's. Are you the duty N.C.O.?�

'Yes, Sir.' The corporal replied, coming quickly to his feet and switching off the radio.

'I understand that about half past two an aircraft came in and took off about half an hour later.'

'That's right, Sir,' the man confirmed their worst fears. 'Quite unexpected it was. Usually we are warned in advance and given the E.T.A. in ample time for whichever of us is on duty to get hold of the others and man the control tower. But with good weather, like it is today, and the strip clear that isn't really necessary. All the same, it's against regulations, and I was a bit took aback.'

'What did you do?'

'I walked over, Sir, and had a word with the pilot. He said that he had come down from our I.C.B.M. Station in the Hebrides to pick up some stuff that was wanted urgent, and he couldn't understand why they had failed to send us a signal about him.'

'What did you do then?'

'I told him he'd better watch out for the aircraft from Farnborough that was due in about half past four, but he said he'd have taken off long before that; so I came back here.'

'Didn't you report this unscheduled landing?'

'I did, Sir, to Flying Officer Leathers, when he and others came along to see the Farnborough arrival in.'

'And what did he say?'

'He entered it in the log, and said he'd send the Hebrides Station a rocket for having failed to warn us that they were sending this aircraft down.'

'Then you let two hours elapse before you reported it?'

The corporal's face became a little sullen. 'Well, it isn't the first time that someone's forgot to send a routine signal, Sir. Anyhow, I didn't think it was anything to get excited about, and neither did my officer when I told him.'

'All right! All right! Describe the pilot to me.'

'He was a tallish chap, age about thirty. Clean shaven, and I think his eyes were brown. He was wearing pilot's kit, not uniform.'

'How many people had he with him?'

'Only one man, Sir. He'd left the aircraft by the time I reached her and, being Sunday, with no one about, he'd walked over to the hangars to get the runabout out for himself. He drove it off towards the laboratory block, to fetch the stuff they'd come for, I suppose.' The corporal turned towards Khune, and added, 'I didn't see him close to, but he was about your build, Sir; dressed like you too, in a mack and a beret.'

'What make was the aircraft,' Verney asked.

'I'm afraid I didn't notice, Sir. She was a two-engined job and I'd say she'd carry up to a ton of cargo.'

'Did you take her number?�

'No, Sir.' The corporal bridled again. 'This isn't like a civil airport, you know, with aircraft coming in from all sorts of places all the time.'

'Hell!' muttered C.B. and, turning, he strode across the passage to the office. He was just about to pick up the telephone when it rang. The corporal, who had followed, murmured, 'Excuse me, Sir,' reached a hand past him, and answered it. After a minute he said:

'It's Squadron-Leader Forsby, saying to have the tower manned to clear the Farnborough plane in three-quarters of an hour.'

C.B. took the receiver from him. 'Dick. This is Verney. There's been a spot of trouble. Instead of going to the Club, drop everything and come here. Yes, at once, please.' Hanging up, he said to the corporal:

'There's no need to get your team together yet. The Farnborough plane won't be leaving till later. I expect the pilot is on his way here though. Go outside and, when he turns up, tell him there has been a postponement.' Then, to Khune, he added, 'Would you be good enough to wait for us across the passage.'

Directly the two men had left the room, he rang the exchange and asked for a priority call to the Air Ministry. While it was being put through he remarked with a frown to Barney: 'As it's Sunday the place will be practically empty and none of our people available. We can only hope that the Duty Group Captain is a live wire.'

The Group Captain proved willing but far from hopeful about tracing Lothar's plane. He too remarked upon its being Sunday, which meant that, in addition to normal traffic, hundreds of trainers and aircraft from Flying Clubs all over the country would be up, so that with such an inadequate description to go on, the chances of the plane being identified were extremely slender. But he said he would send out an emergency signal to all airports to hold any twin-engined transport aircraft that came down to refuel, pending special clearance.

