To The Devil A Daughter mf-1

by Dennis Wheatley

  `The dank, unlived in atmosphere of this place is enough to give anyone the willies,' C. B, said understandingly. `It was probably a fall of soot in one of the chimneys brought down by the rain.'

  Returning to the desk, he closed its top, and set about opening the drawers in its two pedestals, most of which were locked. The locked ones he found to contain a number of stamp albums and the impedimenta of a philatelist.

  A glance showed him that the albums covered only the British Empire. Quickly he flicked, through a couple of them and saw that they were a fairly valuable collection. Then he noticed a curious thing. The pages for some of the smaller Colonies had on them the remains of a number of stamp hinges but not a single stamp of any denomination. Turning to John he said

  `This is interesting. Beddows evidently started a general collection of the British Empire; then, unless I'm right off the mark, he began to specialize in Barbados, Cyprus and perhaps a few other places. Being a rich man, he could afford to buy rarities and his special collections soon grew too valuable for him to leave them with the rest; so he removed his pet Colonies into a separate album.'

  `Where does that get us?' asked John, a little mystified.

  `Come, come, my dear Watson. Surely you realise that a keen philatelist would never keep the best part of his collection in his office, where he couldn't look at it in the evenings. The fact that it is not here suggests that it is in a safe somewhere in the house. If Christina's papa has a safe, it is there that he would also keep the sort of highly private papers in which we are interested.'

  `That sounds logical; but if there is a safe surely it would be a bit beyond you to get it open?'

  `Probably but not necessarily. If it is an old type, patience and my skeleton keys might do the trick. Anyhow it would be worth trying.'

  Returning the stamp albums to their drawers C. B. relocked them. He had already noticed a door between two sets of bookshelves that stood against the further wall. Walking over, he opened it and looked through. The room beyond was another sitting room. From some fashion magazines, a bowl of pot pourri and a work basket it looked as if it might be Christina's sanctum on the rare

  occasions when she was at home. After a quick glance round he left it and they returned to the hall.

  Next to the passage leading to the kitchen they found a breakfast room, and beyond it another room that was half pantry, half flower room. Neither contained anything having the remotest resemblance to a safe; so, as they had now explored all the downstairs living rooms without success, it seemed that if there was a safe in the house at all it must be up in Beddows' bedroom.

  At the foot of the main staircase they paused, while C. B. shone his torch upward. No movement was to be seen and no sound reached them. Yet the very silence of the damp, chill house seemed to have something vaguely sinister about it; so that, instead of advancing boldly, both of them half held their breath and trod gently as they went upstairs.

  They were within two steps of the main landing, and could see across it to a dark rectangle between a pair of oak uprights, through which a narrower flight of stairs led to the top floor of the house, when the clanking came again.

  This time it was distinct and unmistakable; a noise of chains being dragged across a wooden floor. The sound was so eerie, so uncanny, in that dark, deserted house that it caused their hearts to leap. The blood seemed to freeze in their veins, and momentarily they were inflicted with a semi paralysis. Yet it was the very terror that caused their throats to close and their muscles to contract that saved C. B. from a broken neck.

  He was in the act of planting his right foot on the landing.. Instead of coming down firmly, it was arrested in mid air by the same nervous shock that made his scalp prickle. For a second or so it hovered; then, by no act of will but by the residue of its own momentum, it sank gently on to the carpet.

  The carpet gave as though it was a feather bed. There came a faint snap, then a swift slithering noise. A large piece of carpet suddenly flopped downwards from the topmost stair. Its loose end and sides had been secured to the main carpet of the landing only by threads. It now hung straight down between the newel post of the banisters and the wall, leaving a four foot square gulf of blackness.

  The square of carpet at the stair head had been cunningly suspended to conceal the fact that the flooring beneath it had been removed. Anyone stepping firmly upon it must have been flung down into the hall fifteen feet below.

