To The Devil A Daughter mf-1

by Dennis Wheatley

  They were still about five miles from the open sea, but approaching a great area of lakes, creeks and islands known as Hansford Water. To their left there were still occasional farms and coppices, but to their right was only an almost trackless waste of marshes. The road was straight, flat and empty; so they could see a considerable way along it, and about two miles out of Thorpe le Soken they sighted a lorry coming towards them. As it came nearer C. B. exclaimed

  `By Jove ! I believe this is it. Pull into the centre of the road, John, and signal it to stop.'

  As the two vehicles pulled up within a few yards of one another, C. B. got out. A glance showed him that the lorry was empty, but it answered the description he had been given, as did also the small ferret faced man who was the sole occupant of its cabin. Walking up to him, C. B. said:

  `Good afternoon. You are Joe Cotton, aren't you?'

  `Yes, guvnor.'

  `I thought so.' C.B.’s smile was a triumph of candid innocence. `You have done the job quicker than we expected. Canon Copely Syle will be pleased about that, providing you've done it all right. But he is nervous as a cat on hot bricks about the safe delivery of his stuff, so he sent us after you to make certain the big crate had come to no harm.'

  Cotton gave C. B. a rather doubtful stare. `Why would 'e do that, when 'e sent the other gent wiv me so as 'e could help wiv the unloading 'isself?'

  `Because that crate is very valuable. The Canon wanted confirmation that everything was O.K. as soon as possible.' `Well, I'm giving it you, ain't I?

  'All the same, I think you'd better turn round and come with us, so that we can vouch for it to him that we have seen that everything is all right for ourselves.'

  `What d'you want me to come wiv you for?' Cotton's close set eyes showed sudden suspicion.

  `He told us the road to take; but we are strangers in these parts, and we'll lose a lot of time if we miss our way across the marshes.'

  `So that's the lay, is it? You don't know where I bin an' want me ter take yer there. Nothin' doin', guv'nor.'

  As Cotton spoke his ferrety face had become taut with something between fear and anger.

  C. B, saw that his bluff had failed; but he showed no resentment. As he had nothing on the man he decided that bullying him would get him nowhere; so he shrugged and said with a smile

  `You're a fly one, Cotton. It didn't take you long to see through me, did it? Still, there's no harm done, and I've private reasons for wanting to know where you delivered that crate. How about a tenner to take us near enough to point out the house; and we won't let on afterwards that it was you who put us wise?'

  `Not for ten quid, nor for twenty,' came the prompt reply. `I ain't done nothin' wrong; but, all the same, I ain't tellin' no tales.'

  Starting up his engine, Cotton swung one wheel of his lorry on to the grass verge, scraped past the car and drove off down the road.

  `Blast the fellow!' exclaimed John angrily. `That's the second trick we've lost to day.'

  `We didn't lose it altogether,' C. B. murmured more philosophically. `When a man like that says “I ain't done nothin' wrong”, you can be quite certain that he has. He wouldn't have refused a tenner without a good reason, either, and a suspicion that we might be connected with the police.'

  `Even if he knew what the crate contained, there is nothing illegal in delivering it to a house.'

  `No. You noticed, though, that the woman in Thorpele Soken, who put us on his trail, was right about there having been two men in the cabin of the lorry when it passed her. Any guess who the other was?'

  'Upson?' said John, after a second.

  C. B. nodded. `Any guess where the crate has got to?' `Hell's bells!' John exclaimed. `They've put it aboard that blasted seaplane.'

  `Well done, Watson! You see now why friend Cotton was too scared to take a bribe to say where he had offloaded it. Seeing Upson's aircraft moored in some quiet creek miles from anywhere would have told him that it had come down there to evade the authorities, and he would know darn' well that to help load anything into it that had not been passed by the Customs was a serious offence.'

  `Of course! But let's get on. We may be able to find the seaplane and stop it before it takes off.'

  `Not much hope of that, I'm afraid. This group of creeks covers an area more than twice the size of Birmingham, and Cotton was over two hours ahead of us; so he may have taken the crate to a stretch of water miles from here.'

