Strange Conflict (22 page)

‘Ha!' Sir Pellinore guffawed. ‘That's good. Yes, you're right there, Duke; I see your point.'

‘Well, that's what happens on the astral. There's not one of us who hasn't dabbled in Black Magic at some time or other during our many lives, and at one time I could do as neat a job of sorcery as most people myself; but the majority of us give it up after being hauled up and cautioned, while the hardened cases go on for maybe a dozen lives or more, until they're caught out and sentenced to a really long spell. If that's not enough they get an even heavier sentence next time they're caught; and, of course, each prison sentence sets them back on the upward journey which we all have to accomplish sooner or later whether we like it or not.'

‘How d'you mean?'

‘Simply that if a spirit is cast into prison for having taken the Left-Hand Path it is automatically debarred from any chance of reincarnation during the term of its imprisonment. Prison sentences are much longer on the astral than they are on Earth, so a bad Black might easily get a thousand years. That would set him back three or four lives and the long intervening periods in which we are not in incarnation; and as he has to live those lives some time before he can possibly pass on to a higher sphere all that lost time later proves a heavy handicap. However, as you've got to get back to London we mustn't wander too far from the matter in hand. I take it that you can arrange passages to Haiti for us?'

‘Certainly,' said Sir Pellinore quickly. ‘I'll have you flown over to Lisbon and will see that seats are reserved for you on the
Clipper
to New York. It would be better
for you to fly from New York to Miami and hire a plane there to take you on to your destination. Money, of course, is no object, but speed is of the first importance.'

‘Situation's still pretty bad, then,' hazarded Simon.

‘Bad!' echoed Sir Pellinore, lifting his blue eyes heavenwards. ‘My God, if you only knew! The Intelligence people are going grey with worry over it, and even the “silent” service has been forced to admit that it's at its wits' end. Up to the moment the P.M. has been most sympathetic with the difficulties of all concerned, but I can see the point coming when
his
patience will be exhausted; and when that happens I'd rather have to face Hitler.'

‘Our losses in tonnage were considerably down last week, though,' Richard remarked.

‘Yes; thanks to brilliant handling of their ships by our seamen—plus, apparently, the fact that de Richleau put a spoke in the Nazis' wheel and enabled one convoy to get through without being attacked. However, the menace is still there. Britain entered the war with twenty-one million tons of shipping, but that is dispersed all over the world, and since September we've lost hundreds of thousands of tons every month in Atlantic waters. We can't go on that way. It's not only the ships—it's hundreds of fine seamen who can't be replaced—the very salt of our island race— many of them young men who've not lived long enough yet to beget sons and so pass on the blood that for centuries has given England the mastery of the seas and of the narrow waters. Then there's the cargoes; loss of exports means loss in dollars, and, more important still, it's temporarily halved our imports in such vital commodities as food, tommy-guns and the planes from America which we're counting upon to enable us to beat the Germans in 1941.'

‘Well, you can rely upon us to do our damn'dest,' said the Duke soberly.

‘I know. But I cannot too heavily stress the absolutely vital issues which are at stake. All our splendid naval successes in the Mediterranean, and the magnificent work in the Libyan Desert by which the Army has regained the confidence of the nation, will go for nothing unless this mass destruction of our shipping can be checked. The Western Approaches have now become the focal point of the whole war, and as the spring advances Hitler will unquestionably
intensify his attacks. I don't pretend to understand what you're up to, but you seem to have got a line on this thing and you're the only people in Britain who have, so I beg of you not to spare yourselves. If you're victorious we shall never be able to tell the public how the Nazi counter-blockade was broken, but you yourselves will have the satisfaction of knowing that you five have gained as great a triumph for Britain as any military commander, with the whole of our new Armies, could do in the field.'

Simon tittered into his hand. That ranks us as equal to about ten divisions apiece; pretty good going, eh?'

‘I mean it,' insisted Sir Pellinore. ‘Now, when can you start?'

