"FALSE GODS."

Auckland Star, Volume LIV, Issue 130, 2 June 1923, Page 26

" FALSE GODS."

By GUY THORNE. Author of "Film City," "Tho Crime on the Film," Etc.

CHAPTER IX.^Continued. Tiie sud.'len opening of the door sont the Duke leaping from his chair with a cry. Pontifex was standing there, and announced tbat tile time had come for the procession to the lonely temple in the woods. The cortege started from a eidi door of the Castle, and when the ghostlike, hooded figures of the ladies appeared upon the steps, they saw that tho coffin had already been brought from the tower chamber, and placed upon a light, four-wheeled wagon draped with heavy, purple cloth. It started off past the Norman portion of the house and round tho stable and the great kitchen gardens, and entered tho park by a side gate. Tho undertakers, looking horribly grotesque in their black frockcoats and high hats, could bo seen walking two by two on each tide of the wagon in tho light of torches held aloft by footmen, for the night was sabledark.

It was oppressively hot, also, and as they came out upon tho smooth turf the sudden cessation of sound was uncanny—"like footsteps upon wool."

"Might have had a band!" the Duke whispered to Staveley, with whom he was walking at the taU of the procession. Nor did ho mean to jest. Even the poignant cry of Chopin's "Funeral March," or the wail of the pipes, or the throb of muffled drums, would have been better than this stealthy midnight progress.

"I suppose," the lad wmstoered again, after a silence, "I suppose there can be no possible chance of any disgusting ■hanky-panky like that blinking conjuror in the velvet coat told us of?" "We are not in Tibet, Charles," said Staveley, saying the thing he knew would most re-assure his companion. "Nerves a bit shaken?"

'Oh, no—l'm as right as a keg of nails! Still, all this is a bit creepy " and he relapsed into silence.

As for Staveley, he was deeply and unaccountably depressed. His mind went back to the inexplicable apparii tion of the Indian by the river. He had not thought about it much, preferring to put it out of his mind for future solution, but it came to -him in a vivid gust of memory now. It had happened, there was no doubt of that. Cynthia had seen it, as well as himselt, and there was no delusion of his individual mind. And yet he was as far from accounting for it as he had ever been.

And behind him, in the dark, lay one of the keenest intellects alive, stricken down and robbed of function in some unknown and deeply sinister way. What were these mysterious agencies that surrounded him? What secret.was hidden in that black, moving bulk ahead upon which tho red light of the torches flickered?

.He sighed profoundly,-he could not help it, and the leaden weight upon his heart pressed heavily. There was no life in the air to-night. It was warm— dead. He experienced a sudden unreasoning rush of passion. It was intolerable that all these highly-placed and charming people should still be the slaves of that shrivelled mummy in the box! The dear, stately Duchess, her charming daughters—it was sickening to see them stealing through the dark and playing the parts of chorus in this grim farce. He cursed himself, also, for ever having been mixed up in ;it! Oh, for a little air, a night breeze, a ray of moonlight, or a single yellow star!

j As they passed isolated groups pr trees, they seemed; ""D his heated and distorted imagination like gigantic plumes upon a bearse. Although autumn had but hardly begun, there seemed to foe an odouT of decaying ."leaves and vegetation in his nostrils.

The newly-erected structure in which ■the coffin was to be housed was about •half a mile from the Castle gardens and •in- the wildest and most unfrequented ' portion of the park. The broad rides to a mere cart-track through ' sombre woods—never used except in the shooting season for a game cart, or to bring stores to the outlying cottage of some keeper. The pheasants were all roosting in the trees, ibut there were furtive noises in the undergrowth from ..the small -creatures of the night; and !-nqw the feet of the horses which drew -the funeral car cracked upon ' fallen twigs with a sharp, electric sound. They passed an, evil-looking laike, entirely .surrounded by trees, and then came out into a place where four roads met.

In the centre of this they could dimly •discern tho ( sable hump of a small, -domed building encircled by an expanse of turf, perhaps an acre in extent. Immense Irish yews, of a size rarely seen, walled the sunless arena like cliffs of riven Ibasalt, and the Duke whispered that beyond was the broad main reach the river which meandered through ■ marshes and cornlands to the ancient East Anglian city.

