The Satanist

'Well, he weren't a coloured man in the proper sense. Not a real nigger with curly" hair an all; just coffee. Some sort of Indian I suppose, and very well spoken. It's expected that tenants' visitors shall go up and ring the bells of those they want. But this man rang again and again for me. I went up prepared to give whoever it was a piece of my mind, but he told me he'd rung Mrs. Mauriac's bell again and again and couldn't get no reply, and could I tell him when she would be coming in. Of course I told him I'd no idea; then he asked my permission to wait there in the front hall till she came in. To that I said, "You can please yerself, there's no law against it". Then when I come up about an hour later with a bottle of whisky for the gentleman in the second floor back that we call "the Colonel", the coloured gent was no longer there. So maybe she'd come in and gone straight out again with him.'

'Thank you.' Barney turned on his heel, ran quickly up the basement stairs and went out into the street. He had no doubt whatever that the 'coloured gentleman' was Ratnadatta; but what could possibly have induced Margot - as he thought of her -to go out with him? Surely just pique at his, Barney's, having let her down could not account for her reversing her decision to have nothing more to do with the Indian? And if, from annoyance and boredom, she had allowed herself to be persuaded, why had she not returned to her flat since? Perhaps he had hypnotized her and was now detaining her against her will in the mansion at Cremorne? In any case, it seemed certain that Ratnadatta having come to Cromwell Road on Saturday evening, it was he who was responsible for her disappearance; and its implications were now extremely alarming.

Barney's immediate impulse was to go to Cremorne, but a moment's thought was enough to check it. Bulldog Drummond tactics were all very well in fiction, but for him to break in and attempt to tackle on his own the permanent staff that must live in the house could result only in disaster. He must restrain his impatience, make a report, secure a search warrant and have Special Branch raid the place officially. But it had taken him barely half an hour to search Mary's flat, so it was still not yet eight o'clock and C.B. would not be in his office until half past nine.

Now a prey to acute anxiety, Barney strode along to the Earls Court Road, went into a Lyons and killed time as best he could by having breakfast there. Well before half past nine he arrived at the office and posted himself in the hall ready to waylay C.B.

Verney arrived punctually, nodded 'good morning' to him and made for the lift. Barney returned his greeting and said hurriedly, 'Can I come up with you, Sir? There is a matter I want to see you about urgently.'

'Sorry,' C.B. shook his head. 'I think I know what it is, but I can't see you yet. I must go through my mail, and Thompson of Special Branch is coming over at a quarter to ten. When I've seen him I hope we'll know more about it. Go to your room and I'll ring through for you as soon as I am free.'

Wondering how the Colonel could possibly have got to know of Margot's disappearance. Barney went up to the room which, when he was working in the office, he shared with two other young men. At five past ten Verney's P.A. summoned him, and he went up to the big office on the top floor.

On his entering the room the Colonel waved him to a chair, and said: 'This is a perfectly damnable business, and there's nothing we can do about it. Thompson got the truth out of Tom Ruddy last night, but he flatly refuses to prosecute.'

'Tom Ruddy?' Barney echoed, momentarily taken aback. 'No, Father Christmas!' retorted C.B., with an irritable impatience quite unusual in him. 'Or am I wrong in supposing that you came here this morning to report to me that he has withdrawn his name as a candidate for Secretary-General of the C.G.T. ?' 'Yes; no, I mean,' faltered Barney, suddenly recalled to the duty entailed by his major mission. 'I picked up a pretty definite rumour to that effect in Hammersmith last night, and of course intended to report it.'

'Very well then. This ties up with your second string; so sit down and I'll tell you about it. I heard that Ruddy had thrown his hand in yesterday afternoon, so I asked Inspector Thompson to go to see him and try to find out why. Of course, it's none of our business officially, but I felt certain there must be something fishy about it, and that if Ruddy could be persuaded to accept police help we might be able to restore the situation. At first he was very reluctant to talk but, after Thompson had given him his word that no action of any kind which might involve him should be taken, he got the story.'

C.B. stuffed some tobacco down into his pipe, and went on. 'One wouldn't have thought that a man like Ruddy would be a superstitious fool; but he is. Apparently his old mum used to tell fortunes pretty accurately, so he has been a believer in that sort of thing all his life. About a year ago someone introduced him to a crystal-gazer named Emily Purbess, a middle-aged and apparently respectable body. He has consulted Mrs. P. several times in the past six months and she's given him guidance that he says has paid off well on various problems connected with his election campaign. About ten days ago she warned him that there was trouble ahead; someone he relied on was going to double-cross him, and if he didn't watch out that would wreck his chances. But she couldn't tell him who or what to watch out for.

'Naturally that got him worried, so she suggested that he should consult someone who had greater occult powers than herself and gave him the address of a man named Biernbaum, who is in practice in the West End as a psycho-analyst. Biernbaum gave Ruddy a lot of gupp about seeing into the future really being a science which was understood by the ancients and is only now being rediscovered, and how it had recently been proved that they were right to use pure young girls as priestesses in the temples because nubile virgins were the best vehicles for conveying the voices of unseen powers; then he said that, for a fee, he could take Ruddy to a house in which a young woman who had been trained to prophesy invariably produced the goods. Ruddy agreed to cough up five pounds and was told to report at Biernbaum's consulting room again on Saturday evening.'

'Saturday evening,' Barney repeated. 'That's the night the Satanists meet. Did this chap Biernbaum take him along to the house in Cremorne?�

C.B. nodded. 'You've hit it, partner. At least I'm pretty certain that is where they went. Biernbaum must have put Ruddy under a light hypnosis because after they got into a taxi he doesn't remember the streets through which they passed, or those by which they returned about an hour later; but his description of the approach to the place, and of its outside, tallies. He says the inside was like that of a nobleman'3 mansion, as seen on the films, but he was received by an elderly bald-headed doctor, who runs the place, and a fine looking woman who was dressed as a nurse. They told him that their most gifted girl had been taken ill but, as the appointment had been made, she had agreed all the same to prophesy for him. Then they took him up to a luxurious bedroom where a lovely girl was lying in bed with her eyes shut and the sheets up to her chin.'

Barney grinned suddenly. 'This sounds more fun than getting a blowsy old woman to peer into a crystal. Did the lovely prove a good oracle?'

'Yes, she prophesied all right. In fact, so plausibly that she shook poor Ruddy to his buttoned boots. She described the chap who was supposed to be going to do him dirt, and unmistakably she was seeing young Sir Hamish McFadden.'

�The chap whose father left him about ten million pounds worth of shipping, and is now regarded as quite a big shot among the Socialist intelligentsia?'

"That's right. But even if he is ass enough to believe in their old fashioned theories, he at least has the sense to realize the Communist danger, and he has been spending quite a lot of money lately to finance the campaigns of honest Trade Unionists like Ruddy, who want to oust the Reds. Ruddy was going down to lunch with him at his place in Kent last Sunday, to fix the final details about I.T.V. appearances, leaflets, and other anti-Communist propaganda for which Sir Hamish is footing the bill. But the prophecy decided Ruddy to call his visit off.'

'So that's how they worked it.' Barney made a grimace. 'I suppose by Monday Ruddy and Sir Hamish had quarrelled violently and, after the break, Ruddy felt that, without the financial support he had been promised, he no longer stood a chance?'

'Good Lord, no! With, or without Sir Hamish, Ruddy could still romp home. He has thrown his hand in on personal grounds: on account of his family. The lovely oracle predicted for him, despite everything, a smashing victory. She even got so enthusiastic about it that, although she was as naked as when her mother bore her, she suddenly sat up in bed and threw an arm round his neck. It was at that moment that from some camouflaged point of vantage someone took a photograph of them.' 'Blackmail!' exclaimed Barney.

'That's it. On Monday a man who was a complete stranger to Ruddy brought him a copy, gave it to him and said: 'We thought you might like to have this as a souvenir. We have plenty more and either you lay off standing for Secretary-General, or your wife gets one tomorrow.' 'What swine these people are!'

'Of course. Communists are of two kinds only. Gadarene Swine whose wits have been taken from them so that they rush headlong down the slope to their own destruction, and ordinary voracious swine who, if you were standing in their sty, had a heart-attack and fell among them, would instantly set upon and devour you - just as did the pigs in T. F. Powys' novel, "Mr. Tasker's Gods".'

'I know, Sir. But this sort of thing really is frightful. Did poor old Ruddy cave in right away?'

'I gather so. He told Thompson that he had been happily married for twenty-four years and counted his wife his greatest blessing; but she was not the sort of woman who would even tolerate his dancing twice in an evening with the good-looking wife of another chap at a Trade Union social and that once she had made his life a misery for a couple of months because she had found out that, while she was on holiday at the seaside with the children, he had taken a pretty typist to a movie. He said that the sight of the photograph would be a terrible shock to her. He felt sure that her principles would prove stronger than her affections: that, filled with righteous indignation, she would leave him, taking their two unmarried daughters with her, and that no political success he might achieve could compensate a man of his age for the loss of his family.'

'Couldn't he explain?' Barney asked. 'Surely if his wife loves him, and he told the truth, she would believe him?�

'Put yourself in his shoes, or hers.' C.B. gave a short hard laugh and tossed across the desk a photograph. 'Take a look at that. Thompson asked Ruddy to let him have the loan of it so that Scotland Yard could try to identify the woman, and Ruddy said he was glad to get it out of the house, provided it was destroyed afterwards. Can you see yourself endeavouring to persuade a middle-aged, narrow-minded and distrustful wife that you had gone to the bedroom of this naked lady for no other reason than the hope that she would predict for you the winner of the Derby?'

I Barney had picked up the photograph and was staring at it as though his eyes might pop out of their sockets. It showed the stalwart grey-haired Tom Ruddy leaning forward on the far side of a richly furnished bed. Sitting up in the bed, nude to the thighs, an inviting smile on her lips, an encouraging hand on Ruddy's shoulder, was the beautiful prophetess. Almost choking with mixed emotions, he stammered:

'But... damn it... this is Margot Mauriac! How ... how could she have lent herself to this sort of thing? How could she?

Verney raised his prawn-like eyebrows. 'Really! Is she, now? Perhaps I ought to have guessed, but somehow I didn't. Her real name isn't Mauriac, though; it's Mary Morden.'

CHAPTER XVIII 'WHEN ROGUES FALL OUT...'

What!' exclaimed Barney, dropping the photographs. 'Teddy Morden's widow! Bejasus! Well, that explains a lot of things. The last time I saw her she confessed to me that her reason for wanting to become a Satanist was to have it in her power to be avenged on somebody. I understand that now. She must have believed, just as I did, that a link existed somewhere between Mrs. Wardeel's set-up and Morden's murder, decided that Ratnadatta was the link and that it was his crew of Satanists that had done Morden in; then made up her mind to become one herself as the only way of getting evidence against his killers.'

'That's right; or, at all events, it's the line she said she intended to follow when she came to see me before starting on the job.'

'Hang it all, Sir! Since you knew that she and I were working along the same lines, why didn't you tell me about her?'

C.B. shrugged. 'In our work it often pays better to let two people carry on an investigation unknown to one another. Otherwise, if one gets on the wrong track and tells the other, both may follow it, with the result that both of them waste a lot of time. That is why I said nothing to you about Mrs. Morden when she told me what she meant to do.'

'But later, Sir. My reports made it clear that both of us were on the right track. If only ...'

'No; you are off the mark there. When you told me that an attractive young woman had begun to attend Mrs. Wardeel's evenings a little before yourself, and of her having persuaded Ratnadatta to take her along to his Satanic circle, it did occur to me that she might be Mary Morden. If you remember, I questioned you very closely about her, but the description you gave me of Mrs. Mauriac was so totally unlike that of the Mrs. Morden I knew that I concluded they must be different women.' Picking up the photograph, C.B. went on, 'I told her that she would be wise to disguise herself, but I didn't credit her with being able to do the job so thoroughly. In this, her hair, eyebrows and mouth are entirely changed from when I last saw her. In fact, it wasn't until I began to study the photograph carefully that I recognized her.'

'I see. She hasn't been reporting to you in person, then, but in writing.'

'She hasn't been reporting to me at all. She offered her services but I told her that I couldn't possibly take her on officially.'

Barney's brown eyes smouldered. 'D'you mean that you let her go into this filthy business on her own, without either guidance or protection?�

'I did my best to argue her out of her idea, but she refused to be put off. I told her then that it would be better for her not to communicate with this office or myself unless she secured definite evidence which might give us a case against her husband's murderers because, if they learned that she had any connection with us, she might be murdered herself. But all this happened over seven weeks ago and, to tell the truth, I'd forgotten all about her till Thompson produced this photograph this morning.'

'Forgotten all about her!' Barney repeated angrily. 'Good God, Sir; I'd never have thought it of you. To let a lovely girl like her, with no experience of the game, go butting her head into a nest of the vilest crooks imaginable and never even give her a thought....'

'Steady on; steady on!' Verney cut in, but his voice remained as low and even as ever. 'Don't let your sense of chivalry run away with you; and try for a moment to appreciate what it means to occupy this chair. I gave you a key role in an important mission, but you are only one of a score of my people who are engaged on it. I have to receive all their reports as well as yours. And that is only one of my jobs. I have to supervise the watch that is maintained in every port in the kingdom against undesirables entering it; I'm responsible for security in all secret Scientific Establishments; I am having at least fifty potential spies or saboteurs either hunted or kept under observation. Even that is no more than half of it. I have to attend conferences at half-a-dozen Ministries and quite frequently others that take me abroad. This afternoon, for example, I shall be flying to Bonn at the invitation of my opposite number there, for a two-day visit to compare our methods with those in use by the West German Security Services. So your suggestion that I can find the time to keep a private eye upon any young woman who elects, against my advice, to play at being an amateur detective is really rather foolish.' 'I'm sorry, Sir. I'm afraid I hadn't thought of it like that, but...' 'That's all right, Barney. But if you are to go up the ladder here, as you show good promise of doing, you must train yourself to keep a sense of proportion. If it is any comfort to you, I did tell Mary Morden that should she find herself in danger she was to let me know, and I would at once come to her assistance.'

'But she is in danger. That's what I've been wanting to tell you. Of course, I should have told you what I'd heard about Ruddy when I saw you but, to be honest, I'd temporarily forgotten all about him. I came here this morning to tell you about Margot -Mary, I mean. She has been kidnapped by these fiends.' 'Kidnapped? How d'you know?'

'I was to have taken her out on Saturday evening, but I had to put her off because of our going down to Wales. As soon as we got back on Monday I tried to get in touch with her, but couldn't. I tried again several times yesterday, but it was no go; so I kept watch outside the house she lives in last night, hoping to catch her when she came in. By two a.m. she was still not back, so first thing this morning I did an illegal entry job on her flat.' 'You'd have been in a fine mess if you had been caught.' 'No. We know through Otto that Lothar is the Great Ram. Margot - Mary, I mean - has actually seen the Great Ram; which is more than we have. She told me so; even though she went back on it afterwards. My case would have been that I was searching for evidence of a connection between her and a wanted criminal that might lead us to him; and you would have told the police to lay off me.'

C.B. gave a grim little smile. 'Good line that. One up to you. I expect I should have hauled you out anyhow, but don't count on that as carte blanche to ride rough-shod over the law in future. Well, what did you find?'

'That she had been absent from Sunday, if not longer, and her clothes and luggage still being there showed that she had not gone off on a holiday. I went downstairs and questioned the woman who acts for the landlord. She had not seen Margot - damn it, Mary-since midday Saturday, and on Saturday evening Ratnadatta called, asked for Mary and, on learning that she was out, said he would wait in the downstairs hall till she returned. When she did come back, he must have hypnotized her or used some threat to make her go off with him. Anyhow, it's certain that he is at the bottom of her disappearance.'

'But she hasn't disappeared, much less been kidnapped.' Verney declared. 'We know from Ruddy that this photograph was taken on Saturday night, and his description of the house to which Biernbaum took him tallies with the one at Cremorne. It is a fair bet, too, that if Ratnadatta collected her an hour or two earlier that is where he would have taken her. So we have a double check on where she went to and no evidence whatever to suggest that she did not go there willingly.'

Barney frowned. 'Even if she did, it's impossible to believe that she played the part that she is reported to have willingly. She must have been coerced.'

'I'm afraid I can't agree about that.' Verney tapped the photograph. 'Take another look at her. Far from appearing to be acting under coercion, she is all smiles. Ruddy says he was left alone with her for several minutes. If she had not been a willing agent, she would have found some way of tipping him off that her prophecy act was a fraud.'

'You forget, Sir, that, as they were photographed without Ruddy's knowledge, they were being watched the whole time. She must have known that and did not dare to alter the lines she had been given to say from fear of what they might do to her afterwards.'

'You've got the wrong angle on this, Sullivan. You don't seem to have yet caught up with the fact that we are talking not about Margot Mauriac but about Mary Morden, and the two are poles apart. The woman you have been seeing a lot of has presented herself to you as a nice respectable girl, fascinated by the occult to a degree that for the sake of a little excitement she was prepared to play with fire. Having taken a liking to her and believing yourself to know better than she did the risks she would be running, you have naturally done your utmost to prevent her from getting herself badly burned, and now you are afraid that she has landed herself right in the middle of the fire. But the real woman is the widow of Teddy Morden and, although warned by me, she went into this thing with her eyes open. By getting herself accepted into the Satanic circle she has done far better than I ever expected; and we must not hold it against her that she led poor Ruddy up the garden path. Obviously they picked her for the job because she is very good-looking, but the fact that they asked her to play prophetess shows that they trust her; and, since she did it so well, they will now trust her even further. There is no question whatever of her having been kidnapped or coerced. On the contrary, every move she made has been deliberate and, with a little luck now, she is going to step right out of the fire, bringing the chestnuts with her.'

'Maybe you are right about Saturday night,' Barney admitted, reluctantly, 'but that doesn't account for her continued absence from her flat. If she had meant to stay away several nights she would have taken a suitcase and some clothes.'

'Not necessarily. At that place in Cremorne I don't doubt they have all sorts of exotic raiments to dress themselves up in.'

'That does not explain her not having taken her toilet things,' Barney argued. 'No woman would go off to stay anywhere without her own tooth brush, scent, powder and that sort of thing. I'll bet every cent I've got that she intended to return home in the early hours of Sunday morning. But having got her there they wouldn't let her, and they are holding her there against her will.' C.B. shrugged. 'Then I think you would lose your money. If she is still there all the odds are that they asked her to stay on and she agreed to because she thought it would prove worth her while. But, say that you are right and that she is no longer a free agent, what do you expect me to do about it?'

'Why, have the place raided, of course. We have ample grounds on which to apply for a search warrant. Have the place raided and get her out.'

'Nothing doing, young feller.' Verney shook his head. 'There is still a chance that Lothar might return there, although I'm afraid now that is unlikely.'

'Does that mean that you have had news of him?' Barney asked quickly.

'Well, hardly news. Otto has been doing his utmost to get a line on him. He seems to be able to look down on him without much difficulty, but to locate him is a very different matter. All Otto is certain about is that Lothar is somewhere among high mountains that have snow on their tops. At times he actually goes up one of them to a great cave in its side. Otto says there is a cable railway up to the cave, and that he can feel it vibrating when Lothar goes up there. Of course, all this may be Otto's imagination playing him tricks, but if he is right it sounds as though Lothar was in Switzerland or Norway, or perhaps even the Caucasus. Anyhow, these visions give some grounds for supposing that he has left this country and, as he has got the fuel that he came for, there seems no reason why he should return.'

