Mary had gone into the business with her eyes open. Both Colonel Verney and Barney had not minced matters in telling her the sort of thing she must expect if she became one of a circle of Satanists, and she had frankly intimated to Verney that she would not regard giving herself to a stranger too high a price to pay for a good chance to bring Teddy’s murderers to justice. All the same she had hoped, by one means or another, to evade that issue; and luck had been with her. She had that evening secured concrete evidence against Ratnadatta so, even if she had not promised Barney to break with the Satanists, for her to seek to worm her way into their confidence had now become pointless.
Earlier, when she had believed that to become an initiate was the only road to doing so, she had hoped that at least she would be allowed some degree of choice in taking a lover from among the Brotherhood, so that she could select one who would be both physically acceptable and capable of protecting her from unwelcome attentions by the others. When Ratnadatta had told her that she must be prepared to render ‘service to the Temple’ at her initiation, she had more or less implied that she would not go through with it if the stranger who was to accept her offer of herself proved to be repugnant to her. He had replied that Satan so arranged matters that his votaries always derived pleasure from such ceremonies, and she had accepted that assurance – for what it was worth.
But what was it worth? Or his other assurance that nothing would be asked of her until her initiation? The Brotherhood of the Ram consisted entirely of men and women given over to evil; to expect any of them to keep a promise was, therefore, to build on sand. She had thought herself clever enough to get away with it; to make this last visit to the Temple so that she could find out where it was situated, and then have it raided that night. She had found out, but she knew now that she had taken the pitcher to the well once too often. It now seemed certain that, willing or unwilling, they meant to give her to one of their number within the next half-hour. And she was trapped.
Glancing sideways at Honorius she asked, ‘This man, Mr. X, what is he like?’
‘I have never met him,’ the Priestess replied. ‘But from what I have heard he must be past middle-age and rather a common person. Anyway, not of the type which we should ordinarily admit to the Brotherhood. He is being brought here only so that we can forward Our Lord Satan’s work.’
‘Am I… am I to be left alone with him?’
‘Of course.’
‘But if he sees me naked in bed, he may…’
‘I expect he will.’ A cold smile again twitched the lips of the tall, fair-haired Honorius. ‘He would hardly be human if such a sight did not stir his blood.’
‘Then I will prophesy, but I’ll not sit up in bed,’ Mary declared, firmly. ‘I’ll not tempt him by letting him see my body.’
‘You will do as you have been ordered, my child.’ The Priestess’s voice was icy, and her fine features more than ever severe. ‘Let us have no nonsense about this. Abaddon will be watching your every move. Should you fail him you will find his wrath no light matter. You are as yet not a Sister of the Ram, only a neophyte. He could, at a touch, make all your hair fall out; or might decide to chasten you by giving you for the night as a plaything to the Zombies.’
At these appalling threats, Mary paled and said, hastily: ‘I meant only that I’d not expected anything of this kind to happen this evening.’
‘Who said it would? You jump too quickly to conclusions. As I have told you, Abaddon will be watching and, should matters look like going further than he wishes, he will intervene.’
Only partially reassured, Mary asked, ‘How could he if I am to be left alone with Mr. X?’
Honorius gestured towards the wall on the far side of the bed. ‘Look more closely at those two flower paintings. You will see that their frames are not hung but fixed to the wall. Both are painted on two layers of canvas. There is nothing between them and the next room. A person in there can slide back the lower layers of canvas and that leaves several holes among the flowers and foliage of each picture. Through them anyone can see into this room, and from behind one of the pictures Abaddon will be observing how you conduct yourself with Mr. X. When matters have reached the point that he desires he will press a buzzer that sounds in the sitting-room. I shall be waiting there and, on hearing it, come straight into you.’
These complicated arrangements in connection with Mary’s test left her completely out of her depth. Having, while hidden herself, looked down through one of the balcony grills on to proceedings in the Temple, it did not particularly surprise her to learn that in this house of mysteries there should be spy-holes through some of the pictures; or that, having set her a test, Abaddon should wish to see for himself how she carried it out.
