The Secret of The Zodiac

THE SECRET OF THE ZODIAC
"So you see, my dear Coningsby, that the

world is governed by very different personages
from what is imagined by those who are not
behind the scenes."-D1sRAELI.
THE
SECRET OF THE
ZODIAC
by
JULIAN STERNE
BOSWELL PUBLISHING CO., LTD.

xo ESSEX STREET, LONDON, W.C.2
1 933
Made and Printed in G1'eatBritain
by Hazell, Watson&, Viney Ltd.
London and
Aylesbuyy
CONTENTS
CHAPTER PAGlt
I. A POLITICAL DEBUTANT • 7
II. COMRADES IN ARMS 24
III. THE DOUBLE LIFE OF JAMES BRANDON 38
IV. AN EVENTFUL WEEK-END 50

V. THE ZODIAC 70
VI. ROSAMUND'S STORY 84
VII. KAVANAGH HUNTS FOR DRAGONS IOI
VIII. THE VILLA PAX MUND! 126
IX. WITHIN THE TEMPLE I5I
X. ON THE TRACK OF THE CONSPIRACY I8I
XI. THE CHEKA 217
XII. COSMOS 240
XIII. A KENSINGTON TRAGEDY 267
XIV. THE END OF THE QUEST 283
XV. THE DEBACLE 304
5
THE SECRET OF THE ZODIAC
CHAPTER I
A POLITICAL DEBUTANT
IT was a warm night in May, and Sir Alfred and Lady

Frensham were giving one of their dull dinners at
the House of Commons.
There was really no reason why their parties should
be dull. Sir Alfred, Conservative member for West-
borough, was a cheery man, still on the right side of
fifty, very popular in the county, and particularly in
the hunting field, whilst Lady Frensham, with her
G.harming smile and attractive clothes, had made
herself beloved by every class of the constituency.
Neither were the guests at her parties altogether of
a boring kind. But they were badly sorted. Living
in a perpetual whirl of political and social functions,
Lady Frensham had no time to consider which of her
guests would be congenial to each other. So, when
giving dinners, she had fallen into the habit of ticking
off a list of the people who were " owed invitations "
and then arranging them round the table as she would
have played a hand of cards, following the same suit-
a duke's daughter next to a marquis, a baronet next
to a knight's widow, a plain captain next to an untitled
spinster, and so on.
Consequently, this evening the ethereal Lady
Daphne Medway, whose poems were the rage in high-
7
8 THE SECRET OF THE ZODIAC
brow circles, was obliged to sit mutely beside the
plethoric old Lord Kilbain, who thought it affected to
talk of anything but hunting prospects, whilst Mrs.
Blitheroe, whose weather-beaten complexion spoke of
long runs across country in the teeth of a winter gale,
was vainly endeavouring to make herself understood
by a rising young Italian novelist who spoke only two
words of English.
Major Terence Kavanagh, prospective Conservative
candidate for South Mershire, looking round the table,
wondered why people should take the trouble to give
dinners and then not make them more convivial. If
only Lady Daphne had been placed next to Antonio
Grigio, and Mrs. Blitheroe next to Lord Kilbain, if
only he himself were next to Rosamund Dare, the one
girl who during the short time he had been back in
London had really interested him, that would have
been a dinner-party worth turning out for. Under
such circumstances it might even have been possible
to forget the deficiencies of the House of Commons
menu. As it was, he found himself flanked on one side
by Mrs. Murray Bateman, wholly monopolised by her
right-hand neighbour, and on the other by Myra-
the young and extremely animated daughter of the
multi-millionaire, Sir Paul Greenworthy-whom but
for Rosamund on the other side of the table he might
have found attractive. But in his present mood
Myra's scintillations rather tired him, and it was a
relief when Mrs. Bateman, at last released by the
member for Downborough, turned towards him with a
sigh and murmured:
" I've been having such a terrible dose of statistics,
Major Kavanagh, do tell me something amusing to
take the taste away."
A POLITICAL DEBUTANT 9
Mrs. Murray Bateman, wife of the member for Lud-
ford, was very popular in " the Party." She had done
so many things-worked in a hospital in France during
the war, interviewed the Kaiser for a Sunday news-
paper, dined with Bela Kun in Budapest, bathed with
Mussolini; it was said she had even penetrated into
the heart of Thibet disguised as the wife of a Chinese
mandarin, though there were cynics who unkindly
shrugged their shoulders at her accounts of this last
exploit. And since she knew every good restaurant
in Paris, Vienna, and New York, had met every
celebrated author, musician, actor, scientist, and film
star, and entertained every visiting foreign celebrity
at her marvellously decorated house in Curzon Street,
there was no one more in request than Mrs. Murray
Bateman whenever one wanted to get up an entertain-
ment, run a cabaret ball, or organise a bazaar in aid of
Party funds. She knew exactly how things should be
done, and who should be asked to do them, and as she
never held any special opinions on Party differences,
she was able to retain her popularity with all the various
coteries that made up official Conservative society.
Cabinet Ministers adored her. Whilst other women
plied them with tiresome questions on affairs of State,
Mrs. Murray Bateman could be safely trusted to lead
the conversation at dinner over country where lay no
pitfalls, so that a weary minister could throw off
restraint and let himself go without the fear of un-
,guardedly committing himself to some expression of
opinion.
Kavanagh, however, not being a minister, but a soldier
not long home from service in India and still in the
first flush of his political enthusiasm, listened with some
impatience whilst Mrs. Bateman talked to him of the
ro THE SECRET OF THE ZODIAC
charming little spot she had heard of in Austria, where
she hoped to find rest and peace after the London
season, of the marvellous Roumanian pianist she had
discovered, and of the latest volume of Memoirs which
had just appeared, and was said to be so scandalous
that quite a lot of libel actions might be expected.
All this might be amusing enough in normal times,
but in this year of 1934, with the fate of the Empire in
the balance, some discussion of more vital questions
might be expected. Yet in spite of the failure of the
"National Party" since it had taken office-with Mr.
Nelson Parbury, a leading Conservative, as Prime
Minister-to solve the grave problems confronting the
nation, no one seemed in the least disturbed.
Still, one could not accuse these people of being
idlers. The women particularly seemed to be ex-
tremely busy with charitable and political work.
Kavanagh could hear snatches of their conversation
all round the table :
"Dear Florrie, isn't she wonderful? Were you at
her party to meet the Prime Minister ? . . . Yes, I
always think her chef is quite the best in London ....
We've got six film stars to come and help at our
bazaar for the Mothers' Conservative Guild next
month. It ought to be a success .... We really
must get dear old Tommy in at the Westshire by-
election."
Then someone said plaintively :
" Poor Lady Winkmere, she sent out five hundred
invitations to a drawing-room meeting for the Young
Imperialists' League, and only fifty people came I All
those rows and rows of gilt chairs empty ! And she
had two Cabinet Ministers to speak I "
"Yes, so disappointing, wasn't it? And even some
A POLITICAL DEBUTANT II
of the fifty crept out in the middle of the Home Secre-

tary's speech. No, I wasn't there myself; it was the
day of the Sandmarket Stakes, you know."
"Well, anyhow, the cabaret ball for the League was
a great success. Such a crowd I Poor Mrs. Parbury
got jammed in the doorway and had to be taken home
in an ambulance."
Kavanagh was wondering whether anybody bothered
about the objects of the Young Imperialist League or
of the Mothers' Conservative Union and how Tommy's
success at the polls would affect the destinies of the
nation, when old Lady Kilbain leant across the table
and said earnestly :
" Oh, Major Kavanagh, I do hope you're coming to
the meeting for the Dogs' Borstal ! "
"The Dogs' Borstal? " Kavanagh repeated in a
puzzled tone.
" Yes. Hadn't you heard about it ? Lady Lutter-
worth's getting it up. She feels it's so hard that a dog
should only be allowed one bite. If there was a Dogs'
Borstal he could be sent to and placed under good
influences he might become quite a reformed character.
And then it wbuld give work to some of the
unemployed ! "
"So that, if he still felt like biting he could bite the
unemployed?" Kavanagh could not help remarking.
But Lady Kilbain looked shocked and said: "Oh,
I'm sure he wouldn't want to do that. There'd be
nothing to irritate him at a nice, kind Home. Do come
to the meeting on Friday I "
Only towards the end of dinner the Conservative
set-backs in the provinces came under discussion.
"All want of organisation," Mr. Oscar Franklin
observed impressively.
Everyone turned respectfully in his direction. The
multi-millionaire was the guest of the evening. Born
some fifty years ago in Frankfurt, he had migrated
in early youth to the United States and had assumed
American citizenship. But at the age of forty he had
developed a keen interest in the affairs of Great
Britain, and acquired the habit of spending the season
in London. After buying a magnificent house in
Carlton House Terrace, and renting a grouse moor, he
proceeded to inaugurate and finance a campaign for
"elevating films," and for some reason, not apparent
to the general public, had become persona grata in
official Conservative circles. On arrival in England
he never failed to pay a visit to the Central Office
of the Party in Palace Chambers, where he was received
with particular deference, and remained long closeted
with the Chairman. Although he played no official
part in political life, he had become a personage of
no small importance, and always spoke of "we"
in referring to the Party. Accompanied by his
son Isidore, a young man with a Charlie Chaplin
moustache, he provided the piece de resistance at the
Frenshams' dinner-party. Consequently, when he
opened his lips to speak, everyone listened to him as
to an oracle.
"Organisation is what we need," Oscar Franklin
went on, nodding his head sagaciously at the dinner-
table. "And for organisation we must have en-
thusiasm. The curse of the Party is apathy."
" Yes, indeed ! " came in a murmured chorus.
" The British people," Franklin continued in the
same impressive tone, "seem to have no conception of
the value of their heritage. With an Empire extend-
ing all over the face of the globe, they're content to
A POLITICAL DEBUTANT I3
exist as if it was still the Elizabethan era-thinking
only of cakes and ale. What they need," and he
thumped the table with his fist, "is to be made to
think imperially! "
" Oh, my dear Franklin, you'll never get the work-
ing classes to do that I" Mr. Murray Bateman observed
with a shrug of the shoulders. " It isn't in their
nature."
"The working classes," retorted Franklin, "are
sheep. They follow where they're led. All they want
is leaders. But we've got no brains in the Party-no
brains, I tell you I "
The words were frankly rude and spoken without a
disarming geniality of manner. But no one remon-
strated ; the great financier was too influential to be
treated with anything but deference.
"What we need," he added emphatically, "is a
Disraeli."
"Oh, of course," several voices agreed.
"All the same," Sir Alfred Frensham said cheerfully,
fortified by a hearty dinner and several glasses of
champagne, " we're not doing so badly. Of course
we've lost a good many seats, but we can afford that.
Our former majority was a bit unwieldy. It will be
easier now to agree on policy."
"But don't you think," Kavanagh said, joining for
the first time in the conversation, " that the Labour
Party are gaining ground rather rapidly ? "
" Oh, perhaps. But that doesn't matter. The
Labour Party have become eminently reasonable.
We've nothing to fear in that direction. The great
thing is to avoid antagonising them."
Everyone--or nearly everyone-murmured approval.
It was so pleasant to feel one need not worry, and that
one could get on with the hunting or whatever else one
happened to like doing without bothering one's head
about affairs of State. Only Kavanagh, remembering
the howls he had heard arising from the Labour benches
during the debate he had attended that afternoon, had
the temerity to ask :
"But aren't the Labour Party already antagonistic?
Surely you wouldn't describe Hanley as exactly
COIJ.ciliatory? "
" Not apparently, perhaps," said Sir Alfred Fren-
sham cheerfully. "Of course, they've got to keep up
a pretence of opposition to satisfy their constituents,
but really they're the best fellows in the world. Take
Bagnall, for instance, there isn't a better Imperialist
in the country."
"My dear Frensham," said Franklin in the lightly
patronising tone that was beginning to irritate Kava-
nagh, " Bagnall knows very well which side his bread
is buttered. .These Labour men are all the same.
Give them plenty to eat and, above all, plenty to
drink, a motor-car, and so on, and they're yours."
"Well, I must say I think better of them," said
Sir Alfred. " I believe they're thoroughly sound at
heart."
"Dear General Brigham said something that struck
me so much the other day," said old Lady Kilbain,
leaning forward and looking earnestly at Sir Alfred ;
" someone was talking about the danger of revolution
in England, and General Brigham said: 'No fear of
that. Trust to the common sense of the working
man.' I thought that so interesting."
Kavanagh, glancing at Oscar Franklin, caught the
quick flash of derision that passed across the prominent
black eyes of the financier, and shone out even more
A POLITICAL DEBUTANT IS
intensely in those of his son Isidore, who remained
silent throughout the conversation.
"What fools they think us all I" Kavanagh said
angrily to himself, " and so we are I "
But Sir Alfred answered heartily :
" Quite so, quite so, Lady Kilbain. Brighom's
perfectly right. The working man is not in the least
revolutionary. A better feeling between Labour and
Capital and all will be well."
" That can never be brought about as long as the
present system exists," said Dudley Milverton, one of
the " rising " young men of the Party, in the lofty tone
of one who realises that he alone amongst those pre-
sent knows the true solution to the point under dis-
cussion. " The terms Capital and Labour are now
completely obsolete. All such class distinctions must
be done away with. The rentier class, of course,
must disappear-this is inevitable in the course of
evolution. It is for us to hasten the process, and make
way for the new order."
Kavanagh listened in bewilderment. Was he at a
Conservative dinner-party or a meeting of the I.L.P. ?
The only person to express robust Imperialist senti-
ments was the American millionaire. The rest seemed
ready to acquiesce in any policy however defeatist
rather than appear "reactionary "-the one thing to
be avoided. Would they all be content to "dis-
appear" when it came to the point? he wondered.
At any rate no one expressed dissent. So, as there
seemed no comment to be made on the impending
cataclysm foretold by the last speaker, Lady Frensham
judged it the moment to catch old Lady Kilbain's
faded eye· and rise from the table. The whole party
moved out together on to the terrace to enjoy the
peaceful beauty of the spring night. Kavanagh, lean-
ing back in his chair, amused himself watching the
heterogeneous crowd that passed before his eyes-
country cousins, natives of India, American tourists,
being introduced to the Mother of Parliaments, prin-
cipally by " Labour " members, who entered into their
roles of hosts with particular fervour. The older
M.P.s, especially the Conservatives, sauntering past
with their hands in their pockets, looked, for the most
part, bored. Not so, however, Sarah Marchmont, the
Girton girl who, after taking a brilliant first in mathe-
matics, had successfully contested Lamington as a
Conservative, and was now engaged in a lively discus-
sion with the Minister of Agriculture.
"There's that tiresome Miss Marchmont I" mur-
mured Lady Frensham, turning to Kavanagh. " She's
evidently buttonholed poor Mr. Framlingham-how
terrible for him I "
" Isn't she the woman who started the Corps of
Speakers to go about the country and lecture on
Imperial questions ? It seemed to me a first-rate
idea."
" Oh yes, that's her hobby," said Mrs. Murray Bate-
man. " Before the last election everybody asked
one about Miss Marchmont's Corps. One got so
bored with it. Ah, Mr. Earrington," she went on,
playfully pulling the coat tail of a passing Conserva-
tive member, "I hope you're coming to our Ascot
party ? You never answered my invitation, you
know I"
"Didn't I, dear lady? How very remiss of me.
But I'm coming all the same."
Kavanagh turned away and looked across at
Rosamund Dare.
" Come and take a turn up the terrace and watch
the river," he said.
Rosamund rose with her usual air of gentle languor,
and together they wandered to the balustrade looking
out over the Thames, where the lights from the build-
ings on the opposite bank and from passing barges
glittered on the smooth-running dark surface of the
water.
" So you're going to stand for Parliament ? "
Rosamund said with a smile.
" Yes; do you think I'm a fool to do it ? "
"No; I think it's splendid of you. But--"
" But what ? "
"Well, somehow I don't imagine you'll be very
popular with the Party."
"Why not ? "
· " Because you'll make them think. They'll hate
that. I believe thinking really hurts them," she added
with a laugh that took the edge off the satire.
Kavanagh turned and looked at Rosamund's clear
profile, outlined against· the darkness of the sky, with
wondering curiosity. Was this· really the same
Rosamund he remembered long ago when they used
to play together as children in a London square ?
She used to be such a jolly little thing with her crop
of red-gold curls and laughing eyes-the beauty of the
garden. All the little boys adored her.
She was beautiful still, with a strange half-sad,
half-mocking beauty-flexible lips that curved up-
wards or drooped according to her mood, grey eyes
that still could laugh, but more often had a curious
veiled expression as if they had looked on things they
wished to see no more. What had happened to her
during all those years he had been away? Until his
2
return two months ago they had never met since she
was sixteen. Now she must be about twenty-eight.
Why had she never married ? He had heard that
she had been at college and was regarded as rather a
" highbrow " by her set. Somehow he felt that she
had passed through experiences which had left their
mark on her. What were they? He longed to
know.
"What ages ago it all seems! " he said, thinking
aloud. " I feel like Rip van Winkle coming back to
London and finding everything so changed. The
same things and people, but all so different. I can
hardly believe you're really little Rosamund
whom--" he stopped short with a smile. Dare he
remind her how they used to play at weddings, and how
they two were married in the summer-house by Jimmy
Brandon, dressed as a parson in one of the nursery-
maid's aprons? And he had twisted a purple crocus
round her finger for a ring. But evidently Rosamund
remembered, for she said with a laugh only faintly
tinged with embarrassment :
"We were terribly sentimental in those days,
weren't we ? Of course, at eight or ten one goes
through that phase."
" And gets it over ? The girls and boys to-day
certainly don't seem much troubled with sentiment
once they're grown up. Think of nothing but getting
from one place to another. All motion and no emo-
tions. I say, how's that for an epigram? "
" I think it's rather good. But perhaps they're
wise."
" D'you remember," Kavanagh went on after a
pause, still reminiscing, "the secret societies we use.d
to have in the garden ? One had to take a fearful
oath which made the others wild to know what it was
all about."
Had he imagined it, or did a shadow pass over her
face as he asked the question? She did not answer,
but turned it off by saying:
" I remember that you and Jimmy Brandon swore
eternal friendship and sealed it in blood by pricking
your fingers with a pin."
" So we did. Under the laurel bushes. Jimmy
and I were tremendous pals in those days-and
afterwards."
" Rather an odd boy, wasn't he ? "
"Well, perhaps being brought up abroad made him
different from the rest of us. Went to school at Stutt-
gart, I remember. Then was through the end of the
war and badly wounded. I haven't seen him since,
though we've written to each other. He was really
the best pal I ever had."
They were silent for a few moments. Then Kavan-
agh said, drawing nearer to Rosamund so that his
coat sleeve touched the smooth white arm resting on
the balustrade :
"I wonder what you're thinking about, Rosamund?
There's something Sphinx-like about you. We've
met quite often since I've been back in London, yet I
never seem to know you any better."
She smiled-just gently enough to give him courage
to go on.
" I feel," he said, "like someone standing in the
hall of a house they know. The rooms seem quite
familiar, bright and jolly, lit up by sunshine. But
somewhere in the house there's a room I've never been
into. I don't even know where it is. I only feel it's
there."
"Perhaps it's a haunted room."
She breathed rather than spoke the words, and
Kavanagh turning his head saw that her dark eyes
were full of terror, like a child's in the dark. He put
out his hand instinctively to clasp hers, but at that
moment the hearty voice of Sir Alfred Frensham
broke in behind them.
"Come along, you two, I want to introduce you to
some of my Labour friends."
And remorselessly he shepherded the errant couple
back to the flock.
The dinner-party had now gathered round a small
table for coffee and cigarettes, and Mrs. Bateman
was smiling prettily at the two Labour members Sir
Alfred had drawn into the group. Jos. Bagnall, of
the Miners' Federation, was beaming genially as his
thick fingers closed around the expensive cigar held
out to him by Oscar Franklin, but Hanley's tight
lips gave no hint of a smile as he declined the proffered
luxury. He was a teetotaller and non-smoker--0ne
of the rare ascetics of the Labour movement-
and after replying curtly to Lady Frensham's
overtures, moved away with scarcely concealed con-
tempt.
Kavanagh, watching his retreating form, observed
to Rosamund: "There goes a potential Robespierre.
He'd have us all guillotined without a qualm."
"Yes, that's why poor Lady Lutterworth keeps
on asking him to lunch with her in Belgrave Square.
She says if these people really want to cut off our
heads, we'd better make friends with them. But
Hanley never goes."
" I rather admire him for that. He's got the courage
of his opinions and observes the rules of warfare. No
fraternising between the trenches I After all, this

isn't a game."
"No. But our Party likes to think it is."
Suddenly Kavanagh heard himself greeted by a
cheery voice : "Why, Major, don't you remember
me? " And turning in its direction he saw a sturdy
figure in tweed taking a seat at his side.
"Hullo, Cragg, is it you? " he answered, grasping
the large hand held out to him. Could this really be
Tom Cragg, the gallant miner who had served under
him during the war? "By Jove, I'm glad to see you
again. But what are you doing here ? "
"Didn't you know? I'm Labour member for North
Warmshire now."
"The devil you are, Cragg. I always said you'd
get on. But not in this line of business I How d'you
like it ? "
" It's all right/' said Cragg unenthusiastically.
And pulling a somewhat foul pipe out of his pocket he
added: "No good expecting too much, is it ? "
" You don't believe in the Socialist millennium,
Cragg?"
" I don't know anything about millenniums, or
Socialism either, but I'd like to make the old country
a bit better than we found it,"
"WeU, we'd all like to do that."
"Aye, you would, Major. But what about the rest
of them ? " He drew his chair closer and said in a
low, confidential voice: "I can tell you, when I think
of the misery down there "-he jerked his head towards
the river-" in dockland, and up in the mines, and then
read in the papers about society at play-always at
play, whilst others can't get work, it makes me fairly
sick."
" Oh, I know the society papers are the best re-
cruiting organs for Socialism. But the poor fellows
who read them in the public libraries can't know that
the people who do nothing but play are only a very
small minority."
" And they can't know either that if we put all those
people in a lethal chamber to-morrow our class would
be no better off," Cragg answered with a grim smile.
"Still, there's something wrong somewhere."
"No doubt there's lots wrong-the trouble is, how
to alter it," said Kavanagh rather helplessly, wonder-
ing what more he could say. But Cragg saved him
the trouble of thinking out further arguments by say-
ing:
"Well, I must be off. Good night, Major."
" Good night, and I say, let's meet again. I'm
standing for Parliament too, you see. And though
we're on different sides, I'm sure we're both out for
the same cause. Perhaps we could help each other."
"That's right. I'll come along one day."
Kavanagh gave him his card and sat down again
wondering at himself. Only five minutes ago he had
said: "No fraternising between the trenches," yet
here he was palling up with a Labour member whom
somehow he could not regard as an enemy. Indeed,
he felt uncomfortably that he had more in common
with him than with the members of his own Party at
dinner, and that the few minutes' conversation with
Cragg had brought the first serious note into an evening
which, but for the presence of Rosamund, would have
been utterly futile and unprofitable.
But it was growing late ; the House had already
risen, and the party now broke up and made their
way through the long stone halls, almost in darkness,
to the entrance where a row of cars was waiting.
Into the most luxurious of these, an Isotta Fraschini,
driven by a negro chauffeur, stepped Oscar Franklin
and his son Isidore.
Meanwhile Kavanagh had managed to place himself
again by Rosamund and to see her into a taxi. As
she drove away he watched her face at the window,
looming like a white flower against the blackness of
the cab.
CHAPTER II
COMRADES
IN ARMS
MAJORTERENCEKAVANAGH was a young man whom

