John raised his dark eyebrows. ‘Such circles do really exist, then? I remember reading an article some months ago in the Sunday Empire News giving a most gruesome 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 be hypnotised, 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 hypnotised 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 practise sexual 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, Mother! 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.’
‘My dear, he was part of the original creation, and no amount of popular education can destroy that. It is simply that in modern times he has gone underground, and judging by the amount of havoc and misery there has been in the world during the present century he must be very pleased with the success of his latest stratagem. It was his own apparent abolition, resulting from the decay of religion, that gave him his big chance, and he is using it with a greater skill than he has ever displayed before in his attempts to ensnare mankind.’
‘You honestly believe that?’
‘I do. Now that more than half the people in the world have become godless, they have also become rudderless. Once they have put away from themselves the idea of a hereafter they think only of their own selfish ends of the moment. That leaves them an easy prey to unscrupulous politicians. Before they know where they are, they find themselves robbed of all personal freedom; their family life, which is their last tie with their better instincts, is broken up, and their children are taken from them, to be educated into robots lacking all individuality. That is what nearly happened in Nazi Germany and what has happened in Russia; and if that is not the state of things that Satan would like to see everywhere, tell me what is?’
John did not reply. Instead, after a moment’s thought, he asked, ‘Have you any idea where Christina fits into all this?’
‘No. I have heard that now and then one of those Paris finishing places is discovered to be no better than a high-class brothel. When girls who are just becoming women are cooped up together they corrupt one another very easily, you know; and in the type of place that caters for those whose parents want to be rid of them for two or three years at a stretch, an unscrupulous principal with a clever man behind her might get away with a vice racket of that kind for quite a long time without being found out. As sexual promiscuity is the first step towards greater evils, if Christina was at such a place she may have got herself involved in something there. But somehow I don’t think so. She does not give me the impression of a girl who has gone very far down the slope of her own free will. I am more inclined to think that she is the victim of a spell, and has been bewitched.’
‘If we can get hold of C.B., do you think he will be able to free her from the … er … sort of trouble you have in mind?’
‘I don’t know, Johnny. We can only hope so. All I do know is that in the course of his job he must have picked up a lot about the principles on which Satanists work, and he is the only person I know of who may be able to advise us what to do. Even if he is busy I feel sure he will come if he possibly can, as, quite apart from any wish to help the girl, there is the de Grasse angle, and that should prove an additional justification for him to leave his office.’
Three-quarters of an hour later, Molly succeeded in getting Lieutenant-Colonel William Verney on the telephone. They then talked for a few minutes in the curious jargon that such people had used in the war, even when their conversations were protected from listeners-in by a scrambler. It consisted of short phrases, interspersed with apparently irrelevant allusions to mutual friends, places, books and past happenings, which could mean little to any third person, but rang bells in the minds of both. She proved right in her belief that he would respond to her appeal; and it was agreed that, unless he telegraphed her that he had been unable to get a seat on the plane, she should meet him at Nice airport on the following day.
In consequence, in spite of the concern she was feeling about Christina, Molly went to bed in a happy frame of mind; while the girl fell into a heavy slumber as a result of the draught she had been given. But John lay long awake, turning over and over all that his mother had said about Satanism, veering between belief and disbelief.
At length he dropped off, but only to become the victim of a nightmare, in which he was chained to a rock and an angel and a devil were fighting over him. Both of them had Christina’s face, and while that of the angel glowed with beauty, that of the devil was rendered peculiarly horrifying by the fact that luminous smoke was curling up from its flared nostrils.
In the morning, c
ontrary to custom, his mother had him called and his breakfast brought to him at eight-thirty; so he was dressed and downstairs well before ten. From her he learned that Christina had had a good night, was none the worse for her experiences of the previous evening, and had gone over to her own villa to change her clothes, but had promised to return as soon as she had done so.
