nction  properly
again  directly  he  set to busying himself with  the  maps  and
scales.
  The  Duke, sitting in the body of the machine with Marie  Lou,
felt that there was nothing he could say to comfort her, but  he
took her hand in his and held it between his own. From his quick
gesture she felt again his intense distress that he should  ever
have  been  the means of bringing her this terrible unhappiness,
so, to distract his thoughts, she put her mouth right up against
his ear and told him of the odd dream she had had; about reading
the  old  book. He gave her a curious glance and began to  shout
back at her.
  She  could  not catch all he said owing to the  noise  of  the
engine, but enough to tell that he was intensely interested.  He
seemed  to  think that she had been dreaming of the  famous  Red
Book  of  Appin,  a  wonderful treatise on Magic  owned  by  the
Stewards of Invernahyle, who were now extinct. The book had been
lost  and  not heard of for more than a hundred years,  but  her
description  of it, and the legend that it might  only  be  read
with  understanding by those who wore a circlet  of  iron  above
their brow made him insistent that it must be this which she had
seen in her dream. He pressed her to try and remember if she had
understood any portion of it.
  After  some trouble she managed to convey to him that she  had
read one sentence on a faded vellum page, and that although  the
lettering was quite different from anything which she  had  ever
seen before, she understood it at the time, but could not recall
the  meaning now. Then, as talking was so difficult,  they  fell
silent.
  At  a hundred miles an hour the plane soared above the English
counties,  but they took little heed of the fields  and  hedges,
woods  and  hills,  which  fled so swiftly  from  beneath  them.
Somehow  they  seemed  to have stepped out  of  their  old  life
altogether.  Time no longer existed for them, only the  will  to
arrive  at  their destination in order to be active once  again.
All  their thoughts were concentrated now upon Paris and the man
who  had  lost half his ear. Would he be there? Could they  find
him if he was? And would they arrive before Mocata?
  They  passed  over  the Northern end of  the  English  Channel
almost  without noticing it; Marie Lou felt a little shock  when
the plane banked steeply and Richard brought it circling down.
  The  sun was sinking behind great banks of cloud and,  as  the
plane  tilted, she saw that a thick mist lay below them in which
glowed dull patches of half-obscured light. Richard and Rex knew
them,  however,  to  be  fog flares of the  Le  Bourget  lauding
ground.
  A few seconds more and they had seen the last of the sunset. A
thin  greyness  closed  about them. One  of  the  flares  showed
bright,  and  the  plane bounded along the earth  until  Richard
brought it to a standstill.
  Almost  in a daze they answered the questions of the  officers
at  the  airport and passed the Customs, secured a  fast-looking
taxi  and,  packed  inside it, were heading for  the  centre  of
Paris.
  As  they  ran  through the streets, with  the  familiar  high-
pitched  note  of the taxi's horn continually sounding  and  the
subtle  smell of the epiceries in their nostrils-the very  scent
of  Paris-they noticed half-unconsciously that night had  fallen
once more.
  Here  and  there the electric sky-signs on the tall buildings,
advertising Savan Cadum or Byrrh, glowed dully through the murk,
and  the  lights of the cafes illuminated little spaces  of  the
boulevards  through which they passed, throwing up  the  figures
that sat sipping their aperitifs at the marble-topped tables and
dappling  the  young green of the stunted trees that  lined  the
pavements.
  None  of  them  spoke as the taxi swerved and rushed,  seeking
every opportunity to nose its way through the traffic. Only  Rex
leant  forward  once, soon after they left  the  aerodrome,  and
murmured:  'I told him the Ritz. We'll be able to hunt  up  this
bird's address when we get there.'
  They  ran  past the Opera, down the Boulevard de la Madeleine,
and turned left into the Place Vendome. The cab pulled up with a
jerk.  A liveried porter hurried forward to fling open the door,
and they scrambled out.
  'Pay him off, with a good tip,' Rex ordered the hotel servant.
'I' see-yer-later, inside.' Then he led the way into the hotel.
  One  of  the under-managers at the bureau recognised  him  and
came forward with a welcoming smile.
  'Monsieur  Van Ryn, what a pleasure! You require accomo-dation
for  your  party? How many rooms do you desire? I hope that  you
will stay with us some time.'
  Two single rooms and one double, with bathrooms, and we'd best
have a sitting-room on the same floor,' replied Rex curtly. 'How
long  we'll be staying I can't say. I've got urgent business  to
attend  to  this  trip. Do you happen to  know  a  banker  named
Castelnau-elderly man, grey-haired, with a hatchet  face,  who's
had a slice taken out of his left ear?'
  'Mais oui, monsieur. He lunches here frequently.'
  'Good. D'you know where he lives?'
  "For  the  moment, no, but I will ascertain. You permit?'  The
manager  moved briskly away and disappeared into the  office.  A
few  moments later he returned with a Paris telephone  directory
open in his hand.
