The Satanist (10 page)

She was ready for him when he called for her in a taxi, and, as he expected, was dressed in a cocktail frock. At the sight of her his pulses quickened slightly, for she struck him as even better looking than as he had seen her in his thoughts during the past two days. Nevertheless, their evening together did not run with anything like the smoothness that he had hoped.

The reason for that was not far to seek. Ostensibly they were a well-matched young couple out for the sole purpose of enjoying one another’s company; but actually each of them was deliberately deceiving the other, and finding it necessary to lie about nearly every question that cropped up.

Both, in preparation for the meeting, had thought out a false past and present for themselves. Barney had decided to take the role of the late Lord Larne’s eldest son, who had been killed with his father in the aeroplane crash. He said that he had spent most of his life in Kenya and was over in England only on a long visit to go into the possibilities of opening a new Travel Agency, with London tie-ups, in Nairobi.

Mary, one of whose fairly regular and more pleasant sources of income during her black year in Dublin had been a Customs Officer, now gave her late husband that role; adding, as an explanation of her name, that he had been quite a lot older than herself, come to England with the Free French and, after the war, taken British nationality. She said that he had died two years earlier as a result of a heavy crate, not properly secured to a crane, falling upon
him; and, lest her faint suggestion of an Irish accent should stir old memories in Barney’s mind, she told him that she was ‘Liverpool’ Irish and had been brought up in that city.

Her occupation she gave as a free-lance model, and in that there was a substratum of truth. She had picked up the rudiments of such work from her mother, who had eked out her earnings as an actress in that way, and had herself a few times earned a small fee for showing dresses in one of Dublin’s less expensive shops; so, during the past fortnight, she had taken it up again to supplement her pension and, now that she was older and had more poise, the agent she had gone to had already found no difficulty in getting her several bookings.

But on both sides the past was a subject giving constant rise to unexpected questions calling for swiftly thought up lies by way of answer; so neither of them could be natural and at ease. Moreover the ostensible reason for their meeting – to talk of the occult – failed to bridge the gap because she knew little more about it than he did. In consequence, finding her decidedly reluctant to say much about herself, he was reduced during the latter part of dinner to giving her accounts of the doings of the Mau-Mau, while praying that she had not read the book upon which he was drawing for experiences as though they were his own.

However, when they took the floor, matters improved somewhat, for he was a naturally good dancer and she had been a professional. They spoke little but each found in the other an excellent partner and thoroughly enjoyed the smooth rhythm. While they danced the best part of two hours sped swiftly by, and by then the fact that they were both playing a part had slipped to the back of their minds. Feeling now that he could open up on a matter that concerned her personally with less chance of her resenting it, a little before midnight Barney ordered more coffee and liqueurs then asked her:

‘How well do you know that Indian chap who was at the meeting?’

‘Mr. Ratnadatta?’ Her voice was casual. ‘Oh, he’s just
one of several acquaintances I’ve made at Mrs. Wardeel’s although, as a matter of fact, I’ve learnt more from talking to him after the meetings than at them. But why do you ask?’

‘Well…’ Barney hesitated a second. ‘I suppose I ought not to have listened to your conversation with him; but I couldn’t help overhearing him offer to take you to some much more advanced occult circle, of which he is a member.’

‘He didn’t. He only said he would consider doing so after he had had another talk with me.’

‘Yes. I gathered that. But he asked you to have dinner with him on Saturday, didn’t he? And it’s unlikely that he would have done that unless he had pretty well made up his mind already that you were a suitable candidate.’

She smiled. ‘I hope he does. He implies that Mrs. Wardeel’s parties are only kindergarten stuff, and I’m sure he knows what he is talking about. It would be terribly exciting to belong to a group possessing real power.’

