Sir Pellinore looked a little startled, then his hearty laugh rang out. ‘Not proposing to turn me into a donkey or anything, are you?’
‘No,’ de Richleau smiled. ‘I rather doubt if my powers extend that far, but I might cause you to lose your memory for the best part of a week.’
‘The devil! That would be deuced inconvenient.’
‘Don’t worry; I have no intention of doing so. I’m happy to say that I have never allowed myself to be tempted into practising anything but White Magic.’
‘White Magic—White Magic,’ repeated Sir Pellinore suspiciously. ‘But that’s only conjuring-tricks, isn’t it?’
‘Not at all.’ The Duke’s voice was a trifle acid. ‘It only differs from Black Magic in that it is a ceremony performed without intent to bring harm to anyone or any personal gain to the practitioner. I propose to use such powers as I possess to bring it about that a certain wish which you have expressed tonight shall be granted. Let’s go into the other room, shall we?’
Distinctly mystified and vaguely uneasy at this unusual proposal for his after-dinner entertainment, Sir Pellinore passed with the Duke into that room in the Curzon Street flat which was so memorable for those who had been privileged to visit it; not so much on account of its size and decorations as for the unique collection of rare and beautiful objects which it contained—a Tibetan Buddha seated upon the Lotus, bronze figurines from Ancient Greece, delicately chased rapiers of Toledo steel and Moorish pistols inlaid with turquoise and gold, ikons from Holy Russia set with semi-precious stones, and curiously carved ivories from the East—each a memento of some strange adventure which de Richleau had undertaken as a soldier of fortune or traveller in little-known lands. The walls were lined shoulder-high with richly bound books and the spaces above them were decorated with priceless historical documents, old colour-prints and maps.
Having settled his guest in a comfortable chair before the glowing fire, the Duke went over to a great carved-ivory chest, which he unlocked with a long, spindle-like key. On the front of it being lowered one hundred and one drawers were disclosed—deep and shallow, large and small. From one of the larger drawers he took a battered old iron tray, twenty-one inches long and seven inches broad, which had certain curious markings engraved upon it, and this he placed on top of the chest; from another drawer he took an incense burner and some cones of incense which he inserted in the burner then lit with a white taper.
When the incense was well alight he left the chest and went over to a handsome table-desk, where he sat down and, picking up a pen, drew a sheet of notepaper towards him. Having covered both sides of the sheet with neat writing he folded it, placed it in an envelope and, turning, handed it to Sir Pellinore, as he said:
‘Slip that in your pocket. When the time is ripe I shall ask you to open it, and if my ceremony is successful it will prove to you that there has been no element of coincidence about this business.’
De Richleau next took from the ivory chest four little bronze bowls, each supported by three winged legs obviously fashioned after a portion of the male body. To the contents of one he applied the lighted taper, upon which the matter in it began to burn with a steady blue flame. Another of the bowls already had some dark substance in it, while the remaining two were empty. Taking one of them, he walked over to a tray of drinks that stood on a side-table and half-filled it from a bottle of Malvern water. As he replaced the bowl in a line with the three others he glanced across at the Baronet, who was watching him with faintly cynical disapproval, and remarked:
‘Here we have the four Elements, Air, Earth, Fire, and Water, all of which are necessary to the performance of any magical ceremony.’
The cones of incense were now giving off spirals of blue smoke which scented the air of the quiet room with a strong, musky perfume, and as the Duke selected three small pay-envelopes from a number of others, each marked with a name, that were arranged alphabetically in one of the drawers, he added:
‘This doubtless seems a lot of tomfoolery to you, yet there is a sound reason for everything in these little-understood but very ancient practices. For example, the incense will prevent our noses being offended by the—to some— unpleasant odour of the things which I am about to dissolve by fire.’
‘What are they?’ Sir Pellinore inquired.
The Duke opened one of the little envelopes, tapped its contents into the palm of his hand and held it out. ‘They are, as you see, the parings of human nails.’
