Dennis Wheatley - The Shadow of Tyburn Tree

"Indeed!" said Roger, stiffly. "In that case pray do not let me detain your Excellency."

Whether the Russian was telling the truth or had just thought up the story, he had no idea; but to leave one's host prematurely for the purpose of getting in first with the ladies, was according to English standards, an abominable piece of rudeness. As Roger bowed again and turned away, he realised to his chagrin that by this skilful move Vorontzoff had secured himself a good hour, in virtually a free field, to develop his pursuit of Georgina. However, there seemed no way in which he could have prevented it, and, angrily consigning all for­eigners to the devil, he went back to the dining-room.

During his short absence the atmosphere had undergone a sudden change and they were now talking politics. In his languid voice Droopy Ned was putting up an extremely able advocacy of Pitt's contention that the East India Company, and not the nation, was liable for the cost of the transport of four additional regiments of troops that had been sent out to India during the war-scare of the previous summer.

The question had recently been fought most bitterly in the House; not so much on its own account but as a fresh battle-ground on which to deploy those divergent views about the reconstruction of the Government of India, which had occupied so much of Parliament's time in the past few years.

With grandiloquent gestures and melodious voice Fox reiterated several of the most telling arguments that he had employed against the Government; but he failed to shake the stooping, short-sighted young nobleman, and at length he said good-humorously: "When may we welcome you to a seat in the House, my Lord? 'Tis the natural habitat of the younger sons of peers, as* witness both Mr. Pitt and myself. Your logic and tenacity would do you credit there."

"I vow you flatter me, Sir." Droopy bowed across the table. "But even were I competent to play such a part, I should be loath to sacrifice the pursuits that already occupy a great part of my time."

"And what may they be?" inquired the Duke, suddenly emerging from his long silence.

"I, er—experiment on myself with rare drugs, and collect antique jewellery."

"Antiques, eh!" the Duke grunted. "Waste of time and money. When I was taken to Rome as a young man my fool of a tutor argued me into buying some marbles. Feller called Wood, I remember. They're still in their packing-cases somewhere. I've never had time to open the damn things, and don't suppose I ever shall."

Droopy raised his quizzing-glass and remarked a trifle acidly: "Among such marbles 'tis a fair bet that there are certain of the Roman gods. Since your Grace has elected to keep them hidden from mortal eyes for some thirty eyes, 'tis clear that you can have little sympathy with my third interest—the study of ancient religions."

"No, none whatever," replied the Duke, with the bluntness of a Dr. Johnson; to whom in fact some people considered that he had a certain resemblance. "Not only are such studies futile, but they may even become dangerous; for all Pagan religions were the invention of the Devil."

Roger had not been taking much interest in the conversation, as his mind was on Vorontzoff and Georgina; and he was wondering if by this time the Russian had managed to separate her from the other two ladies on some pretext, such as showing him her collection of silver toys, in the far drawing-room, so that he could whisper sweet nothings to her at his leisure. But he now came to the rescue of his friend, by saying:

"Surely your Grace would not lump the religion of the Greeks and Romans with the Devil-worship of more primitive peoples?"

"Sir, I would indeed!" came the prompt response. "For the former developed directly from the latter."

"Permit me to disagree," declared Droopy quickly. "And I have spent much time investigating the origins of both."

"If the rituals of Satanism interest you, my Lord, you should con­sult George Selwyn on that subject," Fox cut in with a laugh. "Ask him to tell you how he once raised the Devil."

All eyes were immediately turned on tine benign, bishop-like face of the elderly wit, who said with rueful smile: "It seems that I shall never live down my association with the Hell-Fire Club, although 'tis so long ago. Its heyday was in the late '50s, and in '62, the year that Dashwood both succeeded to his Barony and became Chancellor of the Exchequer, 'twas disbanded. That is before some of you were born, so I pray you let it rest."

"Nay, nay!" cried Colonel Thursby. "Everyone knows that you were a leading member of it, and I've often meant to inquire of you what really went on there. Tell us, I beg?"

Except by the Duke, who had retired once more into his smoke screen, Selwyn was pressed on all sides, so after a moment, he said:

"Since you insist, I'll give you the gist of it. The idea originated with Sir Francis Dashwood one night at White's. My Lord Sandwich, Charles Churchill, Bubb-Dodington, Paul Whitehead, Robert Lloyd and myself, were other moving spirits in the affair. We had all become un peu blasé with the easy favours of society women and the ladies of the Italian Opera, so we were seeking a new outlet for our amorous propensities. Dashwood urged the claims of a masquerade with its dual attraction of dressing-up and the amusement of laying siege to an un­known partner. He proposed that we should form a new order of St. Francis, but differing from the old in that Venus should be the object of our worship; and that the rites and ceremonies to be performed should culminate in a Bacchic orgy.

"For the scene of this frolic, and it started as no more, Dashwood selected the half-ruined Abbey of Medmenham. 'Tis on an island in the Thames 'twixt Marlow and Henley, and is a most lovely spot. Later we took to gathering for a fortnight there each summer. Part of the place was made habitable, the larder and the cellar amply stocked, and a well-known bawd in Southwark brought down a score of well-chosen nymphs. We were all clad as monks, and the women, all heavily veiled, were habited as nuns. When we had dined in the old refectory, we repaired to the ruined church, and later, danced in it. As you can imagine the wine flowed freely, and on many a moonlight night we created merry Hell there."

"Oh, come, George!" protested Droopy Ned, "there must have been more to it than ordinary debauchery if, as Mr. Fox tells us, you suc­ceeded in raising the Devil."

Selwyn looked a trifle sheepish. " 'Tis true that an element crept into those meetings which had no connection with our original intent­ions. Once in our cups the atmosphere of the place and the garments that we wore led us into all sorts of senseless follies. All of us were staunch Protestants, and though I confess it was in bad taste, there were times when we thought it something of a jest to parody the Roman Catholic rituals."

Everyone present guessed that Selwyn was referring to the celebration of the Black Mass, but no one liked to question him about it, and Droopy said: "There is nothing new in that, either. I have oft read accounts of such practices; but 'twould be a genuine novelty to talk with a man who has actually seen His Satanic Majesty. Did he in truth ever appear at your bidding?"

"Not at mine, but at another's."

"You saw him, though?" '

"Yes, once. At least, if not himself 'twas the very image of him." "What looked he like?"

"He was not as tall as myself but with broad shoulders and most powerfully built. He was black and hairy, with a flattened skull and red eyes gleaming from it like live coals."

"Odds blood!" exclaimed the ColoneL "I marvel that you did not all die of fright."

"We near did. My scalp still prickles at the recalling of it. Half our company fled into the night and did not stop running till they reached Marlow. The braver of us remained from a natural impulse to protect the women, the greater part of whom had fainted. But after suffering a few moments of stark terror, our courage was well rewarded."