A voice was heard jarring into the silence like the note of a hunting jay. ■ "Dr. Staveley, please!" It was Colonel de Beauvais, the Master of the Ceremonies, and John stumbled to him as well as he could.

'1 have here," said de Beauvais, "the key of the temple. It is the Duchess* wish htat we go in together and light the candles before the coffin is bestowed in its appointed place." They walked a few yards, and Staveley saw that the building was larger than he had supposed. It was circular and domed, standing on a concrete platform reached bj a few shallow steps. The Colonel flashed an electric torch and inserted a little Yale key into the lock of a massive door.

"Walk straight in/ he said, "there are no obstacles."

John did so, and there was the scratch and splutter of a match and the black flgure moved round ihe walls kindling candle after candle until everything was plain to see.

The round dhamber was without windows of any kind. The walls were of smooth plaster upon brick, and the plaster was painted a dull grey-green. From a cornice some ten feet up sprang the dome, and by the light of the candles which stood in iron holders upon bracket, Staveley saw that between the supporting ribs which divided it into two sections, and met in a central metal boss, the panels were painted with curious symbols. Exactly opposite the door was an alcove, or apse, raised some two feet above the room itself. This was large enough to contain the coffin, and obviously destined for it, for there were two supports of stone for it to rest upon. _ All around the room ran a wooden «_£§•*-_??•£ tho °P e n floor was of some riaxbi£ ' ah«.y aubstance, .Ute Or

"This is the place," said the Colonel. "There are •no windows, nor is there any way of entering it but through the door, which you see is both strong and massive, and which you win, or courso, seal up when we leave."

It was as he had said. Once safely secured, Staveley felt that he could rest certain the coffin would bo undisturbed, though, as ho reflected warily, it would not very much matter if ft were, for a corpse with the remains of one lung and with the radial arteries severed wound not easily be re-animated, even if Mr. Omerod could import his sorceress from Tibet!

Then, through tho dark slit of the door, tho company entered, the faces of all of them chalk-white in the yellow candle-light. They sat down upon the bench, and finally' tho long, teak box was carried in by tho undertakers and placed upon tho'stone supports in the niche.

It was a dreary business. Staveley, who really knew very little about the J.ito Paul' Kama's teaching, would have supposed that some prayer would Ti3To been said, or hymn sung —something or that sort. But it. was not so. 4Thc place itself, save for tho mystic paintings in the roof, was ns bare as a London mortuary, and the proceedings as devoid of anything spiritual as the burial of a French free-thinker in Pere-La-Chaise, without even the valedictory speeches by the graveside, and yet all this ugliness struck an added chill to the mind. The young doctor could not free himself from the growing obsession of evil. There was nothing honest, brave, or good about it—bad, all through!

They filed out again in silence, and tho bulk of the party, still guided by torch-light, hurried away. Staveley remained behind with Colonel do Beauvais, locked the door and affixed several seals. The Duke stood waiting. Ho knew the way home, and had offered to be their guide.

At last it was over, and they set out. Colonel de Beauvais. as if relieved, began to talk volubly, and, perhaps, because tho sound of a human voice cheered him, and certainly he had found Staveley but a dull companion on the way out, tho Duko walked with the soldier.

Jolin, thinking deeply, or rather trying to find his way through a mist of tangled thought, followed at some distance behind. Ho heard the voices in front growing fainter as they progressed, but he did not care. He had a good lump of locality, and was certain that he could regain the Castle easily enough. And he wanted to ho alone.