‘Good God!’ Sir Pellinore turned away quickly. He was not at all happy about this business as his life-long disbelief in the occult had suddenly become tinged with a vague fear now that all against his wish he was being brought in direct contact with it. The fact that he had won a V.C. in the Boer War, and had performed many acts of bravery since, was not the least comfort to him. Bullets and bombs he understood; but not erudite gentlemen who proposed to bring about abnormal happenings by burning small portions of the human body.
De Richleau read his thoughts and smiled. Returning to the ivory chest, he took from it a silvery powder of which he made three little heaps on the old iron tray, and upon each heap he put a few pieces of the nail parings. He then made a sign which was neither that of the Cross nor the touching of the forehead that Mohammedans make when they mention the Prophet, lit one of the little heaps of powder and in a ringing voice, which startled Sir Pellinore, pronounced an incantation of eleven words from a long-dead language.
The powder flared up in a dazzling flame, the nail-parings were consumed in a little puff of acrid smoke and de Richleau repeated the sign which was neither that of the Cross nor the touching of the forehead that Mohammedans make when they mention the Prophet.
Twice more the Duke went through the same motions and the same words; then he put out the flame which was burning in one bowl, emptied the water from another, snuffed out the incense in the burner, and, putting all his impedimenta back into the ivory chest, relocked it with the spindle-like key.
‘There,’ he said, in the same inconsequent tone that he might have used had he just finished demonstrating a new type of carpet-sweeper. ‘It will be a little time before the logical results of the enchantment which I have effected will become apparent, so what about a drink? Brandy, Chartreuse, or a glass of wine—which do you prefer?’
‘Brandy-and-soda, thanks,’ replied Sir Pellinore, distinctly relieved that the antics of his friend were over.
As he brought the drink and sat down before the fire the Duke smiled genially. ‘I’m so sorry to have made you uncomfortable—a great failing in any host towards his guest—but you brought it on yourself, you know.’
‘Good Lord, yes! You have every possible right to prove your own statement if you can, and I’m delighted for you to do so; although I must confess that this business gave me a rather creepy feeling—sort of thing I haven’t experienced for years. D’you honestly believe, though, that the Fuehrer monkeys about with incense and bowls of this and that, and bits of human nail, as you have done tonight?’
‘I haven’t the least doubt that he does; everything that is known about him indicates it. Witness his love of high places, the fact that he shuts himself up in that secret room of his at Berchtesgaden, sometimes for as much as twelve hours at a stretch, when nobody is allowed to disturb him however urgent their business; his so-called fits, and, above all, his way of life: no women, no alcohol and a vegetarian diet.’
‘What on earth’s that got to do with it?’
‘To attain occult power it is generally essential to forgo all joys of the flesh, often even to the point of carrying out prolonged fasts, so as to purify the body. You will recall that all the holy men who performed miracles were famed for their asceticism, and it is just as necessary to deny one self every sort of self-indulgence if one wishes to practise the Black Art as for any other form of occultism.’
‘That doesn’t fit in with your own performance this evening. We enjoyed a darned good dinner and plenty of fine liquor before you set to work.’
‘True. But then, as I told you, I only proposed to perform quite a small magic. I couldn’t have attempted anything really difficult without having first got myself back into training.’
Sir Pellinore nodded. ‘All the same, I find it impossible to believe that a man in Hitler’s position would be able to give the time to a whole series of these—er—ceremonies day after day, week after week, to discover the route by which each of our convoys is sailing, when he must have such a mass of important things to attend to.’
‘I shouldn’t think so either. Doubtless there are many people round him to whom he could delegate such routine work, while reserving himself for special occasions on which he seeks power to bring about far greater Evils.’
‘God bless my soul! Are you suggesting that all the Nazis are tarred with the same brush?’
‘Not all of them, but a considerable number. I don’t suppose it has ever occurred to you to wonder why they chose a left-handed Swastika as their symbol?’
‘I’ve always thought that it was on account of their pro-Aryan policy. The Swastika is Aryan in origin, isn’t it?’
‘Yes. Long before the Cross was ever heard of the Swastika was the Aryan symbol for Light, and its history is so ancient that no man can trace it; but that was a right-handed Swastika, whereas the Nazi badge is left-handed and, being the direct opposite, was the symbol for Darkness.’
