ave told you  before
that if anything queer does happen we must actually hold hands. That
will  quadruple  our resistance to evil by attuning  our  vibrations
towards  good.  Now let's go upstairs and see if  they  have  really
gone-though I can hardly doubt it.'
  Rex  followed marvelling. This man who was frightened  of  shadows
and  talked  of  holding hands at a time of danger  was  so  utterly
different  to  the De Richleau that he knew. Yet as he  watched  the
Duke  mounting the stairs in swift, panther-like, noiseless  strides
he  felt that since he was so scared this midnight visitation was  a
fresh demonstration of his courage.
  On  the floor above they made a quick examination of the bedrooms,
but  all of them were unoccupied and none of the beds had been slept
in.
  'Mocata  must  have sent the rest of them away  and  been  waiting
here  with  a  car to whisk Simon off immediately he got  back,'  De
Richleau declared as they came out of the last room.
  'That's  about  it,  so we may as well clear  out.'  Rex  shivered
slightly as he added: 'It's beastly cold up here.'
  'I  was  wondering whether you'd notice that, but we're not  going
home yet. This is a God-given opportunity to search the house at our
leisure. We may discover all sorts of interesting things. Leave  all
the lights on here, the more the better, and come downstairs.'
  In  the  salon  the great buffet table still lay spread  with  the
excellent collation which they had seen there on their first  visit.
The  Duke  walked over to it and poured himself a glass of wine.  'I
see  Simon  has taken to Cliquot again,' he observed. 'He alternates
between  that and Bollinger with remarkable consistency,  though  in
certain years I prefer Pol Roger to either when it has a little  age
on it.'
  As  Rex  spooned a slab of Duck & la Montmorency on  to  a  plate,
helping  himself liberally in the foie gras mousse and cherries,  he
wondered  if De Richleau had really recovered from the extraordinary
agitation that he had displayed a quarter of an hour before,  or  if
he  was  talking  so casually to cover his secret apprehensions.  He
hated  to  admit  it even to himself, but there was something  queer
about  the  house, a chill seemed to be spreading up his  legs  from
beneath  the  heavily-laden  table, and the  silence  was  strangely
oppressive. Anxious to get on with the business and out of the place
now,  he  said quickly. 'I don't give two hoots what he drinks,  but
where has Mocata gone-and why?'
  'The last question is simple.' De Richleau set down his glass  and
drew  out the case containing the famous Hoyo de Monterrey's. 'There
are  virtually no laws against the practice of Black Magic  in  this
country now. Only that of 1842, called the Rogues and Vagabonds Act,
under which a person may be prosecuted for 'pretending or professing
to  tell Fortunes, by using any subtle Craft, Means or Device!"  But
since  the  practitioners  of  it are  universally  evil,  the  Drug
Traffic, Blackmail, Criminal Assault and even Murder are often mixed
up  with it, and for one of those reasons Mocata, having learnt that
we  were  on our way here through his occult powers, feared a  brawl
might  attract  the  attention  of the  police  to  his  activities.
Evidently he considered discretion the better part of valour on this
occasion  and  temporarily abandoned the place to us-  taking  Simon
with him.'
  'Not  very logical-are you?' Rex commented. 'One moment  it's  you
who're scared that he may do all sorts of strange things to us,  and
the  next  you  tell me that he's bolted for fear of  being  slogged
under the jaw.'
  'My  dear fellow, I can only theorise. I'm completely in the  dark
myself.  Some  of  these followers of the Left Hand  Path  are  mere
neophytes who can do little more than wish evil in minor matters  on
people  they  dislike. Others are adepts and can set in  motion  the
most violent destructive forces which are not yet even suspected  by
our modern scientists.
  'If  Mocata only occupies a low place in the hierarchy we can deal
with him as we would any other crook with little risk of any serious
danger  to ourselves, but if he is a Master he may be able to strike
us  blind  or  dead.  Unfortunately I know  little  enough  of  this
horrible business, only the minor rituals of the Right Hand Path, or
White Magic as people call it, which may protect us hi an emergency.
If  only I knew more I might be able to find out where he has  taken
Simon.'
  'Cheer  up-we'll find him.' Rex laughed as he set down his  plate,
but  the sound echoed eerily through the deserted house, causing him
to  glance  swiftly over his shoulder in the direction of the  still
darkened inner room. 'What's the next move?' he asked more soberly.
  'We've  got to try and find Simon's papers. If we can, we  may  be
able to get the real names and addresses of some of those people who
were here tonight. Let's try the Library first-bring the bottle with
you. I'll take the glasses.'
  'What  d'you  mean-real names?' Rex questioned as he  followed  De
Richleau across the hall.