What puzzled her so much was the nature of the test. Why should they wish her to play the part of prophetess when Honorius, or some other Sister of the Ram with past experience, must be far better qualified for such a job? Why must she pretend to be ill and prophesy only in a whisper? Why must she throw the bedclothes back and expose herself to Mr. X unless, they wanted him to try to seduce or rape her?
Perhaps that was what they did want, then to see how she would react to such a situation. But, if so, why the pretended illness first; for, surely, nothing could be worse calculated to prepare Mr. X’s mind for an impulse to make love to her? And why these elaborate arrangements to enable Abaddon to intervene whenever he felt inclined? At what point in the proceedings would he do so?
What was their object in bringing there this elderly man who, by a strange snobbery, they apparently considered not of good enough class to be admitted to the Brotherhood? If her acceptance or rejection of this man on the grounds that he was no maiden’s dream was the test, it seemed an extremely stupid one. In her dark days in Dublin she had found that men of middle age were generally much more considerate than younger ones and that, provided a man was decently clean in his habits, once he took off his clothes there was little to indicate, apart from his voice, to what class he belonged.
Anxiously she wondered if they wished her tamely to submit to Mr. X’s probable advances, display wit and cunning in stalling him off or, if need be, fight him like a tigress. It seemed to her evident that her passing this strange test depended on her adopting the course they expected of her; but which course that was, she had no means of guessing nor, as it was a test, could she expect to receive any direct guidance. She could only keep herself alert for any hints which might yet come her way and deal with the situation as it developed in the light of them.
Her thoughts were brought back with an unpleasant jolt to the immediate present by Honorius saying, ‘Sit down at the dressing table and I will do your hair.’
For the past six weeks Mary had taken considerable pains to ensure that no one should suspect that her hair was dyed, but it grew quickly, and almost daily she had to take precautions against the new golden hair showing as it pushed up from its roots. Even standing close to her, no one would have guessed that she was not born a brunette, but another woman actually combing and parting her hair would almost certainly have become aware that she was actually a blonde, and blondes are not given to dyeing their hair dark brown without some very good reason.
Fearing now that such a discovery would lead to her being asked some very awkward questions, Mary said quickly, ‘Please don’t bother. I can quite well do it myself.’
For a moment her heart was in her mouth, as she thought it quite possible that Honorius might tell her that the hair of a priestess had to be dressed in some special manner; but to her relief the tall woman, so deceptively clad in nun’s garments, replied: ‘Very well, then. But part it in the centre as I do mine, then, as there will be no coif to hide it, we can arrange for it to fall to the best advantage framing your face.’
When Mary had brushed and combed her hair, and re-made-up her face, the Priestess dabbed a scent with a strong musk basis behind her ears, where her neck merged into her shoulders, and on her breasts, then told her to get into bed.
As she slid down between the cool lawn sheets, she thought philosophically, ‘Since I’ve made my bed, and have got to lie on it, I could easily have found a worse one. I must try to think of myself as a soldier going into battle. Even if Abaddon does not intervene, it will all be over in an hour and I’ll be free of these devilish people for good. And what a kick I’m going to get about midnight as I watch the whole lot of them being bundled into police vans.’
Honorius went for a moment into the sitting-room, then returned carrying a large full glass, which she gave to Mary telling her to drink it up. It was the same rich herb-scented wine that she had drunk while with Ratnadatta on the terrace. The two glasses of it she had had then had quieted her nerves and conditioned her to accept with a certain degree of resignation the fact that she had bitten off more than she had bargained for, and must now go through with it. In two long draughts she drank this third ration of the heady potion and, lying her head back on the pale blue satin pillow, began to view Mr. X’s approaching visit as no longer anything to be greatly concerned about, but as a matter which might prove most intriguing.
Abaddon now came quietly into the room. Having looked about him he smiled his appreciation at Honorius and told her to wait in the sitting-room until Mr. X arrived. Then he began to catechise Mary about the prophecy she was to make. Again and again he made her repeat what she was to say until she was word perfect and had got her voice down to the low pitch that he desired. Satisfied about that he then made her rehearse the last phase of the act, in which she was to throw back the bedclothes, sit up and put her right hand at the back of Mr. X’s neck.
