"And the victims of the underground collapse," I added. "It's possible Edgar tampered with the tunneling equipment. Weaken a support here or there, and it would not have been particularly difficult to cause the roof to cave in."
"Then we must put a stop to it. Do you still have the revolver?"
"Indeed I do."
"When we encounter Lord Snetton and Edgar again, I would ask you not to shoot."
"But—"
"Septimus, it is plain to me that an evil spirit has taken each of them over. They are not acting of their own free will, and if you kill their host bodies you will be murdering innocent men."
"I witnessed Edgar murdering a helpless victim. Are you saying it was not his fault?"
"Somewhere inside his body, his own spirit may be screaming to get out. Deep down, he may be as sickened as you are at the killings, but completely helpless against the evil that has taken up residence."
Or maybe Edgar and Lord Snetton are just evil, I thought, for I did not believe a man could be forced to commit such horrors against his will. Why, if such were the case, every murderer brought to the Old Bailey would be crying that it was not his fault, and that evil spirits made him do it! There would be no justice for any crime, and the very fabric of society would be torn asunder.
"I see you doubt me," said Roberta. "I do not seek to excuse my cousin, and nor would I spare him if these horrors are truly his own fault. But I beg you to consider the possibility before you shoot him dead. Will you promise me?"
"Very well, you have my word." I said reluctantly. "But if any of us are in mortal danger, I will fire bullet after bullet until the gun is empty. You have my word on that also."
Roberta looked like she might argue, but such was my resolve that she let it lie.
"What can we do to meet this horror?" I asked her. "Is there equipment we can build? Potions that might help us? A more powerful weapon, perhaps?"
Slowly, she shook her head. "This situation is entirely new to me. To be honest, I am reaching in the dark."
These were not the words I wished to hear, for I'd been hoping Roberta might have an effective solution to the problem.
"Father does have a number of old books in his study," she said suddenly. "We should see whether we can identify the portal you saw."
"You're not suggesting there is more than one kind?" I asked her in alarm.
"Oh yes. The barrier between our world and the next is thin and easily broken. Blood sacrifices are commonly used to create these gateways, but there are many different rituals. If we can identify the ritual in use, it will make it easier to close the rift. If not, we might be forced to employ more direct measures. Measures almost as unholy as those employed to open the rift in the first place."
I did not ask what those direct measures were, although I guessed she meant sacrifices. To think I, a simple bookkeeper, would be exposed to such an outlandish situation. Why, the knowledge of a hellish dimension parallel to our own would drive most souls to madness!
We hurried to the professor's study, and on the way I glanced towards the sitting-room door. It was firmly closed, and I hoped Mrs Fairacre was being successful in her attempts to revive the professor, for I knew we were lost without him. Cantankerous he might be, and somewhat over-confident and hypocritical too, but while Roberta was most capable in the matter of spirits I suspected we would need the professor's superior knowledge.
Roberta took down an armful of dusty books and laid them on the professor's workbench, and then we took a pile each and began our search. I could not believe the horrors displayed upon those pages, for there were sketches of tortured souls with their limbs being torn from their bodies, pages of aberrant and deviant behaviour the likes of which I had never before seen, let alone imagined, and far, far worse. Foul creatures lurked on every page, and the sickening images got more terrifying and depraved the further I got. I glanced at Roberta, concerned that she might be as sickened as I, but her face was calm and expressionless. "What of this one?" she asked me. "Is this similar to the gateway you observed?"
It was not. For one thing, the portal in the drawing had flames spreading out from the perimeter. For another, it was set into a solid wall, and appeared to be no more than half the height of a man. I told her so, and she turned the page without comment.
We finished the first two books together, and set them aside to start on the next. By now I was beginning to despair, for time was passing and for all I knew Lord Snetton and Edgar were murdering more and more victims. I felt we should be gathering weapons, and demanding to speak with the professor, and even, dare I say it, calling on Inspector Cox and Sergeant Parkes and the rest of the Kensington police force.
But deep down I knew Roberta was right, for my impatience would only lead to more deaths. Hers, mine, the professor's… and any policemen who tried to apprehend Lord Snetton and his scar-faced accomplice. To put it plainly, we could not fight back until we knew what we faced.
"Is this similar?" Roberta asked me.
I looked over her shoulder to see a drawing of some poor unfortunate being put to death in some arcane