  'Why,  you don't suppose that incredible old woman with the parrot
beak  was really called Madame D'Urfe-do you? That's only a  nom-du-
Diable,  taken  when  she  was re-baptised,  and  adopted  from  the
Countess of that name, who was a notorious witch in Louis XV's time.
All  the others are the same. Didn't you realise the meaning of  the
name your lovely lady calls herself by-Tanith?'
  'No.'  Rex hesitated. 'I thought she was just a foreigner-  that's
all.'
  'Dear  me. Well, Tanith was the Moon Goddess of the Carthaginians.
Thousands of years earlier the Egyptians called her Isis, and in the
intervening  stage  she  was known to the Phoenicians  as  the  Lady
Astoroth.  They  worshipped her in sacred groves  where  doves  were
sacrificed  and unmentionable scenes of licentiousness  took  place.
The  God  Adonis was her lover, and the people wept for his mythical
death  each  year, believing upon him as a Redeemer of  Mankind.  As
they went in processions to her shrines they wrought themselves into
the wildest frenzy, and to slake the thwarted passion of the widowed
goddess,  gashed themselves with knives. Sir George Frazer's  Golden
Bough  will tell you all about it, but the blood that was shed still
lives,  Rex,  and  she  has  been thirsty  through  these  Christian
centuries  for  more.  Eleven words of  power,  each  having  eleven
letters,  twice  pronounced in a fitting time and  place  after  due
preparation, and she would stand before you, terrible in her beauty,
demanding a new sacrifice.'
  Even  Rex's  gay  modernity was not proof  against  that  sinister
declaration.  De  Richleau's  voice held  no  trace  of  the  gentle
cynicism which was so characteristic of him, but seemed to ring with
the  positiveness  of  some  horrible  secret  truth.  He  shuddered
slightly as the Duke began to pull open the drawers of Simon's desk.
  All  except one, which was locked, held letter files, and a  brief
examination  of  these  showed  that  they  contained  nothing   but
accounts,  receipts,  and correspondence of  a  normal  nature.  Rex
forced  the remaining drawer with a heavy steel paper knife, but  it
only held cheque book counterfoils and bundles of dividend warrants,
so  they turned their attention to the long shelves of books. It was
possible  that  Simon  might have concealed certain  private  papers
behind his treasured collection of modern first editions, but  after
ten minutes' careful search they assured themselves that nothing  of
interest was hidden at the back of the neat rows of volumes.
  Having drawn a blank in the library, they proceeded to the other
downstairs rooms, going systematically through every drawer and
cabinet, but without result. Then they moved upstairs and tried the
bedrooms, yet here again they could discover nothing which might not
have been found in any normal house, nor was there any safe in which
important documents might have been placed.
  During the search De Richleau kept Rex constantly beside him, and
Rex was not altogether sorry. Little by little the atmosphere of the
place was getting him down, and more than once he had the unpleasant
sensation that somebody was watching him covertly from behind,
although he told himself that it was pure imagination, due entirely
to De Richleau's evident belief in the supernatural, of which they
had been talking all the evening.
  'These people must, have left traces of their doings in this
house somewhere," declared the Duke angrily as they came out of the
last bedroom on to the landing, 'and I'm determined to find them.'
  'We haven't done the Observatory yet, and I'd say that's the most
likely spot of all,' Rex suggested.
  'Yes-let's do that next.' De Richleau turned towards the upper
flight of stairs.
  The  great  domed room was just as they had left it  a  few  hours
before.  The  big  telescope pointing in  the  same  direction,  the
astrolabes  and sextants still in the same places. The  five-pointed
pentacle  enclosed in the double circle with its Cabalistic  figures
stood out white and clear on the polished floor in the glare of  the
electric  lights. Evidently no ceremony had taken place after  their
departure. To verify his impression the Duke threw up the lid of the
wicker hamper that stood beside the wall.
  A  scraping sound came from the basket, and he nodded.  'See  Rex!
The  Black  Cock  and the White Hen destined for sacrifice,  but  we
spoilt  their game for tonight at all events. We'll take  them  down
and free them in the garden when we go.'
  'What did they really mean to do-d'you think?' Rex asked gravely.
  'Utilise  the  conjunction  of certain  stars  which  occurred  at
Simon's  birth,  and again tonight, to work some invocation  through
him.  To  raise  some  dark familiar perhaps,  an  elemental  or  an
earthbound  spirit-or even some terrible intelligence from  what  we
know  as  Hell, in order to obtain certain information they  require
from it.'
  'Oh,  nuts!'  Rex  exclaimed impatiently. 'I  don't  believe  such
things.  Simon's  been  got  hold  of  by  a  gang  of  blackmailing
kidnappers  and hypnotised if you like. They've probably  used  this
Black Magic stuff to impose on him just as it imposes on you-but  in
every other way it's sheer, preposterous nonsense.'
