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 halfway 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 halfway 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 terrified 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: ‘Wait 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 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 bogey 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 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.
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 doors 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.
C.B. knocked, but 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 fo
rce 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 formulae 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, thickset 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.’
The man’s hands began to tremble and he averted his eyes, but he did not speak.
Together John and C.B. advanced into the room. The latter said, ‘What my friend has told you is quite true, sir. At the moment your daughter is in prison. We are doing our best –’
‘In prison!’ exclaimed the man, coming swiftly to his feet. Then his expression changed from one of surprise to disbelief. Suddenly he stretched out his hand, made the sign of the Cross and cried loudly: ‘Avaunt thee, Satan!’
John stared at him and muttered, ‘Good Lord! I believe he’s mad.’
C.B. shook his head. ‘No, he’s not mad. And he is Beddows all right. His attitude explains the mystery of all we’ve found in this house. Somebody is after him and he is scared stiff. That is why he has gone into hiding. The oubliette and the ape were to prevent his enemy paying him a visit in person; but there is something which terrifies him much more than that. He is afraid that some frightful monster from one of the lower Astral planes may be sent to get his spirit. That’s why he has made this pentacle. He has locked himself up in what amounts to an Astral fortress, and he doesn’t believe that we are real people at all. He thinks we are evil entities sent to lure him from safety to destruction.’
Suddenly Beddows gave a defiant laugh, then cried, ‘And so you are! Your cunning talk does not deceive me! Get back to him who sent you!’
‘Don’t talk like a fool!’ John snapped at him. ‘Surely you can tell real people when you see them? We’re real and we’re friends. You’re the only person who can give us the truth about this whole awful business; and we’ve got to have it to help us in our fight to save Christina … to save Ellen.’
‘Liar! And spawn of the Father of Lies! Get back whence you came.’
‘We are real flesh and blood, I tell you!’ cried John angrily. ‘Since you won’t believe me I’ll prove it to you.’
As he moved forward to step into the pentacle, C.B. gave a warning shout. ‘Stop! The shock may kill him.’
But his cry came too late. In a stride John had crossed the line of blue light, and was stretching out a hand to touch Beddows.
The wretched man’s face became transfixed with terror. He threw up his arms, gave a piercing scream, and fell at John’s feet as though he had been poleaxed.
Chapter 18
Within the Pentacle
Beddows had fallen flat on his face. His outflung right hand had knocked over one of the small vases that stood in each of the valleys of the pentacle; but his magical fortress had suffered no other damage and the big five-pointed star still glowed without a flicker.
C.B.’s mind was racing with visions of an inquest and all sorts of awkward questions which might have to be answered; yet within a moment he had jumped forward to give John a hand. Together they turned over the limp body and got it up into a sitting position.
In the full light of C.B.’s torch the unconscious man’s face looked an ugly sight. His head now lolled back over the edge of the tea-chest, his mouth hung slackly open—a dark cavern in his heavy blue jowl—and the whites of his turned-up eyes could be seen between half-closed lids. John got his victim’s pyjama jacket open and tore frantically at the buttons of the three vests beneath it. As he exposed a V of hairy chest, C.B. thrust his free hand into the opening, held it there a moment, then gave a sigh of relief.
‘His heart is quite strong, and it doesn’t look as if he had a stroke. I think he fainted from sheer terror. He’ll probably be quite all right when he comes round.’
‘Thank God!’ John murmured. ‘From what you said I thought I’d killed him.’
Ignoring the remark, C.B. swivelled round, set the fallen vase upright, and picking up another poured from it about half its contents into the one that had been knocked over.
‘What’s the point of doing that?’ John asked.
‘To repair the breach in this Astral defence work, of course.’
‘Do you really think that herbs and horseshoes and candles can protect people from evil spirits?’
‘Certainly I do; if they are arranged in accordance with the proper formula. There are natural laws which govern everything. These, although scorned and ignored by modern science, are just as potent in achieving their object as a radar screen, or the use of our latest inventions for dispersing fog.’
John glanced round a little nervously. ‘After the terror I felt in that crypt tonight, I’m no longer sceptical about there being all sorts of horrors lurking in such a place as this; so it’s a comfort to know you think this bag of tricks will provide an effective protection for us.’
‘I’m not quite so worried about ourselves, as about him,’ C.B. said, and he began to slap Beddows’ face in an attempt to bring him round. As his slaps had no effect, he lowered the body into a more comfortable position and went on, ‘I don’t think we’ve much to fear at the moment, but the danger to him will be acute as long as he remains unconscious.’
‘Why should that be, since he is in the pentacle with us?’
‘Because his spirit is temporarily out of his body. That will give his enemies the best possible chance to capture it. If they were quick off the mark when we broke the magic circle by entering it, and the vase was upset, they may have done so already. If not, I think there is a good chance of the r
estored pentacle protecting him. But I don’t know enough about these things to be certain. All I do know is that in his present state he is ten times more vulnerable than we are; so it’s obvious that if there are any evil forces in this room it is him they will attempt to destroy.’
‘What … what will happen if they succeed?’
‘When he comes round it won’t be him. The personality inside him will no longer be Henry Beddows. His body will have been taken possession of by a demon.’
‘Just as you say occurs with Christina every night?’
‘No. Far worse than that. She still makes sense. He will be permanently demented. Off his chump for good.’
‘You are really convinced that evil spirits can drive people mad?’
‘I haven’t the least doubt about it. Ignore the Bible if you will, and scoff at all the records of such happenings in mediaeval times as based upon ignorant superstition. That gets you nowhere, unless you can account in some other way for certain types of loss of mental control that have afflicted great numbers of people from the earliest times, and still continue to do so. Most cases of lunacy are obviously due to physical causes; but any doctor will tell you that he has met with forms of madness which cannot be explained by any theory so far accepted by science; and most of the honest ones will admit that the symptoms in such cases tally with those described by the priests of all nations who have studied these things, as indications that the victim is “possessed of a devil”.’
John nodded. ‘I suppose in these days we are far too apt to discount the Bible; and, if one believes at all, one can hardly refuse to accept the account of Christ and the Gadarene swine. Still, all that apart, it seems to me that we have good grounds for regarding this chap as a bit round the bend already. No one who wasn’t would choose for a costume in which to sit up all night three suits of underclothes and pyjamas, instead of day things and an overcoat—or anyway a good warm dressing gown.’
To the Devil, a Daughter Page 28