'Then why not raid the house at Cremorne tonight?' . 'Be your age, Sullivan. Lothar or no Lothar, to bag this nest of Satanists with Communist affiliations will be a fine feather in the cap of the department, and for having unearthed it most of the credit will go to you. But Thompson tells me that his men who have been keeping the place under observation report that hardly anyone goes in or out of it during the week. To raid it while it is nine-tenths empty would be a crazy thing to do. We must wait now until all these boys and girls have gathered there for their Saturday orgy; that's the time to pounce.'

'But, damn it all!' Barney protested 'Think what may happen to Margot - oh hell, Mary - in the meantime. She must have gone there in ordinary outdoor clothes. If she is a free agent there would be nothing to stop her leaving the place for an hour or two whenever she felt like it. Her flat in Cromwell Road can't be more than a mile away; so she would have walked to it at least once to collect some of her things. But she hasn't; therefore, they must be keeping her a prisoner.'

There may be some other explanation. Anyhow, just on the chance that you are right, I can't afford to lose the bulk of our bag by having the place raided before Saturday.'

'I am right. I know I'm right. And you must raid the place, C.B.' Barney argued desperately. 'This girl has put up a wonderful show. She has displayed magnificent courage; but now she is in the soup. You can't just leave her there. And some of these swine must live in the place. Just think what they may be doing to her.'

'If I am thinking of the same thing as you are, she'll come to no harm from it. She probably won't even mind very much.'

'What the hell d'you mean?'

C.B. sighed. 'I'm sorry to have to disillusion you but, to set your mind at rest, it is best that you should know the truth. Before her marriage, Mary Morden was a prostitute.'

Barney rose slowly to his feet. The blood had suffused his cheeks and his eyes had become unnaturally bright. Suddenly he blurted out, 'I don't believe it! You're lying! You're lying for some purpose of your own.'

'Sit down!' Verney's voice, for once, was sharp. 'I am not in the habit of lying to the members of my staff. Perhaps the word prostitute was a little strong; but I used it deliberately in order to bring you back to a truer sense of values. If I remember rightly, she said she was a cabaret girl. Anyhow, she told me herself that she had come up the hard way and had had to throw her morals overboard in order to earn a living. And that, within the meaning of the act, is prostitution. She told me this in reply to my telling her that the Satanist creed was the glorification of sex, and that she would not stand a dog's chance of getting anywhere with her investigation unless she was prepared to go to bed with at least one man, and probably more, whom she would have no reason whatever to like. She said that she had done that before and was ready to do it again, if that would give her a chance to nail her husband's murderers. So, you see, you have no need to harrow yourself with visions of her being held down and raped.'

For a long minute Barney remained silent, then he said: 'I suppose you are right. But what you've just told me came as a bit of a shock, and it is going to take me a little time to get used to the idea of her being so very different from what I thought her.' Then he stood up, and added, 'Well, I'd better be going, Sir, and get down to some work.'

'That's the spirit,' C.B. nodded. 'I shall be back on Friday night. Come in on Saturday at midday and I'll let you know about the final arrangements for the raid. I'll have you sworn as a temporary Special Constable so that you can take part in it.'

Thank you, Sir; but I'd rather not. From now on I'd prefer to stick to my major mission of narking on the Reds, and keep out of this other business.'

'I'm afraid that is not possible. You'll be needed to identify Ratnadatta, and to substantiate certain portions of the statement we shall take from Mary Morden. As far as she is concerned, I think you should look at it that she is doing no more and no less than what quite a number of other brave women did during the war - putting a good face on some rather unpleasant experiences as the price of outwitting the enemy, gaining his confidence and bringing home the goods. It is important, too, that we should endeavour to get hold of the negative and all the copies of that photograph of her and Ruddy; and, if they can be found, you would be the most suitable person to take charge of them at once; so I think you had better go in with the police.'

A ghost of Barney's old grin momentarily lit up his face. 'Yes, I can well imagine a bawdy-minded copper trying to slip one in his pocket if he got the chance. I'll do as you wish, then, and make getting hold of the photographs my special task.'

When Barney had left him, C.B. thoughtfully refilled his pipe. He felt far from happy at having given away Mary Morden's past, but he had seen no other means of dealing with the situation that had arisen. Personally he had no doubts at all that Mary had gone willingly to the house in Cremorne on Saturday night, and that she had remained there because she believed that doing so would give her the chance she had been seeking to win the confidence of the Satanists; therefore the only danger she was in was that she might give herself away, and that was no greater risk than she had run when making her earlier visits to the place.

But Barney, not knowing the true facts about Mary, had naturally viewed the situation very differently, and the acute anxiety he had displayed on her account had made it evident that he was in love with her. It was that which had shown C.B. the red light. Knowing that Barney was not only brave and resourceful but, under the skin, a wild Irishman, there had emerged the possibility that he might take the law into his own hands and attempt, unassisted, Mary's rescue.

Such an attempt Verney regarded as not only unnecessary but both liable to upset Mary's campaign and almost certainly doomed to failure; above all, the last thing he wanted was for the Satanists to be prematurely alarmed by a one-man raid, as that would mean losing the bulk of the bag. Therefore, the only way to make certain of preventing Barney from ruining the whole coup had been to tell him that, even if for the next few days Mary had to submit to being treated as though she was an inmate of a brothel, her early life had conditioned her to come through that mentally unharmed, and that she had actually expected that she might have to lend herself with apparent willingness to such treatment.

Barney meanwhile, having gone down in the lift, was walking, without thinking where he was going, along the street, desperately trying to reconcile his feelings for Margot with what he had just learnt about Mary.

During his long abortive watch for her in Cromwell Road the previous night, the belief that she was out dancing with some other man had brought home to him the fact that he really was in love with her; and, since his discovery that morning that she had been carried off by Ratnadatta, the thought of what she might be going through as a prisoner of the Satanists had made him aware that he loved her desperately. But now? Could one possibly love a girl who had been a prostitute?

To do so was against all a man's natural instincts. If one really loved a girl one wanted her for keeps. That meant marriage, and through the generations male mentality had been fashioned to demand that the future mother of a man's children should be chaste. Basically that was his own view, but he recognized that standards of morality had grown far more lax since women had claimed equal rights with men in almost every sphere of life and, like most men of his age, he would have been quite ready to ignore the past if, on asking a girl to marry him, she had confessed to having already had a lover, or even several, providing they had been genuine love affairs and she had not made herself cheap. But for a girl to sell her body for money to anyone who cared to buy it, to go to bed night after night with a succession of different men, most of whom she did not even know by name, was a totally different matter. The thought of Mary's having led such a life made him squirm, and he could not bring himself to believe that she had really ever done so.

There then came into his mind the first night that he had taken her to dinner at the Hungaria and how, in the taxi afterwards, when he had tried to kiss her, she had accused him of treating her like a tart. Her then seemingly unreasonable outburst was now explained, and with bitter cynicism he recalled the saying that there was 'no prude so great as a reformed whore'. Yet she had been far from prudish on that last evening when they had been up in her flat together and, as they lay embraced upon the sofa for a while, she had returned his caresses with a fervour equal to his own.

Even so, C.B.'s horrible revelation did provide the basis for the intense sympathy she had shown for girls whom men paid to make use of without a thought of what might happen to them afterwards should they get in the family way, and it now caused Barney to wonder if such a misfortune had ever befallen her. It was certainly a possibility and, if so, as from the secret report on Morden's death he knew that Teddy had been married for four years, she must have been very young at the time, anyway not more than nineteen.

Visualizing her at that age in such straits wrung his heart with pity, and he recalled C.B.'s remarking that she had 'come up the hard way'. In an intelligent woman, given a reasonable amount of money, present appearances were nothing to go by, and her natural alertness of mind would have enabled her to make the best of any education she had been given. But perhaps she had been brought up in a slum and driven on to the streets by a drunken father before she was old enough to stand up for herself.

But no, that did not fit in with her having been a cabaret girl, and C.B. had made it clear that she had been not actually a professional prostitute, but a glamour-girl who needed a bit of extra money. That implied that she had not exposed herself to such depths of degradation but, theoretically at least, was guilty of a greater degree of moral turpitude; and Barney could not make up his mind if that made matters better or worse.

As far as the present was concerned, he had to acknowledge the justice of C.B.'s defence of her. 'Coming up the hard way' implied that she had derived little enjoyment from her youthful promiscuity; so it was fair to assume that anything of a similar nature that she might have let herself in for with a crew of depraved Satanists would mean for her a highly disagreeable experience. Yet she did not stand to better herself from it in any way. She had gone into the ring prepared to face this punishment in a gallant fight against evil and for no other reason.

For that, who could blame her? He certainly had no right to do so. They had met on the 5th April, barely a month ago, and the affaire on which they had tentatively entered had not developed into anything worthy of the name until the previous week. There had not yet been a hint on either side that she might soon consent to become his mistress, much less that they should become engaged; so she was perfectly free to dispose of herself as she saw fit and he had not the faintest grounds for thinking of her as being unfaithful to him.

After blindly walking the streets for over an hour he pulled himself together and decided that he must get her out of his mind by throwing himself headlong into his routine work. On Saturday he must take part in the raid. He would see her then, and would have to do so on several occasions afterwards while the papers concerning the prosecutions arising out of the raid were prepared. At such times he would endeavour to mask the mixed emotions it was certain she would arouse in him by a display of cheerful friendliness; but he would excuse himself on the plea of urgent work from making any further private dates with her. Then as soon as the case was over, he would no longer have to see her at all, so the sooner he practised forgetting her, the better.

But he could not forget her. For the rest of that day, and on the Thursday and Friday, and for the best part of the nights in between, she was never out of his mind for more than a few moments. At times he thought of her as a cold, callous, young harlot, slipping out of bed to pick the pockets of half-drunken men who had fallen asleep beside her; at others, as the innocent victim of some hulking brute who bullied her unmercifully and lived upon her immoral earnings. In his waking dreams there were times when he saw her with the Satanists, her mouth dripping from spilled red wine and her eyes brilliant from the aphrodisiacs they would have given her, revelling with wanton delight in their debaucheries; at others, waging a losing battle to hide her disgust and terror as they forced her to join them in unmentionable obscenities.

And through it all he knew he loved her. More than anything in the world he now wanted to gaze into her deep blue eyes again, to hear her laugh, to watch her, carrying herself so erectly, as she walked with her firm springy step, to hear her voice with its faint familiar touch of Irish brogue, to hold her in his arms.

All this he could do, and more; providing only that she had not given herself away, so was still safe when the raid took place on Saturday. There was nothing to stop him resuming his affaire with her, and on an even better footing, as he would then be free to use Verney's name as a link between them. Explanations would follow, and there would no longer be any necessity for them to deceive one another. She liked him; judging from their last meeting, more than liked him. With her past there could be no question of her having moral scruples. He would only have to go all out for her to make her his mistress.

But what then? He knew in his bones that this was different from his other affaires; not just a delightful pastime that could be entered on lightly and dropped with equal casualness. She had got under his skin, into his blood, captured his mind. If once he lived with her he would want to be with her always. How long would she be content to go on like that? A time would inevitably come when he would either have to marry or lose her.

Well, why shouldn't he marry her? If Verney had said nothing of her past he might have done so; and, unless she had told him of it herself, the odds were that he would never have known anything about it. But the awful thing was that he did know. It was only on very rare occasions that the thought of his ancestors crossed his mind, but at this point in his tortured deliberations he saw them rising up out of their graves and screaming at him, 'You cannot! You cannot! You cannot make an ex-prostitute a Countess of Larne!'

At midday on Saturday, looking tired and ill, he reported at the office. Verney told him that he had seen Otto that morning, and the scientist was convinced that Lothar had now returned to England. For a moment Barney feared that might mean a postponement of the raid; but C.B. said he meant to go through with it for two reasons. If Lothar was in England it was quite on the cards that he would attend the Saturday orgy in Cremorne and, unless the place was raided, should he use a really clever disguise in going to, and coming away, from it the police might not spot him and so the chance of catching him would be lost. Secondly, even if they did not get him in the bag, by raiding the place they might secure papers which would inform them of other hideouts of his in England, in one of which he might be laid by the heels in the early hours of the morning.

Inspector Thompson arrived a few minutes later. All the arrangements for the raid were then completed and afterwards Barney, knowing that he would be up most of the night, returned to Warwick Square with the intention of making a light lunch and spending the afternoon dozing on his bed.

For half an hour he lay there, turning restlessly from side to side, once more a prey to the harassing speculations that had repeated themselves over and over again in his mind during the past three days. It then occurred to him that since early on Wednesday morning he had not been down to Cromwell Road; so there was just a possibility that Mary might have returned there. He knew it to be a forlorn hope but, to while away an hour or so of the time still to go before the raid, any action was better than lying there doing nothing. Slipping off the bed he put on his tie, coat, shoes and a light mackintosh and went out to find a taxi.

As usual during the day-time, the front door of the house in Cromwell Road was on the latch, so he walked straight in and upstairs. Using his little instrument he again picked the lock of the door to Mary's flat. The sight of his unopened letter still lying face upwards on the mat told him at once that she had not been back there. Closing the door behind him he spent some minutes in having another look round. The rooms were just as he had left them, except that the roses had used up nearly all their water and were now drooping.

The sight of them brought the thought to his mind that, if all went well, she should be back there that night. Knowing that for her the past week, at best, must have been one of intense strain from fear of being caught out and, at worst, one of physical inflictions coupled with mental anguish, he felt that she deserved something better to come home to than half-dead roses and stale food in her larder. To attend to the matter was the only decent thing to do; so he went downstairs in search of Mrs. Coggins.

He found her in her basement sitting-room, knitting a jumper while she watched T.V. When he appeared in the doorway she turned and gave him a peevish look, but made no move to switch off the blaring voice coming from the instrument. Above the din he shouted to her:

'Mrs. Mauriac is coming home tonight. She sent me the key of her flat and asked me to get a few stores in for her. Could you oblige me by lending me a shopping basket?'

Reluctantly Mrs. Coggins came to her feet and shouted back, 'I was wondering wot'd become of 'er. She's bin gone a week now and, after your talk on Wednesday of bringin' in the police, I was thinking I'd soon better go to them myself.'

'I was worrying unnecessarily,' Barney told her. 'Mrs. Mauriac met with an accident while out with some friends and they took her to their home. That's why she didn't return last Saturday night; and, as she has been in bed ever since, she didn't need to send for any of her clothes. Now, how about lending me something to shop with?�

Grumbling about not having 'bin let know', Mrs. Coggins produced a large string bag and with it Barney proceeded to the Earl's Court Road. At a delicatessen store he bought a cold chicken, bacon, eggs, cheese and various other items, then he collected bread, milk, butter and fruit, and ended his round at a florists, from which he emerged with an armful of flowers.

Returning to Mary's flat he threw away the food that had gone off, replaced it with his purchases, then arranged in both the sitting-room and bedroom the spring flowers he had bought. When he had finished, he made himself a cup of tea and, while he drank it, thought of the surprise and pleasure which his effort* would give Mary on her return.

That thought, however, gave rise to another which had not before occurred to him. She would know that it was he who had made these preparations for her home-coming, and that would be bound to confirm her belief that he was in love with her. He was; there was no doubt about that; but, if he meant to break the affair off, doing as he had was certainly not the way to set about it. He would have to see her home. He could not decently avoid doing so, and when she saw the flowers it was certain that she would kiss him for them He could make some excuse not to come in, but he knew that he would want to, if only to see her just once more in these surrounding where they had had those few happy hours together

Besides, he might have to come up. She might need help to climb all those stairs. If his worst fears were realized, shock, beatings and exhaustion had by now reduced her to a nervous wreck. Now he had made certain that she had not been back to her flat for a whole week, he felt more than ever convinced that C.B. was wrong in his contention that she had stayed on with the Satanists only because that would give her the chance to secure the evidence she was seeking. Had that been the case and she was still on friendly terms with them, what objection could they have had to her leaving the place for a few hours to collect the sort of personal belongings no woman likes to be without? The fact that she had not done so could only mean that they had demanded of her more than she was prepared to give willingly, so had resorted to force and then decided to keep her there until they had no more use for her.

At this already familiar mental picture of Mary naked, weeping, beaten and abused, he was once more possessed by a frenzy of distress and helpless anger; and to those feelings was now added a great surge of compassion. He knew that he must not only get her out of that hell and bring her back to her flat, but must comfort and cherish her until she had got over her ghastly experience and was really well again. Would he then be able to break with her? He didn't know. He doubted it. But the future must take care of itself.

The afternoon was now well advanced so, having relocked the door to the flat, he left the house, took the Underground from Earl's Court to Victoria and so made his way back to Warwick Square. There he freshened himself up with a bath and, not knowing when he would get another chance to eat anything, sat down in his dressing gown to a scratch meal of sardines, cake and a whisky and soda. Then he put on an old suit, slipped into his pocket a small automatic that he had a licence to carry, and went out to collect his car from its garage.

On reaching Cremorne he drove slowly round the streets adjacent to the old mansion until he found a place only a few hundred yards from it where, outside a small warehouse, he could park his car without causing an obstruction. Getting out, he strolled along to the 'World's End', at which he had a rendezvous with Inspector Thompson. Five minutes later the Inspector joined him in the saloon bar. They greeted one another as though casual acquaintances who had met by chance, asked after each other's wives, talked for awhile about the Derby, tossed up to decide which of them should pay for their drinks, then left together.

Unhurriedly they made a tour of the area. The entrance to the cul-de-sac was being kept under observation by plain-clothes pickets on the look out for Lothar, but as yet no other police had taken up their positions. From eight o'clock a number of plain-clothes men would enter the area independently, so that they could be summoned at once should the meeting for some reason break up unexpectedly early; but the bulk of the raiding force would arrive in vans only a few minutes before zero hour. The same vans would later be used to remove the prisoners. As far as was known the only exit from the mansion was by way of the cul-de-sac; but in case there were others through some of the small houses that backed on to the garden, all these were to be cordoned off.

Thompson suggested that Barney should accompany him when he led the way in at midnight, and Barney said he would like to. He then told the Inspector that he intended to waylay one of the Satanists on his way to the meeting and take him off to put some special questions to him. The picket keeping watch on the entrance to the cul-de-sac were informed of this, so that, if they saw a fight start, they should not intervene; then Barney took up a position not far from them, and Inspector Thompson left him.

For a long time now Barney had had an itch to give Ratnadatta a thorough beating up, and he had every reason to suppose that soon now he would be able to gratify it. In fact, his sole reason for coming down to Cremorne several hours before the raid was due to take place was to make sure of catching the Indian on his way to the meeting. It was still only just after eight o'clock and, from the watch kept on the place the previous Saturday, it was known that the majority of the Satanists did not arrive till about half past nine; but a few individuals, two couples and a car had entered the cul-de-sac at intervals, a good while earlier.

Much the same occurred on this occasion and, as darkness gradually closed down, from his point of vantage on the opposite side of the road Barney saw several people give a furtive look round then swiftly turn into the alley leading to the mansion. It was about ten minutes to nine when he caught sight of Ratnadatta coming along the street.