  'I  only hope that you may continue to think so, Rex, but  I  fear
you  may have reason to alter your views before we're through. Let's
continue our search-shall we?'
  'Fine-though I've a hunch it's a pity we didn't call hi  the  cops
at the beginning.'
  They  examined  the  instruments, but  all  of  them  were  beyond
suspicion  of  any  secret  purpose, and  then  a  square  revolving
bookcase,  but  it held only trigonometry tables and charts  of  the
heavens,
  'Damn  it,  there  must be something hi this place!'  De  Richleau
muttered,  'Swords or cups or devils' bibles. They couldn't  perform
their rituals without them.'
  'Maybe they took their impedimenta with them when they quit.'
  'Perhaps,  but I'd like even to see the place in which  they  kept
it.  You never know what they may have left behind. Try tapping  all
round  the walls, Rex, and I'll do the floor. There's almost certain
to be a secret cache somewhere.'
  For  some minutes they pursued their search in silence, only their
repeated  knockings breaking the stillness of the empty house.  Then
Rex  gave  a  sudden joyful shout.  'Here, quick-it's  hollow  under
here!'
  Together  they pulled aside an early seventeenth-century chart  of
the Macrocosm by Robert Fludd, and after fumbling for a moment found
the secret spring. The panel slid back with a click.
  In  the recess some four feet deep reposed a strange collection of
articles: a wand of hazelwood, a crystal set in gold, a torch with a
pointed end so that it could be stuck upright in the ground, candle-
sticks, a short sword, two great books, a dagger with a blade curved
like a sickle moon, a ring, a chalice and an old bronze lamp, formed
out  of  twisted  human  figures, which  had  nine  wicks.  All  had
pentacles, planetary signs, and other strange symbols engraved  upon
them,  and each had the polish which is a sign of great age  coupled
with frequent usage.
  'Got  them!' snapped the Duke. 'By Jove, I'm glad we stayed,  Rex!
These things are incredibly rare, and each a power in itself through
association  with past mysteries. It is a thousand  to  one  against
their  having others, and without them their claws will  be  clipped
from working any serious evil against us.'
  As  he  spoke De Richleau Lifted out the two ancient volumes.  One
had  a  binding  of worked copper on which were chased  designs  and
characters.  Its  leaves, which were made from  the  bark  of  young
trees, were covered with very clear writing done with an iron point.
The  text  of the other was painted on vellum yellowed by time,  and
its binding supported by great scrolled silver clasps.
  'Wonderful copies,' the Duke murmured, with all the enthusiasm  of
a  bibliophile. 'The Clavicule of Solomon and The Grimoire  of  Pope
Honorius.  They  are  not  the  muddled  recast  versions   of   the
seventeenth  century either, but far, far older. This  Clavicule  on
cork  may  be  of almost any age, and is to the Black Art  what  the
Codex Sinaiticus and such early versions are to Christianity.'
  'Well,  maybe Mocata didn't figure we'd stay to search this  place
when we found Simon wasn't here, but it doesn't say much for all his
clairvoyant powers you make such a song about for him to let us  get
away  with  his  whole magician's box of tricks. Say!  where's  that
draught coming from?' Rex suddenly clapped a hand on the back of his
neck.
  The  Duke thrust the two books back and swung round as if  he  had
been  stung. He had felt it at the same instant-a sudden chill  wind
which  increased to a rushing icy blast, so cold that it  stung  his
hands and face like burning fire. The electric lights flickered  and
went dim, so that only the faint red glow of the wires showed in the
globes. The great room was plunged in shadow and a violet mist began
to  rise out of the middle of the pentacle, swirling with incredible
rapidity like some dust devil of the desert., It gathered height and
bulk, spread and took form.
  The  lights flickered again and then went out, but the violet mist
had a queer phosphorescent glow of its own. By it they could see the
cabalistic  bookcase,  like a dark shadow  beyond  it,  through  the
luminous  mist.  An awful stench of decay, which yet  had  something
sweet  and  cloying about it, filled their nostrils as  they  gazed,
sick  and  almost retching with repulsion, at a grey face  that  was
taking  shape about seven feet from the floor. The eyes  were  fixed
upon  them, malicious and intent? The eyeballs whitened but the face
went  dark.  Under it the mist was gathering into shoulders,  torso,
hips.
  Before  they  could  choke  for  breath  the  materialisation  had
completed.  Clad in flowing robes of white, Mocata's  black  servant
towered above them. His astral body was just as the Duke had seen it
in  the flesh, from tip to toe a full six foot eight, and the  eyes,
slanting inward, burned upon them like live coals of fire.