  'This  will be it, monsieur, I think. Monsieur Laurent  Castel
nau,  72,  Maison Rambouillet, Pare Monceau. That is a block  of
flats. Do you wish to telephone his apartment?'
  'Sure,'  Rex nodded, 'Call him right away, please.'  Then,  as
the  Frenchman hurried off, he nodded quietly to the Duke: 'Best
leave this to me. I've got a hunch how to fix him.'
  'Go  ahead,' the Duke acquiesced. He had been keeping well  in
the  background, and now he smiled a little unhappily as he went
on in a low voice:
  'How  I  love Paris. The smell and the sight and the sound  of
it.  I have not been back here for fifteen years. The Government
have  never  forgiven  me for the part  that  I  played  in  the
Royalist rising which took place in the 90's. I was young  then.
How  long ago it all seems now. But never since have I dared  to
venture back to France, except a few times, secretly on the most
urgent  business. I believe the authorities would, still put  me
into  some  miserable fortress if they discovered me  on  French
soil.'
  'Oh, Greyeyes, dear! You ought never to have come.' Marie  Lou
turned   to  him  impulsively.  'With  all  these  awful  things
happening I had forgotten. Somehow I always think of.you  really
as  an Englishman, not as a French exile who lives in England as
the  next  best thing. It would be terrible if you were arrested
and tried as a political offender after all these years.'
  He  shrugged  and  smiled again. 'Don't worry,  Princess.  The
authorities  have almost forgotten my existence, I  expect,  and
the  only risk I run is in knowing so many people who constantly
travel  through France. If someone recognised me  and  spoke  my
name  too loud it is just possible that it might strike a  chord
in  some  police  spy's memory, but beyond that  there  is  very
little danger.
  They  sat down at a little table in the lounge while  Rex  was
telephoning. When he rejoined them he nodded cheerfully.
  'We're  in  luck,  and  Lord knows we  need  it.  I  spoke  to
Castelnau  himself,  used  the name of  my  old  man's  firm-The
Chesapeake Banking and Trust Corporation-and spun a yarn that he
had  sent me over on a special mission to Europe connected  with
the franc. Told him the whole thing was far too hush-hush for me
to  make a date to see him at his office tomorrow morning, where
his  clerks  might  recognise me as  the  representative  of  an
American  banking  house,  and  that  I  must  see  him  tonight
privately.  He  hedged a bit until I put it to him  that  I  had
power  to deal in real big figures, and he fell for that like  a
sucker. He couldn't see me yet though, because he's busy putting
on  his  party frock for some official banquet, but  he  figures
he'll  be  back at the apartment round about ten o'clock,  so  I
said I'd be along to state my business then.'
  To fill in time we might go upstairs and have a bath, remarked
Richard, feeling his bristly chin. 'Then we'd better go out  and
dine somewhere, though God knows, I've never felt less like food
in my life.'
  'All  right,'  De Richleau agreed, 'only let us  go  somewhere
quiet  for dinner. If we go to one of the smart places  it  will
add to the chance of my running into somebody that I know.'
  'What  about Le Vert Galant?' Richard suggested. 'It's on  the
right  bank down by La Cite, old-fashioned, quiet, but excellent
food, and you're unlikely to see the sort of people that we know
there in the evening.'
  'Is  that still running?' De Richleau smiled. 'Then let us  go
there  by  all means. It's just the place.' And they moved  over
towards the lift.
  Upstairs  they bathed and tidied themselves, but  almost  auto
matically,  for their uneasy sleep that morning seemed  to  have
done little to recruit their lowered energy. As though still  in
a  bad  dream,  Marie Lou undressed,' and dressed  again,  while
Richard moved about the room, for once apparently unconscious of
her  presence, silently and mechanically eliminating the  traces
of  the  journey. Then he submitted to the ministrations of  the
hotel barber with one curt order, that the man was to shave  him
and not to talk.
  Rex  finished first and wandered into their room, where he sat
uncomfortably perched upon a corner of the bed, but he stared at
his large feet the whole time that he sat there and did not make
any effort whatever at conversation.
  De  Richleau  joined them shortly afterwards, and  Marie  Lou,
rousing for a moment from her abject misery, noted with a little
start  how  spick  and  span  he had  become  again,  after  the
attentions  of the barber and his bath. He had produced  one  of
his  long  Hoyos,  and  appeared to be  smoking  it  with  quiet
enjoyment.  Richard  and  Rex,  despite  the  removal  of  their
incipient beards, still looked woebegone and haggard, as  though
they  had  not  slept  for days, and were  almost  contemplating
suicide,  but  the Duke still maintained his air  of  the  great
gentleman  for  whose  pleasure  and  satisfaction  this   whole
existence is ordered.
