e doors that led to the salon.
  'Quick!' urged the Duke. 'Mocata may come out to look for him  any
moment,'
  'Right.'  Rex,  bent double beneath his burden, plunged  down  the
last  stairs,  and De Richleau was already halfway across  the  half
when the dumb servant suddenly appeared from the vestibule.
  For  a  second  he stood there, his sallow face a  mask  of  blank
surprise  then, side-stepping the Duke with the agility of  a  rugby
forward,  he  lowered his bullet head and charged  Rex  with  silent
animal ferocity.
  'Got  you,'  snapped De Richleau, for although the man had  dodged
with  lightning  speed  he had caught his  wrist  in  passing.  Then
flinging his whole weight upon it as he turned, he jerked the fellow
clean  off his feet and sent him spinning head foremost against  the
wall.
  As  his head hit the panelling the mute gave an uncouth grunt, and
rolled  over  on  the floor, but he staggered up  again  and  dashed
towards  the salon. Rex and the Duke were already pounding down  the
tiled path and in another second they had flung themselves into  the
lane through the entrance in the garden wall.
  'Thank  God,' gasped the Duke as he wrenched open the door of  the
Hispano.  'I believe that hellish crew would have killed  us  rather
than let us get Simon out of there alive.'
  'Well, I suppose you do know what you're at,' Rex muttered  as  he
propped  Simon up on the back seat of the car. 'But I'm not  certain
you're safe to be with.'
  'Home,' ordered De Richleau curtly to the footman, who was  hiding
his  astonishment at their sudden exit by hastily  tucking  the  rug
over  their knees. Then he smiled at Rex a trifle grimly. 'I suppose
I do seem a little mad to you, but you can't possibly be expected to
appreciate  what a horribly serious business this is.  I'll  explain
later.'
  In  a  few  moments they had left the gloom of the  quiet  streets
behind  and  were  once more running through well-lit  ways  towards
Mayfair,  but  Simon was still unconscious when they  pulled  up  in
Curzon Street before Errol House.
  'I'll  take him,' volunteered Rex. The less the servants  have  to
do with this the better,' and picking up Simon in his strong arms as
though  he had been a baby, he carried him straight upstairs to  the
first floor where De Richleau's flat was situated.
  'Put  him in the library,' said the Duke, who had paused to murmur
something  about a sudden illness to the porter, when he arrived  on
the  landing a moment later. 'I'll get something to bring him  round
from the bathroom.'
  Rex  nodded  obediently, and carried Simon into that room  in  the
Curzon  Street fiat which was so memorable for those  who  had  been
privileged  to  visit it, not so much on account  of  its  size  and
decorations,  but  for the unique collection of rare  and  beautiful
objects which it contained. A Tibetan Buddha seated upon the  Lotus;
bronze figurines from ancient Greece; beautifully chased rapiers  of
Toledo  steel, and Moorish pistols inlaid with turquoise  and  gold;
ikons  from Holy Russia set with semi-precious stones and  curiously
carved ivories from the East.
  As  Rex laid Simon upon the wide sofa he glanced round him with an
interest unappeased by a hundred visits, at the walls lined shoulder
high  with  beautifully bound books, and at the  lovely  old  colour
prints,  interspersed with priceless historical documents and  maps,
which hung above them.
  De  Richleau, when he joined him, produced a small crystal  bottle
which  he  held beneath Simon's beak-like nose. 'No good  trying  to
talk  to  him tonight,' he remarked, 'but I want to bring him  round
sufficiently to put him to sleep again.
  Rex grunted. That sounds like double-dutch to me.'
  'No.  I mean to fight these devils with their own weapons, as  you
will see.'
  Simon  groaned a little, and as his eyes flickered open  the  Duke
took  a small round mirror from his pocket. 'Simon,' he said softly,
moving the lamp a little nearer, 'look upward at my hand.'
  As  he  spoke  De  Richleau held the mirror about eighteen  inches
from  Simon's forehead and a little above the level of his eyes,  so
that it caught and reflected the light of the lamp on to his lids.
  'Hold  it  lower,' suggested Rex. 'He'll strain his  eyes  turning
them upwards like that.'
  'Quiet,' said the Duke sharply. 'Simon, look up and listen to  me.
You  have  been hurt and have a troubled mind, but your friends  are
with you and you have no need to worry any more.'
  Simon  opened  his  eyes  again and turned  them  upwards  to  the
mirror, where they remained fixed.
  'I  am  going  to send you to sleep, Simon,' De Richleau  went  on
softly.  'You  need rest and you will awake free  from  pain.  In  a
moment your eyes will close and then your head will feel better.'
  For  another  half-minute he held the mirror  steadily  reflecting
the  light upon Simon's retina, then he placed the first and  second
fingers of his free hand upon the glass with his palm turned outward
and  made a slow pass from it towards the staring eyes, which closed
at once before he touched them.
