Gregory stared at Erika in horror. For a moment he was at a loss for words, then he exclaimed, ‘It almost passes belief that a man could do such a thing.’
‘It’s true!’ she cried. ‘Every word I’ve said. I saw it with my own eyes.’ Then, bursting into tears, she threw herself down beside him.
Putting his arms about her shoulders, he strove to comfort her. ‘There, there, my sweet. To have witnessed such a scene must have upset you terribly. But at least we now know where we stand. Stefan was right. Malacou really is a disciple of the Devil.’
‘But incest!’ Erika sobbed. ‘The sight of them locked together naked on that altar almost made me sick. It was revolting—utterly horrible.’
‘Dearest, I can imagine how you must have felt; but I suppose Satanists stick at nothing. Probably the more evil the things they do, the more power they draw down to themselves from Satan. One can only pity Khurrem. She is completely dominated by him. And this explains the wretched state she’s in: her long silences and heavy drinking. I don’t suppose it is the first time this has happened. No doubt she’s still good at heart and loathes having to give herself to her father, but he compels her to.’
Still sobbing, Erika nodded. ‘I … I’m sure you’re right. People whose consciences are troubling them often try … try to drown their thoughts in drink. But how awful for her, darling; how awful for her to … to have to let him make use of her body. Somehow we must help her to escape from him.’
For a moment Gregory remained silent, then he said, ‘Listen, my sweet. However much you may feel the urge to try to help her you must make no attempt to do so; anyhow, for the present. I’m helpless here. Until I can stand on my feet again and give a good account of myself we’ll both remain in Malacou’s power. You’ve got to do your damnedest to act naturally tomorrow with both of them, and for the time being try to put out of your mind what you saw.’
Suddenly she jerked herself away from him, her eyes distended, her expression again one of terror. ‘But, darling, I thought I told you. They know I saw them.’
‘What!’ he exclaimed. ‘No! How could they?’
‘When I was kneeling on the roof of the chapel looking down at them my knees were on one beam and my hands on another. As I moved to get up I slipped. By then my hands were off the beam. One of them landed on a plank and it was rotten. Part of it snapped off and fell. For a moment I remained there petrified. They both stopped … stopped what they were doing and looked up. They must have known that it was I who was spying on them. Who else could it have been?’
‘It might have been a tramp who’d climbed up there hoping to find a way into the ruin to get a night’s shelter,’ Gregory suggested. But even as he spoke he knew that he was fooling himself. Malacou’s highly developed sixth sense would have told him that it was Erika who was up on the roof.
‘No, that won’t wash,’ he conceded quickly. ‘This is bad, my darling; very bad. But we mustn’t take too black a view. Malacou knows that we are in no position to make trouble for him, and there’s a chance that he may be too ashamed of himself to mention it. Anyhow, we must pretend that we know nothing of this, then he may think that you did not actually see what he was doing and supposed him only to be engaged in some occult ceremony. For us the really important thing is that we should keep clear of the Nazis; and that goes for him, too. He can’t throw us out without incriminating himself; so he’s got to keep us here until I’m fit to move under my own steam. Our best course will be to ignore the whole thing and we’ll hope that he and Khurrem will, too.’
After a while Erika agreed to do her best to act naturally with them both the next day; then she crept into bed with Gregory and lay for a long time with his arm about her. There could be no question now of their making love; only of her drawing sufficient strength from him to face the return journey past the chapel roof. In the early hours of the morning, when it seemed certain that the hideous ritual was long past its culmination and the chapel would again be deserted, she summoned up her courage to kiss him a belated good-night and set off on her way back to the Manor.
At his usual hour next morning Malacou came to Gregory’s room. There were pouches under his eyes and his dark face seemed more heavily lined than usual. Sitting down he said at once:
‘Before the arrival of your friends I told you that a new influence was about to make itself felt here and that it would be adverse to the rapport we had succeeded in establishing between us. When Kuporovitch reappeared I thought he would be the cause of it, but in that I was wrong. It is the woman whom you have made your mistress who has come between us, and I will not tolerate her presence here. She must leave tonight.’