the world in general regarded as phenomenally lucky.
Tall, handsome, with charming manners, an un-
failing gaiety of temperament, inherited from his
Irish ancestors, he was as popular with men as with
women, and since, to crown all, he was the happy
possessor of a digestion that functioned perfectly,
he found the world a very pleasant place to live in.
If not born with a silver spoon in his mouth, he had
had one placed in it firmly at an age when he was able
to appreciate its value, for at thirty-five, after eighteen
years in the Army, he found himself the heir to an
uncle's estates in Mershire, and turned his back on
India to take up the peaceful life of a " country
gentleman."
But England, on closer acquaintance, seemed to
be far from peaceful, for the failure of succeeding
Governments to carry out their pledges had spread ·
an unsettled feeling throughout the country. Nobody
knew what was going to happen next; industry
and agriculture were hampered by the sense of inse-
curity, and recurring strikes added to the confusion.
Kavanagh, who had hitherto never taken any
particular interest in politics, wondered what had
happened to England. The general indifference to
all questions of national importance provided a striking
contrast with the state of the public mind when he
24
COMRADES IN ARMS 25
had left for the East soon after the war. Then the
idea of the Empire was uppermost in everyone's
thoughts, the men who had fought and died for it were
honoured, the cause for which they had sacrificed
themselves had seemed to be the noblest of all causes
-now the Great War was habitually referred to as a
sort of tragic blunder, in which a regrettably large
number of enthusiasts had thrown their lives away.
But in general people did not bother about these
questions at all-" sport," the theatre, cricket matches,
society scandals, these were the things that really
mattered, and anyone who took politics seriously
was regarded as a bore.
In normal times Kavanagh could readily have
slipped into the same pleasant and easy-going manner
of life. He had, however, seen too much of anti-
British agitation in India not to feel disturbed. So
when one day his late Colonel said to him: "Why
don't you go into Parliament? You're the sort of
fellow we want to counteract all the slush that's
talked there," Kavanagh felt it his duty to reply:
"Well, sir, if you think I ought to try and stand--
But politics are a dirty game."
" So they are. But if decent men won't go in for
them they'll never get any cleaner. It's up to you to
do what you can to save the Empire-it mayn't be
much, but every ounce of weight in the right scale
counts for something."
Accordingly, resisting his natural inclination to
settle down to farming and shooting in Mershire,
Kavanagh let the place for several years and wrote a
letter to the Chief Agent of the Conservative Party
saying he wished to stand for Parliament. The Chief
Agent replied promptly, fixing a date for an interview.
At the hour appointed Kavanagh, after waiting
twenty minutes on a hard leather seat, was shown
into a pleasant room looking out over the Houses of
Parliament, and found himself in the presence of a
stout man with a complacent, rubicund face, seated
at a large desk on which reposed an inkstand, a paper-
weight weighing down nothing, and a telephone.
George Bloxham, the newly appointed Chief Agent,
had recently been deputed to reorganise the Party
machine on business lines. Selected as a brilliant
organiser who had won his laurels in the wholesale
bacon trade, he was generally regarded as just the man
to restore Conservatism to its former vigour.
"Good morning," he said in business-like tones.
" Major Kavanagh, eh ? " he added, glancing at the
card handed him by his secretary.
"Yes. I want to stand for Parliament." And to
himself Kavanagh added: "But I don't want to
stand here. Why doesn't the fellow offer me a chair ? "
"H'm. Well, you see, we have a lot of applicants
-a terrible lot of applicants. How much could you
contribute to your election expenses ? "
"How much? Well, really I hadn't thought. I
suppose the whole if necessary. I'm not hampered by
any want of money."
Kavanagh was invited to sit down. The Chief
Agent now smiled genially.
" Come, that's talking. Have a cigar ? " And he
took a large gold case from his pocket, emitting a sigh
of relief the while.
"Thanks, I'll have a cigarette," said Kavanagh,
taking out his own case.
"You see, it's like this, Major. We've got to make
this place a paying proposition. When I took over,
COMRADES IN ARMS 27
the Party was hard up. Devilish hard up. People
weren't contributing as they used to. If only we
could raise about half a million for the next election
now--"
"But surely it isn't only money, it's work that
counts."
"Bless you, no, it's advertisement. Advertise
well, and you'll have the public with you. I'd like
you to see some of our new circulars, they're Ar.
Just the sort of stuff that goes down. But now about
your standing. D'you want a country constituency ? "
"I should like to stand for my own county, South
Mershire, if possible."
"I dare say that can be arranged. The present
member's getting on for eighty, and not likely to stand
again. We'll see what we can do about it. And you
really must see some of our publications. We've got
a first-rate man who used to write for the I.L.P.
under the name of ' Quizzer.' "
" Then he's turned Conservative ? "
" Oh, Lord, no, he's got no politics. But he knows
what'll catch the public."
And lifting the receiver of the telephone, he said
into it:
"Bring up some samples of our literature."
In a few minutes a young man with an East Euro-
pean profile returned with a bulky packet of literature.
" Now, have a look at these, Major," said Mr.
Bloxham, proudly spreading them out on the table.
"Snappy, aren't they? Just the thing to catch the
eye. 'Vote Conservative and save your bacon!'"
-it was evident that the Chief Agent's mind still harked
back lovingly to his last sphere of usefulness-" short
and to the point ! That's the kind of stuff to give
'em! Now these for the women, striking the homey
note. First rate, aren't they ? "
Kavanagh turned them over silently. There was a
pretty picture of an aged couple sitting over the fire,
and underneath in large lettering: "Vote Conservative
and grow old gracefully I " There was the Prime
Minister holding out a well-filled feeding bottle towards
a crowing infant. There was a steaming teapot
with the words: "The Conservatives took a half-
penny off the packet."
"One would. think," Kavanagh said to himself,
" that Conservatism was a sort of patent food-
' Sweet as cream, children like it I' 'Conservatism
builds bonnie babies I ' " Aloud he said, rising :
"Well, good morning, Mr. Bloxham. You'll let
me know about South Mershire, won't you ? "
And he shook the podgy hand held out to him.
As the swing doors closed behind him Kavanagh
realised that he felt absurdly damped by his reception.
Only half an hour ago he had pushed his way through
those portals, glowing with enthusiasm, eager to
renounce the life of ease and pleasure that might have
been his for the sake of what he held to be a great
and worthy cause-and now ? Was this really all
that happened when one offered one's services to the
Party ? Of course, he did not really want thanks ;
still,hewas making no small sacrifice in time and money,
surely some word of encouragement might have been
forthcoming ? Then he shook himself impatiently,
and reflected that this was childish. Were the Party
officials to fall on his neck and embrace him ? After
all, they were only officials ; it was the cause that
mattered.
And this was how Kavanagh came to start on the
COMRADES IN ARMS
slippery path of a political career, and to be present
at Lady Frensham's dinner-party as the candidate
for South Mershire. So far nothing had happened to
inspire him with greater enthusiasm for the Party.
Once inside it he had supposed that he would be
brought in touch with people interested in large
political questions, and he dined out hopefully at the
houses of leading Conservatives-to which, as a rich
and unattached young man, he received endless
invitations-always expecting that at any rate over
the port he would learn something more about. the
Party with which he had thrown in his lot. But no,
the conversation turned almost invariably on sport-
shooting, hunting-the newest make of motor-car,
or where to go for a pleasant holiday abroad.
Despairing of the Party, Kavanagh turned to the
independent patriotic societies, whose circulars poured
in on him always accompanied by requests for funds.
There was the" League of National Constitutionalists,"
and the " Union of Constitutional Nationalists,"
with almost identical programmes, but bitterly hostile
to each other ; there was the " British Dreadnoughts
League "-the inaugural meeting of which he had
attended years before when home on leave; then
there was the "League of Loyal Citizens," the "King
and Country Union," the "Home Front League,"
etc., etc. Kavanagh's head whirled as he tried to
disentangle them. All were apparently aiming at the
san;ie thing, all owned comfortable offices with a
secretary sitting at an enormous desk, and typewriters
clicking in the background. Kavanagh conscien-
tiously went the round of them, and left with bundles
of leaflets stuffed into his pockets-together with
subscription forms ready to fill in. Funds, more
funds-this was the burden of each secretary's song-
" if only we could raise £30,000 a year ! " The secre-
tary of the " British Dreadnoughts League " indeed
declared that nothing under a million a year would
meet the case. Precisely what was to be done with
these vast sums when collected no one seemed to have
time to think out-apparently mass conversions were
only a matter of pounds, shillings, and pence.
And so it happened that Cragg, the Labour back
bencher, was the first Member of Parliament who had
spoken seriously to Kavanagh about matters affecting
the fate of the nation.
Coming out of the House of Commons after the
Frenshams' dinner-party, Kavanagh looked up at the
stars and said :
"The night is yet young; I'll take a breather I"
He was still fresh enough to London to enjoy
walking through the streets at night, and cutting
across Parliament Square, he turned into Whitehall.
As he passed the Cenotaph he raised his hat at the same
moment as a man coming towards him, a man with
set white features which struck him as curiously
familiar.
" Hullo, Terence I "
"Jimmy I" Jimmy Brandon! Was it possible?
" I say, old fellow, this is extraordinary ! " he said,
grasping Brandon's outstretched hand. "I've been
talking about you only to-night with Rosamund Dare.
You remember her in the old days in the Square
garden? Isn't it odd the way one mentions some-
body one's lost sight of and then suddenly runs into
them?"
" Yes, ' speak of the devil and you see his horns ' -
as our Italian friends say."
COMRADES IN ARMS 3I
" Anyhow, it's good to see you again," said Kavanagh,
turning to walk by Brandon's side in the direction of
Victoria Street.
It must be sixteen years, he said to himself, since
they had met-in the spring of 1918 when both,
though only boys of nineteen, were war-time captains.
Then he had heard how Jimmy had been fearfully
wounded at Asiago, but had made a miraculous
recovery; after a while a pencil note in Jimmy's
handwriting had reached him. During all the years
that followed they had corresponded spasmodically,
but somehow had never succeeded in meeting : when
Kavanagh was home on leave Brandon happened to
be somewhere in the East of Europe, or when Brandon
was in London Kavanagh was in India. And since
Kavanagh had left the service he had been too much
occupied with taking over his estate and embarking
at the same time on a political career to follow up
personal friendships and find out Brandon's where-
abouts. But here was Jimmy in the flesh walking
beside him.
"By Jove, old chap," he repeated, "it's a bit of
luck meeting like this."
"Yes, it's grand," Brandon answered solemnly,
and his face formed into a sort of crease that puzzled
Kavanagh.
"I say, you might look more pleased to see a fellow;
smile, Jimmy, smile!"
"I never smile," said Brandon. "You remember
the poem we learnt at school ' He never smiled
again '-Henry II, wasn't it? Well, that's me,
Terence."
" What on earth do you mean ? D'you never
laugh either ? "
At Kavanagh's obvious bewilderment Brandon
emitted a wild hoot that made several passers-by
turn round in surprise.
Had poor Jimmy gone mad ? Perhaps the wound
had affected his brain. Kavanagh relapsed into an
embarrassed silence.
"No, Terence, I'm not mad," said Brandon, answer-
ing his friend's thoughts. "Come to my house, it's
close by, and we can have a talk in peace."
They walked on together until they reached a house
in Smith Square. "Here's where I live," said Bran-
don. And opening the door, he led the way into the
smoking-room on the ground floor.
"You've made yourself jolly snug, Jimmy," said
Kavanagh, sinking into the low saddle-bag beside the
fireplace and looking round at the old furniture,
Persian rugs, and paintings on the walls around him.
" I like your pictures. Who're they by ? "
Brandon struck an absurd attitude and bowed.
" Your humble servant to command," he said.
" What, Jimmy I Are they really your efforts ?
I didn't know you were such an artist. You used to
paint in the old days, I remember, but these are first
class."
" Oh, I'm a portrait painter now by profession-
didn't you know that ? I've got on quite well-well
enough to pick and choose my models a bit. I loathe
painting anybody with no points of interest. I see
you're looking at my picture of Mrs. Murray Bateman-
that's one of the best things I've done."
" Yes, it's extraordinary life-like. But what points
does Mrs. Bateman present? She's not a beauty-
beneath the paint and powder."
"You're right, she's no houri. But I said points of
COMRADES IN ARMS 33
interest, not beauty. I found Mrs. Bateman extra-
ordinarily interesting to paint."
And again Brandon's face creased in the odd way that
had struck Kavanagh on their meeting.
" Mrs. Murray Bateman certainly helped to cheer
things up at the Frenshams' dinner-party at the House
to-night. These Conservatives are heavy going,
Jimmy."
" I should think so. But what were you doing in
that galere. Politics usen't to be much in your line."
" No. But all the same, I'm going to stand for
Parliament."
" You don't mean it ? "
"Yes, seriously I am."
And Kavanagh launched forth into an account of
his recent activities in political circles. It was a relief
to talk to Jimmy, to tell him of his hopes and fears,
his longing to be of service to the country and the des-
pair that often seized him on meeting with blank
indifference from the very people to whom he had
looked for support.
"It's hard work trying to wake the British public
up to the Bolshevist danger. I've tried speaking at a
few London meetings, but it's always a case of preach-
ing to the converted. And one ends by stirring up
the wrong people-the ones who've absolutely .got
Bolshevism on the brain. There seems to be no
middle course between apathy and hysteria. You
can't think what a lot of lunatics there are about who
imagine the wildest things. If they'd only do some
real work one wouldn't mind ; instead of that they
pester one with letters that lead to nothing. Look
at these!" and Kavanagh drew out of his pocket a
bundle of envelopes hastily torn open. "That's a
3
pretty average sample of my post-reached me to-
night just as I was starting out and I looked into them
on my way to the House. Here's a retired R.E.
Colonel in the North who tells me he's been so alarmed
by the Bolshevist menace that he's leaving with his
whole family for an island in the South Pacific. Then
an old lady in Bath writes to assure me there's nothing
to worry about, as we're the lost ten tribes, so we're
bound to come out on top in the end. And someone
else sends a post card to say the Roman Catholics are
at the bottom of all the trouble and the Pope is having
poison put into her tea."
Kavanagh stuffed the bundle back into his pocket
and went on cheerfully :
"Well, I've talked enough about my affairs. What
about you, Jimmy? There's lots I want to know."
"Amongst other things, what's happened to my
smile, eh? Perhaps I'd better tell you all about it.
Have a drink? Sherry? Whisky ?:-0r better still,
old brandy, there's some first-rate 'seventy-eight
here ? You'll want it before I'm through. It's not a
pretty story."
And Brandon crossed over to a cupboard from which
he took a couple of glasses and a dusty bottle.
"Thanks," said Kavanagh, as Brandon filled a
glass and put it beside hiµi. "Now, fire away."
" You remember I was wounded at Asiago in the
Piave show in June nineteen-eighteen."
" Yes, in the head, weren't you ? "
"Not exactly. Whole face. A shell burst close
by me. Would you like to see what I looked like after
it? Take a good pull at that brandy and I'll show you."
Going to the writing table Brandon opened a drawer
and took a photograph out of an envelope.
COMRADES IN ARMS 35
" Sure you feel strong enough, old man ? "
Kavanagh nodded.
"Look at that, then."
And Brandon held the photograph towards him.
There was a moment of silence. Then Kavanagh
covered his eyes with his hand and put the photograph
face downwards on the table at his side.
"Good Lord! Jimmy," he murmured. "Good
Lord!"
It was the most ghastly thing he had ever seen-
what had once been the window of a human soul
reduced to the semblance of a gutted house-one
eye blown from its socket, a gaping hole beneath,
lips, nose torn asunder, teeth gone, a limply hanging
jaw beneath that chasm-it was terrible. Even as
he thought of it he shuddered.
But a laugh, that same strange hooting laugh that
Brandon had given vent to in the street, roused
him:
"I don't look pretty, do I? Not the sort of
portrait to give one's best girl, eh ? But buck up,
old chap, you see there's nothing much wrong with
me now, is there? "
"No," said Kavanagh, coming back with relief to
the present, "you've changed a bit, of course, but
still, it's you all the same. How on earth did they
put you together again ? "
"Well, I was taken prisoner-shoved into an
Austrian hospital, and finally sent to Vienna. There
are marvellous surgeons there, you know, and plastic
surgery's been reduced to a fine art. They understand
face building as none of our fellows do-face lifting
too, by the way. There are hardly any old-looking
women in Vienna, they all have their faces lifted and
look young at sixty-it's amazing. I don't know if
they'd have taken so much trouble about mine if it
hadn't been for a bit of luck. There happened to be
an Austrian orderly in the hospital I'd done a good
tum to in the war, and like a decent chap he spoke
up about it, so that a great swell in that line, fellow
called Zinzenberg, took a special interest in me. Bit
by bit he built my face up with those marvellous
fingers of his until at last he'd made me something
like myself again. Months went by, and when the war
was over I stayed on to remain in Zinzenberg's hands
as long as possible. When at last I saw myself in the
glass almost exactly as I'd been before, it seemed
unbelievable."
Brandon paused, lit a fresh cigarette, and went on
again.
" But there was one thing even Zinzenberg couldn't
do. He couldn't make me smile. You understand,
the muscles had been too much damaged ever again
to do the lifting job that makes one's face work.
My lips will stretch outwards, but they can't curve
upwards-see ? " And Brandon executed the odd
crease that had puzzled Kavanagh. "So you must
take that for a smile, old fellow-it's meant as such."
"I understand." Kavanagh was silent for a
moment and then said : " You never told me a word
about all this in your letters."
" Oh, there was nothing to make a song about. I
wanted to forget about it as soon as possible. I only
told you to-night because you wondered why I looked
so wooden when we met."
" I'm awfully sorry, old chap. I didn't understand.
It was stupid of me."
"Not a bit. Quite natural. And I don't mind
COMRADES IN ARMS 37
talking to you about it. Besides, as you see, it all
came right in the end."
"Yes. Only you had to leave the Army? "
" I didn't have to." Brandon paused a moment
and then went on : " I found a life that suited me
better."
" Painting ? "
Brandon hesitated for a fraction of a second before
answering:
"Oh, painting and roaming about-all over the
Continent, the Near East, Egypt, and so on. In all
sorts of queer out-of-the-way places."
And then Brandon went on to talk of his travels,
painting word-pictures of the races he had studied and
the curious people he had met, with a vividness of touch
that enthralled his friend.
Big Ben was striking two o'clock when Kavanagh
made his way out of the house.
CHAPTER Ill
THE DOUBLELIFE OF JAMES BRANDON
KAVANAGHreturned cheered to his rooms in Half
Moon Street. It was splendid running into Jimmy
like this, although he had changed since the old days.
Perhaps that was hardly to be wondered at considering
all he had gone through. And then the years he had
spent wandering about the Continent and speaking
foreign languages no doubt accounted for his rather
curious diction, not exactly pedantic, but different from
the dipped words and slangy phrases to which Kav-
anagh was accustomed in the regiment. Talked
rather like a book, did Jimmy. Funny, too, his setting
up as a portrait rainter I But he was always a bit of a
dreamer-had more of the artistic temperament than
most soldiers. And he had been a soldier for such a
short time. Kavanagh determined not to lose sight
of him again, and a few days later dropped in on him
before dinner.
" Well, and how are you getting on with the Party ? "
Brandon asked as they settled down for a talk.
" I don't know that I am getting on. There seems
to be some sort of queer opposition that one comes up
against at every turn-almost as if they didn't want
one to be too keen."
" H'm. You feel that, do you ?"
"Yes, definitely. But I don't know why I should
bother you with it. You don't go in for politics, do
you? "
THE DOUBLE LIFE OF JAMES BRANDON 39
"No. But I'm interested in what you're saying.
Go on, Terence."
"Well, if I'm not boring you, there are a lot of things
that are puzzling me."
"For example?"
"First of all then," and Terence began ticking off
his points on his fingers, "the sort of way fellows seem
to lose all their guts when they get into Parliament.
I've known some of them before, keen as mustard,
full of fight and of what they'd do when they got in,
and now they're there they'd hardly fight a mouse, let
alone a Bolshevik. But then "-passing on to his
next finger-" there's this odd want of resistance to
Bolshevism everywhere. When one's seen what I
have out in India-agitators of the Red Flag Union
financed by the Soviet Government, Bolshevist propa-
ganda going on in the bazaars-it's inconceivable we
should do nothing to stop it there, and next to nothing
here. The Conservative Party doesn't seem to worry
and the independent societies say they can't raise the
funds. Why ? If Bolshevism is really a war against
Capitalism, why doesn't Capitalism defend itself ?
Why doesn't it organise its forces ? If it had been
discovered that a gang of burglars had planned to
carry out a series of raids on City offices, wouldn't the
City see to it jolly quickly that its safes were pro-
tected? Wouldn't it at least take out insurance
policies? Yet here, where it's a case of not merely
burgling safes, but of collaring the whole wealth of the
country, the City sits tight and does nothing."
"No, even though it's seen the coup brought off in
another country. The Russian crown jewels sold under
its nose I"
"Just so. The City doesn't even bother to put up
funds as an insurance. All the money's on the other
side. That's the third thing that's been puzzling me.
Where on earth does it come from ? Soviet Russia
says it can't pay its debts and has to be allowed credits.
Yet its propaganda can be carried out at vast expense
all over the world. It can finance newspapers-
dailies, weeklies, monthlies-organise meetings, cine-
mas, shows of all kinds, run societies, and so on in
every country. The cost of it must be something
gigantic.. And we're told all this money comes from
Russia. How is it possible ? "
" No, as the French say, 'cela ne tient pas debout.' "
" And it certainly can't come out of the workers'
pockets. So where does it come from ? I've asked
that question often and nobody can answer it. They
don't seem to want to answer it."
"Ah, you've noticed that?" Brandon said, looking,
as Kavanagh thought, rather queer.
After that evening the two friends met continually,
and somehow Kavanagh began to gain the impression
that keen as he was to see Brandon, Brandon was even
keener to see him-not only out of friendship. There
seemed to be something else ; it was almost as if
Brandon were watching him, sizing him up in some
way. What for ?
Kavanagh decided at last to ask him frankly.
"Look here, Jimmy," he said one evening, " I've
got a feeling that whilst we're talking about all sorts of
things you've got some idea at the back of your mind-
something that you're keeping to yourself. It's
almost as if you're watching me I " he added with
a laugh.
But Brandon made no disclaimer. Instead, to
Kavanagh's surprise, he answered quietly:
" Well, as a matter of fact, you're right. I have
been watching you."
"By Jove, Jimmy, this is a bit thick, considering
how long we've known each other," Kavanagh said
with some annoyance in his voice.
"Yes; but we haven't met for ages. Men change in
fifteen years, Terence. And, after all, we were only
boys in the old days when we were pals."
And seeing the cloud still on Kavanagh's face he
went on:
" Look here, you mustn't mind, old chap. The fact
is, the whole thing's so terribly important. One
mustn't risk the slightest mistake. And I wanted to
be dead sure of you before saying anything."
" This is very mysterious. But I think you can
trust me not to talk, whatever it is."
"Yes, I believe I can. You see, I've watched you
to some purpose, Terence. And from little tests I've
put you to without your noticing it-don't be huffy
now !-I see that you can be close if necessary."
"Close as a clam. Of course I won't breathe a word
of anything you tell me."
" Right. Then I can go ahead. From all you've
told me since that evening we first met about your
political experiences, I've seen that you were up against
it. And that, apart from our old friendship, made me
want to see more of you. I felt we could help each other.
So I determined to watch you, to find out whether I
could let you into the secret of my life-my double life
as one might call it. For painting is only camouflage
for my real work."
" Go on, Jimmy, this is interesting."
'' Well. I'll begin at the beginning. You remember
how I used to love detective stories ? "
"Yes; you were always deep in some great murder
mystery."
"Well, but there are more exciting things than
mere vulgar murders, based on lust or greed or revenge.
There are great mysteries that need the brain of the
criminologist to solve, far more thrilling than anything
Edgar Wallace ever devised. These are the problems
it's worth while tackling-and devoting one's whole
life to unravelling."
" You mean--? "
"The hidden causes of the world's events."
"Good Lord I" Kavanagh was decidedly startled.
Brandon went on :
"During the war I always longed to do secret service
work, and when my Colonel-' old Bronx,' you know
-was put on to it he'd have liked to take me into the
show. But for one thing I was too young-only
twenty at Asiago when I was wounded, and for another
thing Bronx came to the conclusion he couldn't make
much use of me. You see, any really observant person
could always pick me out of a crowd before I was
wounded. My eyes were of two different colours-
one brown, one grey." Brandon stopped, and com-
prehension slowly dawned on Kavanagh.
" You mean, if you called yourself Brandon one day
and Snooks the next you'd never have a chance of
getting away with it?"
"Something of that sort. Anyway, the war changed
that."
"How?"
" By blowing out one of my eyes-the grey one-
as you saw in the photograph."
" You don't mean to say that one of your eyes is
sham ?" asked Kavanagh, looking at his friend in
amazement. "They both look absolutely real."
Brandon nodded. " Marvellous, isn't it ? But the
left, the grey one, is glass all the same!" And he tapped
it lightly with a paper-knife, which emitted a most
convincing clink. "Naturally they might build my
face up again, but they couldn't put my own eye back.
So I had an idea I I was careful, you see, to have it
replaced in Vienna by a grey one exactly like it so, as
no one at home knows I have lost my eye, I appear to
be still, as I was before, a fellow with different-coloured
eyes. But after I came back to England I went to an
obscure optician in Bath and ordered a spare eye to be
made, brown this time, to match the one I have left.
In this way, at any moment I can put in the brown eye
and apparently have both eyes the same colour. You've
no idea how it changes one, especially if someone is on
the look out for a man with eyes that don't match."
"By Jove, Jimmy; what an ingenious idea! "
" Yes, but that was not all the bursting shell did for
me. As I was having, so to speak, a new face made,
I didn't see why I shouldn't have it fitted with a few
gadgets so as to be able to change it at will. My teeth
were smashed up too and had to be replaced by a false
set, together with pads to fill my face out where it had
been battered in. This, as you see, was done so
cleverly as to make me almost like my old self. But
by means of different sets of teeth, with more or less
padding, I can alter my appearance entirely-it's
extraordinary the difference that teeth can make !
So, you see," he ended with a laugh, " it's an ill wind
that blows no one any good and even a German shell
may bring one luck."
"But, after all, you didn't go -into the Secret Ser-
vice? "
"No," said Brandon slowly, " I didn't go into the
Secret Service. I hit on something that interested me
far more. It struck me that what we call the Secret.
Service must be very limited in its scope. And I've
found out since that I was right. I don't say that its
work is not of enormous interest or that its methods of
obtaining information are not marvellous. I'm sure
they are. But the information it desires relates
entirely to current events. It is merely of the kind
to interest the Departments concerned. The War
Office wants to know what kind of guns are being
manufactured in Paraguay or Poland, or what military
preparations are being made in Soviet Russia simply
with a view to future hostilities and the efficiency of
our own military machine. The Home Office enquires
about a certain person merely to judge whether he is
fit to be let into the country. It is not the business of
the Secret Service to enquire into the motives or hidden
causes of the world's events. It is not concerned with
speculation ; only with concrete facts. It has never
attempted to build up a consecutive theory by studying
the origin of world movements, for the past doesn't
exist for it ; it wants to know what is happening now
at the actual moment and what is consequently likely
to happen in the next few weeks. And yet the past is
the key not only to the present but the future I What
can we know of what is happening in the world to-day
unless we enquire into causes that have their roots not
only in the past but in the remote past ?
" This is what I've set myself to study. I wanted
to find out why things happen, to understand the causes
of events that seem to us incomprehensible, to dis-
cover the secret springs that move men to action or the
forces that bind them in inaction. I wanted to under-
stand the reason for the crises that periodically arise
in the world-political, economic, or social-that seem
to occur without any specific cause. I wanted above
all to know who are the real rulers of the world
pulling the strings from behind the scenes.
"You wonder what set me on this track? Well, it
was partly a fellow I met in Vienna, a man who had
once been a Communist and mixed with all the ' Reds '
in London and New York. He told me he went into
it more out of a spirit of enquiry than from any settled
convictions. He simply wanted to find out if there
was anything in it, and came at last to the conclusion
that Communism was not the real thing, that, in a word,
there was something behind it all he could never
discover. That was what set me thinking, and I
determined to find out all I could about the origins of
the movement that was convulsing the whole civilised
world. So I began to read. During the years that
followed on the war I travelled from city to city,
reading in all the great libraries of Europe-in Paris,
in Berlin, in Rome, in Prague-and at the same time
talking to everyone I met in restaurants, cafes, or
railway trains. It's amazing how much information
one can pick up in that way."
"Good heavens, old man, do you talk all these
languages?" interposed Kavanagh.
"Oh, well, I was brought up in Germany, you see,
so I could pass as a German quite easily. French I
knew of course-had a French governess as a kid.
But it meant mugging up a few others. Russian,
Polish, Spanish, and so on. No brains required for
that-thousands of waiters do it. After a while I took
up painting again, which made an excellent excuse for
moving from one place to another-sitting about at
street corners or in village squares and getting into
talk with passers-by. No one suspects an artist of
any ulterior purpose.
" I was lucky, too, in having a perfectly priceless
servant called Rigby-the fellow who opens the door
when you come here. He has an extraordinary flair
for sleuth work, and, as he's half French and was
a prisoner in Germany, he's a pretty good linguist.
Picked up some Italian, too, when I was painting in
Venice.
"Well, Rigby and I had all sorts of adventures
together, and when I came back at last to England I'd
got the hang of the whole thing in my mind. Then
I came into touch with some of the Secret Service
people-excellent fellows, most of them, but bound
by routine. At the same time, they had sources of
information inaccessible to me-Good Lord ! what
revelations they could make if only they'd go through
some of their old files and the records in Government
offices for the last fifty or hundred years I But it's
nobody's business to do that, as I said-it's only the
last fortnight that counts. I shouldn't be surprised
if some of the most important documents had gone
long ago into the departmental waste-paper basket I
They've no idea of the value of a lot of their stuff.
During the past five years whilst we've worked in co-
operation-for I keep in touch-I've seen reports that
meant nothing to them, but which from my point of
view were absolutely priceless."
" In that case," said Kavanagh," it's pretty dreadful
to think of all this information not being utilised."
"Publicity's of course the last thing they want.
Their information is only for their Departments, not
for the benefit of the world. The Press can mislead the
country to any extent and the Secret Service lies low
and says nothing. It's not their business to enlighten
public opinion. That's where the further difference
between their work and mine comes in."
" Then what use do you mean to make of it in the
end, Jimmy ? "
"I mean to go on working until I've been able to
build up a whole consecutive theory which will explain
a great deal that's happening in the world to-day.
And when I've done that and the last bit of evidence
has been collected, I mean to give it the widest
publicity. Till that moment comes I've got to lie low
and maintain the strictest secrecy."
" I understand. But you've taken on a gigantic
task. Is it really possible? When do you expect to
get done-if ever ? "
"Who can say? There are links still missing, links
that may take years to find. The great problem that
occupies me night and day is the identity of the indi-
viduals behind the movement. Do you remember what
Rathenau said : ' Three hundred men, all acquainted
with each other, control the economic destiny of the
Continent ' ? But what about twelve men who control
the destiny, not only economic, of the whole world ? "
" You think there are twelve ? "
" I'm nearly sure of it. But more of that another
time-it's a long story. Still, perhaps what I've told
you to-night may help you to understand what you're
up against. You realise already that things aren't
what they seem, that entering political life isn't plain
sailing, and that, as you said, the strongest opposition
you meet with comes from your own side. You've
found out, too, that Bolshevism isn't a war of the
Have-nots against the Haves, a plot to do away with
all Capitalism-otherwise the whole Capitc).list world
would have organised a united front against it and
nipped it in the bud at the beginning."
"Yes, that's exactly the conclusion I'd come to."
" Which of course makes you very dangerous to
the other side. People like General Brighorn and the
cartoonists in the popular Press who represent the
Bolshevist regime as being run by a lot of hairy
moujiks are doing it no harm. On the ·contrary,
they're helping it by keeping up the fiction that,
however misguided, it's a genuine working-class
movement. But once you say, or even find out,
anything about what's really at the back of it all, 'you
can do it enormous damage. That's ·why you find
yourself up against it. And that's why I determined
to let you into my secret."
Kavanagh sat still and thought hard. After a few
moments he turned to Brandon, who was obviously
moved by the intensity of his own feelings towards
his self-imposed task and was staring moodily out of
the window.
"I'm very glad you've told me this, Jimmy,'' he
said. " I believe we could help each other. All
you've described explains a great deal I couldn't
understand before."
And to himself Kavanagh added : " It explains
Jimmy, too. Now I see why he talks in the way he
does-if he's been reading for years in the libraries
of Europe, no wonder he talks rather like a book."
Aloud he said :
"I suppose you must have a tremendous collection
of data somewhere ? "
" Of course. Like to see it ? Come upstairs then."
Brandon led the way up to a door on the second
floor of the house and opened it with a Yale key.
Inside was a room completely lined with steel shelves
and cupboards ; the former filled with books and pam-
phlets in a number of different languages; the latter,
resembling large safes, provided with special locks.
Opening one of these, Brandon disclosed a pile of
documents, neatly arranged and labelled.
"The collection of fourteen years," he said, pointing
to the row of these steel cupboards. "Notes, reports,
photographs, dossiers of people everywhere-all co-
ordinated by this "-and he indicated a vast card
index also contained in locked steel drawers.
"No one except Rigby is allowed into this room,"
he explained. " This is where I sit quietly and do
my real work."
"Like a human spider in his web!" laughed
Kavanagh. "Spinning a network that reaches all
over the world."
"Yes, but unfortunately frail, like a real spider's
web-made only of theories. What can it do against
the golden web spun by the monstrous human spiders
that govern the world ? "
4
CHAPTER IV
AN EVENTFUL WEEK-END
AFTER this Kavanagh's life began to take on more

colour. Up till the night of the dinner-party at the
House of Commons it had seemed to him strangely
drab for all its outward gaiety. The people he had
met in Society were no more than shadows, or rather
animated puppets all repeating the same catch phrases
and machine-made opinions turned out for them by
politicians or the Press. But now when his brain was
in need of exercise he had only to turn into the house in
Smith Square and launch into long discussions with
Jimmy Brandon on the most enthralling world-
problems. In other moods he looked up Rosamund
and took her to the play, the opera, or up the river.
And though she still mystified him, he felt he was
gradually getting nearer to her, breaking down the
wall that seemed to stand between them.
One afternoon he came back to his rooms to find
Tom Cragg, M.P., on his doorstep.
"You told me to look you up, Major," he said, "so
here I am."
"Yes, come in and have a drink and smoke. I'm
glad to see you," said Kavanagh, leading the way in.
" How do you think things are going in the House ? "
he went on as they sat down and lit up.
But Cragg was not communicative. Never a man
of many words, he seemed to-day to have become
unaccountably silent. Kavanagh began to wonder
50
AN EVENTFUL WEEK-END 51
why he had come at all if he could do nothing but pull
at his pipe and say " That's right " to everything.
Could it be that he was diffident of opening out to his
one-time superior officer? Kavanagh did his best
to put him at his ease, talking of the political situation
and the need for-men with courage to face the dangers
threatening the country.
"That's right," Cragg said again, taking his pipe out
of his mouth to speak and instantly putting it back
again as soon as he had emitted his habitual rejoinder.
" Well now, Cragg, tell me what you really think
about things," Kavanagh said at last almost in des•
peration, determined to say something that could not
be met by this inevitable reply.
But this, time Cragg was perfectly silent, keeping
his pipe in his mouth and looking straight in front of
him out of the window. Then' suddenly he removed
the pipe, tapped it out, put it back in his pocket, and
leant forward.
"Look here, Major," he said. '' If I say something,
you won't let it get back to the Party ? "
" To the Labour Party ? Of course not."
"Well then, it's like this. I'm afraid."
"Afraid of what ? " Kavanagh asked in surprise.
"You usen't to be afraid of anything."
" Oh, not for myself, Major; for the old country.
When I went into Parliament I thpught I could do my
bit to help it. But I find I can't. There's some-
thing--" he paused.
" You're up against it too ? Like many of us,"
Kavanagh added.
"That's just it. Up against it. And I don't know
what it is. There's something behind it all I can't
make out."
" Behind the Labour Party ? "
"Aye. That's it. Something pushing it-from
behind. Several of us feel that, but we daren't say
anything."
"I think we're all in the same boat, Cragg. There's
something behind all Parties. It's odd you should
feel it too."
" Well, that's what I wanted to say to you," Cragg
said, getting up and holding out a horny hand. " Now
I'll be going. Glad to have had this talk with you,
Major."
And with a nod he went his way.
"It's interesting he should have said that," Brandon
remarked when Kavanagh told him of the conversation.
" I've always felt that if one could convince any
politicians of what's going on in the background, it
would be some of the Labour Party back benchers.
They're nearer to realities than the Conservatives or
Liberals. Get Cragg to come here one day and bring
some of his pals who think as he does. I'd like to have
a talk with them."
Kavanagh had no difficulty in arranging this. Five
Labour Party back benchers, including three miners,
led by Cragg, assembled one evening in Brandon's
studio. But the meeting led to nothing definite.
There were the same silences whilst the men smoked
and drank copious draughts of beer and answered
" That's right "to nearly everything. Even Brandon's
skilful questioning could elicit little more than Cragg
had said on his first visit to Kavanagh-that they
were disappointed, had hoped to be able to do some-
thing for the country, to help their mates, and so on,
but were always side-tracked on to something different
-foreign questions and so on. There seemed to be
something behind it all; they all felt that, but couldn't
say what it was.
"We're not out to help the Russians or the Germans,"
said one," we're out to help British workers."
"And all this talk of the German fellow Marx,"
said another. "Dead long ago, isn't he?" he added,
turning to Brandon.
" Yes. Karl Marx died somewhere about 1883."
"Then what's he to us? " answered the first man.
" Let's get on with our own job, that's what I says."
This remark met with a chorus of agreement. Then
another silence fell on them.
"That's the worst of the British working man,"
Brandon said after they had gone, " as sound and honest
as you like, but quite ignorant of politics and complet~ly
inarticulate. The sounder they are, the less they'll
talk. It's only the wrong 'uns who've got the gift
of the gab."
"I don't believe they've got anything more to say,"
said Kavanagh. "These fellows just feel in their bones
there's some queer power behind them, but can't under-
stand what it is."
"And haven't the initiative to find out or to do
anything if they did find out. I'm afraid we shan't
make anything out of them, Terence."
" No. It's a pity, for they're in deadly earnest.
Take politics more seriously than our people."
"Yes, it's their whole life. No week-ends and golf
to take their minds off."
" That reminds me," said Kavanagh, " I've been
asked for a week-end by Mrs. Murray Bateman to meet
the Prime Minister. Shall I go ? "
" By all means. Mrs. Murray Bateman's movements
are always worth following."
" And I suppose I oughtn't to miss a chance of
meeting Parbury, as I'm going to stand."
But perhaps the fact that Rosamund Dare was to
be in the party weighed more than duty in Kavanagh's
mind.
Accordingly, Friday afternoon found him at Water-
lop, with his luggage, trying to spot a newspaper boy
with a late edition which might be expected to give
the result of the Middlesbrough by-election. Middles-
brough was a key position for the Conservative Party,
and up to the 1929 election had been regarded as an
absolutely safe seat, but the mill girls' vote had seriously
lowered the Tory majority, and even the Party organ-
isers had shown some concern lest this time it should
pass out of their hands altogether.
Ah! There was a newspaper boy.
" Got a late edition ? "
"Get it in a minute, sir, there's one just coming in."
The train was moving out as the boy thrust the
paper in at the window. Kavanagh glanced hastily
at the stop press.
"By Jove, we've lost it I" he said to himself. Yes,
there it was , in black and white-Labour majority
2,100, and Archbold, one of the best men in the Con-
servative Party, down and out. It was a tragedy.
Kavanagh felt impelled to utter some expletive, but
the only other occupant of the carriage was a soldierly
looking man of about sixty who was apparently com-
posing himself to sleep. Putting down his paper,
Kavanagh sat looking out of the window at the peace-
ful scenes of country life that flashed past his eyes.
Happy, yes, still happy England! Haymakers en-
camped in circles with hearty teas spread out before
them; rosy children rolling in the hay; gardens filled
with gay flowers; men in white flannels playing
cricket on the village green ; motors ; farm-carts ;
bicycles thronging along the roads between green
hedges-why should there be people anxious to destroy
this kind old country ? . Of course in the background,
and in the big cities, there was the misery of which Tom
Cragg had spoken-there were the mounting figures of
unemployment-yet what were these but bad patches
in a fair garden that must be done away with in cour~e
of time? Kavanagh glowed to think that he himself
might have some hand in the creation of a better-a
still better-England.
After a while he turned again to look at his travelling
companion. Who was he ? Somehow his features
seemed vaguely familiar. Where had he seen him
before ? Surely on a platform-at some public meet-
ing? Suddenly it all came back to him. Of course.
He was General Brighorn, President of the British
Dreadnoughts League, who had spoken at the great
Queen's Hall meeting in 1925 that was to inaugurate
the new movement to sweep Britain clean of Bol-
shevism. Kavanagh remembered how the General's
entry had stirred all that vast audience so that it rose as
one man to hail his advent on the platform and again to
roar" He's a jolly good fellow" as he resumed his seat
after his address. That was years ago. What had
happened to the League now? Was there anything
left of that great movement it promised to become
except a dusty office in Victoria Street, a harassed
secretary eternally sending out appeals for funds, and
an anremic clerk who handed out pamphlets with a
listless air. And there was also General Brighorn
slumbering in the corner of a first-class railway carriage.
"Doesn't even bother to look at a paper!" thought
Kavanagh despairingly. But he was wrong. After
a while the General opened his eyes, and taking up a
copy of the Daily Telegraph,proceeded to turn the pages,
folded them backwards, and settled down to read.
"Good. He's sitting up and taking notice. Better
still, he's actually taking notes." For the General,
after an impatient search in seven pockets, had drawn
out a pencil and was making careful marks on the paper
he held up before him. Kavanagh looked at him hope-
fully and caught his eye fixed on him. Should he
speak ? But the General forestalled him :
" What is a canine ailment that is half a pudding ? "
he said dreamily. And he pointed to the half-filled-in
square of a crossword puzzle.
"So that's what he was doing!" thought Kavanagh.
" It would be funny if it were not so tragic. But it is
funny," he added to himself, for he was not an Irishman
for nothing, and he burst into a shout of laughter.
The General looked astonished.
"Excuse me, sir," said Kavanagh, "but your ques-
tion really rather took me by surprise ! "
" My question ? I didn't ask you any question ! "
" You asked me what was ' a canine ailment that
was half a pudding.' I conclude it's a clue in your
crossword ? "
" Dear, dear. Did I really ? I must have been
thinking out loud. It's a way I have sometimes.
Well, as I did ask you, perhaps you can supply the
answer?"
" Certainly. I can do that in one. Mange, of
course."
"Mange? How do you make that out? Ah,
blancmange. Of course. Half a pudding. Yes, yes.
Very quick on your part. You seem to be a crossword
expert. Do you do much of it ? "
"No. I can't say I do, except when a young nephew
of mine comes to spend a half-holiday with me. Fact
is, I'm standing for South Mershire, so I've a good
many other things to think of-my name's Kavanagh,
by the way. This is a bad thing about Middlesbrough,''
he added.
"Middlesbrough? Have we lost Middlesbrough? "
" Yes ; with a drop of five thousand votes. The
Labour Party are in with a majority of over two
thousand." ·
"Dear me, that's unfortunate. What I always say
is, that what we're up against is apathy. That's the
trouble-apathy. One feels it everywhere."
Kavanagh smiled. "How are the British Dread-
noughts getting on, General? You see, I know who
you are. I was at that meeting in the Queen's Hall
nine years ago and heard you speak. It promised to
be a fine movement."
General Brighorn sighed. "Ah yes, but the trouble
has always been the funds. If we could have raised
the money--"
" I thought you raised a good deal."
"No, no. A mere matter of thirty thousand pounds.
What can you do with that? Now, if we could only
raise half a million we might do something. Perhaps
you could help us in this way, Mr.-er-er."
"Major Kavanagh." And scenting that the General
was about to touch him for a cheque which he was not
in the least inclined to contribute, he added hastily :
" Doesn't it rather depend on what one does with the
money one collects ? "
"Perhaps, perhaps," General Brighorn answered
impatiently. He had evidently had enough of the
subject and was longing to get back to his crossword.
" Are you going by any chance to stay with the Bate-
mans? "he asked abruptly.
"Yes."
"Ah, then we shall have further opportunities for
conversation ! " And nodding genially the General
took up his paper again and continued filling in the
squares. That word "mange" had enabled him to
finish all the right-hand corner, and by the time the
train drew up at Lingford Station only one more word
was needed to make the puzzle complete.
Mrs. Murray Bateman's small house-party turned out