The paunchy Indian seemed to be walking jauntily with his head held cockily high, but as he passed under a light standard Barney saw that the angle of his chin was due to his wearing what appeared to be a stiff, high, white collar. When he was within ten yards of the entrance to the cul-de-sac, Barney crossed the road and followed him into it. Another half-dozen paces and they had been swallowed up in the darkness of the alley. Swiftly closing the gap, Barney tapped him on the shoulder and opened

little act he had thought up by saying, with a laugh, 'Caught you, Mr. Ratnadatta!'

The Indian halted, swung round and asked nervously; 'Who are you? What do you mean by that?�

'I'm Lord Larne,' said Barney in a friendly voice. 'You remember me. We met two or three times at Mrs. Wardeel's. I won't keep you a minute, but I want a word with you.'

'This ees not a good time. It ees not convenient.'

'It is for me.' Barney gave the guffaw of a fool. 'You might not think it, but I'm a bit of an amateur detective. Sorry to trouble you, and all that, but having traced you here I want to know

what goes on in the big house down at the end of this alley.'

'That ees not your business,' declared Ratnadatta angrily. 'You haf no right to ask. Leave me-----'

'No right at all,' Barney agreed cheerfully. 'But I'm itching with curiosity, so unless you tell, I'm going in with you.' He produced his pistol and showed it to Ratnadatta. 'See, I've got my rod, so no one's going to stop me. Stop me and buy one, eh?

Ha! Ha!'

The Indian took a quick step back, but Barney suddenly grabbed him by the arm, and went on, 'My car is just round the corner. Let's go and sit in it and have a quiet cigarette while you tell me. I won't keep you more than a few minutes. Come on.'

As Barney had hoped, Ratnadatta, supposing him to be no more than a nosey young idiot who, as a member of the privileged classes, perhaps enjoyed some degree of protection for such lawless frolics, decided that it would be better to humour him than to risk a scene on the doorstep of the mansion which would draw attention to it.

The avoidance of a scene had also been Barney's object in adopting his role of an inquisitive buffoon. While they walked along to his car, he could almost hear the Indian's brain ticking as it hastily endeavoured to formulate a plausible, non-criminal, but intriguingly mystic reason for the meeting he had been about to attend. But he was given no opportunity to produce it. No sooner were they both in the car than Barney, having achieved his object, switched on the ignition, let in the clutch and drove off.

'Hi!' exclaimed Ratnadatta. 'What do you do? Where are you taking me?�

'For a ride,' replied Barney. 'To a place where we can talk without interruption. We'll be there in less than ten minutes.'

'Stop!' cried the Indian. 'I do not wish to go! Plees, you let me get out.'

'No, sweetheart. Alive or dead, you are coming with me.' 'You are mad!'

'Yes, I am. With you. So you had better shut up. I showed you my gun. I'd welcome an excuse to put a bullet into your guts.'

Completely bewildered by this unforeseen encounter, and now extremely frightened, Ratnadatta, breathing heavily, fell silent. The car had already reached the embankment and was heading towards Battersea Bridge. They crossed it and ran swiftly through the streets on the south side of the river to Barnes Common. Driving across it along a track that led past the cemetery, Barney pulled up in a deserted spot and said tersely, 'Get out.'

'You are mad,' Ratnadatta said again as, quaking with fear, he eased himself out on to the grass. 'Plees, Lord Larne, I do you no harm. Why haf you bring me to this place?'

Barney jumped from the car and came quickly round its bonnet. Grabbing Ratnadatta by the lapel of his coat, he cried in a harsh voice that no longer had the least suggestion of the detective-crazy idiot in it: 'I've brought you here because I mean to beat hell out of you. I know all about your Satanic Temple and the way you act as a tout for it.'

'No! No!' Ratnadatta gasped. 'It ees not true! White Magic! We practise White Magic only. Also I invite only those peoples weech ask to come.'

'You filthy, lecherous, lying swine! You lured Mrs. Mauriac there a week ago. Don't dare to deny it. What did you do to her, eh?'

'Nothing! Not me! I take oath.'

'You're lying!' Barney raised his fist. 'Tell me the truth or I'll smash your ugly face in.'

'Plees! No! No!' wheezed the Indian. 'My neck. I have been struck great blow. It rick my neck. You strike again and it ees too much. Perhaps you kill me, then you hang.'

'So that's why you are wearing that bandage. But don't think a ricked neck is going to protect you from me. I know plenty of ways to make you squirm without killing you.' As Barney spoke he struck the Indian a sharp blow on the muscle of the upper arm with the hard edge of his palm.

Ratnadatta let out a yelp, and Barney went on, 'Now, you are going to tell me the truth or I'll pulp every muscle in your body. Mrs. Mauriac has been absent from her flat for a week. She left it with you, and you took her to that hell-dive where you hold your orgies. I want to know whereabouts in it you are keeping her. You are going to describe the inside of the place to me, so that when I get into it I can go straight to her.'

'She go with me there on Saturday. Yes, I admit. But she haf left it again same night.'

'Stop lying!' Barney struck him a second blow on the muscle.

'I tell no lie!' the Indian gulped. 'This ees truth! I swear so! I take oath! She ees taken away by another member off the Brotherhood.'

'Why? Who was he? Tell me his name!'

'He ees an American. A Colonel off their Air Force.'

'I don't believe you!'

'It ees true. Listen plees, listen.' Ratnadatta began to ring his lands and burst into a spate of words. 'I giff you good reason why I not lie. This ees same man who struck me great blow. For our days I am in hospital. Then I come out. I wish to put curse upon him for what he haf done to me. To do that I must find out about him. His real name and where he live. I make opportunity to get quick look at secret records. In list off visiting Brothers against name for magics Twisting Snake, I find name Colonel Henrik George Washington, United States Air Force, Fulgoham, Cambs. Post Office tell me Cambs. mean Cambridgeshire. Yesterday I go there and make much enquiries. It ees a big camp with many great aeroplanes, buildings, huts and all; but this Colonel does not live, there. He has private house not far off, near Six Miles Bottoms, weech is called the Cedars. I go there. It ees good size, pretty house, in little park. Now I haf seen I can make bad magic for him there. This is truth; all truth. A friend I am not man to betray; but for this Colonel I haf great hate.'

Barney had to admit to himself that the chapter and verse produced by the Indian in support of his story made it highly plausible. But, to test it further, he said: 'I'm not letting you go back to the Temple tonight and I have means of getting into it myself. If I go in and find that you have been holding Mrs. Mauriac as a prisoner there after all, I'll keep you locked in a cellar till you die of thirst, then throw your body in the river. Now you know what to expect if you have been lying; do you still stick to your story?�

'Yes, my Lord; I stick,' Ratnadatta replied without hesitation. 'In the Temple she ees not. She was there for two, three hours, no more; then the American haf taken her away.' 'To this house of his in Cambridgeshire?' 'Yes. It ees there that he live, and he had big car.' 'It doesn't follow that he took her down there.' 'No; but plees, it ees very best bet. At London hotel she ees perhaps not willing to stay with him. Perhaps she make ugly scene and lands him in bad trouble.' 'He took her away by force, then?�

After a moment's hesitation, Ratnadatta replied, 'On Saturday night it was arrange for her to become initiate. To one part of ceremony she make objection. The American haf eye for her all along. She see that and he ees big man, very big; so she ask him to take her home. That ees against rules off Brotherhood. There ees a fight and he carry her off. But he ees not what you call Knight Errant. He do this because he want her for himself.'

'So it was a case of rogues falling out?' A lump had risen in Barney's throat. It was all he could do to prevent himself from smashing his fist into the Satanist's face, as he went on, 'You quarrelled about who should have her, and the American got the best of it. Bejasus! I've a mind to kill you here and now.'

'No, my Lord, no!' the Indian whined, shrinking back. 'I only obey order off Master off our Lodge to prevent her being taken away. We should haf discuss matter more, agree to postponement off initiation; perhaps decide that she ees not suitable after all to become Sister off us. But she refuse to listen, she show great temper, then row starts. Perhaps too she thinks the American fine man, and would haf been willing to go with him anyway. That I do not know. But believe me plees, that he has her in his house in Cambs. was her fault. Yes, indeed, she bring that on own self.'

'You seem quite convinced that she is still there.'

Ratnadatta shrugged. 'How can I say? But you haf tell me that she has not returned to her flat. So all points that she ees still with him.'

After a moment's consideration Barney decided that the odds were all upon the Indian's being right. He was obviously lying in his own defence about the part he had played on the previous Saturday night but, if he had cooked up this story about the American Colonel with the object of sending his captor off to Cambridgeshire on a wild-goose chase, he would have said that the day before he had actually seen Mary at the house called the Cedars. In this case the very fact that he would not swear to her being there made his account more likely to be trustworthy. From the afternoon onward Barney had been thinking of little else than the moment when he could bring Mary safely back to her flat. If she was no longer at the house in Cremorne, as far as he was concerned the raid on it could only prove a bitter disappointment. To bank on Ratnadatta's having told the truth now seemed the better bet. Grabbing the trembling Indian by the arm, he said:

'All right; get back into the car.'

Ratnadatta, holding his head rigid, wriggled in and, as Barney slammed the door on his side, asked anxiously, 'Plees, my Lord; what do you mean to do with me?�

'You'll see,' came the terse reply; and no further word was spoken until, ten minutes later, they pulled up outside Fulham Police Station.

Ordering the Indian to get out, Barney marched him into the Station, produced his official pass, showed it to the Duty Sergeant and said: 'I am charging this man with kidnapping a Mrs. Margot Mauriac at or about six p.m. on Saturday last, 30th April.'

'It ees not true,' quavered Ratnadatta, his face now a dirty shade of grey. 'This man, he ees mad. He carries a pistol and haf threaten me with it.'

The Sergeant ignored him, and wrote out the charge. Looking the wretched Satanist full in the face, Barney went on, 'You may add, Sergeant, that the name Margot Mauriac was an alias for Mary Morden.'

Instantly Ratnadatta realized the terrible implication that lay behind that disclosure. His mouth dropped open, his eyes grew wide with horrified despair. Barney then administered the coup de grace.

'I hope that soon we shall be able to prefer a further charge against this man of participation in the murder of the lady's husband.' At that, Ratnadatta gave a loud groan, put a hand over his eyes and, his knees buckling, slid to the floor in a dead faint.

While two constables picked him up and carried him away to a cell, Barney completed the formalities. He then asked the Sergeant to telephone a message to Special Branch for immediate relay by wireless to Inspector Thompson. It was simply to the effect that he would not, after all, be participating in the raid, so the Inspector must take over the job of doing his utmost to secure the incriminating photographs.

Immediately he was back in his car he got out his maps and soon located Fulgoham as a village near the southern end of the county and about five miles east-south-east of Cambridge. It was barely fifty miles from the centre of London and only just over half an hour had elapsed since he had waylaid Ratnadatta in the cul-de-sac. He reckoned that if he stepped on it, he should get to Fulgoham well before eleven o'clock.

At this hour the roads, apart from those in west-central London, were fairly free of traffic, so he decided it would be quicker to go by way of Kensington and Cricklewood until he struck the North Circular Road beyond Golders Green. There he turned north-east and made good going along the broad by-pass till he reached the Great Cambridge Road which took him to within a few miles of his destination.

In Fulgoham village there were still a number of American Servicemen about, mostly with girls whom they had picked up in Cambridge and brought out for the evening on motor cycles or in small cars. After enquiring of several men for Colonel Washington's house, Barney found a Top Sergeant who was able to give him definite directions to it. The Cedars lay two miles further on along the road to Six Mile Bottom. It was on the right side of the road and a white-painted, five barred gate stood at the entrance of a drive leading to it.

Barney heaved a sigh of relief. The fact that Colonel Washington was known in Fulgoham and that he lived at the Cedars on the road to Six Mile Bottom was the first confirmation he had had that Ratnadatta had not been lying; at all events as far as the Colonel was concerned. It now remained to see if he was right in his belief that Mary had been taken to the house and was still there.

Fifty yards past the gate, Barney ran his car on to the grass verge, pulled up and got out. Fully aware that he was now about to enter on a desperate venture, he made certain that his pistol was in working order, then walked to the gate, opened it, slipped through and shut it softly behind him.

The drive was only about a hundred yards long, and there was sufficient moonlight for him to see the house at the end of it. Ratnadatta had thought it pretty, but it was in fact an Edwardian monstrosity of jumbled roofs and half-timbered stucco.

Stepping on to the grass beside the drive, and taking such cover as he could from groups of shrubs, he cautiously made his way forward. Chinks of light showed between the drawn curtains in some of the downstairs windows; so when he was within twenty yards of the house he began to skirt round it. At the back, from what he guessed to be the kitchen windows, chinks of light were also showing.

This indication that the inmates of the place were all still awake made him decide that he must postpone breaking in until later; but for hours past his mind had been obsessed with the thought of freeing Mary so, having made his way right round the house, he could not resist the temptation to creep up to a big bow window on the right of the front door, and see if he could get a glimpse of the room on the off-chance that she was in it.

The gravel crunched faintly under his feet as he tiptoed across the drive, but he felt confident that the sound would be drowned by that of a radio which came from the room towards which he was stealthily making his way. He reached the bay window and spent some minutes trying to get a view of the room, but all he could see through the chinks were strips of carpet and the legs of a chair. Greatly disappointed and still wondering if Mary was in the room, he backed away towards the front porch.

Suddenly a dark shape leapt from it. Footfalls grated harshly twice on the gravel behind him. His hand went to his automatic but, before he could swing round or draw it, he was struck on the back of the head. Stars and circles whirled before his eyes, his knees gave way and he fell to the ground unconscious.

CHAPTER XIX THE NIGHT OF HER LIFE

Mary's first conscious thought on waking on the previous Sunday morning had been that she was in a strange bed. The feel of the sheets, warm but slightly slippery, told her that. She opened her eyes and caught her breath. They were black satin. For a moment she gazed across them at the side of the room she was facing. In its centre there was a bay window with drawn curtains, but bright light filtering between them showed it to be broad day outside. An ornate dressing-table made of pale grey wood stood in the embrasure; its stool and two chairs which were also within her view matched it, showing that it formed part of an expensive modern suite.

Her heart began to beat more rapidly. Cautiously she turned over, feeling certain already of what she would see. There, on the pillow next to hers was a man's head. The hair on it was crew-cut and so fair as to be almost white. The face was turned towards her but inclined downwards, its lower part concealed by the top of the folded sheet. Under the hair-line there was a good forehead -broad rather than high-two thick, fair eyebrows and, between them, a great hooked nose. Her bedfellow was fast asleep and breathing so gently that she had to listen to catch the sound.

Chaotic memories of the previous night's events were now tumbling about in her mind: Abaddon, with his strangler's fit upon him, gripping her by the throat; Ratnadatta wearing her murdered husband's shoes; Pope Honorius forcing her to swallow the aphrodisiac; the middle-aged grey-haired man for whom she had been made to play the role of prophetess; Ratnadatta again, and her desperate struggle with him; her boundless relief when she found herself outside the temple in the cool night air, and believed that the American was going to take her home. But he hadn't. Instead he had suddenly decided to compound with his infernal master for not attending the Wal-purgis Eve Sabbat by performing some special sacrifice on his own. Then he had said that he would give her the night of her life. Well, in a sense, he had.

As he had headed the car back and turned north-west along the Fulham Road, she knew that after the act which she had so rashly just put on - of appearing disappointed that he meant only to run her home then return to the Temple-she could not possibly revoke on that and suddenly declare that she felt too tired for love-making. She knew instinctively too that, even if she had attempted to make him change his mind, now he had decided to take her down to the country nothing she could say would stop him.

There had remained only the possibility of catching her rescuer off his guard and making her escape. But of succeeding in that, her chances were far less good than they had been when she had thought of getting away from Ratnadatta earlier that evening. Then it had been daylight and she could have seen any policeman they were going to pass a hundred yards before they reached him; now it was dark. Then they had been in a taxi so, had she decided on desperate measures, she could have called on the driver for aid; now she was in a private car, alone with her captor. One thing only could favour an attempt by her to get away from him. That was the car's being held up by the lights at a main cross-road for some minutes. Even if she failed to get the door open and scramble out before he grabbed her and pulled her back, if she shouted for help while the car was still stationary, someone might have come to her assistance.

But at this hour there was little traffic and the American drove skilfully and fast. At both Knightsbridge and Hyde Park Corner the lights favoured him; without once having had to pull up they turned north and ran smoothly through the Park. At Marble Arch she had had her chance. If she had been her normal self she would have taken it; but the succession of crises she had been through that evening had left her still half dazed and mentally exhausted.

As the car slid to a standstill, he whisked out his cigarette case and a lighter. Holding them out to her he told her to help herself and light a cigarette for him. It was then that her mental reactions, having slowed down, betrayed her. Instead of ignoring him and making her bid for freedom, she automatically took the case and lighter. With both hands occupied she was rendered temporarily as helpless as if she had been handcuffed. For a moment she thought of throwing the things back at him or dropping them; but, before she could nerve herself to take the plunge, the traffic lights turned orange.

She lit a cigarette for him but did not take one for herself. While the car sped up the Edgware Road she lay back and shut her eyes. Tears welled from their corners as she upbraided herself for her lack of resolution. She knew by then that she was beaten; that she was no longer capable of making the violent effort necessary to give her even a chance of getting away. She tried to console herself with the thought that, in spite of all she had gone through that evening, she had been incredibly lucky. She had escaped being strangled by Abaddon, being raped by Ratnadatta, and being made a prize in a lottery for a number of other men after her initiation as a Sister of the Ram. Perhaps her luck would still hold and some unforeseen occurrence prevent the American from having his way with her. If not, he was, anyway, only one man and a fine, clean-limbed, fiercely handsome specimen of manhood at that. Mental fatigue dulled her concern about what might happen to her when they reached their destination, and she resigned herself to the belief that she had now become the plaything of Fate.

He, meanwhile, thought she had fallen asleep; so he refrained from talking to her. And, in fact, before they were clear of the suburbs of London, nature did take charge. Fears, hopes, memories, all became submerged under the urgent demand of her brain for rest and for the next hour she slept soundly, untroubled by even the suggestion of a dream.

When he woke her the car was stationary before the porch of a house. It had been raining and she smelt the fresh scent of the wet on grass and conifers. As she got out she glimpsed a stretch of lawn and a big cedar caught in the headlights of the car. He had already rung the bell. After a few minutes lights went on, there came the sound of bolts being drawn back, and the door was opened by a big negro in a dressing-gown. He murmured apologetically:

'I wern't expectin' you back, boss.'

'No matter, Jim,' his master replied. 'Rout out Iziah and tell him to take the car round to the garage. Then you can both get back to bed. We'll look after ourselves.'

In the lighted hall Mary had a chance to get a really good look at the man into whose power she had now fallen. Although she was a little above the average height for a woman, her head came up only to his shoulder. His face had a reddish tan, his eyes were black as sloes and, as he grinned down at her, he exposed a mouthful of strong, ivory-white teeth.

'Honey, your sleep's done you good,' he told her. 'You're looking fine now, just fine. All you need is an underdone steak and a carafe of red wine to make you feel like the Queen of Sheba. But you'll have to make do for tonight with what we can find in the Frigidaire. Come along now, this way to the cookhouse.'

He led her down a passage to a twenty-foot square kitchen, with a scullery and larder, both of ample size, beyond it. They were equipped with every modern device that could help to provide good food and easy service: a huge deep freeze, a giant fridge, a double-width automatically-controlled cooker, a double sink, dish-washer, mix and whip, and numerous other gadgets. Waving a ten-inch long hand round, her host said:

'This place was quaint before I moved in. All of thirty years out of date. But I soon fixed it. What are dollars for 'cept to make life different from dressing in a bearskin and living in a cave. I put things right in no time, and shipped over a team of housetrained coloured boys to look after me.'