Sir Pellinore frowned. ‘All this is absolutely new to me, and I find it very difficult to accept your theory.’
De Richleau laughed. ‘If you had time to go into the whole matter you’d soon find that it’s much more than a theory. D’you know anything about astrology?’
‘Not a thing; though a feller did my horoscope once and I must confess he made a remarkably good job of it. That’s many years ago now, but practically everything he predicted about me has since come true.’
‘It always does if the astrologer really knows his job, is provided with accurate data and spends enough time on it. The sort of horoscope that people get for half a guinea is rarely much good, because astrology is a little-understood but very exact science and it takes many hours of intricate calculation to work out the influence which each celestial body will have upon a child at the hour of birth. Even hard work and a sound knowledge of the science are not alone sufficient, as the astrologer must have had years of practice in assessing the manner in which the influence of one heavenly body will increase or detract from the influence of all the others that are above the horizon at the natal hour. But the labourer is worthy of his hire, and to pay ten or twenty guineas to have the job done by a man who really understands his stuff is worth it a hundredfold. One can make a really good horoscope the key to one’s life by using the warnings it contains to remould tendencies and thus guard against many ills.’
‘Really?’ Sir Pellinore looked a little surprised. ‘I was under the impression that these astrologer gentry all believed that what the stars foretold must come to pass. That’s why I’ve never regarded my horoscope as anything but a curiosity. Nothing would induce me to believe that we’re not the masters of our own fate.’
‘We are,’ the Duke replied mildly; ‘but our paths are circumscribed. The Great Planners give to each child at its birth circumstances together with certain strengths and weaknesses of character which are exactly suited to it and are, in fact, the outcome of the sum of all its previous existence. On broad lines, the life of that child is laid out, because its parents and environment will automatically have a great influence upon its future and it is pre-ordained that from time to time during its life other persons will come into its orbit, exercising great influence for good or ill upon it. Temptations will be put in its path, but also chances for it to achieve advancement. These things are decreed by the Overseers in accordance with the vast plan into which everything fits perfectly; and that is why character, tendencies and periods of special stress or opportunity can be predicted from the stars prevailing at any birth. But free will remains, and that is why, although future events can be foreseen in a life with a great degree of probability, they cannot be foretold with absolute certainty; because the person concerned may suddenly evince some hidden weakness or great strength and thus depart from the apparent destiny.’
Then a horoscope is by no means final?’
‘Certainly not; yet it can be an invaluable guide to one’s own shortcomings and potentialities, and the fact that we frequently go off the predestined track in one direction or another does not necessarily mean that we leave it for good. Surely you’ve noticed how people often fail in some direction through their own folly yet achieve their aims a little later by some quite unexpected avenue; and again, how, through what appear to be entirely fortuitous circumstances, a man’s life is often completely changed so that his whole future is given an entirely different direction. That is not chance, because there is no such thing; it is merely that, having been faced with a certain test, and having reacted with unexpected strength or weakness to it, he is swung back, by powers over which he has no control, on to the path where other trials or opportunities have been laid out in advance for him.’
The anti-aircraft fire flared up again so that the glasses on the side-table jingled, then two bombs whined over the house and exploded somewhere behind it in the direction of Piccadilly. The whole place shuddered and the menacing hum of the enemy planes could be heard clearly overhead.
For a few moments they sat silent, then when the din had faded, Sir Pellinore said: ‘Damn that house-painter feller! There soon won’t be a window left in any of the clubs. But what were you going to say about him and astrology?’
‘Simply that his every major move so far—with one exception—has been made at a time when his stars were in the ascendant. His march into the Rhine, his Anschluss with Austria, the rape of Czechoslovakia and a score of smaller but nevertheless important acts in his career all took place upon dates when the stars were particularly propitious to him. I don’t ask you to accept my word for that—go to any reputable astrologer and he will substantiate what I say—but, to my mind, that is conclusive proof that Hitler either practises astrology himself or employs a first-class astrologer and definitely chooses the dates for each big move he makes in accordance with occult forces ruling at those times.’