That Malacou might make such a demand had never occurred to Gregory. Frantically he sought in his mind for a way to avert such a blow but, caught off his guard, he cried angrily, ‘You lecherous blackguard! This is because she found you out, eh?’
The doctor nodded. ‘She has brought this on herself. She saw things she was not meant to see.’
‘She did, indeed! And for you to embrace your daughter carnally is against the laws of God and man. We know you now for what you are—a Satanist. With her you performed a Black Mass. You can’t deny it.’
‘I do not seek to. But desperate situations require desperate remedies. Every Black Mass, as you term it, is said with an intention. Although I have said nothing of it, you know the situation that has arisen between Khurrem and Hauff. He has to die; and the ceremony I performed was with that intention.’
For a moment Gregory considered this explanation, then he said, ‘I know you are bitterly opposed to her marrying Hauff; although I’ve reason to suppose that she is not altogether unwilling. That makes things infinitely worse. And to have forced her to commit incest with you in the hope of getting rid of him is utterly unforgivable. Rather than perform such an abominable act surely you could have overcome your prejudice against him as a German and a Nazi. You did so in the case of von Altern. In fact you told me that you favoured the match and actually bought him for her.’
Malacou passed a hand wearily over his black, grey-flecked hair. Then he gave a slight shrug and said, less aggressively, ‘That was entirely different. Perhaps you will understand me better if I tell you that I have loved only two women in my life: my wife and Khurrem.
‘I married my wife when she was sixteen; at sixteen Khurrem had become the image of her dead mother. Condemn me if you will, but at that age I seduced her. She was not unwilling, for she thought more highly of me than of other men. For ten years we were completely happy and our relationship had nothing at all to do with Satanism. Then she met von Altern and fell desperately in love with him. I loved her dearly, so gave way to her pleading and arranged for her to marry him.
‘A few years later came the war and I left Poland to live here. Von Altern’s military duties had already taken him away. Khurrem is passionate by nature and she was then at an age when women feel their greatest desire for sexual satisfaction, so I soon persuaded her to play again the part of a wife to me. By that time I had progressed far in my occult studies and I needed a woman’s aid. At first she was reluctant, so I hypnotised her and in that way made her give herself to me as the culmination of an occult operation. But such ceremonies are far more effective if the woman is conscious of the part she plays and is willing. As time went on I lightened the state of hypnosis under which I took her, until from habit she accepted the role that fate had decreed for her. From that time onward, on certain favourable days each month, I have been able to continue my enjoyment of her with the advancement of my occult activities. It is thus that the present state of things has come about.’
Frowning, Gregory listened to this appalling story, then he said, ‘You have made her, then, your chattel; and, like yourself, a servant of the Devil.’
‘You may term her that,’ Malacou retorted defiantly, ‘but she is also my love, and I will not be robbed of her. I will allow nothing, nothing to come between us. That is why Hauff has to die; and your woman, who would try to part us, must go.’
‘No, no!’ Gregory protested. ‘I can’t possibly do without her.’
‘Tarik and I looked after you when neither she nor Kuporovitch was here and now that you are in a much better state it will be even easier for us to do so.’
‘Maybe! But God knows I’ve spent weeks enough alone here for hours on end. I need her companionship.’
‘You will have to do without it.’
‘Why the hell should I?’
‘Because her continued presence would interfere with the development of the psychic link between us.’
‘There will be no further link. I’ll see to that. Nothing will induce me to lend myself again to these practices. I’ll not have you lead me to become a servant of Satan.’
Malacou’s eyes flashed and his voice was firm. ‘That need not follow; but you will obey my wishes. And it is my wish that when Frau Bjornsen comes to see you this afternoon you should tell her that she must leave Sassen tonight.’
