To The Devil A Daughter mf-1

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by Dennis Wheatley


  `My father will be so sorry to have missed you; but you must come over and see us again.'

  `Thanks,' John replied, with the appearance of equal cordiality, `I should love to.'

  Molly had overheard the exchange, and as the car ran down the drive she murmured, `I thought at one moment he was going to prove really troublesome. I wonder what caused him suddenly to change his mind.'

  `I've no idea.' John shrugged. `Anyhow, we pulled it off. But what a bit of luck that she asked for that last cocktail. God alone knows how we should have got her away if it hadn't been for that.'

  `Yes. That, and what I put in it.'

  'Mumsie!' He turned to stare at her for a second. `What the devil do you mean?'

  `I gave her a Micky Finn, darling.'

  `You didn’t

  'Well, to be accurate, only about a quarter of one, because I didn't want to knock her right out. ' Molly's voice was just a trifle smug. `I'm really rather pleased with myself. I've had some of those tablets in my museum for years. I souvenired them during the war, and I've always wanted to try them on someone, but a suitable 0opportunity has never arisen before. The way it worked was most gratifying.'

  `How on earth did you manage to put it in her drink without anyone seeing you?'

  Molly tittered with pleasure at the thought of her skilful coup. `I didn't. I put it in my own, and used the cherry stick to help dissolve it quickly. Then, when I had made you all look away from the table to the bookcase, I exchanged her glass for mine.'

  `Well played, Mumsie!' John spoke with genuine admiration. `But you've let the cat out of the bag, you know. This night's work dispels my last lingering doubts about your having been Molly Polloffski, the beautiful spy.'

  `No, Johnny. Really, I assure you I never did anything but work in an office.'

  `Tell that one to the Marines!' he replied, closing the conversation.

  As Christina had been given only a small dose of the powerful drug, she recovered fairly quickly from its worst effects, and when they got back to Molly's villa she was able to walk up the path to it unassisted. As soon as they reached the sitting room Molly sat her down in an armchair, then went upstairs and fetched her a bromoseltzer.

  She was now fully conscious again, but in a curious mood, half tearful and half defiant. Several times she apologized for having made a fool of herself, and for having given them so much trouble. But she did not seem to realise that they had saved her from some very grave danger. Every now and then she harped back to the de Grasses' party and said how sorry she was to have missed it. In fact it soon became clear that she now resented their having prevented her remaining at the Capricorn until she recovered, so that there might" still have been a chance of her being able to go on the yacht.

  At length Molly said, `I'm afraid, my dear, that this business has been getting on your nerves, and that you are no longer in a quite normal state. If you were, you would recall that it was at your own request, made earlier this evening, that we got you out of the clutches of the de Grasses.' Pausing for a moment she fished something out of her bag and concealed it in her hand; then she went on, `Our only wish is to get to the root of your trouble, and see you out of it. Here is something which may help us to

  do that, and help you, too.'

  As she finished speaking she threw the thing she was

  holding towards Christina's lap, and cried, `Catch!' Christina cupped her hands and caught the spinning object. It was a small gold crucifix. The second it fell into her palms she gave a scream of pain. Then, as though seared by white hot metal, she thrust it from her.

  `I feared as much!' Molly said grimly. `And now we know the worst ! Every night when darkness falls, you become possessed by the Devil.'

  6

  The Christina of the Dark Hours

  With her eyes glaring, Christina sprang up from the armchair. Then, as though suddenly stricken by a fit, her long limbs grew rigid, she fell back into it, and little flecks of froth began to appear at the corners of her mouth.

  Molly went quickly over to the side table on which stood the drinks, filled a tumbler half full of Perrier water and, turning about, sloshed its contents into the girl's face. She whimpered, the rigor passed, and she sat up, the water dripping from her brown hair and running down her pale cheeks. Laying a hand on her shoulder, Molly said kindly:

  `God help you, child; but I am right, aren't I? You are only your real self in the day time, and at night you become possessed.'