                                  6

                           The Secret Art

  Rex  was  not frightened in the ordinary meaning of the  word.  He
was  past  the state in which he could have ducked, or screamed,  or
run.  He  stood there rigid, numbered by the icy chill that radiated
from  the  figure  in the pentagram, a tiny pulse  throbbed  in  his
forehead,  and his knees seemed to grow weak beneath him.  A  clear,
silvery  voice  beat in his ears: 'Do not look at his  eyes!-do  not
look at his eyes I-do not look at his eyes!'-an urgent repetition of
De Richleau's warning to him, but try as he would, he could not drag
his  gaze from the malignant yellow pupils which burned in the black
face.
  Unable to stir, hand or foot, he watched the ab-human figure  grow
in  breadth and height, its white draperies billowing with a strange
silent  motion as they rose from the violet mist that  obscured  the
feet, until it overflowed the circles that ringed the pentagram  and
seemed  to  fill the lofty chamber like a veritable Djin.  The  room
reeked  with  the sickly, cloying stench which he had heard  of  but
never thought to know-the abominable affluvium of embodied evil.
  Suddenly  red rays began to glint from the baleful slanting  eyes,
and  Rex  found  himself  quivering from  head  to  foot.  He  tried
desperately   to   pray:   'Our  Father   which   art   in   Heaven-
hallowed-hallowed-hallowed . . .' but the words  which  he  had  not
used for so long would not come; the vibrations, surging through his
body, as though he were holding the terminals of a powerful electric
battery,  seemed to cut them off. His left knee began to  jerk.  His
foot lifted. He strove to raise his arms to cover his face, but they
remained fixed to his sides as though held by invisible steel bands.
He  tried to cry out, to throw himself backwards, but, despite every
atom  of  will which he could muster, a relentless force was drawing
him  towards the silent, menacing figure. Almost before he  realised
it he had taken a pace forward.
  Through  that  timeless interval of seconds, days or weeks,  after
the  violet mist first appeared, De Richleau stood within a foot  of
Rex,  his  eyes  riveted upon the ground. He would  not  even  allow
himself  to  ascertain in what form the apparition had taken  shape.
The  sudden deathly cold, the flicker of the lights as the room  was
plunged in darkness, the noisome odour, were enough to tell him that
an entity of supreme evil was abroad.
  With   racing  thoughts,  he  cursed  his  foolhardiness  in  ever
entering  the  accursed house without doing all  things  proper  for
their protection. It was so many years since he had had any dealings
with  the occult that his acute anxiety for Simon had caused him  to
minimise  the appalling risk they would run. What folly  could  have
possessed  him, he wondered miserably, to allow Rex, whose ignorance
and  scepticism would make him doubly vulnerable, to accompany  him.
Despite  his advancing age, the Duke would have given five  precious
years  of  his  life for an assurance that Rex was  staring  at  the
parquet  floor, momentarily riveted by fear perhaps, yet still  free
from  the malevolent influence which was streaming in pulsing  waves
from the circle; but Rex was not-instinctively De Richleau knew that
his  eyes were fixed on the Thing-and a ghastly dread caused  little
beads of icy perspiration to break out on his forehead.
  Then he felt, rather than saw, Rex move. Next second he heard  his
footfall  and  knew that he was walking towards the pentagram.  With
trembling  lips  he  began to mutter strange sentences  of  Persian,
Greek  and  Hebrew,  dimly  remembered  from  his  studies  of   the
past-calling-calling-urgently- imperatively, upon the Power of Light
for guidance and protection. Almost instantly the memory that he had
slipped  the  jewelled swastika into his waistcoat pocket  when  Max
returned  it, flashed into his mind-and he knew that his prayer  was
answered.  His fingers closed on the jewel. His arms  shot  out.  It
glittered for a second in the violet light, then came to rest in the
centre of the circle.
  A  piercing  scream, desperate with anger, fear,  and  pain,  like
that  of  a beast seared with a white-hot iron, blasted the silence.
The lights flickered again so that the wires showed red-came on-went
out-and  flickered  once  more, as though  two  mighty  forces  were
struggling for possession of the current.
  The chill wind died so suddenly that it seemed as if a blanket  of
warm  air  had descended on their faces-but even while that  hideous
screech  was  still ringing through the chamber De Richleau  grabbed
Rex  by  the  arm and dragged him towards the door. Next second  the
control  of both had snapped and they were plunging down the  stairs
with an utter recklessness born of sheer terror.
  Rex  slipped  on  the  lower landing and sprawled  down  the  last
flight  on his back. The Duke came bounding after, six stairs  at  a
time,  and  fell  beside  him.  Together  they  scrambled  to  their
feet-dashed through the library-out of the french-windows-and across
the lawn.
