Death by the Mistletoe (24 page)

*

As time wore on James fell into a kind of hazy stupor, and once or twice he had to exercise a great effort of will to maintain himself-in an upright position and so prevent his arms from being cruelly twisted.

The hum of voices still continued in the living-quarters in the cave, and presently what seemed to be a crowd of men began to approach him. They were going in the direction of Lagnaha, and apparently they were carrying heavy objects, for their pace was slow and steady. There was a blaze of torches, and James was able to make out the leading figures in the group.

Eight men altogether passed him, split up into companies of four, the members of each section carrying between them a heavy box. O’Hare and his gigantic companion — whom James afterwards came to know as Barlow — were in front, carrying one box with the assistance of a bandy-legged little man and Muldoon. James was surprised to see the latter, for it was many hours later that he came to learn of that wizened-faced individual’s adventures during the week-end. The first two members of the following group of four were unknown to the editor of the
Gazette
, while the pair who brought up the rear were hidden in the darkness behind the glare of the torches. The smell of some kind of acid reached James’s nostrils as they passed.

They were talking in low voices.

“What do you make the voltage?” asked Muldoon of his companion, who must have been one of the electrical engineers.

It was that question which decided James on the contents of the boxes.

“A thousand volts … Same as last time.”

James shivered. Two hundred and fifty volts were sufficient to ensure the death of a human being, though from ten thousand to twenty thousand volts were, he knew, employed in official American electrocutions. The two boxes must contain charged batteries, each one hoarding enough power to slay a man.

“Plenty!” returned Muldoon, laconically.

So they were preparing for the Festival already. To what lonely glen in Blaan were the batteries to be conveyed?

During what James afterwards realised must have been the forenoon and part of the afternoon of Wednesday the cave was quiet. Only two of the eight men who had passed him, carrying the batteries, returned to the inner cave. There was more cooking, and then again deep silence.

The darkness was intense, and numberless small animals — James thought they were rats — began to scuttle about his feet. The draught among his hair was cold and clammy, chilling him to the marrow of his bones. The pain in his arms, legs and side continually throbbed, and he felt that if he were left to stand there much longer he must sag forward and faint. He was hungry, but at the same time he imagined that he must have contracted some kind of fever, for his head was hot and he suffered greatly from thirst.

Strange thoughts and fancies whirled through his mind, to the accompaniment of the sound of the running rivulets. Once he thought he saw Eileen coming towards him, dressed in a white tennis frock. He wanted to shout with laughter when she disappeared in a mist before his eyes. On another occasion he had a vision of the white-robed priest approaching him with upraised hands, and mouthing inaudible curses. And towards the end of the first part of his imprisonment he had the mad idea that Nicholson and he, “the fair, sleek-headed churchman” and “the wanderer with the head of flame,” were riding, riding, on two white horses to smite O’Hare and his companions.

It was late on Wednesday afternoon when he jerked his mind back to realities. A small procession of men was approaching him from the Lagnaha direction. By the light of half a dozen torches he saw the thing which sent a lax feeling of despair throughout his tautened frame.

To the other five rings beside him the “well-meaning ones” secured Major Dallas, Professor Campbell, Detective-Inspector McKay, Detective Sergeant Wilson and the Rev. Duncan Nicholson.

CHAPTER XIV

Like James, his five fellow-prisoners were bound only at the wrists; but their arms were attached similarly to the iron rings behind them, so that any quick movement would cause them pain. At first Major Dallas alone seemed to be aware that James stood alongside.

One of the electricians was left to guard the captives. He had brought a low stool with him, and, after snapping on a dim electric bulb above the heads of his charges, he sat smoking Woodbine cigarettes and toying with a revolver. He took little notice of James and his companions. When they began to speak in low voices he made no objection. Their discussions, he imagined, could not now harm
Na
Daoine
Deadh
Ghinn
.

James, no longer alone in the clammy darkness, threw off to some degree at least the semi-stupor which had possessed him; but he still felt cold and slightly feverish. He saw that the others’ garments, with the exception of those worn by Professor Campbell, were in a badly dishevelled condition, and he came to the obvious conclusion that they had put up a stiff resistance before submitting to capture. Their expressions were disappointed and dejected.

Major Dallas’s thin face was deadly pale in the shadowy light, and the waxed ends of his little moustache had a pathetic droop. His usually smooth flaxen hair fell forward in two ragged curves on either side of his high forehead. But his mouth was still set in a short straight line. The two plain-clothes policemen stared gloomily ahead, and the eyes of both were filled with hopeless hatred. McKay’s lean, dark face was streaked with blood from a cut above his left eye, and his hodden-grey jacket was split from neck to tail. One leg of his trousers was ripped at the knee. Wilson was in a scarcely better condition. His short, stocky form seemed to be bowed down with shame at his capture. His waistcoat was torn, and James learned later that while he stood motionless, tied to the ring, he suffered agonies from a sprained left arm. The Rev. Duncan Nicholson’s fair head was no longer sleek, and his usually stout and ruddy countenance seemed pale and strained. There were lines at the corners of his mouth which James had not noticed before; but the editor of the
Gazette
perceived again the cruel light in his eyes which had frightened Eileen. This time, however, there was an added bitterness …

Professor Campbell had apparently been taken straight from bed, for he wore only a long dressing gown over a suit of pyjamas, and his bare feet were shod in carpet-slippers. His glance roamed aimlessly, and he stood, his mouth drooping, as if he were trying hard to understand the meaning of events. And there, in that childish brain, was hidden the secret of “The Glen of Adoration,” the secret which his friends had striven in vain to discover.