  With a moan, Christina buried her face in her hands, and burst into a flood of tears.

  Turning to John, Molly said, `She had better stay here to night. Before we left I told Angele that we might be late for dinner, so we would have something cold. Slip out to the kitchen and tell her that we shan't be ready for it for another half hour, and that she is to go up at once and make the spare room ready.'

  John was standing with his mouth a little open, staring at Christina. He could still hardly believe that he had not been the victim of a sudden amnesia and imagined the happenings of the last few moments. But he pulled himself together, nodded, and left the room.

  For a few minutes Molly remained silently beside

  Christina, then when the girl's weeping ceased she said, `My dear, you must be quite exhausted, and are in no state to talk further about this to night. I'm going to put you to bed here, and to morrow when you are feeling better we will decide what it is best for us to do.'

  `There is nothing that you can do,' murmured Christina a little sullenly.

  `Oh yes, there is,' countered Molly, in her most determined voice, `And we're going to do it; but it is not the time to go into that now.'

  At that moment John returned; so his mother said to him, `You had better stay with her, while I go over to her villa and get her a few things for the night.'

  Christina was now sitting staring at the floor. After another swift glance at her, John mixed himself a drink and, feeling extremely awkward, sat down some way from her on the edge of the sofa. For once he was completely out of his depth. The very idea of anyone in this modern world being possessed by the Devil struck him as utterly fantastic. Yet Christina had reacted to the touch of the crucifix as though she had been stung by a hornet, and there seemed no normal explanation for that. Moreover, she had made no attempt to explain it herself, or deny his mother's diagnosis of her case. In such extraordinary circumstances he could think of nothing whatever to say to her; but fortunately she did not seem to expect him to start a conversation; so they both remained sitting there in silence until Molly returned.

  Much to his relief, no further scene ensued. Molly's attitude to the girl was now the same as she would have adopted to any young guest who had suddenly been taken ill in her house. With brisk efficiency, she hurried her off to bed; and Christina went without a word of protest.

  Shortly afterwards Angele came in to say that she had laid supper, and when Molly came down she found John in the dining room pulling the cork of a bottle of vin rose. As she took her seat at the table she said

  `For a moment I feared that poor child was going to run screaming from the house. It was a great relief that after her fit she became so docile, and allowed me to put her to bed, where I can keep an eye on her. She is fairly comfortable now, but as a result of that Mickey Finn she naturally does not feel like eating any dinner. I have told Angele to take her up a cup of bouillon, and later I shall give her a good dose of some stuff I have.'

  `I suppose,' John remarked, `that if we made her drink a noggin of Holy water she would start to fizz, then blow up; so no doubt you're right to play for safety and stick to your panacea for all childish ills a grey powder disguised in a spoonful of raspberry jam.'

  His rather poor attempt at humour brought the quick reproof, `I was referring to some stuff which will make her sleep. And, Johnny, this is nothing to joke about.'

  `Sorry; but I haven't yet got my bearings. What was the big idea in putting a fast one over on Christina while she was still too doped to fu
lly understand what was going on?'

  `If you mean my throwing her that little crucifix, I should have thought my reason for doing so immediately became obvious.'

  `No, I didn't mean that. While she was in that state, throwing anything at her might have made her scream. I meant putting the idea that she was possessed into the poor girl's head at a time when she was too goofy to repudiate it?'

  `She didn't repudiate it because she knows or at least suspects that it is true.'

  `Oh come, Mumsie! You can't really believe that people become possessed. That is now just a form of speech for a particular kind of religious lunacy.'

  `It is not, and she is.' Molly announced with decision. `I have been wondering all day if that could be at the bottom of her extraordinary behaviour, and now I am certain of it. The acid test is to touch anyone who is suspected of possession with a crucifix. If they react as though they have been burnt, that is a sure sign that they have a devil inside them.'