to consist of no less than twenty guests, including
besides the Prime Minister, the new German Charge
d'Affaires, Lady Caroline Wentlock-a leading Con-
servative hostess-and several other prominent
members of the Party. Most of them had arrived by
car and were finishing tea when Kavanagh and General
Brighorn were shown into the lounge-hall, where Mrs.
Murray Bateman sat ensconced behind a large silver urn.
After gre·eting his hostess, Kavanagh looked round
quickly for Rosamund. Ah ! there she was, dressed
in a cool summer frock, dropping bits of cake into the
mouth of a small wire-haired terrier that, with the
saintly expression of his kind, sat gazing up into her
face.
" So you see I've obeyed the call of duty to meet the
Prime Minister," Kavanagh said, sitting down beside
her.
"I hope you'll be rewarded. Mr. Parbury," she
went on, dropping her voice discreetly, "is in his most
rustic mood. He's been round the home farm already."
Kavanagh looked across the room to where the great
man stood, lighting his pipe, on the hearthrug, sur-
rounded by a respectful circle.
" Ah, Alfred," he was saying to his host, " you're
lucky to be able to stay down here as long as you like-
no hurrying back to town for you on Monday morning.
There's no place like the Sussex Weald, I always say.
If only one could settle down here in peace and watch
the sheep all day browsing on the hill-sides I "
"Let's go out into the garden," said Kavanagh to
Rosamund, who got up languidly. Together they
wandered along the smooth grass paths between blazing
herbaceous borders.
" The P.M.'s right," Kavanagh said after a pause,
"the country is the place at this time of year."
"Do you think so? I'd rather be in London."
"For society? I didn't know you were so fond of it."
"No, not for society. But--" she hesitated, then
said hurriedly: "The country leaves one too much
time to think. One must have a mind perfectly at rest
to enjoy peace and quiet." And seeing a question
springing to Kavanagh's lips, she added with a laugh:
"Like Mr. Parbury, for example! His mind always
lies on a sofa of comfortable thoughts.''
" Yes, and hardly ever puts its feet to the ground. I
wonder whether he'd really like to watch sheep all
day?"
"No. I think even he would be bored by the end
of an hour or two. But it's the thing just now for
politicians of all Parties to make out that their real
interests are either rural or literary or artistic-'--any-
thing rather than political. They bear ' the burden of
office ' from a pure sense of duty whilst yearning all the
while to flee from public life to some calm retreat where
they can pursue their real avocations in peace.''
6o THE SECRET OF THE ZODIAC
" The old pose of musical comedy stars ! " laughed
Kavanagh. "They always liked to have themselves
photographed for the society papers in sunbonnets,
making hay or weeding their garden as a piquant con-
trast to the artificiality of their stage appearances."
" Well, now the fashion has spread to the political
world. Haven't you noticed the Press is always
featuring the Home Secretary fondling his favourite
pig, or the Leader of the Opposition as a Red Indian
at a Labour Party fancy-dress ball? "
" I suppose the idea is to make the public feel these
exalted beings are human after all-just men like
themselves, lovable creatures at heart ! "
" Yes, and that it's really very kind of them to bother
about affairs of State when they'd so much rather be
doing something pleasanter."
"Still, it would be rather nice for a change to have
a Prime Minister who liked being one instead of longing
to be a farmer. There must be lots of farmers who'd
like to be Prime Minister. It seems rather a waste of
opportunity."
The same evening in the smoking-room at cocktail
time Kavanagh was introduced to his Chief.
"Glad to welcome you to the Party, Major
Kavanagh," Mr. Parbury said, extending his hand
genially. "I hope things are going well in South
Mershire ? "
"Yes, sir. Only there's a good deal of headway to
make up. The present member has let things go to
sleep a bit, whilst the Socialist candidate is always
active. He was a conscientious objector in the war,
by the way."
"Ah, w~ll ! But be careful to avoid personalities.
I understand you're a bit of a Die-hard, Kavanagh.
So let me give you a word of advice. Don't be carried
away by your enthusiasm. Cultivate the team spirit.
Learn to subordinate your private feelings to Party
principles. Loyalty to Party, that comes first with
us. And of course, loyalty to your leaders. Be ready
to be guided by them, to trust their judgment."
Kavanagh listened respectfully. It was evident
that he was to be merely a cog in the Party machine,
a patient rotating cog on the wheel turned by the
master hand of Nelson Parbury.
" But don't you think, sir," he ventured to say at
last, "that Socialism is a danger to be fought? "
"Extreme Socialism, yes. But with the more
moderate Socialists we have many ideas in common.
We must avoid, above all, antagonising them."
Just what Oscar Franklin had said! Strange how
the same phrases seemed to become current coin in
political circles. It was essential, however, to avoid
antagonising Mr. Parbury, so Kavanagh continued
to listen meekly whilst the Prime Minister discoursed
in beautiful language on the achievements of the
League of Nations, the need for an understanding
with Soviet Russia, and the legitimate aspirations
of the Indians for self-government.
"We have got to march with the times," he ended
impressively. "We can't set the clock back. We
have to realise that the day has gone by for us to
dictate."
" Then you don't think, sir, that there is any danger
of our being dictated to ? " .
"No, no," Mr. Parbury answered with a touch of
impatience ; " and if we are, we must take it in good
part. We cannot arrogate to ourselves the role of
absolute autocrats."
It was evident that he was getting tired. The
dressing-bell provided a welcome diversion.
The Conservative set-back at Middlesbrough did
nothing to damp the spirits of the Batemans' house-
party, the news in the evening paper brought by
Kavanagh had evoked only a few passing comments-
" It was unfortunate of course " ; " Still, Archbold was
rather a turbulent kind of fellow, very unpopular
with the Opposition ; and then Turnbull, the Labour
man, was a good sort, it would be just as well to have
him in the House," etc.
Kavanagh, falling under the spell of this happy,
careless atmosphere, began by the next morning to
wonder at his own enthusiasm for a political career.
Wasn't it really rather foolish, after all ? Why should
one worry about tariffs or the industrial crisis or the
League of Nations when this lazy summer world lay
open to one ? As to propaganda, the very word
seemed ponderous and absurd. What was there to
propagand against? Trees, birds, and flowers seemed
to answer : " Nothing ! "
There was the Prime Minister on Saturday after-
noon, with the whole weight of the nation's destinies
on his shoulders, playing cricket with the House
eleven against the village, and being happily bowled
out by the baker's boy. As to General Brighorn,
even crossword puzzles ·appeared to provide too
great a mental effort, and the Daily Telegraph lay
unopened on his knees as he dozed under the cedars
after lunch with a handkerchief over his head to
keep off the flies.
Mrs. Murray Bateman was an excellent hostess and
left her guests to seek amusement or repose as they
pleased. But finding Kavanagh alone in a corner of
the lawn she insisted on taking him round the rose-
garden and telling him all about the marvellous new
system of philosophy she had just discovered of which
a certain Countess Zapraksy who had recently arrived
in London appeared to be the chief exponent.
"You really must come and hear her, she's simply
wonderful. I'm having her to speak at my house one
afternoon. Will you come if I send you a card ? "
" Well-philosophy's not much in my line. In what
does the Countess's wonderfulness consist ? "
" Oh, I don't know, it's difficult to explain, you'll
just feel it when you meet her. She's such a marvel-
lous personality. She simply radiates the life-force."
"Sounds most invigorating," Kavanagh agreed
heartily; " I'd love to come and be galvanised."
A faint flicker of annoyance passed over Mrs. Bate-
man's countenance. She was not accustomed to have
her discoveries treated lightly.
"Ah, you must not come in a mocking spirit," she
said, " or you will learn nothing ! "
" Indeed, no. I will come in all humility, prepared
to sit at the Countess's feet-metaphorically, at least."
And with that Mrs. Bateman had to be content.
At the moment Kavanagh had no intention of
accepting her invitation ; " cults " and prophets
of new gospels held little attraction for him, but to
accept seemed the line of least resistance ; it was too
hot to struggle. Besides, his thoughts were mainly
occupied with Rosamund.
Somewhat to his surprise, Kavanagh had felt his
heart beating quite uncomfortably when he found her
at the tea-table in the hall on his arrival. He wondered
what it was that made Rosamund so different from
other girls. Of course she was beautiful-the small
head with its burnished waves of red-brown hair, the
pale but luminous skin, the red curves of her lips,
were all charming enough, but it was the veiled look
in the big grey eyes, the languor in her movements
and in her low musical voice that particularly fascinated
him. He wondered whether it was a case of the
attraction of contrasts-he was essentially an out-
door man, whilst there was something exotic about
Rosamund-she was like a gardenia-yes, that was it,
a beautiful white gardenia set in dark-green leaves.
He was glad to have found a simile to suit her.
On Sunday evening a strange thing happened.
They were out together in a punt, and Rosamund had
insisted on taking the pole whilst Kavanagh lay
back amongst the cushions watching her slender
figure bending to and fro. Suddenly as they passed
under some overhanging trees a branch caught in the
neck of her dress and tore it off her shoulder.
"I say, has it hurt you?" Kavanagh exclaimed,
leaning forward, for on the soft white flesh a red
mark had fl.ashed out.
But Rosamund answered almost angrily : " Oh
no, there's nothing the matter-don't bother, Terence.",
" Rosamund, there is something the matter ! "
Kavanagh persisted, his eyes fixed on the place, and
although Rosamund then hastily covered it up he had
time to notice that this was no fresh wound made by
the jagged end of a drooping bough, but a dull red
scar in the form of a circle with a dot in the centre
which seemed to have been branded into the point
of her shoulder.
Seeing his bewilderment, Rosamund said with an
attempt at unconcern: " That's an old mark ; it's
been there for ages."
" But what is it ? It looks like--"
"Don't ask me about it," she interrupted, and he
saw she had turned pale-a hunted look had come into
her eyes. "Don't ask me about it," she repeated
tremulously. And at the quiver in her voice Kavanagh,
cut to the heart and hardly knowing what he was doing,
put his arms round her and cried :
"But, darling, don't you understand, I love you I
Tell me what it is that makes you look sometimes so
sad-tell me everything, Rosamund."
She pushed him gently away. " I can't tell you.
And you mustn't love me, Terence. I don't want
love."
" Why not ? "
" Because I don't want to feel anything, to have
any emotions. I dread emotions."
" Ah, you've cared for someone I "
"Yes, once-long ago. But that's all over now."
"Is he dead?." Kavanagh could not help trying
to discover whether he had a living rival.
Rosamund answered with a faint shudder: "No, I
wish he was ! " Then, reading Kavanagh's thought,
she added : " But I've put him out of my thoughts,
I've done with all that-for ever I " '
Silence fell on them as Rosamund punted slowly to
the landing-stage and they made their way back to
the house through the darkening garden.
After dinner, as they sat together in a corner of the
hall, they talked of Kavanagh's plan of standing for
Parliament, and Rosamund, who had become her
normal self again, suddenly said:
"Look here, Terence, I've had an idea. I heard
you saying at dinner that you wanted a secretary for
your political work."
5
" So I do. D'you know of one ? "
" What kind do you want ? "
" Oh, capable, methodical, not too plain-headed if
possible. Still, not a vamp."
" Well, do you think I'd do ? "
"You, Rosamund?" Kavanagh said m surprise.
" You don't mean it ? "
" Why not ? I want a job."
" Somehow I can't imagine you hammering a type-
writer. It seems absurd," demurred Kavanagh.
"Oh, but you don't know how I can work. I was
at college, you see. Do take me on, Terence," she
added with an earnestness that puzzled him.
"Of course I will. I'd love to have you."
"Good. We'll start work directly we get back to
London."
Kavanagh smiled at her eagerness; but he could not
understand it. His mind worked on very simple lines
where women were concerned, and he wondered why
she should be so keen to be his secretary but not his
wife. Well, one must be thankful for small mercies,
and perhaps in time-who knew?
The next morning they travelled up to London by

the same train, and on parting at Waterloo Rosamund
said gaily:
"Well, then, it's all settled ? "
" Certainly, as far as I'm concerned. And the
sooner we begin the better."
But they had reckoned without Lady Dare. Rosa-
mund was her favourite daughter; Claire, her elder, had
married none too well two years earlier, and Lady Dare
had counted on Rosamund to make a really brilliant
marriage, especially now that there was no question of
her marrying young Peter Markham, to whom she had
been engaged seven years ago. The strange illness she
had had at that time was, Lady Dare felt convinced, as
much to be accounted for by overworking at college as
by the sad ending to her engagement ; why then should
she want to get to work again instead of enjoying
society like other girls of her world ?
But a visit from Kavanagh had the effect of disarming
Lady Dare completely. Although as much puzzled as
hermotherbyRosamund'scravingforwork,Kavanagh's
Celtic imagination came to his rescue, and he found
himself eloquently depicting the urge that such a girl
as Rosamund must feel to find a scope for her energies-
after all, public affairs must now be of interest to every
thinking man or woman. His voice with its faint
suggestion of a brogue, his charming manners and
good looks, had their effect, and by the end of twenty
minutes Lady Dare had fallen completely beneath his
spell. Terence, as his friends said, "had a way with
him " that few people could resist.
It was not, however, a mere matter of fascination.
After all, Lady Dare reasoned, here was a man, young,
rich, and charming, in every respect a most desirable
parti ; if Rosamund were to be constantly with him,
who knew to what it might lead ? The conclusion was
identical with Kavanagh's own. So it was settled.
The very next morning the door-bell of his flat rang,
and Rosamund appeared in a neat washing frock of
crepe de Chine with a new leather attache case in her
hand-" Quite the efficient secretary I " as Kavanagh
observed with a laugh.
Then she got to work on his papers, arranging them
in neat piles, affixing labels, collecting newspaper
cuttings from odd corners of his desk.
" Haven't you got a book to paste these in ? " she
asked, holding up a bundle.
"No. I just jam them into envelopes," he said,
pointing to a bursting packet.
" Well, we must buy a book straight away. And you
haven't a typewriter, I suppose ? "
"Lord, no. We must get one."
' It ended by their going off together and spending a
glorious morning at a store that specialised in office
equipment. And because they really could not wait
for their purchases to be delivered by the firm's motor-
van, they returned at one o'clock in a taxi bearing
triumphantly the latest thing in typewriters, files,
clips, labels, and all the paraphernalia of a really
perfectly equipped office. When they had deposited
all these in the right places around the smoking-room,
Kavanagh said with a smile :
"Well, that's done. Now let's go to lunch at the
Berkeley l "
But Rosamund shook her head. "No, the secretary
doesn't lunch with her employer the first day. That
comes l.ater. You don't even know whether I'm satis-
factory yet. I may get the sack in a week."
So Kavanagh had to be content with a lonely
luncheon at his club.
But he was very happy. As the days went by he
marvelled more and more at the transformation in
Rosamund. All her languor had vanished, there was
no longer the veiled look in her eyes nor the dragging
note in her voice that had so intrigued him. At the
same time there was something feverish in her energy,
as if she were working so as not to think. And some
days there were dark lines beneath her eyes that made
Kavanagh wonder whether she had lain awake at night.
Sometimes they went together to Brandon's, or
Brandon dropped in at Half Moon Street at the end of
the day's work.
"Funny," he said to Kavanagh when they were alone
together, "how one sees people without taking them in.
I've met Rosamund Dare at parties often since the old
days in the square, and only thought of her as a pretty
girl. Now of course I see there's something more, some-
thing much more. That girl's very curious, Terence."
" You think so ? I used to feel that too-at first."
" There's been something in her life. I can't think
what. Not simply an ordinary love-affair; something
more complex."
After a while Brandon went on :
"It's time you settled down, you know, and found a
chatelaine for that old barn of yours."
"Speak for yourself, Jimmy."
Brandon laughed bitterly. "My dear fellow. What
girl would look at me-a man who never smiles and
whose face takes to pieces ! Besides, my work keeps
. me always on the move-here to-day and gone to-
morrow. Nice sort of husband I should make. It's
quite different for you, Terence."
" Well, if Rosamund will have me-" and Kavanagh
told Brandon what had happened in the country.
Brandon listened sympathetically.
" That girl's all right," he said slowly. "And I
believe she can be trusted."
" Can we let her into the secret of your work ? "
"Not yet. We must study her a little longer first.
But it would be worth while putting out a feeler. I
have an idea, a very distinct idea, that she knows
something about the line we're on. In that case she
might be very useful to us, Terence."
CHAPTER V
THE ZODIAC
AN incident that occurred a few days later gave them

the required opportunity. They had all three fore-
gathered in Brandon's studio late one afternoon, when
a roll of drums sounded from the street. Brandon
crossed to the window and looked out. A Communist
procession was approaching, composed of the usual
crowd of degenerates, most of them mere boys, wearing
the family likeness that characterises the r'evolution-
aries of all ages and all countries, and holding aloft
dingy red flags and the banners of the N.U.W.M.
"Poor fools," said Brandon, "cannon fodder for the
class war I "
" What do they hope to get out of these demon-
strations?" said Kavanagh, looking over Brandon's
shoulder.
"To put the wind up people. Their leaders have
told them that all London quakes at their approach.
And in one way they serve a purpose."
"How?"
" By concentrating the attention of the public on
the outward manifestations of Bolshevism instead of
on what's behind it."
" Ah I " said Rosamund, with a catch in her voice,
" you understand then ? "
" Understand what ? " asked Brandon.
"That Bolshevism's only the outward manifestation
of something far deeper, far more formidable. I~'s
70
THE ZODIAC 71
like the lava that overflows a village, but the earth-
quake that shakes a whole country is the real evidence
of the forces at work underground."
The two men looked at each other in surprise.
"How do you know that, Roasmund?" said
Kavanagh. " Of course I realise it, because I'm up
against it all the time."
" Ah ! " said Rosamund. " I wonder whether you
understand what you're really fighting, the terrible
power of the forces against which you've pitted your
strength ? I'm not talking of course about the mere
organisation of Bolshevism-though that's marvellous
enough-but of the secret powers behind the whole
world movement, the master minds directing it I "
" And who are they ? " said Brandon enigmatically.
In a voice so low that it could only just be heard,
Rosamund murmured :
"The Hidden Chiefs."
Brandon gave a start: "What did you say, Rosa-
mund?"
"The Hidden and Secret Chiefs of the Inner Order,"
the girl repeated dreamily.
" You know that ? " said Brandon, tense with
suppressed excitement.
Rosamund made no reply, but moved to the door;
then suddenly she turned, and going up to Kavanagh
laid her hand on his arm.
" Terence," she said earnestly and her voice trembled
slightly. " You're fighting for a great cause. And
remember I'm with you in the fight."
The next moment she was gone.
" What can it mean ? " said Kavanagh.
" It means that Rosamund has been very near the
heart of things. She spoke of the Hidden Chiefs I "
" Yes. But that conveyed nothing to me."
" Ah ! But it's of the first importance. You
remember what I said, when we first discussed this
question, about the real rulers of the world ? "
"Yes, and you said you thought they were twelve.
I've always meant to get you back on to that point."
" Well, I'll try to explain. But I must begin with a
rough outline of the way the revolutionary movement's
organised. Broadly speaking, it's on two lines-the
political and the occult, each divided into a number of
different groups. The occult lot, that is to say the rank
and .file amongst them, usually knows nothing about
the political side of the business, and the political lot,
the avowed revolutionaries, knows nothing about the
occult side. And even the groups on the same side
often know little about each other. They're carefully
kept apart in water-tight compartments lest they
should compare notes and find out what's behind it all.
It To take the occult side first. The rank and file
consist mainly of harmless individuals with an innocent
love of mystery who imagine they're being initiated
into all the secrets of the Universe-usually people
who would not be bothered to study deeply on their
own and who really imagine that all the wisdom of
Greece and Egypt is being instilled in their minds.
That there's any connection between their group and
the revolutionary movement probably never enters
their heads ; they're content to be led by their own
particular teachers, and to know that behind these
teachers are what they call the Hidden Chiefs, or, in
full, the Hidden and Secret Chiefs of the Inner
Order."
" Ah, then they kn<:>W there is this secret council ? "
asked Kavanagh.
THE ZODIAC 73
" Certainly. The existence of these unknown and
exalted beings lies at the back of all occult tradition
and is a cardinal point in the teaching of every occult
group."
" But do you think that they really exist ? "
"Not in the sense that their would-be disciples
imagine-as depositaries of supernatural wisdom. I
don't believe in the pretensions of the seventeenth-
century Rosicrucians any more than I believe in the
three sages of Agarttha of whom the Polaires speak
to-day. But I do think it possible that there have
been and still are people who have in some way
mastered the art of projecting thought and floating
ideas in a way unknown to the rest of the world. And
I've also wondered often whether personal magnetism
isn't more used in political life than most people have
any conception of.
"Now the political side of the movement is run on
the same lines as the occult side, that is to say, on the
old secret society system. The Communist Party in
each country is in reality a secret society-few mem-
bers know who are the real heads or where the direction
comes from. Moreover, in the secret correspondence
of leading Communists-not the sort of ' secret docu-
ments ' that the Press occasionally produces as a
marvellous scoop, but the really secret communications
that I've got hold of from time to time-the phrase-
ology used is absolutely that of the secret conspirators
known as the Illuminati in the Eighteenth Century.
There is the same plan of using a calendar of their own,
much like the one adopted during the French Revolu-
tibn, the same system of classical pseudonyms for
places and people ; there are the same references to a
secret council who direct the movement in the back-
ground. Now, twelve is the number one finds in the
past controlling occult groups-and twelve is still the
number of the Hidden Chiefs. Come upstairs, and I'll
show you evidence that it is also the number controlling
the revolutionary movement."
Once in the room where he kept his collection,
Brandon took a paper out of a file of documents and
handed it to Kavanagh.
"Do you notice the signature to this letter, addressed
by one leading Communist to another ? "
Kavanagh read the following typewritten words:
" The cause is progressing. The brethren in Mace-
donia have met in conclave and decided to allocate
£100,000 for the work in Memphis. Damocles will
bring instructions from the Twelve and preparations
have been made to hasten the Great Day."
Tll
"Signed M.," Kavanagh said reflectively.
" That's what I thought at first. But it's not an M
at all. This is what gave me the clue. See ? " And
Brandon pushed forward another slip of paper on
which was written:
"Damocles has arrived in safety."
~
"Well, you've got me beat this time," Kavanagh

said. " What on earth is that hieroglyphic ? "
"A sign of the Zodiac-Capricornus. And the
first, like an M, is the sign of Scorpio. Now do you
begin to understand ? "
" Of course. There are twelve signs in the Zodiac.
So there must be twelve behind the revolutionary
THE ZODIAC 75
movement, and that is evidently the name by which
they are known."
"And if I'm right," said Brandon, "the Zodiac is
divided into trigons or four sets of three, representing
earth, air, fire, and water.. Each trigon no doubt has
its own particular function."
"And you think," said Kavanagh," that the Twelve
composing the Zodiac and controlling the revolutionary
movement are the same as those known to the occult
groups as the Hidden Chiefs ? "
" Yes, since both acknowledge the existence of a
secret directorate, which in both cases is seen to consist
of twelve, and since both are working towards the same
end, it seems to me highly probable."
" But if the occult groups, at any rate the rank and
file amongst them, are not consciously working for
revolution, what is their common aim ? "
" The absolute destruction of the existing order of
things. One might describe it as the philosophy of
the tabula rasa. No doubt some of them are genuine
idealists ; they believe that the world at present is
all wrong, that the human race has got off the track,
and that everything must be swept away and started
afresh. Others again are simply out for themselves.
One must remember that to work for the destruction-
ists is a very paying job. A soap-box orator who
might get two pounds a week speaking for the Conser-
vatives can make four or five times that sum preaching
Communism. An author who glorifies vice or ridicules
patriotism is certain of a big boost in the Press and
consequently of sales running into thousands. As you
once said-all the money's on that side. As long as
they'll help in the work of destruction any writer,
speaker, or publicist of average ability can be sure of
funds. With this end in view, they work along differ-
ent lines. Some are out to destroy our political
institutions, some to do away with what they call
'conventional morality,' others to reverse our accepted
canons of art or literature, others again to undermine
patriotism and the national traditions on which our
civilisation is built. And all, practically all, whether
on 'the political or the occult side of the movement,
are out to do away with Christianity. In this whole
scheme of demolition, which they call the ' Great
Work,' all see the realisation either of their philosophic
dreams or of their own racial or individual ambitions,
for whilst actuated by different motives, on one point
they are all united-the necessity for the clean sweep.
Until they've brought that off they'll work together
and enlist supporters all over the world. The call to
destruction makes a tremendous appeal."
" Still," said Kavanagh, " I can't conceive of a vast
world movement organised merely by destructionists.
There must be some more definite motive at the back
of it all."
" Of course, the destructionists are only the instru-
ments-the dynamic force set in motion by the
controlling brains of the Zodiac. They have a definite
enough motive."
" Which is--"
"World power. Already powerful, they want to
sweep away everything that stands between them and
absolute domination of the world."
" And who are they ? "
" Ah ! that's the great mystery-the mystery that's
puzzled every investigator for a hundred and fifty
years. What Joseph de Maistre called 'the great
European secret ' perhaps. Only it's no longer
THE ZODIAC 77
European, it's world-wide. If we could discover that,
the whole conspiracy might be laid bare. Their
secret has been marvellously well kept."
" Do you think it's baffled even the Secret Service ? "
" I don't suppose the Secret Service has ever got on
to it. As I said to you once before, it's not their job
to enquire into hidden causes, but merely to follow
current events. They're not out, as I am, to get to
the bottom of the world movement of which Bolshe-
vism is only one phase."
" And you've no idea yourself ? "
"Nothing definite-only surmises. The one thing
I feel certain of is that they control colossal wealth.
Remember, I say control, not possess. It's not a case
of merely rich men, even of very rich men, with millions
invested in national industries that bring them in
gigantic incomes. What we've got to realise is the
existence of men who control vast sources of wealth,
not single industries, not even a series of mines or
factories, but large shares in many different industries
in their own countries, together with their affiliated
interests abroad-part of the coal here, part of the steel
here, part of the shipping elsewhere, so that their
resources are beyond reckoning. Take Ludwig
Schneewald, for example, whose operations extend over
the whole world. He owns railways in one country,
fifty per cent. of the iron and steel trade in a second,
so that no one else can get a monopoly-he's always
just strong enough to defeat them. Then he runs the
army of a certain small republic, the navy of another,
controls armament works in different countries likely
to be at war with each other, so that whichever loses
Ludwig Schneewald stands to win. If one could draw
a sketch of Schneewald's spider web all over the
world it would make your brain whirl. And Schnee-
wald' sonly one of these spiders. There must be half
a dozen or more controlling as many interests-Geld-
beutel of Frankfurt, Aaron Fuchsbein of the U.S.A.,
Oscar Franklin of New York and London, Nahum
Zimarkara all over the east of Europe, and Fritz
Chaikoff all over the south. Then of course there's
Sir Paul Greenworthy, formerly Grunwald, one of the
men most interested in the artificial silk trade of
London, a bank or two abroad, besides owning big
interests in ships, acetic acid, cotton and forests in
different parts of the world."
" Yes, of course the power such men wield must be
terrific. You think they're members of the Zodiac ? "
" Who can say ? One mustn't jump to conclusions.
But given the existence of a vast reservoir of wealth
on which the revolutionaries can draw for their war
chest, I don't see who is more likely to provide it. In
fact, I see no other answer to the question you once
asked me : ' Where does all the money come from ? '
It can't come from national capitalists who could have
no interest in promoting wars or revolutions and who
depend on stability."
" But how can revolutions profit even international
financiers ? "
" One can make profit out of anything provided one
knows beforehand what's going to happen."
" And do they know ? "
" Yes. Their Intelligence Service is the most
marvellous in the world."
Brandon paused for a moment and then went on :
" If I'm right in identifying these men-or some of
these men-with the Zodiac, I'm inclined to think
that money is not their only asset. In other words,
THE ZODIAC 79
I think that some of the Zodiac may not be men of
vast wealth but of vast intelligence, providing the
organising brains behind the movement. And also
the mass hypnotism that's exercised over the minds
of the public to-day. How else are we to explain the
fact that for no apparent cause, in defiance of all
reason, we find everyone repeating the same thing at
the same moment, even though it contradicts all they
said yesterday-swayed now in this direction, now in
that, as at the wave of a conductor's baton? The
direction must come from somewhere."
" Don't you think largely from the Press ? "
" Yes. But who controls the Press ? What makes
so-called constitutional papers boom every subversive
theory and suppress contrary propaganda? There
must be some powerful influence in the background
working, not only through the Press, but through
every means of publicity-broadcasting, the cinema,
and so on."
" And that power is the Zodiac ? Twelve super-men
like sort of wireless stations sending out messages all
over the world ? "
" Yes. I don't mean that I think twelve men alone
could supply the whole force of the movement, but,
given twelve controlling minds with, perhaps, a trigon
of three as an inner directorate and one Supreme
Head above the Twelve, it is possible to imagine how
through the outer rings of agents running into thou-
sands, all over the world, vast currents of thought
may be set in motion. And if, in opposition to all
this, there is no body of dominating thought nor any
organisation worthy of the name, if, on the contrary,
the opposing forces are all disunited and quarrelling
amongst themselves, what is there to stop the Zodiac
obtaining control of the whole world?"
" I wonder why they should want to be more power-
ful than they are already."
" Oh, at present there are limits to their powers.
As long as natibnal traditions, private property, and
religion exist, as long as there are Kings, Presidents,
and Cabinets, they can't become the absolute masters
of the world. They want a completely free hand.
Believing themselves to be supermen-as to a certain
extent they are, if only by their manipulation of
finance and their power of controlling opinions by
careful propaganda and mass suggestion-they feel
themselves called upon to control the destinies of the
human race and to remodel the world according to
their own ideas."
" Then you think that in a sense they are idealists ? "
"Not for a moment. They are simply out for
power. But regarding the majority of the human
race as mere cattle, they believe their role should be
to drive them. And they may possibly reason that
the cattle would be better off under their control than
when allowed to gore each other or run amok as they
do at present. Democracy of course is the last thing
they've any use for."
" Though they work through democratic move-
ments?"
" Yes, in order to turn the cattle against their
present drivers."
" I see. It's ingenious and horrible. Diabolical,
in fact. So diabolical that I can't help wondering-
don't think this idiotic, Jimmy-whether there's
not some supernatural power at the back of it all.
You don't believe that?"
"Yes, I do," Brandon said slowly. He was silent
THE ZODIAC 81
for a moment and then added : " I quite believe the
Powers of Darkness are behind it. How else can one
account for the anti-religious frenzy of the revolution-
aries from the Jacobins to the Bolsheviks ? Still, the
devil must work through human agents. One can't
imagine Satan editing a newspaper or running a cinema.
The Zodiac are his ministers, ready for love of wealth
or power to carry out his purpose."
"And there's no way of defeating them," said
Kavanagh, "but with the help of the Powers of
Light. That's why we ought to invoke them, and
organise. The only hope would be a mass thought
movement on our side. But have we got any
dominating minds to start it or to control it once it
has been started ? "
" I think we have minds capable of dominating but
not working in unison and without the knowledge how
to use their power. The other side have made a
definite study of how to work on the minds of others,
to capture them and make them serve their purpose.
We have never attempted to master the art of mass
suggestion and propaganda."
" Yet the masses in England remain remarkably
sound au fond," said Kavanagh. "Look how they
responded to the country's call in 1914. The whole
nation, with the exception of a few Socialists, was one
blazing mass of patriotic fervour. The same thing
began again during the General Strike in 1926 ; if it
had gone on ten days longer I believe Bolshevism in
this country would have been killed for ever."
" Which is perhaps why it was brought to a hasty
and inconclusive ending ! The occult forces found
themselves up against a great tidal wave of national
feeling they had not reckoned on. As you say, the
6
82 THE SECRETOF THE ZODIAC
British people are perfectly sound au fond. But they
are not given to thinking out problems, which makes
them excellent material for dominating minds to work
on. Too often they are subjected to influences from
the other side. But because of their inherent sound-
ness they're quite ready to follow the right lead when
it's given them. In 1914, for example, it was given
them. The dominating minds on our side then were
united and organised. Confronted by a tangible and
physical danger the best brains in the army, navy, and
elsewhere formed themselves into a body and, supported
by the popular Press, were able to generate the wave
of patriotic fervour that swept the country. For the
time being the secret forces at work were powerless to
withstand it. This development of the war was a
frightful blow to their plans. They had counted on
England not coming in. But they continued to work
in the background in the way that came to be known
as the Hidden Hand.
"Since 1914 the dominating personalities on our side
have either been killed off or have grown old and tired,
or in some way or another have been relegated to
obscurity-the mass force they once exercised was
broken up. For with the Armistice the nation's
destinies ceased to be influenced by military leaders and
passed into the hands of politicians-with what results
we know. Then the hidden powers could muster their
forces, raising up only those statesm,en whom they
could control and placing .their agents in every key
position. It's true, as you say, that for a few days in
1926 something of the spirit that animated the nation
during the war revived again under the influence of a
fresh set of personalities, less commanding than those
of 1914, yet capable of giving the required lead in view
THE ZODIAC
of the national emergency. But the moment was too
brief to turn the tide."
"Yes, to-day the public has abjured nearly every-
thing it thought in 1914. It collects in masses round
the Cenotaph on Armistice Day, it wears its poppies
dutifully, but it repudiates everything the men it
mourns died for," Kavanagh said bitterly. '' It has
become the fashion to make heroes of politicians who
betrayed us then and who to-day would sacrifice every
interest of the British Empire."
" The effect of mass suggestion and unceasing pro-
paganda. One can't believe that in twenty years the
character of the nation can have changed funda-
mentally."
" Then it will take a fresh crisis to produce counter-
mass suggestion, since in between the crises our forces
are disbanded."
" Yes, whilst those of the other side remain per-
manently mobilised. They never cease to carry on
their work of disintegration; we only stand together
when tangible disaster threatens. What is ne{lded is
a permanent group of dominating minds on our side
to send out counter-currents."
" A sort of counter-Zodiac I " said Kavanagh.
" Just so. That's the very idea I'm working up to.
Once we've got the facts about the plot and, if possible,
the names of the Twelve forming the Zodiac, we can
put the whole thing before the country.'.'
CHAPTER VI
ROSAMUND'S STORY
THE next morning Rosamund arrived at Kavanagh's