After she had done it three times and again lay back, he stopped her from pulling the sheets up to her chin, gently touched her breasts and murmured, ‘You are a beautiful girl; very beautiful.’
Mary made no reply, but lay there looking up at him.
His long slim fingers moved from her breast up to her cheek. For a moment he stroked it softly. The finger-tips slid down, caressed her chin, then she felt them on her neck. Bending above her he brought his other hand into play, so that the fingers of both stroked her from the ears down to the shoulders, then his two hands became still. They closed round her throat.
Staring up at him she saw his pale blue eyes. They were no longer consciously looking down at her, but faintly glazed.
With sudden awful horror she realised the truth. This High Priest of Evil, who had never shown her anything other than courtesy and kindness, who looked so benign and benevolent, was, in fact, a strangler. It must have been to satiate his lust in safety when the fits came upon him, as a victim of this most terrible of all perversions, that he had become a Satanist.
Her mouth opened to scream. Abaddon’s thumbs jabbed downwards, cutting short her cry. His lips curved into a terrible smile and a low maniac chuckle issued from them. His eyes were now quite blank. Throwing up her arms she seized his wrists and strove to break his hold. Violently, she threw herself from side to side, but those slim fingers of his seemed to be made of steel. Her eyes were starting from her head, her lungs seemed about to burst.
Into her wildly agitated brain there came the terrible thought that this must be the end of the road that Ratnadatta had all the time destined for her. He was Abaddon’s creature and must be employed by him to lure girls to the Temple so that in this beautiful bed the evil High Priest could strangle them.
Suddenly, through the buzzing in her ears, she heard the voice of Honorius, sharp, imperative, ‘Master! Enough! She is needed for Our Lord Satan’s work. Later, if you must, but not tonight.’
Ignoring her cry Abaddon, smiling a twisted smile, his now seemingly sightless eyes fixed on Mary’s, tightened his grip on her throat. But the High Priestess had evidently had previous experience of his murderous fits, and knew how to deal with them. Her classic features set, like those of an outraged Athené, and her white nun’s garments swirling about her, she struck Abaddon with the flat of her hand again and again across the face.
He took his hands from Mary’s neck, shook himself, blinked and, after a moment, his eyes regained their normally benevolent expression. Looking down at her again he muttered:
‘You … you must forgive me. Occasionally I am subject to these little compulsions to … to, er, indulge myself, and at the same time send some young woman more swiftly on the way to a new incarnation. But now that I am older I rarely feel so … so strongly about the matter as to forget myself with a friend. That I did so in your case you must please regard as a very special tribute to your beauty.’
Honorius having come running in at Mary’s half-strangled cry, the pressure on her throat had lasted no more than a minute; but she was still shaking from fright and panting slightly. To Abaddon’s courteous apology and horrifying admission, there seemed no adequate reply. She could only pray that never again would she be left alone with him; meanwhile the Priestess wiped away the perspiration that had started out on her forehead and asked her if she would like something to drink to steady her nerves.
She shook her head, and murmured, ‘No; I’ll be all right in a few minutes.’
Abaddon smiled. ‘You are a brave girl as well as a beautiful one. Many would have given way to hysterics and I would have had myself to blame for having rendered you incapable of performing the task that has been set you. Since you are still prepared to carry it out I will reward you later with a special favour.’
Both of them then left her, and went back into the sitting-room. Her relief at knowing that she was not to die there between the soft lawn sheets was only momentary. Fresh fears beset her that, after Mr. X’s visit Abaddon might return and give free reign to his murderous perversion. Yet escape seemed impossible.
Suddenly the thought of the crucifix came into her mind. It was still in her hand-bag and that she had put into the wardrobe with her other things. If she held it up in front of her they might be afraid to attack her. But she could not force her way past them and out into the street still naked. She would first have to dress, and they had left the door of the sitting-room ajar so, if she got out of bed, it was certain that they would hear her. Before she could open the wardrobe and get the crucifix from her bag, they would be upon her. Again she recalled the High Priestess’s threats should she prove disobedient. Abaddon might cause all her hair to fall out or, infinitely worse, give her to the Zombies.