C.B. then got on to Special Branch and asked for a warrant to be taken out for Lothar's arrest, and for a check up that a night and day watch was being kept on the house at Cremorne, in case he returned to it.

While he was still on the telephone, Forsby joined them and Barney told him in a low voice what had happened. When he realized how completely they had been fooled, he shut his eyes and began to curse under his breath. Verney hung up and turned to him.

'This is a bad business, Dick, and I'm afraid I can't congratulate you on your security arrangements for your airstrip.'

'Yes, it's I who am to blame, Sir.' Forsby's tone had at once become formal. 'Normally one of my men is present at every aircraft arrival and departure, to check the passes of the crew as they come off or reboard the plane. The thought that an unauthorized aircraft might come in without warning, land, and get away with it, never occurred to me.'

'In a place of this importance, I think it should have.'

'I'll resign, of course, Sir.'

Verney gave him a gentle pat on the arm. 'You'll do nothing of the kind, old friend. This afternoon we've all been taken for a ride. If anyone is responsible, it is myself, as I came down here to take charge. Now, as an airman, tell me - what is the chance of our bird getting out of the country with his loot?�

The Squadron-Leader glanced at his watch. 'It's now twenty minutes to six, so he must have been gone the best part of three hours. From the description of the aircraft it doesn't sound as though he has anyway near a full load, so he should have had plenty of petrol. Anyway, by now he could have refuelled at some small landing-ground near the East coast and be well out over the North Sea.'

'I feared as much. Still, we might get a break even in Belgium or Holland through the Air Ministry tie-up with N.A.T.O. Anyway, there is no more we can do for the moment, so I'm in favour of accepting that late tea you offered us.'

Having collected Khune, they drove round to the Club and, owing to the hour, settled for drinks instead of tea. Taking their drinks into a corner, they held a gloomy inquest. As a result of it they reached the conclusion that Lothar had probably taken Otto's excuse for not coming up to London - that an American boffin was coming down - to be a lie; so, from Friday night, he had given up hope of persuading him to co-operate and switched to threatening him with a death curse unless he left the Station for a few hours to keep a rendezvous, thus leaving the field free for his double to move about the Station during that time, without fear of coming face to face with him, and to make off with a quantity of the fuel instead of its formula.

It was Barney who produced the idea that, owing to Otto's psychic link with Lothar, the former might be able to secure some clue to the latter's whereabouts. Otto who, since the discovery of the way they had been tricked, had hardly spoken, brightened at once, and said:

'That certainly is a possibility. Anyhow, I will do my utmost; but, for such an attempt, I must have solitude and silence, so I had better go back to my quarters.'

Forsby looked across at C.B. 'I ought to be moving, too. I've the unpleasant task in front of me of reporting this business to the Chief, and I don't want to leave it much longer, as he usually asks a few people along to drinks on Sunday evenings. Do you still wish to set off to London as soon as possible, or would you prefer to dine here first?�

'Dine and sleep, I think,' Verney replied. 'I told the Air Ministry to report back here if they manage to trace Lothar's plane; and now Mr. Khune is going to have a cut at that too from the psychic angle. If either succeeded while Sullivan and I were on our way back to London, we'd lose hours of precious time in getting after him; so we will stay put for the night. We'll all go along to Sir Charles now, and I'll break the news to him for you.'

'That's damned decent of you, C.B. The old boy is bound to take it pretty badly - the actual theft, I mean - and what he'll say when told about the psychic angle, I can't imagine. If I tried to explain that part of it to him without support, he would probably think that I ought to be certified.'

They finished their drinks, returned to the car, dropped Khune at his bungalow, then drove to the Headquarters block, in which the Director of the Station had a flat overlooking the quadrangle. Forsby sent up his name and a few minutes later a man-servant showed them into a pleasant sitting-room.

Sir Charles Remmington-Rudd was a portly man in the middle fifties. He was nearly bald and had heavy sagging jowls, but an alert manner and a friendly smile. When Forsby had introduced his companions, C.B. reported the bare facts.