“I thought you would be here,” said Major Dallas to James. They stood shoulder to shoulder. “How did they get you?”

James explained, hiding nothing. But the Chief Constable did not blame him for his momentary weakness. Instead, he praised him for his presence of mind in giving no hint to
Na
Daoine
Deadh
Ghinn
of the police preparations in other districts.

“What is the time now?” James asked, when he had finished.

“After seven o’clock — Wednesday evening. They will be holding the Festival in Blaan in just a little over five hours.”

“Is there any hope?”

“None that I can see.”

“What about the — the tinker?” James did not refer to Merriman by name, for he realised that the electrician might overhear and become suspicious.

“Haven’t seen him since Monday. What can he do? He’s all alone. And after all, his job is to locate GII — not to prevent the Blaan Festival from taking place.”

“Can’t the police do anything?”

“They don’t know where we are … Let me tell you what has happened, MacPherson. The ‘well-meaning ones,’ must have discovered that McKay and I were on the track of the secret entrance to the cave, and that Wilson was investigating the source of the letter which Allan had received. McKay and I suspected Lagnaha for the first time to-day, when we discovered the large amount of stores which were being used by the household. Ellis, however, had been doing the job of ordering with some cunning, spreading his purchases over a great many shops in Campbeltown. Only when we had compiled and compared lists of weekly orders from almost every establishment in the town did we arrive at our conclusions. Wilson, working at the question of the typewritten note, chanced on an answer this afternoon, when the three of us decided to visit Lagnaha, ostensibly on a friendly call. And the unfortunate thing is that we were in such a hurry to get to grips with the enemy that we did not think of warning McMillan and MacLean of our intention. We were all armed, you see, and confident of our ability to bluff Ellis into a false sense of security. If our suspicions were verified we intended returning to the town and mobilising the whole police force for an immediate raid on the house. But the laird was too wily for us. He must have known the purpose of our visit at once. We were shown into that sunless room — you must know it — by the deaf housekeeper. I saw Wilson open a typewritten letter that lay on the table ready for posting, and I saw the light of triumph in his eye. And then Mr. Ellis himself came in. Wilson pocketed the letter, and we spoke casually of the Allan case for some moments. We had our backs to the bookcase, and they were on us — about seven or eight of them — before we could draw our guns. They tied us up, and some time afterwards the Professor and Nicholson were brought in.”

“I was in Dalbeg at the time,” muttered Nicholson. “O’Hare, Muldoon and the other three men came. They overpowered the police outside and rushed us. I was quite unprepared, curse them!”

“It is clear, then,” said James, “that they mean to hold the Festival, and then leave quietly for another part of the country.”

As he spoke a sudden dreadful suspicion rose up like a spectre in his mind.

“Nicholson!” he cried. “What of Eileen?”

The young minister did not answer. It was quiet and still in the cave.

“Nicholson!” shouted James, his voice echoing to the vaulted roof. “Tell me!”

“She’s all right.” Nicholson’s tone was low and strained.

“You’re lying! You’re lying, damn you! Tell me! Tell me, or, by God, I’ll kill you!”

“Be quiet, you fool!”

“Tell me! Oh, for pity’s sake, tell me, Nicholson!” There was no reply. James strained at the ropes on his wrists heedless of the pain which he caused himself. Their guard glanced at him curiously, but without much interest.

“Nicholson! Tell me! I love her! I love her; do you hear? I must know!”

A cackle of laughter came from Nicholson’s throat. “I know you love her. To hell with Eileen and you! I loved her, too, and I’ve lost her … You can imagine, if you like, what’s going to happen to her.”

“Good lord, Nicholson!” exclaimed Detective-Inspector McKay. “You’re an utter fool. Can’t you see we are all beyond petty things like jealousy now?”

For long no one spoke. James’s mind veered towards madness. What in heaven’s name had happened to Eileen? Was this to be the end of all things? There was a droning and throbbing at his temples. He began to imagine that the dynamo was again running.

“Professor!” He tried to speak more rationally. “What have they done with Eileen?”

But Professor Campbell, his round face pale and pasty, allowed his head to loll forward.

“I cannot tell, sir! I cannot tell! She was with Nicholson when they came.”

“Can none of you speak?” cried James.

“I will speak,” replied the Rev. Duncan Nicholson. He was about to embark upon the most difficult task of his life, and it said much for his courage that he was able to accomplish it. At the time James did not fully realise the effort it must have cost him.