  With  the  agility  of lemurs they swung up the  branches  of  the
laburnum-on  to  the  wall-and dropped to the far  side.  Then  they
pelted down the lane as fast as their legs could carry them, and  on
until  a  full street away they paused, breathless and  panting,  to
face each other under the friendly glow of a street lamp.
  De  Richleau's breath came in choking gasps. It was years since he
had  subjected himself to such physical exertion, and his  face  was
grey  from  the  strain which it had put upon  him.  Rex  found  his
evening  collar limp from the sweat which had streamed from  him  in
his  terror, but his lungs were easing rapidly, and he was the first
to recover.
  'God! we're mighty lucky to be out of that!'
  The Duke nodded, still unable to speak.
  'I  take back every word I said,' Rex went on hurriedly. 'I  don't
think  I've  ever been real scared of anything in my life before-but
that was hellish!'
  'I  panicked  too-towards the end-couldn't help it, but  I  should
never  have taken you into that place-never,' De Rich-leau  muttered
repentantly as they set off down the street.
  'Since  we've got out safe it's all to the good. I've a real  idea
what we're up against now.'
  The  Duke  drew Rex's arm through his own with a friendly gesture.
Far from desiring to say 'I told you so!' he was regretting that  he
had  been so impatient with Rex's previous unbelief, Most people  he
knew regarded devil worship and the cultivation of mystic powers  as
sheer superstitions due to the ignorance of the Middle Ages. It  had
been too much to expect Rex to accept his contention that their sane
and  sober friend Simon was mixed up in such practices, but  now  he
had  actually witnessed a true instance of Saiitii De Richleau  felt
that his co-operation would be ten times as valuable as before.
  In  the St. John's Wood Road they picked up a belated taxi, and on
the  way back to Curzon Street he questioned Rex carefully as to the
form  the  Thing  had  taken. When he had heard the  description  he
nodded, 'It was Mocata's black servant, undoubtedly.'
  'What did you say he was?'
  'A  Malagasy.  They  are a strange people.  Half  Negro  and  half
Polynesian. A great migration took place many centuries ago from the
South  Seas to the East African Coast by way of the Malay  Peninsula
and  Ceylon.  Incredible though it may seem,  they  covered  fifteen
thousand  miles  of open ocean in their canoes,  and  most  of  them
settled  in  Madagascar, where they intermarried with the aborigines
and  produced  this  half-breed type,  which  often  has  the  worst
characteristics of both races.'
  'And Madagascar is the home of Voodoo-isn't it?'
  'Yes.  Perhaps he is a Witch doctor himself . . , and yet I wonder
. . .'The Duke broke off as the taxi drew up before Errol House.
  As  they entered the big library Rex glanced at the clock and  saw
that  it was a Little after three. Not a particularly late hour  for
him, since he often danced until the night clubs emptied, nor for De
Richleau, who believed that the one time when men opened their minds
and  conversation became really interesting was in the  quiet  hours
before  the  dawn. Yet both were so exhausted by their  ordeal  that
they  felt  as  though a month had passed since  they  sat  down  to
dinner.
  Rex  remade  the  remnants of the fire while the  Duke  mixed  the
drinks  and uncovered the sandwiches which Max always left for  him.
Then  they both sank into armchairs and renewed the discussion,  for
despite  their weariness, neither had any thought of bed. The  peril
in which Simon stood was far too urgent.
  'You  were  postulating  that  he  might  be  a  Madagascar  Witch
doctor,' Rex began. 'But I've a hunch I've read some place that such
fellows  have no power over whites, and surely that is so, else  how
could settlers in Africa and places keep the blacks under?'
  'Broadly  speaking, you are right, and the explanation is  simple.
What  we call Magic-Black or White-is the Science and Art of Causing
Change to occur in conformity with Will, Any required Change may  be
effected  by the application of the proper kind and degree of  Force
in  the proper manner and through the proper medium. Naturally,  for
causing any Change it is requisite to have the practical ability  to
set  the  necessary  Forces in right motion, but  it  is  even  more
important   to   have  a  thorough  qualitative   and   quantitative
understanding of the conditions. Very few white men can  really  get
inside a Negro's mind and know exactly what he is thinking-and  even
fewer blacks can appreciate a white's mentality. In consequence,  it
is  infinitely harder for the Wills of either to work on  the  other
than on men of their own kind.
  'Another  factor  which adds to the difficulty  of  a  Negroid  or
Mongolian  Sorcerer  working  his spells  upon  a  European  is  the
question  of vibrations. Their variation in human beings is governed
largely  by  the  part of the earth's surface in  which  birth  took
place.  To  use a simple analogy, some races have long wave  lengths
and others short-and the greater the variation the more difficult it
is  for  a  malignant will to influence that of an intended  victim.
