The big Hispano left the last houses of Amesbury behind and took the long, curving road across the Plain to the west. De Richleau, driving now at a moderate pace, was at last able to satisfy Rex’s curiosity.
‘It is quite simple, my dear fellow. Immediately I learned from you that Madame D’Urfé was leaving Claridges for the Sabbat at four o’clock, I realised that in her we had a second line of inquiry. Having promised to meet you at Pangbourne, I couldn’t very well follow her myself, so I got in touch with an ex-superintendent of Scotland Yard named Clutterbuck, who runs a Private Inquiry Agency.’
‘But I thought you said we must handle this business on our own,’ Rex protested.
‘That is so, and Clutterbuck has no idea of the devilry that we are up against. I only called him in for the purpose of tracing cars and watching people, which is his normal business. After I had explained what I wanted to him he arranged for half a dozen of his assistants to be in readiness with motor-cycles. Then I took him round to Claridges in order to point the old woman out to him. As luck would have it, I spotted the Albino that we saw at the party last night come out at half past three and drive off in the Yellow Sports Sunbeam, so that gave us a third line, and Clutterbuck sent one of his men after him. The Countess left in the Green Daimler a good bit after four, and that’s why I was delayed in getting down to Pangbourne. Clutterbuck trailed her in his own car, and directly we knew that she was making for the west, sent the rest of his squad ahead in order to pick her up again if by chance he lost her. That is how the reports of the movements of the two cars came through to me.’
‘How about Mocata? He was at Claridges when Tanith ‘phoned the old woman, round about half past one!’
‘Unfortunately, he must have left by the time I came on the scene, but it doesn’t matter, because he is certain to be with the rest.’
Rex grinned. ‘It was a pretty neat piece of staff work.’
The few miles across the Plain were soon eaten up, and the Duke had scarcely finished giving Rex particulars of his campaign when they reached the lonely wind-swept cross-roads half a mile south of Chilbury. A car was drawn up at the side of the road and near it a group of half a dozen men with motor-cycles stood talking in low voices. As the Hispano was brought to a standstill, a tall, thin man left the group and came over to De Richleau.
‘The persons you are wanting are in the big house on the far side of the village, sir,’ he said. ‘You can’t miss it because the place is surrounded by trees, and they are the only ones hereabouts.’
‘Thank you,’ De Richleau nodded. ‘Have you any idea how many people have arrived for this party?’
‘I should think a hundred or so at a rough guess. There are quite fifty cars parked in the grounds at the back of the house, and some of them had two or three occupants. Will you require my assistance any further?’
‘Not now. I am very pleased with the way in which you have handled this little affair, and should I need your help later on, I will get in touch with you again.’
Rex nudged the Duke just as he was about to dismiss Clutterbuck. ‘If there’s a hundred of them, we won’t stand an earthly on our own. Why not keep these people? Eight or nine of us might be able to put up a pretty good show!’
‘Impossible,’ De Richleau replied briefly, while the detective eyed the two of them with guarded interest, wondering what business they were engaged upon but satisfied in his own mind that, since Rex had suggested retaining him, he had not lent himself to anything illegal. ‘If there’s nothing else I can do then, sir,’ he said, touching his hat, ‘My men and I will be getting back to London.’
‘Thank you,’ De Richleau acknowledged the salute. ‘Good night.’ As the detective turned away, he let out the clutch of the Hispano.
With the engine just ticking over, they slipped through the silent village. Most of the cottages were already in darkness. The only bright light came from the tap-room of the tiny village inn, while the dull glow from curtained windows in one or two of the upper rooms of the houses showed that those inhabitants of the little hamlet who were not already in bed would very shortly be there.
To the south of the road, on the far side of the village, they came upon a thick belt of ancient trees extending for nearly a quarter of a mile and, although no house was visible behind the high stone wall that shut them in, they knew from Clutterbuck’s description that this must be the secret rendezvous.
A chalky lane followed the curve of the wall where it left the main road and, having driven a hundred yards along it, they turned the car so that it might be in immediate readiness to take the road again, and parked it on a grassy slope that edged the lane.
As the Duke alighted, he pulled out a small suitcase. ‘These are the results of my morning’s research at the British Museum,’ he said, opening it up.
Rex leaned forward curiously to survey the strange assortment of things the case contained: a bunch of white flowers, a bundle of long grass, two large ivory crucifixes, several small phials, a bottle—apparently of water—and a number of other items; but he stepped quickly back as a strong, pungent, unpleasant odour struck his nostrils.
De Richleau gave a grim chuckle. ‘You don’t like the smell of the Asafœtida grass and the Garlic flowers, eh? But they are highly potent against evil my friend, and if we can only secure Simon they will prove a fine protection for him. Here, take this crucifix.’