  Actually  his  appearance was no more than a mask  with  which
long  habit had accustomed him to disguise his emotions, and  at
heart  he was racked by an anxiety equal to that of any  of  the
others.  He  was  suppressing his  impatience  to  get  hold  of
Castelnau only by a supreme effort; his feet itched to be on the
move, and his fingers to be on the throat of the adversary;  but
as  he  came into the room he smiled round at them, kissed Marie
Lou's  hand with his usual gallantry, and presented a huge bunch
of white violets to her.
  'A few flowers, Princess, for your room.'
  Marie Lou took them without a word; the tears brimming in  her
eyes  spoke  her thanks that he should have thought  of  such  a
thing  at  such  a time, and his perfect naturalness  served  to
steady  them  all a little as they went down afterwards  in  the
lift.  Rex changed some money at the caisse, and they  went  out
into the night again.
  'Queer-isn't  it,' remarked Richard as he looked  out  of  the
taxi window at the fog-bound streets. 'I've always said what fun
it  is  to make a surprise visit for a couple of nights to Paris
-in  May. It's like stealing in on summer in advance-tea in  the
open  at Arrnenonville-a drive to Fontamebleau, with the  forest
at  its very best-and all that. 'I never thought I might come to
Paris one May like this.'
  'I've a feeling there's something wrong about it-or us,'  said
Rex  slowly. 'Those servants in the hotel back there didn't seem
any  more natural than the weather to me. It was as though I was
watching them act in some kind of play.'
  De  Richleau  nodded.  'Yes, I felt the same,  and  I  believe
Mocata  is  responsible. Perhaps he surrounded  Cardinals  Folly
with  a  strong  atmospheric force,  and  we  have  brought  the
vibrations  of  it  with us, or he may be interfering  with  our
auras  in  some  way. I'm only guessing, of  course,  and  can't
possibly explain it.'
  At   the  Vert  Galant  De  Richleau  ordered  dinner  without
reference to any of them. He was a great gourmet, and knew  from
past experience the dishes that pleased them best, but as a meal
it  was  one of the most dismal failures which it had ever  been
his misfortune to witness.
  He  knew  and  they knew that his apparent preoccupation  with
food  and  wine was nothing but a bluff; an attempt  to  smother
their anxiety and occupy their thoughts until the time to go  to
Castelnau's apartment should arrive, The cooking was  excellent,
the service everything that one could desire, and the cellar  of
Le  Vert  Galant  provided  wines to which  even  De  Richleau's
critical taste gave full approval, but their hearts were not  in
the business.
  They  toyed with the Lobster Cardinal, sent away the  Paujllac
Lamb untasted, and drank the wines as a beverage to steady their
nerves  rather  than with the consideration and  pleasure  which
they deserved.
  The  fat maiire d'hotel supervised the service of each  course
himself, and it passed his understanding how these three men and
the  beautiful  little  lady could show so little  appreciation.
With  hands  clasped upon a large stomach, he stood  before  the
Duke  and murmured his distress that the dishes they had ordered
should  not appear to please them, but the Duke waved him  away,
even  summoning up a little smile to assure him that it  was  no
fault  of  the  restaurant and only their  unfortunate  lack  of
appetite.
  Throughout the meal De Richleau talked unceasingly. He  was  a
born  raconteur, and ordinarily, with his charm and  wit,  could
hold  any audience enthralled. Tonight, despite his own anxiety,
he  made a supreme attempt to lift the burden from the shoulders
of   his  friends  by  exploiting  every  venue  of  memory  and
conversation,  but never in his life had his  efforts  met  with
such  a  cold  reception. In vain he attempted to  divert  their
thoughts,  laughing  a  little to himself,  as  he  reached  the
denouement in each of his stories, and hoping against hope  that
he  might raise a smile in those three anxious faces that  faced
him across the table.
  For Marie Lou the meal was just another phase of that horrible
nightmare  through which she had been passing  since  the  early
hours  of the morning. Mechanically she sampled the dishes which
were put before her, but each one seemed to taste the same,  and
after  a  few  mouthfuls  she  laid down  her  fork,  submitting
miserably  to  the frantic, gnawing thoughts which pervaded  her
whole being.
  Richard said nothing, ate little, and drank heavily. He was in
that  state  when he knew quite well that it was impossible  for
him  to  drink  too much. Great happiness or great distress  has
that  effect  upon certain men, and he was one  of  them.  Every
other  minute he glanced at the clock on the wall, as it  slowly
registered  the passage of time until they could set forth  once
more on their attempt to save his daughter.
  There  was still half an hour to go when the fruit and  brandy
were  placed  upon  the  table, and then  at  last  De  Richleau
surrendered.
  'I've  been  talking  utter nonsense all through  dinner,'  he
confessed  gravely; 'only to keep my thoughts off this  wretched
business, you understand. But now the time has come when we  can
speak of it again with some advantage. What do you intend to do,
Rex, when you see this man?'