‘She will refuse. She’ll tell you to go to hell where you belong.’
‘She will not refuse. And unless she prefers to risk bringing the Gestapo here she will leave the Manor without making a scene. Remember, you are still a helpless cripple, so completely in my power. If I wish I could starve you into sending her away. But I do not want to impede your recovery. Instead, I shall have it conveyed to Herman Hauff that she is an anti-Nazi and is saying things detrimental to the regime. He will then have her deported.’
Gregory knew he was cornered. If he allowed Erika to resist and Malacou had her denounced her papers would be very strictly examined; then, should there be the least flaw in them, that might lead her into desperate trouble; whereas if she presented them herself at the frontier there was little to fear. Besides, even if they took the risk of ignoring his threat, in the belief that he would be most loath to draw the attention of the Gestapo to anyone who had stayed as a guest at Sassen, how could they possibly carry on a war against him when he had so many means of bringing pressure on them?
‘Very well, then,’ he agreed angrily; ‘since you insist, I’ll tell her she must leave.’
That afternoon proved one of the bitterest he ever remembered. For three hours he and Erika tried to think of a way in which they could get the better of the Satanist and force him to rescind his demand, but in vain. At length, tearfully and in great distress, they parted, Erika having promised to let Gregory know the moment she arrived safely in Sweden, by means of a message of thanks sent to her hostess.
For the next forty-eight hours Gregory got little sleep, both from worrying about Erika’s safety and about his own position; for Malacou did not come to see him, and speculating on the Satanist’s possible powers made him most uneasy. But on the second evening the doctor reappeared and brought with him a telegram addressed to Khurrem. It had been handed in the previous afternoon at Trelleborg and ran: Rotten crossing but soon over many thanks for generous hospitality. Selma.
When Gregory had seen it Malacou sat down and said, ‘For the past week I have been able to spare little thought for you, owing to my preoccupation with this affair of Khurrem’s; but now I am capable of concentrating again on other matters. Now you know that Frau Bjornsen has arrived safely in Sweden your mind should also be free from anxiety. Therefore, let us talk.’
‘I have nothing to say to you,’ Gregory replied quietly. ‘The only thing I intend to concentrate on is getting well, so that I can relieve you of my presence as soon as possible.’
‘In that you are mistaken,’ the doctor told him with equal quietness. ‘For our future relationship it is of the first importance that we should further develop the telepathic faculties that we have established between us.’
‘There will be no future relationship. When I leave this place I hope never to set eyes on you again; and if I do I shall avoid you like the plague.’
‘In that you are again mistaken. You cannot avoid your destiny and it is written in the stars that we shall be brought together. For some time past it has no longer been necessary for me to hypnotise you while attending to your leg. But if you refuse to co-operate with me I shall be forced to resume the practice and so compel your obedience.’
‘I won’t let you!’ Gregory burst out. ‘I did before, but now I’ll resist you with all the force of my will. And you’ll find it stronger than yours.’
Malacou closed his eyes and bent his head, then remained silent. Two minutes later Tarik came into the room and the doctor spoke to him in Yiddish. The hunchback advanced on Gregory. Bracing himself, he shouted at Malacou, ‘Call him off. If he lays hands on me I’ll strangle him.’
‘Should you try, you would be more of a fool than I take you for,’ remarked the doctor. ‘Tarik is very strong and if you struggle it is certain that you will re-break your leg.’
Gregory knew that to be true. Confronted with this awful dilemma, he let Tarik get behind him as he sat up in bed and place his hands firmly on both sides of his face; but he closed his eyes tightly and forced down his head. Tarik slowly pulled it up again and, although Gregory grabbed his wrists and pulled upon them, he found it impossible, without straining his body, to exert enough strength to break the grip.
While the hunchback held his head in that position, although Gregory’s eyes were closed, he knew that Malacou was staring at him with intense concentration. With all the strength of his will he strove to fight off the Satanist’s influence, and the wordless battle continued for nearly twenty minutes. Then, at last, Gregory felt his mind slipping and went under.