Were it otherwise, you may be certain that the white races, who have
neglected  spiritual  growth for material achievement,  would  never
have come to dominate the world as they do today.'
  'Yet  that  devil  of Mocata's got me down all  right.  Ugh!'  Rex
shuddered slightly at the recollection.
  True-but I was only speaking generally. There are exceptions,  and
in  the  highest grades-the Ipsissimus, the Magus and  the  Magister
Templi-those  who have passed the Abyss, colour and race  no  longer
remain  a  bar, so such Masters can work their will upon any  lesser
human  unless  he  is protected by a power of equal  strength.  This
associate  of Mocata's may be one of the great Adepts  of  the  Left
Hand  Path. However, what I was really wondering was-is he  a  human
being at all?'
  'But  you said you saw him yourself-when you paid a call on  Simon
weeks back.'
  'I  thought I saw him-so at first I assumed that the Thing you saw
tonight  was his astral body, sent by Mocata to prevent our removing
his  collection of Devil's baubles; but perhaps what we both saw was
a  disembodied entity, an actual Satanic power which is not governed
by  Mocata,  but has gained entry to our world from the  other  side
through his evil practices,'
  'Oh  Lord!'  Rex groaned. 'All this stuff is so new, so fantastic,
so  utterly  impossible to me-I just can't grasp  it;  though  don't
think  I'm doubting now. Whether it was an astral body or  what  you
say,  I saw it all right, and it wasn't a case of any stupid parlour
tricks-I'll swear to that. It was so evil that my bones just  turned
to  water on me in sheer blue funk-and there's poor Simon all  mixed
up in this. Say, now-what the hell are we to do?'
  De  Richleau sat forward suddenly. 'I wish to God I knew what  was
at  the  bottom of this business. I am certain that it is  something
pretty foul for them to have gone to the lengths of getting hold  of
a  normal  man like Simon but, if it is the last thing we  ever  do,
we've got to find him and get him away from these people.'
  'But  how?' Rex flung wide his arms. 'Where can we even  start  in
on  the hope of picking up the trail? Simon's a lone wolf-always has
been.  He's got no father; his mother lives abroad; unlike  so  many
Jews, he hasn't even got a heap of relatives who we can dig out  and
question?'
  'Yes,  that is the trouble. Of course he is almost certain  to  be
with  Mocata,  but  I  don't see how we are  to  set  about  finding
somebody who knows Mocata either. If only we had the address of  any
of those people who were there this evening we might...'
  'I've  got  it!' cried Rex, leaping to his feet. 'We'll trace  him
through Tanith.'


                                  7

                    De Richleau Plans a Campaign

  'Tanith,' the Duke repeated; 'but you don't know where she is,  do
you?'
  'Sure.'  Rex laughed, for the first time in several hours. 'Having
got  acquainted with her after all this while, I wouldn't be such  a
fool as to quit that party without nailing her address.'
  'I must confess that I'm surprised she gave it to you.'
  'She  hadn't  fallen to it that I wasn't one of their  bunch-then!
She's staying at Claridges.'
  'Do you think you can get hold of her?'
  'Don't you worry-I meant to, anyhow.'
  'You  must be careful, Rex. This woman is very lovely, I  know-but
she's probably damnably dangerous.'
  'I've  never been scared of a female yet, and surely these  people
can't do me much harm in broad daylight?'
  'No,  except for ordinary human trickery they are almost powerless
between sunrise and sunset.'
  Tine.  Then  I'll go right round to Claridges as soon  as  she  is
likely to be awake tomorrow-today, rather.'
  'You don't know her real name though, do you?'
  'I  should  worry.  There aren't two girls  like  her  staying  at
Claridges-there aren't two like her in all London.'
  De  Richleau stood up and began to pace the floor like  some  huge
cat. 'What do you intend to say to her?' he asked at length.
  'Why,  that  we're  just worried stiff about Simon-and  that  it's
absolutely imperative that she should help us out. I'll give  her  a
frank  undertaking not to do anything against Mocata or any  of  her
pals  if she'll come clean with me-though Heaven knows I can't think
she's got any real friends in a crowd like that.'
  'Rex!  Rex!' The Duke smiled affectionately down into  the  honest
attractive, ugly face of the young giant stretched in the  armchair.
'And  what,  may I ask, do you intend to do should this lovely  lady
refuse to tell you anything?'
  'I  can  threaten to call in the cops, I suppose, though I'd  just
hate to do anything like that on her.'
  De  Richleau gave his eloquent expressive shrug. 'My dear  fellow,
unless  we  can  get  some  actual  evidence  of  ordinary  criminal
activities against Mocata and his friends, the police are absolutely
ruled out of this affair-and she would know it.'