  Marie  Lou lifted her eyes from the untasted grapes which  lay
upon her plate. 'You've been splendid, Greyeyes, dear. I haven't
been listening to you really, but a sentence here and there  has
been just enough to take my mind off a picture of the worst that
may happen, which keeps on haunting me.'
  He  smiled  across at her gratefully. 'I'm glad of that.  It's
the  least that I could try to do. But come now, Rex, let's hear
your plan.'
  'I've  hardly  got  one,' Rex confessed, shrugging  his  great
shoulders. 'We know he'll see me, and that's as far  as  I  have
figured it out. I presume it'll boil down to my jumping  on  him
after a pretty short discussion and threatening to gouge out his
eyeballs  with my hands unless he's prepared to come clean  with
everything he knows about Mocata.'
  De  Richleau  shook  his head. That is roughly  the  idea,  of
course, but there are certain to be servants in the flat, and we
must arrange it that you have a free field for your party.'
  'Can't  you  take us along with you?' Richard suggested.  'Say
that we're privately interested in this deal you're putting  up.
If  only  the  three  of us can get inside that  flat  God  help
anybody who tries to stop us forcing him to talk.'
  'Sure,'  Rex agreed. 'I see no sort of objection to  that.  We
can park Marie Lou at the Ritz again, on our way, before we beat
this fellow up.'
  'No!' Marie Lou gave a sudden dogged shake of her head. 'I  am
coming with you. I'm quite capable of taking care of myself, and
I  will  keep out of the way if there is any trouble. You cannot
ask me to go back to the hotel and sit there on my own while you
are  trying to obtain news of Fleur. I should go mad  and  fling
myself  out  of  the window. I've got to come, so  please  don't
argue about it.'
  Richard  took her hand and caressed it softly. 'Of course  you
shall, my sweet. It would be better, perhaps, for you not to  be
with  us  when we see Castelnau, but there's no reason  why  you
shouldn't wait for us in his hall.'
  De  Richleau  nodded.  "Yes, in the  circumstances  it  is  im
possible  to  leave Marie Lou behind, but about  these  servants
-did you bring that gun that you had last night with you?'
  'Yes,  I brought it through the Customs in my hip pocket,  and
it's fully loaded.'
  'Right.  Then  if necessary you can use it to  intimidate  the
servants  while Rex and I tackle Castelnau. It is a quarter  to.
Shall we go?'
  Rex sent for the bill and paid it, leaving a liberal tip which
soothed  the  dignity of the injured maitre d'hotel,  then  they
filed out of the restaurant.
  'Maison  Rambouillet,  Pare Monceau,'  De  Richleau  told  the
driver sharply as they climbed into the taxi, and not a word was
spoken  until the cab drew up before a palatial block of  modern
flats, facing on to the little green park where the children  of
the rich in Paris take their morning airing.
  'Monsieur Castelnau?' the Duke inquired of the concierge.
  This way, monsieur'; the man led them through a spacious stone
faced hall to the lift.
  It  shot up to the fifth floor and as he opened the gates, the
concierge pointed to a door upon the right.
  'Number  Seventy-two,'  he  said quietly.  'I  think  Monsieur
Castelnau has just come in.'
  The  gates clanged behind them, and the lift flashed  silently
down  again  to the ground floor. De Richleau gave Rex  a  swift
glance  and,  stepping towards the door of  Number  Seventy-two,
pressed the bell.


                               31

                   The Man With the Jagged Ear

  The  tall,  elaborately  carved door was  opened  by  a  bald,
elderly  man-servant in a black alpaca coat. Rex gave his  name,
and the servant looked past him with dark, inquiring eyes at the
others.
  'These are friends of mine who're seeing Monsieur Castelnau on
the  same business,' Rex said abruptly, stepping into the  long,
narrow hall. 'Is he in?'
  'Yes,  monsieur,  and he is expecting you. This  way,  if  you
please.'
  Marie  Lou perched herself on a high couch of Cordova leather,
while  the  other three followed the back of the  alpaca  jacket
down  the  corridor. Another tall, carved door was thrown  open,
and  they entered a wide, dimly-lit salon, furnished in the  old
style  of French elegance: gilt ormolu, tapestries, bric-a-brac,
and  a  painted ceiling where cupids disported themselves  among
roseate flowers.
  Castelnau  stood, cold, thin, angular and hatchet-faced,  with
his  back  to  a  large porcelain stove. He was dressed  in  the
clothes which he had worn at the banquet. The wide, watered silk
ribbon  with the garish colours of some foreign order cut across
his  shirt front and a number of decorations were pinned to  the
lapel of his evening coat.