Throwing open one door of the fridge he went on: 'Now, what'll you have: jellied eels, smoked salmon, cold fried fish Yiddish style, prawns in aspic, Russian salad, stuffed tomatoes? And in the larder there'll be a raft of other things: cold meat, onion pie, gherkins, pickled walnuts and lots else.'

They selected several dishes and put them on the kitchen table. He showed Mary where the plates and cutlery were kept, so that she could lay up two places, then took from the other side of the fridge a bottle of champagne and two of stout, by mixing which in a big jug he made up two quarts of Chancellor Bismarck's favourite tipple, usually known as Black Velvet.

Mary had had no dinner, so as soon as they sat down she suddenly felt hungry. He encouraged her to eat and drink, and himself ate with obvious enjoyment a supper that three normal-sized men would have found more than enough if shared between them. In less than half an hour, the jug that held the Black Velvet was empty.

Meanwhile, between great mouthfuls of food, and often while still chewing noisily, he talked and laughed, as gaily as a schoolboy at an end-of-term dormitory feast. There was nothing about him to remind Mary that he was a Satanist. Temporarily she entirely forgot that and, infected by his enormous zest for life, found herself talking and laughing with him.

When they had finished eating, she instinctively suggested that they should wash up; but he roared with laughter and said, 'My! so you're a good squaw too! Guess you've got everything. But you don't have to bother, honey. No ma'm, not in my menage. What do I hire my team of boys for?'

Stooping suddenly he threw a great arm round her, low down under her behind, and pitched her, as though she had weighed no more than a child, over his right shoulder. With his left hand he switched off and on the several lights as he carried her upstairs, singing cheerfully meanwhile a couple of verses of that favourite American bawdy song, 'Frankie and Johnny were lovers'.

When he had set her down in the bedroom with the olive-wood furniture, she had made no attempt to get away. Such an attempt would, in any case, have been utterly futile; but her sound sleep on the run down from London had had the effect of forming a psychological barrier in her mind between all that had happened earlier that night and the present. She no longer felt any fear, the good food and Black Velvet had recruited her strength, and either the potency of the latter or the delayed effects of the aphrodisiacs she had been given earlier expunged from her mind the awareness that the wickedly handsome man who towered above her was a Satanist and, perhaps, a murderer.

Twelve hours later, as she lay in the big bed, now completely sober and again the prey of anxious speculation about her future, she thought of that; but she had to admit that she could not plead as an excuse to herself that she had been raped. That he would have raped her had she resisted she had no doubt at all; but she had not resisted. On the contrary, at his first kiss she had suddenly let herself go and, apart from intervals when he had twice gone downstairs to fetch up champagne and a cold duck that they had eaten in their fingers, she had spent half the night meeting his seemingly insatiable passion.

She felt now that she ought to be ashamed of herself. Not for having enjoyed, after several months' abstinence, having again slept with a man, but because he was the sort of man he was. Although she had been prepared to submit, if need be, to the embrace of some Satanist during an initiation ceremony, she had expected that to be swiftly over. That, too, could have been excused as necessary to the furtherance of her plan to ferret out the secrets of the Brotherhood. But the way she had spent the night had brought her no nearer to doing that than she had been the previous evening.

At that moment her companion woke, gave her a slow smile, then suddenly thrust a huge arm beneath her and pulled her towards him.

'No!' she gasped. 'No! Please! I'm feeling awful. Please let me sleep a little longer.'

Her protest was useless. He only laughed and cried, 'Lots of time for sleep later, honey. It's Sunday. We'll stay put here all day.'

She tried to thrust him off but, as his black eyes bored down into her blue ones, her will became as weak as water. With a sigh of mingled self-reproach and resignation, she let herself respond to his kiss.

When he released her he lit a cigarette, took a few puffs at it, then jumped out of bed. Striding to the door he threw it open and, a bronzed olympian figure, marched out on to the landing. From it he bellowed, 'Jim! Buster! Breakfast! And make it plenty. I could eat a horse. Get moving!'

The sounds of running feet and cheerful cries came from below in response. Swinging back into the room, he slammed the door behind him, pointed to another and said: 'Go help yourself to a wash if you want, honey. Them coons know I don't stand for being kept waiting. The chow'll be here soon as the stove can fry the eggs.'

Eggs he had said and eggs he meant. Eight of them, flanked by a plentiful supply of bacon and sausages, arrived still sizzling on a big hot-dish. Beside it, on the travelling table that had been wheeled in while she was in the bathroom, were a great aluminium drum of steaming coffee, a jug of cream, toast, marmalade, butter and fruit. The sight and smell of them suddenly made her feel ravenously hungry; so she did justice to the ample helpings he gave her while he demolished the greater part of what remained.

She had already noticed that facing the end of the bed there was an outsized television set. When they had finished eating he pushed the wheeled tray out on to the landing and turned on the set. They were just in time for the one o'clock news. Nothing of startling importance had occurred so the alarms and excursions reported were mainly developments of matters that had already occupied headlines. As Mary listened to further particulars of an air-liner disaster that had happened the day before, she could hardly believe that she was not dreaming.

To her, yesterday seemed weeks ago; yet it was barely twenty-four hours since she had received Barney's roses and been so furious with him for letting her down. She wondered what he would say if he could see her now, and felt certain that the sight of her, propped up against the pillows with the arm of her big companion cast casually round her shoulders, would send him into a frenzy of jealous rage. So she wished that he could see her. It would serve 'his lordship' right for having gambled on her liking him enough to accept any excuse he might cook up as cover for his having gone off for the week-end with some other woman - as she was fully convinced he had.

For a few minutes she tried to guess what the other woman was like but, having not a vestige of information to go on, she soon realized the absurdity of attempting to do so. Mentally shrugging it off, she thought with sudden vicious satisfaction, 'Anyway, whatever her colouring and vital statistics, I bet she hasn't as much physical attraction as this super-man who has got hold of me'.

Next moment she was appalled at her own thought. The man beside her was a criminal. As a professed Satanist he must have committed all sorts of abominations and evil deeds. He had even implied, while surveying her and about to rescue her from Ratnadatta, that he was a white-slaver. She was, at the moment, in the position of a white-slave to him. To have mentally admitted that she had allowed herself to be attracted to such a man now seemed a terrible degradation. It was the sort of sin against the higher nature which could be wiped out only by taking the veil. She began to wonder miserably if she would ever again be able to look a decent man in the face.

But the giant on whose shoulder her head was resting was anything but miserable. With the breakfast, on the lower shelf of the wheeled table, the Sunday papers had been brought up. He had switched off the T.V. and was reading them. Now and then he read extracts aloud to her with either humorous or salacious comment. Presently he came to an article on the British Government's attitude towards Communist China and began to sneer at the British as a dirty lot of double-crossers who would have gone down the drain long ago had it not been for the innocent belief of the Americans that there was something like old brandy about them in that, however much they might cost, they paid for keeping.

Mary, being full-blooded Irish, shared the political schizophrenia which is characteristic of a great part of that people. She had been brought up to believe that the British were the root of all evil but that the Empire as a whole, to the building of which the Irish had made such a great contribution, was a thing that, if need be, one should lay down one's life for; and woe betide any foreigner who had the impudence to belittle either its past achievements or present power to find the best answer to difficult situations which were constantly arising all over the world.

She knew little about international politics but enough to tell him that, if Churchill had had his way, and Roosevelt not been a gullible fool, Stalin would never have been allowed to get his claws on Central Europe; so the massacre of the Hungarians and the enslavement of millions of Czechs, Poles and Rumanians lay at America's door. And that if only their sanctimonious moron, Dulles, had not prevented the British from putting in a 'stitch in time' at Suez, hundreds of honest, intelligent Arabs would not since have been murdered and the whole of the Middle East fallen under Soviet influence.

Amazed and intrigued by her vehemence he entered into a man to man argument with her and, although she spoke more from instinct than from knowledge, he found it impossible to reason soundly against her reiterated assertion that the 'proof of the pudding was in the eating' and that he had only to look at the shrinkage of the territories free from Communist domination, since the United States had assumed world leadership, to realize what a mess his countrymen had made of things. On the other hand, she could not honestly deny his charge that, when Britain had had the leadership of affairs between the wars, she had done little better, and that her refusal to back the French, when they wanted forcibly to resist the re-entry of the Germans into the Rhineland, had been the key error from which had sprung Hitler's confidence that he could tear up Treaties with impunity, and so led to the Second World War.

This acrimonious discussion occupied them until three o'clock then, by mutual consent, they broke it off and, turning over, went to sleep again. Soon after five they roused up and went into the bathroom. He had a shower while she had a bath and when she had finished, instead of getting back into bed, she began to put her clothes on. Suddenly realizing what she was doing, he exclaimed: 'Hi, what's the big idea?'

Endeavouring to make her voice sound indifferent, she replied:

'You said last night that today you meant to take me back to the Temple, and there's not much of the day left; so I thought we would be starting soon now.'

Actually the last thing she wanted was ever to enter the Temple again, but knowing that the Sabbats took place only on Saturdays she was hoping to persuade him that there was no point in his delivering her there so, instead, he should drop her at her own flat; or, if that failed, once they were back in London she would find a better chance than she had the night before to get free of him.

'You sound as though you want to go back,' he flung at her with a frown.

'No,' she lied hastily. 'Of course not. But I thought you had made yourself liable to some sort of penalty for having carried me off, and that the longer you kept me the heavier it would be.'

His frown deepened into a scowl. 'Yeah. I'll have to pay a forfeit; but not for having snatched you. The Great Ram is quite a buddy of mine, so I can square that one with him. It's cutting the Walpurgis Eve party that's put me in the red.'

'If you hadn't been so impatient. . .' she began.

'I know. I know. Sure, I could have parked you at your flat and picked you up this morning. But patience isn't in my make-up. If it had been I'd not have got halfway up to where I am now.'

She shrugged. 'Well, you've had what you wanted as far as I'm concerned. I hope it's been worth it.'

'And how!' His scowl gave place to a sudden grin. 'Sure; sure. But mighty few of the best-looking dolls have anything inside their heads. And you've got everything, honey. I'm a man who likes to get fresh angles on things, and if the angles come from someone who's got the right kind of curves as well, what more could a guy want? I want to see a lot more of you yet; so how about staying on here with me for a while?�

At that her hopes of being through with him in a few hours' time sank to zero. But she dared not show it. Although his latest idea had been couched in the form of an invitation, she knew that he would not allow her to refuse it, and that her only chance of getting away now lay in not letting him suspect that she wanted to. It meant that she would have to spend at least one more night with him, but it seemed certain that tomorrow he would have to leave the house to attend to his duties, which would then give her a good chance to escape. Summoning up a smile, she said:

'Yes, I'd love to do that. I'm sure we'll find lots to talk about.'

'Fine oh!' He gave her a resounding slap on the bottom. 'Would you like to eat up here or downstairs?'

'Let's go downstairs, and you can show me the rest of the house.'

Half an hour later he was mixing Vodka Martinis for them in a sitting-room below the big bedroom. Like the other rooms it had been furnished expensively, but without taste. In the bay window stood another big television set, a separate radio and a walnut gramophone cabinet for long-playing records. As he handed her a drink she said:

'You know, I don't even know your name!'

'Among the blessed of our Lord Satan, I'm known as "Twisting Snake",' he replied with a grin. 'But in these parts it's Colonel Henrik G. Washington of the U.S.A.A.F.; though, among themselves, my boys call me "that big bastard Wash".'

She could not help laughing and, lifting her glass, said: 'Well, I much prefer that to Twisting Snake; so here's to you Wash!'

He sunk his first cocktail at a gulp. 'That's to your blue eyes, Circe. I recall that's the name you took as a neophyte. But what'll I tell Jim and the others to call you while you're my house-guest here?'

'Mrs. Mauriac; Margot Mauriac. Tell me, why did you choose such an ugly Satanic name as Twisting Snake?'

'The original was an ancestor of mine. Maybe you've guessed that I've got Red Indian blood, and that old medicine-man was the greatest ever wizard of the Five Nations!'

Mary nodded. 'Yes, I can imagine you looking magnificent in a feathered head-dress and all the trimmings. Where did your very fair hair come from, though?'

'I'm a thorough-bred half-caste,' he told her, 'born in an Indian reservation of a squaw. My father was some kind of a crook. Leastways, he was hiding up in the forest when my Ma came on him. She was only about fifteen, but that didn't worry him any. I was the result. I guess she fell for him though, as she took food to him in secret for around a month, and insisted on calling me Henrik, which was the only name she knew him by. One day he took a runout powder on her and was never seen again. He must have been some sort of Nordic, and he'd talked to her of a big island where he'd been a fisherman before he hit the States, so maybe he was an Icelander; but that I'll never know for certain.'

'It's a big achievement for a little boy, brought up as you must have been in an Indian reservation, to have become a Colonel in the United States Air Force.'

'Yeah. It weren't easy; but I made it. I owe that mainly to my Granddaddy. He was the medicine-man of the tribe. I'll bet he beat hell out of my Ma when he knew the games she had been up to in the forest; because, of course, no brave would take her as his squaw after she'd had a child that way, and she must have been worth quite a few head of cattle to him. But he brought me up. Taught me all he knew, and by the time I was fourteen I was a better medicine-man than he was.

'Nominally all the red folks are Christians these days; but that's only lip-service to gip free blankets and baccy out of the padres. They know what's best for them and still practise the old religion on the side - totem rites, palavas at the full of the moon, and the rest. My Granddaddy could kill or cure plenty and he wanted me to follow him as Our Lord Satan's top priest in the reservation. But he was old and ailing so he had to give me the red feather of initiation much earlier than he would else have done. I earnt it though. Makes me sweat now to recall some of the ordeals I went through. All the same, I took to making magic like a heron takes to diving for the fish.'

As he paused, Mary asked: 'And did you succeed your grandfather?'

'Not me. Leastways, only for a few weeks. Taking dimes off our poor folk for curing cattle, or causing some old joker to turn up his toes a bit sooner than nature meant him to, was too narrow an alley for me to be happy playing ball in for long. One night I lit out with a travelling circus, and I never went back.'

'At sixteen I was already as big as most men ever come, and still growing. Add to that I met few people I couldn't hypnotize into doing what I wanted. I'd brought Granddaddy�s ceremonial feathers with me and I made the circus boss let me put on an act of my own. It was lassooing, bow and arrow, and throwing the tomahawk. I got a programme girl to stand in for me to shoot and throw round. Poor kid, she was so scared she near died of fright every time before we went on. She needn't have feared. Once she had her back to the target I could hold her there with my eyes, as rigid as an iron bar, and long as she didn't move she was in no danger. But she hadn't enough of what it takes to keep me for long with her under a blanket. I decided to team up with the Gipsy Lee of the outfit and move into her caravan. She was near twice my age but she had "it" all right, all right. Trouble was she had a husband. Sid was his name. So I carved a little wooden doll and scratched Sid on it. Then I talked magic talk to it all night long and took it out in the morning and buried it. Within a week Sid caught a cold and started coughing. That was before the days of penicillin. In a fortnight pneumonia had taken him, and I was in the caravan teaching his woman the quick way to forget him.'

At the mention of the doll, Mary had guessed what was coming, so she had time to glance away and repress a shudder at this confession of cold-blooded murder. Now happily launched on his life-story, the hook-nosed giant went on.

'Come the fall, the circus went into its winter quarters at Detroit. Gipsy, as was her custom, took a room for telling fortunes. She was mighty good at it. Could have done far better for herself that way all year round, but she had real gipsy blood in her and preferred a roving life. What I knew of magic put me wise to it that she was pulling in power from some source outside herself. One night I got out of her the how and why. She was an initiate of a Satanic Lodge there in the city. I made her take me along. That's how I became a Brother of the Ram.'

He poured Mary another cocktail, and resumed. 'It was by way of a guy I happened on in that Lodge that I got my first real break. He ran a big brothel. Seeing I was strong as a young bull, he asked me if I'd like to take a hand breaking in new girls. Most of those that get to the houses know what to expect; but there's some that don't, and make trouble. They have to have their heels rounded off, and it's strong men's work to do that. After I'd been at this dame busting game for a while it hit me that I was a sucker to do it for another guy when I might be doing it for myself.'

'Gipsy was making enough to keep me, but I felt it would be good to have some extra dough to throw around; and setting up as a knife-thrower in a booth wouldn't have paid the sort of dividends I had in mind. Within three months I had a string of five girls working the streets for me. From then on I never looked back. I made Gipsy cut out the fortune-telling and set her up as the Madame in a place of our own. By the time I was nineteen

I'd gone into the export business, and was shipping as many as eight judys a month down to S.A. The Feds were always after us, of course, but Gipsy had only to look at a girl to judge if she was too hot to handle, and as a seer myself I always got wise to it in advance if danger threatened our organization. Time war broke out I had tie-ups with all the big operators in the States and was one of the biggest shots in the racket.'

Revolting as his disclosures were, Mary had to simulate interest, so she said: 'No wonder you have lots of money. But this doesn't explain how you became a Colonel in the United States Air Force.'

'It was the yen to fly, honey,' he smiled, 'and ambition. From the time I was a kid in the reservation, I'd thought nothing could thrill like being a bird-man. The war was my chance. I'd a partner who's half Puerto-Rican and half Jew. I told him to carry on and he knows that if he bilked me for ten cents I'd have him die in a fit. I flew out to California where no one knew me, and joined up. As a pilot I proved a natural, as I knew I would. Soon as they let me go into battle I became an ace overnight. They gave me a commission and decorations. Maybe you noticed them on my tunic. Everything from the Purple Heart to the Legion of Merit -the whole works.'

'And that decided you to stay in after the war?' 'That, and ambition. The old set-up is still working. Must be hundreds of judys back in the States earning me a dollar or two every night; but dollars isn't everything. I wanted to go places and meet people as a guy who is somebody apart from what he can spend. As Colonel Henrik G. Washington, I am that.'

He then told her of some of his experiences during the war, and of how he had at times used his occult powers to restore the morale of other pilots who, after many missions, had nearly reached breaking point; and also that he devoted a percentage of his income to helping the widows of ex-comrades who had been killed while serving with him. He mentioned this last matter as casually as he had spoken of breaking down the resistance of unfortunate girls who had been trapped into brothels, and Mary found it quite beyond her to reconcile such opposite traits in one personality.

The negro Jim, dressed in a spotless white housecoat, duly announced dinner and waited on them while they ate an excellent meal. Afterwards 'Wash' entertained Mary for two hours with long-playing records, mostly pieces by serious composers of whom she had never heard, and it was obvious to her that he knew very much more about music than she did. They then went up to bed.

On the Monday morning they were called at six and by half past seven Wash, now again a truly martial figure, was ready to be driven to his office. He had told Mary that there was no point in her getting up until she felt like it; so she had drifted off to sleep again. But before leaving he shook her into wakefulness and said:

'Look, honey; make yourself at home in the house, but don't go outside it. My General's not a bad scout about giving leave to London or Paris, so his officers can blow steam off, but he's a stickler for them setting a good example while in the area; so I don't want it to get around that I've got a dame here as a house-guest.'

