Death by the Mistletoe

by Angus MacVicar

  “No,” he lied, speaking distinctly. “No other shrines have been discovered.”

  There was a sudden sharp click behind him. Tearing the clinging arms from around him, he leapt to his feet. Miss Dwyer chuckled; and had she been a man James would have cursed her.

  When he turned he jumped back like a cat. Where the small bookcase had been a black hole now gaped in the wall. He could see steps leading down from the entrance, down into the very bowels of the earth. In front of the yawning cavern stood O’Hare and the giant whose knife had wounded James in the cave. Their dark faces leered malignantly. Mr. Anderson Ellis, stood, stiff as a ramrod, by the door. He was dressed in a dark suit, and his emaciated face glowed with some fanatic purpose.

  “Be off with him!” he snapped.

  *

  In a few seconds before he acted a confused mass of thoughts whirled through James’s brain. He was caught like a rat in a trap: that was clear. There was no chance of escape from the room save by the guarded entrances. But … but he would show them a thing or two when it came to fighting!

  The meaning of the black hole in front of him and of the dummy bookcase was now as clear as daylight. How blind and easily gulled both the police and he had been! It had never occurred to them to suspect Lagnaha House as being the proof of Major Dallas’s theory of the secret entrance to the Piper’s Cave. And yet, when he came to think of it, the place ought from the first to have been an object of some suspicion at least. The Rev. Archibald Allan’s body had been found on the main road, close to the Lagnaha Avenue. Mr. Anderson Ellis had done his best to suggest the “death by lightning” idea, during the first police investigations, and had scoffed at the theory of murder. Then there was Miss Dwyer’s scream when Detective-Inspector McKay and he had leaped into the side-cave.

  Obviously she had accompanied the “well-meaning ones” to the Piper’s Cave as a blind and to divert suspicion from Lagnaha House.

  His stolen car, too, had been found in a side road not half a mile from Lagnaha House. And James remembered the handkerchief with the laundry-mark, E19. Who could tell but that Mr. Anderson Ellis himself had come to fetch his niece from the Dalbeg drawing-room and had dropped it as they fled across the garden together? Her apparent loss of memory, too, had been a mere subterfuge to allow her freedom from police questioning, and had also effectively served the purpose of preventing the suspicions of the authorities from falling upon her uncle and herself. She would have made a magnificent actress … Further, there was a large staff of menservants in Lagnaha House, the personnel of which was always changing. Might not these people, as a matter of fact, be the cave-dwellers, taking their fresh air and exercise in relays? Might their numbers not include messengers from other branches of the cult throughout the kingdom?

  Everything had to be considered from a new aspect now that the scales had been forcibly tom from his eyes. If only he had discovered Mr. Anderson Ellis’s secret in other circumstances! If only he could get back to tell the police! But … it was too late.

  There was only one patch of brightness in the dark. The Fiscal, with a lack of caution for which he could not in the circumstances be wholly blamed, had told Mr. Anderson Ellis something at least of the authorities’ knowledge of the cult. But it was clear from the questions which had been put to him by Miss Dwyer that the “well-meaning ones” were still unaware that every secret shrine in the country, save the one in Blaan, had been located, and that vast police preparations, based upon these discoveries, were being made for Wednesday night. And James, by good luck, had been able to keep such facts hidden, and even to strengthen an erroneous belief in the minds of the cult. Na Daoine Deadh Ghinn, therefore, would, he thought, proceed with their plans to carry out the lesser Festival at the accustomed time and places. But he grew hot as he realised how close a woman had brought him to giving away the vital secret.

  Then another thought struck him. Was he himself to be a victim, a sacrifice at the Festival in Blaan on the following night? The sudden dreadful suspicion sent the blood throbbing in his temples, and he went berserk, like a cornered stag. While the fleeting thoughts were streaming through his mind he had been standing motionless on the hearthrug, his sloping shoulders hunched, waiting for the attack of O’Hare and his companion. But now, as his breathing became laboured and a red light danced before his eyes, he took the initiative.

