Still the picture of a benign erudite prelate of another
age, Copely Syle was smiling as he said, `I see that you are interested in my pets?'
In spite of his age and silver hair, C. B. itched to pound his smooth face into a jelly; but he stuffed his hands deep into his trousers pockets, and twisted his lips into a semblance of a grin, as the Canon went on blandly
`They are indispensable to my work. Ample quantities of gland secretions are an essential in the production of homunculi. It is regrettable that I should have had to make do with animals, and it is that, of course, which accounts for the ill proportioned lumpishness of my creations. Had I had human beings at my disposal I could have produced men and women fair of face and shapely in form. But the day will come. Oh yes, the day will come when having seen my prototype the people for whom it has been designed will readily supply me with more suitable materials.'
Carefully controlling his voice, C. B. said, `I take it you refer to the people in the Kremlin?'
The Canon nodded. `Who else? For is it not into their hands that the Lord Satan has placed the greatest power to serve him? I have no doubt whatever that they will be most interested when I submit my masterpiece to them.'
For a moment he stood there, his pale eyes glowing with a fanatic light. Then they dimmed a little and he said with a swift change of manner, `But now that I have shown you my great secret we have no more to do here for the moment. It is still pouring with rain, and I do not know what arrangements you have made. If you prefer not to face the elements, I should be happy to offer you a bed here for the night.'
`Thank you.' C. B. shook his head. `It is very kind of you, but I arranged to pick up a taxi in the village, and I've booked a room at the Red Lion in Colchester. I think I had better go back there, as I must catch the first train up to London in the morning.'
`Just as you wish.' Copely Syle turned and took a few paces towards the door; then he halted in his tracks and exclaimed, `Ah ! There is one thing I nearly forgot. Since we are to work together, and you are to do that which there is to do on my behalf down at Nice to morrow night, it is only fitting that before you depart we should pledge one another in the cup of Brotherhood.'
C. B. was most reluctant to participate in any such rite, quite apart from the fact that he expected it to entail his having to swallow at least a few sips of some horrid brew; but he saw no way in which he could evade the proposal without arousing belated suspicion in his host's mind; so, comforting himself with the thought that within a few minutes now he would be out of this den of iniquity, he
agreed with tactful promptness.
Leading the way to the altar, the Canon took the gold chalice from it : then he went to a cabinet nearby, produced a wicker covered bottle and poured about a wineglassful of its contents into the chalice. Returning to the altar he genuflected three times before the crucified bat, elevated the chalice, and in a sonorous voice chanted a few sentences of Abracadabra in what C. B. took to be Hebrew. Putting the chalice to his lips, he tilted back his head, held it so for a moment, lowered it, and wiped the moisture from his mouth with the back of his free hand; then, with a courtly bow, he handed the vessel to C. B.
Having bowed in reply, C. B. lifted it in turn and took a small sip. To his surprise it was no Devil's potion distilled from frogs' testicles and newts' tails, but a rich wine highly flavored with aromatic spices; so he took a small mouthful before lowering the chalice.
As Copely Syle stretched out a hand for the vessel he saw that a good part of the wine remained in it. His eyes seemed to flash with suspicion, and he exclaimed angrily
`You, a Magister Templi, should know better than to leave unconsumed wine that has been offered as a sacrament.'
To cover his blunder C. B. replied swiftly, `I had not intended to leave any. I was taking my time to savour this beautiful concoction.' Then he lifted the vessel again and emptied it.
As he lowered the chalice the second time the Canon began to laugh. It was not a pleasant genial laugh, but a gloating chuckle that rose to a high pitched malicious titter.
Suddenly C. B. was filled with a terrible fear. That evil mirth confirmed an impression of which he had become conscious only a moment earlier. As the liquid he had drunk coursed through his veins he could feel his limbs becoming paralyzed. With extraordinary swiftness his body assumed an intolerable weight. Turning, he took a few faltering steps in the direction of the door; but he knew that he could never reach it. His knees sagged and the Canon gave him a sudden push. Losing his balance, he slumped into a carved ebony elbow chair that stood to one side of the altar steps. That contemptuous push destroyed his last desperate hope that he might be the victim only of some natural seizure. He had been tricked into drinking a powerful drug, and was now at the mercy of the most unscrupulous Satanist he had ever encountered.
16
Dead Men Tell No Tales
The Canon's pale face, no longer a benign mask, but displaying unconcealed the evil in his soul, leered down into C.B.’s. His thick lower lip jutted out aggressively and from between his blackened teeth he spat the words
`You fool! You miserable fool! You would have done better to walk naked into a den of lions than to come here. That you managed to deceive me for an hour shows that you know enough to have some idea of the risk you ran. How could you hope to pit yourself against me an Ipsissimus? In a day or less it was certain that I should have found you out and caught up with you.'
C.B.’s sight, hearing and the faculties of his mind remained unimpaired, but all his limbs had become limp and useless. Concentrating his will, he strove desperately to struggle to his feet. The attempt was futile and resulted only in a slight stiffening of his spine. He could do no more than wriggle feebly where he sat, and by the greatest effort raise one hand a few inches. While he squirmed there helplessly, the Canon went on
`When I left you just now it was because an authentic messenger sent by de Grasse had just arrived from France. From my description of you he identified you at once as Mrs. Fountain's friend who arrived from London yesterday. I know you now, Colonel Verney, for what you are. And you may be sure that I do not mean to allow you to carry away with you the secrets you have learned to night.'
`You damn' well let me go or ... or it'll be the worse for you,' muttered C. B. thickly.
`There is no way in which you can harm me.'
`Not at the moment, perhaps. But ... my friends know that I came here. If ... if I don't rejoin them they will soon be asking you some ... very awkward questions.'
`They will ask none that I shall not be able to answer to their satisfaction. I have already decided how to deal with this situation, and what I shall tell them. You called here at a quarter past nine and left again at about eleven o'clock. In view of the wildness of the weather we decided that you should take the short cut through my garden to the village. My servant will say that he let you out of the back door and described the way you should go. At the bottom of the orchard there is a little gate. Beyond it lies the railway line. The last train from London passes at about eleven five. To morrow morning when your dead body ...'
`My body!' gasped C. B. `You can't mean ...'
`To murder you?' the Canon finished for him. `Yes: why not? But no one will suspect me of having done so. As I was about to say when your mangled body is found it will be assumed that you tripped in the dark, fell, and stunned yourself when crossing the rails.'
C.B.’s mind was still perfectly clear; but he was having great difficulty in keeping his chin from falling forward on his chest, and his tongue felt swollen and clumsy. He had not often been really frightened in his life, but he was frightened now. Jerking back his head, he forced out the words