‘What’ll I do with it?’ Rex asked, admiring for a moment the beautiful carving on the sacred symbol.
‘Hold it in your hand from the moment we go over this wall, and before your face if we come upon any of these devilish people.’
While De Richleau was speaking, he had taken a little plush box from the suitcase, and out of it a rosary from which dangled a small, gold cross. Reaching up, he hung it about Rex’s neck, explaining as he did so: ‘Should you drop the big one, or if it is knocked from your hand by some accident, this will serve as a reserve defence. In addition, I want you to set another above a horse-shoe in your aura.’
‘How d’you mean?’ Rex frowned, obviously puzzled.
‘Just imagine if you can that you are actually wearing a horse-shoe surmounted by a crucifix on your forehead. Think of it as glowing there in the darkness an inch or so above your eyes. That is an even better protection than any ordinary material symbol, but it is difficult to concentrate sufficiently to keep it there without long practice, so we must wear the sign as well.’ The Duke placed a similar rosary round his own neck and took two small phials from the open case. ‘Mercury and Salt,’ he added. ‘Place one in each of your breast pockets!’
Rex did as he was bid. ‘But why are we wearing crucifixes when you put a swastika on Simon before?’ he asked.
‘I was wrong. That is the symbol of Light in the East, where I learned what little I know of the Esoteric Doctrine. There, it would have proved an adequate barrier, but here, where Christian thoughts have been centred on the Cross for many centuries, the crucifix has far more potent vibrations.’
He took up the bottle and went on: ‘This is holy water from Lourdes, and with it I shall seal the nine openings of your body that no evil may enter it at any one of them. Then you must do the same for me.’
With swift gestures, the Duke made the sign of the cross in holy water upon Rex’s eyes, nostrils, lips, etc., and then Rex performed a similar service for him.
De Richleau picked up the other crucifix and shut the case. ‘Now we can start,’ he said. ‘I only wish that we had a fragment of the Host apiece. That is the most powerful defence of all, and with it we might walk unafraid into hell itself. But it can only be obtained by a layman after a special dispensation, and I had no time to plead my case for that today.’
The night was fine and clear, but only a faint starlight lit the surrounding country, and they felt rather than saw the rolling slopes of the Plain which hemmed in the village and the house, where they were set in a sheltered dip. The whole length of the high stone wall was fringed, as far as they could see, by the belt of trees, and through their thick, early-summer foliage no glimpse of light penetrated to show the exact position of the house.
Since no sound broke the stillness—although a hundred people were reported to be gathered there—they judged the place to be somewhere in the depths of the wood at a good distance from the wall; yet despite that, as they walked quickly side by side down the chalky lane, they spoke only in whispers lest they disturb the strange stillness that brooded over that night-darkened valley.
At length they found the thing that they were seeking, a place where the old wall had crumbled and broken at the top. A pile of masonry had fallen into the lane, making a natural step a couple of feet in height, and from it they found no difficulty in hoisting themselves up into the small breach from which it had tumbled.
As they slipped down the other side they paused for a moment, peering through the great tree-trunks, but here on the inside of the wall beneath the wide-spreading branches of century-old oaks and chestnuts they were in pitch darkness, and could see nothing ahead other than the vague outline of the trees.
‘In manus tuas, domine,’ murmured the Duke, crossing himself; then holding their crucifixes before them they moved forward stealthily, their feet crackling the dry twigs with a faint snapping as they advanced.
After a few moments the darkness lightened and they came out on the edge of a wide lawn. To their left, two hundred yards away, they saw the dim, shadowy bulk of a rambling old house, and through a shrubbery which separated them from it, faint chinks of light coming from the ground floor windows. Now, too, they could hear an indistinct murmur, which betrayed the presence of many people.
Keeping well within the shadow of the trees, they moved cautiously along until they had passed the shrubbery and could get a clear view of the low, old-fashioned mansion. Only the ground-floor windows showed lights and these were practically obscured by heavy curtains. The upper stories were dark and lifeless.
Still in silence, and instinctively agreeing upon their movements, the two friends advanced again and began to make a circle of the house. On the far side they found the cars parked just as Clutterbuck had described, upon a gravel sweep, and counted up to fifty-seven of them.
‘By Jove,’ Rex breathed. ‘This lot would rejoice an automobile salesman’s heart.’
The Duke nodded. Not more than half a dozen out of the whole collection were ordinary, moderately-priced machines. The rest bore out De Richleau’s statement that the practitioners of the Black Art in modern times were almost exclusively people of great wealth. A big silver Rolls stood nearest to them; beyond it a golden Bugatti. Then a supercharged Mercedes, another Rolls, an Isotta Fraschini whose bonnet alone looked as big as an Austin Seven, and so the line continued with Alfa Romeos, Daimlers, Hispanos and Bentleys, nearly every one distinctive of its kind. There must have been £100,000 worth of motor-cars parked in that small area.
