To The Devil A Daughter mf-1

by Dennis Wheatley

  Then her letters grew more infrequent, and after two intervals of ten days they stopped altogether. If I'd been a town chap I suppose I would have telegraphed her to know what was wrong, but sending cables to foreign countries was away over the head of a young country feller like I was in those days. I put her silence down to the young doctor. You see, I'd never been able to convince myself that I was good enough for her; so I didn't even write and ask her to let me know if she had changed her mind about marrying me. I just let my misery have free reign, and decided to stop writing till I heard from her again.

  `About three weeks went by like that; then one day, as Mrs. Durnsford was getting into the car, she told me quite casual that Isobel was dead. It was a dirty, wicked lie may her soul rot ! But I never found that out until years later; in fact not until after she was dead herself. She had no near relatives, and when she died her executors sold off the whole contents of the house as well as the place. I had my own furniture, and I didn't want any of hers; but I thought the shelves in the study would look a bit bare without some books, so I bought those at the sale. Naturally, the executors removed her private papers, but there was one lot they overlooked. I came on them soon after I moved in. They were with a pack of Tarot cards and a collection of witch's brew recipes in what was left of a big old family Bible that had had its middle cut out to form a box. Among them was a score of letters from Isobel to me that I had never had.

  `It was quite clear then what had happened. My post had always been delivered to the house with the rest of the letters before being brought across the yard to me by one of the maids. The old bitch must have seen a letter with Swiss stamps on addressed to me in Isobel's writing, steamed it open and read it. In our letters we naturally wrote of our love for one another and of our future plans. The thought of people being happy and making life better for a lot of crippled kids would have been poison to old Mother Durnsford. I bet she got no end of a kick out of sabotaging all our hopes. It would have been easy for her to intercept Isobel's letters a few at first, then all of them later on. That's what she had done; and when she judged that she had got me really worried she both provided an explanation why I had not received any letters from Isobel for the past few weeks and gave me the knock out; because the inference was that for some time before her death Isobel had been too ill to write. Mother Durnsford had rounded the affair off nice and neatly the other end too. The envelope of Isobel's last letter was marked `to await collection' and I saw from it that the old woman had written her saying that I'd gone away and left no address.

  `Even that was not the full measure of her malice. Naturally, after I thought Isobel was dead I went all to pieces for a bit. But I was young and healthy, and next spring I started to tumble Hettie evenings in the barn. I've told you how she got in the family way with Ellen and spilled the beans about it. That must have given Mother Durnsford a fine old laugh. I didn't know it then, but she had learned from Isobel's letters how anxious I was to educate and improve myself. Nothing could have been more likely to scotch that than to tie me up to a brainless little working class slut who was going to have a kid, and would probably go on producing them like rabbits.

  `Well, it didn't work out that way. But she succeeded in robbing me of Isobel; and you are quite right in your idea that losing her altered my whole life. I still don't see, though, what that has to do with the Canon and Ellen.'

  John had listened to Beddows' love story with intense interest, and now he asked, `Did you ever find out what happened to Isobel?'

  `Yes. After I found those letters I had enquiries made. There had been a world war in between, but they succeeded in tracing her up. She did die, but not till nearly a year after I believed her dead; and ever since I learned that I've been tortured by the belief that she just let herself die of a broken heart.'

  `Say she had lived, Mr. Beddows, and you had found out sooner that she was alive would you have married her after your first wife died?'

  `Of course I would.!

  'But you couldn't possibly have married a person as fine as she was, unless you had first forsworn the Devil. To have continued secretly as a Satanist would have robbed your marriage with her of all the genuine happiness you expected to derive from it.'

  `Yes; I see that,' Beddows admitted slowly. `Still, love is the greatest protective force in existence. I think hers would have proved strong enough to shield me from all but loss of my worldly wealth. Anyhow, it's true that I should have had to abjure in order to put myself right with her; and for her sake I would have risked anything.'

