To the Devil, a Daughter

by Dennis Wheatley

  The meal justified his recommendation, but John scarcely noticed the wonderful selection of hors-d’oeuvres, or the point at which he passed from eating Loup flambé to Escalope de Veau Milanese—he was too intent on Malouet’s report and the discussion that followed.

  Apparently getting Christina out of prison had proved a much easier matter for the Canon than her friends had supposed would be the case, as he had found it necessary to exert his occult powers on only one person.

  Three nights before, a murder had occurred in Nice. At a bistrot in the old part of the town a sailor had been mortally wounded by a knife-thrust during a brawl in which several men were concerned. There was some doubt which of two men had delivered the fatal stab, and the patron of the place declared that a girl called Marie Courcelle must know the truth, because the quarrel had been over her and she had been within an arm’s length of the victim when the stabbing took place. The two suspects were Marie’s lover and her brother, and both were under arrest, but she, evidently reluctant to give evidence against either, had promptly disappeared. However, the police had picked her up the previous morning in Marseilles, taken her into custody as a material witness, brought her back to Nice in the afternoon and lodged her in the women’s prison which also held Christina.

  In accordance with French police practice, the Juge d’Instruction had ordered a re-enactment of the affair at the scene of the crime with all the principal participants present; and that no time might be lost he had ordered it for that evening at approximately the same hour as the stabbing had taken place two evenings earlier. It was at this point that the Canon must have entered the game.

  The assumption was that he had learnt of the affair when, on his arrival, he had discussed ways and means with the de Grasses and had decided to make use of the Juge d’Instruction. In any case, for some reason which this examining magistrate was afterwards utterly unable to explain, he had written Christina’s name instead of Marie’s on the form authorising the release of prisoners under guard for questioning. A Black Maria had picked up the two men then called for Christina. The head wardress on duty knew nothing of the enquiry the magistrate was conducting and had acted on the instruction to hand over Christina, simply assuming that she was required for questioning about her own case at the Préfecture.

  On the arrival of the Black Maria at the bistrot the mistake had at once become apparent. The magistrate, still presumably under the influence of the Canon, had then decided that the Black Maria should remain outside for the time being with the two men in it, while Christina was sent back to prison in a taxi and Marie brought there instead. A single gendarme had, quite reasonably, been considered an adequate escort for one young woman, and as a taxi driver, who had been having a drink at the bistrot when it was temporarily cleared by the police, was still outside among the little crowd that had collected they set off in his cab.

  In the light of what had then occurred it seemed certain that the taxi driver was one of de Grasse’s people, and had been deliberately planted in the bistrot. After driving a few hundred yards he had turned into a dark alley-way, pulled up and opened the door of his cab. He had told the gendarme that he had stopped only to slip into his lodgings to pick up the thermos of hot coffee his wife would have ready for him for his night’s work. While he was talking, another man opened the other door of the cab and, as the gendarme turned, squirted a water pistol in his eyes. The driver had then hit him on the back of the head, rendering him unconscious. He had come round to find himself bound, gagged and face down among some bushes. Later he had recovered sufficiently to squirm his way on to a path near the gate of a private garden, and to attract the attention of a passer-by. He had been dumped in the grounds of a villa on the road to Villefranche and he naturally had no idea what had become of the taxi or Christina.

  When Malouet had finished his report, C.B. asked, ‘How about Upson’s seaplane? Is it known where he landed the Canon?’

  ‘We think so;’ Malouet pulled at his grey moustache; ‘but we cannot be absolutely certain. Last night there was a strange occurrence out at the great reservoir from which Nice draws her water supply. It is situated some miles inland from the city, up a broad valley in which few people live, other than scattered market-garden cultivators. Soon after dark a car drove up to the quarters of the Superintendent. The men who work there had gone for the day; so he was alone except for his wife and son and the night watchman, who has a small office in the building. Four armed men got out of the car, entered the place, herded its inmates into the boiler-room and kept them there for three-quarters of an hour. There was no attempt at robbery and no damage done, other than the disconnecting of the telephone.