A quarter of an hour later she came in through the sitting-room window, looking a little subdued but otherwise perfectly normal, and very pretty in a square-necked frock adorned with broad bands of red and yellow peasant embroidery. In the morning sunshine it seemed difficult to believe that she was the same girl whose eyes had glared hatred during a fit as a result of having a crucifix pitched to her, in that very room, little more than twelve hours before. But all three of them were uncomfortably aware that no good purpose could be served by refraining from going into the matter, and Molly set about it with commendable briskness.
‘Tell me, my dear,’ she said as they sat down, ‘how much do you remember about what happened last night?’
Christina turned her big, frank brown eyes upon her questioner. ‘A certain amount, but not everything. There are some quite big gaps.’
‘Is it usual for you to have those sort of lapses of memory about much of what has been happening to you the night before?’
‘Yes. Somehow at night I seem to be quite a different person. I often get up and roam about, and at such times I get all sorts of nasty impulses of a kind that I rarely have during the day. As far as I know I don’t often give way to them, but I can’t be quite certain of that, because afterwards I nearly always get these blackouts. The thought of what I may have done during them distresses and frightens me next morning. But to the best of my belief I do remember if I have actually done anything wicked, because I have had numerous instances of that. Any really definite action seems to register permanently in my mind.’
‘Can you give us any examples?’
‘Well, for one thing, I’m afraid I’m a thief.’ Christina lowered her eyes and went on unhappily, ‘Honestly, I don’t mean to be; but several times in Paris I stole trinkets and scent and money from the other girls at night. When I remembered what I had done the following morning I was terribly ashamed. Fortunately I was able to put the things back before my thefts were noticed; and no others were reported. It is that which makes me believe that when I do give way to these awful impulses I know what I have done when I wake up.’
‘Was the impulse to steal the only one that came to you?’
‘No. I seem to become horribly malicious. My best friend was engaged to be married. One night I stole the love-letters that her fiancé had written to her, and burnt them down in the furnace. Several times I used a steel crochet hook to make ladders in other girls’ stockings and spilt ink on their clothes, but I was so cunning that they never found out who had done it. Then I became subject to a special feeling about anything connected with religion. It is a sort of mixture of hatred and fear. I can’t bring myself to touch any sacred object, but … but I’ve defiled them. Three times I did that with little lockets containing holy symbols belonging to different girls. There was a frightful row afterwards, but no one had the least suspicion that I was the culprit.’
‘Is there anything else you can tell us about your state during these midnight forays?’ Molly asked after a moment.
Christina flushed, and her voice was very low. ‘Yes. I realise that if you are going to help me I ought not to keep anything back. Sometimes I feel the most awful urge towards immorality—but I’d rather not talk about that.’
‘Let’s go back to last night,’ said Molly, promptly changing the line of the conversation. ‘Do you remember my throwing a crucifix to you, and what happened then?’
‘Yes,’ Christina replied in a whisper. ‘As it touched me it felt like a live coal. I sprang up and screamed. Then you said that I was possessed by the Devil.’
‘I know it was a terrible thing to say, my dear; but do you think you are?’
‘I don’t know. At times I’ve wondered if I am, myself. But why should I be? What can I possibly have done to deserve such an awful fate?’
So far John had not spoken; but seeing that the girl was now very near to tears, he stretched out his hand, took one of hers, and pressed it. ‘We are sure it’s not your fault. Even if it’s true—even if you have done something to bring it on yourself—Mother and I wouldn’t stop wanting to help you. And we wouldn’t like you any the less.’
‘Thanks.’ She gave him a faint smile and let her hand remain in his, as Molly added, ‘John is quite right about that; and my own belief is that it is nothing you have done, but that somebody has bewitched you. Have you ever known anybody who was interested in witchcraft, magic or sorcery?’
‘I don’t think so. In Paris one of the girls used to tell fortunes with a pack of cards; but one couldn’t really call that witchcraft, could one? And she wasn’t very good at it. As a matter of fact I could do it far better myself, but I didn’t; not when I was there. I gave it up several years ago, because it frightened me. Twice when I was at that school in Somerset I predicted serious accidents; and in one case I saw death in the cards, although I didn’t say so, and the person died a month later.’