  `You must have loved her very deeply.'

  `More than anything in this world or the next.'

  `Then you will be able to understand how I feel, Mr. Beddows, when I tell you that I love your daughter.'

  Beddows raised his eyebrows. `Is that so? You haven't known her very long, have you?'

  `No; but in the hours we have spent together much more has happened than during an ordinary courtship. We are already engaged to be married.'

  For the first time a glint of humour showed in Beddows' brown eyes as he asked, `Am I to take it that you've come here to night to ask my consent?'

  `We should be glad to have your blessing,' John answered seriously. `But first we need the help that only you can give. And you know how desperately we need it.'

  `I'm sorry. Indeed I am. But it's no good harking back to that.'

  `Mr. Beddows, you have just said that you loved Isobel more than anything in this world or the next. That implies that you still love her spirit. If it were here in this room to night as it may well be and could speak to you, what would it say? You know as well as I do that it would beg you to become again the person it knew and loved. It would urge you to defy Satan in order to save your daughter and make possible the happiness of another pair of lovers.'

  `Yes,' Beddows muttered. `That's what it would say.'

  `Then if you still love her, do this for her sake.'

  The eyes of the man in the pentacle suddenly blazed, and he shouted, `Damn you, stop torturing me! I can’t! I won’t! Get to hell out of here P

  After his long and skilful guidance of their talk, John had felt that he was almost on the verge of victory; so

  Beddows' outburst came as a bitter disappointment. For a moment he remained silent, searching his mind for some last card that might yet win him over. To his distress he could think of nothing approaching the potency of the arguments he had already used; so he could only fall back upon what he felt to be a frail piece of reasoning, unlikely to alter a mind so evidently fixed by terror in its determination. Nevertheless he threw out the suggestion with no lessening of persistence.

  `You were saying a little while ago that if Isobel had still been alive and you had abjured to put yourself right with her, you thought that her love would have protected you from all but the loss of your worldly wealth. Surely, although she is now a spirit, her love would continue to protect you?'

  `No.' Beddows' voice was firm. `For all I know, during those last months she may have believed that I had deliberately jilted her, and died hating me. I can't afford to chance that. There is one thing and one thing only that could protect me. That is to cheat Satan by getting back the Pact I signed with him.'

  John's muscles tensed. `D'you know where it is?' `Copely Syle has it.'

  `I naturally supposed so; but he wouldn't carry it about on him. I mean, do you know where he keeps it?'

  `I don't know for certain, but I can give a good guess. It is a hundred to one that after offering it up he would place a document of that kind under the Satanic altar in his crypt.'

  `Then ...' John hesitated.

  Beddows flung out his hands in a violent gesture of protest. `No, no! Don't think of it. Forget what I said! You're young and healthy! You should have many years of happiness ahead of you. There are plenty of other girls in the world besides Ellen. You would be crazy to try to raise that altar. You would be blasted where you stood. If you did survive you would be found as a gib
bering idiot in the morning. I wouldn't let my worst enemy attempt to get that Pact.'

  Slowly John stood up. `If I do get it, and give it to you to destroy, will you swear to me by your love for Isobel immediately to abjure Satan?'

  A shudder ran through Beddows. With eyes distended by horror he stared up at John. For a moment he was silent, then he gasped, `All right! I swear. But I warned you: I warned you! You'll be going to your death.'

  22

  The Devil's Altar

  The palms of John's hands were already sweating. His memory of the impotence and fear he had felt when in the crypt twenty four hours earlier was still vivid in his mind; yet he had made his decision the moment Beddows had spoken of the Pact as the price on which he must insist for his co operation.

  John had come there determined to secure that co operation somehow; not only because it could bring to naught the Canon's attempt to get Christina out of prison during the night that was already upon them, but also because on that depended her whole future. To save her from an abominable death at the hands of Copely Syle was the overriding consideration for the moment, but even success in that could later prove a barren victory if she were to continue to be the nightly victim of evil cravings which, now she was out in the world, must soon lead her to become cynically immoral, decadent, unscrupulous and, perhaps, criminal. Only her father could save her from that by ratting on his bargain with the Devil. Since his price for that was the Pact, he must have it.