  ‘When the intruders had gone the Superintendent reported this apparently pointless hold-up to the police. They could offer no theory to account for it then; but further enquiries in the neighbourhood this morning elicited the information that a seaplane was seen to come down on the reservoir about an hour after sunset. It would not have been visible from any considerable distance, but several people saw it land, and take off again about twenty minutes later. A woman living nearby states that a covered lorry with powerful headlights had been stationary on the road alongside the reservoir for some time before the plane came down. Such a large sheet of water would, of course, be easy to pick up as long as there was any light at all; so the headlights near it were probably used not only to help guide it in, but also as a signal to the pilot that all preparations had been made for his landing. Evidently, too, the men who held up the Superintendent and night watchman did so to ensure that they should know nothing of this illegal proceeding until after it had been completed; so they would be unable to interfere or communicate with the police.’

  ‘I take it the police have not succeeded in tracing the lorry?’ C.B. asked.

  Malouet made a negative gesture. ‘One could hardly expect them to. Its presence there was not reported till this morning, and the description given of it was only of the vaguest.’

  ‘Then the Canon has got away with the game again,’ John commented bitterly. ‘It is a hundred to one on that having been Upson’s seaplane. And how darned clever of them to have planned the timing of the job so well. By delaying his departure till the afternoon, Copely-Syle was able to fly practically straight in to Nice, yet give Upson the benefit of last light for crossing the mountains. He must have worked fast, though, to have pulled that one over the Juge d’Instruction so soon after his arrival.’

  C.B. shrugged. ‘Two and a half hours should have been ample if the de Grasses had the job already planned and everything prepared for him. Then there is always the possibility that it proved unnecessary to resort to a magical operation. Not all law officers would be above taking a bribe to alter a name in an official document.’

  ‘This man is, I think, an honourable magistrate,’ Malouet said. ‘But one can never be certain of such things. There is, too, the fact that Satanism is world-wide in its ramifications; so it is even possible that he is a secret associate of the Canon’s, and acted as he did on a simple request.’

  ‘Have you reason to suppose that Black Magic is widely practised down here?’ C.B. enquired.

  ‘I would not say that. Among the peasants up in the hill villages sorcery has played its part from time immemorial, and still does so. On the coast there is some sorcery, too, of a quite different type, which is resorted to by people who live here only for the gambling. Inveterate gamblers are always superstitious and easily become the dupes of occultists who promise them aid to win money at the tables. But activities which suggest the presence of genuine Satanists are no more frequent here than in Paris or Marseilles.’

  ‘I asked because I think it very unlikely that the Canon will attempt to tackle this business tonight on his own. Even if he doesn’t assemble a full coven, he will almost certainly need a few brother warlocks to assist him with the homunculus. It occurred to me that if there are certain people in these parts whom you suspect of being practitioners of the Bla
ck Art, we might trace him through them.’

  ‘You have been thinking on the same lines as myself,’ Malouet nodded. ‘There is an antique dealer in Cannes, a Polish countess living here in Nice, and one or two others who may be worth investigating. I was going to suggest that this afternoon we should see if we could pick up a lead from one of them.’

  ‘What about the de Grasses?’ John demanded. ‘They are up to their ears in this.’

  The ex-inspector gave him a pitying look. ‘Is it likely that we should have neglected them, Monsieur; or that they are such fools as to have exposed themselves? M. le Marquis is still laid up with his wound and Count Jules has an alibi covering him from seven o’clock till past midnight.’

  ‘But they must know the whole story. Upson is their man and the Canon travelled by his seaplane.’

  ‘There is no proof whatever, Monsieur, that the seaplane that landed on the reservoir was Upson’s.’

  ‘Who can doubt it; or that the de Grasses did all the spade work for getting Christina out of prison?’