She dared not risk that. Perhaps, after all, if she did what was required of her with Mr. X, they would let her go, counting on her apparent willingness to return another night for her initiation. On two previous occasions Ratnadatta had kept his word; why should he not again? If she could only keep her head there was still a chance that she might be out of this gateway to hell soon after nine o’clock and free to bring about its complete destruction.
The frantic twistings of her mind, first this way then that, were brought to an abrupt cessation by the sound of voices in the next room. Although she strained her ears, she could not catch what they were saying. Quickly she pulled the sheets up to her chin and stretched her arms below them down along her sides. She had hardly done so, when the door opened. Then she shut her eyes as she had been directed.
Abaddon’s melodious tones came to her as he addressed Mr. X. ‘I cannot stress too strongly, Sir, that this is no pretended magical hocus-pocus, but a matter of advanced science. Or, it would be more correct to say, a revival of the application of scientific laws known to the ancients. They discovered that young women, while still pure, could be trained to prophesy correctly. But the medical profession still refuses to accept that as a fact; so we are under the necessity of keeping secret our valuable work in this clinic.’
‘Yes, I quite understand,’ a deep, slightly rough, voice replied. ‘It’s good of you to let me come here. I must say I congratulate you on your, er … prophetess. She’s quite a Beauty Queen, isn’t she?’
‘We have found,’ Abaddon returned, smoothly, ‘that a definite link exists between beauty coupled with purity and the higher intelligences that exist outside the earthly plane. It is on that account that so few young women can be found who are suitable subjects for training. For the moment this girl is the only one here fully qualified, and it is most regrettable that she should have been taken ill yesterday. But, as Mr. Biernbaum told us that the matter upon which you desired guidance was both urgent and important, I agreed that you should be allowed to consult her.’
‘She looks as if she is asleep,’ came the other voice. ‘Seems a shame to disturb her. Wouldn’t it be best to wait until she wakes up?’
‘No; she is in a semi-trance, so her state could hardly be better for your purpose. All you need do is to place the finger-tips of your left hand on her forehead and concentrate to the utmost on conveying your thoughts to her.’
Abaddon’s voice came more faintly as, while moving away, he added: ‘I will leave you now. When you have done, I shall be waiting for you in the next room.’
Mary just caught the sound of his receding footsteps on the soft carpet, then she felt Mr. X’s finger-tips on her forehead and heard him say, ‘I’m sorry you’ve been ill, Miss; but they say you’re well enough to tell me what my prospects are, and the sort of trouble I ought to look out for. This thing means a lot to me, and I’d be very grateful if you could.’
In accordance with her instructions, Mary silently counted two hundred then she fluttered her eyes open and looked up at Mr. X. He was a well-made, broad shouldered man, and she judged him to be about fifty-five. His hair was short, grey and wiry, his jowls were heavy and his reddish complexion suggested that he was a fairly heavy drinker; but his mouth was good and firm, and his brown eyes looked down into hers with compelling directness.
Keeping her voice very low, she said: ‘All will be well, if you act with caution.’
That’s a good start,’ he said, a smile spreading over his face. ‘But I’d like a few practical details.’
She counted fifty, then spoke again. ‘Take no step of importance on Tuesdays. For the next…’
‘What’s that?’ He leaned forward over her. ‘Speak a bit louder if you can, please. I can hardly hear you.’
Without raising her voice, she repeated the warning about Tuesdays, and went on: ‘For the next twelve days eat no meat, drink no alcohol and know no woman, so that greater power to influence others may flow into you.’
‘Twelve days,’ he muttered. ‘Yes, you’ve hit it. If I get through them I’ll be all right. But what’s this special danger I’ve to guard against that Emily Purbess couldn’t quite make out?’
Mary counted another hundred, as she had been told, then replied in a whisper. ‘Beware of the man with the thick-rimmed glasses. Do not trust him. In secret he is working against you.’
‘What; Sir Hamish?’ Mr. X burst out. ‘You can’t mean him! He’s spent thousands pushing the boat in the right direction.’
‘I see clearly the man who menaces your success,’ Mary went on. ‘He has thick, dark hair, and dresses untidily. He is still under thirty but has a forceful, abrupt manner.’