  C. B. gasped, staggered, and recovered his balance. Then, flashing his torch through the gaping hole that the vanished carpet had left in the nearest corner of the landing he muttered

  `My God, that was a near one! It's a modem oubliette. The sort of death trap that the French Kings used to have in their castles for troublesome nobles whom they invited to stay with intent to murder. But this one must have been made quite recently. Look at the torn edges of those boards, where some tool has been used to prise up the ones that have been removed.'

  John nodded. `Anyhow, this isn't the work of spooks. It is good solid evidence that friend Beddows keeps something up here, and is so anxious that no one should see it that he doesn't even stick at killing as a method of keeping out intruders.'

  As he finished speaking there came the rattling of the chains once more.

  It was a horribly unnerving sound. In spite of what had just been said the blood drained from the faces of the two men as they looked quickly at one another.

  `I expect it is some mechanical gadget made to scare people,' John said a little dubiously.

  `Perhaps.' C. B. hesitated. `On the other hand, if Copely Syle and Beddows are buddies it may be something very different. Still, if you're game to go on, I am.'

  The vitality of both was now at a very low ebb, and John would have given a lot for a sound excuse to abandon their investigations there and then; but he hated the idea of losing face with C. B.; so he said in a low voice

  `All right. But as we cross the landing I think you had better recite the Lord's Prayer, as you did in the crypt, and I'll join in.'

  Handing the torch to John, C. B, grasped the newel

  post firmly and swung himself across the gap, carefully testing the firmness of the floor beyond before letting go.

  John passed him back the torch and followed. Together, they began to pray aloud. Shining the light downward on to the floor and taking each step cautiously, in case there was another trap, C. B. led the way across the landing. In the archway he paused, put one foot on the lowest stair of the upper flight, tested that, then swiftly raised the beam. The thing it fell upon caused them to break off their prayer. The chain clanked loudly. Simultaneously they jumped back.

  For a moment the light had swept across a crouching form and lit up two reddish eyes. A dark hunched thing, with eyeballs that glowed like live coals, was squatting half way up the narrow flight of stairs.

  In a choking voice John cried, `For God's sake let's get out of here!' And turned to run.

  C.B.’s flesh was creeping and his tongue seemed to cleave to the roof of his mouth. Yet, as he swung round to follow, he managed to shout a warning

  `Careful ! Look out for the hole!'

  John was already half way across the landing. He pulled up so abruptly that C. B. cannoned into him. The torch was knocked from C.B.’s hand, fell to the floor with a crash, and went out.

  Total darkness descended upon them like a pall. John had been thrown off his balance. He staggered sideways a few steps. Their collision had robbed him of his sense of direction. He was no longer certain if the gaping chasm in the floorboards was in front of him or to his left. A few steps either way and he might become a whirling mass of arms and legs, hurtling down into the hall.

  The chain was now rattling violently. Other sounds mingled with it. There was an irregular thumping, as if a soft, heavy body was flopping about on the upper stairs; and a quick champing noise, like the repeated snapping together of strong teeth.

  John felt a cold sweat break out all over him. He was te
rrified of the Thing behind him, yet was held where he stood from fear of breaking his neck. Meanwhile C. B., cursing furiously, was on his hands and knees, frantically searching for the lost torch.

  Within a matter of seconds his right hand knocked against it. Snatching it up, he pressed the switch. To his infinite relief it lit. The bulb had not, as he had feared, been broken. Still on his knees, he swung the beam towards the opening through which lay the upper stairs.

  It was barely thirty seconds since he had dropped the torch. He expected to see that hideous Thing framed in the opening and about to spring upon them. There was nothing there nothing whatever. Yet the rattling of the chain and the other noises continued with unabated violence.

  As the torch flashed on, John swung half right and grabbed the newel post at the head of the main stairs. Only his sense of loyalty to C. B. restrained him from jumping the hole and dashing down them; but hearing no following footsteps he halted, looked over his shoulder, and shouted

  `Come on! What the hell are you waiting for?'