Barney gave her an uneasy glance. Now that he had spent an evening at close quarters with the beautiful ‘Margot’ he was beginning to feel an interest in her that had nothing to do with his job; and as he thought it highly probable that Ratnadatta’s circle practised Black Magic, he did not at all like the idea of her getting herself mixed up with that kind of crowd. On the other hand, he did want her to lead him to it. How to handle this dilemma worried him considerably; but, after a moment’s thought, he decided that, even if it meant prolonging his investigation, he ought to try to head her off, so he said:

‘I don’t know much about the occult, but one thing about it is clear. There are only two ways of obtaining power by supernatural means. One is by leading the life of a Saint; the other is by becoming a disciple of the Devil. Like you, I’m talking of real power now; and you may be right in believing that this chap Ratnadatta can lead you to it. If so, maybe he’s a saint, but I’d lay a packet that he and his pals turn out to be Black Magicians.’

Mary was also of that opinion, but she did not admit it. Instead she said, ‘Not necessarily. They may be advanced practitioners of Yoga.’

‘Yes; I suppose that’s a possibility. Still, the idea of your letting him become your, er – guide, philosopher and friend, worries me,’

‘That’s nice of you.’ Her voice held only a suspicion of sarcasm.

‘I mean,’ he persisted, ‘that you might get yourself involved in something pretty unpleasant if you keep this date with him on Saturday.’

‘I am not in the habit of breaking dates, once I’ve made them. Anyway, he is only giving me dinner.’

‘You never know. He might suggest taking you on to this circle of his afterwards.’

‘I hope he does. I’m full of curiosity about it.’

‘Look Margot,’ he said, using for the first time the Christian name by which he knew her, and hedging slightly in an attempt to get in on the game now she had made it clear that she could not be persuaded to drop it. ‘I’m curious about it too. You may be right about its being a Yoga party, and if so it could be the real path to developing one’s higher faculties. Anyhow, I mean to cultivate old Ratnadatta until I can persuade him that I am also a suitable candidate to be let in on his mysteries. But that will take time; so, just in case it is a Satanist set-up, if he does offer you a chance to join his circle, I wish you would stall for a while. Then, if I can get on the right side of him after another couple of meetings at Mrs. Wardeel’s, we could fix it so that I go with you on your setting sail into these unknown waters.’

Mary felt a little secret thrill of satisfaction. During the first part of the evening the false personality she had had to build up had made her feel so awkward with him that she knew that she was far from making herself a charming and interesting companion. She had even begun to fear that her plan to ensnare and pay out this plausible roué who had brought such misery upon her was about to become
still-born, and that he would never ask her out again. But now, here he was already showing deep concern for her, and anxious to become her protector in case she ran into danger. All the same, she had no intention of delaying for a single day if she was given the opportunity to follow up this possible lead to Teddy’s murder. And if Barney was left to wonder what was happening to her on Saturday night, so much the better. That was just the sort of thing to make him all the keener.

She shook her head. ‘No, I’m afraid I can’t do that. If I once turned down an offer from Ratnadatta he might not ask me again. But I assure you I’m perfectly capable of taking care of myself. And now, I think I ought to be getting home.’

‘O.K. then! With a light-hearted shrug he appeared to dismiss the matter, but after a moment he added, ‘I haven’t enjoyed dancing so much with anyone for a long time. If your friend the Fakir hasn’t turned you into a pretty white nannygoat, what about having dinner with me here again on Sunday?’

Mary smiled back at him. ‘I enjoyed it too, and I’d like to do that. You’ll have to take the risk, though, that by then I’ll have acquired the power to turn you into a horrid black toad.’

‘I’m awfully flattered that you should feel like that about me!’

She gave him a puzzled look. ‘Unless you’re being sarcastic, I don’t quite see what you mean.’

His eyes suddenly danced with devilment, and his teeth flashed in a grin. ‘Surely you know that a witch has to take her familiar to live with her?’

The waiter brought the bill at that moment; so Barney did not see her flush, as she thought angrily, ‘He hasn’t changed a bit. How like him to seize the first chance to throw out that sort of suggestion under cover of a joke.’ And it was that angry thought which was largely responsible for precipitating her into a stupid action very soon afterwards.

Ten minutes later, as their taxi moved off, Barney, with
the assurance of a man who is rarely repulsed by women, put an arm round her shoulders. She let him, and predicted to herself what his next move would be-he would begin at once to tell her how beautiful she was, then when they came opposite the Ritz he would attempt to kiss her and, if she allowed him to, by the time they reached Hyde Park Corner he would put his free hand on her knee.

