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
`You're mad! You can't do this!
'Oh, but I can!' The Canon's voice had become cruelly bantering. `It is only a little after half past ten, so there is ample time to put you on the line before the train passes. Even should someone enquire for you during the next half hour, if they are told that you have already left I do not believe for an instant that they would risk breaking in without some concrete reason for supposing that harm has befallen you. To do so would ruin your own success, had you managed to carry through your imposture; so before taking any action they would certainly go back to the inn to make quite sure you had not returned there. You are as much my creature now as any of the homunculi, and there is no power in the world that can prevent my doing what I like with you.'
`Perhaps. All the same . . . if you do as you say you ... you'll swing for it.'
Copely Syle shook his silvery head and smiled. `Wishful thinking, my poor friend; wishful thinking. There will not be one scrap of evidence against me. Your death will so clearly be an unfortunate accident. “How sad,” people who know you will say. “Colonel Verney was really no age, and such a nice man.” Naturally, although you were a stranger to me, as you met your death soon after leaving my house I shall send a wreath. Have you any preference in flowers? Since it was poking your nose into other people's business while in the South of France that has brought you to this sorry pass, I think carnations and mimosa would be rather suitable.'
`You . . . you'll swing, I tell you!' C. B. croaked. `The people who knew I was coming here knew my suspicions about you. If I'm found dead they'll pull this place to pieces. They'll find what I found. Once they've nailed your motive for getting rid of me, the rope will be as good as round your neck.'
His face suddenly distorted with rage, the Canon took a step forward and began to strike C. B. again and again in the face with his small flabby hands.
`Swine! Swine! Swine!' he cried. `So owing to you there is now a risk that my sanctum here may be desecrated! That clods incapable of apprehending the significance of the most elementary mystery may break in; may destroy my priceless possessions; may ruin the work of a life time. But no! Once you, who have some understanding of these things, are out of the way, I can deal with them.'
Calming down with the same suddenness as he had flown into a passion, he added, `This is England. No one will dare force their way into the house without a search warrant. If I held you prisoner they might apply for one.
But your body is certain to be found soon after it is light; so there will be nothing for which to search here. You did not know about my homunculi before I told you of them; so your friends cannot suspect the work upon which
I am engaged. They can know nothing more than that I planned to have Ellen kidnapped. I shall find no difficulty in fooling anyone who may call here to make enquiries.'
`That will not save you!'
`Yes it will. You are my only danger. Once you are silenced for good I shall have nothing to fear.'
`You are wrong.' C.B.’s voice came hoarsely. It was still an effort to speak, but he knew that he was fighting for his life. `I shall still be a danger to you when I am dead. However cleverly you may lie to my friends, they will still be suspicious at my sudden death. They will insist on a post mortem. My body will be found full of this infernal poison. They'll get you on that.'
The Canon laughed again, his good humour quite restored. `No, no! As with most drugs that paralyze the body while leaving the brain unimpaired, its effects are only temporary, They soon wear off. To keep you as helpless as you are at present I shall have to give you another dose before we carry you out, and yet a third when we leave you on the line. By the time your body is found all traces of the drug will have disappeared.'
This piece of information brought C. B. a glimmer of hope. Perhaps it was no more than the effect of suggestion, but he had the impression that his feet were not quite so dead to all sensation as they had been when he had first endeavoured to struggle up from the chair. If he could keep Copely Syle talking for a while there now seemed a chance that he might recover the use of his limbs at least enough for one violent movement. The Canon obviously lacked both muscle and stamina. If suddenly sprung upon by a much weightier man, it was certain that he would go down under the impact. Once down and grasped by hands that would be growing stronger every moment, it would be long odds against his being able to free himself. C.B.’s fears eased a little. He knew that he was very far from being out of the wood, yet all the same he began to savour the thought of getting his long fingers round that plump neck.
His hopes were short lived. Almost as though the Canon had read his victim's thoughts, he said, `With such a big man as yourself, Colonel Verney, the effects of the drug may be of unusually short duration, and such a hearty specimen of British manhood can hardly be expected to accept calmly the fact that death is waiting for him at the bottom of the garden. There is too much at stake for me to take any chances. Just in case you should recover
