Dennis Wheatley - To The Devil A Daughter

To secure the creature without injury to themselves had required all their attention as well as their strength, so it was not until the job was done that either of them noticed another surprise that was in store for them. The top landing was quite small and had only two doors leading from it. From under one of them came a ribbon of light.

They would not have noticed it, had it not been almost dark up there, owing to C. B. having left his torch at the bottom of the stairs. It was faint, but quite unmistakable, as its glow was enough to show the outline of the ape's water trough and a tin tray on which were the remains of his last meal. Their attention was caught by the narrow strip of light almost at the same second, and they looked quickly at one another, wondering what this new mystery could portend.

Why should there be a light in a room at the top of the house in the middle of the night, unless the room was occupied? If it was, even if its occupant had dropped asleep with the light still on, he must have been roused by the noise made by his guardian ape and the struggle with it that had ensued. Why, knowing that intruders were in the house, and on their way up to his well protected sanctum, had he shown no sign of life?

Stretching out a hand, C. B. grasped the door handle firmly and turned it. But the door did not yield to his pressure: it was locked. Not a sound came from beyond it. Except for the faint scuffling of the trussed ape, the house was again utterly silent.

John slipped down the stairs, retrieved the torch and shone it on the door. The light revealed nothing to indicate the use to which the room was put. Apart from the black oak beams in the walls and ceiling, the woodwork of this upper landing was painted cream; but it looked as if a dozen years or more had passed since it had received its last coat. About the bare boards of the floor the ape had scattered some of its food; otherwise the landing was reasonably clean, but the door showed the slight griminess and innumerable small scratches that only time can bring. It seemed reasonable to assume that they led either to box rooms or servants' bedrooms.

For a second it flashed into C.B.’s mind that Christina might have been wrong about the Jutson couple being her father's only servants. Perhaps he had some other private retainer; or had taken someone else on since she had left The Grange, and they had their quarters up here. But that seemed unlikely when there was such a good choice of rooms more conveniently situated at the back of the premises. Again, why should they seek to protect themselves with an oubliette and a ferocious ape? If they had sought refuge up in these remote attics, behind such ugly barriers, of what were they afraid? If they were huddled in terrified silence behind the door, what form of menace could it possibly be that they must be expecting to see come through it at any moment now?

C. B, knocked on the door. There was no reply. Again he rapped, louder this time. Still not a sound came from the room. Putting his shoulder to the door, he threw his weight upon it. The upper part gave slightly but the lock held. Taking a few steps back he ran at the door, lifting his right foot so that it landed flat across the key hole with the full force of the kick behind his heel. There was a sound of tearing wood and the door flew open.

The room was much larger than they had expected, and lofty enough for the crossbeams of its roof to be only vaguely discernible by a dim blue light that radiated from the centre of its floor. It was, in fact, a huge attic which must have occupied the full breadth and nearly half the length of the ,'house. In it there was no furniture, carpet or curtains, and its three dormer windows appeared to have been pasted over with thick brown paper. The low walls were naked; the whole place was as empty as a drum but for a single human figure and a number of strange objects in its immediate vicinity.

Of these, the thing that first sprang to the eye was a great five pointed star. It was formed of long glass tubes, all connected together in the same manner as strip lighting designed to show the name over a shop; and through their whole length glowed electric wires that gave off the cold blue light. Five tall white candles were placed in the points of the star; but these were unlit, so evidently there only against an emergency failure of the electric current. Behind them were placed five bright, brand new horseshoes. In the valleys of the star were five little silver cups half full of water and some bunches of herbs. More faintly seen were two thick circles that had been drawn in chalk on the floor. The inner, which was about seven feet across, connected the valleys of the star; the outer, which was very much bigger, connected its points. Between the two were chalked a number of Cabalistic formula and the signs of the Zodiac.

Unmoving, in the very centre of the star sat a man. He was dressed in striped pyjamas and socks, but appeared to have on several layers of underclothes beneath the pyjamas, as their coat was stretched tightly across his chest. He was short, thick set and looked about fifty. His hair was dark, his face broad, and his square, determined jowl so blue with bristles that it looked as if he had not shaved for a week. He was sitting cross legged upon a thick pile of blankets, his back lightly touching a large tea chest, and he was facing the door.

Neither of his uninvited visitors had the least doubt who he was. C. B. took a step into the room and said, `We must apologise for breaking in on you like this, Mr. Beddows; but our business is extremely urgent.'

The man neither moved nor spoke.

`You are Henry Beddows, aren't you?' C. B. asked. Still the man stared through them as though they were not there.

`Come on!' exclaimed John impatiently. `We've come all the way from the South of France to see you. They told us at your office that you had gone abroad; and when we called here the Jutsons lied to us. Now we've run you to earth in spite of them, for goodness' sake stop pretending to be dumb. Your daughter Ellen is in great danger.'

The man's hands began to tremble and he averted his eyes, but he did not speak.

Together John and C. B. advanced into the room. The latter said, `What my friend has told you is quite true, sir. At the moment your daughter is in prison. We are doing our best ...'

`In prison!' exclaimed the man, coming swiftly to his feet. Then his expression changed from one of surprise to disbelief. Suddenly he stretched out his hand, made the sign of the Cross and cried loudly

'Avaunt thee, Satan!'

John stared at him and muttered, `Good Lord! I believe he's mad.'

C. B. shook his head. `No, he's not mad. And he is Beddows all right. His attitude explains the mystery of all we've found in this house. Somebody is after him and he is scared stiff. That is why he has gone into hiding. The oubliette and the ape were to prevent his enemy paying him a visit in person; but there is something which terrifies him much more that that. He is afraid that some frightful monster from one of the lower astral planes may be sent to get his spirit. That’s why he has made this pentacle. He has locked himself up in what amounts to an astral fortress, and he doesn't believe that we are real people at all. He thinks we are evil entities sent to lure him from safety to destruction.'

Suddenly Beddows gave a defiant laugh, then cried, `And so you are ! Your cunning talk does not deceive me ! Get back to him who sent you

'Don't talk like a fool!' John snapped at him. `Surely you can tell real people when you see them? We're real and we're friends. You're the only person who can give us the truth about this whole awful business; and we've got to have it to help us in our fight to save Christina ... to save Ellen.'

`Liar! And spawn of the Father of Lies! Get back whence you came.'