  John helped himself to another chunk of pate maison, spread it lavishly on a brioche, and asked skeptically, `How do you know? Is it just that you have read about it in some old book, or have you actually seen it happen on a previous occasion?'

  `I was told about it by a Roman Catholic priest whom I knew years ago. He specialized in exorcism, and had witnessed many strange happenings. One experience that he told me of I shall never forget. It was in Ireland and he was endeavouring to drive a devil out of a poor cottager. The place was deep in the country, so the wife had prepared a meal. In honour of the priest she had bought a leg of mutton, but as the time when he could get out there was uncertain she cooked it in advance and placed it cold on the table of the living room, all ready for when he had fulfilled his mission. The case proved a very stubborn one. The possessed man became violent, struggling and blaspheming, and had to be tied down. For over two hours the priest wrestled with the fiend, conjuring him to come forth without success; but at last he triumphed. A wisp of evil smelling black smoke issued from the cottager's foaming mouth, sped across the room, apparently passing through the leg of mutton, then disappeared through the wall. When the exhausted victim had been put to bed the priest and the rest of the family sat down to supper. But they were unable to eat the mutton. When it was touched it fell from the bones, absolutely rotten and alive with maggots.'

  `Did the chap who told you this story produce any supporting evidence to substantiate that he was telling the truth?’

  `No, and I did not need it. He was a most saintly old man. I am sure he would have allowed himself to be torn in pieces rather than lie about any matter connected with his faith.'

  `Have you any other sources for believing that such things still happen?'

  `Not direct ones, but occasionally one sees cases reported in the French papers.'

  `Why the French papers, particularly?'

  `Cases are probably also reported in the Spanish and Italian press, and those of other Catholic countries; but I don't see them.'

  `The inference is, then, that these occurrences are confined to Catholic countries?'

  `No, I don't think that is so. I think that the profound

  knowledge of demonology that has been handed down by the Roman Catholic Church enables certain of her priests to recognise possession and deal with it; whereas when a case occurs in a Protestant country hardly anyone is capable of distinguishing it from ordinary lunacy, so the sufferer is simply certified and put in an asylum.'

  John could not help being impressed, and after remaining silent for a moment he said, `If you are really right about all this, Mumsie, it looks as if we ought to call a Catholic priest in to cope with Christina.'

  `That is easier said than done, darling. You see, although all Roman Catholic priests are qualified by their office to perform ceremonies of exorcism, very few of them ever do so. Experience has shown it to be a job for experts who have made a special study of that sort of thing; much in the same way as only a very limited number of doctors are capable of prescribing the most efficient treatment for a rare disease. As we are not Catholics ourselves and Christina isn't one either, I'm afraid it would prove difficult to interest the local man in her case sufficiently to induce him to send for a first class exorcist, perhaps from some distant part of France.'

  `How do you propose to handle this extraordinary business, then? She is quite sane most of the time, and we can't let her be popped into a loony bin.'

  Molly looked down at her plate. `When we've finished supper I thought I would ring up London, and try to get hold of Colonel Verney.'

  `What, Conky Bill!' John exclaimed in astonishment.

  `Yes. He usually dines at his club in the middle of the week and never goes home much before eleven, so there is quite a good chance of my catching him. If he is not too desperately busy I might be able to persuade him to fly down to morrow and stay with us for a few days.'

  `But hang it all, Mumsie, what's the idea? Of course, I know you've always had a bit of a yen for C. B., so one can't blame you for seizing on any excuse ...'

  `Johnny, I've told you often enough that I used to act as liaison between my chief and C. B. during the war, and that after your father died he was extremely kind to me. That's all there is to it.'

  `Dearest, you know jolly well that the two of you flirt like mad when you are together. I think he's a grand chap, and nothing would please me better than to get tight at your wedding: but that is beside the point at the moment. The thing I don't get is why you should regard him as a suitable substitute for a Catholic priest who has trained as an expert exorcist.'