The eminent scientist said nothing for a moment, then he shook his head. 'This is a very serious matter. Sit down please, gentlemen, and give me full particulars.'

'Thank you, Sir.' Verney took a chair. 'It is an extraordinary story and, I'm afraid, a long one. May I ask to begin with whether you believe in psychic phenomena?'

Sir Charles raised his eyebrows. 'I can answer that only if you give me a precise definition of the meaning to yourself of the term you have used. However, it may help you if I say that science now admits the existence of certain faculties in the human mind which cannot be accounted for by normal processes. Before you go further, though, you say the story is a long one, and I am expecting a few friends in for drinks quite shortly. I take it everything possible is being done to trace these stolen drums of our special fuel?'

'Everything, Sir.'

'Very well, then.' Sir Charles stood up. 'It is now too late to put my friends off, but I can put off a couple who were to dine with me. If I can be of no immediate help this long story of yours will keep for an hour or two, so I suggest that the three of you should return at eight o'clock and tell it to me over dinner.'

They thanked him and took their leave, then repaired to Forsby's bungalow, where they again mulled over the shattering event of the day without getting any further. After a wash and brush up, they dined with Sir Charles, who at first found it difficult to believe what they were saying; but Forsby had brought along a copy of Otto's statement and, after the scientist had read it, he had to agree that the psychic bond between the twins must be accepted.

At half past ten they looked in on Otto. He had tried for an hour before dinner to get into touch with Lothar, then dined in the Mess and, since, tried again, but on both occasions without success. Forsby set the tape recorder in the hope that it might pick up a conversation between the twins during the night, then they all turned in.

On Monday morning the tape proved blank, but Otto reported that he had woken at about half past six after a vivid dream. In it he had seen Lothar getting into an aircraft, standing near which were a number of men in uniform, and he felt sure that these were Americans. He also had a feeling that the place was one of the air bases occupied by United States Forces in Eastern England.

Verney at once rang through to the Air Ministry and asked the senior officer in the Security Department there to take the matter up with his American opposite number and ask for exhaustive enquiries to be made.

This first earnest that Otto might succeed in helping them to trace his brother decided C.B. to take him to London, so that if he had further visions he could give full particulars of them with a minimum of delay. While the aircraft was being got ready to fly them back to Farnborough, Otto arranged with his number two to carry on with the experiments on which he was engaged, then Forsby ran the three of them along to the airstrip.

At Farnborough, Verney's car was waiting to meet them. On the way into central London they stopped at the little hotel in Chelsea and arrangements were made for Otto to stay there, then C.B. dropped Barney in Warwick Square and went on to his office.

In spite of his preoccupations over the week-end, Barney had several times thought of Mary, and he feared that she might have taken rather badly his having had to let her down on Saturday night. So the first thing he did on getting into his flat, was to ring her number. As it was just on lunch-time he hoped to catch her in but there was no reply, so he assumed that she was probably out for the day on one of her modelling jobs.

In the evening he considered buying more roses to take to her, but decided that might give the impression that he had been enjoying himself over the week-end and now had a guilty conscience ; so he arrived in the Cromwell Road at half past seven empty handed but armed with an elaborate story of a millionaire who had suddenly become interested in his Kenya travel project and had insisted on carrying him off to the country on Saturday to discuss putting money into it.

To his disappointment and annoyance, his ring at the front door of Mary's flat brought no response, so evidently she was still out. Hoping that something had detained her, he hung about for nearly an hour, but she did not put in an appearance; so he was forced to the conclusion that she was so annoyed with him that she had decided to ignore the invitation he had posted to her before setting off for Wales, and had already gone out for the evening either alone, or with someone else.

Consoling himself as best he could with the thought that having been up early that morning an "early bed' would be welcome, he ate a solitary dinner at a little restaurant in Gloucester Road and returned to Warwick Square. But it was quite a time before he got off to sleep as thinking of Mary made him realize how much he had been looking forward to seeing her again and how much, in the past fortnight, she had, almost imperceptibly, come to mean to him.