‘By God, it is Sir Hamish!’
‘Be warned by me. I am the vehicle of power beyond your understanding.’
‘Yes; yes.’ Mr. X appeared greatly agitated, ‘I don’t get it: but I’ll watch out.’
His face was still within a foot of Mary’s. Suddenly she threw the bedclothes from her, sat up, smiled at him, quickly put out her right hand, curling it round his neck, and said in a much stronger voice, ‘In you the Lion finds a champion against the Bear. Heed my warning and a great future will be yours. Go now, and good fortune be with you.’
For a moment his eyes showed amazement at her unexpected display of vigour. Then they dropped from her face to her body. He drew a deep breath, jerked his head away, stood upright and said, a trifle thickly:
‘Get back under the bedclothes.’
She had carried out Abaddon’s instructions to the letter and Mr. X’s reaction to her prophesy had been just as expected. But how he would react when she exposed herself to him was the question that had been agitating her on and off for the past hour. The display of control with which he coupled his admonition brought her instant relief. Gladly she obeyed him, flopping back and grasping quickly with both hands at the sheets. As she pulled them up to her chin, he asked her in a puzzled voice:
‘Why haven’t you got a night-dress on? If I hadn’t been told that this was a sort of scientific clinic, and you a kind of vestal virgin, I’d think I’d got into a slap-up brothel.’
She made no reply and, as though exhausted by the effort of prophesying, closed her eyes again. After a moment, he went on: ‘I suppose when you prophesy you’re not properly conscious of your surroundings, and sat up on a sudden impulse?’
As she continued to ignore him, he shrugged and said: ‘Well, it’s not for me to complain, as you were good enough to see me while ill in bed. Your prophesy was a queer one, but I’ll certainly heed the warning and keep away from the man you described to me.’
He was still speaking when she heard footsteps, then Abaddon’s voice. ‘I trust, Sir, that you are satisfied?’
‘Yes,’ Mr. X replied. ‘She was aware of the date that is important to me, and has told me the quarter from which I can expect trouble. I must say it surprised me, but forewarned is forearmed.’
The voices faded as the two men left the room. Mary opened her eyes and lay still for a few minutes, then Honorius came in to her. The Priestess now had her coif drawn forward hiding her pale gold hair. Evidently she had adjusted it for Mr. X’s visit, to give the impression that she was nursing Mary, as from her flowing white robes anyone would have taken her for a nun. Readjusting the coif on the back of her head, she said:
‘Abaddon tells me that you played your part excellently. He is very pleased with you.’
With a pale smile, Mary sat up. ‘I’m glad about that. I can dress now, then, and get ready to go home.’
‘No, not yet.’ Honorius checked her with a gesture as she was about to get out of bed. ‘Abaddon is seeing our visitor downstairs; but he will be back in a moment and wants to talk to you again.’
Fear leapt into Mary’s blue eyes, but the Priestess saw it and quickly sought to dispel her terror by saying: ‘There is no need to be alarmed, my dear. He is not often subject to such fits, and you may be certain that he will not be seized by another tonight.’
At that moment Abaddon appeared in the doorway. Quickly Mary lay back and covered herself again up to the chin. Holding the door open for Honorius, he said quietly, ‘You may leave us now,’ and, when she had walked past him, he closed it behind her.
Her statement had done little to reassure Mary. With his bald head, smiling eyes, smooth cheeks, and dressed in his neat dark grey suit, the High Priest still looked like a benevolent Bishop yet, less than half an hour before, he had calmly admitted to her that he was a strangler. And he was the Master in this den of murderers. His word was law there and Honorius, like the rest of them, was sworn to obey him. He might have told her to still his intended victim’s fears and keep her in bed till his return, so that she would be less able to defend herself. Now that she had served her purpose, even if she screamed Honorius might not come to her rescue again, but leave her at the mercy of this elderly maniac.
Mary’s heart was beating like a sledge hammer. Perspiration again broke out on her forehead. Her throat had suddenly gone dry and her tongue felt like thick leather in her mouth. As Abaddon moved away from the door, her eyes fixed themselves on his beautiful hands. In another few moments those strong, slender fingers might be choking the life out of her body. Half sitting up, she thrust out an arm as if to fend him off, and gasped:
‘Stay where you are! Stay where you are! Don’t … don’t come any nearer!’