  The mere idea of going into the crypt again filled John with terrifying qualms. He felt that to argue the matter further could only weaken his resolution, and that in immediate action lay his sole hope of maintaining it long enough to force himself to enter that Satanic stronghold Then he got there; so he said abruptly

  `Perhaps you are right, and I'll be dead in an hour. If not, I'll be back here.' Then he turned towards the door.

  'Hi C. B. called after him. `If we've got to do this thing, we had better take some weapons with us.'

  `You are not in this!' John's voice was made surly by fear. `This is my show. You stay where you are.'

  `Is it likely?' C. B. grunted. `I've never liked anything less in my life; but how could I ever face your mother if I let you go alone?' Turning to Beddows, he said, `These cups in the valleys of the pentacle have Holy water in them, haven't they? Where's the rest of it?'

  Reaching behind him into the tea chest, Beddows produced a quart bottle half full. As he handed it over, C. B. asked :

  `Have you any spare horse shoes?'

  `No. I'm afraid not.'

  `That's a pity,' muttered C. B. `And I daren't deprive you of any of your defences, in case something gets at you while we are away. I suppose you haven't got a crucifix in the house?'

  Beddows shook his head. `Of course not! I could hardly bear to look at one, and it would burn me if I touched it. As it was I had to be mighty careful when I poured the Holy water out: if I had spilt any on my hands it would have scalded me.'

  John was already at the door. Without another glance at Beddows, C. B. joined him and they hurried downstairs. When they reached the hall John made for the baize door, but C. B. called after him

  `Hold your horses! We've got to forge a few astral weapons before we leave here. I wish to goodness we had a little time to make proper preparations. We ought to have necklaces of garlic and asafetida grass, not to mention purifying ourselves with the smoke of sweet herbs and putting on clean underclothes. Still, we must do the best we can.'

  As he spoke he led the way through the breakfast room to the pantry, and began to pull open its rows of drawers one after another. In one he found string and scissors, in another a bundle of firewood. Handing them to John, he said

  `Here, take these. Use four of the sticks to make two crosses. Bind them together with the string and attach long loops to them so that we can hang them round our necks.' In a corner of the room were stacked several crates. The top ones contained quart bottles of beer, but underneath found one holding small bottles of lemonade. Taking two of them, he opened and emptied them at the sink; ten refilled them with Holy water and corked them roughly with tight wads of screwed up newspaper. `Put this in your pocket,' he said, handing one of them John. `And don't use it until I tell you to.' The other pocketed himself.

  Picking up a broom that stood behind the door, he wrenched out the long handle, then laid it over a Windsor chair and snapped it in two pieces about one third of the way up. With another length of string he lashed them together, so that they formed a large cross to carry in the hand. After a quick look round, he went to the further door that led to the rear quarters of the house, opened it and said

  `I am going to hunt round for something with which to rise up the altar slab. In the meantime pull down some curtains, soak them with water and carry them out to the car. Unbolt the front door and go out by that. It will save me time

  John did as he was told, and he was still piling the sopping mess on the floor in front of the back seat when C. B. rejoined him, carrying a steel case opener. As he held it out, he remarked, `This is not much bigger than my own jemmy, but the best thing I could find. You take and I'll carry the cross.'

  As they got in the car and he started up the engine, John said, `I take it the wet things are for throwing down the furnace chimney?'

  `Yes. We've been lucky here in finding that the Jutsons go to bed early; but it's only just eleven o'clock; so that coloured servant of the Canon's may still be up. I had thought of going to the front door and knocking him out soon as he answered it. We would be almost sure of having the free run of the place then, as it is most unlikely sat anyone who performs the Canon's tricks would have any other servants living in; but the door to the crypt is of iron and has a Chubb lock. As Copely Syle keeps the key to it on him we wouldn't be able to get in that way; so I think we would do better to ignore the Egyptian and go straight in down the chimney.'