As soon as he had gone she set about planning her escape. It looked as if he had no suspicion that she might wish to, but of that she could not be certain, and it was possible that he had told his coloured boys to keep an eye on her. Anyway, they might think it strange and stop her, or telephone to him, if she got up at once and walked out of the house. Anxious as she was to get away, she decided that her chances would be better if she remained there during the morning while the boys were doing their routine jobs, then try to slip away unseen early in the afternoon as soon as they had settled down for their easy.

At eleven o'clock she got up, and when she was dressed went downstairs to the sitting-room, where she put on a record. It had been playing for only a few minutes when Jim appeared accompanied by an older, fatter negro, in a white apron and chef's cap, who introduced himself as Buster. Both gave her friendly grins; the one asked her what she would like to drink and the other what she would have for lunch. Having asked for their suggestions, she made her choice and they left her to go about their work.

At the unexpectedly early hour of half past twelve, Jim came in to tell her that lunch was ready. She remembered then that Americans both started and finished their day's work earlier than the British; so Wash might be expected back in mid-afternoon. A little nervous now that she might be leaving herself too narrow a margin to get clear away, she got through the meal quickly, then went back to the sitting-room and, leaving its door ajar, waited there listening impatiently until all sound of movement should have ceased.

By half past one, the house had fallen completely silent. Tiptoeing across the hall, she let herself out of the front door. As she walked down the drive, she did not dare to look back for fear that one of the boys was watching her from a window. He might take such a gesture as an indication that by going out she was disobeying his master's orders. Every moment she expected to hear the sound of running footsteps coming after her but only her own crunched faintly on the gravel.

When she reached the road, she glanced quickly from side to side. In the distance to her left there were low hills and below them, about two miles away, the roofs of some big aircraft hangars. To her right there was flatter country and the road ran along one side of a long shallow valley into which three aircraft were gliding. The hangars obviously formed part of the U.S. Air Force base, so turning her back on them she set off at a swift pace in the opposite direction.

She still had her handbag and in it ample money to get to London; but as soon as she came to a village she meant to telephone to Colonel Verney. There was no reason whatever to suppose that during the past forty-eight hours Ratnadatta had disposed of those incriminating shoes, and if he could be caught with them still in his possession she would have won her fight against at least one of Teddy's murderers. She would tell the Colonel too about the house in Cremorne, so that he might rope in the whole Satanic crew and, perhaps, find evidence there against others of them. But what about Wash?

The thought of the genial but evil giant presented her with an unexpected problem. Her sense of justice compelled her to admit that she had no personal cause for complaint against him. He had not taken her by force. Even his carrying her off from London had been largely due to her own folly in overplaying her hand with him. He obviously believed that she had been perfectly willing to stay with him and was thoroughly enjoying herself. More, he had both rescued her from Ratnadatta and saved her from initiation.

To that it had to be added that he was not a Satanist in the same sense as the others. He had not thrown off the tenets of a decent upbringing and all moral scruples to join a Lodge in order to acquire wealth or satiate his lust in wild orgies. He had been brought up from his childhood to worship the Devil, to practise magic and follow a creed, the only dictum of which was, 'Do what thou wilt shall be the Whole of the Law.' It was evident that he had never regarded the world as anything but a jungle in which the strongest and most determined were fully justified in living well at the expense of weaker animals. That his mind had developed from infancy completely lacking all moral sense must be taken at least as some mitigation of his having shown no trace of scruple in bull-dozing his way to affluence by criminal means.

But what a calendar of crimes lay at his door. Murder, rape, and the unlimited terrorization of innumerable people. His house, his coloured servants, the deluxe equipment of his kitchen, his gramophone records and champagne, were all still being paid for from the earnings of scores of unhappy women in the United States, and the shipping of scores of others, still more greatly to be pitied, to a living hell in the brothels of South America. As Mary thought of the misery she had suffered herself during her black year in Dublin, her blood boiled, and she knew that she must not even consider giving such a man an hour's warning, but do her utmost to ensure that, like the others, he was arrested with the least possible delay.

While these thoughts had been agitating her mind she had walked nearly two miles, but there was still no sign of a village. Another half mile of open road lay before her with hedges and fields on either side, except in one place a few hundred yards distant where, among a few fruit trees, she could see a cottage.

Suddenly she heard the blare of a klaxon horn in her rear. Looking back, she saw a large car hurtling towards her at seventy miles an hour. Another minute and, as she jumped to the side of the road, she caught a glimpse of the driver. He was the hooknosed giant that, two minutes before, she had been planning to have arrested. With a screech of tyres suddenly braked, the car pulled up fifty feet beyond her.

CHAPTER XX WANTED! A HUMAN VICTIM FOR SACRIFICE

Mary had a moment only in which to make up her mind. Two courses were open to her. She could jump the ditch, scramble through the hedge and run for it across the fields, or stay where she was and accept capture. To do the former was to proclaim that she had deliberately set out to escape, whereas if she did not take to her heels she might still bluff it out.

Had he pulled up behind her she might have reached the cottage before he could catch her, but to do so from where she stood she would have to pass him. She could still get to it by making a detour through the hedge and round to its back, by way of the field, but, if she did succeed in outrunning him to it, there might not be anyone there to whom she could appeal for help. Realizing the small start she would have and the huge stride that his long legs would give him, with bitter reluctance she decided to stay where she was.

In a succession of violent swerves he backed the car until it came level with her, then demanded: 'Where in heck d'you think you're going?'

'To the village,' she replied, concealing her anger and disappointment with a nervous smile.

'For why?' His black eyes were glittering and his voice terse.

Defensively she retorted, 'What do you think? To buy a few things, of course. It's all very well for you; you've everything you want in the house. But I haven't even a toothbrush of my own, or make-up things; except for the powder compact and lipstick in my bag. If I'm to stay with you I don't mean to be reduced to looking like a drab.'

'You've gotta tongue. You should have used it, and I'd have had them gotten for you. I said you were to stay put, didn't I?�

'You've no need to worry. I specially chose the quietest hour of the day when no one was about. Except for two labourers in a field I haven't seen a soul.'

'You would have, if you'd made the village. A quarter of an hour back I had a hunch you'd quit the maison; so I did a quick overlook and saw you beating it along the road. Get in.'

There was no alternative; so she got in and in stony silence he drove her back to the house. Following her in he waved a great hand towards the stairs and said: 'Get on up to the Schlafzimmer.'

Now pale with apprehension as she wondered what he meant to do with her, she went up to the bedroom. Two minutes later he joined her there carrying a largish square box covered with imitation leather. Setting it down on a chair he scowled at her and snapped, 'Get your clothes off.'

With mounting terror she obeyed; then, trembling a little as she stood in front of him, she began to stutter further excuses.

Ignoring them he suddenly shot out a hand. At the level of his own shoulder his outspread fingers ploughed through her hair. Suddenly they closed, so that the hair they grasped became a thick fistful. With a violent gesture he flung her sideways. She staggered and would have fallen but he wrenched her back. At the tug on her hair she let out a scream of pain. Grabbing at his wrist she strove to free herself but his grip was fast. Still holding her by the hair he flung her first to one side then the other, let her fall to her knees then jerked her upright, let her fall again then dragged her screaming half across the room and back.

Releasing her and stepping away, he said: 'Treatment number one for judys who disobey orders in the red-light dives. Way up on beatings. Doesn't mark 'em and spoil their appearance for the customers. There's treatments two and three. Best not go walking again, honey. Get into bed and stay there. I'll be seeing you.'

As he turned on his heel and left her, she collapsed on the bed. The hair on her forehead was wet with sweat and the top of her head one terrible ache where for several moments her scalp had had to take the weight of her whole body. After a while, still sobbing, she crept between the sheets and lay there in abject* misery for what seemed an endless time.

Actually it was about two hours, then the door opened and he came in again. Putting down a big parcel he had with him, he leant over her and said abruptly, 'Sit up.'

'You brute!' she flared, cowering further away from him under the bedclothes.

'Sit up,' he repeated. 'I'll not hurt you this time.'

Doubting him, but not daring to refuse, she levered herself up into a sitting position. Her head was still aching intolerably where the hair had been almost torn from it, but when she instinctively put up her hands to defend herself, he took them both and pushed them down to her sides.

'Not a move, now,' he ordered. Then, while muttering some gibberish under his breath, with the index ringer of his left hand he made the sign of the reversed swastika on the top of her head. As though by magic - and, indeed, it was by magic - the pain eased then faded away completely.

'Thanks,' she sighed, her eyes wide with wonder. 'Oh. thank you! But why did you have to be so brutal?�

'Teach you not to try to run out on me.'

'I wasn't,' she lied.

'Can that! I know you were. I picked it up from your vibrations. What's been eating you? You get plenty kick out of being my squaw, don't you?'

Knowing she must humour him, she raised a smile. 'Yes, of course, lots. You are a wonderful lover.'

'Then why the yen to quit?�

Swiftly she searched her mind for some reason that would sound plausible, yet not offend or make him angry. After a moment inspiration came to her, and she hedged. 'I didn�t want to really. It was not until I was walking along the road that the idea suddenly came into my head. You see, I'd been looking forward tremendously to my initiation and on Saturday night, but for you, I'd have been made a Sister of the Ram. Don't think I'm not grateful to you for having saved me from that beast Ratnadatta. I am. But I do want to be initiated and I can't be until I'm back in London. I felt sure you wouldn't be willing to let me go; so I was toying with the idea of going while I had the chance. That was the thought wave of mine that you must have picked up.'

'Well, now,' he smiled, 'so that's how it was. Why in heck didn't you say so then, instead of giving me all that gup about wanting to buy beauty-parlour goods?�

'But I did want to. That's all I started out to do.'

Turning away, he picked up the parcel, threw it on the bed and said: 'Take a look at that lot. Dames I've had here as house-guests before have known they were coming and brought their own muck. I oughta have realized you were shy of all the aids.'

Evidently he must have gone into Cambridge as the parcel contained a variety of the most expensive creams, lotions, powders, shampoos and scents, which could never have come from a village shop. As she thanked him for this generous present he said: 'I don't go for nightwear, either for myself or dames, but you'll want undies, nylons, mules and frocks. Just jot down the old vital statistics for me tomorrow and you can have all you wish.'

She thanked him again and while she was still examining the packets and bottles he went on thoughtfully, "Bout your initiation. You don't have to go to London for that. I run a Lodge for some of my airforce boys down here. It's only if happen I'm in London on leave, or for top ceremonies, that I check in with old Abaddon's crowd. Most Saturdays I do High Priest for my own set-up. And I've this forfeit on my neck. That entails a sacrifice. Seeing you're so set on losing no time in becoming a Sister, I guess I'll make my blood offering come Saturday and initiate you myself.'

Her heart sank at his words, and sank still further as he added in a slightly reluctant tone, 'It'll mean loaning you for a while to some of my boys, but there's no avoiding that. Still, wouldn't be right for me to stand in your way of becoming a full-blown witch. I'll get a pay-off afterwards, thought You'll be qualified to act as my assistant in some private magics I've a mind to undertake. Two members of the cult always get better results than one.'

Avoiding his eyes she continued to ringer the bottles, miserably conscious that she had again overplayed her hand, and so now had fresh cause for dread. She could only pray that before Saturday some unforeseen occurrence would enable her to escape the threatened ordeal.

The evening and night they passed together differed very little from that which had preceded it but, in the morning when they were called, before going into the bathroom he pressed a switch at the side of the square black box he had brought up to the bedroom the previous afternoon. Mary was still dozing when his voice issued from the box. Harshly it commanded: 'Get your clothes off!'

Sitting up she stared at it. She had heard of, but never seen, a tape recorder. As she listened she realized that that was what the box must be and that it was now playing back the sounds it had registered in the room while she had been receiving punishment for her attempt to escape. She heard again her own terrible screams and pleas for mercy, then his voice again, followed by her moans and sobs as she had collapsed upon the bed. The sounds brought flooding back to her the memory of the agony she had suffered, and she shuddered afresh.

When he returned from his shower, he grinned at her and said: 'Just a reminder, honey. Don't try anything you wouldn't like me to know about while I'm on the job today.'

'I won't,' she assured him quickly. 'I've no wish to leave here. I'm enjoying every moment of it.'

'Some moments,' he agreed, his grin becoming a little twisted. 'But yesterday evening I had a feeling that you'd something on your mind. A looker like you couldn't have been running solo before I snatched you. Maybe it's that you've a boy-friend in London that you're getting boiled up to be back with. Guess I'd better fix you proper, so you won't land yourself in no more pain and grief.'

Coming over to her he took her face between his two great hands. His eyes held her like magnets for a minute, then they seemed to grow very large and she heard him say: 'Repeat after me, "I'll not put a foot outside this house except with that big bastard Wash".'

Steeling herself to appear willing, she said the words not once but, at his order, three times; then he released her.

Later in the day she resolved to test the strength of the spell he had put upon her. Having waited until Jim was out of the way she went to a door at the far end of the hall that led to the garden. Opening it she looked out across a lawn to a group of trees; then she told herself that she was going to walk over to them. But she could not. The hypnotic suggestion that he had implanted in her mind held her fast. Strive as she would she could not lift a foot to step out over the door sill.

In the hall there was a telephone and it had extensions in both the sitting-room and the bedroom. She had already thought of trying to get through by one of them to Colonel Verney, and now she considered that possibility again. She actually got as far as lifting the receiver in the sitting-room, but as the dialling tone sounded quickly put it down again. Since her absent captor had so swiftly and accurately become aware of her intentions the previous afternoon it seemed certain that his highly developed psychic sense would again warn him that she was about to betray him. She was no longer capable of even leaving the house. If he returned imbued with the belief that she had been endeavouring to bring about his arrest it was quite on the cards that he might kill her. The risk was too great to take.

She then searched the room for a book in the hope that it would take her mind off her wretched situation, but apparently the telephone directory was the only book in the house. Too depressed even to listen to the radio, for the remainder of the afternoon she abandoned herself to miserable forebodings about the next stages of this seemingly bottomless pit of afflictions into which, by her own actions, she had plunged herself.

Her gargantuan host returned much later than he had the day before, and the reason for his lateness was apparent when he had Iziah - a third coloured boy who did the rough work and serviced his car - bring in a great pile of cardboard boxes. They contained at least a hundred pounds' worth of lingerie and as Mary inspected it, being human, she could not help feeling temporarily cheered up.

Confronted with this sort of thing she found it impossible to hate Wash wholeheartedly, and felt more than ever that, as he attracted her physically, she must endeavour to put all other thoughts about him out of her mind, and play up to him in the hope that when she had spent a few more nights with him he might relax his restriction on her leaving the house, or tire of her and send her back to London.

It was next day, Wednesday, that in the evening they talked for quite a while about the H-bomb and the chances of a Third World War. The subject arose through her having asked him what type of planes he had at his Station and his telling her that he commanded a squadron of giant bombers that could carry enough nuclear explosive in one mission to blow the whole of Moscow off the map.

'Should it ever have to be, let's hope they don't blow us off the map first,' she commented.

'No fear of that,' he asserted. 'Leastways, not unless some guy on their side goes crackers.'

'If you're right about that we've little need to fear an atomic war at all, then.'

'I wouldn't say that. Time may come when Uncle Sam decides to pull a fast one.'

She stared at him in amazement. 'Surely you don't mean that America would ever attack Russia without warning?'

'Could be,' he shrugged. 'Got to be realistic. Take a look at the world situation. For years past now the Soviet's been beating us to it all along the line. Uncle Sam's policy of shelling out dollars to sitters on the fence has got him nowhere. Blacks, browns, yellows take our money with one hand and aircraft, tanks and guns from the Kremlin with the other. Meantime Soviet agents and their buddies in these Afro-Asian countries riddle their administrations like maggots in a cheese. Whenever it suits, the boys in Moscow pull a string and one of these little nations blows up. The Great Panjandorum and the feudal types, who've been playing along with the West so as to keep their hooks on their bank rolls, are bumped; and there's another chunk of territory in the Communists' bag. The ring's closing all the time, and as it closes the West is losing markets. The Kremlin can put the black on the countries its nominees control to buy Russian. Add to that Soviet production being on the up-and-up, and their labour only what they've a mind to pay it, they'll soon be pricing us out of Europe and Latin America. And there's one thing folk back home won't stand for. That's a reduction of their living standard. What's the answer. Ask yourself?'

Mary shook her head. 'I don't believe any United States Government would ever launch a world war without provocation.'

'Provocation huh! They'll have plenty. The Kremlin hands it out every day. And democratic Governments aren't free agents. The White House is under pressure from our industrial tycoons all the time. As unemployment mounts they'll be able to turn the screw. If it comes to war or the bread line they'll have the ordinary folk behind them. The Russians will find that they've played at brinkmanship once too often and the big shots in the Pentagon will be told to press the button. That's how it might go, and sooner than you think.'

Owing to the circumstances in which Wash had come upon Mary he had from the beginning accepted her as a Satanist, and she had, ever since, been careful to maintain that illusion in his mind; so for the past three days during all their talks they had treated every subject from that point of view. Speaking from that angle now she said:

'If either side launched a surprise attack I should have thought it much more likely to be the Russians. We know that the old religion is making use of Communism, because it aims to destroy the Governments and false religions of the West. Isn't it quite a possibility that the Brothers of the Ram in Moscow might influence the men in the Kremlin into going to war with the idea of putting an end to the Christian heresy for good?�

He smiled at her. You've got it all wrong, honey. There's Communism and Communism. The sort that's outside the Iron Curtain is the genuine old Marxist goods, and useful to us. But not the Soviet brand. The boys in the Kremlin threw true Communism down the drain years ago. Take a look at what's been happening there. No more free love but a big build-up for family life. Go to church if you want to. Cut down the drink, or else. A new bourgeois society with all the old taboos. The guys at the top aren't going to risk the good time they're having for the sake of going crusading in Europe. They're reckoning on getting the whole works without. I've told you how, honey. Giving the impression that the Cold War is over and they really want to be friends, taking over wherever we stop paying out, industrial sabotage and using sweated labour to undersell us. I'm telling you, unless Uncle Sam blots Russia first it'll be the only country worth living in ten years hence.'

'We are always told here that the American people are scared stiff at the idea of an atomic war. And so are we for that matter. Anyhow, it would end in the whole world going up in flames; so however bad unemployment in the States becomes, I can't see them urging their Government to let them commit suicide.'

They wouldn't do that. Not consciously. The danger is things could get so bad there'd be a threat of revolution. Rather than face that the Government might plunk for taking the big gamble. All I'm telling you is that economics might push the U.S. into pulling the trigger, whereas the Soviets are getting more prosperous all the time. They're as scared of starting anything as we are, and they've more to lose. They've only to go on playing it the way they are to get Europe's cities, ports and industries as going concerns. They'd be plumb crazy to reduce them to heaps of ruins.'

'Then why is it that all these conferences about doing away with nuclear weapons have never got further than nibbling at the problem of preventing an atomic war? If what you say is right surely the Russians should be only too anxious for both sides to scrap everything, then they would have a free field to go on with their peaceful penetration without any risk of the United States suddenly banging off at them?'

'Sure, sure, honey; and they are. They've offered again and again to go the whole way; but they're not such Dummkopfs as to agree to half measures. And the West digs its toes in at the idea of packing up the great deterrent altogether, because the Soviets hold the bigger stick where conventional forces axe concerned. That's the deadlock, and the Russians would put out the biggest ever red carpet for anyone who would break it for them.'

'It seems an impasse out of which there is no way.'

'Oh, there is a way. I could do it myself if I wanted.'