‘September the 2nd, 1939. Evil persons can use occult forces for their own ends, but only within limits. The all-seeing powers of Light are ever watchful, and inevitably a time comes when they trap the Black occultist through his own acts. They trapped Hitler over Poland. I am sure he never thought for one moment that Great Britain would go to war on account of his marching into Danzig; therefore when he consulted the stars as to a propitious date for that adventure he was thinking only in terms of Poland. He chose a date upon which Poland’s stars were bad and his stars were good; but he forgot or neglected to take into account the stars of Great Britain and her Empire on that date and the day following. We all know what happened to Poland; but the same thing has not happened to Britain yet—and will never happen. In the map of the heavens for September the 3rd, 1939, you will find that Britain’s stars are more powerful than Hitler’s. He thought that he was only going to launch a short, devastating attack on Poland on the 2nd, whereas, actually, he precipitated a second World War; and that is where this servant of Darkness has at last been trapped by the powers of Light.’
‘Just supposing—supposing, mind—that you were right about this thing, how d’you think Hitler’s people would go to work in passing on information by occult means?’
‘Whoever secures the information about the sailings must either be capable of maintaining continuity of thought while awake and asleep or pass the information on to somebody else who can do that.’
‘What the deuce are you talking about?’
De Richleau smiled as he took his friend’s glass over to the side-table and refilled it. ‘To explain what I mean I shall have to take you a little further along the path of the Old Wisdom. Since you’re a Christian you already subscribe to the belief that when you die your spirit lives on and that what we call Death is really Life Eternal?’
‘Certainly.’
‘But there is much more to it than that. As I remarked some time ago, the basis of every great religion, without exception, is the belief in Reincarnation and that at intervals which vary considerably each one of us is born into the world again in a fresh body in order that we may gain further experience and a greater command over ourselves. Those periods are rather like short terms at school, since in them we are compelled to learn, whether we will or no, and we rarely manage to achieve happiness for any considerable length of time. The periods when we are free of a body, which are much longer, are the holidays in which we gain strength for new trials, enjoy the companionship of all the dear friends that we have made on our long journey through innumerable past lives and live in a far higher and more blissful state than is ever possible on Earth. That is the real Eternal Life; yet each time that we are born again in the flesh we do not entirely lose touch with that other spiritual plane where we live our true lives and know real happiness. Whenever we sleep our spirit leaves its body and is free to refortify itself for the trials of the morrow by visiting the astral sphere to meet and talk with others many of whose bodies are also sleeping on Earth.
‘Some people dream a lot, others very little—or so they say; but what they actually mean is that they are incapable of remembering their dreams when they wake. The fact is that we all dream—or, if you prefer, leave our bodies— from the very moment we fall asleep. A dream, therefore, is really no more than a confused memory of our activities while the body is sleeping. By writing down everything one can remember of one’s dreams, immediately upon waking, it is perfectly possible gradually to train oneself to recall what one’s spirit did when it was absent from the body. It needs considerable strength of will to rouse oneself at once and the process of establishing a really clear memory requires a very great patience; but you may take my word for it that it can be done. If you doubt me, I could easily produce at least half a dozen other people living in England at the present time who have trained themselves to a degree in which they can recall, without the least difficulty, their nightly journeyings. And, of course, the spirit needs no training to remember what it has done in the body during the daytime. That’s what I mean by continuity of thought when waking and sleeping.’
‘I seldom dream,’ announced Sir Pellinore, ‘and if ever I do it’s just an absurd, confused muddle.’
‘That is the case with most people, but the explanation is quite simple. When you’re out of your body, time, as we know it, ceases to exist, so in a single night you may journey great distances, meet many people and do an extraordinary variety of things. Therefore, when you awake, if you have any memory at all, it is only of the high spots in your night’s adventures.’
‘But they don’t make sense. One thing doesn’t even lead to another.’
‘Of course not. But tell me about your normal waking life. Starting from Monday morning, what have you done this week?’