  A few minutes' drive brought them to The Priory. Pulling up a hundred yards short of it, John parked the car under the trees that overhung the road, and they got out. A light wind had risen, keeping off more rain, but the sky was four fifths scudding cloud and it was only when the moon broke through at intervals for a minute or two that there was enough light for them to see their way at all clearly.

  Carrying the sopping curtains between them, they broke through the hedge into the coppice and approached the house by the route that John had taken the previous night. On reaching the crypt they dumped their burden and made a brief reconnaissance round the house and back. No light showed in any of the windows; so it looked as if the Egyptian had gone to bed. C. B., as the taller, gave John a leg up, passed him the bundle of curtains, and scrambled on to the roof after him. In single file they crossed it to the chimney.

  `Now,' said C. B. in a low voice, `I needn't stress the fact that we are going into great danger. We must kneel down and pray.'

  Side by side they went down on their knees, and remained so in silence for a few minutes. As they got up, C. B, murmured, `I wish I could remember the Twenty third Psalm. It is said to be exceptionally potent as a protection against demons. Do you recall how it goes?'

  John shook his head. `I think it is the one that has in it “though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil”; but I can't say for certain.'

  `Then we had better stick to the Lord's Prayer. Keep on repeating it to yourself; and if anything nasty comes at you cry aloud, “In the name of Jesus Christ I defy thee, Satan.” '

  John dropped the curtains down the wide chimney mouth. As they fell on the furnace at its bottom with a faint thud, he made to follow them; but C. B. pushed him firmly aside. `No, John. I am carrying the cross; so you must let me be the leader of this party. What is more, if at any time I tell you to get out, you will get out, and not stop to argue about it. By doing so you will not only save yourself, but will be able to bring help, with at least some chance of saving me later. Is that clear?'

  As John nodded, C. B
. swung his long legs over the chimney lip, found the first rungs inside and disappeared down it. Dropping the last few feet, he landed on the wet curtains. Beneath them the coke made a crunching sound, but the fire was dull and he scarcely felt its heat as he jumped off it.

  The crypt was in darkness. Holding the cross in his left hand, he pulled his torch from his pocket with his right and switched it on. The instant he could see his way, he ran up the steps that led to the iron door and brushed down all the switches beside it, flooding the central aisle of the crypt with light. Pushing the torch back in his pocket he turned, planted his back firmly against the door, and only then let his glance rove round the vaulted chamber.

  There was less change in it than he had expected from what Inspector Fuller had implied. The curtains at the far end, embroidered with the Goat of Mendes and the Woman with Seven Breasts, were gone; so were the sorcerer's robes, the altar cloth, the black candle, and the broken crucifix with the bat nailed upside down on it but the sword, the chalice and the book still reposed upon the altar slab, looking not inappropriate in the role of harmless ornaments. The skeleton still dangled grotesquely from its wire and the mummy case lay undisturbed beneath the nearest table; but both were the sort of exhibits that might be found in the museum workshop of any amateur scientist. That also applied to the astrolabe, the six out of the seven great glass jars that had contained the homunculi, and the bottles, measures, balances and retorts that loaded the four long refectory tables.

  One sweeping glance was enough for C. B. to take that much in, and he had hardly had time to register it before John thumped down on the furnace, sprang off it and pulled the now steaming curtains after him. Neither had the least intention of staying there one moment longer than they had to, and both simultaneously started forward towards the altar. They had taken only two steps when a cock crowed.

  The cock's raucous challenge, seeming unnaturally loud as it echoed from the stone arches overhead, sounded like the voice of doom. The two men halted in their tracks. The blood rushed to their hearts. Fearfully they jerked white faces round towards the left hand aisle and the shadowy tier of cages behind the row of pillars, from which the crowing came.