The Devil Rides Out

He drew her arm protectively through his and led her out through the back door into the pleasant garden which boasted two large, gay archery targets, a pastime that Jeremiah Wilkes had seen fit to institute for the amusement of the local gentry, deriving considerable profit therefrom when they bet each other numerous rounds of drinks upon their prowess with the six-foot bow.

A deep border of dark wallflowers sent out their heady scent at the farther end of the lawn and beyond them the garden opened on to a natural wooded glade. A small stream marked the boundary of Mr. Wilkes’s domain and when they reached it, Rex passed his arm round Tanith’s body, lifted her before she could protest, and with one spring of his long legs cleared the brook. She did not struggle from his grasp, but looked up at him curiously as she lay placid in his arms.

‘You must be very strong,’ she said. ‘Most men can lift a woman, but it can’t be easy to jump a five-foot brook with one.’

‘I’m strong enough,’ he smiled into her face, not attempting to put her down. ‘Strong enough for both of us. You needn’t worry.’ Then, still carrying her in his arms, he walked on into the depths of the wood until the fresh, green beech trees hid them from the windows of the inn.

‘You will get awfully tired,’ she said lazily. ‘Not me,’ he declared, shaking his head. ‘You may be tall, but you’re only a featherweight. I could carry you a mile if I wanted, and it wouldn’t hurt me any.’

‘You needn’t,’ she smiled up at him. ‘You can put me down now and we’ll sit under the trees. It’s lovely here. You were quite right—much nicer than the inn.’

He laid her down very gently on a sloping bank, but instead of rising, knelt above her with one arm still about her shoulders and looked down into her eyes. ‘You love me,’ he said suddenly. ‘Don’t you?’

‘Yes,’ she confessed with troubled shadows brooding in her golden eyes. ‘I do. But you mustn’t love me, Rex. You know what I told you yesterday. I’m going to die. I’m going to die soon—before the year is out.’

‘You’re not,’ he said, almost fiercely. ‘We’ll break this devil Mocata—De Richleau will, I’m certain.’

‘But, my dear, it’s nothing to do with him,’ she protested sadly. ‘It’s just Fate, and you haven’t known me long, so it’s not too late yet for you to keep a hold on yourself. You mustn’t love me, because if you do, it will only make you terribly unhappy when I die.

‘You’re not going to die,’ he repeated, and then he laughed suddenly, boyishly, all his mercurial nature rising to dispel such gloomy thoughts. ‘If we both die tomorrow,’ he said suddenly, ‘we’ve still got today, and I love you, Tanith. That’s all there is to it.’

Her arms crept up about his neck and with sudden strength she kissed him on his mouth.

He grabbed her then, his lips seeking hers again and again, while he muttered little phrases of endearment, pouring out all the agony of anxiety that he had felt for her during the past night and the long run from Amesbury in the morning. She clung to him, laughing a little hysterically although she was not far from tears. This strange new happiness was overwhelming to her, flooding her whole being now with a desperate desire to live; to put behind her those nightmare dreams from which she had woken shuddering in the past months at visions of herself torn and bleeding, the victim of some horrible railway accident, or trapped upon the top storey of a blazing building with no alternative but to leap into the street below. For a moment it almost seemed to her that no real foundation existed for the dread which had haunted her since childhood. She was young, healthy and full of life. Why should she not enjoy to the full all the normal pleasures of life with this strong, merry-eyed man who had come so suddenly into her existence.

Again and again he assured her that all those thoughts of fatality being certain to overtake her were absurd. He told her that once she was out of Europe she would see things differently; the menace of the old superstition-ridden countries would drop away and that, in his lovely old home in the southern states, they would be able to laugh at Fate together.

Tanith did not really believe him. Her habit of mind had grown so strongly upon her; but she could not bring herself to argue against his happy auguries, or spoil those moments of glorious delight as they both confessed their passion for each other.

As he held her in his arms a marvellous langour began to steal through all her limbs. ‘Rex,’ she said softly. ‘I’m utterly done in with this on top of all the rest. I haven’t slept for nearly thirty-six hours. I ought not to now, but I’ll never be able to stay awake tonight unless I do. No harm can come to me while you’re with me, can it?’

‘No,’ he said huskily. ‘Neither man nor devil shall harm you while I’m around. You poor sweet, you must be just about at the end of your tether. Go to sleep now—just as you are.’

With a little sigh she turned over, nestling her fair head into the crook of his arm, where he sat with his back propped up against a tree-trunk. In another moment she was sound asleep.

The afternoon drew into evening. Rex’s arms and legs were cold and stiff, but he would not move for fear of waking her. A new anxiety began to trouble him. Mocata had not appeared, and what would they think had become of him at Cardinals Folly? Marie Lou knew he had gone to the inn, and they would probably have rung up by now. But, like a fool, he had neglected to leave any message for them.

The shadows fell, but still there was no sign of Mocata, and the imps of doubt once more began to fill Rex’s mind with horrible speculations as to the truth of Tanith’s story. Had she consciously or unconsciously lured him from Simon’s side on purpose ? Simon would be safe enough with Richard and Marie Lou, and De Richleau had promised to rejoin them before dusk—but perhaps Mocata was plotting some evil to prevent the Duke’s return. If that were so—Rex shivered slightly at the thought—Richard knew nothing of those mysterious protective barriers with which it would be so necessary to surround Simon in the coming night —and he, who at least knew what had been done the night before—would be absent. By his desertion of his post poor Simon might fall an easy prey to the malefic influence of the Satanist.

He thought more than once of rousing Tanith, but she looked so peaceful, so happy, so lovely there, breathing gently and resting in his strong arms with all her limbs relaxed that he could not bring himself to do it. The shadows lengthened, night drew on, and at last darkness fell with Tanith still sleeping. The night of the ordeal had come and they were alone in the forest.

CHAPTER XXIV

THE SCEPTICISM OF RICHARD EATON

At a quarter to six, De Richleau arrived back at Cardinals Folly and Richard, meeting him in the hall, told him of Mocata’s visit.

‘I am not altogether surprised,’ the Duke admitted sombrely. ‘He must be pretty desperate to come here in daylight on the chance of seeing Simon, but of course, he is working against time—now. Did he threaten to return?’

‘Yes.’ Richard launched into full particulars of the Satanist’s attempt on Marie Lou and the conversation that had followed. As he talked he studied De Richleau’s face, struck by his anxious harassed expression. Never before had he thought of the Duke as old, but now for the first time it was brought home to him that De Richleau must be nearly double his own age. And this evening he showed it. He seemed somehow to have shrunk in stature, but perhaps that was because he was standing with bent shoulders as though some invisible load was borne upon them. Richard was so impressed by that tired, lined face that he found himself ending quite seriously: ‘Do you really think he can work some devilry tonight?’