‘Well, now, let me see. On Monday I had a meeting with Beaverbrook—very interesting. On Tuesday I lunched with the Admiral responsible for arranging our convoy routes—no, that was Wednesday—it was Tuesday I damn’d-near ricked my ankle—slid down the Duke of York’s Steps. That morning, too, I had a letter from my nephew—hadn’t heard from the young devil for months— he’s with the Coldstream, in the Middle East. Wednesday I lost an important paper, got in a hell of a stew; quite unnecessary, as I had it in the lining of my hat-band all the time, but it gave me a devilish bad half-hour. Yesterday I met you and …’
‘That’s quite enough to illustrate my point,’ interrupted the Duke. ‘If those three days had been compressed into a one-night dream you would probably have wakened up with a muddled impression that you were walking in an aircraft factory with Lord Beaverbrook when you suddenly fell and nearly ricked your ankle, to pick yourself up and find that he had disappeared and that you were out with the Admiral on the cold waters of the Atlantic where we are losing so much of our shipping; then that you had the awful impression that you had lost something of the greatest importance, although you couldn’t think what it was, and that you were hunting for it with your soldier-nephew in the sands of Libya, in an interval from chasing the Italians. That is what is called telescoping. None of these things would have had the least apparent connection any more than the events in real life which you gave to me; but it’s quite natural that memory either of real life or of dream activities leaps to the matters which have made great impressions upon the mind. Things of less importance very soon become submerged in the general stream of the sub conscious, and I’m willing to bet you a tenner that you could not now recall accurately what you ate at each meal during those three days, however hard you tried. It’s just the same with the memory of a dream, except that by training one can bring oneself to fill in gaps and follow the whole sequence.’
‘Yes; I get your line of argument. But how would this help a German spy to convey information to the enemy?’
‘Once one is able to remember one’s dreams clearly, the next step is to learn how to direct them, since that, too, can be done by practice. One can go to sleep having made up one’s mind that one wishes to meet a certain friend on the astral and be quite certain of doing so. Such a state is not easy of achievement, but it is possible to anybody who has sufficient determination to go through the dreary training without losing heart, and it is no matter of education or secret ritual but simply a case of having enough will-power to force oneself into swift wakefulness each morning and concentrating one’s entire strength of mind upon endeavouring to recall every possible detail about one’s dreams. Once that has been successfully accomplished, one has only to go to sleep thinking of the person whom one wishes to meet on the astral plane, then one wakes in the morning with the full consciousness of having done so. It is a tragic fact that countless couples who have been separated by the war do meet each other every night in their spirit bodies, but, through never having trained themselves, by the time they are fully awake the next morning barely one out of ten thousand is conscious of the meeting. However, you will readily appreciate that if lovers can meet on the astral while the bodies they inhabit in the daytime are sleeping thousand of miles apart, there is nothing to prevent enemy agents also doing so.’
‘God bless my soul!’ Sir Pellinore suddenly sat forward. ‘Are you suggesting that if a German agent in England had certain information he could go to sleep, report in a dream to some damn’d Gestapo feller who was asleep in Germany, and that if the Gestapo feller was a dream-rememberer he could wake up with the information in his head the following morning?’
‘Exactly,’ said the Duke quietly.
‘But, man alive, that’d be a terrible thing! It’s too frightful to contemplate. No, no; I don’t want to be rude or anything of that kind, and I’m quite sure you’re not deliberately trying to make a fool of me, but honestly, my dear feller, I just don’t believe it.’
De Richleau shrugged. ‘There are plenty of people in London who will support my contention; and if I am not greatly mistaken, here comes one of them.’
As he was speaking there had been a soft rap on the door and his manservant, Max, now appeared, to murmur: ‘Excellency, Mr. Simon Aron has called and wishes to know if you will receive him.’
‘Ask him to come in, Max,’ the Duke replied, and turned to Sir Pellinore with a smile. ‘This is one of my old friends of whom we were speaking earlier in the evening.’