  'You  will  sleep now,' he continued quietly, 'and  you  will  not
wake until ten o'clock tomorrow morning. Directly you awake you will
come  straight to me either here or in my bedroom and you will speak
to  no  one,  nor will you open any letter or message which  may  be
brought to you, until you have seen me.'
  De  Richleau paused for a moment, put down the mirror  and  lifted
one of Simon's arms until it stood straight above his head. When  he
released it the arm did not drop but remained stiff and rigid in the
air.
  'Most satisfactory,' he murmured cheerfully to Rex. 'He is in  the
second  stage  of hypnosis already and will do exactly  what  he  is
told.  The  induction was amazingly easy, but of course,  his  half-
conscious state simplified it a lot.'
  Rex  shook  his  head in disapproval. 'I don't  like  to  see  you
monkey with him like this. I wouldn't allow it if it was anyone  but
you.'
  'A   prejudice  based  upon  lack  of  understanding,  my  friend.
Hypnotism  in  proper  hands is the greatest healing  power  in  the
world.'  With  a quick shrug the Duke moved over to  his  desk  and,
unlocking one of the lower drawers, took something from it, then  he
returned to Simon and addressed him in the same low voice.
  'Open your eyes now and sit up.'
  Simon  obeyed at once and Rex was surprised to see that he  looked
quite wide awake and normal. Only a certain blankness about the face
betrayed  his  abnormal state, and he displayed no  aversion  as  De
Richleau extended the thing he had taken from the drawer. It  was  a
small  golden  swastika set with precious stones and threaded  on  a
silken ribbon.
  'Simon  Aron,' the Duke spoke again. 'With this symbol I am  about
to place you under the protection of the power of Light. No being or
force  of  Earth, or Air, of Fire, or Water can harm you  while  you
wear it.'
  With quick fingers he knotted the talisman round Simon's neck  and
went  on evenly: 'Now you will go to the spare bedroom. Ring for  my
man  Max  and  tell him that you are staying here tonight.  He  will
provide  you with everything you need and, if your throat is parched
from  your recent coma, ask him for any soft drink you wish, but  no
alcohol remember' Peace be upon you and about you. Now go.'
  Simon  stood up at once and looked from one to the other of  them.
'Good night,' he said cheerfully, with his quick natural smile. 'See
you both in the morning,' then he promptly walked out of the room.
  'He-he's  not  really asleep is he?' asked Rex, looking  a  little
scared.
  'Certainly,  but he will remember everything that has taken  place
tomorrow because he is not in the deep somnambulistic state where  I
could  order him to forget. To achieve that usually takes  a  little
practice with a new subject.'
  'Then  he'll  be  pretty livid I'll promise you. Fancy  hanging  a
Nazi swastika round the neck of a professing Jew.'
  'My  dear  Rex! Do please try and broaden your outlook  a  little.
The  swastika is the oldest symbol of wisdom and right  thinking  in
the  world.  It has been used by every race and in every country  at
some  time  or  other. You might just as well regard  the  Cross  as
purely  Christian, when we all know it was venerated in early Egypt,
thousands  of years before the birth of Christ. The Nazis have  only
adopted  the  swastika because it is supposed to be of Aryan  origin
and part of their programme aims at welding together a large section
of  the Aryan race. The vast majority of them have no conception  of
its  esoteric significance and even if they bring discredit upon it,
as  the  Spanish Inquisition did upon the Cross, that could have  no
effect upon its true meaning.'
  'Yes,  I get that, though I doubt if it'll make any difference  to
Simon's resentment when he finds it round his neck tomorrow.  Still,
that's  a  minor point. What worries me is this whole box of  tricks
this  evening.  I've  got a feeling you ought to  be  locked  up  as
downright insane, unless it's me.'
  De  Richleau smiled. 'A strange business to be happening in modern
London, isn't it? But let's mix a drink and talk it over quietly.'
  'Strange! Why, if it were true it would be utterly fantastic,  but
it's  not.  All this hooha about Black Magic and talking hocus-pocus
while you hang silly charms round Simon's neck is utter bunk.'
  'It  is?'  The Duke smiled again as he tipped a lump of  ice  into
Rex's glass and handed it to him. 'Well, let's hear your explanation
of  Simon's  queer behaviour. I suppose you do consider that  it  is
queer by the way?'
  'Of  course,  but nothing like as queer as you're trying  to  make
out.  As I see it Simon's taken up spiritualism or something of  the
kind  and plenty of normal earnest people believe in that,  but  you
know  what he is when he gets keen on a thing, everything else  goes
to,, the wall and that's why he has neglected you a bit.