  His face was white as death, and the red weal of the knife-wound stood out plainly on his left cheek. His hair was like a cloud of flame above his high forehead. He leapt at O’Hare.

  Miss Dwyer screamed shrilly. She had chuckled at James’s surprise at the appearance of the men in the room, imagining that he would submit without a struggle; but now she was terrified at the desperate purpose in his eyes.

  But James’s last fight with O’Hare was not yet to be. Numbers were against him. He closed with the big man, and let loose a tearing left swing. The blow struck O’Hare on the side of the jaw and he staggered back, cursing. His companion caught James round the waist in a bear-grip, endeavouring to throw him. They swayed, stamping on the soft pile of the grey carpet. But James caught his opponent’s chin and forced his head back and back, until the bear-grip loosened.

  “Damn it!” exclaimed Mr. Anderson Ellis, standing watchful by the door. “Can neither of you great oafs subdue him?”

  But now O’Hare had recovered from the shock of James’s first assault, and had circled behind him. His great hands closed about the throat of his victim, and he placed his knee cruelly in the small of his back. He pulled, and his arms were as strong as steel springs. James reeled headlong to the floor. O’Hare kicked him in the side as he lay, winded.

  “Tie him up!” Mr. Anderson Ellis’s voice was like a whip-lash. “Don’t stand there gloating!”

  O’Hare had the necessary cord in his pocket. James’s wrists were lashed behind him. They raised him to his feet, and prepared to lead him through the entrance to the cave. He was trembling and had some difficulty in breathing. A great centre of pain throbbed in his side where O’Hare’s shoe had struck.

  Miss Dwyer rose sinuously from the divan. She stood, hands on hips, in front of him.

  “Shall I come and visit you in the night?” she mocked, smiling.

  “You’re not a woman,” said James quietly.

  She slapped him stingingly on the wounded cheek; but he did not heed the pain. He had already plumbed the lowest depths of humiliation. Would he ever see Eileen again to ask her forgiveness for his weakness?

  *

  The flight of steps leading down into the darkness was a little damp and the air was musty. James was guided by O’Hare and the other giant, both of whom gripped an arm tightly. O’Hare had a torch which lit the way before them. The bookcase door had clicked shut soon after they had begun to descend the steps, and for some time James heard the fading murmur of talk between Miss Dwyer and her uncle, who had remained behind in the perfumed room.

  After a while, when they had reached the foot of the steps, he saw that the masonry of the walls had given place to solid rock. The cave resembled exactly its Kiel entrance, except for the fact that the floor here was formed of cement. Soon, however, the cement, too, was replaced by the usual loose gravel. On and on they marched, until James’s feet and legs ached, and his spirit was almost broken. Once or twice he faltered in his stride, and his captors, who seemed accustomed to walking on the shelving surface, shook him roughly, growling curses and threats.

  James realised that he must make an effort to keep his mind off his dreadful position or else go mad. He struggled to view affairs and events calmly and dispassionately, and at last achieved a more reasonable outlook. But time and again, like a nagging toothache, the knowledge of his hopeless plight would return to him with relentless clarity.

  To begin with, he attempted to occupy his thoughts with the question of Mr. Anderson Ellis’s place in the scheme of things … Obviously both O’Hare and his companion looked upon him as their superior, for they had shown no rese
ntment at his curt orders. And they had obeyed him implicitly. Was he one of the “well-meaning ones,” or was he the unknown intermediary — GII — mentioned by Merriman of the Secret Service, between the foreign Power and the cult? James inclined to think that he was a leader — if not actually the High Priest — of Na Daoine Deadh Ghinn. His niece, he thought, must be a member of the cult, for her eyes were those of O’Hare and the white-robed man who had visited Dalbeg. And her power was as evil as hell. And if the niece was of the cult, was her uncle not likely to be also?

  James marvelled further at the submissive bearing of O’Hare when in the presence of the laird of Lagnaha. On his first meeting with the giant on the quay at Campbeltown he had imagined him to be the kind of man who would acknowledge no master; and the power of his will, which had occasioned James an eerie experience, had strengthened him in this opinion. Apparently, however, Mr. Anderson Ellis was the superior personality. Even Miss Dwyer seemed to consider the two big men as on a lower footing than herself. Then James remembered what Professor Campbell had said concerning Na Luchd Bais, the hereditary executioners of the “well-meaning ones.” Could it be that men of this rank in the cult were despised, a race apart, like the executioners of the Middle Ages?