Max had thrown the door open and Simon stood upon the threshold, smiling a little diffidently. He was a thin, slightly built man of middle height, with black hair, a rather receding chin, a great beak of a nose and dark, restless, intelligent eyes. As he came forward the Duke introduced him to Sir Pellinore and the two shook hands.
‘Delighted to meet you,’ boomed Sir Pellinore. ‘At one time or another I’ve heard quite a lot about you as one of the people who accompanied de Richleau on some of his famous exploits.’
Simon wriggled his bird-like head in a little nervous gesture and smiled.’ ‘Fraid I can’t claim much credit for that. The others did all the exciting stuff; I don’t—er—really care much about adventures.’ He glanced swiftly at the Duke, and went on: ‘I do hope I’m not interrupting. Just thought I’d look in—make certain that you hadn’t been bombed.’
‘Thank you, Simon. That was most kind of you, but I didn’t know that you were given to wandering about London at night while the blitzkrieg is in progress?’
‘Ner.’ Simon stooped his head towards his hand to cover a somewhat sheepish grin, as he uttered the curious negative that he sometimes used. ‘As a matter of fact, I’m not—much too careful of myself; but it occurred to me about half an hour ago that I hadn’t seen you for a week, so when I’d finished my rubber at bridge I jumped into a taxi and came along.’
‘Good! Help yourself to a drink.’ De Richleau motioned towards the side-table and, as Simon picked up the brandy decanter, went on: ‘We were talking about occult matters and debating whether it was possible for a German agent in Britain to transmit intelligence to a colleague in Germany by a conversation on the astral plane while both of them were sleeping. What do you think?’
Simon jerked his head in assent. ‘Um—I should say that it was perfectly possible.’
Sir Pellinore looked at him a little suspiciously. ‘I take it, sir, that you’re a believer in all this occult stuff?’
‘Um,’ Simon nodded again. ‘If it hadn’t been for the Duke I might have lost something more precious than my reason through monkeying with the occult some years ago.’
De Richleau smiled. ‘Naturally you’ll consider that Aron is prejudiced, but whatever beliefs he may hold about the occult, his record shows him to have an extraordinarily astute—in fact, I might say brilliant—brain, and I personally vouch for his integrity. You can speak in front of him with perfect confidence that nothing you say will go outside these four walls, and I think it would be an excellent idea if you put up to him the proposition that you put up to me just after dinner.’
‘Very well,’ Sir Pellinore agreed, and he gave Simon a brief outline of the grave position regarding Britain’s shipping losses.
When he had done, Simon proceeded to embroider the subject in a quick spate of words during which he quoted accurate figures and cases in which convoys had suffered severely.
‘Wait a moment, young feller,’ Sir Pellinore exclaimed. ‘How d’you know all this? It’s supposed to be highly secret.’
Simon grinned. ‘Of course. And I wouldn’t dream of mentioning figures to an outsider, but it’s partly my job to know these things. Got to, because they affect the markets and, er—the Government aren’t the only people who have an Intelligence Service, you know. It’s never occurred to me before, but the transmission of information by occult means is definitely possible. Shouldn’t be a bit surprised if that’s the explanation of the leakage. Anyhow, I think the Duke’s idea ought to be investigated.’
Sir Pellinore glanced at the Duke. ‘How would you set about such an investigation?’
‘I should need to be put in touch with all the people at the Admiralty who are in the secret as to the route each convoy is to take. Then I should go out at night to cover them when they leave their bodies in sleep, to see if I could find the person who is communicating with the enemy.’
‘Are you seriously suggesting that your spirit could shadow theirs on the—er—astral plane?’
‘That’s the idea. I see no other way in which one could attempt to solve such a mystery. It would be a long job, too, if there are many people in the secret.’
‘And damnably dangerous,’ added Simon.
‘Why?’ Sir Pellinore inquired.
‘Because whoever is giving the information away might find out what I was up to,’ replied the Duke, ‘and would then stick at nothing to stop me.’
‘How?’