  'I  don't  see why,' Rex protested stubbornly. 'These people  have
kidnapped Simon, that's what it boils down to, and that's as much  a
crime as running a dope joint or white slaving.'
  'Perhaps,  and  if they had hit him on the head our problem  would
be  easy. The difficulty is that to all outward appearances  he  has
joined them willingly and in his right mind. Only we know that he is
acting under some powerful and evil influence which has been brought
to  bear on him, and how in the world are you going to charge anyone
with raising the devil-or its equivalent-in a modern police court?'
  'Well, what do you suggest?'
  'Listen.'  The  Duke perched himself on the arm  of  Rex's  chair.
'Even  if  this girl is an innocent party like Simon, she  will  not
tell  you anything willingly-she will be too frightened. As a matter
of  fact,  now that she knows you are not a member of their infernal
circle  it  is  doubtful  if  she will even  see  you,  but  if  she
does-well, you've got to get hold of her somehow.'
  'I'll  certainly have a try-but it's not all that easy  to  kidnap
people in a city Like London.'
  'I  don't  mean  that exactly, but rather that you  should  induce
her,  by fair means or foul, to accompany you to some place where  I
can  talk  to  her at my leisure. If she is only a neophyte  I  know
enough  of this dangerous business to frighten her out of her  wits.
If  she is something more there will be a mental tussle, and  I  may
learn  something from the cards which she is forced to throw on  the
table.'
  'O.K. I'll pull every gun I know to persuade her into coming  here
with me for a cocktail.'
  De  Richleau  shook  his  head. 'No, I'm  afraid  that  won't  do,
immediately  she realised the reason she had been brought  here  she
would  insist on leaving, and we couldn't stop her. If we tried  she
would  break a window and yell Murder! We have got to get her  to  a
place where she will see at once the futility of trying to call  for
outside  help.  I have itl Do you think you could get  her  down  to
Pangbourne?'
  'What? To that river place of yours?'
  'Yes; I haven't been down there yet this year, but I can send  Max
down  first  thing  in the morning to open it  up  and  give  it  an
airing.'
  'You  talk  as though I were falling off a log to get  a  girl  to
come  boating  on  the  Thames at what's practically  a  first  meet
ing-can't you weigh in and lend a hand yourself?'
  'No.  I shall be at the British Museum most of the day. It  is  so
many  years  since I studied the occult that there  are  a  thousand
things  I have forgotten. It is absolutely imperative that I  should
immerse myself in some of the old key works for a few hours and  rub
up  my  knowledge of protective measures. I must leave you to handle
the  girl,  Rex,  and  remember, Simon's safety will  depend  almost
wholly on your success. Get her there somehow, and I'll join you  in
the late afternoon-say about six.'
  Rex  grinned. 'It's about as stiff a proposition as sending me  in
your place to study the Cabbala, but I'll do rny best.'
  'Of  course  you  will.' The Duke began to pace hurriedly  up  and
down  again. 'But go gently with her-I beg you. Avoid any  questions
about  this  horrible  business as you would the  plague.  Play  the
lover.  Be  just the nice young man who has fallen in  love  with  a
beautiful girl. If she asks you about our having abducted Simon from
the  party, say you were completely in the dark about it.  That  you
have  known me for years-and that I sprung some story on  you  about
his  having fallen into the hands of a gang of blackmailers, so  you
just  blindly followed my lead without a second thought. Not a  word
to  her about the supernatural-you know nothing of that. You must be
as incredulous as you were with me when I first talked to you of it.
And,  above  all, if you can get her to Pang-bourne, don't  let  her
know that I am coming down.'
  'Surely-I get the line you want me to play all right.'
  'Good. You see, if I can only squeeze some information out of  her
which will enable us to find out where Mocata is living, we will  go
down  and keep the place under observation for a day or two.  He  is
almost  certain to have Simon with him. We will note the times  that
Mocata leaves the house and plan our raid accordingly. If we can get
Simon  into  our hands again I swear Mocata shan't get  him  back  a
second time.'
  That's certainly the idea.'
  'There  is  only  one thing I am really frightened  of.'   'What's
that?'
