"Is there no way of ridding it of—"
"Only by defeating the thing which legend says first appeared here as Maccabees Nosta. And which of us, being human, can hope to brave that ordeal?"
I was silent for some time.
"We must remember, Hanson," I said, "that, regarding certain undoubtedly weird happenings in the light of what we know of Devrers, we may have deceived ourselves."
"We may," he agreed. "But we dare not rest until we know that we have"
So together we searched the house for Count de Stano, but failed to meet with him. The storm of the previous night had subsided, and dusk came creeping upon a winter landscape Which spoke only of great peace. The guests began to return, in parties, and presently Earl Ryland arrived, looking very worried.
"Mona's missed her train," he said. "There seems to be a fatality about the thing."
Hanson said nothing at the time, but when Earl had gone upstairs to dress, he turned to me.
"You know Mona Verek, of course?"
"Quite well."
"She justifies all his adoration, Cumberiy. She is the nearest thing to an angel that a human can be. I agree with Earl that there is a fatality in her delay! He is going off again after dinner. You know how dreadfully impulsive he is, and I have always at the back of my brain the idea that we may be deluding ourselves."
It was close to the dinner hour now, and I hurried to my room to dress. The quaint little window, as I already have mentioned, commanded a view of the south wing, and as I stooped to the oaken window seat, groping for the candles, my gaze strayed across the snow-carpeted lawns to where the shurbbery loomed greyly in the growing December dusk.
Two figures passed hurriedly in by the south entrance, Lawrence Bowman and Marie Van Eyck. They would have quick work to dress. I found the candles, then dropped them and stood peering from the window with a horror upon me greater than any I yet had known in that house.
A few paces behind the pair, footsteps were forming in the snow — the footsteps of one invisible, who followed, who came to the southern door and who entered after them. Faint wreaths as of steam floated over the ghostly trail.
"My God!" I whispered. "My God!"
How I dressed. Heaven only knows. I have no recollection of anything until, finding myself at the foot of the great staircase, I said to Knowlson, struggling to make my voice sound normal, "Is the Count de Stano in?"
"I think not, sir. I believe he is leaving this evening. But I have never seen the Count personally, sir."
Looking in at the door of the long apartment which Earl had had converted into a billiard room, I found Bowman adjusting his tie before a small mirror.
"Have you seen the Count?" I asked shortly.
"Yes. He is talking to Marie — to Mrs Van Eyck — in the lounge."
I set off briskly. There was but one door to the old study, now the lounge. I hoped (and feared, I confess) to meet the Count there face to face.
The place was only lighted by the crackling wood fire on the great hearth and Mrs Van Eyck alone stood leaning against the mantelpiece, the red gleam of the fire upon her bare shoulders.
"I had hoped to find the Count here," I said, as she turned to me.
"Surely you passed him? He couldn't have reached farther than the library as you came in."
I shook my head, and for a moment Mrs Van Eyck looked almost afraid.
"Are you sure?" she asked. "I can't understand it. He is leaving almost immediately, too."
Her hands were toying with a curious little ornament suspended by a chain about her neck. She saw me looking at it and held it up for my inspection.
"Isn't it odd?" she laughed rather uneasily. "The Count tells me that it is an ancient Assyrian love charm."
It was a tiny golden calf, and, unaccountably, I knew that I paled as I looked at it.
The gong sounded.
I met Lister Hanson at the door of the banqueting hall. His quest had proved as futile as mine.
We were a very merry dinner party. Again it seemed impossible to credit the idea that malign powers were at work in our midst. Earl Ryland made himself the object of much good-humoured jest by constantly glancing at his watch.
"I know it's rude," he said, "but you don't know how anxious I am about Mona." When at last dinner was over, he left the old people to do the honours and rushed away in his impetuous, schoolboy fashion to the waiting car, and so off to the station.
Hanson touched me on the shoulder.
"To the Count's room first," he whispered.
We slipped away unnoticed and mounted the staircase. On the landing we met Mrs Van Eyck's maid carrying an armful of dresses.
"Are you packing?" rapped Hanson, with a sudden suspicion in his voice.
"Yes, sir," replied the girl. "My lady has had a message and must leave tonight."
"Have you seen the Count de Stano?"
"A tall, dark gentleman, carrying a black stick? He has just gone along the passage, sir."
Hanson stood looking after the maid for a moment.
"I have heard of no messenger," he said, "and Van Eyck is due on Christmas morning."
Along the oak-lined passage and up into the south wing we went. The Count's room was empty. There was no fire in the hearth, but the heat of the place was insupportable, although the window was open.
Something prompted me to glance out. From the edge of the lawn below, across to the frosted shrubbery, extended a track of footprints.
"Look Hansoni" I said and grasped his arm. "Lookl and tell me if I dream!"
A faint vapour was rising from the prints. "Let's get our coats and see where they lead," he said quietly.
It was with an indescribable sense of relief that I quitted the room which the Count de Stano had occupied. We got our coats and prepared to go out. With a suddenness which was appalling, the wind rose and, breaking in upon the frozen calm of the evening, shrieked about Devrers Hall with all the fury of a high gale. With it came snow.
Through that raging blizzard, we fought our way around the angle of the house, leaving the company preparing for the dance in the banqueting hall.
Not a track was to be seen, and the snow was falling in swirling clouds.
We performed a complete circuit of the hall, and in the huge yard we found lamps and lanterns burning. Lawrence Bowman's man was preparing his car for the road; he was driving Mrs Van Eyck to the station, the man said. But both Hanson and I quickly noted that young Bowman's luggage was strapped in place.
Retracing our steps, we saw two snow-covered figures ahead of us, a woman in a dull-red cloak and a man in a big motor coat. They passed on to the terrace, and into the light streaming from the open doors. Eary Ryland had returned. His big Panhard stood at the steps.
"My God! Look!" gasped Hanson, and dragged me back.
I knew what to expect, yet at sight of it my heart stood still.
Steaming footprints appeared, hard upon those of Mrs Van Eyck and Bowman. They pursued a super-natural course on the terrace steps, stopped, and passed away around the north angle of the hall.
"May Heaven protect all here tonight!" prayed the clergyman fervently. "Follow, follow, Cumberlyl At all costs we must follow!" he continued hoarsely.
Which of us trembled the more violently, I do not know. Passing the cheery light of the open doors, we traced the devilish tracks before us. The wind had dropped as suddenly as it had arisen, but snow still fell lightly. Then, from the angle of the great house, we saw a sight which robbed us of what little courage we retained.
Glaring in at the window of the room known as the lantern room, with the light of a great log fire and many candles playing fully upon its malignant face, crouched a red robed figure. A demon of the Dark Ages it seemed, that clutched and mewed and muttered as it glared. It crouched lower, and lower, then drew back and held its arms before its awful face, thrusting away from it that which approached the window from within. It turned and fled with a shriek unlike anything human or animal, and was gone, leaving behind it steaming footprints in the snow.