“I beg your pardon, MacPherson,” he said in a pitiful voice. ‘‘I have been fiendishly jealous of you … about Eileen. Last week was torture to me, though I did my utmost to hide it. I thought she loved me, until you came. Then I knew that I was beaten, and I hated you! I could not bear to be with you in Glasgow that day — to see you look love at each other. So I went to my father’s place. But everything is at an end now, and I cannot be jealous … What I am going to tell you will hurt like hell, MacPherson. You love her. I understand perfectly how you will feel. But you want to know, and since you love each other I suppose you have a right to know.”

His tone was bleak and chill, like an east wind, and even in the midst of his mental agony James felt a pang of sorrow for the young minister.

“Eileen,” said Nicholson, “has been captured by the ‘well-meaning ones.’ She was taken to Lagnaha with us — by car: your car, MacPherson — and when the rest of us were taken into the perfumed room she was led upstairs by O’Hare. She is to be their sacrifice to-night in ‘The Glen of Adoration.’ Muldoon told me, with a grin on his monkey face.”

James did not speak at once. But at last he raised his head, and his eyes gazed into the blackness of the roof of the cave.

“Almighty God!” he whispered. “She believes in your word. Save her, dear God! Save her! She is pure and sweet. Let your light shine down, and let this dreadful evil be shattered and undone.”

He continued to whisper incoherent snatches of prayer, and Major Dallas thought that the strain had finally taken toll of his sanity. The Chief Constable, was overwhelmed with a great pity.

*

Dragging, the hours passed. It must have been about nine oʼclock when they heard the Thing coming in the distance.

James’s head had been hanging on his breast; but now he raised it slowly as he became aware of the rustling and the squealing. The others heard it, too, with the exception of Professor Campbell. The old man seemed to be sunk in a day-dream, not having understood, apparently, Nicholsonʼs reference to his daughter. The little guard turned his head and looked fearfully towards the opening of the Bengullion cave. It was along this passage that the Thing was coming.

“Heaven’s mercy!” whispered Major Dallas. “What is it?”

Nearer came the rustling and chirruping. Mingled with it was a queer hissing, as if a wave of the sea were sweeping along the gravelled floor of the cave. The Rev. Duncan Nicholson stared wildly at the black mouth of the branch tunnel. The two C.I.D. men were taut and strained. James saw their guard rise from his stool and stand with cocked pistol, waiting.

The rustling and hissing grew in volume. The Professor had heard it now, and he began to speak.

“What — what is coming, gentlemen?” he cried. “What is it? Where am I? What are we doing here? We were at dinner at Dalbeg … I cannot understand. What is coming? What is that dreadful noise in the tunnel?”

The dim electric bulb above their heads was throwing a small circle of light into the entrance to the Bengullion cave. They watched this point with distended, terrified eyes. The Thing was almost upon them …

With a rush the first company of rats had crossed the patch of light and were approaching them — marching, marching, thousands and thousands of rats. Myriads of small feet stirred the gravel, making it hiss like a wave of the sea. Myriads of little brown bodies rubbed against one another, and the chirruping, squealing and rustling was a ghastly volume of sound in the confined space. Myriads of little eyes gleamed and blinked in the sudden light.

The Professor screamed.

“Keep still!” commanded McKay. “A migration of rats. The drought in Campbeltown. I’ve seen them in the very streets of Glasgow in dry weather.”

Professor Campbell was silent. The advancing horde was now only about a dozen yards from their little guard.

“Flat against the wall!” shouted McKay. “Try not to move a muscle! If we keep quiet they will take no notice of us. But if we strike out … ”

The brown bodies swirled and swarmed about their feet. James closed his eyes and waited. The electrician stood among the little animals, as if he were ankle-deep in the midst of a peaty pool. For long, like his captives, he exercised iron control, trying to disregard the nips and scratches on his legs.

And then it happened.

With a scream the little man kicked. His revolver spat into the furry mass. Savagely he kicked. Savagely he sent shot after shot into the flat, closely packed horde. First one rat leaped, and then another …

After an eternity the migrating rats had passed on. The little electrician was stretched on the gravel, unconscious and breathing jerkily. A score of inanimate; crushed bodies lay around him. Everything was quiet again.

“They will be back,” said McKay. “Both the Kiel and the Mull entrances are blocked. But the food in the inner cave will stop them for a time.”

“There must be a connection between the Campbeltown sewers and the Bengullion cave.” Major Dallas spoke in a clipped, rigid manner. “But when the rats return they will make for Lagnaha.”

“If we could only free our wrists now!” exclaimed Nicholson. “While the little fellow is unconscious.” James tugged and strained, as did the others, with the exception of Wilson, whose arm was injured. But though they suffered torture in the effort it was useless. The sweat began to stand out on James’s white forehead in great drops.

“Let me do it!” he muttered. “Oh, let me do it! Let me loosen this rope!”