  ‘Let us accept that,’ agreed Malouet. ‘The police are endeavouring to trace the lorry which presumably drove away the Canon and the homunculus, and the taxi in which Mademoiselle Christina was carried off. But in both cases they have very little to go on, and nothing at all that links either up with the de Grasses.’

  ‘They know the truth! We must get it out of them!’ exclaimed John impatiently.

  Molly laid a hand on his arm. ‘Johnny dear, don’t be unreasonable. Since there is nothing with which they can be charged, the police have no excuse for questioning them; and they certainly won’t give anything away to us.’

  ‘But, Mother, we’ve got to make them, somehow,’ he protested. ‘It is our only chance to find out what has been done with Christina.’

  ‘There is still a chance that we may get a line through one of these occultists whom Monsieur Malouet suggests that we should investigate this afternoon,’ C.B. put in quietly.

  ‘Perhaps! But we have only this afternoon left to work in,’ John argued desperately. ‘So we can’t possibly afford to ignore the only people we are all convinced could give us the facts if they liked. I am going to ring up Jules and make him give me an appointment.’

  ‘Just as you like.’ C.B. gave a little shrug. ‘But I’m afraid you will be knocking your head up against a brick wall.’

  John jumped up and left the table to telephone. When he returned a few minutes later he said, ‘I got on to Jules at the Capricorn, and he has agreed to see me at four o’clock. Mother, you’ll drive me over, won’t you? And I’d like Mr Beddows to come with us. He has certain arguments which I think might induce Jules to talk.’

  Beddows had taken very little part in the conversation, but he now gave a quick nod and said, ‘I get the idea: it’s OK by me.’

  C.B. had also got it, and turned a serious glance on John. ‘It’s worth trying, though I doubt if Jules will prove willing to make any admissions, whatever you offer. Still, I can guess how you must be feeling; so good luck.’

  As they left the table Malouet said, ‘Colonel Verney and I will maintain contact with the police in case they pick up any information about the lorry or the cab, and will spend the afternoon ourselves making enquiries in other quarters. If you wish to get in touch with us, ring up Inspector Drouet at the Préfecture in Nice. I will see to it that he knows from time to time where to get hold of us.’

  Outside the airport they separated, C.B. and Malouet taking a taxi into the city, while Molly took the road to St Tropez with John and Beddows as her passengers. At her villa they made a brief halt to drop their suitcases, but out of his Beddows took the bulk of his banknotes and stuffed them in his pockets. They reached the Capricorn soon after four, and as they drove up to the hotel Molly said to John: ‘I don’t think I’ll come in with you, Johnny. I’ll just wait in the car and say a little prayer that things may go the way you want them to.’

  ‘Thanks, Mother.’ He leaned over and gave her a quick kiss. ‘Keep on praying till we come out, please. This means an awful lot to me.’

  On giving his name he was shown up at once to the de Grasses’ suite. Jules let them in and John introduced Beddows to him. The young Frenchman gave Christina’s father a swift, appraising look, then led them into the sitting-room. When they were settled there John said: ‘I’d like to come straight to the point. A few days ago you offered to double-cross Canon Copely-Syle if I would make it worth your while to do so. Is that offer still open?’

  Jules’s eyebrows rose in evident amusement. ‘A lot has happened since then; and things are rather different now, aren’t they?’

  ‘You mean that I caused you a lot of trouble, and that it was largely owing to my having taken a hand in the game that your father was wounded?’

  To John’s surprise, Jules replied, ‘No; I wasn’t thinking of that. You made yourself a nuisance, of course, but even if you hadn’t been with us at the château that hell-cat might have got hold of Upson’s pistol and run amok as she did; so I reckon that what we lost on the swings owing to your intervention we more than made up for on the roundabouts. I saw you knock the gun up when she was about to shoot my father through the heart. I am very fond of my father, and it was your having saved his life that decided me to hear anything you had to say this afternoon.’