When he emerged from his trance Malacou was smiling, and said to him, ‘You have been under for only a few minutes as it is not my intention to take advantage of you if you will only be reasonable. I did as I did just now only to show you that I can dominate your mind whenever I wish. But it would be a foolish waste of time to enter on these struggles every day. Listen now to what I have to say and when you have heard me out I hope you will prove more amenable.
‘I admit to having misled you when I implied that as an occultist I had not Passed the Abyss. I am an Adept, although not a very advanced one, and there are still many limitations to my powers. But when I told you that many minor magics can be performed without any commitment to evil I was not lying. That is the case with fortune-telling, while to consult the stars is no more harmful than endeavouring to envisage a country unknown to one by studying a map. We come now to affecting others by means of occult power.
‘Whether you agree or not that witches and wizards can cast spells and destroy the health of people against whom they have a grudge, I think you will agree that certain holy persons of all religions have performed what we call “miracles”.
‘Such powers are derived through the practitioner drawing down to himself unseen forces that inhabit the spirit world. These forces are either Good or Evil and making use of them is termed either White Magic or Black Magic. For major operations it is necessary to call directly on the aid of either God or the Devil. The Saints could not have performed their miracles without praying for help to their Divinity, and I could not hope that Herman Hauff will die had I not appealed to the Lord of this World to destroy him for me.’
‘You admit, then,’ Gregory broke in, ‘that you are a worshipper of the Devil?’
Malacou nodded. ‘Yes, I have chosen to follow the Left Hand Path; because in no other way could I achieve my desires. But whether an act of magic is Black or White depends on the intention of the occultist who performs it. If it is undertaken for selfish ends, as was the case with the ceremony I performed to remove the menace to my happiness in the person of Hauff, it is Black. But if it is undertaken for unselfish ends it is White.
‘You do not stand in my path in any way. On the contrary, we have the same hatred for the Nazis and wish to bring about their ruin. Moreover, you must agree that in receiving you here in the first place, and for many weeks giving you the shelter of my home while you recover from your injuries, I have taken considerable risks on your behalf. There is, too, my conviction that we are destined to work together in the future and that you will save my life.
‘All this adds up to the fact that you have no possible cause to fear ill from me. Such minor magics as I have performed in connection with you have all been White. That I have used Black Magic for other purposes has no bearing on the matter. I do not expect you to approve of that any more than if you had found me out to be a sadist or a blackmailer. But I do ask that you should endeavour to put out of your mind, as far as possible, your knowledge that at times I perform acts of which you highly disapprove; and, in all other matters, regard me as your ally. Have I made myself clear?’
Slowly Gregory nodded. He felt that Malacou had made a big point by implying that while working against the Nazis he would not have rejected the help of any ordinary crook, and he could not dispute the fact that he owed his escape from death at their hands to the sanctuary that the doctor had afforded him. It had to be faced, too, that if he refused to comply with Malacou’s wishes the doctor had already proved that he could force him to under hypnosis. Mentally reserving to himself the right to oppose any act of Malacou’s towards himself that he considered suspect, he said:
‘All right, then. Provided we keep off the subject of Satanism, I’m willing to renew practising our telepathic communications.’
Having taken his decision he again entered on this mental activity, at first cautiously, then, when he found no harm came of it, with goodwill. As the December days progressed he was able to tell the doctor about the patients he had treated on his days at the clinic, while Malacou could always tell him what books he had been reading and how his attempts at walking were progressing. He was fast regaining his strength and with the aid of crutches could now propel himself not only about his room but up and down the walkway outside on the roof along which Erika had come on her two visits to him.