rooms paler than ever and with the dark shadows he
had sometimes noticed round her eyes.
"I can't think what's the matter with her," he said
to Brandon as they went off to lunch together at the
Carlton Club. " She swears it isn't simply that she's
been dancing late."
" No, and it isn't physical fatigue. She's got some-
thing on her mind, Terence."
" I've always felt that. But I can't for the life of
me make out what it can be." To himself he added:
" But it's connected in some way with that odd mark
on her arm I noticed in the punt. Why did she get so
hot and bothered when I asked about it ? "
" Do you mind if I try to get it out of her ? " said
Brandon. "I know a little about psychology, and I
think I might be able to help her."
"Go ahead then by all means." Anything to lay
the ghost in that haunted room of her mind about
which she had spoken on the terrace of the House !
As if by chance Brandon dropped in that evening at
Kavanagh's rooms just as Rosamund was tidying up
the day's work. She was looking still so shaken and
made so little effort to appear herself that no diplomacy
was required to lead up to the subject.
"Well, Rosamund," Brandon said, going straight
up to her, "not feeling well? Been sleeping badly? "
84
ROSAMUND'S STORY 85
Rosamund made no answer, but crossed to the
window and looked out. Then, turning round, she said
in a stifled voice :
"Something dreadful happened last night."
" Ah ? " said Brandon.
" I don't know how to describe it. Perhaps you'll
think me mad. But-but--"
" Go on. Whatever it is, we shall understand and
try to help you."
"Well, when I went up to my room last night I
suddenly had the most terrible sensation of evil all
around me. It seemed as if all the Powers of Darkness
were attacking me-it was hideous. I've had dreams
like this before, but never felt anything like it when I
was awake."
She paused and went on :
" I think it all began with the talk we had here
yesterday. D'you remember something I said to
Terence just before I left ? "
'' Yes," said Kavanagh. "You said: 'You're
fighting for a great cause and I'm with you in the
fight.' "
Rosamund nodded.
" That was it. That was what brought things to a
crisis and made them muster all their forces. I'd
definitely gone over to the other side, you see, and they
were determined not to lose their hold on me. So they
gathered in one terrific onslaught. I felt as if all hell
was closing round me."
"But who are 'they'?" Kavanagh asked be-
wildered.
" Wait a minute, Terence," said Brandon ; " I think
I understand, Come and sit down and try to tell us
quite calmly about it."
Rosamund sank down obediently on the divan beside
him as if exhausted.
"That's all. There's nothing more to tell you," she
said faintly.
"Oh yes, there is," Brandon said in a voice at the
same time practical and sympathetic. "There's lots
more to tell. You've had these dreams a long while,
Rosamund?"
"Yes, for seven years."
" Ever since you've had something on your mind ? "
" How do you know that ? " Rosamund asked in
surprise.
" Because the bad dreams and experiences you had
last night don't come to sane and normal people like
yourself without some reason. There's something in
your life, something you've done in the past, you
bitterly regret. You can't shake off the memory of it.
It lies there, deep down in your subconsciousness, and
rises to your mind in dreams. Let's have it up to the
surface now and see if we can't get rid of it once and
for all."
And as Rosamund still hesitated Brandon went on :
"You must make an effort. Tell us how it all
started and how' they,' whoever' they' are, came to
have a hold over you."
Rosamund was silent for a moment. Then, as if
making a sudden decision, she said:
"Yes, I believe it would help me-and you too,
perhaps. But it's a long story. Have you time to
listen ? "
"All the time there is," said Kavanagh.
"Well, seven years ago," began Rosamund, "I was
up at the 'Varsity going in for a degree in philosophy
and history. I'd always had a craving to study
ROSAMUND'S STORY
metaphysics, and though Mother thought it was a silly
whim, she gave in at last and let me go. If only she
hadn't I"
Rosamund paused a moment and then went on :
"Philosophy's a risky subject to embark on, shakes
your faith in everything, starts you questioning all
the settled solid things you've taken so far for granted.
Gradually I got drawn into occultism. You see, when
you've had your mind swept and garnished, then it's
the chance for the seven devils to get in. So when two
friends of mine, Peter Markham and Jack Edgingly,
took up occult study, I turned to it with a sort of relief
from the materialism to which psychology had reduced
me. Peter was a boy whom I'd known slightly all
my life, but up at Oxford we often met and at last we
got engaged. We'd a lot in common, and now occult-
ism seemed to draw us close together."
Rosamund was silent for a moment, evidently ab-
sorbed by the memories her story called up. Then
brushing them aside, she said :
"There was a small set of people up at the 'Varsity
who were keen on that kind of thing. The centre of
this group was Doctor Hensley, a Fellow of Saint
Stephen's-a man with a strong magnetic personality.
The others looked upon him with great respect, so we
were naturally flattered when he asked all us three to
dine. After that we were often at his house, where we
met all sorts of what we called ' interesting people ' -
writers, artists, politicians, foreigners as well as English.
The one that impressed me most was Doctor Otto Brink-
dorff, the German philosopher, as he was called-in
reality, as I see now, simply a propagandist working
on occult lines. Of course I didn't realise it at the
time ; I thought him wonderful, as everyone else did in
88 THE SECRETOF THE ZODIAC
that set. Doctor Hensley had got him down to Oxford
to lecture, and everybody crowded to hear him. I
don't know what he said that impressed them, for
afterwards one could remember nothing in particular,
but I suppose it was a sort of mass hypnotism that made
them all admire him as they did. The reason Doctor
Hensley picked us out for attention was evidently
because our interest in occultism made him think we
should be easily open to that sort of suggestion. That
was why he and his circle wanted to rope us in, and rope
us in they did I
" Looking back on it all, I see now that the whole
thing was mixed up with politics. They gradually
undermined all our ideas of patriotism as well as
religion. It was only afterwards I heard Doctor Hensley
had been pro-German during the war and had tried to.
check recruiting. A good many of the undergraduates
at Oxford were Pacifists and Socialists, and all sorts
of things of that kind. Atheists too, of course. They
seemed to become like that automatically soon
after they arrived. I've seen boys come up to the
'Varsity quite ordinary, cheery, patriotic boys, and by
the time they'd been there a month or two they
had changed completely. This didn't strike me so
much at the time-it's only now I realise what it all
meant."
Brandon nodded at Kavanagh.
"You see, Terence, the two lines I told you of-
the political and occult, both leading to the same
thing in the end."
" Yes. I wonder how much of the anti-patriotism
in the Oxford debating societies-resolutions not
to fight for king or country, and so on-are due to
influences we know nothing of. Apart from the ideas
ROSAMUND'S STORY
pumped into them by Hensley, if they have an alien
of the type of Brinkdorff down to lecture to them,
it's not likely to fire them with much enthusiasm
for the Empire."
" And Brinkdorff wasn't the only one," said Rosa-
mund. "There were others. Krovsky, for example,
who talked about the wonders of Soviet Russia and
ran a settlement himself near Amiens. They all
seemed to have a curious kind of assurance as if-I
don't quite know how to express it-they were not
mere individuals expressing their personal opinions,
but members of some powerful organisation that was
bound one day to get the upper hand."
Rosamund paused reflectively and then went on
again:
" After a while we began to feel that there was
something behind this group of Doctor Hensley's-some-
thing like a secret society, in fact. At first they only
dropped hints about it, but gradually they became
more explicit, and one day Doctor Hensley definitely
told us that there was an occult society called ' The
Order of the Phrenix,' to which he and his friends
belonged, and asked if we would like to join it. Of
course we said we would-we were young, you see,
and game for any adventures. And to belong to a
secret society seemed frightfully thrilling."
"Like long ago in the Square garden? " Kavanagh
said with a smile.
Rosamund smiled too, for the first time.
" Yes. Rather childish of us really, wasn't it ?
But we were so dominated by Doctor Hensley that we'd
have done anything he told us-followed him into a
lion's cage if he'd ordered it. So the following week
we were all three-Peter, Jack, and I-initiated into
go THE SECRET OF THE ZODIAC
the first degree of the Order of the Phc:enix in Holland
Park. A certain Countess Zapraksy was one of the
leading members."
"Ah t "said Kavanagh. "That's interesting."
" You've heard of her ? "
" Yes. But go on."
" Part of the ceremony consisted in branding us each
with the seal of the Order-a circle with a dot in the
middle. It was done with a small red-hot iron."
There was silence. Then Rosamund said in a voice
that trembled slightly :
"Now you understand, Terence, why I didn't want
you to see the mark on rp.y shoulder that evening in
the punt?"
And with a sudden movement she slipped off the
shoulder-strap of her frock and showed the red mark
on the smooth skin.
Kavanagh turned away with an involuntary shudder,
The sight jarred on him unaccountably. Rosamund
saw this, and quickly replacing her shoulder-strap,
went on with her story.
" Of course in the Temple everything was made to
appear very beautiful-the dim lights, the incense,
the weird sort of Eastern chants seemed to cast a
spell over our minds, and for months when we attended
the meetings at the Temple we never dreamt there was
anything more behind it. The Chiefs told us that
if we studied diligently the books and manuscripts
they gave us to read, meditated, and did the prescribed
exercises, we should gradually develop latent faculties
that would give us powers of which ordinary people
knew nothing. And the promise of power is very
tempting, especially when one's quite young. So in
this way we got led on from one thing to another.
ROSAMUND'S STORY gr
"I can't tell you what happened at some of these
ceremonies in the Temple. I don't even remember
very clearly-only an odd sense of unreality, of being
in a dream. There was a horrible person who used
to come there sometimes-Gustav Mervine. Normally
I should have loathed him, but somehow all one's
natural instinct to recoil from such a creature seemed
withered up-do you wonder that I hated to tell you
all this, Terence ?-but that's the effect of occultism,
it turns everything upside down, changes all values,
so that you love what you once hated and hated what
you used to love. It destroys all sense of truth, too.
People who've gone in long for occultism have lived so
much in 1hat unreal world that they can't distinguish
truth from falsehood and lie without knowing it.
Perhaps I didn't get so far as that, but I must have
got pretty far, for after about a year the Chiefs of the
Temple, evidently feeling they were sure of us, let us
know there was an inner Order to which we could be
admitted if we wished. We were told, however, that
for this purpose we should have to go and stay at
Charenton in order to study under a high initiate
called Raskoff. We all agreed to go and spent
some months there. Raskoff was certainly an extra-
ordinary man, a very powerful occultist whose
system consisted mainly in low diet and hard manual
labour."
Brandon nodded. " In order to induce amemia
of the brain and make it easier for him to gain con-
trol."
Rosamund looked surprised.
"Do you know about him?"
" Yes, but go on."
" Raskoff really is a superman-more so than
Brinkdorff, the German occultist, whom we met again
at Charenton. Well, Raskoff thought he had got us
all cold. We'd gone obediently through his course,
agreeing to everything, submitted to his plan of bend-
ing our wills to his by spoiling the work he'd made us
do. One day, when he'd ordered us to make a garden
bench, and we'd toiled from morning to night to get
it finished, he briefly ordered us to break it up for
firewood! We did it without a murmur. And so,
not unnaturally, he thought we were his-body
and soul-like all the other wretched creatures at
Charenton, whom he'd reduced to mere spineless
automatons ready to say or do anything he told them.
"So one morning-it was Good Friday, I remember
-Raskoff told us we were to be taken a step farther
by being initiated into the more secret Order to which
he belonged, at the head Temple in Paris. We were to
go there that night by motor, and all that day, in
preparation for the ceremony, we were given nothing
to eat and drink but a little bread and water. It was
already dark when the car arrived ; we all three got
in and Raskoff with us. During the long drive no one
spoke-we were supposed to be engaged in meditation.
As soon as we entered the fortifications Raskoff took
out three black silk handkerchiefs and bound them
over our eyes, explaining that every new initiate must
enter the Lodge blindfold. We were too much under
his domination to make any protest, but I remember
thinking that the real object of this was to prevent
us seeing where we were being taken. So when the
car stopped I contrived to slip the bandage from my
eyes for a second whilst Raskoff was helping the other
two out of the car. I saw then that we were iii a
narrow street in front of an old porte-cochere,at the
ROSAMUND'S STORY 93
side of which I noticed a small tobacconist's which I
tried to memorise. I had only time for this one
glimpse before pushing the bandage back into place.
Then I felt myself led across the pavement, and by
the feel of cobblestones under my feet I guessed we
were being taken through the porte-cochereacross a
courtyard, where we were halted and could hear
Raskoff opening a door. After that we seemed to be
going down a passage, then another door was opened,
and at the same time the bandages were taken off our
eyes.
"We found ourselves at the entrance of a long, low,
narrow room, feebly lit by a few wax tapers. It
looked like a sort of chapel, with a tawdry altar at the
end and a priest with a veil across his face standing
before it intoning something in Latin. The rows of
prie-Dieu were filled with people, and we took our
places with the rest. Some of them looked queer and
decadent, but others quite ordinary. There was an
old man with a beautiful face-noble and benevolent
looking. I don't know whether it was the oppressive
smell of Eastern incense or the horrible sense of evil
in the air that made me feel faintly sick. Gradually
I realised that the ceremony which was going on was
a parody of the Catholic Mass. After a while the
priest began to utter incantations, first in Latin, then
in Hebrew. From the first I understood that these
were evocations addressed to Satan, the Prince of
Darkness. Then followed terrible imprecations in
which the " congregation " joined, cursing God and
Christ and the Holy Virgin-the so-called worshippers
working themselves up into a frenzy of hate and fury.
The old man with the benevolent face was one of the
loudest."
Rosamund paused, pale and trembling, and covered
her face with her hands.
" But that was not all," she said at last in a stifled
voice. " There was worse, far worse to come. At
last, with the horror of it all, I fainted. At any rate, I
remember no more. I never went through the cere-
mony of initiation for which we had been brought
there, and I knew nothing more until I found myself
back in my bed at Charenton. The next morning I
was very ill, but Raskoff insisted on our all three
appearing before him. As we went towards his room
Peter managed to whisper to me that after I had been
taken out of the Temple the black mass had been
celebrated, followed by the ceremony of initiation,
that he had refused to be initiated, but that Jack
Edgingly had gone through with it. And he added:
'We've got to get out of this as quickly as possible.'
Raskoff was white with rage when we entered, but he
controlled himself, and said that now we had gone so
far along the road of occult knowledge the time had
come for us to make our choice as to which turning we
should take. We had to choose between the Powers of
Light and the Powers of Darkness, between the White
Lodge of which we had visited a Temple the night
before or the Black Lodges in which we had been
brought up. We knew enough of his perverted
phraseology to understand ~hat by the powers of light
he meant what we called the powers of darkness and
by the Black Lodge the Christian Church. He ended
by saying with a contemptuous glance at Peter: 'If
you are afraid, I have no further use for you-other-
wise great powers may be conferred on you. So I
ask you finally : Do you stand for God or Lucifer ? '
" I suppose it was this direct challenge that brought
ROSAMUND'S STORY 95
us to our senses. Peter and I looked at each other,
then with one voice we cried : ' We stand for God and
we leave you for ever.' Raskoff flashed one look of
fury on us, then quickly recovering himself, he smiled
a diabolical smµe and waved us to the door. Wretched
Jack Edgingly said nothing. We left him to his fate
and came away. Afterwards we heard he was on the
streets of Paris-a shattered wreck, for Raskoff, having
tested him in various ways, and seeing that he hadn't
the force of character to become an expert occultist,
had no further use for him and threw him over, ruined
body and soul. That was what made Peter see red-
for he was always fond of Jack in spite of his weakness
-and as soon as we got back to England he told me
he'd determined to embark on a crusade against
occultism and show the whole thing up.
" He tried to enlist the help of several parsons he
knew, but either they didn't care or they didn't dare
to stand by him, so he went over to the Church of
Rome and got all the encouragement he needed. Then
he started in-hired halls and gave lectures, to which
people came out of curiosity and murmured, ' Isn't it
too dreadful ? ' then went away and forgot all a bout.
it. No politicians would take the matter up ; the
Home Office and the police were too busy seeing that
people didn't buy chocolate or cigarettes after eight
o'clock to bother about secret societies or even black
masses. For black masses-not perhaps so horrible
as those in Paris--do take place in London under
the direction of high initiates. But members of secret
societies are to be found in Government Departments
and even holding responsible posts in the Church.
Of course they were all terrified of Peter's revelations,
and tried to stop him by ridicule. Then when that
failed they started a whisper-drive that he was mad,
that there was insanity in the family, that he'd been in
an asylum, and in a few weeks all the parrots of the
London and Oxford drawing-rooms were repeating
that lie. Peter was as sane as you two are to-day-
not a soul in his family had ever been mad-but from
that moment they tried to work on his mind by occult
methods. They'd always boasted they could make
people ill and even die by means of what they called
punitive currents set in motion by thought ; the
heart and the brain were their special points of attack."
Brandon shook his head. "They may say so. But
their real weapon is fear."
"Well, anyhow, it was the brain they went for with
Peter, because you see they wanted to prove him mad.
At first he held out, but the power they had over him
was too great-too great."
"How was that? " asked Kavanagh. "Surely by
that time he'd broken away from them? "
"Physically-yes. He never went near them.
But they had a hold over him as they had over all of
us. You see, we'd taken the oath at our initiation
into the Order of the Phcenix." And seeing Kavan-
agh's puzzled expression she went on:
" Perhaps you don't know what that means-the
occult power of the oath. It's the greatest weapon of
all secret societies. Outsiders sometimes wonder why
one should be made to take an oath-wouldn't a
simple promise do? What they don't understand is
that it's the fact of taking the solemn oath of secrecy
and blind obedience under pain of terrible penalties
that gives secret societies the power they exercise over
their members. It's by that they hold them. That's
why it's such folly for people to think they can go into
ROSAMUND'S STORY 97
occult societies in order to find out their secrets and
come out unscathed. Peter hadn't realised their
power. He thought that as he'd been tricked into
joining these societies by false pretences he had a right
to expose them publicly. He even thought he could
defy them. But by degrees a change came over him.
I noticed that his mind was becoming confused-
his memory seemed to be failing."
Then in a low voice, staring straight before her as if
looking at some distant vision, Rosamund said :
"At last-in the end Peter went mad. One day I
was called to him-his mind was a blank. He's been
in an asylum now for five years-a hopeless case,
they say. Sometimes I go to see him, but I don't
think he knows me. Only once in a lucid interval he
seemed his old self again and said: 'Rosamund, what's
the matter with me ? ' I said : ' You've been ill a
long time, Peter.' Then he said : ' Yes, I remember,
and it all happened through Doctor Hensley.' After
that his mind went again. That's the end of the
story.''
There was a long silence. Kavanagh sat bewildered,
his clean outdoor mind refusing to grasp such things as
these. Then he said :
"It's a terrible story, Rosamund. It was good of
you to tell us. But I'm afraid it must have been very
painful for you, going all over it again.''
"I wouldn't have done it for the world if it hadn't
been to help you. But now I know what you and
Jimmy are doing, I felt yoti ought to know more about
what you are up against. It's not really a political
battle, but a war between the powers of good and evil."
" But the powers of evil can't hurt us," said
Kavanagh.
7
"Not you, perhaps. You've never established any
contact with them, they might sit round for ever
directing punitive currents against you, and you'd
never feel it. Still, they'll try to get at you by other
means. They tried to down me as soon as they knew I
had turned against them. Sometimes the telephone
bell would ring, and when I answered it, voices would
say: 'Don't think you can escape us ! We're going
to ruin you-to ruin you. We shall pursue you
wherever you go to the last day of your life!' Think
what that would mean to you in your political career,
Terence! For they'll ruin you if they can, once you
come out openly against them. Remember, they
have their agents everywhere."
Kavanagh looked across at Brandon. Was all this
possible in twentieth-century England? For the
moment he couldn't help wondering whether Rosa-
mund had been carried away by her imagination.
But Brandon nodded assent.
" There are some queer cases of this sort on record."
he said. "It almost seems as if they have been able
sometimes to injure people. Remember some of the
mysterious deaths and illnesses we've discussed that
have seemed, to say the least of it, too opportune.
But of course there may be some natural explanation.
Poison, £or example. Anyhow, whatever powers
they may profess, the great thing is not to fear them.
For the so-called power of occultism and black magic
is really a sort of hypnotism working on minds weak-
ened by fear. If really they've been able to injure
people it is those who, as Rosamund says, have
established a contact with them by taking an oath and
joining some occult group, and who are then afraid of
their vengeance. Believe me, Rosamund, there's no
ROSAMUND'S STORY 99
'occult power' in the oath itself, there's only the fear
of what may happen if you break it that can hurt you.
It was that that preyed on Peter's mind and sent him
off his head."
" But Peter didn't seem to be afraid."
"No. But deep down in his subconsciousness fear
was lurking. It's the same with you, although you
may not know it. That's the real cause of the dreams
that trouble you."
Rosamund shook her head.
"I can't stop myself dreaming."
" Yes, you can. Quite simply. Listen, Rosamund,
you've got to get all this out of your mind. Come and
talk to me about it whenever you feel inclined, and
I'll soon show you how these dreams and experiences
like you had last night can be prevented. It's really
that you're afraid to face things in your past life.
But haven't we all done things in our past we're sorry
for, that we're ashamed of ? I'm sure I have-done
worse things than you have. If you'll let me, I'll
make you see that there's nothing to be afraid of.
It's all over and done with. Put it behind you once
and for all, and you'll find that these dreams and
memories will cease to trouble you."
" Ah, if only I could feel that ! " Rosamund said
with a sigh.
"You can, my dear, believe me-and trust me too,"
said Brandon, with a feeling in his voice that surprised
both his companions and himself. " I've had some
experience of this sort of thing before, and I believe I
can help you. Remember, the object of occultism is to
enslave the mind, so the cure is to set it free by thinking
for oneself."
"Ah, you're right there, Jimmy. I'd realised that
roo THE SECRET OF THE ZODIAC
already. That's why I wanted to work for Terence.
You see, I'd discovered that part of the cure for myself.
I felt I must get right away from the whole thing. But
more than that, I mustn't love or hate or feel-I must
have no emotions. I must only work."
"There you're hopelessly wrong, my dear Rosa-
mund!" cried Brandon. "You must love and hate,
but in the right way, as you'll see in time."
Rosamund smiled, half sadly. "Well, who knows?"
CHAPTER VII
KAVANAGH HUNTSFOR DRAGONS
RosAMUND'sstory had the effect of further changing
Kavanagh's outlook. His political development had
advanced in three stages. At first his interest in
world affairs had been quite impersonal and dispas-
sionate. He had felt it his duty to offer himself as a
parliamentary candidate to the only Party he believed
to be capable of stopping the rot that was spreading
through the country and of defeating the Bolshevist
r,onspiracy. For to him, at that date, as to others of
his kind, it was Bolshevism as a system, organised by
the present rulers of Russia, that constituted the
menace ; once the Soviet regime fell-as it must do
sooner or later-he had imagined that the trouble
would be ended.
Then his talks with Brandon had taken him a step
farther, and shown him that Moscow was only the
visible headquarters of the world conspiracy, and
consequently that the fight against Bolshevism was
only a part of the war to be waged. But still he had
continued to occupy himself mainly with the political
side of the situation and to regard the secret forces, of
which Brandon had spoken, as a "side show," the
very existence of which was more or less hypothetical.
It was not that he underrated the value of Brandon's
investigations, for he knew the amazing industry and
exactness he brought to his work, only he felt vaguely
that Brandon's interest in this particular line of
IOI
research might have led him to over-estimate its
importance.
But now Rosamund's story had brought the whole
thing home to him in a way no amount of type-
written documents or secret files could have done.
" The Hidden Power " had ceased to be a vague term
denoting something that need never come within the
range of his experience, but a very real force, a force
so potent that it had been able to blast the life of the
woman he loved. And as he thought of all she had
passed through, his whole soul rose in revolt at the
system of legislation that could let such things be
whilst D.O.R.A. interfered with the most harmless
distractions and amenities of everyday existence.
Well, if the defence of the realm did not consist in
defending youth and innocence against these diabolical
influences, it was up to everyone who called himself a
man to rise and fight them on his own account. In
his attitude there was something of the knight-errant
as well as the crusader. It was no longer only a sacred
cause to which he wanted to devote himself, he longed
also to go out and slay the dragons that had lain in
his lady's path.
But were the dragons to be found? How was he, a
simple soldier, who had never dabbled in the occult, to
find his way into a Temple of the Phrenix or strike the
path that led obscurely to the Hidden Chiefs?
" If only Rosamund could put us on the track of
some of these people ! " he said to Brandon. " By
the way, now that she's told us her story, don't you
think the time has come to take her more into our
confidence ? "
Brandon thought for a moment and then answered
slowly:
KAVANAGH HUNTS FOR DRAGONS ro3
" Yes, I think it has. It's terribly difficult of
course to know whom one can trust. Lots of fellows
in our line of business go on the tack of trusting no
one. It's easy to do that, but it gets you nowhere.
If you're a complete clam you'll find everyone else a
clam too. The thing is to know just how much one
can say and to whom one can say it."
"Exactly. It seems to me that one may lose as
much by saying nothing as by saying too much. It
was the little we did say to Rosamund that opened her
lips and led to her telling us all she did."
" And she must know a good deal more. Yes, I
believe she can be trusted, and she might be very useful
to us. The line she's been on is the one I'm just now
keenest on following up because it's the most difficult
to get on to. The Communists' game is comparatively
easy to keep track of ; they make no secret of what
they're out for or of the fact they're run by Moscow,
and investigations lead no farther than that."
"No. I suppose one might call Moscow merely the
G.H.Q. on the front of the revolutionary movement.
What we want to get at is the War Office or the brains
at the back of it all."
" I don't think I should give Moscow even as much
importance as that. I should call it merely the G.H.Q.
of the class war, which is only a part of the revolu-
tionary movement."
" But which surely includes the war against re-
ligion ? "
"As an accessory to the class war. You can't
make the working classes see red as long as they
believe in a Hereafter. Convince them that this life
is all, and they're ready to turn and pillage every-
thing-we all would, it's human nature. Inhibitions
rn4 THE SECRET OF THE ZODIAC
produced by generations of religious belief and religious
teaching are all that stand between us and the jungle.
The revolutionaries of all ages have recognised that."
"But don't you think that there's a real war against
religion for its own sake as well? Waged for the pure
love of evil ? "
"Yes, and that's not done by violence. Peaceful
undermining of all religious beliefs is far more effectual
than the ravings of the Bezbojniki of Russia. It's the
brains behind all that sort of thing we want to get at.
And one's more likely to do it by following up the
kind of people Rosamund's been in touch with than
by tracking down Communists. They're much nearer
the centre of things. I doubt whether any of our
native ' Reds ' know anything about the Zodiac or
ever heard of its existence. I doubt whether even the
present rulers of Russia have ever come directly into
touch with it. But men like Doctor Hensley may very
well be in contact with one or more of the Hidden
Twelve. That's the sort of clue Rosamund might help
us to follow. Let's ring her up and ask if we can drop
in this evening-then we can talk it all over with her."
The three had often foregathered lately in Rosa-
mund's sitting-room on the ground floor of the little
house in Hertford Street, where she lived with her
mother. And sometimes Kavanagh, feeling that
Brandon could do more to help Rosamund if they
were left alone, kept tactfully away, and the two
would sit on into the night talking-Rosamund
unburdening her mind of the memories that tormented
her, Brandon showing her step by step how these latent
fears might be met and conquered. It was extra-
ordinary, the girl felt, the way Jimmy seemed to
understand and to give her strength. Gradually
KAVANAGH HUNTS FOR DRAGONS 105
dreams ceased to trouble her and her peace of mind
returned.
So this evening they met again, and Rosamund was
let into the secret of Brandon's "double life" and of
the quest on which he and Kavanagh were engaged.
" It's frightfully interesting," she said at last, "and
frightfully important. And if all I've been through
can be made of use to you it won't have been in
vain."
For a moment she sat looking at them thoughtfully
and then said :
"Now that you've got on to the occult side of the
business, I think you ought to know more."
"Yes, what we want most is documentary evidence,"
said Brandon. "All you've told us is extraordinarily
interesting, but we want names, dates, facts that no
one can dispute."
" Then would these help you ? "
And getting up, Rosamund went to a cupboard
from which she took out a large pile of documents and
placed them on the table.
" The papers of the Order of the Phcenix and some
other groups of the same kind."
" Capital," said Brandon. " That's just the sort of
thing we want."
"I suppose," Rosamund went on meditatively,
"that some people might say it was a breach of con-
fidence for me to show them to you. For of course
they're absolutely secret-only for the eyes of mem-
bers. But Peter and I both felt that considering the
way we were deceived on entering the Order, we were
justified in treating our obligations as null and void.
What do you say ? "
" I say that of course you're justified," said Kava-
rn6 THE SECRET OF THE ZODIAC
nagh. "If I pay for a course of Professor Robinson's
Memory Training which I promise to regard as con-
fidential, and then find it's a scheme for blowing up the
Houses of Parliament, I'm not bound to keep it dark,
am I ? You went into this in all good faith, and
found you had been trapped. Innocent people who
are tricked into an oath of secrecy not to reveal what
they believe to be harmless mysteries and then dis-
cover that they've been roped into a conspiracy, have
every right to give the show away. In fact, it's their
duty to prevent other victims being caught in the
same way."
"Exactly," said Brandon. " So let's have a look
at the documents, Rosamund."
" Right. Here they are. The little paper books
are rituals-you can keep them if you like, Jimmy."
"Thanks," said Brandon. "They'll be an addition
to my collection of masonic manuals. It's been a
hobby of mine for years. I've got the rituals of the
oddest kinds of Orders. The United States teem
with them. By the way, do these give any signs
and pass-words ? " he added, picking up one of the
books and turning over the pages.
"Yes, a few. And I can tell you others," said
Rosamund.
"Good. It's always useful to learn a new grip or
sign. One never knows when one may want to use.it."
" But supposing anyone gives you a sign that you
don't know the answer to?" asked Kavanagh.
"Then I invent one, and they imagine I've reached
a higher grade than they have, and respect me accord-
ingly. Oh! there's lots of fun to be got out of secret
societies."
" Yes, as long as you keep outside them," Rosamund
said with a faint shudder. "It's no joke when you
get into their power. They'll try to do something
pretty hideous to me if they ever find out I've given
them away."
" The only thing is to expose them before they can
do that," Kavanagh said firmly.
"Terence, if you value your political career, don't
attempt anything of the kind," said Rosamund.
"Never give the slightest hint that you know anything
about occult matters. Above all, don't breathe the
words ' secret societies.' "
"But why? Publicity is the one way to kill them."
" Of course. But people won't believe you. They'll
only think you're mad. And those who know better
will make out you are in order to discredit you.''
" Rosamund's right," said Brandon. " It's much
better to keep this sort of thing to ourselves-to work
underground as they do. Then, as I've said before,
when we've got the whole plot with proofs that no
one can dispute, we'll give it to the world.''
" The first thing," said Kavanagh, "is surely to
find out who some of the people are. Is there a list of
membership amongst these papers, Rosamund ? ".
" Yes, here are some of the members of the Order
of the Phrenix." ·
" Ah ! " said Brandon. " Names and pseudonyms.
That'll be jolly useful. Here we are: 'Celer ad Astra'
alias Doctor Hensley, ' Ora et vigila,' Mrs. Murray Bate-
man-I suspect that good lady does more watching
than praying, Terence-and here's Isidore Franklin,
'Cavendo tutus.' "
" Yes, I expect Isidore takes jolly good care of his
skin," laughed Kavanagh. " By the way," he went
on, looking over Brandon's shoulder, "I see there's
Countess Zapraksy alias 'Qurero Lucem,' which
reminds me that I've just had an invitation from
Mrs. Murray Bateman to go and hear her speak at
her house on Thursday. Shall I go?"
"I think it might be worth while," said Rosamund,
"though I don't imagine she's a very high initiate.
I only met her once. She lives abroad, in Italy, I
believe, and only comes to England on visits."
"Go by all means, Terence," interposed Brandon.
" From other things I've heard, I imagine the lady
might be well worth studying-especially if Mrs.
Murray Bateman is helping to run her."
Accordingly a hot afternoon on the following Thurs-
day found Kavanagh struggling up the marble staircase
of Mrs. Murray Bateman's house in Curzon Street
with the usual crowd of curious women and odd-
looking men who habitually flock to meetings where
any new cult is to be discussed.
Countess Zapraksy, a robust lady with red hair and
singularly piercing green eyes, was standing in the
window shaking hands with the favoured few whom
her hostess held worthy to be introduced to the
prophetess of the New Psychism. Amongst these
Kavanagh was not included, for which he felt thankful,
as he was thus able to slip into a place near the doorway
whence he could make his escape unobserved should
the atmosphere become unbearable. Here he found
himself seated next to La~y Caroline Wentlock, who
greeted him with effusion.
"I'm so glad you've come to hear the Countess,
she's simply wonderful. Have you studied the New
Psychism before ? "
" I can't say I have. But I'm longing to hear all
about it."
Kavanagh's eyes wandered round the room. There

was the usual contingent of old ladies who habitually
frequent drawing-room meetings for whatever cause
they may be held, and inevitably drop off to sleep as
soon as the speaker has got under way. But there
were a few young people too and quite a number of
men. Amongst these Kavanagh recognised Isidore
Franklin, looking on at the proceedings through half-
shut eyes with his usual derisive smile playing around
his lips. A middle-aged man with a singularly high-
souled countenance was standing in the background,
surrounded by a group of admiring women. A very
remarkable face., thought Kavanagh. Who could he
be ? He decided to ask Lady Caroline.
"Why, don't you know? "she answered in surprise,
"that is Doctor Hensley, the Fellow of Saint Stephen's,
Oxford. A marvellous man, absolutely inspired, Major
Kavanagh. I must introduce you to him."
So that was Dr. Hensley, the man with the saintly
face and the diabolical powers of whom Rosamund had
spoken I Kavanagh, thrilled at the discovery, was
about to accept Lady Caroline's proposal with eagerness
when the buzz of conversation suddenly ceased. For
the Countess had ascended a small platform in front
of the fireplace and was beginning her discourse.
From this it appeared that about three years ago,
when she was recovering from typhoid fever in Buda-
pest, the Countess was transported-on the astral
plane, of course-into a monastery in the very heart of
the Gobi Desert, where she was initiated into all the
mysteries of the universe.
"Rather a large order," Kavanagh could not refrain
from murmuring to Lady Caroline. But she only put
her fingers to her lips and whispered :
no THE SECRET OF THE ZODIAC
" Sh ! it's all perfectly true. Listen to what she
has to tell us."
As a result of this initiation, Countess Zapraksy went
on to say, she was admitted into the inner circle of
that ancient fraternity which had existed from the
very beginning of time, though shrouded throughout
the ages in secrecy and silence. In consequence,
marvellous powers were conferred on her, and it was
her one desire to use them in the service of humanity.
Of course she could not disclose to them the secret of
these powers, since that was a matter of long and
strenuous initiation, and on that point her lips were
sealed, but she would explain to them how by simple
processes they could learn to develop certain latent
faculties to a surprising degree. Kavanagh listened
bewildered, whilst she described a system of deep
breathing to be practised daily at the open window
facing east, with one hand placed on the crown of the
head in contact with the pineal gland, which was the
seat of man's undeveloped powers. Then there were
various formulre to be repeated, hours to be spent in
meditation, animal food to be abjured, and pulse pre-
ferred as a staple article of diet. It was also highly
desirable to wear a string of blue glass beads round
one's waist, next to the skin-but they must be blue,
no other colour would have the same effect of charging
the solar plexus with magnetic force. The body of
adepts of fhe New Psychism, thus fortified, would be
able to exercise an immense influence on the destinies
of the human race, not only in the sphere of scientific
and intellectual progress, but in the realm of politics,
for they alone would be able to present an obstacle to
the tide of Bolshevism that threatened to engulf the
world. At this point even Kavanagh felt himself
KAVANAGH HUNTS FOR DRAGONS nr
carried away by the Countess's eloquence as she
described the menace that the destructive theories of
Moscow offered to the civilised world.
But before ending her lecture, Countess Zapraksy
went on to say, she wished to draw the attention of
her audience to a wonderful experiment that was
being made in the art of healing. She herself lived in
a villa-the Villa Pax Mundi-at Bogazzo, on the
Italian Lakes, and only half a mile away on the Swiss
side of the frontier a clinic named " Nirvana " had
been recently established under the auspices of the
New Psychism, where remarkable cures were effected
by doctors who had studied the latest methods of
osteopathy and electric treatment combined with the
psychic methods of development she had already
described. Funds, however, were needed to continue
this great work, and she appealed to all present to
contribute generously to the collection that would
now be made in aid of the hospital. A plate was then
handed round and returned to the Countess piled with
notes and silver.
Throughout the lecture the audience had listened
spellbound and, as the speaker descended heavily from
the platform, women crowded round her begging for
further details of her system.
Kavanagh, anxious to glean more information, made
his way closer to the lady, and suddenly felt her eyes
fixed on him with particular intentness. Disregarding
the clamorous women at her side, she stretched out
her hand and, beckoning him nearer, observed abruptly:
" I saw you listening very attentively to what I had
to say. Is there anything you wish to ask me? "
Faced with this direct appeal even the Irishman's
ready wit momentarily deserted him. There were
n2 THE SECRET OF THE ZODIAC
plenty of things he would like to ask her, but how
could he throw a bomb into the midst of the faithful
by a practical enquiry of the kind that rose to his lips ?
But Countess Zapraksy was accustomed to be
obeyed. " I see," she said firmly, "that you have a
question to ask me. What is it ? "
"Well, since you press me," began Kavanagh with
some embarrassment, " I should like to ask, if it is not
an impertinent question, What are the powers that
have been conferred on you? I mean," he added,
noticing the shocked look on the faces around him
and the quickly repressed flash of annoyance in the
eyes of the Countess, " I mean, what sort of powers
are they ? Are they muscular-or--"
'' Of course they are not muscular," the lady
answered sharply. "They have nothing at all to do
with the physical plane, though undoubtedly they
contribute to bodily vigour. No, the powers I possess
are psychic-spiritual, if you will."
"But," persisted Kavanagh, now determined to go
through with it, " what do they enable you to do ? "
At this a murmur of dissent arose around him.
" Oh, Major Kavanagh," said Lady Caroline Went-
lock, "how can the Countess tell you that? Don't
you /eel how marvellous she is ! "
Countess Zapraksy flashed a grateful glance at the
speaker. " Of course," she said, looking again at
Kavanagh, "that is a matter I cannot explain. You
must study my system for yourself and then you will
understand." And turning a stalwart shoulder on
him.she moved away, escorted by an admiringJhrong
in the direction of the dining-room, where tea was laid.
" That was very naughty of you, Major Kavanagh,"
said a voice at his side, and Kavanagh looked round
KAVANAGH HUNTS FOR DRAGONS n3
to see Myra Greenworthy smiling up into his face.
He had met her several times at dances since the
dinner-party at the House of Commons, and rather
liked her. She was so alive, so full of eager interest
in everything going on around her that, provided one
did not happen to be feeling below par, one felt ex-
hilarated by her conversc>.tion. Kavanagh was quite
glad to find her here, amongst this crowd of queer
people.
"Come and have some tea or strawberries and
cream," he said, nodding towards the laden refresh-
ment table. Myra needed no pressing.
"I'm so glad I was born greedy," she said, sinking
into a chair in a corner of the dining-room and
beginning to attack the pile of strawberries wrested
by Kavanagh from a passing waiter.
"You remember Voltaire's maxim: 'Soyez gour-
mand et gai.' Do you think that's the secret of
happiness? " said Kavanagh.
"Yes, but Voltaire couldn't put his maxim into
practice. He had a wretched digestion. Perhaps
that was what made him so impious. Tell me, what
did you really think of the Countess's lecture ? "
"Well-er-frankly I thought it the most unmiti-
gated bunkum."
" Of course."
" Ah, you thought so too ? Then I wonder why
you came to hear her ? "
" I came because Aunt Sarah-Mrs. Schutzheim,
you know, insisted on bringing me. She's one of her
coadjutors. And after all, I've been amused."
" You don't believe in the Countess's soul being
transported into the Gobi Desert ? "
" Of course not. But then, you see, I don't believe
8
in souls at all. I'm a complete materialist."
Kavanagh was conscious of a slight jar. Myra
perceived this immediately and added :
" Have I shocked you ? "
" No, not exactly. But--"
" But what ? " ·
" Well, I was thinking of what Napoleon said about
a materialist-' What can I have in common with a
man who says he is a lump of mud?'"
" Say clay then ; it sounds nicer. After all, that's
what the Bible says: 'Clay you are and to clay you
shall return.' I'd rather that than go on being re-
incarnated as the Countess describes-something like
being an old umbrella re-covered and re-covered. I'm
sure the spokes aren't worth it." Then dropping her
tone of light banter she went on: "All the same, I'm
interested in Countess Zapraksy. She has certain
powers."
" You think so ? "
" Yes, she understands something of what is popu-
larly called the influence of mind over matter-an
absurd expression really, because mind is matter, only
matter of a different kind to the body. Both are
equally worked by natural laws, only we haven't yet
learnt much about them. The Countess has, I believe.
But it isn't through the' New Psychism' that she does
her most important work-that's only camouflage for
the rank and file."
" How does she work then ? "
Myra sank her voice to a whisper. "Have you
never heard of the Order of the Phrenix? ~•
"What do you know about it?" said Kavanagh,
evading the question.
"No, well, don't say I mentioned it to you, for it's
a secret society, but that's the real hub of Countess
Zapraksy's activities-she's one of the Ruling Chiefs.
And Aunt Sarah is another. It sometimes holds meet-
ings at the Olympian Club, which goes in specially
for that sort of thing."
"And are you a member?"
" Heavens, no I They tried to rope me in, though,
so that's how I've heard about it. But you won't
breathe a word to anyone, will you? I only told you
because you seem interested in this sort of thing."
"Indeed I am. I should like to hear more."
"Well, come and dine one evening and we'll have
another talk. And I'd like you to meet Father."
" I should be delighted."
" Good. Now I must be going. I see Aunt Sarah
beckoning. We've got to go on to the' At Home' at
IO Downing Street." And with a radiant smile Myra
vanished.
The merely curious amongst the crowd were now
drifting towards the door, but an admiring circle still
remained around the Countess. Kavanagh as he
approached could hear them repeating rapturously to
each other:
"Isn't she marvellous?"-" Yes, my dear, too
wonderful I "
"Marvellous, wonderful I" said Kavanagh to
himself ; " but they never say what her marvel or
wonder consists in. I don't believe they know them-
selves."
Then Mrs. Murray Bateman could be heard saying:
"We must give a ball in the autumn in aid of
'Nirvana' "-a proposal that met with rapturous
applause. After that a fresh chorus arose:
"Dear Countess, do say you will I" and Lady
Caroline Wentlock's voice rose above the rest saying:
"Yes, indeed we must have a portrait of our Teacher
for the Olympian Club. Mrs. Bateman, do try and
persuade her ! "
The Countess made a modest gesture as if to say she
was unworthy of this honour, but her hostess eagerly
took up the tale, exclaiming: "Yes, Countess, do
consent. We long to have a picture of you to preside
over our meetings when you have left us! "
" Well, if you wish it ! " said the Countess with a
shrug.
A chorus of satisfaction greeted this concession :
" Who shall we get to do it ? "-" Grindell Smith ? "
-" Razenko? "-" Mollinari? "-" What about Cap-
tain Brandon?"-" Oh, of course, Brandon would be
the best, but he's so booked up!"-" Yes, and so
difficult to get. If only we could persuade him ! "
Everyone seemed to agree on this point.
" If only Captain Brandon would do it ! "-" Does
anybody here know him?"
Kavanagh saw his opportunity and seized it:
" I know Brandon well. I think I could persuade
him, if you wish it, to undertake the Countess's
portrait."
Everyone turned appreciatively in his direction.
Countess Zapraksy herself now smiled graciously and
said:
" Ah ? So ? I shall be pleased to sit to Captain·
Brandon. But the picture cannot be made here. To-
morrow I return to my villa at Bogazzo. Do you
think Captain Brandon would consent to come and
paint me there ? It would be better in my own atmo-
sphere. Here the air is too full of disturbing influences."
"I can certainly ask him," said Kavanagh, anxious
not to appear too eager. Brandon, he knew, would
jump at the suggestion; painting a portrait, he had
often said, offered the best opportunity for finding out
more about a person in whom he was interested ;
"especially when they get tired," he would say, "they
are apt to talk less guardedly." And Italy was the
place he liked most for a holiday.
Kavanagh departed amongst a chorus of thanks, and
made straight for Brandon's studio.
"Well, the afternoon has not been unfruitful," he
said to his friend, who was busy cleaning up his
palette; "I'm now quite persona grata in the Coun-
tess's circle, and they want you to paint her portrait."
Jimmy gave a low whistle. " Good. You've man-
aged splendidly, Terence. When are we to begin? "
" You'll have to go to Bogazzo ; she is leaving
England to-morrow, and says she must be painted in
her own atmosphere."
"Better and better. Bogazzo is the one spot I
should like to visit."
"Ah, then you know all about it."
" No, that's the worst of it. I don't know all about
it-only that in some way it seems to be a focus for
Bolshevist activities.''
" Good Lo.rd, but the Countess was eloquent in her
denunciation of Bolshevism this afternoon ! "
"Very likely. She depends, as you know, for a good
deal of her support on the Conservative Party. Anti-
Bolshevism is the best window-dressing she can pro-
vide. Denouncing Bolshevism does the Bolsheviks
no harm-provided that one doesn't hint that there's
anything behind it. A lot of their best agents are in
that line of business."
" Do you think Countess Zapraksy works through the
Order of the Phrenix?" and Kavanagh related what
Myra had told him on the subject.
Brandon listened attentively.
" Very interesting," he said at last, "you've done a
good day's work, Terence. But I don't think the
Order of the Phrenix is consciously Bolshevistic.
Being part of the occult side of the show, it is more or
less cut off from the political movement. But it acts
as a sort of training ground where likely subjects can
be chosen for indoctrination into more definitely
destructive ideas. The danger spot there is Doctor
Hensley."
"Ah, he was at the meeting this afternoon."
"He would be. Doctor Hensley," Brandon went on
after a pause, " is a real initiate--one of the Twenty-
Five and very near the Zodiac. As a powerful
hypnotist he exercises an immense influence over the
minds of the undergraduates-a positively devastating
influence. That's a man to watch, Terence."
" I'll cultivate his acquaintance. And what about
dining with the Greenworthys?"
"Oh, go by all means. I'm interested in that old
man. In fact, I shouldn't be surprised if he were
actually a member of the Zodiac. He's certainly one
of the twelve richest men in the world, and with his
international connections he might well be exercising a
powerful influence on the economic situation of the
world."
Mrs. Murray Bateman lost no time in ringing

