The Devil Rides Out ddr-6

by Dennis Wheatley

  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 widespreading 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. At a low estimate there must have been Ł100,000 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 tiptoed 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 at one 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 attempts 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’Urfe 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 motor-car 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 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 ca
r 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 by-road, and they followed for a few miles upward on to the higher level of the desolate rolling grasslands, 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 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, path like 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 new 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 is 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 less 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 understanding.

  ‘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.’ Then 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.

  CHAPTER XVI

  THE SABBAT

  Straining their eyes and ears for every sound and movement from the assembly in the dark shadows below, Rex and the Duke lay side by side on the rim of the saucer-shaped depression in the downland.

  As far as they could judge, they were somewhere about halfway between the two hamlets of Imber and Tilshead, with Chitterne All Saints in their rear and the village of Easterton, where Tanith had crashed, about five miles to the north. The country round about was desolate and remote. Once in a while some belated Wiltshire yokel might cross the plain by night upon a special errand created by emergency; but even if such a one had chanced to pass that way on this Walpurgis-Nacht, the hidden meeting-place—guarded by its surrounding hills—was far from the nearest track, and at that midnight hour no living soul seemed to be stirring within miles of the spot which the Satanists had chosen for the worship of their Infernal Master.

  In the faint starlight they could see that the tables were now heaped with an abundance of food and wine, and that the whole crowd had moved over towards the throne round which they formed a wide circle, so that the nearest came some little way up the slope and were no more than fifty yards from where the Duke and Rex lay crouched in the grass.

  ‘How long does it last?’ Rex asked, beneath his breath, a little nervously.

  ‘Until cock-crow, which I suppose would be at about four o’clock at this time of the year. It is a very ancient belief that the crowing of a cock has power to break spells, so these ceremonies, in which the power to cast spells is given, never last longer. Keep a sharp look out for Simon.’

  ‘I am, but what will they be doing all that time?’

  ‘First, they will make their homage to the Devil. Then they will gorge themselves on the food that they have brought and get drunk on the wine; the idea being that everything must be done contrary to the Christian ritual. They will feast to excess as opposed to the fasting which religious people undergo before their services. Look! There are the leaders before the altar now.’

  Rex followed the Duke’s glance, and saw that half a dozen black figures were placing tall candles—eleven of them in a circle and the twelfth inside it — at the foot of the throne.

  As they were lighted the twelve candles burned steadily in the windless night with a strong blue flame, illuminating a circle of fifty feet radius including the tables where the feast was spread. Outside this ring the valley seemed darker than before, filled with pitch-black shadows so that the figures in the area stood out clearly as though upon a bright circular stage.

  ‘Those things they have lighted are the special black candles made of pitch and sulphur,’ muttered the Duke. ‘You will be able to smell them in a minute. But look at the priests: didn’t I tell you that there is little difference between this modern Satanism and Voodoo? We might almost be witnessing some heathen ceremon
y in an African jungle!’

  While the crowd had been busy at the tables, their leaders had donned fantastic costumes. One had a huge cat mask over his head and with a furry cloak, the tail of which dangled behind him on the ground; another wore the head-dress of a repellent toad; the face of a third, still masked, gleamed bluish for a moment in the candle-light from between the distended jaws of a wolf, and Mocata, whom they could still recognise by his squat obesity, now had webbed wings sprouting from his shoulders which gave him the appearance of a giant bat.

  Rex shivered. ‘It’s that infernal cold again rising up the hill,’ he said half-apologetically. ‘Say—look at the thing on the throne. It’s changing shape.’

  Until the candles had been lit, the pale violet halo which emanated from the figure had been enough to show that it was human and the face absolutely black. But, as they watched, it changed to a greyish colour, and something was happening to the formation of the head.

  ‘It is the Goat of Mendes, Rex!’ whispered the Duke. ‘My God! this is horrible!’ And even as he spoke, the manifestation took on a clearer shape; the hands, held forward almost in an attitude of prayer but turned downward, became transformed into two great cloven hoofs. Above rose the monstrous bearded head of a gigantic goat, appearing to be at least three times the size of any other which they had ever seen. The two slit-eyes, slanting inwards and down, gave out a red baleful light. Long pointed ears cocked upwards from the sides of the shaggy head, and from the bald, horrible unnatural bony skull, which was caught by the light of the candles, four enormous curved horns spread out—sideways and up.

  Before the apparition the priests, grotesque and terrifying beneath their beast-head masks and furry mantles, were now swinging lighted censers, and after a little a breath of the noisome incense was wafted up the slope.