  `If I tell you, you must promise never to repeat it.'

  `Go ahead. I can give as good an imitation of a bearded oyster as you can about things that really matter.'

  `Well, you are quite right in assuming that for the past few years C. B. has given most of his time to checking up on the activities of Communists and fellow travellers. But that is only because they have now become the principal source of danger to our right to choose whom we want to rule us at free elections. Before the war he spent just as much of his time keeping his eye on the Fascists. Actually he is responsible for keeping his chief informed about all groups that may be engaged in subversive activities. That, of course, covers every type of secret society, including circles that practised Black Magic.'

  John raised his dark eyebrows. `Such circles do really exist, then? I remember reading an article some months ago in the Sunday Empire News by ex Superintendent Robert Fabian, giving a most lurid account of how young girls were lured into, lending themselves to all sorts of obscene rites in secret Satanic Temples. He even went so far as to state that he knew there to be such places in Kensington, Paddington and Bloomsbury. But I thought it was all poppycock, and that now Fabian is retired he was just making himself a bit of easy money.'

  `No; Fabian was telling the truth. And when he was an officer of the Special Branch he worked in close collaboration with C. B. You have no idea of the horrors they uncovered.'

  `Why are there never any prosecutions, then?'

  `Because the Satanists who run these circles are too clever. They recruit their disciples from among the people who attend quite respectable spiritualist and theosophical societies, many of whom can easily be intrigued by a promise of revealing to them the real secrets of the occult at some small private gathering. The obtaining of power is, of course, the lure, and they start them off with Yoga exercises; then prescribe a special diet for them, including a course of pills which are actually aphrodisiacs to increase their sexual appetite. After that there is usually not much difficulty in involving them with some more advanced Satanist of the opposite sex. For them that starts as just a rather intriguing affair, but it is the thin end of the wedge. Their instructor promises the revelation of higher mysteries if they will consent to being hypnotized, and they nearly always do. Once they have been fully dominated they no longer have a mind of their own and become willing subjects for every kind of abomination. A few of the stronger minded
ones survive to achieve the rank of real Satanists themselves, but most of them are used only for obscenities and soon degenerate into physical and moral wrecks. Many of them end up as suicides, and those who are rescued by their friends always prove useless from the police point of view. Either they have not gone far enough to be able to give evidence of any actually criminal activities, or, if they have, they have been hypnotized into a state in which their minds are blank about the Satanists they have been mixed up with and the places where the rituals in which they participated took place. That is why there are never any prosecutions.'

  `It sounds a ghastly business,' John said, pushing his plate away; `but I don't quite see where Conky Bill comes into it. From Fabian's article and what you say, it seems that the Satanists' only interest is to get hold of young people upon whom to practice their perversions at their orgies. Beastly as that may be, it is a form of private fun and has no connection with subversive activities against the State.'

  `You are quite wrong about that, Johnny. The people who direct these circles really are the henchmen of the Devil. The sexual excesses that take place under their auspices are only a means to an end a focus for concentrating evil forces which they can use for the furtherance of their own wicked designs. You must have read at some time that in the old days the Devil was often referred to as the Lord of Misrule. The object of these high up Satanists is to deliver the world up to him, and the only way they can do that is to cause the breakdown of good rule so that misrule may take its place. With that as their goal they do everything they can to foment wars, class hatred, strikes and famine; and to foster perversions, moral laxity and the taking of drugs. There is even reason to believe that they have been behind many of the political assassinations that have robbed the world of good rulers and honest statesmen, and naturally Communism has now become their most potent weapon. So you can see that breaking up these Black Magic circles, wherever they can be found, is very much in C.B.'s province.'

  `Oh come, Mumsie! I agree that they may exert their influence for political evil, but by suggesting that they are working to a plan and have supernatural backing, aren't you letting your imagination run away with you a bit? After all, no one really believes in the Devil any more.'

 

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