The Devil Rides Out (44 page)

Actually his appearance was no more than a mask with which long habit had accustomed him to disguise his emotions, and at heart he was racked by an anxiety equal to that of any of the others. He was suppressing his impatience to get hold of Castelnau only by a supreme effort; his feet itched to be on the move, and his fingers to be on the throat of the adversary; but as he came into the room he smiled round at them, kissed Marie Lou's hand with his usual gallantry, and presented a huge bunch of white violets to her.

‘A few flowers, Princess, for your room.'

Marie Lou took them without a word; the tears brimming in her eyes spoke her thanks that he should have thought of such a thing at such a time, and his perfect naturalness served to steady them all a little as they went down afterwards in the lift. Rex changed some money at the
caisse,
and they went out into the night again.

‘Strange–isn't it,' remarked Richard as he looked out of the taxi window at the fog-bound streets. ‘I've always said what fun it is to make a surprise visit for a couple of nights to Paris–in May. It's like stealing in on summer in advance tea in the open at Armenonville, a drive to Fontainebleau, with the forest at its very best–and all that. ‘I never thought I might come to Paris one May like this.'

‘I've a feeling there's something wrong about it–or us,' said Rex slowly. ‘Those servants in the hotel back there didn't seem any more natural than the weather to me. It was as though I was watching them act in some kind of play.'

De Richleau nodded. ‘Yes, I felt the same, and I believe Mocata is responsible. Perhaps he surrounded Cardinals Folly with a strong atmospheric force, and we have brought the vibrations of it with us, or he may be interfering with our auras in some way. I'm only guessing, of course, and can't possibly explain it.'

At the Vert Galant, De Richleau ordered dinner without reference to any of them. He was a great gourmet, and knew from past experience the dishes that pleased them best, but as a meal it was one of the most dismal failures which it had ever been his misfortune to witness.

He knew and they knew that his apparent preoccupation with food and wine was nothing but a bluff; an attempt to smother their anxiety and occupy their thoughts until the time to go to Castelnau's apartment should arrive. The cooking was excellent, the service everything that one could desire, and the cellar of Le Vert Galant provided wines to which even De Richleau's critical taste gave full approval, but their hearts were not in the business.

They toyed with the Lobster Cardinal, sent away the Pauillac Lamb untasted, and drank the wines as a beverage to steady their nerves rather than with the consideration and pleasure which they deserved.

The fat
maître d'hôtel
supervised the service of each course himself, and it passed his understanding how these three men and the beautiful little lady
could show so little appreciation. With hands clasped upon a large stomach, he stood before the Duke and murmured his distress that the dishes they had ordered should not appear to please them, but the Duke waved him away, even summoning up a little smile to assure him that it was no fault of the restaurant and only their unfortunate lack of appetite.

Throughout the meal De Richleau talked unceasingly. He was a born raconteur, and ordinarily, with his charm and wit, could hold any audience enthralled. Tonight, despite his own anxiety, he made a supreme attempt to lift the burden from the shoulders of his friends by exploiting every venue of memory and conversation, but never in his life had his efforts met with such a cold reception. In vain he attempted to divert their thoughts, laughing a little to himself, as he reached the denouement in each of his stories, and hoping against hope that he might raise a smile in those three anxious faces that faced him across the table.

For Marie Lou the meal was just another phase of that horrible nightmare through which she had been passing since the early hours of the morning. Mechanically, she sampled the dishes which were put before her, but each one seemed to taste the same, and after a few mouthfuls she laid down her fork, submitting miserably to the frantic, gnawing thoughts which pervaded her whole being.

Richard said nothing, ate little, and drank heavily. He was in that state when he knew quite well that it was impossible for him to drink too much. Great happiness or great distress has that effect upon certain men, and he was one of them. Every other minute he glanced at the clock on the wall, as it slowly registered the passage of time until they could set forth once more on their attempt to save his daughter.

There was still half an hour to go when the fruit and brandy were placed upon the table, and then at last De Richleau surrendered.