'You can't mean that,' Mary said with a smile, feeling certain that he was either pulling her leg or making an absurd boast to impress her. 'How could you possibly change the views of all the leading statesmen of the Western Powers?�

'By dropping just one egg in Europe. Vague ideas are one thing; seeing is another. Headlines, radio, eye-witness reports, T.V., documentaries on the flicks. All the horror of an H-bomb bang brought fresh from the scene right into every home in the N.A.T.O. countries. Just think of the pressure there'd be on their Governments. Millions of women blowing their tops, voters of all shades shouting "It mustn't happen here", demonstrations, strikes, threats to Cabinet Ministers. And as I was telling you a while back, democratic Governments aren't free agents. They'd have no option. None at all. They'd be pushed into making a pact with the Soviets to scrap all nuclear weapons and make no more.'

'Really, Wash!' Mary protested. 'It's you who are off the mark this time. Apart from doing such a terrible thing as dropping a bomb out of the blue that would kill or maim countless innocent people, can't you see that in whichever N.A.T.O. country it fell everyone would immediately assume that the Russians had opened hostilities. Within minutes your squadron and everything else we've got would be on the way to Russia; and in no time the Russians would be fighting back. Such an act could only precipitate a general blow-up.'

He gave her an amused look. 'I didn't say drop it in a N.A.T.O. country, honey. I said Europe, and there's still neutrals. Say we put one down in Switzerland, both sides would hold their hands. They'd sit tight, batting their heads who done it, and why.

Meantime, the camera boys would be having a red-letter day; pictures and films would be getting around and the demonstrations starting.'

'I see. Yes; I suppose you're right. But think of the poor Swiss. As far as they are concerned it would be cold-blooded mass murder.'

'Seeing they stayed at home in both world wars they're about due for a token blood letting,' he replied callously. 'Besides, if the egg were dropped among those mountains its effects would be localized. A small town or two, some villages, a few thousand yodellers and tourists would take the rap; but that'd be no price at all to pay if it deprived the East and the West of the power to blow one another to pieces.'

'Looked at that way,' Mary admitted after a moment, 'perhaps there would be a case for martyring several thousand people. After all, hundreds of thousands were massacred by the Nazis with no benefit to anyone. Perhaps if one could definitely save all the great cities of Europe and America, and the millions and millions of people who live in them from a terrible death, it would be justifiable. All the same, to kill men, women and children en-masse like that would be an awful thing to do.

'I've no inhibitions about killing,' he asserted cheerfully. 'And remember, if the two big boys do get to pulling their guns there'll be mighty little left in the world that'll be worth having. Those of us who aren't disintegrated instantly or scheduled to stagger around for a few days, without teeth and our hair dropped out, will be left pretty near where you Anglo-Saxons started. For a generation or two maybe worse; anyway, for a time it's certain to be as simple as dog eat dog.'

Mary sighed. 'What a gloomy picture! And it doesn't seem that your imaginative idea for preventing an atomic war would lead in the long run to a situation that was much better. It would simply open the gate for the Russians to walk in.'

'Sure, but wouldn't that be better than death or going back to nature?'

'I'm not certain that it would.'

'It certainly would for ninety per cent of the folk who make up the population of the Western Powers. The other ten would be for the high jump or Siberia, but that's their funeral.'

'As an Air Force Colonel you'd be among them.'

'Not me, honey. As a servant of the Lord of this World I've an international ticket to the easy life in any country. That would go for you too. The Brothers of the Ram would see to it that little Sister Circe didn't lack for potatoes.'

She gave him a smile. 'Well, if it ever looks like happening, that will be nice to know. You seem to have forgotten one thing, though. This career you're so keen on would be finished; that is, unless you could get yourself taken on in the Soviet Air Force.'

'My career's finished anyhow, I'm on my way out now.' He spoke with such sudden bitterness that she momentarily felt a touch of sympathy for him, and said:

'I'm sorry, Wash. But why? I understood from what you told me that only the very best men were given command of these squadrons of big bombers that are right in the front line and all ready to go.'

'That's so, honey.'

"Then why shouldn't you become a General? Have you blotted your copybook in some way?'

'No, there's not a thing against me on the record. It's just that war-plane flying is finished. The rocket guys are taking over, and fast. They're making no more big bombers, or fighters; the types in service now are the last. In a year or two my beauties will go in the ash can, and I'll be out on my ear.'

'You will still have lots of money.'

'Yeah. But dollars aren't everything. I've ambition; and though I'll have to start again, some way yet I mean to make myself a big shot.'

The following afternoon when he got back from the base there was a letter waiting for him. For some time after he had read it he remained plunged deep in thought, then he said to her:

'You'll recall how I was nattering last night about the U.S. A. A.F. putting me on the pension list come a year or two's time, I've been throwing out lines for a future, and one of them's matured sooner than I thought. From Saturday I'll have to take some leave, on that account.'

Mary hid her sudden elation. It looked from what he said as if in another forty-eight hours she might be freed by him and, even greater blessing, escape the initiation which she so much dreaded. Endeavouring to appear disappointed, she said:

'In that case you won't be able to make me a full witch on Saturday night.'

He gave her a reassuring smile. 'Don't fret yourself, honey. I don't mean to miss out on the Esbbat. I got to hold that so as to pull down more power to myself for the new deal I'm set on making. Besides, there's the forfeit I've got to ante up for cutting loose on Walpurgis Eve.'

Concealing the blow her hopes had sustained, she asked: 'What form does it take?'

'Human blood,' he replied, and went on with a callousness that appalled her, 'Back in the States there are plenty of coloured folks who'll trade a piccaninny for fifty bucks, and the Lodges in the South sends them up on mail order. But here snatching kids is apt to mean trouble. It'll have to be one of the floosies who hang around the camp. There are scores of them, and I'll rope one in tomorrow night.'

Mary had gone dead white. After a moment she said in a low voice:

'Would you . . . would you please mix me a drink; a ... a stiff one.'

'Sure, honey.' Levering himself up to his enormous height from the armchair in which he had been lounging, he stepped over to the cocktail cabinet. 'Idea of human sacrifice still gives you the willies, eh?'

'I... I'm not used to it yet. Not. . . not being an initiate I've never seen one. But aren't you afraid that the police might trace the girl?'

'That's about as likely as me peddling peanuts on the moon. There's thousands of young dolls go missing in Britain every year. Most of them just quit home because they're fed with handing in their pay packets to their mommas, or because they've got hot pants for some married man. Mighty few of them are ever traced, and if some get in bad with a guy who gives them a passport for the golden shore there's no one to start a hue and cry after him. These teenage harpies who claw the dough outta my boys' wallets aren't local girls either. Leastways, precious few of them. They're East-end bitches down from London; so if there's one less come Sunday morning who's to worry?'

Taking the Bourbon on the Rocks that he handed her, Mary gulped some of it, drew a deep breath, and asked, 'Do the Brotherhood often offer up human sacrifice?�

'There's no fixed rule. One time it's same as now, an adept having to put himself in the clear after a lapse; another it's to celebrate the induction of a new High Priest. Times are when it's done with some special intention - maybe a Brother or Sister wanting a relative to make a quick exit, so they can get their hands on some lolly, or skip a divorce. Then once in a while some Lodge finds its secrets are being betrayed. Soon as the traitor is caught out there's an atonement ceremony in which he or she is the victim. That was the case with the last human whose blood I saw offered up.'

Mary's heart stopped for a second. A sudden paralysis seemed to run through all her limbs. With a great effort she raised the glass and took another quick drink. The strong spirit, hardly yet diluted at all by the ice cubes, seemed to burn in her chest, but it again sent her circulation racing, and enabled her to get out the question, 'How long ago was that?'

'Bit over two months. This guy was a police-spy. Someone tumbled to it that he was taking photographs of the Temple with a mini-camera. Under some pretext old Abaddon gave him deep hypnosis and dredged him clean, then sent him off to collect all the notes he had taken. There was enough dynamite in them to have blown the whole Lodge sky high. Seems he was only waiting for info' about when the Great Ram meant to officiate there again to fix for the place to be raided. Leastways, that's the story as Abaddon gave it to me. I was only in on the ritual killing.'

Wash was mixing himself a Vodka Martini and had his back to Mary, so while he was talking he did not see the horror in her eyes. She knew that he must be speaking of Teddy. The date tallied so it could be no one else. When she had least expected it she had reached the end of her self-imposed quest. It was possible that Ratnadatta might only have played the jackal, and made off with the victim's shoes, but she was now hearing about his murder from a man who had actually witnessed it. She heard her voice, as if coming from a great distance, say, 'What did they do to him?'

'Oh, there's a special drill for dealing with initiates who become apostates. Assumption is they've gone back to the Christian heresy; so we give 'em the treatment same as J.C. got for getting up against Our Lord Satan in Palestine. Only difference is we have to cut their throats so the blood'll run, and for convenience sake we crucify them upside down.'

Mary set down her glass, lurched to her feet and, with a strangled sob, ran from the room.

Half an hour later she returned to find him working at his desk. Looking up, he said casually, 'Bit strong meat for you, eh, honey? But you asked for it, and that was just as well. If you're going to be a good witch you've got to get acquainted with what goes on, and be prepared to stand in at any sort of ceremony. Play the radio now if you want, but set it on a musical programme. I can't abide canned voices while I'm working.'

In due course he bulldozed his way through the usual abundant evening meal, washing it down with copious draughts of cider laced with calvados, which seemed to have no effect upon him. Ghastly pictures flickering about in Mary's mind robbed her of all appetite, but she made a game pretence of eating; and his mind was obviously on other things, as he made no comment.

Afterwards, he returned to work and she put on some gramophone records. About ten o'clock he broke off to mix himself a long drink, and said: 'You get up to bed any time you feel that way, honey. If I'm to take leave from Saturday I've a whole heap of things need clearing up, so I'll be at it here for hours yet.'

Gladly she accepted the suggestion and cried herself to sleep. She woke when he came up but to her immense relief he did not disturb her, and soon after he had settled down she drifted off again.

Next morning her mind was more than ever harassed by fears, half-formed plans and nervous speculations. Somehow, while she had the chance, she must get from him a full account of Teddy's murder, so that details about those who had taken part in it could be made to stick.

Then, what of her future? How could she find some means of escaping this loathsome initiation ceremony? And what did he intend to do with her after Saturday? Presumably he would take her to London with him; but did he mean to let her go when they got there? She had not dared to ask him. At least if it was his intention to retain her as his mistress during his leave, she would stand a better chance of escaping from him after they had left the house.

Last, but by no means least, there was this new development of the human sacrifice he intended to make. The victim was to be chosen by chance from the scores of vicious little sluts who battened like lice on the well-paid American servicemen. But however unprincipled and depraved she might be she had a right to her life. How could this unknown be saved from the awful end that menaced her?

CHAPTER XXI DEATH OF A WOMAN UNKNOWN

While Wash had his shower and dressed, Mary continued to lie between the black satin sheets, but unconscious of their subtle caress as she cudgelled her wits to think of an answer to the nerve-shattering problems which faced her. In due course he went off to his duties and she lay there for another hour, but now that she was tied to the house by invisible bonds she could think of no way in which she could either help herself or prevent Wash from carrying out his ghastly plan to ensnare some wretched girl and offer her up as a sacrifice.

At length she got up, and it was while she was dressing that her glance happened to fall on the square box containing the machine with which Wash had taken a record of her screams when torturing her on the Monday afternoon. He had made no use of this ingenious toy since, and it was still where he had set it down on a chair that was half concealed by the side of the big olivewood wardrobe.

Lifting its lid she experimented cautiously with its switches, again playing back the first part of that horrifying scene, then recording and playing back a few bars of a tune that she hummed softly while standing beside it; and she found that it was quite easy to work.

The idea had come to her that if she could get Wash talking again about Teddy's murder within sound range of the machine while it was working, it would record his own guilt and perhaps that of others. If she could succeed in that, with luck she would find a chance to remove the spool of tape and take it with her when they left for London. Even if she had to leave it in the house, once she had got free of him she might still be able to return and retrieve it later. Having adjusted the tape to 'ready' she put the machine under her side of the big bed, so that she had only to reach a hand down to the switch to set it in motion.

All the same, so racked was she by thoughts of the horrors that Wash was planning to carry out that, after lunch that day she made another attempt to escape. It had occurred to her that if she bandaged her eyes that might enable her to pass the invisible barrier. Going to the door at the back of the house that led to the garden, she opened it, lowered the edge of a thick silk scarf that she had draped over her head, and willed herself to walk forward.

It was no good. She could lift each of her feet from the ground, but she positively could not thrust either of them out over the doorstep. Perhaps foolishly, but in desperation, she conceived the idea that since she could not walk out she might be able to crawl out. Removing the scarf she went down on her hands and knees. But her strivings in that position proved equally futile. To add to her distress and also fill her with confusion, while she was still crouching on the mat a voice behind her said:

'You bin lost something, missy?'

Jerking round her head she saw that Jim had come up unheard behind her and was regarding her with a puzzled grin.

'Yes,' she replied, seizing on the excuse to explain being there on her knees; 'a little pearl button off my blouse.'

For some minutes they both hunted for the button, but of course without result. Then she told Jim that it didn't matter, and retired defeated to the sitting-room.

Wash returned at his usual hour, but at once sat down to his desk and almost ignored her until after dinner. Then he told her that he was going out and might not be back until very late, so she should not wait up for him.

Although, with a slightly sinking feeling, she already guessed, she asked him where he was going, and he said: 'I'll be stooging around in my car till I come on a judy that's padding the hoof on her lonesome with no one in sight. Then, after we've had a short session in the bushes, I'll offer her a lift home. Time I got her in the car she'll have as good as had it. I'll put her in a deep sleep, bring her back here, lock her in the cellar and keep her there on ice till tomorrow night.'

There was nothing Mary could say or do which would have deflected him from his intention; so, maintaining the role to which she was all the time forcing herself, she begged him not to be later than he could help, and waved him away on his grim mission.

He got back at about two o'clock in the morning and, flicking all the lights on in the bedroom, strode into it in a furious temper. Mary, blinking and still half asleep, roused herself to listen to the account he gave of his venture and pretend sympathy with him over the ill-luck which had brought it to ruin.

Apparently, without being observed by anyone, he had picked up a girl who had been drinking and necking with some of his airmen. He had driven her a short distance to a wood and a little way into it, as before taking her back to the house he had wanted to make certain that she would suit his purpose. When picking her up he had realized that she had had a skinful of whiskey and when they got out of the car she had been unsteady on her feet, but not too tight to make sense.

The talk he had had with her had satisfied him that she could not have suited him better. She was a North-country girl who had run away to London and had worked the streets round the Elephant and Castle for a few months. Then, tempted by stories of the big money to be made in the neighbourhood of the American bases, she had come to Cambridge. But she had not been in the district long and the previous week her landlady had thrown her out for taking a man up to her room. Since then she had been sharing a caravan with an out-of-work that she had met in a pub, who was glad enough to give her sleeping space for a share of her earnings. From this it was clear that, like many more of her kind, if she was never seen again not a soul in the world was going to ask what had become of her.

As they got up from the bank on which they had been sitting, she said she must leave him for a minute, and went off deeper in among the trees. Two minutes later he heard a cry, then silence. A dozen yards away he found her. The drink she had taken had caused her to stumble and fall while on her way back to him. She had hit her temple on a tree stump and was stone dead.

He realized at once that if he left her body there it would be found, and it was possible that another couple necking in the darkness, or perhaps a poacher, had seen them together. Both his car and himself, owing to his unusual height, might easily lead to his being identified. The only way to make sure of not being connected with her death was to dispose of her body. Putting it in the car, he had driven some miles to a ruined Abbey in which his Lodge held its meetings. There was a deep well there down which he had intended to throw it after having offered her up as a sacrifice; to his fury her unexpected death compelled him to do so twenty-four hours earlier. And by the time he had done that it was too late for him to have any hope of finding a substitute.

Harrowed as Mary was by this awful story, it at least aroused in her new hope that a merciful Providence intended sparing her the black hour with which she was threatened on the following night; and she said: 'As you won't be able to make a sacrifice I suppose my initiation will have to be put off.'

'Yeah,' he grunted, 'I'll have to hold the Esbbat just the same; but you'll remain here. I'll pick you up afterwards. Now for some shut-eye. Praise be, I've not got to show up at my office tomorrow morning, so I told Jim earlier to bring us up breakfast at eight o'clock.'

Immensely relieved, and much comforted by the thought that by Sunday she would be back in London, Mary drifted off to sleep.

While they were breakfasting in the morning she put into operation her plan for getting him. to incriminate himself on the tape recorder. Having put a hand down beside the bed while he was not looking, and switched it on, she said:

'I behaved very stupidly yesterday when you were telling me about human sacrifices. If I'm to be a really good witch I ought to prepare myself to witness such ceremonies. I'd like you to tell me exactly what takes place.'

Sleep had restored Wash to his normal good humour, so he gave a chuckle and replied, 'Good for you, honey. It'll be a pleasure to put you wise.' Then with the same air of detachment he might have used had he been a doctor describing a series of surgical operations, he went on.

'You'll have heard of Black Masses. Well, all human sacrifices take that form; only difference being that a genuine Black Mass in Christian countries has to be performed by an unfrocked priest. I don't reckon that adds up to much, though. There's ritual killings by the Mau Mau, and plenty other Africans, by Chinese, Indians, Patagonians, and all sorts. All of them offer up the blood to Our Lord Satan, and that's what counts. The drill varies, though, according to the type of victim that's being offered up. When it's a kid, then a woman stretches herself out starko on the altar. If I'd been able to snatch one in these parts I'd have used you for that role.'

Mary had finished her breakfast and was lying back in bed, so she was able to shut her eyes and conceal her shudder as he continued placidly:

'The High Priest intones the incantation, and states the intention. That's the event the sacrifice is ante-d up to bring about: maybe for someone's death, to get a verdict in a law case, or get elected to some post that means power or a lot of dough. Then the kid is laid on the woman, its throat is slit, and all and sundry take a drop of the blood with the middle finger of their left hand. When it's a dame that's to take the rap, she's bound and laid on the altar. The High Priest says his piece, then cuts her throat.'

Mary felt that she could bear to hear no more, but in blissful ignorance of her feelings he proceeded. 'If it's to be curtains for a Brother or Sister who's double-crossed the Brotherhood it's like I told you yesterday. Assumption is they've relapsed to Christian; so they're given the treatment head down - hung from an inverted cross.'

Glancing down at her he noticed how pale she was and said: 'Bit much for you, honey? Sorry about that, but you asked for it, and you've got to know about these things sometime.'

Steeling herself to go through with her plan, she muttered, 'Yes . . . Yes ... of course I have. Go on, tell me about that police-spy that you saw sacrificed two months ago. Give me the details. I can take it.'

He told her then how Teddy had been murdered. It had been only Wash's second visit to the Temple at Cremorne; so he had played no part in it but had been one of about a score of onlookers. Ratnadatta and three Brothers whose Satanic names were Roger Bacon, Albertus Magnus and Gilles de Rais had trussed the victim up. Abaddon had cut his throat and Pope Honorius had caught the blood in a chalice.

At the price of searing her mind with nightmare pictures that she would never be able to forget, Mary had got what she wanted. For a few minutes she felt so sick that she dared not move, then she slid her hand down, switched off the tape recorder, and said

'Thanks, Wash. I'll know now what to expect, and be better able to stand up to it. I can't help shuddering, though, at the thought of anyone suffering such a terrible death.'