‘I think I can say for all of us that we're ready to leave as soon as you can complete arrangements for our journey,' said the Duke, looking round at the others, who all nodded silent agreement.

‘Good. That will be the day after tomorrow, then. The
Clipper
leaves Lisbon on Friday, and there's no sense in your kicking your heels there for twenty-four hours which you could doubtless better employ here.'

‘Would you be able to get us places at such short notice?' Rex asked. ‘I gather the
Clipper's
pretty crowded these days.'

Sir Pellinore waved the question aside with one of his large hands. ‘Your countrymen are in this thing with us now, Van Ryn, praise be to God. I have only to ask one of the officials of the War Cabinet to get on to the American Embassy and—whoever has to be turned off—they'll see to it for us that you have places on the plane.'

Shortly afterwards, having earnestly wished them God's blessing on their strange mission, Sir Pellinore left for London. The Duke then told the others that he intended to set about purging the house of the poltergeists.

Marie Lou remonstrated with him because she wanted him to lie down again and rest his injured foot, but he pointed out to her that as there would be quite a number of things to do in London before setting out on their journey they would have to leave Cardinals Folly very early the following morning, and he was anxious that the house should be made habitable so that the servants could return to it before they left.

Seeing the sense of that she gave way but asked him a question that had been puzzling her for some days.

‘Why is it that, while
we
can't make ourselves either felt or heard when we're out of our bodies, a poltergeist can perform all sorts of physical acts?'

‘It's because they are not individuals, but elementals,' he replied. They differ from living spirits in the same way as a poisonous jelly-fish differs from a human being. Both these low forms are unpleasant and malignant but they are blind and lack all intelligence. Both can make themselves felt in a way that we cannot, but can easily be destroyed by us.'

They spent the next two hours accompanying the Duke as he moved from room to room with bell and book and water sprinkler. In each room he remained standing and read an exorcism, while they stood on either side of him murmuring the responses to his prompting. He then sprinkled the four corners of the room, the doorway and the hearth, while reciting certain powerful abjurations which from time immemorial have been known to drive away evil spirits.

In room after room as each ceremony was completed there was temporarily a disgusting stench until they had flung wide the windows and let in the cold winter air. At one place in the west wing the horrible smell of rotting meat was so bad that Marie Lou was on the point of vomiting, until de Richleau told her that if she were in her astral she would laugh to see the fun. The poltergeists were little like round balloons about the size of footballs, and each time the holy water hit one it burst, disintegrating in a puff of astral smoke which gave off the beastly smell of the earthly filth from the essence of which it derived its strength.

That night they again slept in the pentacle, taking turns to watch, while the astrals of those who slept never left it. In consequence they passed an untroubled night and beyond the library door silence reigned all through the dark hours, showing that the purification of the house which had been carried out that afternoon had proved entirely successful.

They were up very early the following morning. As soon as they had dressed they packed their bags, and while
Marie Lou did Richard's packing he had a talk with Malin, giving the butler a number of post-dated cheques with which to run the house while its master and mistress were absent. Malin also undertook to reassure such members of the staff as were willing to return that they would not be troubled by any further curious happenings. At nine o'clock he deferentially shook hands with them all and wished them good luck as they got into Richard's car and set off for London.

All five of them spent a busy day. At the Duke's request, Simon telephoned to Sir Pellinore and arranged for the issue of a special treasury-permit enabling them to transfer ample funds to a bank in Port-au-Prince, the capital of Haiti. Marie Lou did a hectic afternoon's shopping, acquiring the sort of lovely, light, clothes for tropical sunshine which she had never hoped to wear again until the war was over. Rex reported to Air Force Headquarters and ascertained that his indefinite extension of leave was all in order. De Richleau purchased an additional supply of rare herbs from Culpeper House while Richard, the ever-practical, saw that the armaments of the whole party were in proper order. They all possessed automatics from their past adventures, with permits to retain them, but none of the weapons had been used for several years and for two of the guns he had to obtain a new supply of ammunition.