  'Then  this  evening  he was probably sick  as  mud  to  miss  our
dinner,  but had a seance all fixed that he couldn't shelve  at  the
last  moment. We butt in on his party, and naturally he doesn't care
to  admit  what he's up to entertaining all those queer, odd-looking
women  and  men,  so he spins a yarn about it being an  astronomical
society. So you-who've read a sight too many books-and seem to  have
stored  up  all  the old wives' tales your nurse told  you  in  your
cradle-get  a  bee in your bonnet and slog the poor  mut  under  the
jaw.'
  De  Richleau nodded. 'I can hardly expect you to see it any  other
way  at  the moment, but let's start at the beginning. Do you  agree
that  after knocking him out I called into play a supernormal  power
in  order  to  send  him  cheerfully off to  bed  without  a  single
protest?'
  'Yes,  even  the doctors admit hypnotic influence now,  and  Simon
would never have stood for you tying that swastika under his chin if
he'd been conscious.'
  'Good.  Then  at  least  we are at one on the  fact  that  certain
forces  can  be called into play which the average person  does  not
understand. Now, if instead of practising that comparatively  simple
exercise in front of you, I had done it before ignorant natives, who
had  never heard of hypnotism, they would terra it magic, would they
not?'
  'Sure.'
  Then  to go a step further. If, by a greater exertion of the  same
power,  I  levitated, that is to say, lifted myself to a  height  of
several inches from this floor, you might not use the word magic but
you  would  class  that feat in the same category  as  the  ignorant
native would place the easier one, because it is something which you
have always thought impossible.'
  That's true.'
  'Well,  I  am not sufficient of an adept to perform the feat,  but
will you accept my assurances that I've seen it done, not once,  but
a number of times?'
  'If  you  say  so, but from all I've heard about such things,  the
fellows  you  saw didn't leave the ground at all. It  is  just  mass
hypnotism exercised upon the whole audience-like the rope trick.'
  'As  you  wish, but that explanation does not rob me of my  point.
If  you admit that I can tap an unknown power to make Simon obey  my
will,  and  that  an Eastern mystic can tap that power  to  the  far
greater  extent of making a hundred people's eyes deceive them  into
believing that he is standing on thin air, you admit that there is a
power and that it can be tapped in greater degrees according to  the
knowledge and proficiency of the man who uses it.'
  'Yes, within limits.'
  'Why   within  limits?  You  apparently  consider  levitation   im
possible,  but  wouldn't you have considered wireless impossible  if
you had been living fifty years ago and somebody had endeavoured  to
convince you of it?'
  'Maybe.'  Rex sat forward suddenly. 'But I don't get  what  you're
driving  at. Hypnotism is only a demonstration of the power  of  the
human will.'
  'Ah!  There  you have it. The will to good and the will  to  evil.
That  is  the whole matter in a nutshell. The human will is  like  a
wireless  set and properly adjusted-trained that is-it can  tune  in
with the invisible influence which is all about us.'
  'The   Invisible  Influence.  I've  certainly  heard  that  phrase
somewhere before.'
  'No  doubt.  A  very eminent mental specialist who  holds  a  high
position in our asylums wrote a book with that title and I have  not
yet asked you to believe one tenth of what he vouches for.'
  'Then I wonder they haven't locked him up.'
  'Rex!  Rex!' De Richleau smiled a little sadly. Try and open  your
mind,  my friend. Do you believe in the miracles performed by  Jesus
Christ?'
  'Yes.'
  'And of His Disciples and certain of the Saints?'
  'Sure,  but  they had some special power granted to them  from  on
high.'
  'Exactly!  Some Special Power. But I suppose you would  deny  that
Gautama  Buddha and his disciples performed miracles  of  a  similar
nature?'
  'Not  at  all.  Most people agree now that Buddha was  a  sort  of
Indian  Christ, a Holy Man, and no doubt he had some sort  of  power
granted to him too.'
  The  Duke sat back with a heavy sigh. 'At last my friend  we  seem
to  be  getting somewhere. If you admit that miracles, as  you  call
them  although you object to the word magic, have been performed  by
two  men living in different countries hundreds of years apart,  and
that  even their disciples were able to tap a similar power  through
their  holiness, you cannot reasonably deny that other mystics  have
also  performed  similar  acts in many  portions  of  the  globe-and
therefore,  that there is a power existing outside us which  is  not
peculiar  to any religion, but can be utilised if one can  get  into
communication with it,'
  Rex laughed. That's so, I can't deny it.'
  'Thank  God! Let's mix ourselves another drink shall  we,  I  need
it?'
  'Don't  move,  I'll fix it.' Rex good-naturedly scrambled  to  his
feet.  'All  the  same,' he added slowly, 'it  doesn't  follow  that
because  a number of good men have been granted supernatural  powers
that there is anything in Black Magic.'
  'Then you do not believe in Witchcraft?'
  'Of course not, nobody does in these days.'
  'Really!  How  long do you think it is since the  last  trial  for
Witchcraft took place?'
  'I'll say it was all of a hundred and fifty years ago.'