  When they had tramped for a seemingly interminable period the two giants stopped at the entrance to a kind of narrow alleyway. It was a place not unlike the “lobby” through which James had carried the Professor, though much wider and roomier. James had an idea that they were not far from the surface of the ground at this point, for the air was sweet and fresh, and a distinct draught was coming from the roof. They must, he thought, be directly beneath one of the many narrow shafts connecting the cave with the upper ground.

  He wondered, too, if they were much distant from the spot where the engine and the dynamo were placed, and where, apparently, those who resided in the cave had their living quarters. He made a small mental calculation. Lagnaha, by road, was five miles distant from Kiel; but it was clear that the cave followed underground the direction of the Blaan Valley. The numerous small rock crevices to be found by walkers along this route, which might easily proved on expert investigation to be air-shafts leading down to the cave, lent weight to the theory. The actual length of the cave, then, between Lagnaha and Kiel, would, going on this assumption, be something like six miles. Now, he and Major Dallas, when discussing the matter had been fairly certain that they had penetrated, from the Kiel entrance, some three miles underground. And on this occasion, according to James’s idea, they had tramped well over two miles from the Lagnaha entrance. He speculated, therefore, on the question of whether this alleyway was, in fact, the opposite end of the “lobby” which had been blocked against their raid, and of whether, if such were the case, the passage was an artificially wrought connection between what had originally been two caves, one having an entrance at Kiel and the other an entrance at Lagnaha. Had the living-caves and other necessary apartments been hollowed out in this warmer and drier section of the long tunnel? Later investigations proved the correctness of James’s theory.

  The matter of the water-supply for the cave could have presented no difficulties to its occupants. There had been a stream of water crossing the floor some distance in from the Kiel end, and during the long tramp from Lagnaha, James and his guards had twice to step across chuckling rivulets, percolating through, perhaps, from the river Con, which ran along the Blaan Valley. Such was the only reasonable explanation of the plentiful supply which James could hit upon, when the unusual drought in the district was considered.

  Only a few yards from the entrance to the alleyway, too, there was a yawning hole to the left, apparently a branch cave of some size. James wondered if this were the part of the cave leading on towards the exit on Bengullion.

  Where his guards stopped, he noticed a line of metal rings cemented into the solid wall of the alleyway, and at once he understood what they purposed to do with him.

  Using a length of rope carried by O’Hare’s companion, the two huge men tied his wrists securely to one of the rings.

  “Good night, Mr. MacPherson!” said O’Hare. “Pleasant dreams!”

  The sound of their footsteps receded into the blackness. James was left alone in the clammy silence.

  CHAPTER XIII

  Of his confinement in the cave, James spent twenty-four hours alone. They were bitter hours, filled with mental and physical pain; but they caused him trifling inconvenience compared with the remainder of his imprisonment. For when Major Dallas and the others were tied up beside him he learned of Eileen’s capture, and he could have screamed in his agony.

  Though he had little chance to know the time, he calculated that it must have been about five o’clock on the Tuesday afternoon when O’Hare and the other giant had left him trussed up, his bound wrists tied to the immovable metal ring behind him. But in the darkness, and by reason of the thoughts which continued to rush chaotically through his brain, he latterly lost all count of the hours.

  He was secured in such a manner that any sudden movement on his part resulted in a painful twisting of his arms, and, as a consequence, he stood throughout his imprisonment practically motionless. He grew cold, and his muscles, especially those in his legs, became cramped and stiff. Once or twice a fiery pain darted along the small of his back, from the part of his side which had been kicked by O’Hare. The draught from the air-shaft, too, which existed close above him, played constantly about his hair, and, as a result, for a day or two following the final scene in the strange story of the “Mistletoe Murders,” he suffered from a severe cold in the head. But that cold, as it happened, was cured speedily and effectively by a certain delightful means.