Next morning he rang her number at eight o'clock and, as there was no reply, repeated the call at half past, but still without result. It might be, he thought, that she had had to go out early to catch a train for a model show that she had been booked for somewhere outside London. On the other hand, he knew that she had very few acquaintances, so probably guessed that it was him ringing up and, still suffering from the sulks, had deliberately refrained from answering the telephone. Taking this last to be the most likely assumption, he decided to leave her for thirty-six hours to stew in her own juice.

Before he set about the routine jobs that he had in mind to do that day, he looked in at the office. There he learnt from C.B. that all attempts to trace Lothar had so far failed. The enquiry set on foot by United States Air Force H.Q. had drawn a blank, and Otto's efforts to locate his brother via the astral plane had, so far, produced only a strong impression that he had crossed a sea and was now somewhere on the Continent. Interpol had been asked to help, but with the thousands of aircraft that crisscrossed Europe daily, there was small hope that they would be able to identify the airfield on which a plane, of which they had only a very sketchy description, had come down some twenty-four hours earlier.

That evening another meeting was due to be held by the Communist-dominated branch, down at Hammersmith, of a Union to which Barney belonged; so just before seven he clocked in at the rather dreary little hall that was used on such occasions. There ensued a long wrangle, carried over from the previous meeting, during which the leaders urged the men to refuse to work overtime until a new claim for higher wages was settled. A few older men stood up to say that it seemed wrong to them to put a break on production before the employers had actually refused to grant the new rates of pay, but they were accused by the Reds of being mouthpieces of the bosses, and shouted down. The go-slow motion was passed and about nine o'clock the meeting broke up. The little fraternity of Communists who had control of the branch made for the pub they frequented, and Barney with them.

After they had had a few rounds of drinks, the leery little man who had tipped Barney off to lay wagers that Tom Ruddy would not be elected as the new Secretary-General of the C.G.T. drew him aside and asked him if he had made good use of the tip.

'I stand to win about ten quid,' Barney told him with a grin.

'You bloody fool!' the little man snorted, and spat in the cuspidor. 'You ought to have made yerself fifty. But you've missed the blinking boat now. That is for taking on any more suckers. News'll be out tomorrow morning. Mr. bloody Ruddy's standing down.'

'Are you certain?' Barney asked, concealing his dismay under an expression of surprised cheerfulness.

'Course I am,' came the prompt reply. 'He's thrown his hand in. I can't tell you why. Don't know meself. But I had it straight from the horse's mouth that the Comrades meant to put a fast one over him.'

At closing time the groups broke up and, as was his custom on such occasions, Barney set out by a circuitous route back to the Tube Station. On his way he thought of Mary again and his resolution of the morning - to make no further attempt to get into touch with her for the next thirty-six hours. Reconsidered, it seemed to him that he was probably cutting off his nose to spite his face and that, as he was so anxious to make it up with her, the more evidence he gave of his eagerness to do so, the more likely she was to relent. In consequence, instead of taking the Underground to Victoria, he got out at Gloucester Road and walked along to the tall old house in which Mary had her little flat.

On his way there, as it was nearly half past ten, he was expecting to find her in; but she was not. Since it was a Tuesday, it occurred to him that, although she had promised him not to, she might have gone to the weekly meeting at Mrs. Wardeel's. If so, she should soon be back; if not, the odds seemed to be that she had gone to a cinema, in which case also she would soon be home. He decided to wait for her, but feeling that in his 'worker's' clothes he might be taken for a suspicious character if found lurking on her landing by one of the other tenants, he went out into the street and took up a position on the other side of the road.

