Household by Florence Stevenson Page B

the same stillness did not prevail. Though no one save his guide was in evidence, he heard muted conversations and, he thought, light feminine laughter. He stared around the entrance hall, seeing several doors. Where did they lead? More specifically, where was he being led?
    The boy opened one of the doors and beckoned Richard to follow him. They were in a dimly-lighted corridor; on either side of them were paneled walls similar to those on the upper floors but unadorned by paintings. At the end of the corridor, Richard saw another portal. Reaching it, his guide knocked loudly three times.
    Three for the holy trinity, Richard thought amusedly as the door swung slowly open. Though the boy went inside, Richard remained on the threshold staring into a small room, lighted by two candles placed on a long flat table covered by a scarlet cloth and flanked by three chairs. Richard’s eyes shifted to the cloth on which was emblazoned a golden cross. There was, he thought, something strange about that cross, and another look revealed that it was upside down.
    Richard immediately recognized another symbol of Sir Francis’ so-called Satanism. A book he had found in the seminary library had contained a description of Satanic practices. The text had been spiced with such adjectives as “horrid,” “abominable” and “evil.” Richard could not see anything abominable or evil about the reversed cross nor, he told himself, would any other enlightened person.
    “Enter, my Lord,” someone ordered in deep sepulchral tones.
    Richard looked about him but saw no one. Then, a panel behind the table slid slowly open, and three men in cowled robes similar to his own appeared and took the three chairs. Richard concealed a threatening grin as he noted their cowls were up, leaving their features in darkness. The effect was eerie but not as frightening as they evidently hoped. He faced them boldly, saying ironically, “Good evening, good sirs.”
    They did not move or speak. Three monkish monoliths, he thought amusedly. Finally, after a long pause, the man on the left said, “Richard Veringer, Lord More, are you present?”
    “As you see,” Richard acknowledged.
    “Do you know why you are here?” inquired the man on the right.
    Richard’s patience was swiftly leaving him, “No. At least, I do not know why I have been summoned to this room.”
    “You have been summoned here, Richard Veringer, because we want your word that you’ll reveal nothing of what has or will take place during your stay.” It was the man in the center who had spoken, and Richard recognized Sir Francis Dashwood’s tones.
    “You have that,” he replied brusquely. “And indeed you need not have asked.”
    “On the contrary, it is important to ask, important, too, that you swear on the head of our Prince Satan, guardian of the Monks of Medmenham, that you will abide by our rules. Will you swear?”
    “If I must,” Richard said.
    “You must,” the man on the right said solemnly.
    “And if you forget your obligations to us,” the man on the left spoke in a deep monotone, “you’ll pay the price and suffer the consequences. Do you understand?”
    Richard nodded. The thought of Catlin was in his mind again, or rather it had never left his mind. He had an impulse to tell them all to go to hell, but, under the present circumstances, such an order must prove singularly ineffective.
    He said, “I understand.”
    “And will swear.”
    “Very well,” said the man on the left, “repeat after me. ‘I, Richard Veringer, do solemnly swear to keep faith with those who sit in high places and whose hearts and souls are in thrall to the Prince of Darkness, whom I now recognize as my liege Lord.’”
    Richard, repeating the requested oath, wondered what more he must suffer before seeing her. He was really going through hell! He bit down a threatening laugh as he realized that in the eyes of the trio on the dais, he was doing just that! “Is it enough, Brother?”