  There were no signs of life in the cave — as far as James could tell — for many hours after his captors left him. It must have been about one o’clock on the Wednesday morning, indeed, when the first bustle began, and he discovered the correctness of his theory regarding his position in the cave. Lights flickered on far down the alleyway to his right, and with a roar and a whine the engine and dynamo burst into life. They could not have been situated more than a hundred yards from where he stood. Above the noise he heard the clatter of men’s feet on cement. Voices growled, and there was once a sound of laughter. But no one came near him for a time.

  The engine and dynamo continued to work for a period which might have been from one to two hours. Though the drone was loud in the alleyway, James had an idea that the machines were quite small. And, indeed, when the cave was thoroughly explored during the following week-end, it was discovered that the engine was a three-horse-power crude-oil model, the sound of whose running in the open air would not have been heard two hundred yards away. The dynamo, too, was of the size ordinarily used in country houses for the supply of electricity. But James knew well enough that even a small dynamo can generate sufficient power to destroy many persons.

  He wondered vaguely how many men lived in the cave. It was obviously the headquarters, at the moment, of O’Hare and Muldoon, and of the man in the white robe who had visited Dalbeg. And from the sound of voices there must be many others living there, probably men of similar or somewhat inferior rank to the latter. James surmised that to Na Daoine Deadh Ghinn the cave stood in the same relationship as a seminary does to members of the Roman Catholic faith. It would house ministers of the cult — those who were expert in the lore of the ancient ritual and who interpreted it to the ordinary devotees. It would be those men who placed the mistletoe on the breasts of the victims and made the mystic signal to the executioners to unloose the shackled lightning by which the sacrifices were slain. It would be those men who taught the lost science of hypnotism to Na Luchd Bais, their servants.

  Some weeks later James wrote a series of articles on his adventures for the enterprising editor of a Sunday paper in Glasgow, who was able to outbid his London competitors. In these vivid accounts, from which this rather more prosaic chronicle has been compiled, there is one passage giving fairly complete details conc
erning the number of men who must have lived in the cave and their manner of existence, during the eighteen months of its occupancy by the “well-meaning ones.”

  *

  Fifteen men all told [James wrote] had their residence in the Piper’s Cave in Blaan, under the direct control of the High Priest. The latter, of course, did not actually remain in the cave for more than a few hours daily; but his immediate lieutenant, an Englishman named Merson, who from his birth was dedicated to the cause of the cult, seldom quitted this subterranean fastness. On one notable occasion, previously recorded in this series, he did, however, make an expedition to Dalbeg to capture Professor Campbell, in company with two of Na Luchd Bais. Of these fifteen men, seven, including Merson, were priests or ministers, five were body-servants, while the remaining three were OʼHare, Muldoon and Barlow, three of the executioner class. During the day they usually slept, though sometimes, indeed, they emerged into the sunshine, to work as servants in Lagnaha House. In this manner, they kept fit and well, and since Mr. Anderson Ellisʼs staff was always changing, they aroused no suspicion in the minds of chance wayfarers in the grounds.

  All the inmates had their special tasks allotted to them. The priests, dressed continually in long, white robes, toiled at their ancient books, and prepared rituals to suit the changing conditions of the world, copying extracts for distribution to other less important centres of the cult. One hour after midnight was spent each morning by the priests in a kind of religious service, one part of which, I have ascertained, consisted of a long invocation to the god of the lightning. The bodily comforts of these men were attended to by servants The latter cooked the food, which came to them each morning from Lagnaha, on small electric fires; washed and made certain clothes, and ensured the cleanliness of the seven cave apartments in which the community slept and worked-Two of these men had been electrical engineers by trade, and their special routine was to keep the underground plant in first-class condition. It was under their supervision that the installation had been originally carried out. They had also devised the scheme whereby an attack on the cave from the Kiel end could be frustrated by a dynamite blast, which, bringing down earth and stones from above, on the touch of an electric button, would completely block the entrance to the “lobby”. Its effectiveness I have described elsewhere.