  'No, it was in January, 1926, at Melun near Paris.'
  'Oh! You're fooling!' Rex exclaimed angrily.
  'I'm  not,' De Richleau assured him solemnly. The records  of  the
court  will  prove my statement, so you see you are hardly  accurate
when  you say that nobody believes in Witchcraft in these days,  and
many many thousands still believe in a personal devil.'
  'Yes, simple folk maybe, but not educated people.'
  'Possibly  not, yet every thinking man must admit  that  there  is
still such a thing as the power of Evil.'
  'Why?'
  'My  dear  fellow, all qualities have their opposites,  like  love
and  hate, pleasure and pain, generosity and avarice. How  could  we
recognise  the  goodness of Jesus Christ, Lao  Tze,  Ashoka,  Marcus
Aurelius,  Francis of Assisi, Florence Nightingale  and  a  thousand
others  if  it were not for the evil lives of Herod, Caesar  Borgia,
Rasputin, Landru, Ivan Kreuger and the rest?'
  That's true,' Rex admitted slowly.
  'Then  if  an  intensive  cultivation of good  can  beget  strange
powers  is  there  any reason why an intensive cultivation  of  evil
should not beget them also?'
  'I think I begin to get what you're driving at.'
  'Good!  Now listen, Rex.' The Duke leaned forward earnestly.  'And
I  will  try and expound what little I know of the Esoteric Doctrine
which  has come down to us through the ages. You will have heard  of
the Persian myth of Ozamund and Ahriman, the eternal powers of Light
and  Darkness, said to be co-equal and warring without cessation for
the   good   or  ill  of  mankind.  All  ancient  sun   and   nature
worship-festivals  of  spring  and  so  on,  were  only  an  outward
expression  of  that  myth, for Light typifies  Health  and  Wisdom,
Growth  and Life; while Darkness means Disease and Ignorance,  Decay
and Death.
  'In  its  highest sense Light symbolises the growth of the  Spirit
towards  that  perfection in which it can throw  off  the  body  and
become light itself; but the road to perfection is long and arduous,
too  much  to hope for in one short human life, hence the widespread
belief in re-incarnation; that we are born again and again until  we
begin to despise the pleasures of the flesh. This doctrine is so old
that  no man can trace its origin, yet it is the inner core of truth
common to all religions at their inception. Consider the teaching of
Jesus Christ with that in mind and you will be amazed that you  have
not  realised before the true purport of His message. Did He not say
that  the  'Kingdom of God was within us,' and, when He walked  upon
the  waters declared: 'These things that I do ye shall do also;  and
greater things than these shall ye do, for I go unto my Father which
is   in  Heaven,'  meaning  most  certainly  that  He  had  achieved
perfection  but that others had the same power within  each  one  of
them to do likewise.'
  De  Richleau  paused for a moment and then went  on  more  slowly.
'Unfortunately the hours of the night are still equal to  the  hours
of the day, and so the power of Darkness is no less active than when
the  world  was young, and no sooner does a fresh Master  appear  to
reveal the light than ignorance, greed, and lust for power cloud the
minds  of  his  followers.  The message becomes  distorted  and  the
simplicity  of  the truth submerged and forgotten  in  the  pomp  of
ceremonies and the meticulous performance of rituals which have lost
their  meaning.  Yet  the  real truth is never  entirely  lost,  and
through the centuries new Masters are continually arising either  to
proclaim  it  or, if the time is not propitious, to pass  it  on  in
secret to the chosen few.
  'Apollonius  of  Tyana  learned it  in  the  East.  The  so-called
Heretics  whom we know as the Albigenses preached it in the  twelfth
century  through  Southern  France  until  they  were  exterminated.
Christian  Rosenkreutz  had  it in  the  Middle  Ages.  It  was  the
innermost  secret of the Order of the Templars who  were  suppressed
because  of it by the Church of Rome. The Alchemists, too,  searched
for  and  practised  it.  Only  the ignorant  take  literally  their
struggle  to find the Elixir of Life. Behind such phrases,  designed
to  protect them from the persecution of their enemies, they  sought
Eternal  Life, and their efforts to transmute base metals into  gold
were only symbolical of their transfusion of matter into light.  And
still  to-day while the night life of London goes on about us  there
are  mystics  and  adepts  who  are seeking  the  Eightfold  Way  to
perfection in many corners of the Earth.'
  'You really believe that?' asked Rex seriously.
  'I  do.' De Richleau's answer held no trace of doubt. 'I give  you
my  word  Rex,  that I have talked with men whose sanity  you  would
never question, an Englishman, an Italian, and a Hindu, all three of
whom  have  been taken by guides sent to fetch them  to  the  hidden
valley in the uplands of Tibet, where some of the Lamas have reached
such  a  high  degree of enlightenment that they can  prolong  their
lives  at  will, and perform today all the miracles which  you  have
read of in the Bible. It is there that the sacred fire of truth  has
been  preserved for centuries, safe from the brutal mercenary  folly
of our modern world.'