Molly nodded. ‘Such an uncanny gift is additional proof that you have some special link with occult powers; and evidently it is not a recent one. How long is it since you took to prowling about at night, and feeling these distressing impulses?’
‘Ever since I can remember; but, as I told you the other day, when I was young it took the form of sleep-walking. It may have been because I did naughty things at such times that Delia was so unkind to me. I didn’t even begin to be aware of what I was doing until I was thirteen, and even then it came as a gradual transition. I must have been over seventeen before I was fully conscious when I got out of bed at nights. But the occasions on which I did so were fairly few and far between, and the impulses I felt were neither as strong nor as wicked. It is only during the past year that I have been getting so much worse. That is what frightens me so much.’
‘Have you ever been to a séance, or gone in for table-turning and just for a lark called on the Devil to aid your enquiries?’
‘No, never.’
‘And there is no special episode in your childhood, or anything else you can remember, that might have a bearing on your present state?’
‘No. I have already told you everything about my life that I can think of.’
There fell a pause, then John asked, ‘How about Canon Copely-Syle? I wouldn’t mind betting that he didn’t turn up here by chance, and that the story he told you about your father having had a serious accident was a fake, designed to get you away from your villa. I didn’t know it when we met the Marquis de Grasse at Cannes, but Mother has since told me that he is a crook. The fact that the Canon introduced you to him, and his son afterwards tried to get you on to their yacht, makes the case against the Canon pretty black. In fact, it is ten to one that he is at the bottom of the whole business.’
‘Yes. I came to that conclusion yesterday; although I then had little more than my instinct to go on. It was that which made me refuse to go on the yacht yesterday afternoon, when Count Jules took me down to the harbour and pressed me to. It was only after I had made an excuse not to, and dug my toes in, that he invited me to dine on board instead; and as he had first made certain that I had no engagement for the evening, I could think of no way to wriggle out of accepting. But I’m afraid I can’t help much about the Canon. I told you all I know about him on the morning of his visit.’
‘There are two things you can tell us,’ Molly said, ‘although I hesitate to ask you, and I wouldn’t if I didn’t think it important that we should know them. They are your real name, and your father’s address.’
Christina shook her head. ‘I’d rather not break my promise to him.’
‘Just as you like, my dear. But when he asked you for it, neither of you could possibly foresee the sort
of thing that has happened since; and if he knew how you were situated at present I feel sure he would release you from it. You see, now that the Canon has discovered your hiding-place, and it looks as if he is employing crooks to get hold of you, we have to face the fact that however carefully John and I endeavour to guard against it, you might be taken from us. If that happened our best hope of getting you back would be to call in the police; and it might be a great help to them in tracing you if we could give them your proper name and enable them to communicate with your father.’
For a moment Christina considered the matter, then she said with sudden decision, ‘All right. My name is Ellen Beddows, and we live at The Grange, Little Bentford, near Colchester. My father is Henry Beddows of Beddows Agricultural Tractors.’
‘Thank you, my dear. Of course we shall continue to call you Christina, and you may be sure we will not abuse your confidence. Now, there is just one other thing. Your father must hold the key to both your own peculiar state and the mystery of why the Canon is so anxious to get hold of you. Don’t you really think the time has come when we should try to get in touch with him?’
‘No!’ Christina’s voice was firm. ‘He told me that it was unlikely that his office would know where to find him, and even if they did I must not ring him up. I have already broken one promise that I gave him, and there is some reason to believe that he may be in danger himself; so I will do nothing which might bring him here and perhaps place him in greater danger still.’
‘Very well then.’ Molly stood up. ‘I must leave you now, because I have to drive to Nice to meet a friend of mine at the airport. He is coming to stay for a few days, and I do hope you will like him, as it is really you who he is flying out from England to see.’
To the Devil, a Daughter Page 9