‘When a spirit goes out from a body that is asleep, as long as life continues in the body the spirit is attached to it by a tenuously thin cord of silver light which is capable of stretching to any distance. The cord acts as a telephone wire, and that is how, if sudden danger threatens the body, it is able to recall the spirit to animate it. But if that silver cord is once severed the body dies—in fact, that is what has actually happened when people are said to have died in their sleep. If my intentions are discovered the Powers of Darkness will do their damn’dest to break the silver cord that links my spirit with my body, so that I can never get back to it and report the result of my investigations to you.’
The elderly Baronet had considerable difficulty in keeping open disbelief out of his voice as he grunted: ‘So even the spirits go in for murder, eh?’
‘Certainly. The eternal fight between Good and Evil rages just as fiercely on the astral plane as it does here; only the weapons used are much more terrible, and if one comes into conflict with one of the entities of the Outer Circle one’s soul may sustain grievous harm which is infinitely worse than the mere loss of a body.’
Sir Pellinore glanced at the clock and stood up. ‘Well,’ he said, with his genial bluffness, ‘it’s been a most interesting evening—thoroughly enjoyed myself—but I must be getting along.’
‘No, no,’ said the Duke. ‘I can see that you still think I’m talking nonsense, but in fairness to me you must await the outcome of my magical experiment.’
‘What have you been up to?’ Simon inquired with sudden interest, but the others ignored him, as Sir Pellinore replied:
‘Of course I will, if you wish, but honestly, my dear fellow, I don’t think anything you could do would really convince me. All this business about silver cords, spirits committing murder, and even one’s immortal soul not being safe in God’s keeping, is a bit too much for a man of my age to swallow.’
At that moment there was another knock on the door and Max stood there again. ‘Excellency, Mr. Rex Van Ryn and Mr. Richard Eaton are here and wish to know if you will receive them.’
‘Certainly,’ said the Duke. ‘Ask them to come in.’
Rex, tall, broad-shouldered, in the uniform of an R.A.F. flight-lieutenant but leaning heavily on a stick, was the first to enter, and Sir Pellinore greeted him with hearty congratulations on his D.F.C. Richard, much slighter in build, followed him and was duly introduced.
‘Well, well,’ laughed Sir Pellinore to his host, ‘it seems that you’re holding quite a reception tonight, and the four famous companions are now reunited.’
A broad smile lit Rex’s ugly attractive face as he said to the Duke: ‘Richard and I had just negotiated a spot of dinner together round the corner, at the Dorchester, when we had a hunch, almost simultaneously, that after we’d finished our magnum it’d be a great idea to drop along and take a brandy off you.’
De Richleau turned to Sir Pellinore. ‘The note that I gave you—would you produce it now?’
Sir Pellinore fished in his pocket, brought out the envelope, ripped it open and read what the Duke had written half an hour before. It ran as follows:
‘You will bear witness that since writing this note I have not left your presence, used the telephone, or communicated in any way with my servants. You expressed the wish, just after dinner, to meet my friends, Simon Aron, Rex Van Ryn, and Richard Eaton.
‘If they are not in London the ceremony that I propose to perform will not be successful, because they will not have time to reach here before you go home, but if, as I believe, they are, it is virtually certain that at least one of them will put in an appearance here before midnight.
‘If any or all of them turn up I shall see to it that they testify, without prompting, that they have not called upon me by arrangement but have done so purely owing to a sudden idea that they would like to see me which came into their minds. That idea is no matter of mere chance but because through a magical ceremony I have conveyed to them my will that they shall appear here.
‘If the ceremony is successful I trust that this will convince you that the Nazis may use magic for infinitely more nefarious purposes and that it is our duty to conduct an investigation in this matter with the least possible delay.’
Sir Pellinore lowered the note and glanced round the little circle. His blue eyes held a strange, puzzled look, as he exclaimed:
‘By God, I’d never have believed it! You win, Duke, I’ve got to admit that. Mind you, that’s not to say I’m prepared to swallow all the extraordinary things you’ve said this evening. Still, in a case like this we can’t afford to neglect any avenue. Our Atlantic Life-line is our one weak spot and it may be—yes, it may be that in those slender hands of yours lies the Victory or Defeat of Britain.’