  That  sounds  a  pretty tall story to me, but  granted  there  are
mystics who have achieved such amazing powers through their holiness
I still don't see where your Black Magic comes in?'
  'Let's  not  talk  of  Black Magic, which is associated  with  the
preposterous  in  our day, but of the order of the Left  Hand  Path.
That,  too,  has its adepts and, just as the Yoga of Tibet  are  the
preservers  of the Way of Light, the Way of Darkness is  exemplified
in  the horrible Voodoo cult which had its origin in Madagascar  and
has  held Africa in its grip for centuries, spreading even with  the
slave trade to the West Indies and your own country.'
  'Yes, I know quite a piece about that, the Negroes monkey with  it
still  back  home  in  the Southern States, despite  their  apparent
Christianity.  Still I can't think that an educated man  like  Simon
would take serious notice of that Mumbo Jumbo stuff.'
  'Not  in  its  crude form perhaps, but others have cultivated  the
power  of  Evil,  and among whites it is generally the  wealthy  and
intellectual,  who are avaricious for greater riches  or  power,  to
whom  it  appeals. In the Paris of Louis XIV, long after the  Middle
Ages  were  forgotten,  it  was  still  particularly  rampant.   The
poisoner,  La  Voisin,  was  proved to have  procured  over  fifteen
hundred  children  for the infamous Abbe Guibourg  to  sacrifice  at
Black  Masses. He used to cut their throats, drain the blood into  a
chalice,  and  then pour it over the naked body of the inquirer  who
lay  stretched upon the altar. I speak of actual history,  Rex,  and
you  can  read the records of the trial that followed in  which  two
hundred  and forty-six men and women were indicted for these hellish
practices.'
  'Maybe.  It  sounds ghastly enough but that's a mighty  long  time
ago.'
  'Then,  if you need more modern evidence of its continuance hidden
in  our  midst  there  is  the  well authenticated  case  of  Prince
Borghese.  He let his Venetian Palazzo on a long lease, expiring  as
late  as  1895. The tenants had not realised that the lease had  run
out  until  he notified them of his intention to resume  possession.
They  protested, but Borghese's agents forced an entry. What do  you
think they found?'
  'Lord knows.' Rex shook his head.
  'That  the  principal salon had been redecorated at enormous  cost
and  converted  into  a  Satanic Temple. The walls  were  hung  from
ceiling  to  floor with heavy curtains of silk damask,  scarlet  and
black  to  exclude the light; at the farther end there  stretched  a
large  tapestry  upon which was woven a colossal figure  of  Lucifer
dominating  the  whole. Beneath, an altar had been built  and  amply
furnished  with  the whole liturgy of Hell; black candles,  vessels,
rituals,  nothing  was lacking. Cushioned prie-dieus  and  luxurious
chairs, crimson and gold, were set in order for the assistants,  and
the  chamber lit with electricity fantastically arranged so that  it
should glare through an enormous human eye.'
  De  Richleau hammered the desk with his clenched fist. 'These  are
facts  I'm giving you Rex-facts, d'you hear, things I can  prove  by
eye-witnesses still living. Despite our electricity, our aeroplanes,
our  modern  scepticism, the power of Darkness  is  still  a  living
force, worshipped by depraved human beings for their unholy ends  in
the great cities of Europe and America to this very day.'
  Rex's  face  had  suddenly paled under its tan.  'And  you  really
think poor Simon has got mixed up in this beastliness?'
  'I  know  it man! Could you have been so intrigued with  the  girl
that you did not notice the rest of that foul crew? The Albino,  the
man  with the hare-lip, the Eurasian who only possessed a left  arm.
They're Devil Worshippers all of them.'
  'Not  the  girl! Not Tanith!' cried Rex, springing  to  his  feet.
'She must have been drawn into it like Simon.'
  'Perhaps, but the final proof lay in that basket. They were  about
to  practise the age-old sacrifice to their infernal master just  as
your  Voodoo-ridden Negroes do. The slaughter of a black cock and  a
white  hen-Yes. What is it?' De Richleau swung round as a soft knock
came on the door.
  'Excellency.' His man Max stood bowing in the doorway, 'I  thought
I  had better bring this to you.' In his open palm he displayed  the
jewelled swastika.
  With  one  panther-like  spring the  Duke  thrust  him  aside  and
bounded  from  the room. 'Simon,' he shouted as he dashed  down  the
corridor. 'Simon! I command you to stay still.' But when he  reached
the  bedroom the only signs that Simon had ever occupied it were the
tumbled bed and his underclothes left scattered on the floor.


