Dennis Wheatley - The Rape Of Venice

The Venetian stood up and said: 'You will not object, I am sure, to my pinning up the lower end of the Princess Sirisha's sari; otherwise it will trail upon the ground, and might lead you to suggest that with its folds obscuring her feet she is walking on the tips of her toes.'

Consent being given, he went over to his wife, knelt down in front of her and pinned up the white satin just high enough to show her white shod feet. Having warned them that they must be patient as it would take some time for him to concentrate his will to the degree needed to lift her by it, he stepped back a few feet, halted and began to make passes at her.

As in the afternoon, she jerked and rolled her head for some minutes, then stiffened and relaxed. Having put her under he stopped making passes and, with his hands hanging at his sides, stood, a dim bulky figure, staring fixedly at her. It was now that his audience had to exercise their patience. The long minutes dragged by five, ten, fifteen, twenty while they sat straining their eyes in the semi-​darkness; but nothing happened. It began to look as if there was to be no trick after all, but that it was a genuine attempt, and this long sustained effort of concentration must soon exhaust him; so that he would have to give up and confess failure. Yet his breathing was not laboured, and he gave no other sign of fatigue, but continued to stand absolutely motionless.

Suddenly he threw up both his hands, in a lifting gesture.

Her hands were on the arms of the elbow chair in which she was sitting. Although Roger could only see their outline vaguely he got the impression that she levered herself up by them. Slowly she rose and her hands left the arms of the chair. Someone drew in a sharp breath. As her figure straightened it was apparent to them all that she had become much taller than her normal height, then that her feet had left the floor.

Malderini began to back slowly away from her, gesturing with his hands as though to draw her towards him. Slowly she began to advance along the chalk line. As they watched her they held their breath. Her body remained rigid, but her feet moved slightly in a slow regular progression, as though she was taking tiny steps through the air.

She covered more than half the stipulated distance and came opposite Colonel Thursby. At that moment a loud clatter shattered the silence of the room. The Princess threw out her arms and gave a piercing scream. Then pandemonium broke out.

The ebony walking stick the Colonel always carried had a crooked ivory handle. He had reversed it, leant forward, swept its crook along the floor below the Princess' feet and, when it met resistance, jerked it hard towards him. Pitching forwards, she crashed full length on the parquet.

Next second Droopy Ned played his part in this little plot that had been hatched between them after Roger had left the dining-​room. He scratched the top of a pocket tinder-​box with a three-​inch magnesium flare and held it aloft. Instantly the darkness of the room was dissipated and everything in it could be seen with almost blinding clarity.

As the Princess fell, her tight sari had rucked up exposing both her legs to the knees. She was wearing calf-​length white kid boots, and to the inner side of her legs short, cloth-​tipped black stilts were strapped. It was now obvious that Malderini must have adjusted them under her insteps when pinning up her sari and that, had she reached the chair at the far end of her walk, he would have removed her feet from them while unpinning her sari, without anyone being the wiser.

When the fierce light of the flare revealed the scene, Roger found himself staring straight at the Venetian. His face was contorted with insane, diabolical rage. Next moment, howling like an animal, he flung himself at the Colonel. Everyone sprang to their feet, chairs were overturned, the women screamed. The flare went out, plunging the room again in darkness.

There was a short noisy scuffle. Voices were, crying: Lights! Open the door! Lights! Bring lights!'

Droopy Ned ran to the drawing-​room door and wrenched it open. Enough light came through to reveal the scene. Georgina and Clarissa had run forward and were helping the Princess to her feet. Esther Sheridan had flung herself onto her husband's bosom. Beckford had seized Malderini by the coat collar just in time to prevent him assaulting Colonel Thursby. The Colonel, now leaning heavily on his stick, was standing looking at him, a derisive smile on his thin face.

The door had been open only a moment when the Venetian broke free from Beckford's hold and, mouthing curses, again threw himself at the Colonel. Roger was some feet away. In his anxiety to protect the elderly man whom he looked on as a father, he made an awkward jump between them. He was still off balance as Malderini struck out. The blow caught him in. the face. He went over backwards and fell with a crash among the chairs.

By the time he had scrambled to his feet, Beckford had again got hold of Malderini and now held him in a firmer grip. Roger, with one hand to his bruised face, and his blue eyes blazing, snapped out:…

'Damn you, Sir! You shall give me satisfaction for that!'

With Clarissa's help, Georgina had got the Princess up into a chair. Turning from her, she cried, 'Roger, I pray you let this shocking business go no further!'

Ignoring Georgina, he continued to scowl at Malderini. But the Venetian had now begun to sob with frustrated rage and, between his sobs, gasped out to the Colonel:

'That was a brutal thing to do. Oh, you horrible man! The shock might have killed her. And you ruined my illusion. I suppose you expect me to pay. But I won't! I won't! Why should I, when I should have won had it not been for your interference?'

'You will, unless you wish me to have you barred out of every club in London,' replied the Colonel tartly.

'And you will give me satisfaction for that blow,' added Roger, 'unless you prefer to taste my horse-​whip about your shoulders.'

Georgina had come up. Catching him by the elbow she pulled him round to face her and said in a firm voice, 'This matter is deplorable enough already. I'll allow no duel to be fought about it. You'll oblige me, Mr. Brook, by retiring from the room.'

Stepping back, he made her a leg and replied at once, 'Your Ladyship's servant.' But he did not attempt to lower his voice as he said to Droopy a moment later, 'Be good enough, Ned, to act for me and arrange a meeting.' Then he stalked through the door that gave on to the corridor.

Malderini had, meanwhile, staggered back to a chair and collapsed into it. He was now breathing heavily and, after a moment, muttered thickly, 'Send for Pietro… send for Pietro… Tell him.,. tell him to bring my pills.'

Sheridan came forward and said quickly, 'Excitement has brought on one of his attacks. He has them occasionally but they are no matter for grave concern. Pietro is his valet, and gives him massage for them. If we can find Pietro, he'll be as right as rain again in half an hour.'

'Clarissa!' Georgina cried. 'Run please; run to the servants' quarters and fetch Signor Malderini's man.'

Clutching her wide skirts with both hands, and lifting them some inches, Clarissa ran from the room. Beckford had just brought in the Dresden candelabra from the drawing-​room and set it on the chimney piece; so there was now more light to see by. Malderini's pudgy face had gone grey; his eyes were closed and his breath came with a rasping noise. His wife made no attempt to approach him. Apparently she had not been seriously hurt by her fall, as she sat quite silent. But her head was bowed and with one hand she was holding the end of the sari, which she usually wore over the top of her head, across her face, as though too ashamed to meet the gaze of her hostess and her fellow guests.