  'Monsieur Van Ryn.' He barely touched Rex's hand with his cold
fingers  and  went on in his own language. 'It is a pleasure  to
receive you. I know your house well by reputation, and from time
to  time  in  the  past my own firm has had some  dealings  with
yours.'  Then he glanced at the others sharply. These  gentlemen
are, I assume, associated with you in this business?’
  'They  are.'  Rex  introduced  them  briefly.  'The  Duke   de
Richleau-Mr. Richard Eaton.'
  Castelnau's  eyebrows  lifted a fraction  as  he  studied  the
Duke's  face  with  new  interest.  'Of  course,'  he  murmured.
'Monsieur  le Due must pardon me if I did not recognise  him  at
first.  It is many years since we have met, and I was under  the
impression  that he had never found the air of  Paris  good  for
him;  but perhaps I am indiscreet to make any reference to  that
old trouble.'
  'The  business  which has brought me is urgent, monsieur,'  De
Richleau replied suavely. "Therefore I elected to ignore the ban
which a Government of bourgeois and socialists placed upon me.'
  'A  grave  step, monsieur, since the police of France  have  a
notoriously long memory. Particularly at the present  time  when
the Government has cause to regard all politicals who are not of
its  party  with suspicion. However,' the banker bowed slightly,
'that,  of  course,  is  your own affair  entirely.  Be  seated,
gentlemen. I am at your service.'
  None  of the three accepted the proffered invitation, and  Rex
said abruptly: 'The bullion deal I spoke of when I called you on
the  telephone was only an excuse to secure this interview.  The
three of us have come here tonight because we know that you  are
associated with Mocata.'
  The  Frenchman stared at him in blank surprise  and  was  just
about  to  burst into angry protest when Rex hurried on.  'It'll
cut  no ice to deny it. We know too much. The night before  last
we  saw  you at that joint in Chilbury, and afterwards with  the
rest  of  those  filthy  swine doing  the  devil's  business  on
Salisbury Plain. You're a Satanist, and you're going to tell  us
all you know about your leader.'
  Castelnau's dark eyes glittered dangerously in his long, white
face. They shifted with a sudden furtive glance towards an  open
escritoire.
  Before  he could move, Richard's voice came quiet but  steely.
'Stay  where you are. I've got you covered, and I'll  shoot  you
like a dog if you flicker an eyelid.'
  De  Richleau caught the banker's glance, and with  his  quick,
cat-like step had reached the ornate desk. He pulled out  a  few
drawers, and then found the weapon that he felt certain must  be
there.  It  was  a  tiny  .2 pistol, but deadly  enough.  Having
assured  himself  that  it was loaded,  he  pointed  it  at  the
Satanist. 'Now,' he said, icily, 'are you prepared to  talk,  or
must I make you?
  Castelnau shrugged, then looked down at his feet. 'You  cannot
make  me,' he replied with a quiet confidence, 'but if you  tell
me  what  you  wish  to  know,  I  may  possibly  give  you  the
information you require in order to get rid of you.'
  'First, what do you know of Mocata's history?'
  'Very  little, but sufficient to assure you that  you  are  ex
ceedingly  ill-advised  if, as it appears,  you  intend  to  pit
yourself against him.'
  To  hell  with that!' Rex snapped angrily; 'get  on  with  the
story.'
  'Just as you wish. It is the Canon Darnien Mocata to whom  you
refer,  of  course.  When he was younger he was  an  officiating
priest  at  some  church in Lyons, I believe. He  was  always  a
difficult person, and his intellectual gifts made a thorn in the
sides of his superiors. Then there was some scandal and he  left
the  Church;  but long before that he had become an occulist  of
exceptional  powers.  I  met  him  some  years  ago  and  became
interested in his operations. Your apparent disapproval of  them
does  not  distress  me  in the least. I find  their  theory  an
exceptionally  interesting  study, and  their  practice  of  the
greatest  assistance  in  governing  my  business  transactions.
Mocata lives in Paris for a good portion of the year, and I  see
him  from time to time socially in addition to our meetings  for
esoteric purposes. I think that is all that I can tell you.'
  'When did you see him last?' asked the Duke.
  'At  Chilbury two nights ago, when we gathered again after the
break-up  of  our  meeting, I suppose you were  responsible  for
that?' Castelnau's thin lips broke into a ghost of a smile,  'If
so, believe me, you will pay for it.'
  'You have not seen him then today-this evening?'
  'No, I did not even know that he had returned to Paris.' There
was a ring in the banker's voice which made it difficult for his
questioners to doubt that he was telling them the truth.
  'Where does he live when he is in Paris?' the Duke enquired.
  'I  do  not know. I have visited him at many places. Often  he
stays  with  various  friends, who are also  interested  in  his
practices, but he has no permanent address. The people with whom
he  was  staying  last  left  Paris  some  months  ago  for  the
Argentine,  so I have no idea where you are likely to  find  him
now.'