                                  4

                          The Silent House

  De  Richleau  strode  back into the sitting-room.  His  grey  eyes
glittered  dangerously but his voice was gentle  as  he  picked  the
jewelled swastika from his servant's palm. 'How did you come by this
Max?'
  'I removed it from Mr. Aron's neck Excellency.'
  'What!'
  'He  rang for me Excellency and said that he would like a  cup  of
bouillon  and  when  I  returned with it he  was  sleeping,  but  so
strangely that I was alarmed. His tongue was protruding from between
his  teeth and his face was nearly black; then I saw that  his  neck
was  terribly swollen and that a ribbon was cutting deeply into  his
flesh.  I  cut  the  ribbon, fearing that he would  choke-the  jewel
dropped off, so I brought it straight to you.'
  'All right! you may go-and it is unnecessary to wait up- I may  be
late.'  As the door closed the Duke swung round towards Rex.  'Simon
must  have woken the moment Max's back was turned, pulled on  a  few
clothes, then slipped out of the window and down the fire-escape.
  'Sure,' Rex agreed. 'He's well on his way back to St. John's  Wood
by now.;
  'Come  on-we'll  follow. We've got to save him from  those  devils
somehow. I don't know what they're after but there must be something
pretty  big and very nasty behind all this. It can't have been  easy
to  involve a man like Simon to the extent they obviously have,  and
they  would  never  have  gone to all that  trouble  to  recruit  an
ordinary dabbler in the occult. They are after really big stakes  of
some kind, and they need him as a pawn in their devilish game.'
  'Think  we  can beat him to it?' Rex asked as they  ran  down  the
staircase of the block and out into Curzon Street.
  'I doubt it-Hi, taxi!' De Richleau waved an arm.
  'He can't have more than five minutes' start.'
  'Too  much in a fifteen minutes' run.' The Duke's voice  was  grim
as they climbed into the cab.
  'What d'you figure went amiss?'
  'I  don't  know for certain, but there is no doubt that  our  poor
friend is completely under Mocata's influence-has been for months  I
expect. In such a case Mocata's power over him would be far stronger
than my own which was only exercised, in the hope of protecting him,
for  the  first  time tonight. It was because I feared  that  Mocata
might  countermand my orders, even from a distance, and compel Simon
to return that I placed the symbol of Light round his neck.'
  'And when Max took it off Mocata got busy on him eh?'
  'I  think  Mocata  was at work before that. He probably  witnessed
everything  that  took place in a crystal or through  a  medium  and
exerted all his powers to cause Simon's neck to swell the moment  he
got into bed, hoping to break the ribbon that held the charm.'
  Rex  had  not yet quite recovered from the shock of learning  that
so  sane  a man as De Richleau could seriously believe in  all  this
gibberish  about  the Occult. He was very far from  being  convinced
himself, but he refrained from airing his scepticism and instead, as
the  taxi  rattled north through Baker Street, he began to  consider
the practical side of their expedition. There had been eight men  at
least  in  Simon's house when they left it. He glanced  towards  the
Duke. 'Are you carrying a gun?'
  'No, and if I were it would be useless.'
  'Holy  Smoke! You are bats or else I am.' Rex shrugged  his  broad
shoulders  and  began  to wonder if he was not living  through  some
particularly  vivid and horrible dream. Soon he would wake  perhaps;
sweating  a little from the nightmare picture which De Richleau  had
drawn  for him of age-old evil, tireless and vigilant, cloaked  from
the  masses  by modern scepticism yet still a potent force  stalking
the  dark  ways  of  the night, conjured into new  life  by  strange
delvers into ancient secrets for their unhallowed ends; but wake  he
must, to the bright, clear day and Simon's chuckle-over a tankard of
Pim's  cup  at  luncheon-that such fantastic nonsense should  centre
about him even in a dream. Yet there was Tanith, so strange and wise
and  beautiful,  looking as though she had just  stepped  out  of  a
painting by some great master of the Italian Renaissance. It was  no
dream  that  he  had at last actually met and spoken with  her  that
evening at Simon's house, among all those queer people whom the Duke
declared so positively to be Satan worshippers; and if she was flesh
and blood they must be too.
  On  the  north side of Lord's cricket ground, De Richleau  stopped
the  taxi. 'Better walk the rest of the way,' he murmured as he paid
off the man. 'Simon's arrived by now and it would be foolish to warn
them of our coming.'
  'Thought  you said Mocata was overlooking us with the  evil  eye?'
Rex replied as they hurried along Circus Road.
  'He  may  be.  I can't say, but possibly he thinks we would  never
dare  risk a second visit to the house tonight. If we exercise every
precaution  we may catch him off his guard. He's just as  vulnerable
as  any  other human being except when he is actually employing  his
special powers.'
  Side  by side they passed through two streets where the low  roofs
of  the  old-fashioned houses were only faintly  visible  above  the
walls that kept them immune from the eyes of the curious, each  set,
silent and vaguely mysterious, among its whispering trees; then they
entered the narrow, unlit cul-de-sac.