Kavanagh up about the Countess's portrait, and was
overjoyed to hear that Captain Brandon had agreed to
undertake it. All arrangements were quickly made.
It was now the end of July; in a fortnight's time
KAVANAGH HUNTS FOR DRAGONS ng
Brandon would start for Bogazzo, and Kavanagh
would go with him to enjoy the scenery and the
society at the Villa Pax Mundi. As the Villa was
small and they would be together, it was decided that
they should stay at the inn in the village and Brandon
would go daily to paint the Countess in her garden.
It was a charming prospect and one that offered
interesting possibilities.
Myra Greenworthy meanwhile did not forget her

promised invitation to dine, and one evening a week
later Kavanagh alighted from a taxi at the door of the
millionaire's magnificent mansion in Kensington Palace
Gardens. About a dozen guests were already as-
sembled in the vast drawing-room, where Myra, looking
really beautiful in an orange-coloured gown and a long
rope of marvellous pearls, was doing the honours with
her usual animation. She greeted Kavanagh with a
radiant smile and, under cover of the buzz of conversa-
tion, said in an undertone :
"If only Father hadn't insisted on having all this
crowd! I shan't be able to sit next to you at dinner,
I've got to be taken in by Lord Mendlestone, but we'll
have a talk afterwards. Father, this is Major
Kavanagh," she went on, going up to a short thick-set
man who stood a few paces away shaking hands with
fresh arrivals.
"Glad to welcome you, Major Kavanagh," he said
with a slight German accent. "My daughter tells me
you are going into Parliament."
" I hope to."
Did a derisive smile cross Sir Paul's dark features?
Kavanagh could hardly tell. But he took an instant
dislike to him. The heavy nose turning down towards
the rather thick lips, the lower of which protruded
slightly, giving a bitter and sneering expression to the
whole face, the hard eyes looking out from beneath
beetling brows, as if estimating one's value and setting
it at a very low figure-all combined to convey a far
from pleasing impression.
"Sinister," Kavanagh said to himself. Yes, that was
the word for it. But as he watched him turning to other
guests he realised that the contemptuous expression
which had so repelled him was not reserved for him-
self, Kavanagh, alone; it was directed on everyone in
turn and seemed to be the form into which his face had
set. Throughout dinner it never changed, even when
he smiled. For whilst seated at the head of the
table playing his part as the genial host, his mouth
widened frequently into smiles, but the bitterness still
lingered round the corners.
Kavanagh, bored between two neighbours-one who
talked to him of all the Grand Hotels she had visited
on the Continent, the other of the gaieties she was
enjoying through the London season-had leisure to
study his fellow-guests. Looking round the table
he noticed that most of them had a certain family
resemblance. Asiatics, he said to himself, and though
the fact inspired him with no antagonism, for he was
entirely free from racial prejudices, he was still fresh
enough from India to feel that " East is East and West
is West and never the twain shall meet." The mistake
these people made was to try to occidentalise them-
selves. After all, he reflected, it's really our Western
clothes that handicap and vulgarise them. All
Orientals-Chinese, Japanese, Indian or whatever they
may be-appear at a disadvantage when they adopt
our way of dressing. Once back in their native dress
they'd lose at once that sort of common air that makes

us smile. Put the massive middle-aged woman
opposite into Eastern robes, with jewels glittering on
her forehead, and she'd be marvellously picturesque,
whilst Greenworthy himself, who in his black dress
suit looked ill at ease, would appear almost handsome
and dignified clothed like a Hebrew prophet of the
Sunday picture-books. Only Isidore Franklin, sitting
opposite him, Kavanagh could not visualise under a
pleasing aspect ; he alone, in black coat or kaftan, in
top hat or in tarboosh must be equally repellent.
Kavanagh had never felt so strong a feeling of aversion
towards any human being.
After dinner, when the men joined the women in the
drawing-room, the party broke up into little groups,
and Kavanagh, feeling rather out of it amongst these
people who all seemed somehow related to each other,
walked to the open French window and looked out
at the garden grimly adorned with grey statues and
clumps of speckled laurels. Suddenly he felt a light
touch on his coat sleeve. It was Myra looking up into
his face with a gleam in her dark eyes.
"Come out into the garden," she said softly,
'' they're all busy talking. We shan't be missed."
And she led the way through the window, a subtle
and delicious perfume floating in her wake.
They made their way towards a summer-house and
sat down upon a stone seat.
"Tell me what you thought of the dinner," said
Myra.
"I thought it excellent,'1 Kavanagh answered
heartily ; "you have a first-rate chef."
"I didn't mean the food," Myra said with a laugh,
"but the people. Not very exhilarating, were they? "
" Oh, I liked them. They seemed so-so-well, so
satisfied." He couldn't think of any other word.
"No doubt they were. You see, they were eating.
But, be frank now, you didn't like Izzy ! "
" Izzy? "
" Isidore Franklin. He's always called Izzy. And
you can't bear him, you know!"
"Why should you think so? " said Kavanagh,
hedging.
"Oh, I saw it in your eyes. Besides, no one could
really like him."
" Need we talk of Izzy ? Surely there are pleasanter
topics of conversation."
" Ah, but I've got to think of him ! You see--"
she paused and added abruptly: "Well, they want me
to marry him."
" Good Lord ! " There was genuine concern in
Kavanagh's voice. It seemed to him horrible that this
young and, yes, charming girl, should be destined to be
the wife of "that little reptile," as Kavanagh mentally
designated him. " But who are ' they ' ? " he asked.
" Oh, his father and, I suppose, mine. Oscar
Franklin's very keen about it, and though Father
doesn't like Izzy it would be difficult for him to go
against him."
" Why difficult if he doesn't like the fellow ? "
" Well, Oscar Franklin is one of the richest and most
influential financiers in the world, and as Father has
no heir, the idea is to unite the two fortunes. Of
course Izzy is considered a very brilliant parti."
"But you wouldn't like it a bit, would you, Myra·? "
said Kavanagh, unable to check the note of affectionate
sympathy that inevitably crept into his voice when he
was confronted by a woman in distress. But he was
quite unprepared for Myra slipping her hand into his

and murmuring as she looked up into his eyes :
"Oh, Terence, what do you think? "
Kavanagh felt horribly embarrassed. There was no
mistaking Myra's meaning. Her glossy black head
was so close that it almost rested on his shoulder, and
that strange seductive scent rose to his nostrils-six
months ago he might have had difficulty in keeping
his head under these circumstances. But the thought
of Rosamund steadied him. Besides, if he had the Irish-
man's susceptibility to feminine charms, he had also
the Irishman's ready wit. So, quickly recovering his
presence of mind, he patted her hand with his free one
whilst releasing the one she had imprisoned and said
cheerfully:
" Of course I think you mustn't dream of marrying
him-if you don't like the fellow. And he certainly
isn't nearly good enough. You must wait until you
meet the right man, Myra," he added in a fatherly tone.
"But I have met him!" wailed Myra; the next
moment she had flung herself into his arms, whilst her
slender body was shaken with sobs.
" Hush, Myra, you mustn't give way like this ! "
said Kavanagh, gently disengaging himself and rising
to his feet. "Someone may be listening. I'm sure I
heard a sound in the bushes."
Myra stopped in the middle of a sob and held her
breath. "Yes, there is someone," she whispered, and
suddenly breaking away from Kavanagh she darted
to the front of the summer-house and peeped out.
But nothing was to be seen.
The distraction, however, had provided a way out
of a very awkward situation. Kavanagh now led the
way firmly back to the house, continuing to talk in the
same fatherly tone he had adopted before Myra's
outburst. ·
" You must take a pull, keep a tight hold on your-
self. You're still so young, and you've got life before
you-life and happiness-lots of happiness."
Myra looked up at him through her tears and
answered nothing. In this way they reached the
drawing-room safely and found the party breaking up.
Myra, controlling herself admirably, shook hands with
the departing guests, and Kavanagh, having also taken
his leave, strolled out to the open front door. It was
too fine a night, he felt, to be boxed up in a taxi, so he
decided to walk back to his rooms and set off along the
road to Kensington High Street. Looking up at the
stars, he breathed· a deep sigh of relief. It had been a
"very near thing" this evening, but he had really got
out of it rather neatly-that bird in the bushes was a
marvellous bit of luck. But what a waste it all
seemed! Some fellows would have been only too
thankful for a colossal heiress to fling herself into their
arms! Why couldn't he have been a penniless
subaltern and not in love with Rosamund? Myra was
really very sweet, her dark eyes wet with tears and her
white shoulders quivering. . . .
But suddenly the sound of a motor approaching from
behind roused him from his reflections, and as he
stepped aside on to the footpath, the car-a small
Bentley-suddenly swerved in his direction. He had
only time to skip agilely behind a lamppost before it
had rushed past him with the roar of an open exhaust.
" What an extraordinary bit of driving ! " he said
to himself. " The fellow inside must be drunk ! " Yet
the Bentley was now pursuing a perfectly straight
though rapid course, and cleared the gate-post into the
High Street with well-timed accuracy. Well, this

seemed to be an evening of narrow shaves for him, and
he was lucky to have escaped so successfully. The
unfortunate part of the whole affair was that he would
have to see less of Myra in future, and Brandon had
counted on his visits to the house in Kensington Palace
Gardens to follow up certain clues. The old man was
certainly worth watching, still more was Izzy, and
where else was the little reptile to be met ? And
how was he to explain the situation to Jimmy ? For
even to one's best friend one could not give away a
woman. But he consoled himself with the thought
that they would soon be starting for Bogazzo, and for
a time the Greenworthy menage need not occupy their
attention.
CHAPTER VIII
THE VILLAPAX MUND!
EARLYin August a party of five set forth for Bogazzo.
Rosamund, who always took charge of her mother
during the summer months they spent out of London,
had no difficulty in persuading her to visit that delight-
ful spot. To her gentle worldly soul Rosamund's
absorption in her work for Kavanagh was immensely
gratifying and could signify only one thing-this
young man with the charming manners and " a place
in the country" had succeeded in rousing her daughter
from her usual languor to the keenest enthusiasm,
and now she actually wanted to follow him to Italy!
Naturally Lady Dare was ready, as Kavanagh would
have expressed it, "to go lepping."
The fifth member of the party was Rigby, Brandon's
faithful servant, without whom he never undertook a
Continental expedition, for Rigby could easily pass as
a Frenchman, and had made a fine art of dropping
into cafes or buvettes and engaging people in con-
versation on points of interest.
Before starting, Brandon made a careful assortment
of his papers, picking out any that were likely to be
useful-dossiers and photographs of people and of
course the rituals supplied by Rosamund-to be
packed in a despatch-case and carried by Rigby.
Bogazzo, which they reached in the freshness of
early morning, proved to be even more enchanting
than they had pictured it, a small village just on the
126
THE VILLA PAX MUNDI 127
Italian side of the Swiss frontier, lying at the edge of

a clear blue lake surrounded by snow-capped moun-
tains. Brandon and Kavanagh put up at an old hotel
on the borders of the forest, and Rosamund and her
mother at a more modem one overlooking the lake.
This arrangement had been decided on so that Rosa-
mund should not be associated with the two men,
helping them only in the background ; besides, it was
highly probable that members of the Order of the
Phrenix might tum up at the Villa Pax Mundi, and
once introduced to that circle she would be liable to
come up against them. She had no wish to get once
more into their atmosphere.
The same afternoon Brandon and Kavanagh set off
on a visit to the Countess Zapraksy.
The Villa Pax Mundi, perched on the slope of the hill
amidst the vineyards, certainly lived up to its name
with its sunny terraces and pergolas of climbing roses.
The Countess clothed in an embroidered garment
of russet silk reminiscent of an Egyptian fresco,
received the new arrivals warmly, and introduced
them to the rest of the party-the Dean of Barminster
and his wife, Mervyn O'Neil the Irish poet, and Frau
Schnorrer, a middle-aged German of ample proportions
who, as the Countess explained, had been President
of the Women's Section of the Prussian "Return to
Nature Movement" until its suppression by Hitler, and
who appeared to be attired only in a bath-sheet kept
together perilously by a large brooch on one shoulder.
"Dear Frau Schnorrer," the Countess observed to
Brandon as they wandered together round the garden,
" she is a most remarkable woman. Out of deference to
certain prejudices she does not appear in public in a
complete state of nature, but of course during the
earlier part of the day we encourage her to follow the
system she has found so health-giving."
" And to wear nothing at all ? "
"Precisely. I always like my guests to do exactly
as they please. Inhibitions are all deleterious to health.
You will do just as you like whilst you are here, I
hope."
"Thanks awfully. But I think I'll keep my clothes
on. And I notice you prefer to do the same ? "
" Yes, I have not yet felt the urge to cast off all
clothing. The climate perhaps is hardly warm enough.
Now, what would you suggest I should wear for my
portrait ? "
"Well, I think some striking colour ... purple,
I think ... yes, decidedly a purple robe if you have
one."
"Good. I see you have perception. That is the
colour that best expresses my aura."
The next morning Brandon set to work. The
Countess, enthroned on an old Italian seat at the end
of the terrace with sprays of scarlet begonias and pale
mauve plumbago framing her head, really made a
most striking model, and but for her habit of suddenly
dropping off to sleep would have been a first-rate
sitter.
"If you could manage to keep awake for about five
minutes now," Brandon found himself repeating, but
the Countess explained that, owing to her practice of
detaching herself from the physical plane, she was apt
to float away on to the astral at any moment. Some-
times indeed she remained there so long and presented
so odd an appearance with her eyes tightly shut and
her mouth half open, that Brandon would put up his
brushes and wander away to a shady corner of the
THE VILLA PAX MUND! I29
garden to enjoy a cigarette with Kavanagh until a
cry from the Countess announced that her soul had
once more returned to earth. At this rate the por-
trait would take some time to finish, but what matter ?
In this land of dolce far niente time was of no account,
and the longer they stayed at Bogazzo the more they
would be likely to discover about what went on there.
At first nothing of particular interest occurred. The
Countess's guests, who succeeded each other at
intervals of a few· days, seemed, with the exception of
Lady Caroline Wentlock, unconcerned with politics
of any kind and no connection with secret societies
could be detected. Most of them were followers of
various odd cults: there was Edmond Vallergues,
the well-known author of mystic novels, which it was
said he was able to write only under the influence of
haschisch ; Imogen Meldreth, the American actress,
who believed herself to be the reincarnation of Semi-
ramis, and insisted on bringing with her a pet leopard
named Ptolemy that smelt abominably and filled
Lady Caroline with nervous apprehension for the fate
of her cherished Peke. Then there was Heinrich
Angstrom, the Austrian playwright, and Eugene
Bramber, the editor of the Scrutator, who studied
Yoga, which necessitated standing on his head for half
an hour every morning-a process which he declared
he found marvellously clearing to the brain. And in
the background there flitted from time to time the
silent figure of the Countess's secretary, Miss McNab,
a pale Scotch girl with sandy hair whose presence
could usually be heard, rather than seen, by the click
of a typewriter in a small room off the hall.
When, as sometimes happened, Brandon and
Kavanagh remained to meals at the Villa, the conversa-
9
r30 THE SECRET OF THE ZODIAC
tion usually turned to literature, art, or the peculiar
philosophies of those present. On the rare occasions
when public affairs were mentioned, the attitude of
the party seemed to be that of superior tolerance
towards the foolish people who chose to wear them-
selves out over such mundane questions as frontiers,
tariffs, national defence, and so on; once the New
Psychism had been universally accepted, all national
and international problems would be settled auto-
matically, and the world would enter on the millen-
nium which only human errors prevented it from
enjoying at the present time. Meanwhile one need not
bother one's head about these things. The only
topic that seemed to excite some passion was Fascism,
which was evidently abhorrent to the whole company.
Extraordinary incidents were constantly reported as
having occurred close by, and as Brandon kept
discreetly to his role of portrait painter, Kavanagh
was left alone to defend Mussolini against the succeed-
ing barbarities attributed to him.
"Yes, I assure you, my dear," one lady observed
impressively, "it is positively dangerous to mention
his name anywhere in public-one is liable to be
thrown into prison immediately. A friend of mine
went to buy some muslin for mosquito-nets, and asked
for ' mussolina ' in a shop, and everyone looked
furious, thinking she was referring to the Duce. And
she was shadowed by the police for days afterwards! "
" Oh, the terror in Italy is just as great as in Russia ! "
said an Italian journalist. " One lives in constant
fear of listening ears-it is like being under the
Cheka I" .
"Yet," Kavanagh could not help interposing,
" you are not afraid to speak your mind here and you
yourself live in Rome. How many Russians could

talk in this way in the provinces, especially if they
were going back to Moscow ? Have you no fear of
being reported ? "
To this enquiry, however, the journalist remained
conveniently deaf.
Kavanagh found himself wondering what Alessandro,
the Countess's Italian manservant, thought as he
handed the dishes during these conversations. But
perhaps he did not understand English or was hostile
to Fascism. At any rate, his dark impassive counten-
ance showed no signs of either approval or resentment.
Much was of course heard at the Villa of" Nirvana,"
the clinic about which the Countess had spoken
during her lecture in London, and before Brandon and
Kavanagh had been three days in Bogazzo, she
insisted on taking them to visit that remarkable
institution. It was an unpretentious building of what
would be called in England the " cottage hospital "
type, situated in the heart of the forest at a consider-
able distance from the nearest village or from any other
human habitation. The surrounding garden with
its sparse lawns and newly planted flower-beds had
evidently not long been reclaimed from the encircling
woodland. The house itself was built after the most
modern hygienic fashion with wide balconies divided
by partitions, and at one end a covered liege-halle where
several patients could be seen lying on chaises longues,
"A charming spot, don't you think so? " said
Countess Zapraksy as they descended from the car
and rang the bell at the gate.
" Yes, delightful and so restful ! " both agreed
but Brandon added : " Rather shut in by trees,
though, isn't it ? In wet weather--"
" That is just the charm of it ! " cried the Countess.
" The aroma of the forest is so health-giving ! The
very thing the patients need in order to purify their
lungs after breathing the air of cities. Ah ! here comes
the doctor himself to receive us ! " and she turned
to greet a man with a short pointed beard dressed in
a white linen overall who came forward from the
entrance.
"Welcome, dear Contessa! " he said, kissing the
Countess's hand.
" I have brought two guests with me from England
to visit your wonderful clinic," she said, introducing
Brandon and Kavanagh, to whom she added: "We
are fortunate in finding Doctor Weingold himself here
to-day. His work calls him to so many other places
that he is only able to spend part of his time at the
clinic-he comes for a few days, and is then obliged
to go on elsewhere to attend to patients all over Europe.
There is no one else, you see, who possesses his marvel-
lous knowledge ! "
The doctor made a modest gesture of disclaimer.
"Still, I have an admirable remplafant-and our
matron, la Sreur Celestine, is unrivalled in her care of
the sick. She will come herself to receive you."
Sreur Celestine, a largely built woman of about forty,
with an oljve skin and crisp black hair, was not long
in making her appearance, and led the visitors into the
salon-a room furnished with Spartan simplicity-
where she proceeded to tell them of the marvellous
cures effected by osteopathic and electric treatment.
"Would it be possible to see the room where this is
carried out?" Brandon enquired.
" Unfortunately no. The doctor absolutely forbids
any strangers entering those apartments-they are
THE VILLA PAX MUND! 133
liable to disturb the vibrations."
"I understand. You have not many patients at
the moment ? " Brandon went on in a tone of polite
interest. Except in the liege-halle there had seemed to
be nobody about.
"No," Sceur Celestine answered, looking at him
sharply. "At this time of year we are never very
busy. And in general we do not have a great number
of patients. We are very particular whom we receive."
" Ah ! And why is that ? "
" Because the treatment we give is suited only to
those who have reached a certain stage of spiritual
development, and they are few in number. Those
who remain on the purely physical plane can be attended
in ordinary hospitals and clinics."
"Should I be admitted? " Kavanagh could not
refrain from asking.
Sceur Celestine, glancing at his obviously robust
physique, answered cautiously :
" That depends on what you are suffering from and
on your spiritual condition. It is necessary before
entering to pass certain tests." And then, evidently
anxious to change the subject, she began to speak of
the walks that might be taken in the mountains above
the forest and the health-giving properties of the pine-
laden air.
"It's all very queer," Kavanagh said after they had

returned to the hotel that evening. " Why on earth
do they have a clinic stuck right away in the forest ?
It must be very inconvenient to be cut off like that
from communication with the outer world."
" I suppose they have a telephone. Still, there is
something odd about it. We must get Rigby," Bran-
don went on, " to do some sleuth work in the neigh-
bourhood. He knows enough Italian to pick up a
good deal that's going on."
But Rigby had already been improving the shining
hours by drinking at cafes and listening to village
gossip which sometimes touched on the clinic in the
forest. "An odd sort of hospital," the villagers
would say," for sometimes it appears to be uninhabited,
and when the doctor and nurses are there they go
their way silently and speak of nothing to the trades-
people from whom they buy their supplies." The
most tactful questioning could elicit nothing more
definite. It seemed almost as if the inhabitants of
Bogazzo were afraid to speak out on the matter.
One morning, however, Brandon, finding that he had
left his cigarette-case at the Villa, sent Rigby up at
an early hour to find it. He himself never arrived
there with Kavanagh before eleven o'clock-no one,
with the exception of Frau Schnorrer, left their rooms
before that time. When Rigby returned with the
cigarette-case it was evident that he had something to
report:
"What is it, Rigby? " Brandon asked.
" Well, sir, there was a very odd sort of gentleman
coming out of the gate as I went in."
" What was he like ? "
" A dark sort of little fellow with a pointed black
beard and wearing black spectacles, black alpaca coat,
and a dirty Panama on his head. An ugly customer,
I should say, sir."
"Was he carrying anything? "
"No, sir. Nothing but a stick. But I noticed
that his pockets were bulging, and he kept a hand in
one as if he was holding on to something."
" Did you note the time ? "
"Yes, sir; nine thirty-five precisely."
"Good. It looks as if we'd got to be up at the Villa
earlier in future. Meanwhile you'd better see if you
can get on the track of the man somewhere in the
village and find out who he is. After all, he may be
only a harmless tradesman."
Rigby shook his head. "He's not that, sir. Came
from the East of Europe, unless I'm very much mis-
taken. But I'll keep a look out for him."
The same day when Brandon and Kavanagh returned
to the hotel for luncheon, Rigby padded into the room
as was his wont when he had something of importance
to communicate.
" Excuse me, sir, but the little feller I saw this
morning coming out of the gate of the Villa is sitting in
the cafe opposite."
"We'll drop in there for an aperitif, shall we
Terence ? " And the two men strolled across the street
and took their places at a small marble-topped table.
"Two Vermouths," said Brandon, looking round
him carelessly. Ah, that was evidently Rigby's man,
seated at a table in the corner drinking grappa I
Where had he seen that face before ? Somehow those
features seemed vaguely familiar. Ah, it was slowly
coming to him-was it possible ? Could this be
Schwartzmann, the principal Bolshevik courier between
Berlin and Moscow ? Yes, it was Schwartzmann-
there could be no doubt of that.
" We're on a hot scent, Terence," he said as he and
Kavanagh made their way back to the hotel. "If
Schwartzmann is employed for this work there must be
something important on hand. He'll probably be off
by the first train; it leaves at two-thirty, so we're not
likely to catch a glimpse of him again. But we must
keep a watch on the Villa in case any other emissades
arrive."
It was evident that only the early bird would catch
whatever worms frequented the Villa Pax Mundi ;
9.30 appeared to be the most likely hour. Did they
come for secret interviews with the Countess before her
guests had left their rooms, or was there any other
object for their visits ? At any rate, Brandon and
Kavanagh decided that they must be there to see. It
might be difficult to explain their presence two hours
before their usual hour for arrival, but Alessandro was
the only person likely to be about at that time, and
should he appear surprised they resolved to bluff it out
by remarking that they had merely come to enjoy the
freshness of the early hour in the garden. The Coun-
tess had repeatedly invited them to drop in at any
moment they felt inclined, and Alessandro could
hardly suspect them of any sinister intentions.
Accordingly the next morning they were up betimes
and arrived at the Villa at 9.15 precisely. At one end
of the verandah Alessandro in a striped cotton coat
could be seen shaking out mats and arranging the chairs.
"If you can, engage him in conversation," said Bran-
don. " I'll stroll round to the front door and see if
anything is going on there."
But they had reckoned without Frau Schnorrer. On
reaching the terrace they found to their consternation
the President of the Women's Return to Nature Move-
ment enjoying a surt-bath in a deck-chair on the path-
way leading to the front door, in the exact garb with
which she had entered the world. Without a trace of
embarrassment she beckoned to them to approach and
take places at her side. Kavanagh, too astonished to
refuse, accepted the proffered chair, whilst Brandon,
remarking, "Excuse me, but I think I left my paint
brushes in the hall ! " vanished round the corner in
the direction of the hall door.
"Coward, to leave me alone to face this situation!"
Kavanagh said grimly to himself. How on earth was
he to get through a tete-a-tetewith a lady not wearing a
stitch of clothing? However, he resolved to look
straight in front of him and not once turn his head in
the direction of his companion.
But Frau Schnorrer saved him the effort of breaking
the ice.
"You gannot imagine, Commander Kavanagh,"
she remarked in guttural English, " whad beace one
enchoys when one hass redurned to Nature-der
ublift one exberiences as soon as one is gombletely
unglothed ! "
"Well, I can't say I have ever felt that-in a Turkish
bath, for example," Kavanagh answered.
"Ach, no, one must be oud in der oben air, amidst
der vlowers and der drees ! Denn one veels immedi-
ately dat one is a bart of Nature-a vonderfulsensation !
So bure ! So elefating !
" Still efen indoors," she continued after a pause,
" once one hass really grasbed der inwardness of der
mofement, der same sense of exhilaration bersists. At
our dinner-barties in vinter, vat freedom of dought,
vat shparkling gonversation ! I wish I could bersuade
you to join our Nudist golony on the Seine ! "
"I wonder," said Kavanagh meditatively," whether
that's what the poor things feel in lunatic asylums--"
" How ? Vot do you mean ? In lunadic asylums ? "
said Frau Schnorrer indignantly.
" Oh, well, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to be rude. I
was really thinking out loud. But, you see, in asylums
I've been told that the lunatics' first impulse is to tear
off all their clothes, and they have to be prevented
from doing so by force. However, perhaps they've
caught a glimpse of the truths you have discovered and
ought not to be restrained."
"Of gourse dey ought nod do pe restrained," said
Frau Schnorrer, somewhat pacified by Kavanagh's
last remark. "One should nefer rebress Nature.
Animals are happy pegause dey liff vree und undram-
melled, aple to gife blay to all deir natural instincts.
Dat is vot is so peautiful about dem-ach l " the
sentence ended in a shriek.
Kavanagh started, and looking round for the first
time in the direction of his Nature-clad companion,
saw, beyond her quivering shoulder, the crouching
form of Imogen's leopard preparing to spring.
In an instant Frau Schnorrer was out of her chair
and tearing madly along the terrace uttering shrill
cries like the siren of a yacht, whilst the leopard bounded
after her in a series of long leaps, each of which brought
him nearer to his prey. Kavanagh, checking his first
impulse to burst into unseemly laughter at the amazing
spectacle of the flying Rubens figure with the leopard
at its heels, was preparing to start in pursuit, armed
only with a walking-stick, when a clear voice rang out
from the verandah: "Ptolemy, to heel!" It was
Imogen Meldreth, who, with the other inhabitants of
the Villa, had rushed out in their night clothes at
the sound of Frau Schnorrer's screams. For an
instant the leopard paused, but was evidently about
to spring forward again when Countess Zapraksy
suddenly emerged from a window and placed herself
in its path.
THE VILLA PAX MUNDI I39
"Halt ! " she said briefly, with a wave of the hand
that threw the leopard back on its haunches. Then,
making a rapid pass before its eyes she seemed to hold
it in motionless rigidity. The next moment the
huge cat crept meekly back to its mistress on the
verandah.
Meanwhile a hubbub had arisen there.
" I told you the animal was dangerous ! " said Lady
Caroline, who had followed in the wake of Imogen,
clasping her Peke closer. "Now perhaps you will
believe me ! "
" Ptolemy is not dangerous ! " Imogen retorted
indignantly." He is perfectly safe with people who have
clothes on. But the sight of that mass of bare flesh
would be enough to give ideas to any leopard." And
she nodded in the direction of Frau Schnorrer's fainting
form, which had collapsed at the end of the terrace
and was now being carried into the house by Alessandro
and the Irish poet. "Poor Ptolemy!" she added,
stroking the leopard's head affectionately.
There was certainly something to be said for Ptolemy,
reflected Kavanagh. The lady's opulent limbs might
well have appeared tempting, and, after all, had she
not herself declared that a wild animal should be
allowed to follow its natural instincts? Would she
be inclined to take the same view now? Well, if she
wanted to go back to the jungle she had had a taste
of it that morning.
Meanwhile Brandon had not been wasting his time,

and as the two men walked back to the hotel for
breakfast they compared notes on their respective
adventures.
" I seem to have missed a thrilling sight," said
Brandon, when they had shouted themselves hoarse
over Kavanagh's story. "And an interesting one
too," he added. "The Countess's control over the
leopard certainly suggests that she really has hypnotic
powers. The cat tribe are peculiarly sensitive to such
influences. But now I must tell you the result of my
investigations. Under cover of the commotion-
for I realised that there was something unusual going
on-I was able to make certain observations. I
think I've discovered the role of the Villa Pax Mundi."
" What is that ? "
" It seems to be a house of call for correspondence.
Lying on the hall table were a number of letters ad-
dressed to names which are certainly not those of people
staying in the house. They're probably not real names.
The contents are presumably too dangerous to send
by post into countries where supervision is at all
strict. I noticed that one or two were unstamped
and must therefore have been left by hand. Evidently
the same courier who fetches letters leaves them. If
only we could get hold of some of them ! "
" You didn't think of abstracting any when you
had the chance ? "
" Too dangerous. Any letter that had been removed
would be missed at once. We don't want to rouse
suspicions yet."
" I suppose the Countess must know all about it ? "
" I don't see how she can fail to. The whole thing
must be arranged with her. I wonder whether
Alessandro's in the plot. We must get Rigby to
cultivate his acquaintance."
But an incident that occurred a day or two later
settled this question. Kavanagh and Brandon were
sitting on the verandah after tea whilst the other
THE VILLA PAX MUND!
guests wandered away along the terrace. Only
Alessandro remained, flicking the crumbs off the table
with a napkin.
" Hullo, what's this ? " said Kavanagh, picking up
the Corriere della Sera, which had just arrived. " An
attempt on the life of the Duce ! "
"What?" cried Alessandro, dropping the napkin
with a start-there was no mistaking the consternation
on his face.
" Oh, it's all right ! " smiled Kavanagh. "The
attempt failed. The Duce is perfectly safe."
" God be thanked ! " murmured the Italian.
"Ah! Then you are a Fascist, Alessandro ? "
said Kavanagh.
" Sicuro. What true Italian is not ? But I do
not say so in this house."
"But you can say it to me."
"I know," said Alessandro, with a gleam of his
white teeth. "I have heard the Signore speak at
meals of the Duce. I understand some English, you
see. As for me," he added, with a quick glance over
his shoulder to make sure he was not overheard, " I
keep my ears open and my mouth shut. In that way
one learns."
" You are here to learn, perhaps ? " asked Brandon,
and as the man made no reply he added to himself :
"A Fascist agent evidently-this is excellent ! "
"Listen, Alessandro," he went on in a low voice,
speaking rapidly in Italian, " we are both friends.
You can talk to us with perfect safety. And you
notice strange things happening in-in this neigh-
bourhood ? "
"Very strange," Alessandro answered cryptically.
" Perhaps you can tell us something about them ? "
" Perhaps. When no one is near. Every evening
at ten o'clock I go down to post the letters. At the
Gate of the Villa it is quiet. If the Signori were to
walk in that direction--" Then seeing the rest of
the party approaching, he went on loudly in a cheerful
tone: "Yes, truly, the scenery in this part of Italy
is superb ; far superior to that of the Riviera."
"It looks to me as if Alessandro was our man,"
Kavanagh said to Brandon as the two made their way
back to the hotel.
"Yes, he may be uncommonly useful. But we
must be careful not to be seen speaking to him at the
Villa. And it would be dangerous for him to come to
our hotel. The village is probably full of anti-Fascist
spies and his movements would be watched. I think
we'll take a stroll after dinner this evening. Rigby
can keep guard on the road outside."
It was a fine moonlight night when the two men,
followed at a short distance by Rigby, slipped in at
the gate of the Villa and took up their stand in the
shade of some dark cypress trees to await the arrival
of Alessandro. The Italian was not long in making his
appearance, and spotting the Englishmen immediately
tiptoed up to them with a finger on his lips and said
in a whisper :
"We must be careful. Sometimes they are about
at this hour. One never knows."
"Who are they, Alessandro? "
" The people who call for letters. Usually they
come in the morning, but sometimes also at night.
But perhaps for days they do not come at all."
"There was one two days ago, is that not so?"
" Yes, the Signore in black spectacles with the dirty
hat. A rat of Moscow ! Che mascalzone I " and
THE VILlA PAX MUNDI 143
Alessandro spat energetically into the bushes. " He
told the German Signora that he would be back
here on the fourteenth. If only our people could get
hold of him, they would settle him very quickly !
They know how to do things I "
"Ah! then it was Schwartzmann ! "thought Brandon.
"Now tell me, Alessandro," he began aloud, then
broke off suddenly, turning to Kavanagh. "Isn't
that Rigby whistling ' La donna e mobile' at the gate?
A danger signal ! "
The three men had only just time to step farther
back into the shadows when the gate of the Villa
clicked open and a woman entered with a valise in her
hand. In the light of the moon her dark eyes and
Slavonic features could be clearly seen.
" The typical revolutionary female that used to
throw bombs in the good old days," murmured Brandon
when she had passed out of hearing.
" She will return quickly," said Alessandro ; "she
has only come for the letters." And sure enough in
five minutes the same figure passed out of the gate
again.
"I wonder where she's going? "said Kavanagh.
"There I " answered Alessandro, nodding his head
in the direction of the frontier. "They always go
that way."
"Into Switzerland? Follow her, Alessandro, for a
few moments, and see what road she takes."
Alessandro needed no urging, and was out in the
road like lightning and following the now distant
figure of the messenger with stealthy footsteps. For
a quarter of an hour the two men waited at the gate
until Alessandro returned heated and breathless.
" I could not go a long way," he explained, "for I
must be back at the Villa, but I followed her as far as
the turning into the forest. There she disappeared
from sight."
" Where could she be going to in the forest ? " said
Brandon meditatively. "The pathway leads to no-
where except-except, ah! the clinic' Nirvana' I"
" Yes, that accursed house ! " said Alessandro.
"You think that-why?"
But Alessandro would say no more than the inhabi-
tants of Bogazzo-strange things went on there, what
he either did not know or would not say.
" But why should messengers secretly take letters
from the Villa to the Clinic? "asked Kavanagh.
"For the simple reason," answered Brandon, "that
the frontier runs through the forest, and couriers be-
tween Italy and Switzerland get them across that way.
The Clinic is evidently their house of call on that side,
the Villa on this. I wish," he went on, "we could get
at the contents of these letters. Have you ever had a
look at them, Alessandro ? "
"Only at the envelopes. I have noted the names
sometimes."
"And they are probably not real ones. Have you
never opened them ? "
" How should I do that ? "
Alessandro was evidently not an expert in these
matters.
"Listen," said Brandon, "would you like to hand
some of them over to us ? "
"But, Signore, they would be missed."
" What time are they called for in the morning ? "
"At half-past nine. Never before a quarter-past,
at any rate."
"And they are left the day before ? "
" Yes. The Signora who has just departed has pro-
bably left some now. But the Contessa goes to bed
very late, sometimes not till after midnight. They
cannot be removed till she has retired."
" Good. Then bring them down early in the morn-
ing, not later than seven o'clock, and place them here
in this hole in the wall," said Brandon, removing a
loose stone in the masonry ; " replace the stone and
then come back at nine o'clock and you will find them
there safe."
"And without the appearance of having been
opened? "Alessandro enquired anxiously.
"Without the appearance of having been touched.
Is that understood, Alessandro ? "
" It is understood, Signore, the letters will be there."
And Alessandro departed with the Fascist salute which
was answered in the same manner by the two
Englishmen.
It was arranged that early in the morning Rigby
should visit the cache in the Villa wall and bring the
contents back to his master. Accordingly at 7.45 a.m.,
the trusted batman duly arrived with a packet of some
half-dozen unstamped letters and several newspapers
in wrappers bearing the stamps of different countries,
including Germany and Russia.
" What a rum collection l " said Kavanagh.
It was certainly a strange assortment-envelopes
addressed, some in type, some in various foreign hand-
writings, to "Herr Otto Schmidt," "Ivan Levinsky,"
"Madame Rosalie Dupont," etc., at the Villa Pax
Mundi.
"Evidently cover names used for correspondence,"
said Brandon, for none were known to him or were
those of people staying at the Villa. "Now we must
IO
hurry up. The sooner they're returned to their place
the less chance there is of their little trip down to the
gate of the Villa being discovered. Get out the camera,
Rigby, whilst I start on the envelopes."
The three men worked swiftly and quietly. The
flaps of the envelopes were deftly raised, and seals were
sliced under with a hot palette knife so that no trace
of their having been tampered with could be detected.
Then the contents of each were taken out and those of
which it seemed advisable to keep copies quickly photo-
graphed. It was a matter of half an hour to go through
the whole collection. Then the letters were carefully
replaced in the envelopes, the flaps fastened down
again, and the package handed back to Rigby. A
quarter of an hour later the letters were once more
reposing peacefully on the hall-table at the Villa.
The first lot yielded nothing of particular interest,
but the same process was repeated at intervals of a day
or two for nearly a fortnight, by the end of which time
Brandon, with the aid of Rosamund, had been able to
pick up the threads of the whole correspondence.
From this it was evident that Brandon had been right
in his surmise that the letters were passing between the
two houses of call-the Villa on the Italian and the
Clinic on the Swiss side of the frontier.
Rosamund's experiences in occult groups had proved
invaluable to Brandon, who had hitherto occupied him-
self mainly with the political side of the revolutionary
movement. In this correspondence the two lines
could be clearly followed-the political concerning itself
with the organisation of Communism and the occult
working through Masonic, Theosophical, or Rosicrucian
groups for moral and intellectual subversion.
"You'll notice," observed Brandon, "that the two
THE VILLA PAX MUNDI 1 47
sections employ a slightly different phraseology, but