  C. B. was still kneeling in the middle of the landing with his torch focused on the archway from which came the din of clanking, banging and champing. Without taking his eyes from it, he called

  `Half a minute! Don't go, John! I'm going to have another look.'

  `You're crazy!' John shouted back, but he turned towards the landing again. With tightly clenched hands he watched C. B. rise and walk forward, once more reciting the Lord's Prayer. As he reached the opening he made the sign of the Cross in front of his face, then he shone the torch upwards.

  Again it fell upon the hunched form and a pair of burning eyes; but this time he kept it there. Round the eyes there was dark shaggy hair; below them a huge mouth, in which two rows of yellowish, gleaming teeth were gnashing. Chattering with fury, the creature began to leap up and down, its long limbs throwing grotesque shadows against the stairs behind it. C.B.’s voice came, no longer sharp from tension, but level and unhurried

  `The fact that it didn't come down and attack us made me think that this particular bogy must be chained up; and I was right. Its chain is attached to a post in the wall of the upper landing.'

  John moved up beside him. For a moment they both stood staring at the creature on the stairs. It was a big ape; not as large as a baboon, but quite big enough to maul a man and do him serious injury. The chain was attached to a thick leather belt round its waist.

  `The presence of this pretty pet in addition to the oubliette makes one thing quite certain,' said C. B. softly. `There is something up at the top of the house that friend Beddows is extraordinarily anxious that no one shall see.'

  `Yes. But how the devil are we to get up there?'

  `As you know, I've got quite a way with animals; so given an hour or two I don't doubt that I could tame this chap sufficiently for him to let us pass. But we haven't got that time to spare; so we'll have to take stronger measures.'

  As C. B. spoke, he turned away towards the nearest of four doors that were ranged round the landing. It opened on to a bedroom. Beside the bed hung an old fashioned bell pull. Getting up on a chair he detached the rope from the wire spring and handed it to John, with the remark

  `This is just the thing with which to secure our furry friend. By slipping one end of the rope through the pull ring at the other you'll have a lasso that will run much more smoothly than if you knotted a loop. I want you to throw it over his head when I give the word. Get it well down to his waist, so that it pinions his arms, and tie it as tight as you can. But watch out that he doesn't claw you with his feet.'

  Taking the eiderdown from the bed, C. B. led the way back to the stairs and propped his torch up on the lowest one, so that its beam shone full upon the angry, snarling animal. Holding the eiderdown in front of him by two of its corners, he went up a few steps until he was near enough to flick its lower end as a matador does his cape. The enraged ape sprang at him, but was brought up with

  a jerk by the chain. C. B. darted forward up two more stairs, threw the eiderdown over the brute and grasped it firmly round the body.

  `Quick, John!' he called; and next moment, squeezing past him, John had the rope round the heaving bundle. The strength and fierceness of the ape made it a far from easy matter to truss him securely, but the rope was long enough to take a second turn round his thighs, and after that had been managed the rest was easy. They rolled him up in his own chain till they had him up on the top landing, and there slipped his feet through a half hitch in it.

  To secure the creature without injury to themselves had required all their attention as well as their strength, so it was not until the job was done that either of them noticed another surprise that was in store for them. The top landing was quite small and had only two doors leading from it. From under one of them came a ribbon of light.

  They would not have noticed it, had it not been almost dark up there, owing to C. B. having left his torch at the bottom of the stairs. It was faint, but quite unmistakable, as its glow was enough to show the outline of the ape's water trough and a tin tray on which were the remains of his last meal. Their attention was caught by the narrow strip of light almost at the same second, and they looked quickly at one another, wondering what this new mystery could portend.

  Why should there be a light in a room at the top of the house in the middle of the night, unless the room was occupied? If it was, even if its occupant had dropped asleep with the light still on, he must have been roused by the noise made by his guardian ape and the struggle with it that had ensued. Why, knowing that intruders were in the house, and on their way up to his well protected sanctum, had he shown no sign of life?

