off down the hall.
'We've put a bed in the study for you, Father:' Chris was fidgeting. 'It's really very comfortable and I thought you'd like the privacy. I'll show you where it is.' She'd started moving, then stopped. 'Or would you like to say hello to Father Karras?'
'I should like to see your daughter first,' said Merrin.
She looked puzzled 'Right now, you mean, Father?'
He glanced upward again with that distant attentiveness. 'Yes, now---I think now.'
'Gee, I'm sure she's asleep.'
'I think not.'
'Well, if---'
Suddenly, Chris flinched at a sound from above, at the voice of the demon, booming and yet muffled, croaking, like amplified premature burial.
'Merriiiiinnnnnn!'
Then the massive and shiveringly hollow jolt of a single blow against the bedroom wall.
'God almighty!' Chris breathed as she clutched a pale hand against her chest. Stunned, she looked at Merrin.
The priest hadn't moved. He was still staring upward, intense and yet serene, and in his eyes there was not even a hint of surprise. It was more, Chris thought, like recognition.
Another blow shook the walls.
'Merriiiiinnnnnnnnnn!'
The Jesuit moved slowly forward, oblivious of Chris, who was gaping in wonder; of Karl, stepping lithe and incredulous from the study; of Karras, emerging bewildered from the kitchen while the nightmarish poundings and croakings continued. He went calmly up the staircase, slender hand like alabaster sliding upward on the banister.
Karras came up beside Chris, and together they watched from below as Merrin entered Regan's bedroom and closed the door behind him. For a time there was silence. Then abruptly the demon laughed hideously and Merrin came out. He closed the door and started down the hall. Behind him, the bedroom door opened again and Sharon poked her head out, staring -after him, an odd expression on her face.
The Jesuit descended the staircase rapidly and put out his hand to the waiting Karras.
'Father Karras...'
'Hello, Father.'
Merrin had clasped the other priest's hand in both of his; he was squeezing it, searching Karras' face with a look of gravity and concern, while upstairs the laughter turned to vicious, obscenities directed at Merrin. 'You look terribly tired,' he said 'Are you tired?'
'Not at all. Why do you ask?'
'Do you have your raincoat with you?'
Karras shook his head and said, 'No.'
'Then here, take mine,' said the gray-haired Jesuit, unbuttoning the coat. 'I should like you to go to the residence, Damien, and gather up a cassock for my-self, two surplices, a purple stole, some holy water and two copies of The Roman Ritual.' He handed the raincoat to the puzzled Karras. 'I believe we should begin.'
Karras frowned. 'You mean now? Right away?'
'Yes, I think so.'
'Don't you want to hear the background of the case first, Father?'
'Why?'
Merrin's brows were knitted in earnestness.
Karras realized that he had no answer. He averted his gaze from those disconcerting eyes. 'Right,' he said. He was slipping on the raincoat and turning away. 'I'll go and get the things.'
Karl made a dash across the room, got ahead of Karras and pulled the front door open for him. They exchanged brief glances, and then Karras stepped out into the rainy night. Merrin glanced back to Chris. 'You don't mind if we begin right away?' he asked softly.
She'd been watching him, glowing with relief at the feeling of decision and direction and command rushing in like a shout in sunlit day. 'No, I'm glad,' she said gratefully. 'You must be tired, though, Father.'
He saw her anxious gaze flick upward toward the raging of the demon.
'Would you like a cup of coffee?' she was asking. 'It's fresh.' Insistent. Faintly pleading. 'It's hot. Wouldn't you like some; Father?'
He saw the hands lightly clasping, unclasping; the deep caverns of her eyes. 'Yes, I would,' he said warmly. 'Thank you.' Something heavy had been gently brushed aside; told to wait. 'If you're sure it's no trouble...'
She led him to the kitchen and soon he was leaning against the stove with a mug of black coffee in his hand.
'Want some brandy in it Father?' Chris held up the bottle.