  `What filthy luck!' Exasperation made John almost spit with rage. `Then that swinish Canon has got the best of us again! He's put it out of our power to get hold of his homunculus and destroy it, anyhow for the next twentyfour hours. What a cunning move to have Upson fly it out to the Riviera, then bring it back in time for the ceremony, with Christina if they get her. But let's pray to God they won't. The only bright spot so far to day has been finding that he is still here, instead of having gone to France to work his filthy spells on her jailers.'

  `That is one thing that has been puzzling me,' C. B. said as he got back into the car. `The creation of fully functioning homunculi is Copely Syle's life work; so you can be certain that up to the very last moment he will strive to seize this chance of pulling it off. When I told him that Christina was in prison he immediately decided that he must go out there, and he changed his mind only when I persuaded him that I could do the necessary for him. His discovery that I was an impostor ruled that out; so why hasn't he gone himself? I can't believe for one second that he's chucked his hand in.'

  `No; but think of the work involved in getting that private hell of his cleared up in anticipation of a possible visit. It must have taken him all night and probably well into the morning to burn or bury all his animals and those awful deformed creatures he created. Obviously his first concern would be with that and getting his prize homunculus out of danger.'

  `That's true; and it gives me a nasty thought. As he was so fully occupied himself he may have decided to get somebody else to do what I offered to do for him. Since he is head of a coven he might have got in touch with one of his pals during the night. If so, they could have gone up to London first thing this morning and caught an aircraft from Northolt to Nice.'

  John groaned. `I never thought of that. If you're right, and they caught the earliest one, they will be in Nice by now.'

  `It's a possibility; so we can't ignore it, although I think it would take a pretty high grade Black to use effectively what amounts to hypnotism at a distance on several people he has never seen, with only their soiled garments as a medium. Anyway, we still have a choice of strong cards left. Earlier on you were arguing that we could save Christina by depriving the Canon of his homunculus. That is true, of course, but not the best way of expressing the core of the matter. To put it in a nutshell, we win out on the big issue if we can prevent any one of those three factors from joining up with the other two for the next thirty six hours. Our object in trying to get a summons against the Canon was to keep him from going to Nice. We failed to get the summons; but as it turns out he has remained here of his own accord. The homunculus will be brought back here, and possibly Christina. By keeping a watch on the Canon we should be able to cut in at the last moment and prevent their reaching him. Alternatively, by making full speed for London, we can still get on a Paris plane and be in Nice late this evening. We could then get Malouet to try to find out where Uison has brought his seaplane down, with the object of destroying the homunculus; and, should we fail in that, we might anyhow lend a hand in preventing Christina from being whisked out of prison. My own feeling is that our chances are pretty good either way; but this is really your party, John; so I'm going to leave the choice to you.'

  After a moment's thought, John said, `It will be dark before we can get to Nice; so if Copely Syle has sent a brother wizard down there, he may get Christina out before we arrive on the scene; and Malouet's chances of finding out at short notice where Upson comes down seems pretty problematical. Of course, that is taking the worst view. All the same, a bird in
the hand is worth two in the

  bush; so I think our best bet would be to remain here and concentrate on isolating the Canon.'

  `That seems sound to me. We'll return to Colchester, then collect our bags from the Red Lion and transfer to the Weavers Arms at Little Bentford. By making that our new H.Q. we will be able to maintain a twenty four hour turn and turn about watch on The Priory, with only half a mile's walk to relieve one another, and between watches get food and sleep. Let's go.'

  John drove on till he found a suitable place to reverse the car, then they drove through fourteen miles of twisting lanes back to Colchester. By two o'clock they had packed, paid their bill, and left. Half an hour later they took up their new quarters at Little Bentford and tossed to decide which of them should do the first two hour spell of duty. John lost, and went out to take up a position in the coppice from which he could keep an eye on The Priory without being seen. As he did so he thanked his stars that throughout the day the weather had taken a turn for the better; so it seemed unlikely that the dreary vigils he and C. B. promised to keep would be made additionally unpleasant by rain.