‘I've been talking utter nonsense all through dinner,' he confessed gravely; ‘only to keep my thoughts off this wretched business, you understand. But now the time has come when we can speak of it again with some advantage. What do you intend to do, Rex, when you see this man?'

Marie Lou lifted her eyes from the untasted grapes which lay upon her plate. ‘You've been splendid, Greyeyes, dear. I haven't been listening to you really, but a sentence here and there has been just enough to take my mind off a picture of the worst that may happen, which keeps on haunting me.'

He smiled across at her gratefully. ‘I'm glad of that. It's the least that I could try to do. But come now, Rex, let's hear your plan.'

‘I've hardly got one,' Rex confessed, shrugging his great shoulders. ‘We know he'll see me, and that's as far as I have figured it out. I presume it'll boil down to my jumping on him after a pretty short discussion and threatening to gouge out his eyeballs with my hands unless he's prepared to come clean with everything he knows about Mocata.'

De Richleau shook his head. ‘That is roughly the idea, of course, but there are certain to be servants in the flat, and we must arrange it that you have a free field for your party.'

‘Can't you take us along with you?' Richard suggested. ‘Say that we're privately interested in this deal you're putting up. If only the three of us can get inside that flat, God help anybody who tries to stop us forcing him to talk.'

‘Sure,' Rex agreed. ‘I see no sort of objection to that. We can park Marie
Lou at the Ritz again, on our way, before we beat this fellow up.'

‘No!' Marie Lou gave a sudden dogged shake of her head. ‘I am coming with you. I'm quite capable of taking care of myself, and I will keep out of the way if there is any trouble. You cannot ask me to go back to the hotel and sit there on my own while you are trying to obtain news of Fleur. I should go mad and fling myself out of the window. I've got to come, so please don't argue about it.'

Richard took her hand and caressed it softly. ‘Of course you shall, my sweet. It would be better, perhaps, for you not to be with us when we see Castelnau, but there's no reason why you shouldn't wait for us in his hall.'

De Richleau nodded. ‘Yes, in the circumstances it is impossible to leave Marie Lou behind, but about these servants–did you bring that gun that you had last night with you?'

‘Yes, I brought it through the Customs in my hip pocket, and it's fully loaded.'

‘Right. Then if necessary you can use it to intimidate the servants while Rex and I tackle Castelnau. It is a quarter to. Shall we go?'

Rex sent for the bill and paid it, leaving a liberal tip which soothed the dignity of the injured
maître d'hôtel,
then they filed out of the restaurant.

‘Maison Rambouillet, Parc Monceau,' De Richleau told the driver sharply as they climbed into the taxi, and not a word was spoken until the cab drew up before a palatial block of modern flats, facing on to the little green park where the children of the rich in Paris take their morning airing.

‘Monsieur Castelnau?' the Duke inquired of the concierge.

‘This way, monsieur.' the man led them through a spacious stone-faced hall to the lift.

It shot up to the fifth floor and, as he opened the gates, the concierge pointed to a door upon the right.

‘Number Seventy-two,' he said quietly. ‘I think Monsieur Castelnau has just come in.'

The gates clanged behind them, and the lift flashed silently down again to the ground floor. De Richleau gave Rex a swift glance and, stepping towards the door of number seventy-two, pressed the bell.

The tall, elaborately carved door was opened by a bald, elderly man-servant in a black alpaca coat. Rex gave his name, and the servant looked past him with dark, inquiring eyes at the others.

‘These are friends of mine who're seeing Monsieur Castelnau on the same business,' Rex said abruptly, stepping into the long, narrow hall. ‘Is he in?'

‘Yes, monsieur, and he is expecting you. This way, if you please.'

Marie Lou perched herself on a high couch of Cordova leather, while the other three followed the back of the alpaca jacket down the corridor. Another tall, carved door was thrown open, and they entered a wide, dimly-lit
salon,
furnished in the old style of French elegance: gilt ormolu,
tapestries, bric-à-brac, and a painted ceiling where cupids disported themselves among roseate flowers.