At cocktail-time they met at the Duke's flat, as it had been decided that after rendezvousing there for drinks they would dine at the Dorchester and make a holiday of this their last night for none of them knew how long in dear, bomb-torn London.

They had just satisfied themselves that all their arrangements had been completed, and were about to move off for the Dorchester, when the telephone bell rang. De Richleau picked up the receiver and Sir Pellinore's deep voice boomed along the line.

‘That you, de Richleau? Listen, I've got a favour to ask of you.'

‘Certainly. What is it?' replied the Duke.

‘There's a young woman—daughter of a man I know— her name's Philippa Ricardi—he's very anxious to get her out of England and he has an estate in Jamaica—grows sugar or something of the kind, and the place is run for him
by his sister. He's already made arrangements to send the girl there by the
Clipper
leaving on Friday, so her permits and passport are all in order. She's travelling alone, though, and I was wondering if Mrs. Eaton would be good enough to chaperone her as far as Miami. It would be a great kindness if she would.'

‘Hold on one moment.' De Richleau turned and repeated the request to Marie Lou.

‘Of course I will,' she said at once, and the Duke told Sir Pellinore that it would be quite all right.

‘Splendid,' boomed the Baronet. ‘Please convey my most grateful thanks to Mrs. Eaton. Miss Ricardi will meet you at Waterloo tomorrow morning. Oh, by the by, I forgot to tell you, and I can't stay to explain further, because I'm wanted on another line, but the poor girl's a mute—you know, deaf-and-dumb.'

It was still half dark when they drove through London the following morning. A gentle drizzle was falling and the chill half-light disclosed a scene which could hardly have been more depressing. Only about a third of London's pre-war traffic was now on the streets. Hardly one out of every hundred houses that they passed had actually been destroyed by a bomb but many appeared to have been shut and abandoned by their owners and in the vicinity of each wrecked house a dozen others near it had patched or boarded windows as a result of the explosion. Yet London was carrying on with grim determination, as could be seen from the little crowds of men and girls getting off buses and coming out of tube-stations on their way to work.

At Waterloo they were conducted to a Pullman which had been reserved for passengers travelling on the Lisbon plane, and among the little group of people on the platform they at once picked out Philippa Ricardi. The only other woman there was an elderly lady, so they felt certain that the girl standing a little apart, with a tall, grey-haired man, must be their charge. As they approached the man stepped forward and raised his hat to Marie Lou.

‘I'm sure you must be Mrs. Eaton,' he said, and as she smiled he went on: ‘It's most kind of you to take charge of my daughter. As she's unable to talk it would be terribly difficult for her to make the journey alone, and we're both awfully grateful to you.'

‘
Please,
' Marie Lou protested, ‘I'm delighted to think we
shall be able to make things easier for her.' She turned quickly to the girl and held out her hand.

There was nothing at all about Philippa to indicate her terrible affliction. She was of medium height, with black hair which curled under a smart little hat, and she was dressed in neat, expensive travelling tweeds. Her eyes were large, dark and intelligent, her mouth full-lipped and generous. Her skin, which was particularly good, had a warm, faintly dusky hue and was the only thing about her which betrayed the fact that she had a dash of black blood in her veins. She looked about twenty-three but might have been younger, and if they had not known of her connections with Jamaica they would hardly have suspected her lineage.

It is not the easiest of situations to find oneself suddenly confronted with a deaf-mute but Marie Lou had already made up her mind that the best policy was to ignore the poor girl's affliction as far as possible, so she proceeded to introduce the others just as though Philippa could hear what she was saying, and the girl bowed to each of them in turn.

Shortly afterwards an official asked them to take their places so Philippa took an affectionate leave of her father and they all got into the train. Two minutes later the whistle blew and it slowly steamed out of the station.