each really means the same. For example, both make
use of classical pseudonyms, but whilst in the political
movement these take the form of one proper name-
Damocles, Cerberus, and so on-in the occult move-
ment they form phrases like those in the list of
members amongst Rosamund's papers-' Fiat Lux,'
' Potens inter Potentes,' etc."
"Yes," said Rosamund, "and whilst in the occult
groups they always speak of 'the Great Work,' the
political revolutionaries refer to' the Great Day.' Both
evidently mean the same thing viewed from their
respective angles."
"Which is--?" asked Kavanagh.
"The collapse of our present civilisation," answered
Brandon.
" I'm inclined to think, though," Rosamund said
thoughtfully, "that sometimes the two lines overlap.
I feel sure that some of the higher initiates of the occult
groups are consciously working for political revolution."
" Ah ! " said Brandon. " Then that would account
for the fact that some of these people seem to have two
or three pseudonyms. Evidently these are used ac-
cording to which group is in question-the single name
being.the one they bear in revolutionary circles and the
phrases those by which they are known in occult
groups. 'Fiat Lux,' for example, seems to be identical
with Damocles in the inner ring of revolutionaries,
whilst Frau Schnorrer's alias 'Sola in Sole '-a good
name for her that !-is evidently also Ariadne. But
the most interesting point is the identity of the doctor
at the Clinic-Doctor Weingold-who is referred to
variously as Catiline and' Omnia possumus.' I always
suspected that Weingold was an assumed name, and
he struck me as a man with highly developed hypnotic
powers. Did you notice his eyes ? "
"Yes, and the odd way he kept them fixed on us,"
said Kavanagh.
"Well, listen to this," and Brandon pointed to a
passage in one of the letters. " ' Catiline must return
immediately to Thebes '-do you remember hearing the
Countess say the doctor was called away on the four.:.
teenth to Paris? Now here is a post card, dated the
seventeenth, saying simply : ' O.P. has arrived safely.'
But the postmark is Charenton. Doesn't that r~mind
you of anything ? "
"Ah yes, of Raskoff, about whom I told you once,"
said Rosamund breathlessly. "You think the doctor
went to see Raskoff ? "
" I'm rather inclined to think the doctor is Raskoff.
What do you say to taking a stroll round the Clinic on
the chance of getting a glimpse of him and seeing if
you recognise him ? It would be easy to keep a look-
out without being seen-the forest comes right up to
the edge of the garden."
Rosamund eagerly agreed. As long as she did not
have to get in touch with these people she was only
too ready to help in sleuth work. So that afternoon
the three made their way through the forest, and
stationing themselves behind a clump of thick bushes
on the edge of the garden awaited events.
They had chosen four o'clock as the hour when food
was likely to be served to the patients in the liege-halle
and the doctor might be expected to take a moment's
relaxation. Sure enough, before long, two white-
coated figures could be seen emerging from the
verandah and lighting cigarettes as they sauntered
along the garden path.
"Weingold and his assistant, I suppose," whispered
Brandon-" the rempla~ant of whom he told us, no
doubt. What is it, Rosamund ? Do you recognise
Raskoff? "
For Rosamund had clutched Brandon sharply by the
arm.
"Yes, that's Raskoff all right. But the other
man--"
"Well, what about him? "
" Gustav Mervine ! " Rosamund said with bated
breath. " Yes, I'm certain it's Mervine I "
Brandon gave a low whistle. "Of course, Mervine
the Satanist ! I ought to have recognised him from
my photographs. Come on, we've seen enough. We'd
better creep away quietly."
Once out of earshot, Kavanagh said:
"What's the excitement, Jimmy? Is Mervine of
so much importance ? "
" No, not of great importance in himself. He's
really only a sort of vulgar black magician. But the
queer thing is to find him here masquerading as a
doctor. I wonder what on earth he's up to I "
"It looks more than ever as if there's something
louche about the clinic."
" Yes. And I'd like to get at the real identity of
Sreur Celestine. I feel somehow I know that face. . . .
Hullo! I've had an idea I Wait till we get back to
the hotel."
Arrived there, Brandon opened his despatch-box and
took out a bundle of photographs. From amongst
these he drew a small snapshot of a woman in a Russian
fur-cap. Underneath something was written in
Russian.
"What does that mean?" asked Kavanagh.
" Krovavaya Katya-Bloody Catherine-of the
Cheka or Russian Secret Police now known as the
Ogpu or the G.P.U. She's the woman who used to
amuse herself by holding a lighted cigarette against the
eyes of victims. Do you recognise her, Terence? "
"Yes. Without a doubt-Sreur Celestine. What
the hell's she doing here ? "
" That's what remains to be discovered. And what's
the real purpose of the clinic? That's what I'd give
a good deal to know."
CHAPTER IX
WITHINTHE TEMPLE
THERE was a new guest at the Villa when Brandon
arrived next morning to finish the Countess's portrait.
It was unusually hot, and Kavanagh had gone off with
Rosamund to bathe in the lake, so Brandon made his
way alone up the steep garden path to the terrace.
There in the shade of large yellow beach umbrellas the
house-party had assembled in an admiring group
around a good-looking man of about forty who, seated
at the head of the circle, was evidently engaged in
delivering a discourse.
Drawing nearer, Brandon could hear him saying in
an impressive tone :
"Wars will become impossible when men refuse to
fight--" a remark which was greeted with a chorus
of approval.
" Ah, Captain Brandon, I must introduce you to
Doctor Hensley I " the Countess said, rising and leading
Brandon up to the. speaker, who, without moving from
his chair, bowed graciously.
So this was Dr. Hensley, the Fellow of St. Stephen's I
Taking his place in the circle, Brandon studied the calm,
clean-shaven face of the man of whose "occult"
powers Rosamund had spoken.
" Dr. Hensley was just saying," the Countess ex-
plained, " that wars will cease when men refuse to
fight."
" No doubt. That-er-seems fairly obvious,
151
I52 THE SECRET OF THE ZODIAC
doesn't it ? " Brandon answered.
Dr. Hensley looked at him sharply.
"Yes, but we ourselves must set the example."
"Aren't we setting the example? Of course I don't
pretend to know much about these things, but I had
an idea we'd scrapped quite a lot of cruisers lately."
" But we still retain armaments. As long as we
retain any armaments we are furthering the cause of
war."
"Even armaments for self-defence I"
"Certainly. The only way to meet attack is by non-
resistance."
"I see," said Brandon, anxious not to cramp Dr.
Hensley's style by offering objections. " I suppose if
the Belgians had not resisted in nineteen-fourteen
there'd have been no further trouble? "
" Precisely," answered Dr. Hensley, putting the tips
of his fingers together and nodding sagaciously.
"And the Germans would just have gone home
again ? Or settled down peacefully in France and
Belgium?"
But Dr. Hensley had no intention of being nailed
down to details of this kind, so ignoring Brandon's
question he continued to utter a series of generalisations
in the same slow impressive voice, pausing at length
between each :
" Love of country must give way to love of human-
ity .... Patriotism must cease to be regarded as a
virtue. . . . It is for us to hasten the dawn of the
new era .... Love will become the law of human
life .... "
Brandon listened with interest. He understood
now what Rosamund had meant in speaking of Dr.
Hensley's hypnotic powers.
WITHIN THE TEMPLE 153
" Poisonous platitudes ! " he said to himself. And
those that were not poisonous were simply meaningless
-phrases that, produced in cold print, would not
attract a moment's attention. Yet this man con-
trived to make them sound full of meaning. His way
of keeping his eyes fixed soulfully on the tree-tops, his
slow utterance, the trick of oratory by which each
sentence appeared to contain some profound truth,
above all, those long quivering silences, clearly pro-
duced a deep effect on his audience-almost as if a
spell had been cast on them.
"Like a lot of hypnotised hens with chalk-lines
drawn from their beaks!" thought Brandon.
It was a relief when the circle broke up, and Dr.
Hensley, remarking that he would take a stroll by
the lake, the Countess settled down again for her
portrait.
Rosamund took the news of Dr. Hensley's arrival
quite calmly when Brandon told her of their meeting
at the Villa.
" Then it was him we spotted on the road as we were
coming back from bathing, Terence," she said.
"Yes," answered Kavanagh. "Rosamund thought
she saw him coming, so we turned off down a side-
lane."
"Not afraid of him any longer, Rosamund? " asked
Brandon.
"No. Not afraid. Still, I'd rather keep out of
reach of his rayons. Oh ! I know you don't believe
in anything of the kind, Jimmy!" she added with a
laugh.
" I certainly don't. All the same, I see now what
you mean by his hypnotic powers. He's mastered
the art of swaying audiences just as a clever comedian
can set the house in a roar without saying anything
funny but merely by a certain tone of voice. Do you
call that hypnotism ? "
"Well, yes, I think I do. How else do you explain
it ? "
" By the fact that people go to the theatre to be
amused and are ready to laugh at anything. These
people collect round Doctor Hensley to be impressed
so that everything he says seems wonderful. He makes
them feel his influence-but only those who are recep-
tive to it. You're that no longer, so you needn't fear
him."
" By the way,,'' Kavanagh said after a pause, " we
seem to be getting quite an interesting collection of
members of the Order of the Phrenix here ; besides the
Countess, there are Raskoff, Gustav Mervine, and now
Doctor Hensley. I wonder whether there's a Temple
of the Order here ! "
"I'm almost sure there is," Rosamund answered,
" for I remen;i.ber members often used to visit Bogazzo.
I wish we could find out where it is."
The question was finally settled a few days later.
When Rigby arrived one morning with the letters, it
was evident that he again had something important
to communicate.
" What is it now, Rigby ? " said Brandon.
"I've been hearing a few things from Alessandro,
sir, and there's going to be some sort of meeting in the
neighbourhood one night soon."
" How did Alessandro discover this?"
" From a conversation he overheard between the
German lady and Doctor Hensley. The lady was
enjoying her morning sun-bath at the end of the
terrace, and Alessandro had gone out to pick some
herbs at the corner of the terrace ; you understand,
sir ? "
"Perfectly. In other words, Alessandro_was hiding
in the bushes whilst Frau Schnorrer and Doctor Hensley
were talking. Good. Did they mention when the
meeting was to take place ? "
" On Tuesday next, sir."
"Well, we'll see if the letters throw any light on the
matter."
Most of the morning's batch contained little of
interest and one proved almost impossible to open.
But Brandon's efforts were at last rewarded, for
inside lay a letter consisting of these few lines of
typescript:
ELEUSIS.
FRATRES ET SORORES,-
A great honour is to be paid to you. Fiat Lux
himself will be present with you in the Temple on
Tuesday evening bearing a message from the Hidden
Chiefs. He will arrive about midday by road, accom-
panied by his Fidus Achates, and will stay at the inn
on the lake, where he will remain only one night,
returning to Eleusis on the morrow. The afternoon
of his arrival he will spend in rest and meditation.
But at IO o'clock in the evening you must send a
messenger, who will give the Tau sign, to guide him
to the Temple. Greeting.
PER TENEBRAS AD ASTRA.
"So there is a Temple here," said Brandon, handing

the letter to Rosamund, " and Fiat Lux is to be present
at a meeting there. Have you any idea who he can
be?"
"No," said Rosamund. "I've often wondered.
We used to hear of him as a very high initiate; in fact,
as the nearest we could get to the Hidden Chiefs.
But he's evidently not one of them, for, as you dis-
covered, Jimmy, he's also known as Damocles, not
by the name of one of the signs of the Zodiac."
" No, therefore he's in both the political and the
occult movements. Probably one of the outer ring
of the inner circle-who number about twenty-five.
So if we can discover his identity it will be a great
step forward."
But no Machiavellian methods were required in
order to find out the identity of " Fiat Lux," for
conversation at the Villa Pax Mundi turned quite
openly on the expected arrival of Dr. Otto Brinkdorff
on the following Tuesday. The event seemed to
occasion much suppressed excitement, for Dr.
Brinkdorff was apparently a recluse, a personage too
lofty by reason of his powers and occult knowledge to
mingle with the humbler followers of the New Psychism.
No one present at the Villa, except Dr. Hensley, had
ever seen him, and all were longing to hear the words
of wisdom that fell from his lips. It was disappointing
of course that he would not accept the Countess's
hospitality and preferred to put up at the inn, but the
asthma from which he suffered was liable to be in-
creased by the pollen from the plants and flowering
shrubs in the garden of the Villa-the inn looking
out on the lake would be better for his complaint.
Rosamund was thrilled to hear of this discovery.
" I always felt," she said, "that Brinkdorff was
playing an important part in the world movement,
and of course if he is ' Fiat Lux ' that explains it."
" Yes," said Brandon, " Brinkdorff's a man whose
movements are well worth following. I've linked
him up before now with all sorts of queer cults and
political intrigues. I believe I have his dossier with ·
me." And opening his despatch-box Brandon took
out a bundle of papers from amongst which he drew
a long typewritten document.
"Have a look at this, Terence."
Kavanagh read the opening words of the report
aloud:
" Brinkdorff, Otto. Born in Salzburg 1880, but
claims to be a native of Lausanne. Illegitimate."
"Odd how many of these people are illegitimate,"
interposed Brandon. " The fact seems to give them
a sort of grudge against society which makes them want
to destroy it. Go on."
Kavanagh continued. " Mother was in employment
of Archduke Leopold as a governess to his children.
Father believed to be Fleischmann, the well-known
Frankfurt banker. Brinkdorff was at Ingeborg
University, where would have occupied Chair of
Philosophy if health had not given way owing to
occult practices. Suffers from occasional lapses of
memory and addicted to cocaine, otherwise faculties
unimpaired. Brinkdorff is a Rose Croix, a 33° Grand
Orient and 90° Rite of Misraim."
Further details followed with regard to Brinkdorff's
relations with the underground Communist move-
ment and certain Pan-German secret societies. At
the same time a number of discreditable incidents
were recorded against him during his stay at the
University. His visit to Oxford in 1928, of which
Rosamund had spoken, was also mentioned, and the
fact that he had enlisted supporters amongst the
undergraduates.
" Do you think all this is known to the authorities
in England? " asked Kavanagh.
"His Communist activities are bound to be,"
Brandon answered. " Their files in that respect are
fairly complete. But his connection with secret
societies would not come into their sphere of observa-
tion-the police know nothing about them. I once
mentioned the Grand Orient to the Home Secretary
and he had never heard of it."
"Yet, in spite of all that is known about Brinkdorff,
he is allowed to come to England and rope in recruits
at the universities ? "
" Oh yes," said Rosamund, " he's much respected at
Oxford. And he has a number of influential supporters
-the Dean of Barminster, Brogden, who was Minister
for Education, not to speak of Doctor Hensley. In
fact, the Prime Minister himself had him to lunch."
" But, good heavens, why didn't the authorities
warn him?"
"As a matter of fact," answered Brandon, "I
believe the P.M. was warned, but was afraid of being
thought 'reactionary.' Besides, he was understood
to say that someone he wanted to do a favour to asked
him to invite Brinkdorff."
"That 'someone' being Oscar Franklin, I'll bet,"
laughed Kavanagh. "I'm told the P.M. consults
him about everything."
" More than likely. But to return to the matter
in hand. What use are we going to make of
Brinkdorff's visit to Bogazzo ? "
" I wish we could get into the Temple on Tuesday
and hear what he has to say."
" So do I. But I can't for the life of me see how
we're to manage that."
Brandon was silent for a moment and then added :
WITHIN THE TEMPLE 1 59
"At any rate, let's go and have a look at him on his

arrival. We can be hovering round the inn-the
Capello Nero, isn't it ?-about midday and watch
for cars arriving. I should like uncommonly to see
that gentleman at close quarters."
Accordingly at a quarter to twelve on Tuesday
Brandon and Kavanagh, strolling along the village
street, became deeply engrossed in studying the picture
post cards displayed for sale in the small stationer's
shop opposite the Capello Nero. But half an hour
went by and no car showed signs of stopping at the
door of the inn.
"What about going inside and ordering aperitifs ? "
suggested Brandon.
"Good. We can put in a good deal of time over
that," Kavanagh agreed.
Crossing the road, they entered the Capello Nero and
asked for a couple of vermouths to be served them in
the hall. The waiter, a striking-looking personage
with the head of a Roman Emperor, was fortunately
slow in carrying out the order, and the two men were
able to spin out the drinking of their aperitifs for
another half-hour. At last, just as the clock was
striking one o'clock, the sound of a motor could be
heard drawing up at the door.
The next moment two travellers entered the hall-a
lean, sickly-looking man in a black felt hat, with lank
black hair falling over his forehead and penetrating
black eyes framed in horn spectacles, followed by what
was evidently his Fidus Achates, a short man with a
small pointed black beard, wearing a Tyrolean hat.
" Do you see who that is ? " Brandon whispered,
looking at the latter.
" Yes. Schwartzmann, isn't it ? "
Brandon nodded.
"Interesting to find them travelling together-
' Fiat Lux ' and the emissary of Moscow. I wonder
what name he's travelling under-listen ! "
For the innkeeper, a German Swiss, had hurried
forward to receive the new arrivals and was addressing
the lean man with the words :
" Herr Doktor Otto Brinkdorff, nicht wahr ? "
The doctor bowed assent and, indicating his com-
panion, answered in the same language :
"And my secretary Herr Emil Wolff."
Then, having removed his hat and remarked on the
extreme heat of the journey, he went on to explain
in a precise and pedantic manner that, being ex-
tremely fatigued, he and Herr Wolff would take their
colazione in his private sitting-room. After that he
would rest and must not be disturbed. Dinner must
be served them at nineteen o'clock in the same manner.
He hoped that both the rooms reserved for him were
quiet so that he would be undisturbed by the traffic
in the village street.
"Ja, mein Herr," the innkeeper assured him,
"they look out on the lake. Not a sound from the
street can be heard there. If the Herren will come
this way--"
Taking a couple of keys from a hook the innkeeper
prepared to lead the doctor and his companion towards
the staircase when, from the back of the hall, there
suddenly stepped forth the figure of Alessandro
holding in his hand a large bouquet of flowers.
" With the compliments of the Signora Contessa
Zapraksy," he said with his usual gleaming smile and
bowing as he handed the bouquet to the doctor.
" She desired to present the Signor dottore with some
WITHIN THE TEMPLE I6I
flowers from the Villa Pax Mundi on his arrival."

"Please convey my thanks to the Signora Contessa,"
Brinkdorff replied in halting Italian. At that moment
Alessandro's eyes fell on his companion, and as they
did so the smile faded from his face. But this change
of expression passed unnoticed by the travellers, who
were making their way towards the staircase in the
wake of the innkeeper.
Alessandro, watching them, remained for a moment
transfixed, then stepping up to the waiter who had been
standing by throughout the scene, said a few words
to him in a rapid undertone, whereat a look of male-
volent fury flashed out on the face of the Roman
Emperor.
" Come outside, Terence, I've had an idea,"
whispered Brandon. The two men made their way
into the street.
"Well, what is it ? " Kavanagh asked as soon as
they were safely out of earshot.
" It's this. I've been watching Brinkdorff care-
fully and I believe I could make up to look like him."
" And then ? "
" And then impersonate him at the meeting in the
Temple to-night."
" It's a marvellous idea, Jimmy. But what will
you do meanwhile with the real Brinkdorff and his
companion? "
" That's just it-where we've got to get Alessandro
to help us. You noticed the look he gave Schwartz-
mann the moment he recognised him ? "
" Rather. Enough to kill the little beast stone
dead."
"Just so. And if we tell Alessandro what is true-
that Schwartzmann is an active member bf the Inter-
n
national Anti-Mussolini League, he'll be game for
anything. When it's a case of tackling an anti-
Fascist, Alessandro can be depended on to put his
back into the job. Wait, I see him coming. We'll
tackle him at once."
The street was very quiet, sunk in its midday
slumber, and there seemed little danger of listening
ears when the manservant reached the spot where the
two Englishmen were standing.
"Well, Alessandro," said Brandon in a low voice,
" so you recognised our friend Schwartzmann ? "
" Yes, Signore-the rat of Moscow ! " the man
snarled angrily, grinding his white teeth together.
" And you pointed him out to the waiter at the
Capello Nero ? "
" Sicuro. Carlo is a friend of mine. He also is a
Fascista."
"Ah! And what did Carlo say?"
" He said it would be a good opportunity to-- "
and Alessandro drew his hand across his throat with
a significant gesture.
Brandon nodded.
"H'm. Carlo said that? Now I wonder whether
he could manage to keep Schwartzmann and the
doctor as well, prisoners in their rooms this evening.
Prevent them forcibly from going out, I mean?"
Alessandro stroked his chin thoughtfully.
" In that case it would be necessary to gag and
bind them? Or perhaps to hit them over the head?"
"No, nothing so violent. Carlo perhaps will take
their dinner up to them this evening ? "
"Yes, Signore."
" Then if he could manage to slip something into
their soup."
WITHIN THE TEMPLE
" Poison ? " Alessandro interposed eagerly.
"No, no, Alessandro, not poison-only a drug.
Something that will give them both a good night's
rest and ensure their not waking for at least ten hours.
Give one of these to Carlo," Brandon went on, taking
two one-hundred lire notes from his pocket-book and
handing them to the Italian. " Tell him that if he is
able to do as I have suggested he shall have five times
as much as this to-night."
"Bene," answered Alessandro, slipping the notes
into his pocket. "But if the Signore can provide me
with what is necessary?"
" That's all right. Come along to the hotel and
I'll fix you up."
Brandon habitually travelled with a variety of
drugs in case of emergency, and had therefore no
difficulty in supplying Alessandro with the required
dose of a tasteless and innocuous narcotic that could
be depended on to keep Brinkdorff and his companion
in a deep sleep till morning.
"Remember, Alessandro, we shall be on the look
out at nine-thirty this evening. If all has gone well,
Carlo will make a signal at the door of the inn with
the napkin he carries over his shoulder. Then we
shall know that we can enter safely and Carlo will
show us up to the doctor's rooms."
"Benissimo, Signore." And Alessandro, evidently
entering whole-heartedly into the spirit of the adven-
ture, set forth for the Capello Nero, to carry out his
mission.
The next thing was to enlist the help of Rosamund in
coaching Brandon for the evening's ceremony.
" It's a frightfully bold thing to attempt," was her
comment when Brandon had unfolded his scheme.
" I can't imagine how you're going to pass yourself off
as Doctor Brinkdorff."
" Ah, you haven't realised the possibilities of my
adaptable face. I don't think I shall have much
difficulty in making it a very fair imitation of Brink-
dorff's cadaverous countenance. Remember that none
of the people at the Villa have ever apparently seen
him except Doctor Hensley, who is short-sighted.
Besides, it will be night-time. There's no electric
light at the inn, and I conclude the ceremony in the
Temple will take place in semi-darkness? "
" Yes. By the light of a few black candles."
" Good. Under those conditions I think I shall pass
all right. Now I must mug up the ritual-luckily I
have the one you gave me here. And you must help
me with the signs, passwords, and anything else I
shall have to know. Do you think I shall have to
take any part in the proceedings ? "
"No, Brinkdorff would probably only be expected
to look on and deliver the message from the Hidden
Chiefs."
"Then I'll have that ready. Wait-I've got an idea!"
" What is it ? "
"If only," Brandon said slowly, "it was possible
to send an adept of the Order off on an errand to one
of these mysterious beings, we might--"
" I see," Kavanagh interposed eagerly; " follow
him up and see where the track led to ? "
Brandon nodded. "It's a bit of a gamble, but
worth trying. In this sort of work it's the wildest
chances that often come off best."
That evening at 9.30 the waiter at the Capello

Nero was seen to appear at the door of the inn and
WITHIN THE TEMPLE
whisk away some crumbs from one of the tables in
front of the door. A moment later, Brandon and
Kavanagh entered the inn and, addressing the afore-
said waiter, asked to be shown up to Dr. Brinkdorff's
apartment. Carlo, without betraying the least
emotion on his imperial countenance, turned
impassively and led the way up the staircase to the
first floor. Only as he opened the door of Dr. Brink-
dorff's sitting-room he said in a low voice with a jerk
of his head in the direction of the bedroom opening
out of it:
"He sleeps." And with a gesture towards a room
on the other side of the passage, he added : " The
other one, he sleeps also."
"Good. You had no difficulty, Carlo?"
"None, Signore. The dottore after taking his
dinner found himself overcome with slumber, and
observing to his secretary that he would take some
repose before going out this evening, went to lie down.
The secretary did the same. They will not wake till
morning. See, Signore l" and opening the bedroom
door noisily, Carlo indicated the sleeping form of Dr.
Brinkdorff-attired in his underclothes--which the
rattle of the handle failed to disturb.
"Shake him gently, Carlo."
The man obeyed. But still Brinkdorff did not stir.
"That's all right," said Brandon, slipping five
hundred lire into the waiter's hand. "Now in about
half an hour they will come from the Villa Pax Mundi
to fetch the doctor-possibly it will be the Contessa
Zapraksy herself. Whoever it is, you will show them
up here to the sitting-room. Soon after you will see
the doctor going out with them. That will not sur-
prise you ? "
"No, certainly," replied Carlo, over whose face the
light of comprehension had been gradually breaking
and whose mouth now widened into a joyful grin.
" It will seem the most natural thing in the world,
Signore."
Carlo having departed with a chuckle, Brandon
turned to Kavanagh and said :
"Now we must get to work. The first thing is to
find his ceremonial robes and insignia that I shall have
to take with me to the meeting. Have a hunt for
them, Terence, whilst I start on my make-up."
Kavanagh began ransacking drawers and cupboards.
Meanwhile Brandon, discarding his own suit of clothes,
slipped into the loose black garments of the unconscious
"Master," tied his black silk necktie loosely round his
throat, drew forward a lock of his own hair, stained it
with a dark hair-dye he had brought with him, and
let it flop over one eye as he drew Brinkdorff's black
felt hat down over his head. Then he started on his
features.
"To people who have never seen Brinkdorff in the
flesh," he announced at last, " I really think I should
appear to be his spit and image I "
Kavanagh, who had found Brinkdorff's ceremonial
get-up and was busily stuffing it into a bag, looked
round to see what indeed seemed to be the doctor
standing before him-cadaverous cheeks and large
front teeth all complete.
" Jimmy, it's amazing; how on earth did you man-
age it ? "
" Prachtvoll, nicht wahr ? " said Brandon, mimick-
ing Brinkdorff's pedantic pronunciation.
" But I don't understand-you've made both eyes
black l"
WITHIN THE TEMPLE
"Yes-a fine black glass-eye, isn't it ? And a spot
of belladonna in the other to enlarge the pupil. I
don't see with it very well, but Brinkdorff's known to
be myopic. By the way, I'd better be rather ill to
start with in case I get into a tight place and have to
be taken worse in order to get out of it. What about
this ? " and Brandon assumed a tragically sick and
sorry expression.
"Magnificent, Jimmy-hullo, is that someone
knocking at the sitting-room door ? "
" Yes, they've come to fetch me. So long, old
fellow."
" So long, and good luck. I'll follow when you're
off the premises."
Brandon went into the sitting-room, carefully
closing the door behind him and arranging a solitary
candle behind his chair so that his face remained in
shadow. "Herein!" he called out quaveringly.
The door opened, and the Countess with her secre-
tary, Miss McNab, entered, making the Tau sign as
they came towards him.
Brandon responded in the same manner.
"You find me weak and ill, Sorores," he said in a
weary voice, " yet ready nevertheless to accompany
you to the Temple."
Much to his embarrassment, both women fell on
their knees before him, clasping the hand held out to
them, whilst the Countess exclaimed rapturously:
" At last I am in the presence of the Master I "
"And these," thought Brandon, "are the people
,who talk about freeing humanity from the thraldom
of the priesthood I " But aloud he said in the jargon
of the cult : " Sorores, I salute you in the mystic title
of Amen-ra. Now lead me to the Temple."
Overcome by the honour that had befallen them of
guiding the Master's footsteps, the two disciples led
Brandon downstairs, past Carlo, who stood, gravely
saluting, in the hall, and out of the inn, where the
Countess said in a low voice :
"We are leading you on foot, Honourable Master,
since you decided the fatigue would not be too great
for you. To go by road entails a long detour. On
foot we can take a short cut through the forest by
which we shall reach the Temple in ten minutes."
Kavanagh had determined not to let Brandon out of
sight without discovering whither he was being taken
and, as soon as they started off, followed in their wake
until from the distance he saw them finally tum in at
the gate of the clinic " Nirvana."
Throughout the walk hardly a word had been spoken ;
the Countess, having enquired after the doctor's
health and received the answer that he was far from
well, relapsed into silence.
Opening the gate beside the brass plate which
indicated that massage and osteopathic treatment
might be had within, the Countess led the way to
the door, on which she knocked three times. It was
instantly opened by a neophyte wearing the insignia
of the Order of the Phcenix.
"Welcome, Honourable Frater," he said in a low
voice, making the Tau sign, to which Brandon again
responded. Beckoning to him to follow, the young
man led him downstairs and along a narrow passage
into a small dark room, where, from the garments
hanging round the walls, Brandon concluded he was
intended to change into his I ceremonial robes. Left
alone, he dived into the bag packed for him by Kavan-
agh and drew out a long purple silk garment adorned
WITHIN THE TEMPLE r69
with cabalistic symbols, a sort of Egyptian headdress
which he recognised as the "Nemys" described to
him by Rosamund, a couple of silk sashes of different
colours, and the ornaments composing the Insignia
belonging to his rank. After slipping into the purple
robe, he placed the Nemys on his head, crossed the two
sashes over his shoulders, and affixed the Insignia to
his breast-on one side a Phrenix rising from the
flames and on the other a Serpent twined around a
large red rose in coloured stones. Thus attired he made
his way out of the dressing-room and following the
Neophyte, who stood waiting in the passage, walked
towards the door which, in answer to three more
knocks, opened to reveal the Temple.
It was a long, low, dark chamber, illumined only by
the light of seven black wax candles placed on a sort of
stand in the middle. A heavy smell of incense filled
the air. Around the walls he could dimly distinguish
the figures of men and women in different varieties of
ceremonial robes seated on long low benches, whilst
two others sat apart on a raised dais at the end of the
room. As Brandon appeared in the doorway, one of
the two rose, and descending from the dais came
towards him, making the Tau sign. Brandon again
responded, and stretching his arms out before him with
the swimming stroke described by Rosamund, allowed
himself to be led up to a sort of throne upon the dais.
A silence ensued, during which Brandon was able to
take in the details of the scene before him. In the
middle of the floor was a vault made of concrete in
which the outline of a coffin could be dimly discerned.
At one end of the room was the altar, made of black
wood in the form of a double cube, on which was placed
a large red rose in a crystal vase, a red lamp, a blue
glass cup with what looked like water in it, and a red
cross surmounting a white triangle that seemed to be
made of ivory.
In front of the altar was a table on which five white
marble tablets and a pack of tarot cards were laid.
Incense was burning in a small brazier on a tripod
near-by.
Immediately before him on the dais, Brandon
noticed a small pedestal on which a variety of objects
were spread out-a pair of bellows, a glass of water, a
clod of earth, and a small bowl of oil with a burning
wick floating in the middle. What the devil was he to
do with these ? Then he remembered their signifi-
cance-earth, air, fire, and water of course. Repressing
a smile, he tried to identify the different office-bearers
described in the ritual. Yes, they were all there-the
Hierophant seated on another throne facing the dais,
holding in one hand a sceptre ending in a Tau cross
and in the other a silver aspergillus such as Catholics
use for sprinkling holy water. Between two marble
pillars, one black, one rose colour, at the west of the
altar sat the Hegemon, on the other side was the
Hiereus, whilst the Kerux, the Stolistria, and the
Dadouchos sat on seats apart against the wall.
Of the two men seated beside him on the dais
Brandon had only been able to catch a glimpse; in
one he recognised Dr. Hensley, whilst the other-a
stout man with a short beard-seemed to him vaguely
familiar. He was now unable to take a further look
without turning his head and appearing to stare into
his neighbour's face, so he sat rigidly motionless, only
allowing his eyes to wander over the assembly.
Amongst the figures ranged round the walls he now
perceived Countess Zapraksy, Miss McNab, and Frau
Schnorrer, whilst one of the three blindfolded candi-

dates for initiation seated near the door was clearly no
other than that shining light of Conservative drawing-
rooms-Lady Caroline Wentlock.
During the continued silence Brandon wondered
anxiously whether he would be called upon to begin
the ceremony, but his mental tension was soon relieved
by the voice of the Hegemon announcing : " The
Master of the Gateway will now open the Temple."
Whereupon the Hierophant from his throne called
upon each officer in turn to state his office and duty.
As one after another rose and responded to the sum-
mons Brandon breathed a sigh of relief-evidently
Rosamund had been right in concluding his role was
only to be that of the presiding genius.
The Hierophant now left his throne and advanced
towards the altar, followed by the Kerux carrying a
lamp, the Stolistria bearing cups of water, and the
Dadouchos wielding fire censers. Then passing to
each corner of the Temple the Celebrant proceeded to
sprinkle water to the four points of the compass from
the silver aspergillus, intoning the while a sort of
incantation in what appeared to be a mixture of Ger-
man and Hebrew :
"Water descending from Binah ... pure water
. . water of contemplation . . . fire of Geburah
.. fire of aspiration .... "
Brandon, seated motionless on the dais, felt a sense
of unreality creeping over him, the dim light, the
voluptuous Eastern smell of the incense, the chanting
voice of the Hierophant, to which other chanting
voices responded in the same key, the bizarre decora-
tions of the Temple, the silent figures in their strange
robes seated round the walls-all seemed like some
mad dream from which unhappily there seemed no
hope of soon awakening. For the ceremony-in parts
like a parody of the Catholic Mass-went on endlessly.
Brandon judged at last that quite an hour must have
gone by since he entered the Temple. How could people
spend their nights in this weary kind of masquerade ?
Now came the ceremony of initiation, when three
candidates, their eyes bandaged, were solemnly
paraded round the Temple and then led up to the
altar, where they knelt down asking for Light, and
with their hands placed upon the marble tablets took
the obligation to secrecy under penalty of expulsion
and death or palsy from punitive current of will.
The Hierophant then seated himself again on his
throne and after a discourse on the Hebrew Cabbala,
proceeded to make the following announcement :
"Fratres et Sorores, our very honoured Frater
Fiat Lux will now deliver the message communicated
to him by the Secret and Hidden Chiefs of the Inner
Order."
Brandon was quite ready. His plan of campaign
had been carefully thought out. From certain
passages in the intercepted correspondence he had
gathered that another member of the Twenty-five,
who was in touch with one of the Hidden Chiefs
located in Bavaria, and referred to as Semper Paratus,
was to be present this evening. If this person could
be despatched to the Hidden Chief or member of the
Zodiac in question, it would be possible, by following
on his track, to discover the identity of at least one
member of that mysterious circle.
Accordingly in a solemn voice he delivered the
following oration in German :
" Fratres et Sorores. The Secret and Hidden Chiefs
of the Inner Order send you greeting. They commend