  He need not have concerned himself about the weather prospects for the night. At a quarter past three he came racing back to the inn and burst into its small Parlour. C. B. was just sitting down to an early tea, which he had hoped would make up a little for the lunch he had missed. He looked up to hear John shout:

  `Didn't you see that car go by? It was he, driven by his black servant. They've taken the road the lorry took this morning.'

  With a sigh, C. B. abandoned his untasted tea and followed John out to the yard, where they had parked the car under a lean to. Three minutes later they were on the road to Weeley. The Canon's car was out of sight; so they had to take a chance at the crossroads and, instead of continuing south, turned off to Thorpe le Soken. There they took another chance and turned north towards Great Oakley. They passed the place where they had met Joe Cotton in his lorry two an a half hours earlier, and still they had not picked up the Canon's car. It was not until they had covered another three miles that C. B. spotted a low moving blob that he thought must be it, far away to their right in the midst of the apparently trackless marshes.

  A quarter of a mile farther on they found a narrow track that led seaward, and took it. A few minutes later, after passing a patch of tall reeds, they caught sight of the car again, and some way beyond it the upper structure of the seaplane.

  `Look!' cried John bitterly. `I've been expecting this ever since I saw the road the Canon took out of Little Bentford. Upson didn't leave for France early this afternoon, as we thought. If only we had looked a round a bit we might have caught him in his lair, and made a darn' good bid to sink his aircraft.'

  `Once the horse was out of the stable, and one saw the direction it was taking, it was easy enough to guess where it would pull up,' C. B. agreed. `But we might have hunted this wilderness for a couple of days without catching sight of Upson's plane. Given a nice straight piece of Nile it would have been easier to find Moses among the bulrushes.'

  Within a few hundred yards of leaving the road, it became clear that they were not on the same track as the Canon's car had taken; but it also led towards the sheet of open water upon which the seaplane sat motionless.

  ,'Stop, John!' C. B. cried. `We must go back! This way we'll be cut off by the water from getting at him.'

  At that moment they came out from behind another wide patch of tall reeds and could again see the Canon's car. It had halted about four hundred yards away. Near it, on the water's edge, rose the roof of a low boat house. John had already put on the brake, but as the car continued to run forward at a slower pace they saw that the track curved round in the direction they wanted to go. Assuming that it joined the other further on, John took off the brake. Gathering speed again they covered another hundred yards, once more behind a screen of reeds. When they could next see the water, the Canon was out of his car and down by the boat house. Beside it lay a broad duck punt. In the punt stood a countryman holding a tall pole.

  The track had now become a narrow causeway and was very bumpy. As they bucketed along they could see the

  Canon looking in their direction. Only two hundred yards separated them from him. Stooping down, he made the gesture of picking up something from the ground. Raising his arm he appeared to throw it at them.

  John jerked his head aside. The car swerved violently.

  `Look where you're going not at him!' yelled C. B. But his shout of warning came too late. The near front wheel had gone over the edge of the low bank. The stiff reeds made a sharp rustling sound as they scraped along the coachwork of the car. Heaving on the steering wheel, John strove to right it; but the bank was too steep. The car heeled over sideways, ran on for a dozen yards, then lurched to a stop, both its near wheels axle deep in mud and water.

  `You idiot!' snapped C. B. `Why the hell didn't you keep your eyes on the track?'

  `I couldn't help ducking when he threw that stone,' John protested angrily. `It was instinct.'

  `He made the motion of throwing, but he didn't throw anything.'

  `Yes he did; a damn' great stone. It came hurtling straight at the windscreen.'

  `He didn't, I tell you. He couldn't have thrown anything that distance.'

  `I saw it.'

  `No you didn't,' C. B. said bitterly. `But I don't doubt you thought you did. It just shows what a powerful Black he is to have been able to cast the thought into your mind so successfully.'

  While they were speaking they had scrambled out of the car and started to run down the track. It curved again round another island of reeds, then came to an abrupt ending at a rough wooden landing stage.