  De  Richleau  paused  opposite Rex's chair.  'What  I  heard  this
evening  of  Simon's  approaching change  of  name-to  Abraham,  you
remember.  That, of course, would be after Abraham the Jew,  a  very
famous  and learned mystic of the early centuries. He wrote  a  book
which  is  said to be the most informative ever compiled  concerning
the  Great Work. It was lost sight of for several hundred years, but
early  in  the  fifteenth  century came into  the  possession  of  a
Parisian  bookseller named Nicolas Flamel who, by its aid, performed
many  curious rites. Flamel was buried in some magnificence,  and  a
few  years  later  certain persons who were anxious  to  obtain  his
secrets opened his grave to find the book which was supposed to have
been  buried  with him. Neither Flamel nor the book was  there,  and
there  is  even  some evidence to show that he was  still  living  a
hundred years later in Turkey, which is by no means unbelievable  to
those who have any real knowledge of the strange powers acquired  by
the  true  initiate such as those in the higher orders of  the  Yoga
sects. That is the last we know of the Book of Abraham the Jew,  but
it  seems that Simon is about to take his name in the service of the
Invisible.'
  'Well-what'll happen then?'
  'That  he  will be given over entirely to the Power  of  Evil,  be
cause he will renounce his early teaching and receive his re-baptism
at  the  hands of a high adept of the Left Hand Path. Until that  is
done we can still save him, because all the invisible powers of Good
will be fighting on our side, but after-they will withdraw, and what
we call the Soul of Simon Aron will be dragged down into the Pit.'
  'Are  you  sure of that? Baptism into the Christian Faith  doesn't
ensure  one going to Heaven, why should this other sprinkling  be  a
guarantee of anyone going to Hell?'
  'It's  such  a  big question, Rex, but briefly it  is  like  this.
Heaven  and  Hell  are  only  symbolical  of  growth  to  Light   or
disintegration to Darkness. By Christian-or any other true religious
baptism, we renounce the Devil and all his Works, thereby erecting a
barrier  which  it  is difficult for Evil forces  to  surmount,  but
anyone  who  accepts Satanic baptism does exactly the reverse.  They
wilfully  destroy the barrier of astral Light which is  our  natural
protection and offer themselves as a medium through which the powers
of Darkness may operate on mankind.
  'They  are  tempted to it, of course, by the belief that  it  will
give them supernatural powers over their fellow-men, but few of them
realise the appalling danger. There is no such person as the  Devil,
but  there  are vast numbers of Earthbound spirits, Elementals,  and
Evil Intelligences of the Outer Circle floating in our midst. Nobody
who  has even the most elementary knowledge of the Occult can  doubt
that.  They  are blind and ignorant, and except for the last,  under
comparatively rare circumstances, not in the least dangerous to  any
normal  man or woman who leads a reasonably upright life,  but  they
never  cease to search in a fumbling way for some gateway back  into
existence  as we know it. The surrender of one's own volition  gives
it  to them, and, if you need an example, you only have to think  of
the  many terrible crimes which are perpetrated when reason and will
are  entirely absent owing to excess of alcohol. An Elemental seizes
upon  the unresisting intelligence of the human and forces  them  to
some   appalling  deed  which  is  utterly  against  their   natural
instincts.
  'That,  then, is the danger. While apparently only passing through
an  ancient  barbarous  and  disgusting  ritual,  the  Satanist,  by
accepting  baptism, surrenders his will to the domination of  powers
which  he believes he will be able to use for his own ends,  but  in
actual fact he becomes the spiritual slave of an Elemental, and  for
ever after is nothing but the instrument of its evil purposes.'
  'When do you figure they'll try to do this thing?'
  'Not  for  a week or so, I trust. It is essential that  it  should
take place at a real Sabbat, when at least one Coven of thirteen  is
present,  and after our having broken up their gathering  tonight  I
hardly  think  they  will risk meeting again for some  little  time,
unless there is some extraordinary reason why they should.'
  'That  gives us a breathing space then; but what's worrying me  is
that it's so early in the year to ask a young woman to go picnicking
on the river.'
  'Why? The sunshine for the last few days has been magnificent.'
  'Still, it's only April 29th-the 30th, I mean.'
  'What!'  De  Richleau stood there with a new and terrible  anxiety
burning in his eyes. 'Good God! I never realised!'
  'What's the trouble?'
  'Why,  that  was  only  one Coven we saw tonight,  and  there  are
probably a dozen scattered over England. The whole pack are probably
on  their way by now to the great annual gathering. It's a certainty
they  will  take Simon with them. They'd never miss  the  chance  of
giving him his Devil's Christening at the Grand Sabbat of the year.'
  'What  in  the  world are you talking about?' Rex hoisted  himself
swiftly out of his chair.
  'Don't  you  understand,  man?' De Richleau  gripped  him  by  the
shoulder. 'On the last night of April every peasant in Europe  still
double-locks his doors. Every latent force for Evil in the world  is
abroad.  We've  got to get hold of Simon in the next  twenty  hours.
This coming night-April 30th-is Saint Walburga's Eve.'


                                  8

                    Rex Van Ryn Opens the Attack

  Six  hours  later, Rex, still drowsy with sleep,  lowered  himself
into  the  Duke's sunken bath. It