you for your zeal in carrying out the Great Work.
Before long your efforts will be rewarded. The world
is awaking. The light shines from the East, and soon
the whole Western hemisphere will be illumined by
its beams. Then will dawn the Golden Age of which
the sages dreamed and the sacred tradition handed
down through generations of great Initiates will
become the law of human life. Then wars and
political strife will be no more and the Great White
Lodge will rule supreme over the destinies of mankind.
Yours is the glorious task of hastening that day by
shedding the light on all around you and by developing
those powers which have already raised you above the
common herd of men.
" But further instructions of a precise nature must
be made to you. Therefore it is desired that Semper
Paratus shall present himself before the Hidden Chief
in Bavaria without delay. He will start to-morrow
morning and journey without pause until he reaches
his destination."
Everyone bowed and a voice from a shadowy
figure in the corner answered :
"The Order shall be obeyed."
Who could this be? With a rapid glance in the
direction of the speaker Brandon recognised Grunberg,
an agent of the Soviet Government and a man of far
more importance than Schwartzmann. This was
interesting, providing as it did a direct link between
the occult and the revolutionary movement.
The ceremony concluded with another "prayer"
from the Hierophant and the exchange of mystic
signs, after which the whole assembly rose and moved
to the door.
Brandon was just congratulating himself on having
got through his part with brilliant success when Dr.
Hensley and the man with the beard who had sat
beside him on the dais came towards him and said :
" It is our desire to accompany Frater Fiat Lux
home through the forest."
Brandon could only bow assent, and after everyone
had changed out of their ceremonial robes, the two
men placed themselves at each side of him and all
three made their way out of the house.
" You must excuse me if I do not converse at length
to-night, I am feeling far from well," Brandon ob-
served in an exhausted voice, feeling that the moment
might be approaching when he would have to be taken
ill.
His companions made no reply, but after a few
minutes, when well out of earshot of the house and
alone in the silence of the forest, they glanced at each
other, halted, and the man with the beard said
abruptly:
"I am sorry, Brinkdorff, but we must ask you for
your proofs." The tone was authoritative-the sup-
posed Brinkdorff was evidently in the presence of one
of his superiors.
"My proofs? I do not understand-what
proofs? " Brandon asked faintly.
"Your proofs of identity. We must tell you
frankly that we have doubts as to whether you are
really Brinkdorff. If so you have certainly changed
since we last met. We did not wish to challenge you
before the assembly, but now that we are alone we
must submit you to certain tests. First of all-this."
And Brandon observed that he was making a masonic
sign. Recollecting Brinkdorff's masonic degrees,
Brandon quickly adjusted himself to the situation
and made the answering sign. The man then put
out his hand and Brandon gave him the grip of the
same degree. His interlocutor looked relieved and
then uttered the sacred words :
"Nekamah bealim."
"Pharasch-chol," Brandon answered instantly.
" Can you go further ? "
" Frederick," said Brandon.
"Of Prussia. Good. Now to try the path of
Sophia."
" Isis."
" Osiris. That is well."
Brandon breathed a sigh of relief. He had passed
both the Grand Orient and Rite of Misraim tests
successfully.
"All the same," the man went on, "I must ask
you for an explanation of what has happened to-night,
Brinkdorff. How is it that you, who are only of the
Twenty-five, are commissioned by Sagittarius to
deliver a message of which I, who am also of the
Twelve, have been kept in ignorance? "
Brandon suppressed a start. This was an uncom-
monly awkward situation for which he had been
entirely unprepared. He had not counted on meeting
one of the Hidden Chiefs themselves. At the same time
the discovery was a thrilling one. If the Hidden
Chief of Bavaria was known as Sagittarius and this
man was "also of the Twelve," then the Zodiac and
the Hidden Chiefs must be identical-as he supposed.
But how did a member of that mysterious circle come
to be present at a gathering of this obscure secret
society ? Who could he be ? Scanning his features
by the faint light of the moon that flickered through
the branches of the forest trees Brandon racked his
brains to think where he had seen that thick neck,
that heavy jaw, those bulging black eyes before.
Suddenly he remembered-this was Oscar Franklin !
And Oscar Franklin was of the Twelve ! As these
thoughts passed like a flash through his mind Brandon
resolved to put his theory to a final test, and quickly
recovering his presence of mind said humbly :
" I must ask your forgiveness ; my sight is some-
what defective. I did not recognise you at once.
Besides, I was not prepared to meet one of the Zodiac
in such an assembly."
He had hardly time to finish the sentence before
Franklin said hastily : " Stop ! Do you not know that
word must never be mentioned ? "
" But we three are alone."
"Never mind. You must train yourself to caution."
"Well, then, one of the Hidden Chiefs--"
Franklin nodded, and Brandon, having proved this
all-important point, went on :
" I did not expect that one of the Hidden Chiefs
would be present to-night."
"No doubt that may seem to you surprising,"
answered Franklin. "But it happened accidentally.
I am now on my way to Venice. My car broke down
close to Bogazzo ; it was necessary to stop for repairs.
The Countess being a friend of mine, I asked her
hospitality. She explained that there was to be a
meeting in the Temple this evening and begged me as
a special favour to attend. I could not refuse. She
is aware only that I am a high member of the Order ;
of my position as one of the Twelve she knows of
course nothing. But I thought it advisable to inform
you that I should be at the ceremony in the Temple
and therefore communicated with you at the mn.
Did you not receive my note ? "
" I received no note."
" That is extraordinary. I sent a sealed letter
saying: ' I shall be present this evening,' signed with
the symbol of Capricornus."
Brandon shook his head.
"The letter was not given to me. It must have been
overlooked." To himself he added: "So Capricornus
of the Zodiac is Oscar Franklin! " For a moment the
exhilaration caused by this fresh discovery almost
made him forget the dangers of the situation.
" But the other letter-in cypher-that I wrote to
you a week ago ? " Franklin persisted.
"Ah, of course, to be sure," said Brandon, "I
received that safely, but having momentarily mislaid
the key to the cypher there were portions I was not
able to decode completely."
·Franklin raised his eyebrows and looked across at
Dr. Hensley, who nodded his head as if in assent.
"All this is very strange," said Franklin.
"Very strange indeed," Dr. Hensley agreed.
Both men fixed their eyes searchingly on Brandon,
and as they did so he became acutely conscious of
their powerful personalities-clearly they were trying
to hypnotise him, but Brandon was proof against
such methods, and kept his eyes fixed on the lips of
his interlocutors. This momentarily disconcerted
them, and in the pause that ensued Brandon was able
to think out his next move. He decided that the time
had come to be taken ill.
"Excuse me," he said, "if I do not continue this
conversation, but since my illness some years ago I
have been subject to acute attacks of exhaustion.
12
And," passing his hand wearily across his brow, "I
am feeling far from well to-night and am anxious to
retire to rest."
His two companions looked at each other, then
Franklin said with a nod to Dr. Hensley, "I will bid
you good-night-you will doubtless wish to return to
the Villa. Meanwhile, I will accompany Brinkdorff
to the inn and see him safely to his room."
" Oh, I assure you there is no necessity for that,"
said Brandon, appalled at the suggestion. What on
earth was he to do if Franklin persisted in following
him to the bedside of the unconscious Brinkdorff ?
Besides, on arriving at the inn his features might be
exposed to a stronger light than that of the Temple
or the forest. But nothing would induce the financier
to leave him. Fortunately, however, the inn had
remained extremely primitive, and the hall, when they
entered, was only dimly illumined by a single oil-
lamp.
Still remaining firmly at his side, Franklin insisted
on helping the supposed Brinkdorff up the stairs to
his sitting-room. Brandon struck a match and lit a
candle carefully, placing it in such a position as to
throw as little light as possible on his face.
" Where is your secretary ? " Franklin said, looking
round the room.
" I don't know. He went out for a walk late in
the evening and has probably retired to bed. If you
will excuse me I will now do the same," said Brandon
faintly. And he made hastily for the bedroom door.
"No, Brinkdorff, I cannot leave you alone in this
state of exhaustion." And he came forward as if
to go through the door into the bedroom.
Brandon's head whirled. It was the tightest
situation he had ever been in, and for a moment his

inventive faculties failed him. Then recovering him-
self he grasped the financier's arm and said earnestly:
" Listen, since you're kind enough to take such good
care of me, perhaps you wouldn't mind calling a waiter
to bring me a glass of Schnapps-it's the only thing
that brings me round when I get one of these attacks."
If only Franklin could be got out of the room for
a moment it might be possible to escape through the
window ! But the financier crossed over to the bell
and pressed it. " I can ring for the waiter," he said
calmly.
Brandon, now really desperate, started on another
tack. "All right," he said, " I'll say good-night to
you and go to bed." And he moved once more to-
wards the bedroom door.
Franklin nodded amiably and answered : " Good.
But I remain till the waiter has brought the Schnapps.
Then when I have seen you drink it, I retire." And
he seated himself firmly in an armchair.
"Very well," said Brandon, "then if you'll excuse
me I will go and prepare for bed," and he vanished
through the door into the bedroom, closing it behind
him.
There on the bed lay Brinkdorff, still sunk in drugged
slumber.
It was the matter of a moment for Brandon to
discard the doctor's clothes, but there was no time
to put on his own, for were Franklin to make a sudden
incursion the game would be up. So hastily rolling
them up into a bundle he dropped them out of the
window on to the terrace below. Then climbing on
to the sill he prepared to follow them, clad only in
his underclothes. Whew I it would be a nasty drop
on to the stone flags beneath, but mercifully a few
creepers straggled up the side of the house. Swinging
himself out by the wooden rail that ran along the
window-ledge he contrived to grasp the thick stem of
a wistaria by which he descended gradually to within
ten feet of the ground, then with the agility of a cat
he jumped the remaining space and landed on the top
of a small shrub in safety.
" That was a near thing I " he said to himself,
taking a deep breath, and snatching up his clothes
from the ground, he disappeared like lightning round
the corner. As he pulled on his coat and trousers
under the friendly shelter of an oleander by the gate
a storm of laughter shook him at the thought of the
financier sitting patiently in his chair waiting for
Schnapps to revive the fainting Brinkdorff. By the
way, what would happen when the real Brinkdorff
was discovered ?
CHAPTER x·
ON THE TRACK OF THE CONSPIRACY
BRANDON'Sadventure in the Temple had led to more

than he had dared to hope. Franklin's question:
" How is it that you who are only of the Twenty-five
are commissioned by Sagittarius to deliver a message
of which I, who am of the Twelve, have been kept in
ignorance ? " and his further reference to himself as
Capricornus, definitely confirmed his theory that the
Zodiac and the Hidden Chiefs were identical, and that
the former name was known only to the Twelve and to
the Twenty-five forming the outer ring of the Inner
Circle. Not once had a Zodiacal name been used in the
Lodge, where Franklin, who had afterwards revealed
himself as Capricornus, had been addressed as Potens
inter Potentes.
The identity of one member of the Zodiac, alias the
Hidden Chiefs, had thus been definitely established :
in order to discover a second, Sagittarius, the Hidden
Chief of Bavaria, it was only necessary to follow
Grunberg and find out whither his quest led.
There would be no difficulty in leaving Bogazzo, for
the Countess's portrait was now finished. Rosamund
and her mother were to leave for England on the follow-
ing day. Meanwhile, the departure of Brandon and
Kavanagh had been duly announced and a farewell
visit paid by them at the Villa Pax Mundi on the
previous afternoon. They decided, however, not to
leave together, as Brandon would be freer to shadow
I8I
Grunberg if he were on his own. Besides, it would be
advisable to assume a disguise. In order not to be
seen in this on leaving the inn it was arranged that he
should go early in the morning to the Villa, dress
himself for the part with the help of Alessandro, and
then go on to the station and wait for"the Bolshevik to
arrive. As soon as he discovered Grlinberg's destina-
tion he would take a ticket for the same place and pass
the information on to Rigby, who would be hovering
around. Rigby would then return to Kavanagh to tell
him whither Brandon had gone. Kavanagh and
Rigby would then follow by a later train.
" But what are you going to do about a passport ? "
Kavanagh had asked when Brandon unfolded this
scheme.
Brandon's face formed itself into the crease that did
duty for a smile.
" Seen this ? " he asked, taking a green case from his
pocket and handing it to Kavanagh.
It was a German passport made out in the name of
Johann Straube, with an address in Berlin, and bearing
on the first page a photograph of a full-faced Teuton
with a brushed-up moustache and a slight cast in one
eye.
"Who on earth is this? " Kavanagh asked in
surprise.
" Oh, a German pal of mine in London who kindly
lends me his passport on occasion. Pleasant-looking
fellow, isn't he ? "
" Yes, far pleasanter than you. But surely you
can't make up to look like that ? "
"Wait and see," Brandon said with a laugh, putting
the case back into his pocket.
In accordance with this plan, Brandon, in the guise
ON THE TRACK OF THE CONSPIRACY 183
of Johann Straube, arrived at Bogazzo station in time
for the 8.45 train, and as soon as Grunberg appeared on
the scene contrived to place himself in the queue at the
ticket office, where he was able to hear him say dis-
tinctly:
"A first-class ticket for Brandesheim."
Brandon then procured a third-class ticket to the
same Bavarian town, passed its name on to Rigby, and
took his own place in the train.
Throughout the journey into Germany he kept a
close watch on Grunberg, making sure that he was not
descending at any intermediate station. When at last
they reached Brandesheim, Brandon again placed
himself close to Grunberg at the exit of the station,
where the latter hailed a taxi and ordered the chauffeur
to take him to the Hotel International. Brandon,
entering another cab, followed in his wake, and put up
at an inn not far from the hotel.
All had now worked out according to plan. Kav-
anagh might be expected to arrive by the next train,
and would call at the post-office for the letter left there
by Brandon telling him where both he and Grunberg
were staying. Kavanagh and Rigby would then put up
at the Hotel International so that a treble watch would
be kept on Grunberg's movements.
Meanwhile, Brandon kept the man under close
observation. Calculating that he would certainly
take some food on arrival, he himself consumed a
hasty meal and then going out into the street strolled
about for an hour, keeping his eyes on the door of the
hotel. At last Grunberg was seen to emerge and make
his way towards the residential part of the town.
Brandon followed behind him as he turned out of the
main street, and after about ten minutes reached an
avenue of magnificent villas, each in its own garden.
At the gate of one of the most opulent of these, decor-
ated floridly with wreaths and elaborate cornices,
Grunberg halted and pulled the bell.
Brandon, with his coat over his arm and his handker-
chief spread over his head beneath his straw hat like
a typical German tourist feeling the heat, reached the
spot just as the porter opened the gate in response to
Grunberg's peal and recognised h1m with a friendly
nod.
"Good-day. The gnadige Herr is not at home."
" Not at home ? " Grunberg repeated in astonish-
ment. " But I come by command. The message was
brought me by word of mouth. I have travelled far in
obedience to the summons."
" There must be some mistake. The gnadige Herr
has left home. He went away yesterday on a visit to
the General von Rauschenberg at Stolzenbach."
With an impatient grunt Grunberg drew a slip of
paper from his pocket-book, scribbled something on it,
and handed it to the porter with the words :
"Well, then, give him that on his return."
And turning on his heel he walked back m the
direction whence he came.
Brandon strolled on along the avenue. His quest,
as far as Grunberg was concerned, was ended. It had
led him, however, to the house of Sagittarius, for
Grunberg's words, " I come by command ... I
have travelled far in obedience to a summons," could
signify only one thing-that he had obeyed the order
given in the Temple to present himself before the
Hidden Chief of Bavaria. And Franklin had supplied
the further information that Sagittarius was the name
by which that Hidden Chief was known.
But who was Sagittarius? Brandon determined to
discover. It would not be difficult ; there could be no
secret about the owner of this pretentious villa. So
after taking several turns up and down the avenue he
kept a look out for some local inhabitant such as a
tradesman on his rounds, who would be likely to supply
the missing clue. Ah I there was the postman
approaching from the distance and stopping at each
house in tum.
Placing himself in an attitude of gaping admiration
in front of the villa owned by Sagittarius, Brandon
waited until the man reached the gate and observed
with a nod at the garlanded cornice of the villa :
"A fine house that I To whom does it belong? "
" You are a stranger to Brandesheim, then ? "
" Yes. On a walking tour. From Bremen."
" Ach, that accounts for it. Everyone here knows
that is the house of the great financier Geldbeutel."
And with a brief" Guten Abend" the man went his
way.
So Sagittarius was Geldbeutel of Frankfurt I This
was evidently his summer villa. The discovery was
of first-class importance. There was nothing to be
gained by remaining on in Brandesheim. Kavanagh
and Rigby must be stopped at the station. Collecting
his valise from the inn, Brandon decided to meet the
train which might be expected in an hour's time.
The two travellers duly arrived, ahd Kavanagh on
descending from the carriage swore roundly at being
bumped into by a heavy German with a rucksack on
his back. But to his surprise the man, instead of
apologising, leant towards him and said in an under-
tone:
" Hold hard, Terence. Come and have a glass of
beer in the station restaurant."
"Jimmy I By Jove I" Kavanagh said under his
breath. He had never seen Brandon before in his
role of Johann Straube and could hardly believe his
eyes. That the same man could impersonate the
cadaverous and intellectual Brinkdorff and this gross
middle-class ·German tourist seemed incredible until
one remembered the resources of what Brandon called
his adjustable features and the effect that a different
set of false teeth, an eye with a cast in it, and
"plumpers" could produce. But this would have
been nothing without Brandon's capacity for changing
his expression and suiting his movements to the part.
It was less the plump contours induced by face-pads,
than the heavy German look, the clumsy manner of
moving, and the general bourgeois air he had been able
to assume that made him unrecognisable. Even
before his accident, Kavanagh remembered that as a
mimic he had been able to change his whole face at
will.
"Well, Terence, how did you leave Bogazzo? "
Brandon said as the three seated themselves at a
table in the restaurant.
"Quite well, except for one contretemps. Rosa-
mund's mother slipped on a rock walking up a mountain
road yesterday evening, and is laid up with a badly
sprained ankle. So they won't be able to leave for
some days. I don't quite like the idea of Rosamund
being there without us. If the affair of Brinkdorff
comes out, there'll be a bit of a fracas, I expect."
"No doubt. But I don't see how it could involve
Rosamund even if suspicion falls on us. No one at the
Villa knows anything about her connection with us or
knows she's in Bogazzo-except Hensley, perhaps."
" Yes, that's true. It's lucky we kept her dark.
But now what have you been able to discover here? "
Brandon related his experiences.
"It's a great step forward to have found out the
name of a second member of the Zodiac," Kavanagh
said when he had finished ; " now we've two-Frank-
lin-Capricomus, and Sagittarius-Geldbeutel. What's
the next thing to be done ? There seems no object in
following Grunberg to Stolzenbach."
"No. But it might be worth while going on there. I
should like uncommonly to know what Geldbeutel's up
to with von Rauschenberg-von Rauschenberg, one of
the Kaiser's most famous generals in the war, and a
bitter enemy of England. And Stolzenbach is still
in Bavaria, only half an hour away by train and quite
a pleasant spot, I believe. What do you say to
putting in a few days there? We might get hold of
some information by a lucky chance."
"Right. I'm game."
So it was decided that the three confederates should
go on to Stolzenbach, keeping apart as before, and
staying at different hotels in the village.
On arrival, Brandon put up at an unpretentious inn
and inscribed himself in the visitors' book as Johann
Straube. To the landlord he explained that he was on
a walking tour, but as he had heard that there was
some excellent fishing to be had in the neighbourhood,
he thought of remaining for a few days at Stolzenbach.
But he found he had made a bad gaffe, for the landlord
answered gruffly:
" There is no fishing here for visitors. All the
fishing in the neighbourhood belongs to the Herr
General up at the Castle. To fish there is streng
verboten."
This was unfortunate, since fishing is an excellent
occupation for anyone who wants to find out about a
country district by chatting to the inhabitants.
However, Brandon decided that walks with a camera
might prove equally instructive, so he answered
cheerfully :
"Well, anyhow, the scenery is magnificent, I shall
be able to do some photography."
"Be careful then not to photograph the Castle," the
landlord said in the same gruff tone, "that also 1s
streng verboten."
" And why is that ? " Brandon asked in surprise.
"Oh, it's a way these military folk have-rules and
regulations about everything. And then the Herr
General lives in constant fear of assassination. No one
is allowed to enter his property without permission and
the gates are always kept locked."
It would evidently be difficult to obtain a glimpse of
Geldbeutel. Still, some news about him might be
picked up from village gossip. Brandon and Kav-
anagh resolved to spend as much time as possible in
cafes listening to the conversation of the inhabitants.
Kavanagh, though unable like Brandon to pass as a
German, knew the language well enough to take in all
that was going on around him, whilst Rigby as a
prisoner in Germany had learnt to understand a good
deal. It was decided that he should explain himself to
be Kavanagh's French valet, an ardent Republican,
somewhat hostile to England, and sympathetic to
Germany. In this way the three might be able to find
out something about what was going on at the Castle
and incidentally to gauge the various shades of opinion
with regard to international affairs.
In general the Bavarians showed themselves quite
friendly; the joy of a new and regenerated Germany
glowed in all their hearts. Only when international
questions were touched on latent animosities came to
the surface. Mingled with resentment at the policy
pursued by the Allies after the Great War was a
certain pity for these same Allies who had failed to
strike the path of salvation blazed for them by Hitler.
But these opinions were expressed discreetly according
to whoever happened to be present.
Kavanagh as an Englishman-for his Irish name
passed unnoticed by the Stolzenbachers-heard no
harsh criticism of England, only regrets that in that
country Germany shoµld be so misjudged.
"Ach ! the English! " one would say, "with them
we should be friends. Are we not both of Nordic race,
bound by all the ties of blood ? The war was a great
mistake; our English cousins should not have taken
up arms on behalf of France. An effete race, the
French. For fifty years their population has been at a
standstill."
Rigby, however, as a supposed Frenchman heard a
different story.
" How can you endure to live in England, that land of
wooden-heads ? The English do not understand
government. Look at their unemployed, who are paid
to do nothing I A fine country that ! The French,
now, they are a spirited people, clever, industrious,
thrifty ; they know how to work. With them we
ought to come to an understanding."
It was reserved for Brandon as a German tourist to
hear their real opinions of both nations.
At a cafe one evening a political discussion arose.
"The French and English have no national spirit,"
observed a Nazi. "They are both content to be ruled
1go THE SECRET OF THE ZODIAC
by the Jews-France by those of the masonic lodges,
England by those in her Government and public
offices.''
" England is rotten with Pacifism," said another;
" her young men declare they will not fight for King
or country. A race like that is finished."
" Yes," said the first man, " Communism is the real
force there. Already the English revolution has begun.
Some time ago the King's Palace was besieged by the
mob. I saw a picture of it in an American paper a
tourist left here at the time."
"And when our leader's representatives were over in
London,"said the other, leaning forward eagerly," they
were surrounded with Communists who broke into the
hotel where they were staying in the West End and
made an uproar. Shouted and knocked over the
tables where English lords were drinking coffee. Hans
Schaeffer, who was there, wrote and told me all about
it. But nothing was done to the rioters. The Govern-
ment was afraid to act."
"Ach, England is done for. We have nothing to
fear from her. Look at her statesmen I Already they
have lost India. We have a leader, and we shall soon
show the world what we can do!"
" And now that our Government is Jew-clean we
shall no longer be betrayed l " added one young man
more truculent than the rest, with a triumphant glance
at a Semitic neighbour.
"We are as good Germans as you," the Jew replied
meekly; "we fought with you in the war. And we
conquered Russia."
" Yes, you were good for that. But your bankers
sold us in return for Palestine. We were never beaten in
the field. If we go to war again we shall be victorious.
And this time Russia will be with us."

"Then perhaps we shall have a Socialist Germany I "
a Social Democrat ventured to observe, whereat a
brawl arose, and the landlord of the cafe had to inter-
fere and separate the combatants.
But on one point both Nazis and Social Democrats
were agreed-the Treaty of Versailles and the League
of Nations were both absurd. Germany must be
allowed freedom to arm. Eternal peace was idle talk.
Force was the only thing that counted-a sentiment
with which Brandon was able truthfully to express his
agreement.
General von Rauschenberg appeared to be unpopular
with both Nazis and Social Democrats; the Social
Democrats disliking him as a supporter of the monarchy
and the Nazis distrusting him for his lack of ardour in
the cause of anti-Semitism. " He would never consent
to getting rid of the Jewish business men," they would
say. " But then his grandmother was a Rosenblatt, of
Frankfurt, so what can one expect?"
At stated hours of the day Brandon and Kavanagh
arranged to meet on a bridge outside the village and
stroll into the wood close by so as to compare notes far
from listening ears.
"What I can't understand," Kavanagh said, "is
why a Pan-German General should be fraternising with
a member of the Zodiac, who in his tum is giving
orders to a representative of the Soviet Government."
" Yes, it may seem odd, but Geldbeutel is one of the
principal controllers of German industry, and was
the representative of the Entwaffnungs Commission
of the V.V.I.D., whose avowed job was to carry out
the Treaty of Versailles, but whose real aim was to arm
Germany. They worked in with the Bolsheviks to
make forbidden arms, submarines, poison gas, and so
on. The General being one of the old Monarchist gang
which believed in co-operating with Moscow to bring
about a war of revenge, therefore finds a useful ally in
Geldbeutel. Some years ago at any rate he was a
member of the Druidenorden, whose idea was to help
Communist propaganda to spread in other countries
and so start the rot. These people think they're
clever enough to stop it in Germany, whilst the Bol-
sheviks on their part feel sure they can out-manreuvre
the Germans when the share-out comes. Their real
aims of course are poles apart, but the means to the
end-world revolution outside Germany-is the same.
They'll work together till France and England are
down and out."
"Then you think the General's not altogether hostile
to Moscow ? "
" I think he'll be prepared to use anything that would
serve his purpose-even the German Communists if
their violence could be turned against the Allies of the
Great War. That's where he and his kind differ from
the Nazis. They' re for tearing up Communism root and
branch. He's for using it. That seems to me his
game in fraternising with Geldbeutel."
" There is news to-day," a Nazi observed one evening,

sitting down at a table close to Brandon. " You know
that Geldbeutel the banker is staying at the Castle.
And now some English swine-hounds are to arrive to-
morrow. I heard it from the General's manservant.
He believes they are Labour members of the English
Parliament."
"No doubt they are here to intrigue with Geld-
beutel," said another. "We ought to have got him
ON THE TRACK OF THE CONSPIRACY r93
out of the country long ago."
Brandon meeting Kavanagh that evening at their
usual rendezvous in the wood by the river, told him the
news of the expected visitors at the Castle.
"We'd better keep a look out to-morrow evening,"
said Kavanagh, " and see who they are. If you
manage to be at the station, I'll be strolling along the
road past the Castle. We ought to be able to get a
glimpse of them like that."
But recognition presented no difficulty. When the
train came in, the well-known figures of Jos. Bagnall,
James Pudsey, and George Renton-three prominent
members of the British Labour Party-could be clearly
seen entering the General's large Mercedes, but, more
surprising, they were preceded by another figure, still
more familiar, a charming vision in a light silk over-
coat and a hat to which only the Rue de la Paix could
have given birth-Mrs. Murray Bateman.
"That's a rum show ! " Kavanagh said to Brandon
when they met again by appointment on the bridge that
afternoon. "What on earth is Mrs. Murray Bateman
doing in that party ? "
" I don't know it's as rum as you think," answered
Brandon. "I've always told you that lady's move-
ments were worth following. Remember, Bateman
has a lot of money in Germany. He's an intimate
friend of Oscar Franklin. And Oscar Franklin's a
member of the Zodiac-.:why shouldn't Mrs. Bateman
visit another member of that interesting collection ?
By the way, I saw in the paper this morning that she'd
gone abroad to drink the waters at Schlangen bad."
" Oh, so this little trip is evidently being kept quiet.
I'd give anything to know what they're up to at the
Castle."
r3
"That's what we've got to find out. I've been
reconnoitring round the walls, by the way, and there's
one point where they stop and end in a rusty iron gate
that looks as if it was never used. It's locked of
course, but one might get in that way. At any rate I
mean to try."
" It's a horrid risk, Jimmy ; you'll be shot if you're
caught." ·
"Perhaps l More likely put into jail in Munich or
somewhere. We'd better have a code ready in case
I'm caught and manage to send you a message. It's
got to be in German of course, and have cover names for
people.''
Brandon began to jot down some suggestions.
"Suppose you get away all right this evening, how
will you let us know ? Shall we meet on the bridge ? "
asked Kavanagh.
Brandon thought for a moment. "No. It's quite
simple-watch for the light in my window at the pub.
If it doesn't go on you'll know I'm not back."
" Right. In that case we'll be on the look out along
the road from the Castle. So long, old chap."
At six o'clock that evening Brandon set forth on his
expedition. The way to the Castle lay through the
village, up a steep lane to the right, then along the edge
of a ravine for about a mile. There on the left, at the
bottom of a zigzag drive, were the entrance gates with a
porter's lodge and a placard bearing the inscription
" VerbotenerWeg."
From this point, the terrace of the Castle was clearly
visible, and the General could be seen walking up and
down it with the three Labour members, talking
eagerly. Meanwhile a solitary figure, its hands
clasped behind its back, stood looking out over the
balustrade to the country beyond as if sunk in medita-
tion. Raising his field-glasses to his eyes, Brandon
recognised the saturnine features of Geldbeutel.
" Keeps 'isself to 'isself, does Sagittarius I " he re-
flected. "Yet he's probably directing operations all
the while. Ah, the others have settled down for a
confidential talk I" For at this moment the General
and his three companions entered a stone pavilion at
the end of the terrace and were lost to sight. If only,
Brandon said to himself, he could get to the other side
of that high wall and conceal himself in the bushes that
surrounded their retreat I He resolved to try.
Making his way round to the rusty gate at the back
of the Castle grounds, he began to examine the lock and
found to his surprise that with the application of a
touch of oil and the introduction of a strong steel wire
he had brought with him it could be pushed back
without great difficulty. Then opening the gate he
found himself inside the walls. " This is too easy," he
said to himself, "something's bound to happen."
And so it did. For, having passed safely through the
woodland that bordered on the garden, he was just
about to creep through the bushes at the back of the
pavilion when a loud voice called:
"Halt I "
Brandon stopped as if he had indeed been shot as
Kavanagh had predicted, and turned to see a powerful
Jager on the path only ten feet away pointing a revolver
at his head. Instantly he threw up his arms. The
man, still covering him with the weapon, advanced
towards him :
"What are you doing here ? "he said gruffly.
Remembering his role of German hiker, Brandon
answered:
" I desired an interview with His Excellency."
" What for ? "
"Well, the Herr General is a famous man. And I
had never seen him."
"This is not the way to approach him. Keep your
hands up while I go through your pockets."
Brandon had been careful to leave the oil and steel
wire at the gate and to carry nothing more compromis-
ing than a clasp knife and a pencil on his person. The
Jager, after a careful search, seemed somewhat re-
assured.
" I don't know whether you're a fool or a knave," he
said, "but anyhow, you'll have to be locked up till His
Excellency says what's to be done with you. Come
,,
on.
And grasping Brandon firmly by the arm he marched
him through the back door of the Castle, and along a
stone passage, at the end of which he opened a door
into a small dark room with windows raised high from
the ground.
" In here ! " he said briefly and, signing to Brandon
to enter, he went out, locking the door behind him.
"A nasty hole to have got into," Brandon said to

himself as the man's footsteps died away in the distance.
The lock of this door, without a wire to help him, would
certainly not be so easy to pick. Besides, once outside
it he would certainly be re-arrested. The window
offered no hope of escape. Placing a chair beneath it,
he found that he could only just reach it with his hands,
and the stone framework being rounded offered no
edge that could be grasped with the fingers.
Well, there was nothing to be done but wait and hope
that his native wit would help him to explain matters to
ON THE TRACK OF THE CONSPIRACY r97
the formidable Herr General. If necessary he could
feign to be a harmless lunatic anxious to obtain a
glimpse of a celebrity. Meanwhile mercifully he had
his cigarette-case with him.
Hours seemed to pass. A sonorous gong sounded the
dinner-hour of the Castle.
Suddenly a key grated in the lock, the door opened,
and the Jager entered, carrying a plate of food and a
glass of water in his hands.
" The Herr General is engaged to-night. He can't
see you till to-morrow. You'll have to spend the night
here. Here's some supper. We don't want you to
starve to death." And turning on his heel he left the
room again.
"Looks exactly like a dog's dinner! " Brandon
thought as he contemplated the large chunks of meat,
bread, and potatoes jumbled together on the plate.
However, he was hungry and managed to consume the
far from tempting meal.
All at once the sound of music struck on his ears-in
the distance someone was playing Dvofak's "Humor-
esque" on the piano, just as he remembered hearing
Mrs. Murray Bateman play it after a dinner-party in
London. Was she playing it to-night ? Moving to the
door he listened at the keyhole, thinking the sound
would be clearer there, but on the contrary it seemed
farther away. Where was it coming from ? At the
other end of the room he could hear it plainly-ah t
he had got it ! It was coming down the chimney I
Close up to the old-fashioned fireplace it was quite
distinct ; stooping he pushed his head inside it above
the fireplace grate. By Jove! how wide it was,
though I Much wider than one would have guessed
from the outside, which had been modernised. It was
evidently one of those queer old chimneys up which
little sweeps used to be sent in the old days as in
Water Babies. Would it be possible to climb it and
escape that way? It was worth trying-but not yet,
the Castle was still awake ; he would wait till every-
thing had settled down for the night and the great
clock which sounded the hours had struck that of
midnight.
Soon the music ceased. People could be heard
hurrying about in the passage outside, doors banging,
everything being shut up for the night evidently. The
key grated again in the lock and the Jager entered,
carrying a grey military blanket.
"You can wrap yourself in this for the night, we
don't want you to die of cold either. The nights are
chilly. Bis Morgen."
And he went out, taking the empty plate with him.
All was now silent, and before long the hour of
midnight sounded. Brandon prepared for his adven-
ture. First his coat and trousers must be removed,
for should he fail to make his escape and be obliged to
return whence he came no traces of soot must be found
upon his clothing. To have attempted to escape by
way of the chimney would make his situation worse.
Clothed now only in his undergarments, he crept inside
the chimney and looked up. Far, far above, the stars
were shining. Feeling round the chimney breast his
fingers grasped a projecting bit of stone-ah ! there
were footholds in the masonry. His foot found a
support, slowly he pulled himself upwards. The climb
seemed interminable until he reached the top, breath-
less, with grazed hands and feet and perspiring freely.
At last, at last he was out on the roof and in the open
air. Stepping carefully between the chimney stacks
he peered over the edge of the ramparts-no escape
that way, the Castle walls went sheer down to the
valley below. Well, he would try the front, looking
over the garden. Equally hopeless ! An inspection of
the two remaining sides revealed the same situation-
nowhere a friendly drain-pipe, a creeper, a gargoyle, or
anything by which even a cat could reach the ground.
Escape, he now realised, was impossible. He would
have to return to his prison and face the interview with
the General in the morning.
There was, however, no hurry, and seating himself on
a corner of the wall he looked out over the surrounding
country. Everything was wrapped in darkness, only
in the distance a few lights in the village still twinkled.
He looked up at the stars shining peacefully. Did they
really control the destinies of human life as astrologers
made out in their Zodiacal charts ? Well, he was
certainly under a sign of the Zodiac to-night-in the
Castle that sheltered Sagittarius himself. Sagittarius,
the Archer, one of the Trigon of Fire. • . .
Suddenly a hollow sound from one of the chimney-
stacks near roused him from his meditations. Spring-
ing up, he went towards it and leant over the top.
Voices down below I Voices that could be heard
quite plainly ; evidently the chimney acted as a sort
of megaphone, increasing the volume of sound. He
remembered in a flash reading somewhere that Louis
XV, wandering on the roof at Versailles, had overheard
the conversation of two of his disgruntled courtiers
sitting over the fire and rewarded them the next day
with a lettre de cachet. • . . Surely that was the
General's voice. Looking down, Brandon saw a glow
of light from the room below. Creeping inside the
chimney he managed to lower himself some way until
the sounds became still more distinct, whilst at the
same time the odour of cigar smoke floated to his
nostrils.
" Good," said the voice of von Rauschenberg, " all
will be done as you direct. These Englishmen are
ready to agree to anything that will bring them back
to power."
" To what they will imagine to be power," answered
another voice, which was clearly that of Geldbeutel.
"Just so. And the money will be provided? "
" Yes. Through Franklin. The first instalment will
be paid to them immediately on their return. The
rest when they have carried out their compact. Now I
will retire and leave you to complete the negotiations."
Footsteps sounded over the parquet-a door opened
-" Schlafen Sie wohl" could be heard. For some
moments there was silence. Then the door opened
again and a hum of voices began, this time speaking
English. There followed the clinking of glasses, the
sound of a soda-water siphon fizzing into tumblers-
denser clouds of cigar smoke wafted up the chimney.
"Then the matter is settled," von Rauschenberg
could be heard saying in excellent English. "On
these conditions the money will be provided. You
think you have a good chance of winning the election?"
"Yes," answered a British voice, which Brandon
recognised as Jos. Bagnall's. "We are pretty sure of
our agents at Tory H.Q. They won't allow the other
side to put up much of a fight."
"They haven't got a man with brains amongst
them," said another voice that sounded like Pudsey's,
"except Philip Archbold, and they hate him as a
Diehard. They hate the Diehards far more than they
do us."
" The Tories always hate anyone who does any-

