The Duke’s explanation had been so clear and lucid, his earnestness so compelling that the younger man was at least forced to suspend judgment, and even found himself toying with the idea that Simon might really be threatened by some very dangerous and potent force which it would need all their courage to resist during the dark hours that lay ahead.
It was eight o’clock now. Twilight had fallen and the trees at the bottom of the garden were already merged in shadow. Yet with the coming of darkness they were not filled with any fresh access of fear. It seemed that their long talk had elucidated the position and even strengthened the bond between them. Like men who are about to go into physical battle, they were alert and expectant but a little subdued, and realised that their strongest hope lay in putting their absolute trust in each other.
At Marie Lou’s suggestion they went into the dining-room and sat down to cold supper which had already been laid out Having eaten so lightly during the day, their natural inclination was to make a heavy meal but, without any further caution from De Richleau, they all appreciated now that the situation was sufficiently serious to make restraint imperative. Even Richard denied himself a second helping of his favourite Morecombe Bay shrimps which had arrived that morning.
When they had finished the Duke leant over to him. ‘I think the library would be the best place to conduct my experiments, and I shall require the largest jug you have full of fresh water, some glasses, and it would be best to leave the fruit.’
‘By all means,’ Richard agreed, glancing towards his butler. ‘See to that please, Malinwill you.’ He then went on to give clear and definite instructions that they were not to be disturbed on any pretext until the morning, and concluded with an order that the table should be cleared right away.
With a bland unruffled countenance the man signified his understanding and motioned to his footman to begin clearing the table. So bland in fact was his expression that it would have been difficult for them to visualise him half an hour later in the privacy of the housekeeper’s room declaring with a knowing wink:
‘In my opinion it’s spooks they’re afterthe old chap’s got no television set. And behaving like a lot of heathens with not a drop of drink to their dinner. Think of that with young Simon there who’s so mighty particular about his hock. But spiritualists always is that way. I only hope it doesn’t get ‘em bad or what’s going to happen to the wine bill I’d like to know?’
When Richard had very pointedly wished his henchman ‘good night,’ they moved into the library and De Richleau, who knew the room well, surveyed it with fresh interest.
Comfortable sofas and large armchairs stood about the uneven polished oak of the floor. A pair of globes occupied two angles of the book-lined walls, and a great oval mahogany writing-table of Chippendale design stood before the wide french window. Owing to its sunken position in the old wing of the house the lighting of the room was dim even on a summer’s day. Yet its atmosphere was by no means gloomy. A log fire upon a twelve-inch pile of ashes was kept burning in the wide fireplace all through the year, and at night, when the curtains were drawn and the room lit with the soft radiance of the concealed ceiling lights, which Richard had installed, it was a friendly, restful place well suited for quiet work or idle conversation.
‘We must strip the roomfurniture, curtains, everything!’ said the Duke. ‘And I shall need brooms and a mop to polish the floor.’
The three men then began moving the furniture out into the hall while Marie Lou fetched a selection of implements from the house-maid’s closet.
For a quarter of an hour they worked in silence until nothing remained in the big library except the serried rows of gilt-tooled books.
‘My apologies for even doubting the efficiency of your staff!’ the Duke smiled at Marie Lou. ‘But I would like the room gone over thoroughly, particularly the floor, since evil emanations can fasten on the least trace of dust to assist their materialisation.
Would you see to it, Princess, while I telephone the inn again to find out if Rex has returned.’
‘Of course, Greyeyes, dear,’ said Marie Lou and, with Richard’s and Simon’s help, she set about dusting, sweeping and polishing until, when De Richleau rejoined them, the boards were so scrupulously clean that they could have eaten from them.
‘No news of Rex, worse luck,’ he announced with a frown. ‘And I’ve had to disconnect the telephone now in case a call makes Malin think it necessary to disregard his instructions. We had better go upstairs and change next.’
‘What into?’ Richard inquired.
‘Pyjamas. I hope you .have a good supply. You see none of us tonight must wear any garment which has been even slightly soiled. Human impurities are bound to linger in one’s clothes even if they have only been worn for a few hours, and it is just upon such things that elementals fasten most readily.’
‘Shan’t we be awfully cold ?’ hazarded Simon with an unhappy look.
‘I’ll fit you out with shooting stockings and an overcoat,’ Richard volunteered.
‘Stockings if you like, provided that they are fresh from the washbut no overcoats, dressing-gowns or shoes,’ said the Duke. ‘However, there is no reason why we should not wear a couple of suits apiece of Richard’s underclothes, beneath the pyjamas, to keep us warm. The essential point is that everything must be absolutely clean.’
The whole party then migrated upstairs, the men congregating in Richard’s dressing-room where they ransacked his wardrobe for suitable attire. Marie Lou joined them a little later looking divinely pretty in peach silk pyjamas and silk stockings into the tops of which, above the knee, the bottoms of her pyjamas were neatly tucked.
‘Now for a raid on the linen cupboard,’ said De Richleau. ‘Cushions, being soiled already, are useless to us, but I am dreading that hard floor so we will take down as many sheets as we can carry, clean bath towels and blankets too. Then we shall have some sort of couch to sit on.’
In the library once more, they set down their bundles and De Richleau produced his suitcase, taking from it a piece of chalk, a length of string, and a foot-rule. Marking a spot in the centre of the room, he asked Marie Lou to hold the end of the string to it, measuring off exactly seven feet and then, using her as a pivot, he drew a large circle in chalk upon the floor.
Next, the string was lengthened and an outer circle drawn. Then the most difficult part of the operation began. A five-rayed star had to be made with its points touching the outer circle and its valleys resting upon the inner. But, as the Duke explained, while such a defence can be highly potent if it is constructed with geometrical accuracy, should the angles vary to any marked degree or the distance of the apexes from the central point differ more than a fraction, the pentacle would prove not only useless but even dangerous.
For half an hour they measured and checked with string and rule and marking chalk; but Richard proved useful here, for all his life he had been an expert with maps and plans and was even something of an amateur architect. At last the broad chalk lines were drawn to the Duke’s satisfaction, forming the magical five-pointed star, in which it was his intention that they should remain while darkness lasted.
He then chalked in, with careful spacing round the rim of the inner circle, the powerful excorcism:
In nomina Pa ?tris et Fi ? lii et Spiritus ? Sanecti! ? El Elohym ? Sother ? Emmanuel ? Sabaoth ? Agia ? Tetragammaton ? Agyos ? Otheos ? Ischiros ? and, after reference to an old book which he had brought with him, drew certain curious and ancient symbols in the valleys and the mounts of the microcosmic star.