  Treading carefully now, they covered the two hundred yards to  its
end  and halted, gazing up at the darkened mass of the upper stories
which loomed above the high wall. Not a chink of light betrayed that
the  house  was  tenanted, although they knew that, apart  from  the
servants,  thirteen  people had congregated there  to  perform  some
strange midnight ceremony little over an hour before.
  'Think they've cleared out?' Rex whispered.
  'I  doubt it.' The Duke stepped forward and tried the narrow door.
It was fast locked.
  'Can't we call the police in to raid the place?'
  De  Richleau shrugged impatiently. 'What could we charge them with
that a modem station-sergeant would understand?'
  'Kidnapping!  ' Rex urged below his breath, 'If I were  back  home
I'd  have the strong arm squad here in under half an hour.  Get  the
whole  bunch pinched and gaoled pending trial. They'd be out of  the
way  then  for  a  bit,  even  if I had  to  pay  up  heavy  damages
afterwards-and meantime we'd pop Simon in a mental home till he  got
his wits back.'
  'Rex!  Rex!'  The  Duke gave a low, delighted  chuckle.  'It's  an
enchanting  idea, and if we were in the States I really  believe  we
might pull it off-but here it's impossible.'
  'What do you figure to do then?'
  'Go in and see if Simon has returned.'
  'I'm game, but the odds are pretty heavy.'
  'If we're caught we must run for it.'
  'O.K.,  but  if  we  fail to make our get-away  they'll  call  the
police and have us gaoled for housebreaking.'
  'No-no,'  De  Richleau  muttered. They  won't  want  to  draw  the
attention of the police to then- activities, and the one thing  that
matters is to get Simon out of here.'
  'All  right.' Rex placed his hands on his knees, and stooping  his
great shoulders, leaned his head against the wall. 'Up you go.'
  The  Duke  bent towards him. 'Listen!' he whispered.  'Once  we're
inside we've got to stick together whatever happens. God knows  what
they've used this house of Simon's for, but the whole place reeks of
evil.'
  'Oh shucks!' Rex muttered contemptuously.
  'I  mean it,' De Richleau insisted. 'If you take that attitude I'd
rather  go  in alone. This is the most dangerous business I've  ever
been  up  against, and if it wasn't for the thought of Simon nothing
on  earth would tempt me to go over this wall in the middle  of  the
night.'
  'Oh-all right. Have it your own way.'
  'You'll obey me implicitly-every word I say?'
  'Yes, don't fret yourself ...'
  'Good, and remember you are to bolt for it the instant I give  the
word,  because the little knowledge that I possess may only  protect
us  for  a  very fleeting space of time.' The Duke clambered  on  to
Rex's  shoulders and heaved himself up on to the coping. Rex stepped
back  a  few  yards  and  took a flying leap;  next  second  he  had
scrambled up beside De Richleau. For a moment they both sat  astride
the  wall  peering  down into the shadows of the garden,  then  they
dropped silently into a flower-border on the other side.
  'The  first  thing is to find a good line of retreat  in  case  we
have to get out in a hurry,' breathed the Duke.
  'What  about this?' Rex whispered back, slapping the  trunk  of  a
well-grown laburnum tree.
  De  Richleau nodded silently. One glance assured him that with the
aid of the lower branches two springs would bring them to the top of
the wall. Then he moved at a quick, stealthy run across a small open
space of lawn to the shelter of some bushes that ran round the  side
of the house.
  From their new cover Rex surveyed the side windows. No glimmer  of
light  broke  the expanse of the rambling old mansion. As  the  Duke
moved on, he followed, until the bushes ended at the entrance  of  a
back yard, evidently giving on to the kitchen quarters.
  'Have  a care,' he whispered, jerking De Richleau's sleeve.  'They
may have a dog.'
  'They  couldn't,' replied the Duke positively. 'Dogs  are  simple,
friendly  creatures but highly psychic. The vibrations  in  a  place
where  Black Magic was practised would cause any dog to bolt  for  a
certainty.' With light, quick, padding steps he crossed the yard and
came 'out into the garden on the far side of the house.
  Here  too  every  window was shrouded in darkness and  an  uncanny
stillness brooded over the place.
  'I  don't like it,' whispered De Richleau. 'Simon can't have  been
back  more  than a quarter of an hour at the outside-so there  ought
still  to be lights in the upper rooms. Anyhow, it looks at  if  the
others  have  gone  home,  which is something-  we  must  chance  an
ambush.'
  He  pointed to a narrow, ground floor window. 'That's probably the
lavatory,   and   most  people  forget  to  close   their   lavatory
windows-come on!'
  Silently Rex followed him across the grass, then gripping  him  by
the  knees, heaved him up until he was well above the level  of  the
sill.