  With a curse John made to plunge into the water. Grabbing his coat collar, C. B. pulled him back and cried, `Don't be a fool! The mud in these marshes is yards deep in places, and there are under water reeds as well. You would drown for a certainty.'

  To have run all the way back to the road, then down the other track which followed the far side of the creek on which they were standing, would have taken at least twenty minutes. Impotent and furious, they could only remain where they were, watching the final scene of their enemy's triumph.

  The coloured servant had already turned the Canon's car and was driving it back towards the road. The Canon was now in the punt and being poled out to the seaplane. They could see now that, although small and tubby, it was a powerful twin-​engined affair. Upson came to its door and helped his passenger aboard.

  As the labourer in the punt pushed off C. B. cupped his hands and yelled to him to come and pick them up, offering him treble the money he had received for ferrying out his last passenger if he would do so. He made the bid only as a forlorn hope and, as he expected, it proved futile. Either from fear of the Canon, or because he knew that he had been assisting an illegal emigration, the fellow ignored C.B.'s shouts, poled the punt back into the boathouse, then disappeared among the reeds. By that time Upson had the seaplane's engines running. Two minutes later it turned into the wind and ran forward. A double sheet of spray hissed up from beneath its stern and a quarter of a mile down the creek it sailed gracefully into the air.

  Returning to the car, they spent twenty minutes trying to get it unditched; but there was no brushwood, or anything else of that kind in the vicinity that they could stuff under the wheels to give them a grip; so they were forced to abandon their efforts.

  C. B. glanced at his watch and said, `This is not so good, John. It is a quarter-​past four and we are miles from anywhere. If we had the use of the car we could have reached London before dark and, perhaps, managed to hire a plane to fly us out to Nice; but that is ruled out now. It must be a good hour's tramp to the nearest village and in these little places they don't run to hire cars. By the time we've telephoned to Colchester and got a car to pick us up, then done the seventy miles to Northolt, it will be getting on for eight o'clock; and the aircraft of the private companies are not equipped for night flying.'
/>
  John looked a little puzzled as he replied, `But we decided to stay here.'

  `That was when we thought the Canon meant to stay here too, and we could keep a watch on him.'

  `I know; and the fact that he will now be down on the Riviera by about nine o'clock naturally adds to the chances of his being able to get Christina out of prison. After your visit last night he is certain to have telephoned de Grasse to make all the preliminary arrangements for his attempt; and now he'll have the whole of the night to work in. But all the same, it seems to me that we still have a good hope of spiking his guns at the last moment.'

  `You mean if the prison authorities do their stuff? I agree about that. From the moment the idea of putting her inside was mooted I felt that we were on a winner. And in spite of what the old so and so said to me last night I'd still lay three to one against his or any other Black Magician succeeding in getting her out at such short notice.'

  `No, I didn't mean that, C. B. I meant in the worst went saying that he does succeed. He has still got to bring her and the homunculus back here to morrow. Seaplanes can't just land anywhere. At least, this one can't if it is to fulfill its purpose of putting the Canon, Christina either unwillingly or unconscious and that heavy crate safely ashore. And I should think the odds are very much against his having another prepared base in this neighborhood, because he could hardly have foreseen that we should discover this one. Now that we have, you can go to the police, report his unauthorized departure from the country, and have it watched for their return. We'll relieve him of Christina as he lands, and have him and Upson arrested.'

  C. B. looked at John and his face was troubled. `It's a good idea, laddie; but I'm afraid it won't work out. Now he knows we know his base he is much too crafty to return to it. And there is more to it than that. You remember what we were saying a while ago; about our being certain of winning out on the big issue only if we could prevent one of the three factors Canon, homunculus and Christina from joining up with the other two? Well, that is now beyond our power. In a few hours' time all three of them will be in Nice. You know the story of Mahomet when he couldn't get the mountain to come to him? In this case Christina is the mountain; and so far the Canon has failed to budge her. Since we have made things so hot for him here, and the time in which to get her back is now so short, it is my bet that he decided this morning to do the job out there. That is why he had the homunculus put on the seaplane instead of hiding it in the house of a pal. And now Mahomet has gone to the mountain.'