  'Where  do  you  meet him when these Satanic  gatherings  take
place?'
  'I  am sorry but I can't tell you.' The Frenchman's voice  was
firm.
  De  Richleau padded softly forward and thrust the little Mstol
into Castefnau's ribs, just under his heart. 'I am afraid 'ou've
got to,' he purred silkily. 'The matter that we are engaged upon
is urgent.'
  ,  The  banker  held  his ground, and to  outward  appearances
remained  unruffled  at the threat. 'It is  no  good,'  he  said
quietly,  I cannot do it, even if you intend to murder me.  Each
one  of  us  goes  into  a self-induced hypnotic  trance  before
proceeding to these meetings, and wakes upon his arrival. In  my
conscious  state I have no idea how I get there; so this  apache
attitude of yours is completely useless.'
  'I see.' De Richleau nodded slowly and withdrew the automatic.
'However,  you  are going to tell me just the same,  because  it
happens  that  I am something of a hypnotist. I  shall  put  you
under now, and we shall proceed to follow all the stages of your
unconscious journey.'
  For the first time Castelnau's face showed a trace of fear.
  'You can't,' he muttered quickly. 'I won't let you.'
  De  Richleau shrugged. 'Your opposition will make it  slightly
more difficult, but I shall do it, nevertheless. However, as  it
may take some time, we will make fresh arrangements in order  to
ensure that we are not disturbed. Press the bell, and when  your
servant  comes, give him definite instructions that as we  shall
be  engaged in a long conference, upon no pretext whatsoever are
you to be disturbed.'
  'And  if  I  refuse?' Castelnau's dark eyes  suddenly  flashed
rebellion.
  'Then you will never live to give another order. The affair we
are engaged upon is desperate, and whatever the consequences may
be,  I  shall  shoot  you like the rat you are.  Now  ring.'  De
Richleau put the pistol in his pocket but still held the  banker
covered,  and after a moment's hesitation Castelnau pressed  the
bell.
  'You,  Richard,' the Duke said in a sharp whisper, 'will leave
us when the servant has taken his instructions. Wait for us with
Marie  Lou  in  the  entrance hall. You have your  gun.  Prevent
anyone  leaving the apartment until we have finished.  Open  the
door to anyone who rings yourself, and if Mocata arrives, as  he
may   at   any   moment,   don't   argue-shoot.   I   take   all
responsibility.'
  'I  am only waiting for the chance,' said Richard grimly, just
as the servant entered.
  Castelnau gave his orders in an even voice, with one eye  upon
the  Duke's pocket, then Richard, in his normal voice,  remarked
casually:
  'Well,  since  the matter is confidential, I had  better  wait
outside  with rny wife until you are through,' and followed  the
elderly alpaca-coated man out into the hall.
  'Rex,'  De  Richleau lost not an instant  once  the  door  was
closed.  Take that telephone receiver off its stand so  that  we
are  not  interrupted by any calls. And you,' he turned  to  the
banker, 'sit down in that chair.'
  'I won't!' exclaimed Castelnau furiously. 'This is abominable.
You   invade  my  apartment  like  brigands.  I  give  you  such
information as I can, but what you are about to do will bring me
into danger, and I refuse-I refuse, I tell you.'
  'I  shall  neither argue with you nor kill you,'  De  Richleau
answered frigidly, 'You are too valuable to me alive. Rex, knock
him out!'
  Castelnau  swung round and threw up his arms in a  gesture  of
defence,  but Rex broke through his guard. The young  American's
mighty  fist  caught him on the side of the jaw and he  crumpled
up, a still heap on his own hearth-rug.
  When the banker came to he found himself sitting in a straight
chair;  his hands were lashed to the back and his ankles to  the
legs  with the curtain cords. His head ached abominably  and  he
saw  De  Richleau standing opposite to him, smiling relentlessly
down into his face.
  'Now,'  said the Duke, 'look into my eyes. The sooner  we  get
this business over the sooner you will be able to get to bed and
nurse your sore head. I am about to place you under, and you are
going  to  tell  us  what you do when you go  to  these  satanic
meetings.'
  For  answer Castelnau quickly closed his eyes and lowered  his
head   on   to  his  chest,  resisting  De  Richleau's  powerful
suggestion with all the force of his will.
  This  doesn't look to me as though it's going to  be  any  too
easy,' Rex muttered dubiously. 'I've always thought that it  was
impossible  to  hypnotise people if they were  unwilling.  You'd
better  let me put the half-Nelson on him until he becomes  more
amenable and sees reason.'
  'That  might  make  him agree verbally,' De Richleau  replied,
'but  it won't stop him lying to us afterwards, and it is  quite
possible  to  hypnotise people against their will. It  is  often
done  to lunatics in asylums. Get behind him now, hold back  his
head  and  lift his eyelids with your fingers so that he  cannot
close  them. We've got to find out about this place. It  is  our
only hope of geting on to Mocata.'