His smile became sad, and he said: ‘My child, I understand how you must be feeling. Naturally you are afraid that I may give way to another of my little lapses; but you have no need to be.’
As he continued to approach the bed, she did not believe him. Cowering back among the pillows, she repeated hoarsely: ‘Don’t come any nearer! I’ll claw your eyes out if you touch me!’
He halted then and shook his head. ‘Calm yourself, I beg. My having so unfortunately, er … forgotten myself, must have been a great shock to you. After having your nerve so badly shaken it does you all the more credit that you should have passed your test with flying colours. I come only to tell you of the special favour I intend to grant you as a reward for going through with the task set you in spite of what had gone before.’
She continued to regard him with nervous doubt, but his eyes showed no sign of abnormality. With an effort, she stopped the trembling of her hands, and asked in a low voice, ‘What is it?’
‘That’s better,’ he nodded. ‘Lie back, my child, and relax. I give you my word that I will not lay a finger on you.’
Uneasily, she wriggled down a little, and again covered herself up to the shoulders, as he asked, ‘Have you yet decided on your Satanic name? Is it to be Circe, or some other?’
She was about to reply that to her it was a matter of complete indifference, but remembered in time that to him she was a neophyte who, having successfully passed her test, should now be looking forward eagerly to her initiation as a Sister of the Ram. His question suggested that the favour he meant to do her was in connection with it – perhaps the fixing of an early date – and that he was about to tell her of certain things she must do to prepare herself for the ceremony. She was still in their power and, if she was to get out of it in the next half-hour, she must continue to avoid arousing their suspicions by showing delight at her prospect of becoming one of them. Seeking now to please him, she said in a steadier voice:
‘I like the name, but you are the Master here. If there is one you prefer for me I will willingly take it.’
He beamed at her. ‘I like it too; so Circe let it be. Now, tell me: what do you know of our Satanic festivals?’
‘Mr. Ratnadatta told me that your weekly meetings on Saturdays are called Esbats, and that four times a year you hold a Sabat – a great feast at which you sacrifice a ram.’
‘That is so; and it is through the blood of the ram that we receive our first degree of power. The central act in an initiation ceremony is the baptism of the neophyte with it. Only so can one become a member of the Brotherhood.’
‘I see,’ she said, pretending keen interest. ‘And as there are only four Sabats a year, that is why a neophyte sometimes has to wait quite a long time before receiving initiation. Mr. Ratnadatta warned me that I should have to be patient.’
‘Yes, usually we arrange matters so that three weeks or a month elapse between each stage. You were fortunate that an occasion happened to arise for us to give you your test after only a fortnight.’
Mary was now feeling enough at ease with him again to play her part convincingly. With just a suggestion of peevishness, she murmured, ‘And now I suppose it will be the other way. I’ll have to wait weeks and weeks before I can enjoy the power that intiation will give me.’
‘No, my child.’ His smile was seraphic. ‘As resident Master of this Lodge, I have authority to ignore normal procedure when I wish, and I intend to treat your case as an exception. That is the way in which I propose to make amends for giving you such a fright.’
‘Do you mean that there is a Sabat quite soon, and that you’ll let me come to it? If so, that’s very kind.’
He looked at her in surprise. ‘Do you not know what today is?’
Puzzled, she thought a moment, then replied, ‘Yes, it’s the 30th April.’
‘And Walpurgis Night,’ he added quickly, ‘the greatest Satanic feast in the whole year.’
Starting up, she stared at him. ‘You don’t mean…’
‘I mean that, normally, your initiation would not take place until the end of July. But I am granting you a dispensation which will spare you that long wait and enable you to be received as an intiate tonight.’
‘Tonight!’ she gasped, her face a picture of dismay.
‘Yes. You will be one of five who are to be initiated; two other women and two men. But what has come over you?’ he frowned. ‘Instead of being delighted, you appear distressed.’
She knew herself to be walking a razor’s edge. Desperately she strove to compose her features. Then she faltered: ‘It’s only … only that I’ve had no chance to prepare myself for it. And I’m tired. Tired out by what I’ve been through this evening already.’