  Stretching out a hand, C. B. grasped the door handle firmly and turned it. But the door did not yield to his pressure: it was locked. Not a sound came from beyond it. Except for the faint scuffling of the trussed ape, the house was again utterly silent.

  John slipped down the stairs, retrieved the torch and shone it on the door. The light revealed nothing to indicate the use to which the room was put. Apart from the black oak beams in the walls and ceiling, the woodwork of this upper landing was painted cream; but it looked as if a dozen years or more had passed since it had received its last coat. About the bare boards of the floor the ape had scattered some of its food; otherwise the landing was reasonably clean, but the door showed the slight griminess and innumerable small scratches that only time can bring. It seemed reasonable to assume that they led either to box rooms or servants' bedrooms.

  For a second it flashed into C.B.’s mind that Christina might have been wrong about the Jutson couple being her father's only servants. Perhaps he had some other private retainer; or had taken someone else on since she had left The Grange, and they had their quarters up here. But that seemed unlikely when there was such a good choice of rooms more conveniently situated at the back of the premises. Again, why should they seek to protect themselves with an oubliette and a ferocious ape? If they had sought refuge up in these remote attics, behind such ugly barriers, of what were they afraid? If they were huddled in terrified silence behind the door, what form of menace could it possibly be that they must be expecting to see come through it at any moment now?

  C. B, knocked on the door. There was no reply. Again he rapped, louder this time. Still not a sound came from the room. Putting his shoulder to the door, he threw his weight upon it. The upper part gave slightly but the lock held. Taking a few steps back he ran at the door, lifting his right foot so that it landed flat across the key hole with the full force of the kick behind his heel. There was a sound of tearing wood and the door flew open.

  The room was much larger than they had expected, and lofty enough for the crossbeams of its roof to be only vaguely discernible by a dim blue light that radiated from the centre of its floor. It was, in fact, a huge attic which must have occupied the full breadth and nearly half the length of the ,'house. In it there was no furniture, carpet or curtains, and its three dormer windows appeared to have been pasted over
with thick brown paper. The low walls were naked; the whole place was as empty as a drum but for a single human figure and a number of strange objects in its immediate vicinity.

  Of these, the thing that first sprang to the eye was a great five pointed star. It was formed of long glass tubes, all connected together in the same manner as strip lighting designed to show the name over a shop; and through their whole length glowed electric wires that gave off the cold blue light. Five tall white candles were placed in the points of the star; but these were unlit, so evidently there only against an emergency failure of the electric current. Behind them were placed five bright, brand new horseshoes. In the valleys of the star were five little silver cups half full of water and some bunches of herbs. More faintly seen were two thick circles that had been drawn in chalk on the floor. The inner, which was about seven feet across, connected the valleys of the star; the outer, which was very much bigger, connected its points. Between the two were chalked a number of Cabalistic formula and the signs of the Zodiac.

  Unmoving, in the very centre of the star sat a man. He was dressed in striped pyjamas and socks, but appeared to have on several layers of underclothes beneath the pyjamas, as their coat was stretched tightly across his chest. He was short, thick set and looked about fifty. His hair was dark, his face broad, and his square, determined jowl so blue with bristles that it looked as if he had not shaved for a week. He was sitting cross legged upon a thick pile of blankets, his back lightly touching a large tea chest, and he was facing the door.

  Neither of his uninvited visitors had the least doubt who he was. C. B. took a step into the room and said, `We must apologise for breaking in on you like this, Mr. Beddows; but our business is extremely urgent.'

  The man neither moved nor spoke.

  `You are Henry Beddows, aren't you?' C. B. asked. Still the man stared through them as though they were not there.

  `Come on!' exclaimed John impatiently. `We've come all the way from the South of France to see you. They told us at your office that you had gone abroad; and when we called here the Jutsons lied to us. Now we've run you to earth in spite of them, for goodness' sake stop pretending to be dumb. Your daughter Ellen is in great danger.'