  Rex  did  as he was bid. The Duke stood before the chair,  his
steel-grey  eyes fastened without a flicker upon  those  of  the
unwilling Satanist.
  Time  passed, and every now and then De Richleau's voice broke
the  silence of the quiet, dimly-lit room. 'You are  tired  now,
you  will  sleep.  I  command you.' But  all  his  efforts  were
unavailing. The Satanist sat there rigid and determined  not  to
succumb.
  The  ormolu clock upon the mantelpiece ticked with  a  steady,
monotonous  note, until Rex was filled with the  mad  desire  to
throw  something  at  it.  The hands  crawled  round  the  white
enamelled  dial; its silvery chime rang out, marking  the  hours
eleven,  twelve, one. Still the Frenchman endured De  Richleau's
steady  gaze. He knew that they were expecting Mocata to  arrive
at  his  apartment. Mocata was immensely powerful.  If  only  he
could  hold  out until then the whole position might  be  saved.
With a fixed determination not to give in, his eyelids held back
by Rex's forefingers, he stared blankly at De Richleau's chin.
  Outside, on the sofa of Cordova leather, Richard and Marie Lou
sat  side  by  side. It seemed to her again  that  she  must  be
dreaming. The whole fantastic business of this flight  to  Paris
and their dinner at the Vert Galant had been utterly unreal.  It
could  not  be real now that Mocata was somewhere in  this  city
preparing to kill her darling Fleur in some ungodly rite,  while
she sat there with Richard in that strange, silent apartment and
the night hours laboured on.
  She  thought that she slept a little, but she was not certain.
Ever since she had fainted in the pentacle and come to with  the
sensation  that she was above Cardinals Folly, floating  in  the
soundless  ether, all her movements had been automatic  and  her
vision of their doings distorted, so that whole sections of time
were  blotted  out  from her mind, and only  these  glimpses  of
strange places and faces seemed to register.
  The  black-coated servant appeared once at the far end of  the
corridor, but seeing them still there, disappeared again.
  Almost  the whole of that long wait Richard sat with his  eyes
glued to the front door, his hand clasped ready on the pistol in
his  pocket,  expecting  the ring that would  announce  Mocata's
arrival.
  He  too felt that somehow this person, grown desperate from an
unbearable  injury  and  lusting with the  desire  to  kill,  re
gardless  of  laws  and  consequences,  could  not  possibly  be
himself.  With every movement that he made he expected  to  wake
and  find  himself safely in bed at Cardinals Foily, with  Marie
Lou  snuggled down close against him and Fleur peacefully asleep
only a few doors away.
  Had  he wholly believed that Fleur had been taken from him and
that  he was never to see her again, he could not possibly  have
endured  those dreary hours of enforced idleness while the  Duke
battled  with Castelnau. He would have been forced to  interrupt
them or at least leave his post to watch their proceedings,  for
his inactivity would have become unbearable.
  In  the  richly  furnished salon, Rex and the  Duke  continued
their long-sustained effort without a second's intermission. The
clock struck two, and as Rex stood behind the Frenchman's chair,
shifting his weight from foot to foot now and then, he seemed at
times to drop off into a sort of half-sleep where he stood.
  At  last,  a  little  after two, he  was  roused  to  a  fresh
attention  by  a sudden sob breaking from the dry  lips  of  the
banker.
  'I  will not let you, I will not,' he cried hysterically,  and
then  began  to struggle violently with the curtain  cords  that
tied him to the chair.
  'You  will,'  De Richleau told him firmly, the pupils  of  his
grey eyes now distended and gleaming with an unnatural light.
  Castelnau suddenly ceased to struggle; a cold sweat broke  out
on  his bony forehead, and his head sagged on his neck, but  Rex
held  it firmly and continued to press back his eyelids so  that
it was impossible for him to escape the Duke's relentless stare.
  He began to sob then, like a child who is being beaten, and at
last  De Richleau knew that he had broken the Frenchman's  will.
In  another ten minutes Rex was able to remove his fingers  from
the  banker's  eyelids for he no longer had the power  to  close
them,  but  sat  there gazing at De Richleau  with  an  imbecile
glare.
  In  a low voice the Duke began to question him and, after  one
last  feeble effort at resistance, it all came out. The  meeting
place was in a cellar below a deserted warehouse on the banks of
the Seme at Ashieres. They secured full directions as to the way
to reach it and how to get into it when they arrived.
  As  Castelnau answered the last question, De Richleau  glanced
at the clock. Three and a quarter hours,' he said with a sigh of
weariness.  'Still, it might well have taken longer  in  a  case
like this.'
  'What'll  we do with him?' Rex motioned towards the  Frenchman
who,  with  his head fallen forward on his chest, was now  sound
asleep.
