Dennis Wheatley: The Devil Rides Out

‘Then if you want them, my days are yours,’ she murmured, ‘whatever their number may be.’

There was no trace of fog and a fair, true dawn was breaking when, outside the library windows, De Richleau and Richard found Mocata’s body. It lay on the stone steps which led up to the terrace, sprawling head downwards, in the early light of the May morning.

‘The coroner will find no difficulty in bringing in a verdict,’ the Duke observed after one glance at the face. ‘They’ll say it is heart, of course. It is best not to touch the body, presently we will telephone the police. None of us need say that we have ever seen him before if you tell Malin to keep quiet about his visit yesterday afternoon. You may be certain that his friends will not come forward to mention his acquaintance with Simon or the girl.’

Richard nodded. ‘Yes. “Death of a Man Unknown, from Natural Causes,” will be the only epilogue to this strange story.’

‘Not quite, but this must be between us, Richard. I prefer that the others should not know. Take me to your boiler-house.’

‘The boiler-house — whatever for?’

‘I’ll tell you in a minute.’

‘All right!’ With a puzzled look Richard led the Duke along the terrace, round by the kitchen quarters and into a small building where a furnace gave out a subdued roar.

De Richleau lifted the latch and the door swung back, disclosing the glowing coke within. Then he extended his right fist and slowly opened it.

‘Good God!’ exclaimed Richard. ‘However did you come by that?’

In De Richleau’s palm lay a shrunken, mummified phallus, measuring no more than the length of a little finger, hard, dry, and almost black with age. It was the Talisman of Set, just as they had seen it in their recent dream adorning the brow of the monstrous Goat.

‘I found myself clutching it when I awoke,’ he answered softly.

‘But — but that thing must have come from somewhere!’

‘Perhaps it is a concrete symbol of the evil that we have fought, which has been given over into our hands for destruction.’

As the Duke finished speaking he cast the Talisman into the glowing furnace where they watched until it was utterly consumed.

‘If we were only dreaming how can you possibly explain it?’ Richard insisted.

‘I cannot,’ De Richleau shrugged a little wearily. ‘Even the greatest seekers after Truth have done little more than lift the corner of the veil which hides the vast Unknown, but it is my belief that during the period of our dream journey we have been living in what the moderns call the fourth dimension — divorced from time.’

THE END