Castelnau stood, cold, thin, angular and hatchet-faced, with his back to a large porcelain stove. He was dressed in the clothes which he had worn at the banquet. The wide, watered silk ribbon with the garish colours of some foreign order cut across his shirt front, and a number of decorations were pinned to the lapel of his evening coat.

‘Monsieur Van Ryn.' He barely touched Rex's hand with his cold fingers and went on in his own language. ‘It is a pleasure to receive you. I know your house well by reputation, and from time to time in the past my own firm has had some dealings with yours.' Then he glanced at the others sharply. ‘These gentlemen are, I assume, associated with you in this business?'

‘They are.' Rex introduced them briefly ‘The Duke de Richleau–Mr Richard Eaton.'

Castelnau's eyebrows lifted a fraction as he studied the Duke's face with new interest. ‘Of course,' he murmured. ‘Monsieur le Duc must pardon me if I did not recognise him at first. It is many years since we have met, and I was under the impression that he had never found the air of Paris good for him; but perhaps I am indiscreet to make any reference to that old trouble.'

‘The business which has brought me is urgent, monsieur.' De Richleau replied suavely. ‘Therefore I elected to ignore the ban which a Government of bourgeois and socialists placed upon me.'

‘A grave step, monsieur, since the police of France have a notoriously long memory. Particularly at the present time when the Government has cause to regard all politicals who are not of its party with suspicion. However,' the banker bowed slightly, ‘that, of course, is your own affair entirely. Be seated, gentlemen. I am at your service.'

None of the three accepted the proffered invitation, and Rex said abruptly: ‘The bullion deal I spoke of when I called you on the telephone was only an excuse to secure this interview. The three of us have come here tonight because we know that you are associated with Mocata.'

The Frenchman stared at him in blank surprise and was just about to burst into angry protest when Rex hurried on. ‘It'll cut no ice to deny it. We know too much. The night before last we saw you at that joint in Chilbury, and afterwards with the rest of those filthy swine doing the devil's business on Salisbury Plain. You're a Satanist, and you're going to tell us all you know about your leader.'

Castelnau's dark eyes glittered dangerously in his long, white face. They shifted with a sudden furtive glance towards an open escritoire.

Before he could move, Richard's voice came quiet but steely. ‘Stay where you are. I've got you covered, and I'll shoot you like a dog if you flicker an eyelid.'

De Richleau caught the banker's glance, and with his quick, cat-like step had reached the ornate desk. He pulled out a few drawers, and then found the weapon that he felt certain must be there. It was a tiny .2 pistol, but deadly enough. Having assured himself that it was loaded, he pointed it at the Satanist. ‘Now,' he said, icily, ‘are you prepared to talk, or must I make you?'

Castelnau shrugged, then looked down at his feet. ‘You cannot make me,' he replied with a quiet confidence, ‘but if you tell me what you wish to know, I may possibly give you the information you require in order to get rid of you.'

‘First, what do you know of Mocata's history?'

‘Very little, but sufficient to assure you that you are exceedingly ill-advised if, as it appears, you intend to pit yourself against him.'

‘To hell with that!' Rex snapped angrily; ‘get on with the story.'

‘Just as you wish. It is the Canon Damien Mocata to whom you refer, of course. When he was younger he was an officiating priest at some church in Lyons, I believe. He was always a difficult person, and his intellectual gifts made a thorn in the sides of his superiors. Then there was some scandal and he left the Church; but long before that he had become an occultist of exceptional powers. I met him some years ago and became interested in his operations. Your apparent disapproval of them does not distress me in the least. I find their theory an exceptionally interesting study, and their practice of the greatest assistance in governing my business transactions. Mocata lives in Paris for a good portion of the year, and I see him from time to time socially in addition to our meetings for esoteric purposes. I think that is all that I can tell you.'

‘When did you see him last?' asked the Duke.

‘At Chilbury two nights ago, when we gathered again after the break-up of our meeting. I suppose you were responsible for that?' Castelnau's thin lips broke into a ghost of a smile. ‘If so, believe me, you will pay for it.'