  John smiled a little awkwardly. ‘I’m afraid I can’t take any great credit for that, as it’s a natural instinct not to want to see murder done. But of what were you thinking, when you said things are different now?’

  ‘Simply that as we have already handed over the goods I don’t think there is much that we can do.’

  ‘You could put us on to the men who met the Canon, and those who later kidnapped Christina.’

  ‘Perhaps; but that would mean laying certain friends of mine open to criminal proceedings; and that I am naturally not prepared to do.’

  ‘I’m ready to ante-up handsome, Count,’ Beddows put in. ‘I’ve quite a tidy sum on me, and if more is needed I don’t doubt I could fix passing it through the Tangier International Zone.’

  ‘Thank you, sir,’ said Jules, with a frigid little bow. ‘But it is not in the tradition of my family to sell our servants.’

  John was tempted to make a swift retort to the effect that it was even more shameful to traffic in dope, arms and women; but he checked himself in time, and said, ‘May I ask you a question?’

  ‘By all means.’ Jules snapped a gold, pocket gas-lighter to the Gitane cigarette that was hanging from his lips.

  ‘Do you know where Christina is now?’

  ‘I haven’t an idea.’

  ‘Then do you know where the Canon plans to hold this abominable ceremony tonight?’

  With a genuinely puzzled look Jules asked, ‘What ceremony?’

  ‘Surely you are aware of the reason why he has been trying to get hold of Christina?’

  ‘No. I thought he just had a yen for her. Old boys do get that sort of thing for young girls, you know; and are often willing to part with a lot of money for a chance to gratify it.’

  ‘This is something very different. He wants to use her in what, for lack of a better name, we will call a Black Mass.’

  ‘Really!’ Jules’s plump face showed only cynical interest. ‘That sounds very intriguing. Ellen, or Christina, or whatever you like to call her, would look pretty good stretched out naked on an altar. I think I must try to muscle in on that.’

  John fought down an impulse to hit him, and said, ‘If you did, as the culminating point of the ritual consists in cutting her throat, you might find yourself later being charged as an accessory to murder.’

  Letting out a low whistle, Jules stood up. ‘So it’s not just fun and games, eh? Well, I don’t wish her any harm, even if she is half off her nut; but I’m afraid there is not much I can do about it.’

  ‘You said that you might muscle in on the ceremony. Could you do that? Or, at all events, find out where it is to take place?’

&nb
sp; ‘I might, but it would not be easy. We did all that was required of us last night and were paid well for our trouble; but, to be honest, I don’t think my own people could help much. What you have just told me explains a lot. You must already have a pretty shrewd idea how the two jobs were done; so there’s no point in my concealing from you what happened afterwards. The Canon and the big crate he brought with him were taken to a villa on the outskirts of the town. Some three hours later Christina, doped and concealed in a large trunk, was delivered at what I imagine to have been the same place; but of that I can’t be certain. You see, when the men who did these jobs reported to me this morning, none of them had anything but the vaguest idea where they had been. They couldn’t even recall the district in which the villa lay.’

  ‘Oh hell!’ John groaned, at the thought that his last hope was slipping away. ‘Then that swine of a Canon pulled a fast one on you too, and hypnotised your men into forgetting where they had driven.’

  Jules nodded. ‘That’s about it. I couldn’t understand what had come over my chaps this morning; but now you tell me that he is contemplating murder, the reason why he went to such lengths to cover up his tracks is obvious.’

  ‘All the same,’ Beddows put in, ‘you said just now that you might be able to find out where the ceremony is going to take place.’

  ‘I could try; but it would mean putting a lot of people on the job, and they would have to work fast. You see, by this time the Canon may have carted Christina off to anywhere between Mentone and Marseilles, to have her handy to some devil-ridden spot suitable for doing her in; so we shall have to cast a very wide net.’