There had been many occasions when Barney's work had necessitated his waiting outside a block of flats or offices for hours at a stretch; so the undertaking was not new to him and he thought himself lucky that the night was fine. Now and then he changed his position, taking a short stroll but never going beyond clear sight of the house, for to do so would have been to risk her arriving just at the moment when he had ceased to watch; then he might wait on till dawn, accuse her next day of having stayed out all night, and later find that she could show proof that he was entirely mistaken.

Eleven o'clock came, half past, and a quarter to twelve, without Mary appearing. By then he had decided that she must have gone out to dinner with a man and the thought annoyed him considerably. Although she had given him to understand that she had no family, the fact that she appeared to have no friends at all had often puzzled him. Even if she had not been living for a long time in London, it seemed strange that any young widow with her attractions should not have acquired at least one man friend. That she had not, thus leaving him a free field, he had come to accept; so, now he believed that someone had entered it against him, he felt a quite unjustified resentment.

Animated by more than a suspicion of jealousy, he decided to continue his watch, so that when his rival brought Mary home he might have a sight of him. Between midnight and one the volume of passing traffic down London's long main western artery fell steeply, the buses ceased, while private cars and taxis, from having been a steady stream, were reduced to a trickle. By half past one Barney began to think of throwing his hand in. It was an hour since he had run out of cigarettes, and Mary's failure to return suggested that she had not only gone out to dinner or a show, but also gone on to supper somewhere.

He had been telling himself that if she was out with a man it was probably some middle-aged director or important customer of one of the fashion houses for which she modelled, and that she had accepted an invitation to dine rather than give offence; but, if so, she should have been home by this time. The idea that she was more probably dancing with some young, attractive man now became insistent in his mind, and the memory of her firm young body against his own when they had danced together added fuel to his jealous imaginings.

Two o'clock came, and with it the conviction that Mary and her new beau must have gone on to a night club, which meant that she might not now be home for another couple of hours. More put out than he had been for a long time, Barney hailed a taxi that was crawling westward and had himself driven to Warwick Square.

While he undressed, he had a whisky and soda and some biscuits; then, as he got into bed, he tried to put Mary out of his mind. It was no good, but his thoughts did take another direction. Perhaps that evening she had gone out with a chap, yet it seemed strange that she had also been out the night before and out, apparently, on the several occasions when he had tried to ring her up. The explanation might be that she had suddenly decided to take a holiday.

Yet if that were so, why, before leaving London, had she not let him know? The note he had written on Saturday morning must have reached her by first post on Monday. Surely, even if she was furious with him, she would have let him know it by writing a few angry lines in reply, which he should have received that morning? Could she possibly have met with an accident over the week-end and be in hospital? Or, unlikely as it seemed after the way she had broken down at their last meeting, and sworn to have no more to do with the Satanists, had Ratnadatta, after all, again got hold of her?

At that disturbing thought Barney switched on the light again and set his alarm-clock for six o'clock, determined now to go really fully into the question first thing in the morning.

Soon after seven he was back in Cromwell Road. As there were a dozen tenants in the old house, its front door was always left on the latch from first thing in the morning up till eleven at night; so he walked straight in and upstairs. His ring at Mary's door remained unanswered. Hoping that she was still in bed, and perhaps sleeping very soundly after her late night out, he waited for a few minutes then rang again, this time insistently. Taking his finger from the bell he listened but no sound of movement came from within the flat, so he then felt certain that she could not be there. In anticipation of such a possibility, he had brought with him a small implement, the efficient use of which he had been taught when training for his job. With it, in less than a minute he had the door open without damaging the lock. The first thing his eye lit on, face upwards on the mat, was the letter he had posted to Mary on Saturday morning. Evidently the caretaker, or somebody, brought up the tenants' mail and pushed it through their letterboxes. Anyhow, the fact that it was still there showed that Mary had not been in her flat during the past two days.