Shortly before Christmas he decided that in another week or so he would be fit enough to make a bid to get home. He was by then able to put his left foot to the ground and bear a little weight on it; and, although it might yet be a considerable time before he could dispense with a crutch, he saw that as no bar to his making the journey. At the prospect his mind naturally turned more and more frequently to happy thoughts of exchanging his dreary life in the old ruin for the joys of being with Erika and back at his comfortable flat in London. So he was not at all surprised when, on Christmas Eve, Malacou said to him:
‘Several times recently I have picked up your thoughts about leaving here.’
‘Yes,’ Gregory agreed. ‘I can already manage to dress without help in the clothes you procured for me to take my walks along the roof, and in about a week I shall be fully fit to travel on my own. I shall, of course, go by the route that Frau Bjornsen took; from Grimmen along the coast to Sassnitz, then cross by the ferry boat to Trelleborg. When I reach Stockholm I may have to wait about a bit until I can get back to England by one of the Mosquitoes they send over with despatches for the British Embassy, but I expect one comes in about once a week. The only tricky part will be getting from here to Grimmen. But I take it you could hypnotise Willi again, so that he can run me in by the lorry and have no memory afterwards of having made the trip.’
Malacou shook his head. ‘I fear that what you propose is out of the question.’
‘Why?’ asked Gregory quickly. ‘Has anything happened to Willi?’
‘No. It is simply that I have no intention of allowing you to leave here.’
‘What the devil do you mean?’
‘What I say. I have already told you more than once of my conviction that our fates are linked. Some months hence I shall enter a period of great danger. In fact, the stars foretell my death, unless it can be averted by a person whose horoscope is very similar to yours. The horoscopes of individuals vary even more than do their fingerprints, so the chances of anyone else capable of saving me being at hand when this crisis arises are extremely remote. If I allow you to return to England I cannot see you risking your life by coming back to this part of Germany as long as the war continues. Therefore, my own life depends on my keeping you here.’
‘In that you’re wrong,’ Gregory snapped angrily. ‘Even if you can succeed in detaining me as a prisoner—and that I doubt once I’ve got back the full use of my leg—when you are faced with death I swear I’ll not lift a finger to save you.’
‘Oh yes you will. The circumstances in which I shall be in dire peril are still hidden from me. But when the time comes you will be just as much a plaything of fate as myself. Your stars will compel you to act in my defence.’
‘Damn you!’ Gregory shouted. ‘I’ll force you to let me go. Now that I’m stronger I’ll no longer allow you to dictate to me. Good always triumphs over evil. I’ll break that evil will of yours. Come on! I challenge you.’
As he spoke he looked straight into Malacou’s eyes. The doctor closed his for a moment, then opened them again and returned Gregory’s stare. For what seemed an endless time to Gregory he strove with all his mind to overcome that of his adversary, but the dark, hooded eyes into which he was gazing remained unwinking and gradually seemed to grow larger. At length he could see nothing else and felt his concentration weakening. He knew then that he was beaten and, with a cry of despair, lowered himself with bowed head on to the side of his bed.
Sentenced again to spend further months as a prisoner, the bitterness of his thoughts on Christmas Day were exceeded only by those on the afternoon that Malacou had forced him to part with Erika. Now that he was nearly fit to travel the frustration he felt at being held against his will was overwhelming, and it kept him awake for the best part of the night. But next morning his thoughts were temporarily distracted from his miserable situation by a new event.
Malacou burst in upon him, his eyes bright with excitement and so agitated with delight that he could hardly speak. As Gregory stared at him, he gasped out, ‘Praise be to Iblis! He has hearkened to his servant. Hauff is dead!’
‘Dead!’ Gregory exclaimed. ‘Is he really?’ For he had never seriously credited the Satanist’s belief that his abominable ceremony would have the desired end. ‘What happened? How did he die?’
‘He was in that powerful car of his. He always drove it like a maniac, without a thought that he might kill someone. And now he’s killed himself. I’m told he went in to a Weihnachtsfest party in Greifswald yesterday and I’ve no doubt he got drunk. When he was driving home in the early hours this morning he crashed into a farm wagon. His car was smashed to pieces and he died from his injuries shortly afterwards.’