In her first two assumptions she proved right, but as he drew her towards him she swiftly jerked her head away, and snapped, ‘Stop that! How dare you treat me as if I were a tart!’

Next moment she could have bitten her tongue out. It was an absurd thing to have said, simply because he had tried to kiss her, and she had been impelled to say it only because she was already visualising in her mind the sort of thing she expected him to attempt later, if she let him.

Sitting back quickly, he exclaimed: ‘What on earth are you talking about? Treat you like a tart! I’ve done nothing of the kind.’

‘Yes you have.’ She took refuge in angry contradiction. ‘To try to make love to a woman who has given you not the least encouragement, and whom you hardly know, the very first moment you are alone with her, is as good as telling her to her face that you think she’s the sort who can be had for the price of a dinner.’

‘Nonsense!’ said Barney, firmly. ‘Men don’t kiss tarts in taxis. They wait till they get back to their flats, do what there is to do, give them a few quid, and, nine times out of ten, go home and forget all about them. Whereas I want to see you again. You know I do; and I wouldn’t be such a fool as to spoil my chances of our becoming really good friends.’

Her mind fixed on his words ‘and forget all about them’. They acted like a can of petrol poured on the fires of her Irish temper and, ignoring the rest of what he had said, she stormed at him:

‘So that’s how you treat girls who are reduced to giving themselves for money, is it? And what about afterwards?
Say you’ve put the wretched girl in the family way. I suppose that’s no concern of your Lordship?’

‘Really, Margot!’ he protested. ‘I can’t think what’s got into you. A tart is a tart, and is doing a job of work like any other, even if at times it is not a very pleasant one. It is up to her to learn how to take care herself. If she doesn’t bother and gets caught, you can’t hold the man responsible.’

‘As he did it, he is.’

‘I don’t agree. If a chap is having an affair with a decent girl that, of course, is different. It is up to him to see that nothing goes wrong, and should they have the bad luck to have an accident, obviously it’s his responsibility to get her out of trouble. Listen, I’ll give you a parallel. When I was younger and lived in … out in Kenya, I often used to ride for other people in steeplechases. Say an owner had a really fractious horse and asked me as a favour to ride him, if the brute had thrown me and I’d broken a leg I’d have had the right to expect the owner to cough up my doctor’s fees and hospital expenses. But if he had paid me for the job, and I’d taken the risk for money, it wouldn’t even have occurred to me to ask the owner to foot the bill. In the same way, with tarts, getting in the family way is simply an occupational risk; that’s all there is to it.’

‘But supposing the girl is young and ignorant?’

He shrugged. ‘If she’s been paid I don’t see that that makes much difference. These girls always have older friends to whom they can go for advice, or know of some old woman who’ll do the necessary. But what beats me is why you should have become so het-up about all this.’

Mary saw the red light. She had already been dangerously near to stating her own case. If she pursued the subject further it might easily ring a bell in his mind and cause him to recognise her. Then goodbye to all hope of getting her own back on him. With an effort she pulled herself together and said in a calmer voice. ‘You are quite right. It is only that I’m sorry for girls who have to earn their living that way and, as a woman, resent the fact that men’s lust should force them to it.’

‘Oh come! I admit that prostitution could not exist if there were not the demand that keeps it going. But the majority of these girls are just lazy sluts who prefer to lie late in bed in the morning, deck themselves out in clothes they could not otherwise afford, then spend most of their time drinking or dancing in bars and clubs, rather than do an honest day’s work.’

‘Perhaps that is so; but there must be exceptions.’

‘No doubt there are. But what has that got to do with the fact that I tried to kiss you? In the most respectable circles, from their ‘teens on, when boys and girls like each other they kiss without any thought of going to bed together afterwards. I can only suppose that you’ve got some awful Freudian complex that turns you into an icicle at the touch of a man.’

‘It’s not that,’ she said with an effort. ‘I’m quite normal. I enjoy being kissed by a man I like. But… well… I do need a chance to make up my mind if I like him enough first.’