Closing the door behind him, he took a quick look into each of the four rooms of the flat. The bathroom and tiny kitchen were clean and in good order; the bed had been made up and on the sitting-room table stood a vase holding a dozen long-stemmed roses. In the wastepaper basket he found the four pieces of a card, confirming that they were the roses he had ordered from Constance Spry's for Mary and, from the way in which the card had been ripped across, an indication of her anger on realizing the reason for his sending them to her. Taken together, the roses, the letter on the mat, and the unslept-in bed added up to Mary's having gone out sometime between Saturday afternoon and Sunday evening and not returned. With the hope of coming upon some clue to where she had gone, he began a systematic search of the premises. In the circumstances he felt no scruples about doing so and, as his duties made it necessary for him to carry out such searches fairly frequently, he did the job swiftly and thoroughly but with an automatic care which resulted in everything he disturbed being left exactly as he had found it.

The only room to yield any information of interest was the bedroom. The cupboards and drawers were full of Mary's clothes. On checking through the major items he found everything there in which he had seen her, with the exception of a grey coat and skirt. It could be assumed that she had been wearing those when she went out, so had last left the flat in daytime. Up on a high shelf there were a hat box and a beauty box, and under the bed he came upon three suitcases. Two of them bore the initials M.M. and the third E.T.M. The latter Barney guessed to have belonged to the deceased Monsieur Mauriac and he wondered for a moment what E. stood for in the name of Mary's ex-French-customs-officer husband - Emile, perhaps, or Edouard.

Anyway, the presence of the clothes and luggage made it clear that Mary had not gone off for a holiday; or even, as was confirmed by the finding of her sponge-bag and washing kit in the bathroom, deliberately for a night. Now really worried about what had become of her, Barney relocked the front door of the flat and hurried down to the basement.

Down there in the gloomy depths, as Mary had told him, lived a not particularly likeable couple named Coggins. The landlord had put them in charge of the building and, theoretically, they were supposed to perform any reasonable small services that the tenants required but actually they would not lift a finger without being tipped. The man went out to work but could be bribed to carry up heavy luggage on his return. The wife took in parcels, cleaned for some of the tenants and did small commissions in the way of shopping for those whose jobs prevented them from doing their own regularly.

Barney found Mrs. Coggins sorting out some washing, which had been drying in the backyard on the previous day. Her thick brows lifted at the sight of a stranger, and she enquired: 'What do you want, walking into my scullery like this, young man?'

With his most disarming smile, he replied, 'I'm a friend of Mrs. Mauriac's and I'm worried about her. She is not in her flat, and I have reason to suppose that she has not been home for the past three nights. Can you give me any idea what has happened to her?' 'Tenants' business is none of my business,' said the blowsy woman, with a suggestion of malicious pleasure. 'And if she'd wanted you to know where she was goin' off to, she would have told you, wouldn't she?�

Barney had had plenty of experience of dealing with Mrs. Coggins' type. He spoke again, with an edge on his voice. 'Mrs. Mauriac's disappearance may turn out to be a very serious matter. Either you will answer my questions truthfully, promptly and politely, or I shall bring the police in to question you for me.' 'Lor!' exclaimed Mrs. Coggins, immediately both overawed and stimulated by a new interest. 'She hasn't been murdered, has she?'

'I sincerely trust not. Tell me; when did you see her last?' 'Saturday, around one o'clock. Some flowers came in a big box from a florist, and I took 'em up to 'er. All them stairs. I tell you them stairs'll be the death of me. But she gave me a bob for me trouble, as I knew she would.'

'And you've no idea what happened to her after that?' 'No. Leastwise, not for certain. But there was the coloured gentleman what came enquiring for her about six o'clock.' 'What's that?' Barney snapped.

Mrs. Coggins shrugged and, sensing the possibility of getting under Barney's skin, replied with a superior smile. T wouldn't have thought one like her would have taken up with a coloured man; but there's never any telling, is there? Some people say as how they are more manly in a manner of speakin' than white fellers, and a lot of girls prefer their fellers to be that way. Of

course___'

'I am not interested in your speculations,' Barney cut her short. 'What was this coloured man like, and did she see him?'