As they paused there for a moment, a mutter of voices and a sudden burst of laughter came from a ground-floor window. Rex tip-toed softly forward across the gravel. De Richleau followed and, crouching down with their heads on a level with the low sill, they were able to see through a chink in the curtains into the room.
It was a long, low billiards-room with two tables, and the usual settees ranged along the walls. Both tables were covered with white cloths upon which were piles of plates, glasses, and an abundant supply of cold food. About the room, laughing, smoking and talking, were some thirty chauffeurs who, having delivered their employers at the rendezvous, were being provided with an excellent spread to keep them busy and out of the way.
The Duke touched Rex on the shoulder, and they tiptoed quietly back to the shelter of the bushes. Then, making a circle of the drive, they passed round the other side of the house, which was dark and deserted, until they came again to the lighted windows at the back which they had first seen.
The curtains of these had been more carefully drawn than those of the billiards-room where the chauffeurs were supping, and it was only after some difficulty that they found a place where they were able to observe a small portion of the room. From what little they could see, the place seemed to be a large reception-room, with parquet floor, painted walls and Italian furniture.
The head of a man, who was seated with his back to the window, added to their difficulty in seeing into the room but the glimpse they could get was sufficient to show that all the occupants of it were masked and their clothes hidden under black dominoes, giving them all a strangely funereal appearance.
As the man by the window turned his head De Richleau, who was occupying their vantage point at the time, observed that his hair was grey and curly and that he had lost the top portion of his left ear, which ended in a jagged piece of flesh. The Duke felt that there was something strangely familiar in that mutilated ear, but he could not for the life of him recall exactly where he had seen it. Not at Simon’s party, he was certain but, although he watched the man intently, no memory came to aid his recognition.
The others appeared to be about equal numbers of both sexes as far as the Duke could judge from the glimpses he got of them as they passed and repassed the narrow orbit of his line of vision. The masks and dominoes made it particularly difficult for him to pick out any of the Satanists whom he had seen at the previous party but, after a little, he noticed a man with a dark-skinned fleshy neck and thin black hair whom he felt certain was the Babu, and a little later a tall, lank, fair-haired figure who was undoubtedly the Albino.
After a time Rex took his place at their observation post. A short, fat man was standing now in the narrow line of sight. A black mask separated his pink, bald head from the powerful fleshy chin—it could only be Mocata. As he watched, another domino came up, the beaky nose, the bird-like head, the narrow, stooping shoulders of which must surely belong to Simon Aron.
‘He’s here,’ whispered Rex.
‘Who–Simon?’
‘Yes. But how we’re going to get at him in this crush is more than I can figure out.’
‘That has been worrying me a lot,’ De Richleau whispered back. ‘You see, I have had no time to plan any attempt at rescue. My whole day has been taken up with working at the Museum and then organising the discovery of this rendezvous. I had to leave the rest to chance, trusting that an opportunity might arise where we could find Simon on his own if they had locked him up, or at least with only a few people, when there would be some hope of our getting him away. All we can do for the moment is to bide our time. Are there any signs of them starting their infernal ritual?’
‘None that I can see. It’s only a conversation piece in progress at the moment.’
De Richleau glanced at his watch. ‘Just on eleven,’ he murmured, ‘and they won’t get going until midnight, so we have ample time before we need try anything desperate. Something may happen to give us a better chance before that.’
For another ten minutes they watched the strange assembly. There was no laughter but, even from outside the window, the watchers could sense a tenseness in the atmosphere and a strange suppressed excitement. De Richleau managed to identify the Eurasian, the Chinaman and old Madame D’Urfé with her parrot beak. Then it seemed to him that the room was gradually emptying. The man with the mutilated ear, whose head had obscured their view, stood up and moved away and the low purr of a motorcar engine came to them from the far side of the house.
‘It looks as if they’re leaving,’ muttered the Duke; ‘perhaps the Sabbat is not to be held here after all. In any case, this may be the chance we’re looking for. Come on.’
Stepping as lightly as possible to avoid the crunching of the gravel, they stole back to the shrubbery and round the house to the place where the cars were parked. As they arrived a big car full of people was already running down the drive. Another was in the process of being loaded up with a number of hampers and folding tables. Then that also set off with two men on the front seat.
Rex and De Richleau, crouching in the bushes, spent the best part of half an hour watching the departure of the assembly.
Every moment they hoped to see Simon. If they could only identify him among those dark shapes that moved between the cars they meant to dash in and attempt to carry him off. It would be a desperate business but there was no time left in which to make elaborate plans; under cover of darkness and the ensuing confusion there was just a chance that they might get away with it.