  'Leave  him  there,' answered the Duke abruptly. The  servants
will find him in the morning, and he's so exhausted that he will
sleep until then. But stuff your handkerchief in his mouth  just
in  case  he  wakes  and tries to make any trouble  for  us.  Be
quick!'
  Castelnau did not even blink an eyelid as Rex gagged him. They
left him there and hurried out to the others.
  'Come on!' cried the Duke.
  'What about Mocata?' Richard asked. 'If we leave here we
  may  miss him.' 'We must chance that.' De Richleau pulled open
the door and
  made for the stairs.
  As  they  dashed  down  the long flights  he  flung  over  his
shoulder:  Tanith may have been wrong. Messages from the  astral
plane  are  often unreliable about time. As it  does  not  exist
there, they have difficulty in judging it. She may have seen him
here  a week hence or in the past even. It's so late now that  I
doubt  if  he  will  turn  up tonight. Anyhow,  we  got  out  of
Castelnau  the place where he's most likely to be-and God  knows
what  he may be doing if he is there. We've got to hurry!'  They
fled after him out of the silent building.
  Round  the corner they managed to pick up a taxi and,  at  the
promise of a big tip, the man got every ounce out of his  engine
as  he whirled the four harassed-looking people away through the
murky  streets up towards the Boulevard de Clichy.  Topping  the
hill,  they descended again towards the Seine, crossed the river
and entered Asnieres.
  In  that  outlying  slum of Paris with its  wharves  and  ware
houses,  narrow, sordid-looking streets and dimly-lit  passages,
there was little movement at that hour of the morning. They paid
off  the  taxi outside a closed cafe which faced upon  a  dirty-
looking  square.  A market wagon rumbled past  with  its  driver
huddled  on the seat above the horses, his cape drawn  close  to
protect  him  from  the damp mist rising  from  the  river.  The
bedraggled  figure of a woman was huddled upon the  steps  of  a
shop  with  Tabac' in faded blue letters above it, but otherwise
there was no sign of life.
  Turning  up  the  collars of their coats and shivering  afresh
from  the  damp  chill of the drifting fog,  they  followed  the
Duke's  lead along an evil-looking street of tumbledown dwelling
houses.  Then,  between two high walls, along a  narrow  passage
where  the  rays  of a solitary lamp, struggling  through  grimy
glass, were barely sufficient to dispel a small circle of  gloom
in  its own area. When they had passed it the rest was darkness,
foul  smells, greasy mud squishing from beneath their feet,  and
wisps of mist curling cold about their faces.
  At  the  end of that long dark alley-way they came out upon  a
deserted  wharf. De Richleau turned to the left and  the  others
followed.  To  one side of them the steep face of a  tall  brick
building,  from which chains and pulleys hung in slack festoons,
towered up into the darkness. On the other, a few feet away, the
river surged, oily, turgid, yellow and horrible as it hurried to
the sea.
  As  if  in  a  fresh phase of their nightmare,  they  stumbled
forward  over  planks,  hawsers and  pieces  of  old  iron,  the
neglected debris of the riverside, until fifty yards farther  on
De Richleau halted.
  'This  is  it,'  he announced, fumbling with a rusty  padlock.
'Castelnau  hadn't  got a key and so we'll have  to  break  this
thing. Hunt around, and see if you can find a piece of iron that
we  can  use as a jemmy. The longer the better. It will give  us
more purchase.'
  They  rummaged round in the semi-darkness, broken  only  by  a
riverside  light  some distance away along  the  wharf  and  the
masthead  lanterns  of a few long barges  anchored  out  on  the
swiftly flowing waters.
  This  do?'  Richard  pulled a rusty lever from  a  winch  and,
grabbing  it from him, the Duke thrust the narrow end  into  the
hoop of the padlock.
  'Now  then,'  he  said, as he gripped the  cold,  moist  iron,
'steady  pressure  isn't any good. It needs a violent  jerk,  so
when  I  say  "go!"  we must all throw our  weight  on  the  bar
together. Ready? Go!'
  They heaved downwards. There was a sudden snap. The tongue  of
the  padlock  had  been wrenched out of the  lock.  De  Richleau
removed  it  from the chain and in another moment they  had  the
tall wooden door open.
  Once  inside, De Richleau struck a match, and while he  shaded
it with his hands the others looked about them. From what little
they  could  see,  the place appeared to be  empty.  They  moved
quickly  forward,  striking more matches as they  went,  in  the
direction where Castelnau had told them they would find a  trap-
door leading to the cellars.
  In  a  far  corner they halted. 'Stand back all of you.'  whis
pered  Rex, and while the Duke held up a light he pulled at  the
second in a row of upright iron girders, apparently built in  to
strengthen the wall. As Castelnau had said in his trance, it was
a  secret lever to operate the trap. The girder came forward and
a  large  square  of flooring lifted noiselessly  on