Абрахам Меррит - Seven Footprints To Satan

"My elimination, I suppose," I replied, carelessly. "But why waste time justifying one of your murders, Satan? By this time, I should think, murder would be second nature to you, no more to be explained than why you eat when you are hungry."

His eyes flickered.

"You deliberately invited Cobham's confidences, and you would have attempted to prevent the sinking of the Astarte, knowing that I had decreed it," he said.

"Right," I agreed.

"And you lied to me," he repeated. "To me!"

"One good lie deserves another, Satan," I answered. "You began the lying. If you had come clean with me, I'd have told you not to trust me with that job. You didn't. I suspected you hadn't. Very well, the man who lies to me in one thing will lie in another."

I shot a swift glance at Consardine. His face was as indifferent as ever, imperturbable as Satan's own.

"The minute Cobham let the cat out of the bag, I lost all faith in you," I went on. "For all I know, your assassins on the Cherub might have had their orders to do away with me after I had pulled your chestnuts. As I once heard another of your dupes say- blame yourself, Satan. Not me."

Consardine was watching me intently. I was feeling pretty reckless by now.

"Father of Lies," I said, "or to give you another of your ancient titles, Prince of Liars, the whole matter can be summed up in two short sentences. You can't trust me, and I know too much. All right. For both of those conditions you have only yourself to thank. But I also know you. And if you think I'm going to beg you for any mercy- you don't know me."

"Consardine," he said, tranquilly, "James Kirkham had such good material in him. He could have been so useful to me. It's a pity, Consardine. Yes, it is a pity!"

He regarded me benevolently.

"Although, frankly, I do not see how the knowledge can profit you," he said, "I feel that you should know the error that betrayed you. Yes, I wish to help you, James Kirkham," the great voice purred, "for it may be that there is a land to which we go when this mortal coil is cut. If so, it is probably much like this. You may even find me or my counterpart there. You will not care to repeat your mistakes."

I listened to this sinister jesting silently; after all, I was curious.

"Your first error was your reference to the bridge game. I noted the surprise it caused Cobham. You were too precipitate. You could just as well have waited your time. Remember, then, if you should reach that next world, never to be precipitate.

"Obviously, you had a reason. Equally obviously, it was my cue to discover that reason. Lesson two- in that world to which you may shortly be traveling, be careful to give to your opponent no cue to eavesdrop.

"When I re-entered, you ingenuously forbore to notice Cobham's very apparent consternation. You studiously kept your eyes from him during the ensuing conversation. That was too naive, James Kirkham. It showed you underestimated the intelligence you were seeking to convince. Your proper move was complete and instant indignation. You should have sacrificed Cobham by accusing him to me. In that bright new world in which you may or may not soon find yourself, never underestimate your opponent.

"But I gave you still another chance. Knowing Cobham, I knew that after my careful- ah- treatment- his mind would fasten upon you as a refuge, his only refuge. He was given the treatment, he saw you, and then he was allowed to escape. He came, as I thought he would, straight to you. If, at the moment he entered your rooms, you had caught him, sounded the alarm, again- sacrificed him, perhaps I would still have believed in you. It was weakness, sentimentality. What was Cobham to you? Remember, then, in your new sphere, to eschew all sentimentality."

Out of that cynical harangue two facts apparently shone clear. Satan did not know that I had gone out of my rooms, nor that I had encountered Cobham outside them. I took some comfort from that. But- had Cobham been caught? Would he tell?

"By the way, how is Cobham?" I asked, politely.

"Not so well, not so well, poor fellow," said Satan, "yet he was able to give me an enjoyable afternoon. At present he is lying in the darkness of a crypt near the laboratory, resting. Shortly he will be given an opportunity to leave it. During his carefully guided wanderings thereafter, he will have the chance to snatch a little food and drink. I do not wish him to wear himself out in his efforts to amuse me. Or, to put it another way, it is not my intention to allow him to die of exhaustion or famine. No, no, the excellent Cobham will provide me with many merry hours still. I shall not send him back to my little mirrors. They have drawn his fangs. But at the last I will inform him of your interest, since, I am quite sure, you will be unable."

He arose.

"James Kirkham," said Satan, "in half an hour you shall be judged. Be ready at that time to appear in the Temple. Come, Consardine."

My hope that he would leave Consardine with me went crumbling. Desperately I wanted to talk to him. He followed Satan out. The wall closed behind him. He had not even turned his head.

I remembered Cartright. Consardine had brought him in, stood beside him before he had begun the ordeal of the Steps. Probably he would return for me.

But he did not. When the half hour had elapsed four of the kehjt drinkers came for me. Two in front of me, two behind me, they marched me through long corridors and up steep ramps of stone. They halted. I heard the sound of a gong. A panel opened. The slaves would have pushed me in, but I struck aside their hands and stepped through. The panel closed.

I stood within the Temple.

I was within the semidarkness beyond the ring of brilliant light beating down upon the steps. I heard a murmuring. It came from my left where the amphitheater circled. I caught movement there, glimpses of white faces. The seats seemed full. I thought I heard Eve's voice, whispering, vibrant-

"Jim!"

I could not see her.

I looked toward the dais. It was as it had been when I had watched Cartright stumble up toward it. The golden throne gleamed. On it glittered the jeweled scepter and crown.

Upon the black throne sat Satan.

Squatting beside him, fiend's face agrin, twirling his cord of woman's hair, was Sanchal, the executioner.

Again the gong sounded.

"James Kirkham! Approach for judgment!" Satan's voice rolled out.

I walked forward. I paused at the foot of the steps, within the circle of light. The seven glimmering prints of the child's foot stared at me out of the black stone.

Guarding them, seven upon each side, stood the white-robed slaves of the kehjt. Their eyes were fixed upon me.

The thoughts went racing through my brain. Should I cry out the secret of the black throne to those who sat silent, watching me from the circled seats of stone? I knew that before I uttered a dozen words the cords of the kehjt slaves would be strangling me. Could I make one swift dash up the steps and grapple with Satan? They would have me before I had reached halfway.

One thing I might do. Take the steps leisurely. Make my fourth and final one the sixth of the shining prints. Their arrangement was irregular. The sixth was not far from the black throne. Closer than the seventh. I could leap from it upon Satan. Sink fingers and teeth into his throat. Once I had gripped I did not believe it would be easy for any to tear me away, were I alive or dead.

But Barker? Barker might have his plan. It would not be like the little man to lurk hidden, and supinely let me pass. And Consardine? But did Consardine know?

And Eve!

The thoughts jostled. I could not think clearly. I held fast to my last idea, fixing my gaze upon Satan's throat just below the ear. There was where I would sink my teeth.

But was I to be allowed to take the steps?