  The  sash creaked, the upper half of the window slid down, and the
Duke's head and shoulders disappeared inside.
  For  a  moment  Rex  watched his wriggling  legs,  heard  a  bump,
followed by a muffled oath, and then clambered up on to the sill.
  'Hurt  yourself?' he whispered, as De Richleau's face appeared,  a
pale blot in the darkness.
  'Not  much-though this sort of thing is not amusing for a  man  of
my age. The door here is unlocked, thank goodness.'
  Immediately Rex was inside, the Duke squatted down on  the  floor.
Take off your shoes,' he ordered. 'And your socks.'
  'Shoes  if  you  like, though we'll hurt our feet if  we  have  to
run-but why the socks?'
  'Don't argue-we waste time.'
  'Well-what now?' Rex muttered after a moment.
  'Put your shoes on again and the socks over them-then you can  run
as fast as you like.' As Rex obeyed the Duke went on in a low voice.
'Not  a  sound  now. I really believe the others have gone,  and  if
Mocata  is not lying in wait for us, we may be able to get  hold  of
Simon.  If  we  come up against that black servant, for  God's  sake
remember not to look at his eyes.'
  With  infinite  care he opened the door and peered  out  into  the
darkened hall. A faint light from an upper window showed the  double
doors that led to the salon standing wide open. He listened intently
for  a moment, then slipping out stood aside for Rex to follow,  and
gently closed the door behind them.
  Their footsteps, now muffled by the socks, were barely audible  as
they  stole  across the stretch of parquet. When  they  reached  the
salon  De  Richleau carefully drew aside a blind. The dim  starlight
was  just  sufficient to show the outlines of the gilded  furniture,
and  they could make out plates and glasses left scattered upon  the
buhl and marquetry tables.
  Rex  picked up a goblet two-thirds full of champagne and  held  it
so that the Duke could see the wine still in it.
  De  Richleau  nodded.  The Irish Bard, the Albino,  the  one-armed
Eurasian, the hare-lipped man and the rest of that devilish  company
must  have taken fright when he and Rex had forcibly abducted Simon,
and  fled,  abandoning their unholy operations  for  the  night.  He
gently replaced the blind and they crept back into the hall.
  One  other  door  opened  off it besides those  to  the  servants'
quarters  and the vestibule. De Richleau slowly turned the knob  and
pressed. The room was a small library, and at the far end a pair  of
uncurtained french-windows showed the garden, ghostly and mysterious
in  the  starlight. Leaving Rex by the door, the Duke tiptoed across
the  room, drew the bolts, opened the windows and propped them wide.
>From where he stood he could just make out the laburnum by the wall.
A  clear retreat was open to them now. He turned, then halted with a
sharp intake of breath. Rex had disappeared.
  'Rex!' he hissed in a loud whisper, gripped by a sudden nameless
fear. 'Rex!' But there was no reply.


                                  5

                            Embodied Evil

  De  Richleau  had been involved in so many strange  adventures  in
his  long and chequered career, that instinctively his hand flew  to
the  pocket  where he kept his automatic at such times, but  it  was
flat-and in a fraction of time it had come back to him that this was
no  affair of shootings and escapes, but a grim struggle against the
Power  of  Darkness-in which their only protection must be an  utter
faith  in  the ultimate triumph of good, and the use of such  little
power  as  he possessed to bring into play the great forces  of  the
Power of Light.
  In  two  strides  he  had reached the door, grabbed  the  electric
switch,  and  pressed it as he cried in ringing  tones:  'Fundamenta
ejus in montibus sanctis!'
  'What the hell!' exclaimed Rex as the light flashed on. He was  at
the  far  side of the hall, carefully constructing a booby  trap  of
chairs  and  china  in front of the door that led to  the  servants'
quarters.
  'You've  done  it now,' he added, with his eyes riveted  upon  the
upper landing, but nothing stirred and the pall of silence descended
upon  the  place again until they could hear each other's  quickened
breathing.
  'The  house is empty,' Rex declared after a moment. 'If there were
anyone here they'd have been bound to hear you about. It echoed from
the cellars to the attics.'
  De  Richleau was regarding him with an angry stare. 'You  madman,'
he snapped. 'Don't you understand what we're up against? We must not
separate  for  an  instant in this unholy place-even  now  that  the
lights are on.'
  Rex  smiled.  He  had  always considered  the  Duke  as  the  most
fearless man he knew, and to see him in such a state of nerves was a
revelation.  'I'm not scared of bogeys, but I am of  being  shot  up
from  behind,' he said simply. 'I was fixing this so we'd  hear  the
servants  if  there was trouble upstairs and they came  up  to  help
Mocata.'
  'Yes,  but honestly, Rex, it is imperative that we should keep  as
near  each other as possible every second we remain in this  ghastly
house.  It  may sound childish, but I ought to h