‘You feel so now, perhaps. But it will pass. You have the best part of an hour in which to rest. By then, and after another glass of our Delphic wine, you will feel quite restored and be eager to take your place among us.’
‘No! No!’ she cried, panic getting the better of her. ‘I couldn’t face it tonight. Even if I have to wait three months, I’d rather. Let me go home! Let me go home!’
‘Now you are being foolish,’ he admonished her. ‘Of course you are tired and a little overwrought. But tomorrow you would bitterly regret having allowed a temporary weakness to deprive you of this chance to achieve your desires without further delay.’
‘I’ve not the strength to go through with this tonight. I really haven’t. I swear I haven’t. I’ll bungle everything and disgrace you.’
‘I am confident that you will not. You took your oaths and made your profession of faith when you were accepted as a neophyte. No further demands of that kind will be made upon you. The ceremony consists only of a little blood being drawn from your arm so that you may sign a pact in it with our Lord Satan, then your baptism with the blood of the sacrificed ram and the tying of the black garter below your knee.’
‘But …’ she stammered, ‘… but Ratnadatta told me … he said I’d have to serve the Temple.’
‘Oh, that!’ Abaddon shrugged. ‘Yes, you will do so later. But you are not a virgin, so you will both give and receive pleasure by the act. After we have feasted and the dancing begins, you will be filled with desire and eager to make love.’
‘Not tonight! Not tonight!’ she pleaded. ‘I don’t feel like feasting and dancing. I’m too tired, I tell you, I want to go home! Please let me go home!’
Suddenly his voice became sharp. ‘You silly child! Pull yourself together! Show the same spirit you displayed earlier this evening. I’ll let you rob yourself of the reward I intended for you. I shall leave you now to give orders for your reception with the other four who are to become initiates. As you are the protegé of Sásín– or Ratnadatta, to use his ordinary name – he will come for you when we assemble in the Temple and bring you down to us.’
Before she could plead with him further, he turned on his heel, walked quickly from the room and peevishly slammed the door behind him.
So far Mary had restrained her tears, but now she gave way to them. Her terror of Abaddon had played havoc with her nerves and sapped away her reserves of courage. During these last few minutes, as soon as she had got over her fear that he might again attempt to strangle her, she had once more had high hopes that she would be allowed to dress and leave this devil-ridden mansion. To her utter consternation, they had been shattered. With what seemed the most cruel injustice, the very fact that he had attacked her was now the reason for her being ordered to remain there and face yet another ordeal.
That it would prove one for her was beyond doubt. His glib assurance that the ceremony required no effort might be true; but what of afterwards? He, of course, naturally assumed that, as a voluntary disciple of the Devil, she would willingly perform her ‘service to the Temple’, and afterwards thoroughly enjoy participating in the wild revels of his Satanic congregation. With tears oozing from the corners of her eyes, she shuddered at the thought and cursed herself anew for her temerity in having let Ratnadatta bring her again to the Temple.
For some five minutes she gave way to despair, then her sobbing eased and she began again to contemplate an attempt to escape. Abaddon had said that she had nearly an hour before her in which she could rest, so presumably she would be left alone during that time. She should, anyway, be able to get dressed without interference. But what then?
A long corridor, two flights of stairs and the hall lay between her and the front door. Could she possibly hope to reach it without being intercepted? And down in the hall there were the two Negro footmen. It seemed unlikely that they would have been ordered to keep a look-out for her and stop her if she tried to leave the house; and, as they were semi-Zombies, they might not have the wit to do so on their own initiative.
As against that, the hour of the meeting was approaching and, since tonight was one of the great Satanic festivals, it was certain to be a bumper gathering. Between now and ten o’clock at least thirty people, and perhaps even double that number would be arriving. They would be coming in nearly every minute, so she was certain to run into some of them, and there seemed a big risk that, thinking it strange that anyone should be going out at that hour, they would question her. If so, would she be able to satisfy them without their referring the matter to Abaddon?