To her surprise he volunteered her a crumb of consolation.

'Oh, it's not all that bad as a way to die. This guy was brought out from under deep hypnosis no more than ten minutes before he was dead meat. What's that against a medico wising you up to it that you've got incurable cancer, or being tortured till your heart gives out, way the Japs played it on some of our boys they captured in the Pacific war?'

When he had dressed and gone downstairs she switched on the machine again and in a low voice spoke into it. With the possibility now in mind that she might not be able to deliver it herself, but might come across someone she could trust to post it, or leave it with, she gave her name and such particulars as she could about Wash's activities, together with a brief account of how she had become associated with him. She added that anyone into whose possession the spool came should send it to Colonel Verney, care of the Special Branch, New Scotland Yard. Then, with trembling fingers, she cut off the used portion of the tape, concealed the little roll it made in a small box that had held a bottle of nail varnish, put it in her handbag, and replaced the machine on the chair where it had been left from Monday to Friday.

It was as well she did, for later in the day Wash went up to fetch it to be packed with numerous other things he was taking on leave with him. When he said he was going up for it she almost fainted with terror. It seemed certain that he would look inside the box, notice that part of the tape had been cut off, and with his highly developed psychic sense guess what it had been used for. If that happened she knew that he would kill her - that there would after all be a human sacrifice that night, and she would be the victim.

With her heart in her mouth she waited for his return. He seemed to be away for an eternity. At last he reappeared. She could hardly believe it when she saw that his great hook-nosed face was as tranquil as ever and, after he had bellowed for Jim, saw him hand the machine unopened over to the coloured boy. He had said nothing to her about where he meant them to stay while in London or why, instead of waiting until the Sunday, he intended to drive up there after the Esbbat, which meant that they would arrive there in the early hours of the morning. And she had not liked to ask him about his plans, from fear that he might suspect her intention of trying to get away from him. She could only assume that he was anxious to lose not an hour in opening his business negotiations, and that perhaps the people concerned were also Satanists who had a house to which he meant to take her. All she knew for certain was that he had paid his boys a fortnight's wages; so presumably that was the period of leave he had obtained from his General.

In the afternoon, while she was doing her own packing in a big suitcase with which he had provided her, he went off to the airfield for an hour, then on his return he came upstairs and said:

'We'll be awake a good part of the night, so I've ordered additional chow for having with our coffee round five o'clock. After, we'll catch a few hours' shut-eye. Then come eleven we'll eat again. At half-after I've a guest arriving who'll be going with me to the Esbbat. The Lodge I run here is no big show like Cremorne - just a coven of thirteen so as initiates on the Station can keep their hand in. Soon as I've done the ritual I can quit; so I'll be back here to pick you up round half-after-one. And you'll be ready on the dot. I'm working to a time schedule; so if you've left anything upstairs that'll be just too bad. You'll leave without it.'

The rest of the day went in accordance with these arrangements, up till eleven o'clock. They were in the big lounge waiting for Jim to announce that their supper was ready. Suddenly the door to the hall was thrown open and, instead of Jim, Iziah thrust his head in. A little breathlessly, his white eyeballs rolling in his black face, he blurted out,

�I�se copt a snooper, boss. I were goin' out to the garage to check on all bein' dandy with the automobile, when I spots him. He were paddin' around peepin' in the winders. Fortunate, I had my gumshoes on. I sneaked up on him and give him the K.O. from behind. He were packing a rod, too, boss; but I'se took it off him. Jim and Buster got him in the kitchen. What'll you want we do with him?'

'Good work, Iziah, good work,' smiled his master. 'Bring the bum in, so I can run my eye over him.'

Two minutes later all three coloured boys hustled in a short broad tousled figure, still only partly conscious, as was evident from the fact that his chin was on his chest and his head of short dark curls stuck forward rolling slightly. Yet the moment he appeared in the doorway Mary realized that it was Barney.

For his having been caught while surreptitiously reconnoitring the house there could be only one explanation. Somehow he had learned that she had been carried off to it and had come there to rescue her. During the past week she had thought many harsh thoughts about him. This wiped them all out in an instant. But he had bungled it. That was no fault of his. How could anyone foresee that a garage hand would suddenly emerge from a house at eleven o'clock at night to make sure that a car was in perfect running order? Nevertheless, he had been caught. And Colonel Hendrik G. Washington was not the sort of man who would take lightly being spied upon. Certain of his activities were definitely of such a kind that he would go to any lengths to prevent their discovery.

Mary felt certain that the giant American would not hand Barney over to the police. It was much more likely that he would have the boys give him a terrible beating, then throw him out - more likely still that Wash would not rest content until he learned what had led Barney to act the spy, and use torture on him to find out.

Frantically she searched her mind for some way to save Barney from the results of his ill-starred attempt to come to her help. Suddenly a possible though dangerous line occurred to her. If it did not come off, if Barney failed to pick up her lead, or made a mess of things while trying to follow it up, they would both pay a price that she did not allow herself to contemplate. But there was no other way of attempting to explain his presence. Swallowing hard, she forced a smile and exclaimed,

'What in the world are you doing here?' Then, swinging round on Wash, she cried with a laugh, 'This is a boy-friend of mine; and I've got it. As I've been missing from my flat for a week he must have become worried about me. How lovely! Learning that you'd carried me off he must have come here to play the Knight Errant and rescue me.'

The big American frowned. 'How come he learned it was me who took you from - from you know where - and that I'd brought you this place?�

'From Ratnadatta, of course,' she replied quickly. 'Our visitor is a neophyte. He was attending Mrs. Wardeel's evenings at the same time as myself. That blow you hit Ratnadatta couldn't have broken his neck, and I expect he was only too glad of a chance to...'

'Couldn't be,' Wash cut in. 'Ratnadatta doesn't know my real name or where I am stationed.'

Barney was still groggy, but his wits were coming back to him and he had taken in every word Mary had said. Seizing the lifeline she had thrown him, he said, a trifle thickly,

'Oh yes he does. And Margot's right. Your blow didn't kill him; but he's got a bandage as thick as a board round his neck. I didn't know how to get hold of him till tonight; but I was with him not much over an hour and a half ago. He's got it in for you. He ferreted out particulars about you from the secret list, and came down here yesterday himself to make a recce. Of course he hadn't got the guts to come in and have a crack at you, but he jumped at giving me the chance to do it for him.'

With a nod of thanks to the boys, their master told them to release their prisoner and get back to the kitchen. Standing up, he towered over Barney, and said with a wide smile, 'Well, you've made it, buddy. Now you are here I'm invitin' you to take a crack at me.'

'No.' Barney declined the honour with a slightly sheepish grin. 'But as Margot went off without leaving any sort of message you can't blame me for having been anxious about her.'

'I've nothing against that, son,' Wash threw out generously. 'Even if you have been wasting your time; shows your good taste. As you're a neophyte you'll no doubt have chosen your Satanic name. Mine's Twisting Snake; what's yours?'

That was a facer. Barney had no idea how to reply, but Mary had had more time to become knowledgeable about the history of the Black Art, so she swiftly stepped into the breach and said to Wash, 'I'm sorry; I ought to have introduced him. He is taking the name of Doctor Dee.'

'After the ace-high Elizabethan wizard, eh?' The American held out his huge hand. 'Glad to be acquainted, Doc! Put it there. You've driven quite a way already tonight. Right now we were about to sit down to supper. Reckon you'd better join us and stoke up a little 'fore you hit the trail back.'

Feeling that to accept was the natural, and therefore least dangerous, line to take, Barney, who, apart from a headache, had now fully recovered, replied, 'Thanks, that's very kind of you. I'd like to.'

'You're welcome,' said his host, and led the way through the door at the far end of the room, which gave directly on to the smaller dining-room, where Jim was waiting for the signal to serve supper.

Mary was aghast at Barney's having accepted. That they had avoided disaster even for so short a time seemed to her a miracle. Silently she cursed him for a fool for not having said that he meant to stay the night in Cambridge, apologize for his intrusion and get out while the going was good. She thanked her stars now that she had not said that he was an initiate. If she had, knowing next to nothing of the Satanic cult he could never have got by. As a neophyte he would not be expected to know more than the rudiments, but she feared that he would never be able to sustain even that role for half an hour in conversation with such a penetrating mind as Wash possessed.

Being very far from a fool, Barney was fully conscious of that danger. In consequence, as soon as they were seated he quickly got off the subject of the occult and led his host into a discussion about the respective prospects of the Republicans and the Democrats in the forthcoming elections in the United States.

The topic served for ten minutes, and the gulf between the British and American methods of democratic government served for another ten; but then Wash asked Barney who had sponsored him as a neophyte and when. Barney replied to the first question, 'Ratnadatta', which was safe enough, but he had to take a chance on the second and, having swiftly worked back the dates to a suitable Saturday, said: 'The 9th of March.'

That was the night that Ratnadatta had given Mary dinner, then taken her on for her first visit to the Temple. And that night the giant American had been there. He said he felt sure he had, but had no recollection of a neophyte resembling Barney having been introduced. He admitted that his memory might have let him down about the date, but that such lapses did not often occur with him. Then he asked Barney if it had been Abaddon or the Great Ram who had cut the penitent's clothing off from him.

For Mary and Barney it was a case of being saved by the gong, for at that very minute Jim came in to tell his master that the visitor he was expecting had arrived and had been shown into the sitting-room.

Without waiting for an answer to the question he had just asked, Wash came quickly to his feet and said: 'Both of you may chalk this up as one of your lucky nights. The Great Ram is here, and I'll make you known to him. Quit eating now and come with me.'

Obediently they left the remains of the foie gras and toast with which they had been finishing their supper, and followed him back into the sitting-room.

Standing in front of the fireplace was a tallish slim figure. On the only previous occasion when Mary had seen the Great Ram he had been wearing his big curly-horned mask, but she recognized his cruel, beautifully curved mouth and strong, deeply dimpled chin. Owing to his extraordinary resemblance to Otto, Barney, who had never seen him before, recognized him as Lothar.

Wash took a couple of strides forward and said: 'Exalted One, it's great to have you with us. I've two neophytes here, Circe and Doctor Dee. They'd be mighty pleased to have your blessing.

Mary and Barney were standing side by side. She touched his hand with hers, praying that he would have the sense to follow her lead; then she went down on one knee, and taking the slim, strong left hand that the Great Ram extended to her, she kissed the splendid blood-red ruby of the ring that he wore on it.

Barney had given one quick look at the man's eyes. He knew then that he was in the presence of something which he could not contend against; so, dropping on one knee, he followed Mary's example.

As they touched the stone in the ring with their lips it felt as cold as an ice cube and, when they rose to stand before the Great Ram, both of them were conscious of a chill that emanated from him which gave them the sort of sensation they would have had from standing in front of an open deep freeze. As he looked at them his glance, too, was icy. Without addressing a word to them, he glanced at Wash and said: 'I wish to speak to you alone.'

The American signed to the other two to return to the dining-room. Gladly they did so. As the door closed behind them Mary's urge to thank Barney for having made an attempt to rescue her was overridden by an instinctive feeling that his life hung by a thread; that even if a second were wasted he might lose it. Without an instant's hesitation she pointed to the curtains drawn across a window and said:

'You were crazy to come here! Get out! That way! That way! But one moment, take this with you.' Diving her hand into her bag she drew out the little nail varnish carton containing the precious recording tape, and thrust it at him.

Automatically he took it, pushed it into the pocket of his jacket, and in a puzzled voice replied, 'But I came to get you! Go on! You go first. I'll follow.'

'No, no!' She shook her head. 'I'm in no danger, but you are. He suspects you. If we had sat here at supper another minute he'd have caught you out.'

'I'm not going without you,' he retorted doggedly.

Only too willingly she would have made a break for it with him, but she knew that she could not. She knew without further experiment that she was still under the hypnotic command of her kidnapper, and that during his pleasure she was definitely chained to the house.

'I can't,' she said. 'It is not possible. I've got to stay.'

His brown eyes suddenly hardened. "There's no question of you're having got to. You mean you want to.'

'No, no!' She cried in extreme agitation. 'It's not that. But I'm more or less safe here; and you are not. For God's sake stop arguing and go!'

'You are the mistress of this American, aren't you?' He shot at her.

'Of course I am,' she snapped back. 'Does he look like a village curate or an inmate of an old folk's home?�

'I guessed as much during supper, when he kept on calling you "honey",' Barney declared bitterly.

'Oh, God help me!' Mary wailed 'What does it matter! Open that window. Get out and run for it while you still have the chance.'

'And leave you here, eh?' For what now seemed weeks to Barney his mind had been obsessed with the one idea of getting her out of the clutches of the Satanists, at whose hands he had imagined her to be suffering every kind of distress and degradation. No matter what she might have done in the past, it was the woman he had come to know and love during the past two months that counted. And now he had come upon her as beautiful as ever, untroubled by fears and displaying a cheerful affection for this giant American Colonel. Her frank admission that she had become the man's mistress was the last straw. Final disillusion caused his eyes to go black with anger and he added furiously,

'All right then! Stay here if you want to! Stay and wallow with that great hog! Once a whore always a whore; and now I know why you became one.'

Mary's eyes went as round as marbles; her mouth fell open; she gave a gasp. 'What... what the hell d'you mean?'

'What I say,' he snapped. 'Your name's not Margot but Mary. I know all about you and the life you led before you married.'

When he said 'all' she thought he meant all. Never in her wildest dreams had she visualized a denouement like this. She had believed that she knew all about his past while he knew nothing of hers. But now the cat was out of the bag. Hands on hips, her blue eyes shooting sparks, she let him have it.

'All right! I was a whore! And who made me one? Who put me in the family way and left me in the lurch? Who went gaily off to America leaving the poor kid that I was to borrow the money for the illegal; so that for months afterwards I had to sell myself to pay it back? Who took little Mary McCreedy's virginity and left her at six in the morning with the fine words, "See you again soon, sweetheart", then without a thought that he might have got her into trouble, or a word of good-bye, took himself off to the United States? Who but that great Irish gentleman, Mister Barney Sullivan. The dirty rotten lecherous cad who now, to lead girls easier up the garden path, pretends to have property in Kenya and has the nerve to tell them he is a lord.'

Barney's eyes had gone as round as Mary's before she started to storm at him. From the moment he had come face to face with her on Mrs. Wardeel's doorstep he had had a vague feeling that they had met somewhere before. But in five years she had altered from an unsophisticated slip of a girl to a fine self-possessed woman, and her hair being dark instead of fair had accentuated the difference. It was over a week now since she had had a chance to treat it with the dye she used, and as he stared at her he saw that, although she still had the appearance of a brunette, the quarter-of-an-inch of hair nearest to her scalp was golden.

Stunned by this revelation that she was the little cabaret girl who long ago in Dublin had exercised a fascination over him for a few weeks before he had come into his title and left Ireland for good, he was temporarily at a loss for words. Before he could collect himself the door opened. The huge American stood framed in it. He was smiling at them, and said:

'Young feller, this is your lucky day. It is the prerogative of our Exalted Master, the Great Ram, that he can make initiates any-when, by using one drop of his own sacred blood. That eliminates the necessity for a sacrifice, and he's consented to admit you two to the Brotherhood tonight. Come on now. We've no time to lose. It's well past half-after eleven. We must be on our way to the Esbbat.'

Still dazed by the explosion of their personal relations, yet unable to exchange another word upon them, Mary and Barney followed the hook-nosed giant out into the hall. The front door was open. The Great Ram was already seated at the wheel of a large car outside it. Wash told Barney to get in beside him.

Barney hesitated only a second. The man at the wheel was Lothar. All else apart, it was his duty, now he had so unexpectedly got on to him, to stick with him, and let C.B. know their whereabouts at the first possible opportunity.

Wash's car was drawn up in front of Lothar's. Iziah was standing by it. Jim had picked up the suitcase containing Mary's things, which had been standing ready in the hall. Carrying it out, he added it to the pile of luggage already in the back of the car. Having helped Mary on with her coat, Wash took her by the arm. Her mind was in such a turmoil that she did not even think of the invisible barrier which had for days prevented her leaving the house. His leading her out automatically nullified it. He opened the door of the car and she got in beside him. The engine purred and the big car slid away down the drive. As it turned into the road he said:

'I'm still all of a dither, honey. It was a mighty fine break the Great Ram coming here tonight. You've been had for a sucker. The Exalted One's got a no-good brother. He overlooks him from time to time. Last week-end, some place down in Wales, he saw this guy Doctor Dee in cahoots with his brother and a bunch of R.A.F. security boys. The Doc is another police-spy. But it pans out good. We sold him the story about your both being initiated. You're going to be initiated alright; but he's to be the sacrifice that'll both pay my forfeit and provide the blood to baptize you.'

CHAPTER XXII IN THE RUINED ABBEY

For a moment Mary's heart stopped beating. Her mind reeled as it grasped the appalling situation which had so suddenly developed.

Now for the hundredth time she cursed her folly in not having let sleeping dogs lie. The early stages of her investigation had held for her only a spice of danger sufficient to intrigue, and her first successes with Ratnadatta had strengthened her resolution to ignore the warnings she had been given - until Barney had extracted a promise from her that she would have nothing more to do with the Satanists. But by then, through having become a neophyte, she had already forged a fatal link with them, and the sight of Teddy's shoes on Ratnadatta's feet had proved her undoing.

From that night, as a result of her own actions, she had become the plaything of Evil and exposed to one peril after another. That she had, after all, succeeded in securing concrete evidence against her husband's murderers was now small comfort. If these fiends with whom she had consorted dealt with Barney as they had with Teddy his death would lie at her door.

As her heart suddenly began to beat again she drew a sharp, rasping breath.

'Surprised you, eh, honey?' Wash commented grimly. 'Surprised me too, seein' you claimed to be well acquainted with this Doctor Dee. Tell what you know of him.'

His tone implied no suspicion of her, only curiosity; but she knew that she must exercise the greatest caution about every word she said. In a low voice she murmured, There's not much I can tell you. I believed him to be one of us and it's a nasty shock to hear that he's not.'

'Give, honey, give.' Wash's voice had suddenly become impatient. 'He's your boy friend, and came to these parts set on trying to snatch you off me. Fellers don't go that far unless they and the dame are pretty close to one another.'

Mary's mind was still a whirl of misery, but she managed to co-ordinate her thoughts sufficiently to reply. 'He is in love with me, of course; but he's never been my boy friend in the sense you mean. I met him only a few weeks ago at Mrs. Wardeel's. She is a woman who holds evenings for dabblers in the occult. Ratnadatta always goes to them to pick up anyone there who looks a likely convert to the True Faith. He was introduced to me as Lord Larne and...'

'Lord Larne,' Wash interrupted. 'He must have plenty gall to have taken a title for his front.'

Instantly Mary covered up for Barney by asserting, 'It wasn't a front. He is Lord Larne. No one's ever questioned that. Anyway, after some of the meetings he walked home with me. Then he asked me out to dine and dance, and twice I've given him supper at my flat. He was an amusing companion and we had the common interest that we both hoped to become initiates. We had started an affaire, and if things hadn't gone as they did the night you carried me off I expect that in due course he and I would have become lovers. His having come after me here shows only that he must have fallen harder for me than I thought.'

'So that's your side of it. Maybe, though, it's not hot pants that brought him here. Seeing he's a cop it's on the cards that he's been stringing you along for what he could get out of you, and followed your trail on a hunch that you'd give him the dope about what goes on in these parts.'