No chauffeurs were taken and a little less than half the number of cars utilised. Where the guests had presumably arrived in ones, twos, and threes, they now departed, crowded five and six apiece in the largest of the cars.
When only a dozen or so of the Satanists were left the Duke jogged Rex’s arm. ‘We’ve missed him, I’m afraid. We had better make for our own car now or we may lose track of them,’ and, filled with growing concern at the difficulties which stood between them and Simon’s rescue, they turned and set off at a quick pace through the trees to the broken place in the wall.
Scrambling over, they ran at a trot down the lane. Once in the car, De Richleau drove it back on to the main road and then pulled up as far as possible in the shadow of the overhanging trees. A big Delage came out of the park gates a hundred yards farther along the road and, turning east, sped away through the village.
‘Wonder if that’s the last.’ Rex said softly.
‘I hope not,’ De Richleau replied. ‘They have been going off at about two-minute intervals, so as not to crowd the road and make too much of a procession of it. If it is the last, they would be certain to see our lights and become suspicious. With any luck the people in the Delage will take us for the following car if we can slip in now, and the next to follow will believe our rear light to be that of the Delage.’ He released his brake, and the Hispano slid forward.
On the far side of the village they picked up the rear light of the Delage moving at an easy pace and followed to the cross-roads where they had met Clutterbuck an hour and a half earlier. Here the car turned north along a byroad, and they followed for a few miles upward on to the higher level of the desolate rolling grassland, unbroken by house or farmstead, and treeless except for, here and there, a coppice set upon a gently sloping hillside.
Rex was watching out of the back window and had assured himself that another car was following in their rear, for upon that open road motor headlights were easily visible for miles.
They passed through the village of Chitterne St Mary, then round the steep curve to the entrance of its twin parish, Chitterne All Saints. At the latter, the car which they were following switched into a track running steeply uphill to the north-east, then swiftly down again into a long valley bottom and up the other side on to a higher crest. They came to a cross-roads where four tracks met in another valley and turned east to run on for another mile, bumping and skidding on the little-used, pathlike way. After winding a little, the car ahead suddenly left the track altogether and ran on to the smooth short turf.
After following the Delage for a mile or more across the grass, De Richleau saw it pull up on the slope of the downs where the score or so of cars which had brought the Satanists to this rendezvous were parked in a ragged line. He swiftly dimmed his lights, and ran slowly forward, giving the occupants of the Delage time to leave their car before he pulled up the Hispano as far from it as he dared without arousing suspicion in the others. The car following, which seemed to be the last in the procession, passed quite close to them and halted ten yards ahead, also disgorging its passengers. Rex and the Duke waited for a moment, still seated in the darkness of the Hispano then, after a muttered conference, Rex got out to go forward and investigate.
He returned after about ten minutes to say that the Satanists had gone over the crest of the hill into the dip beyond, carrying their hampers and their gear with them.
‘We had better drive on then,’ said the Duke, ‘and park our car with theirs. It’s likely to be noticed if the moon gets up.’
‘There isn’t a moon,’ Rex told him. ‘We’re in the dark quarter. But it would be best to have it handy all the same.’
They drove on until they reached the other cars, all of whose lights had been put out. Then, getting out, set off at a stealthy trot in the direction the Satanists had taken.
Within a few moments, they arrived at the brow of the hill and saw that spread below them lay a natural amphitheatre. At the bottom, glistening faintly, lay a small tarn or lake, and De Richleau nodded understandingly.
‘This is the place where the devilry will actually be done without a doubt. No Sabbat can be held except in a place which is near open water.’ The two friends lay down in the grass to watch for Simon among the dark group of figures who were moving about the water’s edge.
Some were busy unpacking the hampers, and erecting the small folding-tables which they had brought. The light was just sufficient for Rex to see that they were spreading upon them a lavish supper. As he watched, he saw a group of about a dozen move over to the left towards a pile of ancient stones which, in the uncertain light, seemed to form a rugged, natural throne.
De Richleau’s eyes were also riveted upon the spot and, to his straining gaze, it seemed that there was a sudden stirring of movement in the shadows there. The whole body of masked black-clad figures left the lake and joined those near the stones, who seemed to be their leaders. After a moment the watchers could discern a tall, dark form materialising on the throne and, as they gazed with tense expectancy, a faint shimmer of pale violet light began to radiate from it.
Even at that distance, this solitary illumination of the dark hollow was sufficient for the two friends to realise that the thing which had appeared out of the darkness, seated upon those age-old rocks, was the same evil entity that De Richleau had once taken for Mocata’s black servant, and which had manifested itself to Rex with such ghastly clarity in Simon’s silent house. The Sabbat was about to commence.