From that thought another arose. The numbers arriving would be greater after than before half past nine, so the sooner she made the attempt, the better chance she would have of avoiding them and getting away. Again she considered the risks involved, recalling Honorius’s terrifying threats of what Abaddon might do to her if she had refused to obey his order to expose herself to Mr. X. But, surely, this was quite a different matter? No work for Satan depended on her compliance. She would only be declining a favour he intended to do her. She had already told him in no uncertain terms that she did not feel up to facing initiation that night. If she was caught and stopped she could plead that her nerve had given way and impelled her to flight. As he must consider himself to blame that she should be reduced to such a state, he could hardly decree some awful punishment for her. He might compel her to stay; but he might even relent and let her go.
For another few moments she lay there, a prey to alternate hopes and fears. But time was ticking by and she became increasingly aware that it was a case of now or never. Suddenly resolving to challenge fate, she threw back the bedclothes, got out of bed and walked over to the wardrobe.
As she approached it she caught sight of herself in the long mirror. When she had returned from her walk over Wimbledon Common and encountered Ratnadatta in the hall, she had been wearing the elaborate make-up which she had always used since turning herself into Margot Mauriac. Her recent tears had played havoc with it, and the mascara eye-shadow now ran in streaks down her cheeks. Realising that if she met anyone in the corridor or on the stairs it was important that she should appear calm and normal, she turned away from the wardrobe and went into the bathroom. There she quickly bathed her eyes and removed the ravages to her face. It was as well that she had done so before starting to dress, otherwise she would have been caught red-handed getting into her clothes; for, as she stepped back into the bedroom, its other door opened, and Honorius came in.
Over her arm she had a star-spangled mantle of transparent veiling; in one hand she carried a pair of silver sandals and a mask and, in the other, a wine-glass half full of yellow liquid. Thankful for her narrow escape, Mary slipped back into bed, while the Priestess draped the mantle across the back of a chair, set down the mask and sandals and came over to her. Holding out the glass to her, she said:
‘Abaddon is very distressed about your being so upset. You played your part with Mr. X so well that we quite thought you had recovered from the shock you received before he arrived. But, of course, the effect of shock often does not show till later. Anyway, Abaddon is most anxious that you should thoroughly enjoy our great feast tonight, so he has sent you up this cordial.’
‘What is it?’ Mary asked, eyeing the glass with suspicion.
‘It is one of our secret preparations, and has wonderful properties. Half-an-hour or so after you have taken it, you will feel marvellously refreshed, right on top of the world, and ready for anything.’
Between a quarter past seven and eight o’clock, Mary had had two glasses of the Delphic wine while with Ratnadatta out on the terrace, and another soon after she got into bed. They had warmed her up and done much to counter her anxieties, giving her at intervals an almost carefree feeling. But Abaddon’s attack on her had dissipated their effect, destroying in her entirely the excited expectation which had resigned her mind to accepting the possibility that Mr. X might be tempted to try conclusions with her. Now, she felt sure that the golden liquid contained another and much stronger aphrodisiac, and that was the last thing she wanted at the moment. Shaking her head, she said:
‘No thank you. I’d rather not. I’ve just bathed my face and I feel better already. I shall be quite all right by ten o’clock.’
‘Perhaps; but this will make you feel better still. Come, drink it up.’
‘No, really,’ she protested, ‘I don’t need it.’
‘You must.’ Honorius’s classical features became stern. ‘Abaddon says that while looking at you he discerned a sudden aversion in you to performing service to the Temple tonight. It is understandable that shock should temporarily have robbed you of normal sexual desire, but it is imperative that you should play your part with willingness and vigour. To fail to do so on the night of your initiation would be a flagrant insult to Our Lord Satan.
‘I … I shall be all right when the time comes. I promise you I will.’
‘You may think that now; but this shock you have had has taken a lot out of you. It is essential that you should fortify yourself, or you will be exhausted long before morning.’
‘If I do feel tired, surely I can sit and watch instead of dancing all night.’
A cold smile twitched Honorius’s lips. ‘My dear, surely you realise how beautiful you are. One of the other women who are to be initiated is middle-aged, and the other, although quite a pretty girl, is not in the same class as yourself. Half the men in the place will be wanting to have their turn with you.’