'Perhaps,' Mary admitted; and for a moment her misery was rendered even more intense by the thought that possibly that might be the truth. She had hardly yet had time to assimilate the idea that Barney was some sort of detective. If he was, that explained many things. On the assumption that he was a playboy whose time was his own, she had bitterly resented what she had believed to be his lies about his Kenya travel agency arrangements interfering with their meetings; but that, she realized now, could have been cover for periods when he had to perform certain duties. It also excused his taking a title as a pseudonym, as doing so would have made him more readily acceptable at Mrs. Wardeel's. It even made it probable that he had not deliberately let her down the previous week-end to go off with some other woman. As against that there did seem to be a possibility that from the very beginning he had been making use of her only because she had got in with Ratnadatta before he had, and had succeeded in penetrating the Satanic circle at Cremorne.

After only the briefest consideration Mary thrust that last idea aside. Had there been any foundation for it Barney would have urged her to go through with her initiation, then pumped her about what had taken place. As it was he had used his utmost endeavours to persuade her to have no more to do with the Satanists. So if he was a detective he had put her safety before his duty as an investigator. At this thought, in spite of the harsh words with which they had parted, her heart both warmed towards him and was wrung afresh with terrible visions of what lay in store for him.

Virtually a prisoner as she was, she could think of no way in which she could save him or help him to escape, until Wash remarked, 'There's times when you British can be mighty sly. Who'd have thought that for special missions Scotland Yard would have kept on its pay-roll a real live Lord?'

Seizing the opening given her, Mary said quickly, 'I can't believe they do. There's a mistake somewhere. There must be. This fellow is Lord Larne all right. If he had been a fake someone at Mrs. Wardeel's would have been certain to have found him out and exposed him. He is an Irish Earl and only on a visit to England. He has estates in Kenya and has lived there most of his life, so he can't possibly be a member of the British Police Force. The Great Ram must have mistaken him for someone else.'

Wash gave an ugly laugh. 'The Great Ram doesn't make mistakes, honey. Could be you're right about his coming from Kenya. If so, his tie-up with the police here is only temporary. Bui if the Great Ram says he's a spy, a spy he is. Had we the time we'd put him under hypnosis and get details about his assignment. As things are tonight we're working on too tight a schedule. Just have to bump him and get on with our own business.'

'You can't!' Mary cried in protest. 'You can't. Not without giving him some form of trial. At least you must give him a chance to show that this is all a terrible mistake.'

'Having liked the guy it's natural you should see things that way.' Wash put his big hand on her knee and gave it a friendly squeeze. 'I guess, too, maybe you'd been countin' on him making h you his Duchess or something; so him turning out a rat is a bad break for you. Still, none of us can expect the little old ivories to roll as we want all the time, and now you're my squaw I'll see you lack for nothing. At this point, though, I'll warn. When your Lord Larne is about to get his, no throwing a scene. The Great Ram wouldn't take that kindly, and it might make things mighty awkward for us both.'

For a few minutes Mary remained silent while the car sped on through the dark night, then she asked, 'Where are we going?'

'To the ruined Abbey I was telling you of last night. Place where I dumped the body of that floosie down the well.'

Mary shuddered. 'To ... to hold a Sabbat in such a place must be very different from holding one in the Temple at Cremorne.'

They've one thing in common: altars once used for Christian rites. That's a must in Christian countries. Leastways, they give ten times the potency to the conjurations of a priest of Our Lord Satan.

'I see. But after the ceremony? Surely it's too cold and uncomfortable for anyone to enjoy feasting, and that sort of thing, in an old ruin?'

He laughed. 'You'll not find it cold, honey. To alter temperature within a radius of a hundred yards is a simple magic. I create a fog belt round the ruin as a precaution against passing casuals seeing our lights from the road and getting a mind to snoop. Then I call off the rain - if need be - and ante-up the heat inside the magic circle to a degree that's pleasant.'

Having witnessed the Great Ram perform more astonishing miracles, Mary accepted without question Wash's claim to control local weather conditions by magic, but she said, 'All the same, unless you can turn slabs of stone into divans, and the hard ground into a carpet, there can't be much fun in holding an orgy there.'

'We don't; not in the ruin. I've rented a house not far off that's got all the etceteras. Once a month we adjourn there after the ceremony. There's no women initiates in this little Lodge I've founded for my boys. I get out from Cambridge a picked bunch of dolls for them to hit it up with. The dolls are not wise to what goes on beforehand in the Abbey. They're just invited to a party where there'll be prizes for the hottest momma, and paid off in the morning.'

'Shall we be going there to-night?�

'No. We've only to do the rituals, perform the sacrifice and initiate you; then we beat it just as fast as we can.'

'Does that mean that I'll have to ... to do my Temple Service in the ruin?'

'Yeah. You'll have to take it on the altar stone, honey. And for once in my life I'll be jealous. You've sure got under my skin. I'll just hate the others even eyeing you on the stone, let alone what'll follow.'

'I ... Wash; listen!' she burst out. 'I'm going to hate it, too, now I know you feel like that about me. And as long as you do I'd be content to remain a neophyte. You can give me everything I want without my becoming a witch. Let's postpone my initiation. You can drop me somewhere before we get to the Abbey and I'll wait on the roadside until you are through with your rituals and can pick me up again.'

With her pulses racing she waited breathlessly for his reply. If he agreed, not only would she escape the dreaded ordeal of initiation but, infinitely more important, she would have a chance to get to a telephone and bring the police on the scene before they could murder Barney.

'That's mighty handsome of you, honey,' he said softly. 'You must care quite a lot about old Wash to offer to forgo this chance to acquire power, so as to spare him the sight of you playing the part of a push-over. I'd give a packet to be able to take you up on your offer.'

'But you can! Why shouldn't you?'

He shook his head. 'No dice, honey. I could have if the Great Ram wasn't in on this party. But he is; and he's offered to initiate you himself. That's one hell of an honour. To turn it down just isn't possible; and the initiation wouldn't make sense unless you do your stuff in the Creation rite. If you tried to stall now he'd maybe think it was because you couldn't take our giving Doctor Dee the works, and meant to apostasize. Then he'd send out a curse that would blast you where you stood.'

With a sigh Mary lay back and closed her eyes. Her brief hope had been dashed and it now seemed that nothing short of a miracle could save Barney's life. Silently but fervently she began to pray to the Holy Virgin to intercede for him.

Barney's thoughts, meanwhile, were almost equally chaotic. Being completely unaware of the peril which threatened to bring his existence to an abrupt termination in the very near future, the idea of trying to get away from his sinister companion never entered his mind; it was filled with a jumble of speculations which shuttled swiftly to and fro between the man beside him and Mary. To him it seemed a marvellous piece of luck that while seeking for Mary down here in the country he should have stumbled on Lothar. Although an Irishman, Barney had the quality of an English bulldog and, having made contact with the Satanist whom his chief was so anxious to lay by the heels, nothing could have induced him to let go. To him it was now only a question of how best to secure Lothar's arrest. Yet he found it exceedingly difficult to concentrate on the problem because Mary's enraged face and furious denunciation of him persistently rose up in his mind.

The revelation that she was the Mary McCreedy of his salad days had left him temporarily stunned. He could not think now how he had failed to recognize her; she had made it clear enough that she had recognized him. But why had she not revealed the fact, and given him a chance to explain?

He wondered then, a shade uneasily, what explanation he could have given, except that on coming into his title his uncle had insisted on his changing his whole way of life. But evidently she believed that he had invented his title, and that was hardly surprising in view of the lies he had told her about his having spent most of his life in Kenya. That could be put right, but how much was he really to blame for the miseries she had suffered after he had left Dublin?

Thrusting the question aside, he switched his mind back to Lothar. Evidently the Satanist did not suspect either Mary or himself, as he had offered to initiate them. What form would the initiation take? Something pretty vile without a doubt. Spitting on the Cross, oaths of fidelity to the Devil, and a sexual 'free for all' to finish up with, seemed the probable programme. At the last item his thoughts switched back to Mary.

Was she really as hardboiled as she now appeared? Apparently she had been thoroughly enjoying herself here for the past week with the great hulking American. Perhaps, then, she would not mind giving herself to several different men during the course of a midnight orgy. Mentally he groaned at the thought.

In his fury he had stormed at her, 'Once a whore always a whore!' but was that really true? Not necessarily; and certainly not in her case. He knew now that she had been forced into prostitution, and it was clear from her having married Teddy Morden that she had escaped from it as soon as she had the chance. The fact that she was now living with the American could not be held against her. It needed only a second thought to appreciate that she was doing so as a stage in her campaign to get evidence against Teddy's murderers. If that was so she was going to hate taking part in an orgy as much as he did the thought of her doing so.

Lothar had not addressed a word to him. With regal unconcern for the fact that he had a passenger the Great Ram remained deep in his own thoughts, driving the powerful car with ease and skill so that it maintained an almost unvarying distance of some fifty yards from the rear lights of the other car.

Barney shot Lothar a sidelong glance. He was wondering now if by some means he could prevent the Satanist from getting to the Esbbat, and so save Mary from the ordeal of initiation. The only possibility seemed to be to wait until the car slowed down, then turn and strike him senseless by a sudden blow behind the ear. But as long as they were moving at more than twenty miles an hour that would be much too dangerous. Barney realized that before he could grab the wheel the car would be off the road. If it turned over or crashed into a tree he might be seriously injured, and so have robbed himself of the chance to capture Lothar. Yet if he waited until the car slowed down on approaching their destination, it was certain that the car in front would already have pulled up. The big American would be getting out and would be bound to see the result of an attack on Lothar. He would come dashing to the rescue long before the stunned Satanist could be pulled out of the car and dragged off into the bushes. These considerations swiftly decided Barney against making such an attempt unless they lost touch with the car ahead or for some unforeseen reason Lothar had to reduce their pace to something near a crawl.

Again his thoughts went back to Mary. He now remembered her clearly as a lovely golden-haired slip of a girl who had been the pick of the dance-hostesses in the restaurant where she worked, but he had only vague memories of the single night they had spent together. He had had a big win that day on a horse called 'Cherry Pie' and, as usual when his luck was in, splashed a good part of the proceeds in standing champagne to all and sundry; so he had been pretty tight himself by the time he had persuaded her to let him take her to an hotel. He recalled his disappointment at finding her frigid and later his annoyance at her not having told him to begin with that she was a virgin, but apart from that his mind was a blank.

He knew himself well enough to be sure that he had not abused her or treated her unkindly, and no doubt on leaving he had promised to see her soon again. After all, it was usual to say something of that kind to a girl after having spent the night with her, whether one meant it or not. In this case he probably had meant it, and all the odds were that he would have, had not his whole life taken a different turn a few days later.

But if he had, it would not have been to assure himself that he had not put her in the family way. The idea that he might have had not even occurred to him. His light-hearted amours with other cabaret girls had led him to believe that they all knew how to look after themselves or, in the event of an accident, take early steps to remedy it. If Mary had let things slide that was her fault, and he could not be blamed.

Yet, on further thought, he had to admit to himself that fundamentally he was responsible, because he had tempted her with money. She had not been like the other girls who had cheerfully accepted his advances on a business basis. She had more than once refused him, declaring that she 'did not do that sort of thing'. Then, on the night of his big win she had been very depressed, and he had got out of her the reason. Her brother was in trouble and she was too hard up to help him out.

He had not supposed for one moment that she was a virgin, but a girl who normally would not give herself for money, as many of her companions did; so he had seized the opportunity of her needing money and bid her twenty pounds, reasoning that the offer of so large a sum might do the trick - and it had.

Only later, had he been more sober, could he have appreciated the mental struggle she must have been through before giving way to the temptation to have that fat wad of pound notes in her handbag next morning; and only now could he begin to appreciate something of the misery with which she had ultimately had to pay for them.

The thought of her at seventeen, or eighteen at the most, concealing her harrowing secret for many weeks, until only an illegal operation could free her from it, wrung his heart. And then the way she had had to earn the money to pay for it. What she must have been through did not bear thinking about. He might count himself innocent of intent to harm her, but he had, and the wonder was that she had survived it to become the charming and courageous woman he had met at Mrs. Wardeel's.

That, he realized, was the real Mary; and now that he knew the whole truth concerning her the doubts he had had during the past week about allowing himself to go on loving her were entirely dissipated. The dangerous and distasteful role she was playing at present was that of a Crusader against Evil, wielding a woman's weapons. The life of ill-fame she had led in Dublin had been forced upon her, and by his act as an irresponsible young rake. If she would let him he would do his utmost to make up to her for that. The moment they were free to be together again he would beg her forgiveness for the abuse he had heaped on her that night, and tell her how desperately he loved her.

But when would they be free to be together again? Once more he glanced at Lothar's aloof, hatchet-like profile and silently cursed him for having turned up at the Cedars. Had he not done so the present situation would never have arisen. Instead of Mary being on her way to play a part in some revolting ceremony she would still be at the Cedars; he could have left, driven into Cambridge, collected the police, bagged the American and then driven her back to London.

Suddenly he began to wonder why Lothar had turned up at the Cedars when he had. Surely the Great Ram had not come all the way from the Continent, or even from London, simply to preside at a meeting of a little local coven and, at that, a meeting that was only an Esbbat, not even a Sabbat, let alone one of the great Satanic feasts of the year to which the covens of several countries would have been summoned. What devilry was he up to, then, in a remote village like Fulgoham?

Perhaps the fact that his host was a Colonel in the United States Air Force gave the clue? Yes, something to do with the great American air base in the nearby valley must be the answer. Down in Wales he had succeeded in making off with a considerable quantity of the special rocket fuel. What could he be after here?

For some minutes Barney's mind roved over possibilities. Surely he was not planning to get away with one of the giant aircraft? What could he do with it if he succeeded? Besides, it would need a trained crew to fly it. But an H bomb perhaps? No, that did not make sense either, if Forsby was right in his belief that Lothar wanted to try out some private experiment of his own; because bombs were dropped from aircraft so did not need rocket fuel to launch them. But Forsby might be wrong. As C.B. had always maintained, Lothar could still be working for the Soviets. If so, such secret devices for waging war as he obtained for them need not tie up. And an American H bomb, if he could get one out of the country, would be an invaluable prize to hand over to the Russians.

Barney got no further in his speculations. The car ahead had turned off the road on to a rough track. They followed and bumped along at a slower pace for about half a mile. The leading car pulled up in the shadow of a group of trees, and from them several figures emerged to meet it. Barney had already abandoned as too risky any idea of trying shock tactics against Lothar, but he felt now that whatever happened, even if Mary got into difficulties, it was his imperative duty to play up to the Satanist and stick to him like glue.

As the leading car bumped its way to a halt Mary was nerving herself to wait until Barney got out of the one behind, then shout to him, 'Run, run for your life! They've found you out and mean to kill you.' But Wash must have read the way in which her mind was working, for he said to her,

'You're all het up about Doctor Dee, aren't you, honey. I'd let you out of seeing him given his medicine if I could, but I just daren't. Not with the Great Ram around. And don't you try to give the Doc the tip-off that he's in danger. He couldn't get away, nohow. Before he'd gotten a dozen yards the Great Ram would halt him. Yeah, as surely as I could lasso a steer, but just by a thought wave. And any little game of that kind would end in curtains for you too.'

As he finished speaking he took a black satin mask from a pocket in the car, handed it to her and added, 'Put this on, and stay where you are till I come and fetch you.' Then he got out and strode over to join the group of figures that had come out from the trees.

For a moment hope surged up in her again. If they all went off together she meant to jump out and run for it, trusting to get away under cover of the darkness. If she succeeded there would at least be a chance of her finding a house from which she could telephone and secure help before Barney was murdered.

But the figures moved swiftly forward and met Wash while he was still within ten yards of the car. She could see now that there were five or six of them, and that they were all wearing monk-like robes with cowls that hid their features. The group remained where it had met Wash, talking with him, and with a sinking heart she knew that they were much too near for her to slip away without their seeing and catching her.

Meanwhile Lothar and Barney had got out of the other car; the latter with very mixed feelings, for he was now both intensely curious about the ceremony that was to take place, yet greatly concerned and anxious about Mary.

Going round to the boot Lothar unlocked it, then opened a large square leather case from which he took out and put on the ram's head-piece with the big curling horns, and a robe of black silk embroidered in gold with the signs of the Zodiac. Signing to Barney to accompany him, he then walked towards the group of cowled figures.

As he approached they all made a deep obeisance. A few words were exchanged after which, with the exception of Wash, the whole party moved off along a path that led in among the trees. Wash came back to the car, said to Mary, 'I'll be with you in a moment, honey,' then went round to the boot.

Two minutes later he reappeared, having put on over his uniform a robe of white satin, decorated with black twisting snakes, and wearing on his head a silver circlet from which reared up in front a striking cobra of the same metal with flashing red rubies for eyes. He opened the car door and Mary got out. Under the mask her face was chalk white, and she was trembling. He put his great hand under her arm to steady her and they followed the others along the path through the trees.

After a hundred yards or so the trees ended and beyond them there reared up against the dark night sky irregular patches of deeper blackness made by still-standing portions of the walls of the ruined Abbey. Between two of them a faint light glowed, which was just sufficient to show up the tangle of weeds and low bushes that had grown up among the ancient stones. Wash guided Mary through the gap and they entered the main body of the Abbey church. She saw then that the light came from the only part of the ruin that remained something more than piles of crumbling masonry overgrown with ivy. This was a still partially intact side chapel, and set up in it were thirteen tall black candles.

By their light she saw that above the far end of the chapel a jagged fragment of roof still hung suspended between two pillars with Norman capitals. Beneath it lay the altar, an oblong block of stone, broken at one end and raised on two worn steps. Below the steps to the left there was a three-foot high sarcophagus upon the lid of which lay the carved stone figures of a Crusader and his wife, but the images were so worn by time and exposure as to be hardly distinguishable from one another. On the opposite side was a blank wall with one small arched window in it through which the branch of a tree was growing.

As Mary stumbled forward, still half supported by Wash, she caught the stench of sulphur from the candles. Between them the mysterious figures moved, temporarily obscuring one or other of the candle flames as they took their places for the ceremony. Wash gave her a little shake and said in a low, sharp voice:

'Pep up now! For Pete's sake don't show yellow before the big shot. He'll give you a treatment else. Maybe cause all your hair to fall out as a penalty for not glorying in Our Lord Satan's work. We'll be through and on our way in an hour. Till then you gotta act as though you was one hundred per cent the eager neophyte.'

Her last hope of warning Barney had gone. The moment of his death was approaching with terrible rapidity. At the thought of the hideous scene that she would be forced to witness in a matter of minutes, she was on the verge of fainting. But quite suddenly her trembling ceased, the muscles of her limbs tautened, and she felt able to hold her head erect again. Instinctively she knew that this was due not to any change in her own mentality, but because the giant beside her was pouring some of his strength into her.

By then they had reached the wide open entrance to the chapel. The Great Ram was now standing to the right of the altar. Barney was standing, as he had been directed, facing and about six feet away from it. The twelve robed and cowled men who made up Wash's coven had formed two lines lower down the chapel and facing inwards. The two furthest from the altar were holding one a saxophone, the other an accordion. Wash led Mary up to the right of the altar, and signed to her to stand with her back to the Crusader's tomb. He then bowed to the Great Ram, stepped to the front of the altar, faced the congregation, and said,