‘Well, that’s that.’ Gregory relaxed on his bed. ‘You’ve got your wish, but as there’s a living God you’ll have to pay for it when the time comes to settle all accounts.’
‘Maybe, maybe,’ the Satanist muttered, his expression suddenly changing to one of fear. ‘But Khurrem is mine! Khurrem is mine! No-one can now take her from me.’
‘I wouldn’t be too certain of that,’ Gregory remarked cynically. ‘She’d be very attractive if she cleaned herself up and, remember, she is an heiress. Some other chap may get the idea that he’d like to take her on and become the master of Sassen.’
Malacou shook his head. ‘No, no. If that were likely I’d have read it in the stars. She must now go through a black patch; a very black patch. But no other man is coming into her life.’
Snow fell next day and for some days afterwards Gregory had to give up his exercise on the roof from fear of slipping as, even when Tarik had swept a path along the walkway for him, temporary thaws brought down little avalanches which continued to make it dangerous. But every day he now spent several hours exercising in his room with most satisfactory results. Meanwhile he cudgelled his brain for a way to outwit Malacou, but, resourceful though he was, he could think of no safe way of getting into Grimmen unless he could persuade the Satanist to hypnotise Willi.
Another week had dragged by when, on the afternoon of New Year’s Eve, much to his surprise, Khurrem paid him a visit. Understandably, she had not done so since Erika had seen her lying naked on the altar of the chapel in flagrante delicto with her father and, as she came in, Gregory wondered how she had managed to overcome her embarrassment at facing him again.
Looking at her, he recalled her father’s having said that she was due to go through a very bad period, for her condition had greatly deteriorated since he had last seen her. The fine grey eyes that at times lit up her face were dull and had big black shadows beneath them. Her red hair had obviously not been properly done for several days, her long face looked thinner than ever and her cheeks were furrowed.
Gregory’s first thought was that he might possibly be able to make use of her in some plan to escape but, even if she could be persuaded to drive him into Grimmen, as Malacou had the power to read both her thoughts and his, it seemed certain that the Satanist would gain knowledge of their intentions and take steps to frustrate them.
As he reluctantly dismissed the idea, she produced a letter and said, ‘Mr. Sallust, you are an upright man and the only person here whom I can trust. I know that you must think very badly of me, but if you knew the story of my life I think you might pity rather than despise me. At least I feel sure you will not refuse to do me a small service. I want you to keep this letter until tomorrow morning; then open and read it, and afterwards give it to my father.’
‘Certainly I’ll do that,’ he replied, taking the letter. ‘I’m afraid you have been going through a very bad time. If there is any other way in which I can help you, please tell me. It is not for any of us to sit in judgement on others, so whatever you care to say to me you need have no fear that I’ll make any comment that will hurt you.’
‘No,’ she said sadly. ‘If I had married Herman Hauff things might have turned out better for me, but there is nothing anyone can do to help me now. You’ll promise, though, not to open my letter until tomorrow morning, won’t you?’
‘Yes, I promise,’ he said gravely.
At that she began to walk towards the door, but on reaching it she turned and said, ‘I shan’t be seeing you again. I’m going away. But that’s in the letter, so you mustn’t tell my father. I’m frightened of him. But you need not be, because you have great courage. You will get away, too. My occult sense tells me that. I shan’t go far at first, so I’ll be thinking of you and trying to help you. When you get back to England give my … my love to your beautiful lady. She, too, was kind to me.’
When Khurrem had gone Gregory sat on the edge of his bed thinking for a long time about her. Knowing how tragic her life had been, he felt that she was more sinned against than sinning, so was deeply sorry for her. By her decision to break away from her evil father she had shown more guts than Gregory would have expected, and he found himself smiling wryly at the fury Malacou would be in next morning when he learned that she had left him.