But before Jic had gone a third of the distance ho heard soft, rapid footsteps coming up behind him. He wheeled round, and something sprang up in him that was pure joy. 'He did not doubt for a moment that tho same agency which had struck down Mr. Duncan wns at his heels now', and longed to come to grips with something tangible. Instinctively, he bent low, ready to collar the advancing person like . a Rugby 'footballer, but. as if his purpose was defined, tho footsteps stopped and he could hear gentle breathing two yards or so away. And then a voice, very suave and quiet, "Dr. Staveley, is that you?" "Who are you?" he aaid. "L!" "A" John replied mechanically, and in a moment more the dark figure had stepped up to him—Donelly, the detective ! "Can you give mc five minutes, doctor?" the man said. "There is a thick rhododendron wood 6nly a few yards away to the right, and in a little clearing in the middle I have pitchod a small cyclist's tent." He took him by the arm with a strong, firm grip, and Staveley felt as if he were being arrested—it was a curious sensation for the moment,, and made him smile, for, quite unconsciously the ex-superintendent of Scotland Yard did not take one's arm at all in the fashion of a layman! They came out into a sombre clearing. Donelly dived into his little tent. There was the click of a torch, and the aperture glowed dull orange. Inside, when the flap was fastened over the opening, the little place.was rathnr snug. A ground-sheet of waterprov/f had been spread upon the floor, there were two camp stools, a folding table, and a mattress with rugs; also a large basket containing several bottles of beer and a cold chicken with a loaf of bread. "Good gracious!" said John, "you do yourself well. Mr. Donelly! How on earth did you get all these things here?" "His Grace spoke a word to one of the keepers," said the detective. "He knows I am here." "Does he, by Jove!" thought Stavelev. realising at once that Sir Tempfe Greaves must have spoken to Charles before he left for town. It did not require •much penetration to recreate the thought-processes of that elemental mind. Charles was, of course, in the highest state of self-importance and secret joy. He had at last asserted himself! "A very pleasant young gentleman, sir, is his Grace," said Mr. Donelly. "We had quite a long chat together, and Ec would not be satisfied till I hrjd gone through several of my past cases with him. And now," — changing his note to one more business-like —"and now, doctor T am here to watch that building yonder like a cat watches a mouse. I don't know what is going to happen, nor does Sir Temple Greaves, but anything may. I have had a good look all over the place, inside and out, and found nothing out of the ordinary." "Have you?" Staveley said, in surprise, "but it was locked!" Then he realised that he had said a stupid thing — a thing that Charles would certainly not have said, for Mr. Donelly merely smiled. "No," he continued, "as far as the actual structure is concerned, doctor, I see nothing to excite suspicion. All the same, I am certain we are in for something startling." "Can you tell mc exactly what makes you say that, Mr. Donelly?" "Well, isn't it obvious? That attack on Mr. Duncan, for instance, that was not done by any spirit! All this elaborate business .here is the means to some end. And more than that, sir, I know that something is going to happen—and something unpleasant, too. A man does not spend hfs life in my job without getting a sort of sixth sense that does not deceive him. It is an instinct that, warns one at once, and I have got it strong." "Have you any idea? Do you expect anything in particular?" "I have thought of half a dozen things that may happen, all equally possible, hut I have fixed on np single one of them." "I," said Staveley, "have not even been able to do that! My whole feeling about the matter has been one of anxiety for the Duchess, and her daughters, and her friends, when they, find out they [have been trickeed."

"They will have some sort of a manifestation—don't yoU be afraid, sir!" Staveley was inclined to agree. His thoughts had been tending that way for a long time. "I wish I could understand why," he said.

"Ah, now, sir, you liave put your finger on the crux of tho whole question For every human act there is a motive—even if it is the motive of a madman, and there is no obvious mo-ivo here. But—l am only going to give you a hint as to the way I am looking at it.—first of all, to-morrow General Achilles Munro will be hero, if, indeed, he is not within a quarter of a mile from us now, which I thould not think at all unlikely!" In spite of himself, Staveley shuddered.

"I never saw a more utterly abominable personality in my lifo," he said. Mr. Donelly nodded. "Yes," he answered, "he can't hide it, like some of them do! You will remember those notes I mado about tho General? Well, I have learnt a good deal more 6ince then —and not by inquiring round about Enfield. Now, "Dr. Staveley, one thing I have learnt is that General Munro spent a good deal of time—two years, in fact, when ho disappeared entirely— in exploring in that little-known country, Tibet. I don't want to keep you hero any longer, and I must be out in tho bracken, watching the temple But when you return, think over this—the late Duke of Norwich was an Indian traveller and explorer, too!"

Staveley started violently, and would have asked a hundred questions, but Mr. Donelly had stopped for tho night, and would say nothing more.

Staveley was guided into the main drive, and in twenty minutes regained the Castle. He looked in upon Mr. VV. W. Duncan as he passed to his own room, and was gratified to find that tho patient was at last in a natural sleep. He had, the nurse said, been perspiring freely, and it was obvious that the effect of tho drug was passing rapidly away.

CTo tie continued daily.)