In consequence, he felt no surprise when the Satanist roused him from sleep by again bursting in on him early on New Year’s Day. Malacou’s face was haggard and his eyes wild. He seemed utterly distraught as he stood for a moment staring down at Gregory. Suddenly he gave a wailing cry, then gasped:
‘Woe is me! Woe is me! My Master has betrayed me. Khurrem is dead! Khurrem is dead!’
Pulling himself up in bed, Gregory cried, ‘Good God! I knew she intended to leave you but not … not that way.’
‘She asked for death,’ Malacou wailed. ‘She has taken her own life. Immediately I woke I knew that something terrible had happened. I hurried over to the Manor. And there she was. Dead! Dead with an empty bottle of sleeping tablets still clutched in her hand. Oh, woe is me! Woe is me! I am undone and desolated. I loved her beyond bearing and she is now gone from me.’
Gregory had put Khurrem’s letter beneath his pillow. Fishing it out, he opened it and read the spiky handwriting, which ran:
I can stand no more, so I have decided to take my life. My regret at Herman Hauff’s death plays no part in this. I did not love him, but as his wife might again have found some peace of mind. I did not hate my father for what he did to me when I was sixteen and the guilt for allowing him to continue as my lover was as much mine as his. But more recently he has used my body for his abominable rites. The thought of what may result from this haunts me with terror. His caresses have become loathsome to me, and for having forced me to become a hand-maiden of evil I can never forgive him. To his other sins must be added his driving me to put an end to my earthly being. May he meet with his deserts in the Hell that he deserves and may the Lord God of Israel have mercy on my wretched spirit.
Khurrem von Altern
Having read this terrible missive, Gregory said gravely, ‘Khurrem left this with me yesterday afternoon. She told me to read it this morning, then give it to you.’
Malacou took the letter and his thick red lips moved slowly as he read it through. When he had taken in its contents he let it flutter to the floor. Then falling on his knees he began to moan and bang his forehead on the ground.
Suddenly Gregory felt impelled to look away from him towards the door. His eyes dilated, for he could have sworn that for a moment Khurrem was standing there. She was pointing at her father and her soundless words rang through Gregory’s brain like a trumpet call.
‘Now! Now! His mind is distraught. He cannot resist you. Now is your chance to defeat him.’
Instantly he seized his crutch, slipped out of bed and stood over Malacou. Still on his knees, wringing his hands and tearing at his hair, the Satanist wailed, ‘I have lost her! I am accursed! Oh, woe is me! What shall I do? Oh, what shall I do?’
‘I will tell you,’ Gregory shouted at him.
Ceasing his cries, Malacou stared up at the figure towering over him.
‘You will go downstairs and fetch that drawing of the Sephirotic Tree,’ Gregory said firmly.
‘You … you have thought of some way to help me,’ Malacou stammered. ‘Yes, yes; the stars have declared you to be my friend and guardian.’ Staggering to his feet, he lurched out of the room. Two minutes later he came running back, clutching the ancient parchment.
‘Now,’ Gregory commanded, ‘tear it up.’
Malacou’s eyes filled with amazement, then they flickered. He shuddered, his hands trembled and from his mouth saliva ran down his chin. ‘No!’ he panted. ‘No! I cannot. It is a sacred document.’
‘You must,’ Gregory cried harshly. ‘You must! Only by recanting from evil can you hope to escape the curse that Khurrem has put upon you.’
For a long moment the eyes of both of them remained locked in silent battle. Gregory was praying frantically, ‘O Lord, help me to overcome him! Dear Lord, help me to overcome him!’ Suddenly his body responded to a divine command. Placing the foot of his injured leg firmly on the ground, he threw away his crutch.
He did not fall or even need to ease the weight his foot had taken, but remained drawn to his full height glowering at Malacou. At the sight of his action the Satanist wilted. His eyes fell and with shaking hands he tore the parchment from top to bottom.
That evening, the 1st of January 1944, Gregory left Sassen. On the 25th of the month he landed safely in England.