thing," said Bagnall with a laugh, "wakes 'em out of
their confounded laziness-they're bone lazy, the lot
of 'em."
" And what about the House of Lords," said the
General ; " do you think the Conservatives will go as
far as that ? "
"I think I can answer for them in that matter,"
said a woman's voice, which could be no other than
Mrs. Murray Bateman's. " My husband, you know,
has great influence in the Party."
" So I That is well. As long as the Lords remain
the destruction of the monarchy becomes impossible.
Even then you will have the resistance of the people."
"Yes, that's going to be the most difficult job of
all "-this time it seemed to be Renton speaking-
" worse than the break-up of the Empire. The people
are dead set on the King. They won't mind doing
away with the Lords, they won't mind our signing an
alliance with Russia, they'll stick anything as long as
they've plenty of cinemas, greyhound racing, and
football going, but the Royal Family's another thing."
" Well, the Free Transport Bill will help to keep
them quiet. Now for your signatures."
A long silence followed. Something was being
signed. Then heavy footsteps crossed the parquet-
the sound of rattling keys followed, the bang of a
metal door.
"Now, what on earth's going on," Brandon said to
himself. " Somebody's signed something, and they've
shoved it into a safe. I'd like to have a look at that
bit of paper. But how ? " His thoughts stopped ;
somebody was speaking.
" I keep the duplicate then," said Bagnall.
"Right. Now to bed."
Good nights were exchanged. The party were
breaking up. Soon a door could be heard shutting and
the extinguishing of the glow at the bottom of the
chimney indicated that the lights had been turned off.
The party had gone to bed.
"So that's their little game," said Brandon to
himself, pacing the roof. He had heard all he wanted,
yet he could do nothing with it unless he could find
some means of escape from the Castle. Desperately
he looked down again over the battlements, only to
realise once more that flight that way was quite
impossible. There was nothing for it but to go back
to his room and face the ordeal of the morrow. Slowly
he descended the chimney, painfully clinging to the
stonework, painfully groping for a foothold, and found
himself once more in his prison.
What was to be done now ? If he did not succeed
in convincing the General of his innocence he might
conceivably be shot or, more probably, be sent under
armed escort to prison. Jn that case, how was he to
let Kavanagh know what had happened?
Looking round the room, he spotted an old news-
paper in a corner. A hunt through his pockets led to
the stump of a pencil, for the Jager in searching him
for arms had removed none of his few belongings.
Tearing off a piece of the paper, he proceeded to write
in a minute hand, and in the code prearranged with
Kavanagh, a brief summary of the conversation he
had overheard, ending with the information that the
pact signed with von Rauschenberg would be found
in Bagnall's pocket. It was unlikely, he calculated,
that having once been searched the process would be
repeated, and he could therefore keep this scrap of
paper on his person in the hope that either Kavanagh

or Rigby would be on the look out near the Castle
and some means might be found of getting it to
them.
Then wrapping himself in the grey blanket provided
by the Jager, he lay down in a corner of the room and
slept a deep sleep until morning.
Soon after the breakfast of coffee and dry bread

brought him by the Jager, Brandon was summoned
to appear before the General. The Jager led the way,
passing along the stone passage into a great hall,
decorated with stags' heads and historic armour. Then
opening the door into the General's study he signed
to Brandon to enter and take up his stand beside the
writing-table at which the General was seated, con-
versing in a low voice with a young man, apparently a
secretary, who was handing him some small slips of
paper.
" And taken quite without their knowledge ? "
Brandon could hear the General say.
"Entirely without their knowledge," the young man
answered.
"Good." Putting the slips of paper down on the
writing-table, the General, taking no notice of Brandon,
rose, and moving towards the door with the secretary
said a few words in a whisper. Brandon standing
close to the table glanced down quickly and saw that
what had appeared to be bits of paper were evidently
snapshot photographs laid face downwards. During
the instant that the General's back was turned, he
contrived with a lightning movement to put out his
hand and slip one of them into his trouser pocket.
The next moment the General had wheeled round
and, after glancing at him fiercely beneath bushy
eyebrows, seated himself on a heavy oak chair at
the table. With a military gesture he now signed
to Brandon to stand in front of him.
" What is your name ? " he said in a voice like a
pistol-shot.
" Johann Straube."
" Where do you live ? "
" In Berlin."
" And what were you doing in my grounds last
night ? "
" I wanted to see you, Herr General."
"Why did you want to see me? "
" Because you are a famous general. I wanted to
see what you were like," Brandon answered with a
weak-minded expression.
" Nonsense," said the General sharply, " one does
not break into the property of a famous person merely
to see what he's like. You forced the lock of the gate,
no doubt?"
"Yes."
" That is not the act of one who is merely curious,
but of a criminal. You came to assassinate me ? "
" How could I assassinate you when I had no
weapons ? The Jager will tell you I was unarmed."
"That is true. Then you came to spy. Come, tell
me the truth, it will be better for you. Who and what
are you? "
"Herr General," stammered Brandon with well-
simulated confusion, " I will confess all and trust to
your mercy. I am a Communist."
" Ach, so ? You are a Communist. That is why
you are my enemy? "
"We Communists look upon all the late Kaiser's
generals as our enemies-as the enemies of the working-

classes."
Turning to the Jager, who had taken up his stand by
the door, the General ordered him to leave the room.
Then addressing Brandon again, he said :
" So that is why you want to assassinate me ? "
" I do not want to assassinate you, Herr General.
But I have to obey orders. I belong, you see, to a
secret Communist group which desires your death.
I did not vote for it. But it was decided that someone
must be sent to reconnoitre, to see how well you were
guarded, and the lot fell on me. I could not disobey
on pain of-- " and Brandon drew his hand with a
sharp gesture across his throat.
The General looked at him fixedly.
"You're a brave fellow," he said at last, "but
you're a fool. Why should you think I am an enemy
of the working-classes ? "
Brandon now produced his trump card.
"Because," he said, looking the General in the eye,
"because belonging to the class you do, you are
naturally an enemy of the Bolsheviks. The Bol-
sheviks are our friends. We want the Fatherland to
become like Russia-a free land for the workers."
" But Dummkopj (blockhead) I " cried von Rauschen-
berg, " how do you know that the Bolsheviks are not
my friends also? One does not always think like
one's class. I too wish to see the Fatherland free and
happy, but how could that be under the bourgeois
Social-Democrats and the fetters of the Allied Govern-
ments? Now we have a National Government, but
until the Treaty of Versailles has been tom to shreds
we can never be free. Only Russia can help us to
recover our freedom, that is why I, like you, regard the
Soviet rulers as our allies."
Brandon gazed at the General with well-feigned
surprise.
"If my comr.:i,descould know this," he said naively,
" they would no longer desire your death."
"Well, tell them I am not the enemy of the Soviet
Government. For the present I cannot declare myself,
but I have spoken to you confidentially because,
although you are a fool, you are a brave man and I
think you can be trusted. If I let you go free now will
you promise me not to work for my enemies in future ? "
"More than that, Your Excellency, I will do every-
thing to prevent any attempts being made on your life.
I will use all my influence with the comrades, and I am
sure they will see they have been mistaken."
" Good. You can go back to your home."
Ringing a bell on the table that brought the Jager
into the room, the General said peremptorily :
" Take this fellow down to the station and see him
into the train for Berlin."
And with a gesture of dismissal he turned back to
his writing-table.
"So you have been set free? " the Jager said, as
with a second Jager on the other side of Brandon, they
walked down the drive to the Castle gate.
" Yes, His Excellency understands I did not wish
to harm him."
"Well, you have got off very lightly. The last man
who got into the Castle grounds was shot dead by the
forester. You are lucky to be allowed to go back to
Berlin. The next train starts in an hour," he added.
B~andon made no reply. He was thinking rapidly
how he could get his message to Kavanagh before
being put into the train for Munich en route for the
German capital. Whilst he pondered, looking ahead

of him he perceived, just as he had hoped, the figure of
Rigby at a turning of the road.
Putting his hand in his pocket he felt for the scrap
of paper which he had folded carefully into a diminu-
tive square and now contrived to get inside his hand-
kerchief. Then as they passed Rigby he drew the
handkerchief from his pocket, blew his nose with it
loudly, and in replacing it dropped the square of paper
to the ground, at the same time saying loudly : " At
what hour shall I arrive in Berlin ? "
"At about eight o'clock this evening," answered one
of the Jagers, evidently noticing nothing. Brandon
heaved a sigh of relief.
"Would you allow me to fetch my bag from the
inn? " he said as they made their way through the
village.
"Well, yes, there could be no harm in that."
Before starting on his adventure, Brandon had
taken the precaution of leaving any of his belongings
that could be identified in charge of Rigby, and there
was nothing in his bag at the inn except the neces-
saries a German hiker would carry with him, also a
spare set of false teeth, and, concealed in the lining of
the bag, a spare glass eye. Having secured this and
paid his bill at the inn, Brandon allowed himself to be
conducted to the station.
A quarter of an hour later he was in a third-class
carriage steaming northward to Berlin.
Whilst Brandon was engaged on his adventures in

the Castle, Kavanagh and Rigby waited breathlessly
for his return. When midnight came and still no
light appeared in his window at the inn they began to
fear the worst. If he were caught and taken away
from Stolzenbach, he would have to pass through the
village. They decided therefore to take it in turns to
watch the road to the Castle, and so it happened that
Rigby was on guard when Brandon, walking between
the two Jagers, came in sight. Without giving the
faintest sign of recognition Rigby kept his ears and
eyes open, and caught the words : " At what hour do
I arrive in Berlin ? " and quickly spotted the square
of paper that fell from Brandon's hand. As soon as
the trio had disappeared from sight, the batman
retrieved the paper and carried it to Kavanagh.
" Thank heaven," said Kavanagh ; " at any rate
he's alive. But where can they be taking him in
Berlin ? Well, anyhow, I'd better decode this mes-
sage."
The story, translated from German code into plain
English, was certainly astounding. But until Bran-
don succeeded in escaping from his captors-and
Kavanagh had no doubt that his fertile brain would
find some way of eluding them-no use could be made
of it, unless-unless--
" If only we could get hold of the document Bagnall
has in his pocket I " he said to Rigby. This had
evidently been the idea in Brandon's mind when adding
the last sentence to his message.
" Looks to me," was Rigby's comment, " as if those
three fellows will be lucky to get away with whole
skins. Some of the Nazi chaps have got wind that
something's been going on at the Castle and suspect
treason. I shouldn't be surprised if there was a hold-
up."
"Then let's be there to see! " said Kavanagh. "I
wonder when they're leaving."
"To-night, the General's manservant was saying."

" If there's a hold-up it will be on their way to the
station. I think I'll take a stroll this evening in that
direction."
The train to Frankfurt, by which travellers to Eng-
land would most likely travel, left at ten o'clock, so
at 9.30 Kavanagh set forth in the direction of the
Castle. The lonely road along the ravine was the
most likely spot for waylaying travellers. But all was
quiet; no sign of lurking Nazis was apparent. Ah,
that must be the General's car descending the zigzag
drive from the Castle I Kavanagh watched the glow-
ing head-lights appearing and disappearing as it
rounded the comers, and turning out of the gates it
came rushing full speed along the road towards him.
He stepped aside to let it pass, when suddenly there
was a rending crack, the lights swerved wildly sideways
and the car, after crashing into a tree with a terrific
impact, turned over on its side. The shattering of
glass and rending of the framework mingled with an
agonised cry from those inside it ; then for a moment
there was silence. There was also darkness, for the
lamps of the car had gone out, and it was only by the
light of his pocket torch that Kavanagh, hurrying to
the spot, was able to view the wreckage. The sight
that met his eyes was frightful ; the chauffeur alone
had been thrown clear and was lying face downwards
on the road, but the top of the car had been ripped off
and the three Labour members could be seen huddled
together amidst the splintered woodwork. The
cause of the accident was evident, for several strands
of thick steel wire which had evidently been stretched
across the road lay broken in the dust beside the
shattered bonn€t. So the Nazis had brought off their
r4
coup and Kavanagh was here to profit by it! The
victims were all clearly unconscious, and only one,
Renton, was now groaning loudly.
Seizing Bagnall under the shoulders Kavanagh
dragged him from the car and laid him by the side of
the road. Then kneeling beside him he opened his coat
and passed his hand swiftly over the man's body,
prepared, if anyone arrived on the scene, to appear
to be rendering first-aid. It would be easy, he reflected,
to say that he was feeling for the beating of the heart.
Ah, there it was, a stiff patch inside the waistcoat that
could only be caused by a folded paper ! In an instant
Kavanagh had whipped out his penknife, cut the
stitches of the waistcoat lining, and extracted the
document that had been sewn inside it. Yes, this was
it-von Rauschenberg's signature at the foot was
clearly visible. Thrusting the paper into his pocket,
Kavanagh sprang to his feet, and switching off his
torch ran hell for leather back to the outskirts of the
village. Then by a detour he contrived to arrive· at
the inn from the direction opposite to that of the
Castle.
Meanwhile where was Brandon? The thought gave
Kavanagh cause for far from pleasant speculation.
As soon as the train had left Stolzenbach Brandon

drew from his pocket the snapshot he had abstracted
from the General's table. Oho ! This might come
in very useful I It was a picture of a group comprising
von Rauschenberg seated with his English guests on
the terrace of the Castle. Brandon· understood now
what the secretary had meant by the words " without
their knowledge." This had evidently been taken
with a camera concealed from view, since the Labour
ON THE TRACK OF THE CONSPIRACY 2n
members would hardly desire to be photographed in

so compromising a situation. But the General was
clever enough to make sure of holding sufficiently
incriminating evidence in the event of their defection.
Had Brandon himself been photographed in the
same manner? For all von Rauschenberg's apparent
geniality at the close of their interview, Brandon had
noticed that the Jager exchanged a few confidential
words with the guard before the train started. Doubt-
less that official was being instructed to see that the
released Communist reached his destination safely, and
most probably someone would be sent to meet the
train in Berlin and make sure that he returned to the
address he had given. Then the fat would be in the
fire, for the address was that of a cheap lodging-house
once lived in bythe real Johann Straube where Brandon
would not be known. At each station on the branch
line from Stolzenbach to Munich he observed that the
guard glanced in at his compartment as he passed
along the train ; clearly he was being kept under
supervision.
What was to be done ? At all costs he must con-
trive to leave the train before it arrived in Berlirt. But
how could this be managed ? Brandon began to
think out a plan.
The only other occupant of the carriage was an
Italian who, after his midday meal, had settled down
in a corner, placed his large felt hat in the rack above
his head, and was evidently preparing for a siesta.
Before long his eyes closed, his mouth opened, and a
deep even breathing announced that he was well away
in dreamland.
Brandon's mind was now made up. Shortly before
reaching Munich he made his way quietly to the
neighbouring lavatory with the valise containing his
few belongings. Taking out of this a pair of scissors
he quickly removed his fair moustache, leaving his
upper lip covered with dark bristles to which the dye
had not penetrated. After changing his grey glass-eye
for the brown one that matched his real eye, he replaced
his plate of long teeth by one he wore in ordinary life,
and at the same time removed his face-pads so as to
resume his normal appearance. Then just as the train
entered the outskirts of Munich he slipped back into
his compartment, noiselessly pinched the felt hat
from the rack over the head of the still slumbering
Italian, jammed it over his own forehead, walked
swiftly through several carriages to the front of the
train, stepped out the instant it drew up at the plat-
form and was past the guard and the ticket collector
and out in the street before an alarm could be raised.
Then after making his way on foot to the Oberwiesen-
feld Airport he boarded the first aeroplane which
happened to be bound for Frankfurt.
But here, owing to the passport system, a hitch
occurred. To get out of Germany with the passport
of Johann Straube, the only one he had with him, would
be impossible, since he no longer resembled the portrait
of that mythical personage pasted on to it, and to
change back to the disguise of Straube would be a risk
in view of the possibility that his escape from the train
might have aroused the suspicions of the authorities
and set sleuths on his track. There was nothing for it
then but to wire to Rigby to join him at Frankfurt with
his luggage, which contained his other passports,
including the one representing him as himself, and
to wait patiently until the faithful manservant
arrived.
He had soon reason to congratulate himself on the

precautions he had taken, for the next evening when
seated in a cafe he happened to pick up a paper where
the words in large lettering" Have you seen this man?"
appeared over two pictures reproducing the familiar
features of Johann Straube both full-face and profile.
Underneath them a short paragraph explained that a
mysterious person giving this as his name, believed to
be a Communist, had been caught trespassing in the
grounds of General von Rauschenberg at Brandesheim,
and was suspected of intending to make an attempt on
his life; that he had been sent back under supervision
to Berlin, where he stated that he lived, but had
disappeared from the train somewhere between
Stolzenbach and Munich. A description of his
appearance followed-fair moustache, full cheeks, one
eye brown, one grey, with a slight cast in the grey one,
etc.-and a reward was offered for his capture.
It was lucky, Brandon reflected, that he had not
attempted to cross the frontier ; no doubt the passport
officials would be on the look-out for the missing
Straube.
" A dangerous fellow that ! " a man at a neighbour-
ing table observed to Brandon, seeing him reading the
paragraph. The news had evidently created some
sensation in Frankfurt, for the General was a public
character, and an attempt on his life provided an
incident of first-class importance.
"Yes, he looks a thorough ruffian," Brandon
agreed.
"The true criminal type," the man went on. " I
happen to have made a particular study of the human
skull, and I can recognise the head of a murderer at a
glance. Observe," and he pointed to the profile
picture, " the formation of the back of that head, how
it bulges outward I "
Brandon nodded. Yes, it was certainly very
different from the typical German head, going sheer up
at the back, which this man evidently regarded as
the model of perfection.
" That protuberance," he continued, "is the seat
of criminal instincts. A man with a head like that
will commit any act of violence. Look at the normal
skull now, yours and mine," and he turned with a
smile to contemplate Brandon.
Then suddenly the smile faded out and a look of
surprise overspread his features.
" No, but this is strange," he said, "your head is
not at all unlike the one in the picture ; your ears
also," he went on, rapidly glancing at the paper and
then again at Brandon ; " there is really an extra-
ordinary resemblance."
"I hope you do not imagine that I am Johann
Straube," Brandon said indignantly, expecting to be
met with a shocked disclaimer.
But the man only answered : " I do not say so. I
only say there is a remarkable resemblance."
"Well, look here," Brandon said, turning round and
facing him boldly, "have I got one brown eye and
one grey one with a cast in it ? "
"No, that is true," the man answered, evidently
reassured. " Your eyes are both the same colour.
And they are straight. That is conclusive." And
with a grumpy Guten Abend he got up and walked out
into the street.
On receiving Brandon's telegram Kavanagh decided

to go himself to Frankfurt with his friend's luggage,
but so as to avoid taking the stolen document about

in Germany it was arranged that Rigby should go
home with it to England and deposit it in a place of
safety.
Kavanagh duly arrived with the luggage and
Brandon's passport, so that it would now be a simple
matter for him to leave Germany. His joy at hearing
of Kavanagh's coup knew no bounds. Armed with
this documentary evidence of the intrigue between
Bagnall and his companions on one side and the Pan-
German General on the other, they should have no
difficulty in convincing the heads of the Secret Service
and even of the most placid Conservative politicians
of the reality of the plot and then, through the Press,
of rousing the country to the dangers of the situation.
It would be a sensation compared to which the famous
Zinoviev letter would pale into insignificance.
"All that remains," said Brandon, "is to follow up
some of the threads at home and find out who is at the
back of Bagnall and Co. I see their accident is
reported in the Continental Post as having taken place
on their way home from a Socialist congress in
Geneva. And they're described as not seriously
injured."
"That's so ?-hullo, a telegram!" Kavanagh broke
off suddenly as a waiter came towards him with a
yellow envelope on a tray.
" Who on earth can it be from ? " said Brandon.
" No one knows our address here."
" Only one person. I took the precaution of letting
Rosamund know our whereabouts each time we moved,
in case of emergencies. As I told you, I wasn't quite
happy about her staying on at Bogazzo. By Jove, I
was right ! "
Kavanagh had torn open the envelope and thrust
the message before his friend :
"S.0.S. ROSAMUND."
Brandon gave a low whistle.

" Things must be pretty serious for her to wire that.
Rosamund's not a girl to panic. We'll be off by the
first train, Terence."
CHAPTER XI
THE CHEKA
WHILST Brandon and Kavanagh were pursuing the

quest of the Hidden Chiefs in Germany, events had been
moving forward in Bogazzo.
Brandon had often wondered what happened after
his escape through the window of Dr. Brinkdorff's
bedroom. The story may be briefly told.
After pressing the bell in the sitting-room Oscar
Franklin sat down in an armchair and waited five
minutes before the waiter, who had been roused from
slumber, replied to the summons. Peremptorily
ordering him to bring a glass of Schnapps at once
Franklin waited another five minutes before the
required restorative arrived. Taking up the glass he
then walked to the bedroom door and tapped gently.
There was no reply. Franklin knocked again, this
time more loudly, and still meeting with complete
silence he at last opened the door quietly and peeped
in. The room was in darkness. Lighting a match,
he saw to his surprise that Brinkdorff was on the bed
asleep, with his face turned to the wall. Franklin
listened for a moment to his even breathing and then
decided that the doctor, having evidently succumbed
to natural exhaustion following on the long ceremony
in which he had taken part, the best thing was to leave
him to sleep in peace.
It was therefore not till next morning that anything
unusual was discovered. The doctor's friends, fore-
217
most amongst them Oscar Franklin, on calling at the
inn to enquire after his health, were concerned to find
the doctor looking paler than ever and in a dazed
condition, for which his secretary, "Herr Wolff," who
seemed no less confused in mind, could offer no explana-
tion. Gathered around him in his sitting-room the
leading members of the Order of the Phrenix plied
him with questions about the previous night's happen-
ings, but found to their astonishment that he did not
even realise that he had been present at the ceremony
in the Temple. His mind appeared to have become a
perfect blank.
" I remember nothing," he said finally, "since
dining last night here in this room with Schwartzmann.
Afterwards we felt unaccountably sleepy, and went to
take some rest before starting for the ceremony. But
I have no recollection of attending it or of anything
until I woke this morning in my bed."
" Then there has been treachery ! " Franklin said
triumphantly. "And my suspicions were right.
Both Hensley and I doubted whether the person who
visited the Temple last night was really Fiat Lux, but
he passed all the tests we put to him successfully. Now
that I see your face in daylight, Brinkdorff, I see that
I was right at first, and that someone has been im-
personating you ! "
A cry of horror went round the group. Brinkdorff
himself sat gazing at them helplessly.
" It is evidently true," he said at last. " I was
certainly not last night at the Temple ! "
" Then the message from the Hidden Chief of
Bavaria was a fraud," said Dr. Hensley. "And it is
now too late to stop Semper Paratus; he has already
started."
THE CHEKA 2I9
Worse still, no one knew what address would find

him, for he had left no directions as to where he would
be staying.
" This is terrible," said Franklin, rising and walking
furiously up and down the room. "A spy has evi-
dently been at work amongst us. Who can he be ? "
" I can throw no light on the matter," Dr. Brink-
dorff said gloomily, "unless this provides a clue."
And he held out a large handkerchief stained with
paint and the letter B. in one corner. " I found this
in the pocket of my coat this morning. It is not
mine."
" Ah ! " said Franklin, grasping the handkerchief
eagerly. "The owner of this must be found. Who-
ever impersonated Brinkdorff evidently left his own
handkerchief in the pocket of the coat into which he
changed. No stone must be left unturned in order to
track him down."
"Whoever he is," Countess Zapraksy observed, "he
must be someone familiar with the ritual of our Order.
How otherwise could he have known the signs and
given the right passwords on entering the Temple?
Who in Bogazzo should know all this ? "
" There is one person," Dr. Hensley said quietly.
Everyone looked with a start in his direction.
" Who ? " they asked in chorus.
"Rosamund Dare," answered Dr. Hensley.
" Rosamund Dare I " echoed the Countess. " The
girl who used to be in the Order and left it with young
Peter Markham ? You don't mean she is in Bogazzo ? "
"She was here a few days ago. I saw her on the
road. She was with a young man whom I did not
notice. I only recognised Rosamund Dare herself."
"Then he," Oscar Franklin said firmly, " must have
been her accomplice to whom she betrayed the Order.
And she will incur the penalty," he added significantly.
" The first thing is to find out where she is," said
Dr. Hensley. " That should not be difficult. There
are only four or five inns and hotels in Bogazzo.
Enquiries must be made at each."
The search, as Dr. Hensley had predicted, proved

easy. At the end of a few hours Rosamund and her
mother had been located at the Hotel Monte Rosa.
The same evening Dr. Hensley, accompanied by
Countess Zapraksy, called at the hotel and asked to
see Miss Dare. But the answer was returned that the
signora being ill, the signorina was occupied in looking
after her and could see no one. The two callers
retired baffled.
Rosamund was careful after this to remain indoors
as much as possible. She had not been given the
names of both visitors, but since one had been an-
nounced as Countess Zapraksy she quickly scented
emissaries from the Order of the Phrenix, and for a
week never ventured into the village street, only
breathing fresh air at intervals on the terrace of the
hotel.
But one evening Lady Dare being in pain and needing
a fresh bottle of liniment for her ankle, Rosamund,
casting caution momentarily to the winds, hurried up
the street to the chemist. She was just returning
safely with the bottle when at the gate of the hotel
garden she found herself face to face with Dr. Hensley.
Avoiding his glance, she attempted to turn in at the
gate ; but Dr. Hensley barred her way.
"I am sorry, Miss Dare, but I must detain you for a
moment."
THE CHEKA 22I
Rosamund stopped as if paralysed ; all the blood

ebbed away from her face, leaving it as white as the
gardenia to which Kavanagh had compared her.
"I must ask you," the doctor went on in the authori-
tative voice she knew so well, " whether you know to
whom this belongs ? " And he held out a large
paint-stained handkerchief.
Rosamund gave a little gasp of relief. So this was
all he wanted to know ! The handkerchief of course
was Jimmy Brandon's-no one else she knew used a
fine linen handkerchief as a painting-rag-she had
often laughed at him for this strange habit. The
recollection following on the moment of fear she had
just passed through, brought with it such a sudden
reaction as almost to make her laugh now. But she
had sufficient presence of mind to answer hastily :
" I don't know anything about it. Is a lost pocket
handkerchief of so much importance ? "
" It is of considerable importance in this case.
This handkerchief," Dr. Hensley went on, looking at
her keenly as he spoke, " was found in the coat pocket
of Doctor Brinkdorff."
"Of Doctor Brinkdorff? " Rosamund repeated,
momentarily puzzled. Ttien suddenly the whole
truth dawned on her. Jimmy's escape through Brink-
dorff's window had been graphically described to her by
Terence before he left Bogazzo; evidently Jimmy had
slipped his own pocket handkerchief into the coat of
Brinkdorff's he had put on in order to attend the
ceremony in the Temple, and in his haste to change
Brinkdorff's clothes for his own he had forgotten to
remove it. It was unlike Jimmy to commit such a
blunder, but even the most expert sleuth is liable to
make a slip under absolutely unforeseen circumstances.
Dr. Hensley was quick to detect the look of com-
prehension that passed, though only in a flash, over
Rosamund's face.
"You know all about this-about the impersona-
tion of Brinkdorff ! " he said, keeping his eyes fixed on
her as if to see into her very soul.
"I know nothing," Rosamund said faintly.
All her old terror of this man revived : never before
had she felt his dominating personality so keenly, and
she trembled lest it should force her into some fatal
admission.
"It is no good denying it," Doctor Hensley said
firmly ; " you cannot deceive me. You know all about
this. The man who impersonated Brinkdorff is your
accomplice, to whom you betrayed the secrets of the
Order."
Rosamund felt her knees literally swaying under
her ; was she going to faint ? Then suddenly pulling
herself together she threw up her head and said :
" I repeat that I know nothing, and if I did know I
would not tell you. You have done enough harm in
your time, Doctor Hensley, but you can't hurt me
now. I know all about you, and I'm not afraid of
you. There are powers greater than yours that will
protect me I "
Doctor Hensley stepped back petrified. His cold
calm face was white with anger. No one had ever
dared to speak to the saintly Fellow of St. Stephen's
in this way before.
" Very well," he said freezingly, moving aside to let
Rosamund pass. " But you know the penalty that
awaits the traitor I "
And turning on his heel he walked away in the
direction of the Villa.
THE CHEKA 223
Rosamund's first thought on seeing Doctor Hensley's
figure retreating in the distance was one of over-
powering relief. He had threatened and she had
defied him ; for the moment the danger had passed.
But was it over ? Might not there be some truth in
the claims these people made to have occult powers ?
Apart from this, who knew what they might attempt ?
This was not London with a friendly "Bobby" at
each street corner; strange things happened on the
Continent, and she had no friends in Bogazzo. If
only Terence and Jimmy were still here! To them
danger presented no terrors, but only the spice of
life. Suddenly she came to a decision. Terence had
wired her his address that morning. Walking hastily
up the village street she entered the post-office and
wrote out a telegram: "S.O.S. ROSAMUND."
After that she felt calmer; Once Brandon and
Kavanagh had returned there would be nothing more
to fear i meanwhile, she would not venture outside the
house again. That night she sat out late on the balcony
of her room on the first floor, looking out over the lake,
breathing the flower-scented air that rose from the
garden below. If only peace were possible ! But
the meeting with Doctor Hensley had brought all the
sad and terrible memories of the past crowding back
into her mind. "They are trying to reach me," she
said to herself with a shudder, "directing punitive
currents of thought against me." And moving into
her room she knelt by her bed and prayed as she had
never prayed before. After a while it seemed as if a
great peace were settling on her, and getting into bed
she lay down and closed her eyes.
Gradually she felt herself sinking into sleep. And
as she slept she dreamed-pleasant dreams at first,
then suddenly it seemed as if she could not draw
breath. She was at the bottom of a dark pit, struggling
upwards to the daylight, and each time she reached the
top hands grasped her and pushed her downwards.
Then at last she sank back exhausted to the bottom
and blackness closed around her.
Kavanagh had never known time pass so slowly as

during the flight that he and Brandon made across
Germany. Rosamund's telegram, despatched at 8 p.m.,
had not reached them till the following morning. On
looking up time tables they found that it would take
them at least twenty-four hours to reach Bogazzo
from Frankfurt by rail, so they had decided to charter
an aeroplane. But since there was no landing-place
in the neighbourhood of Bogazzo, they were obliged to
finish the journey by car. It was evening by the time
they reached their destination and, driving straight to
the Hotel Monte Rosa, they enquired for Miss Dare.
" Ah, then the signori have not heard ? " said the
hotel-keeper, raising his hands with a tragic gesture.
"No. What has happened?" Kavanagh asked
breathlessly.
" The signorina has disappeared. If the signori
will go up to the signora's room they will hear the
whole story."
Lady Day received them in silence, only holding out
her hands towards them ; for the moment it seemed as
if she could not trust herself to speak.
"Rosamund has been taken away," she said at last
brokenly. "She vanished from her bed during the
night."
" You mean she has been kidnapped ? " said Bran-
don.
THE CHEKA 225
" There is no other conclusion. Rosamund would
never go away without a word. One of the sheets off
her bed is missing, so it seems that she was let down in
it from the balcony. There were marks on the flower
bed below and the plants were crushed as if several
people had stood there."
" But how is it that she didn't scream for help ? "
asked Brandon.
"Apparently she was unconscious. A wad of
cotton wool that seems to have been soaked with
chloroform was found beneath the window. It must
have been held over her mouth in her sleep. Who can
they be? Who would want to kidnap Rosamund?"
Brandon and Kavanagh looked at each other
blankly. It was difficult to enlighten Lady Dare, for
she knew nothing of her daughter's experiences in
occult societies. Rosamund had never dared to tell
her, knowing that they would only shock and pain her
needlessly.
" Leave it to us, Lady Dare," Brandon said sooth-
ingly. "We'll try and get to the bottom of the whole
affair. I suppose the police have been informed, by
the way? "
" Oh yes, but they seemed unable to do anything.
Thank God you've come," she added fervently.
" I think our best plan is to go at once to the Villa
Pax Mundi," Brandon said as the two men made their
way out of the Hotel Monte Rosa. " The Countess
must know if any of her lot are concerned in this, and
we may be able to get some information out of her."
"Yes," said Kavanagh, "Rosamund always main-
tained that she was not really' in the plot,' so it seems
to me that if we could open her eyes to the whole thing
she might be willing to say what she knows."
rs
"That's quite possible. But we shall have to go
very carefully to work. It never would do to rush
her."
"No. But the trouble is, there's no time to lose.
Anything may be happening. At any rate, Alessandro
is sure to play up. He may be able to help us a good
deal."
The Italian received them with his usual gleaming
smile on opening the door of the Villa, and the Countess
seemed overjoyed to welcome them back to Bogazzo.
She was alone now, she explained, as all her visitors
had left; the last, Doctor Hensley, had returned only
that morning to England.
But Brandon cut short the flow of her conversation
by saying firmly:
"We've come to see you about a very urgent
matter, Countess. An English girl, Rosamund Dare,
has been kidnapped from the Hotel Monte Rosa."
" Kidnapped? " the Countess repeated blankly,
turning pale around the rouge on her cheeks and lips.
"Yes, kidnapped-last night from her bed. We
think you may be able to throw some light on the
matter."
"I ? How should I know anything about it ?" the
Countess said indignantly.
"I think you know Rosamund Dare," Brandon
said quietly, looking the Countess in the eye.
" Certainly I know who you mean. I knew her
once, that is to say."
" When she belonged to the Order of the Phcenix ? "
The Countess gave a start. " What do you know
about that ? "
" I know a good deal about it. I know also what
a risk Rosamund ran in leaving it."
THE CHEKA 227
" Ah, then it was perhaps to you that she betrayed

it ? And in that case it was you who impersonated
Doctor Brinkdorff ? Another time," the Countess went
on sarcastically, "when you wear someone else's clothes
be careful not to leave your handkerchief in the
pocket I" And opening a drawer she drew out the
paint-stained square of linen and handed it to
Brandon.
Brandon looked at it, cold with horror. Had he
really committed this ghastly blunder, thereby in-
criminating Rosamund ? The idea was so terrible
that for a moment his presence of mind deserted him,
but quickly recovering it he said :
" Never mind about Brinkdorff now ; the point is
that Rosamund has been kidnapped. Whatever she
has done you cannot be a party to that ! "
" Certainly I am not a party to it. All violence is
hateful to me. If what you say is true, I will certainly
give you all the help I can."
" Then tell us the names of the people likely to be
concerned in this."
And as the Countess hesitated Kavanagh interposed
vehemently :
" Don't you understand, Countess, that this is a
matter of life and death ? To put it bluntly, we are
afraid of Rosamund Dare being murdered by Bol-
sheviks."
" By Bolsheviks ? " cried the Countess, " but what
should I know about Bolsheviks ? You know that
Bolshevism has always been abhorrent to me."
" I believe it has," said Brandon, and he spoke the
truth, for there could be little doubt now the woman
was sincere. No one could simulate the panic-
stricken expression of her face. But it was necessary
to open her eyes completely in order to enlist her help.
So curbing Kavanagh's impatience with a glance,
Brandon went on speaking rapidly :
" It is time you should hear the truth. Do you
really not know the true character of the people with
whom you have been associated? Do you not know
that your Villa is being used as a clearing-house by
Bolshevik couriers ? That Schwartzmann, the emis-
sary of Moscow, was here recently ? That Grunberg,
one of the principal agents of the Soviet Government,
was present at the meeting in your Temple ? "
" This is impossible I " Countess Zapraksy answered
with a cry of horror. " I can't believe all this."
"Well, if you don't believe me, ask Alessandro. He
will tell you everything."
"Call Alessandro then to come here immediately."
The man, responding quickly to the summons, and
having been told briefly about the kidnapping of
Rosamund, needed no urging to give his evidence.
The Countess listened in dismay. It was perfectly
clear now that she had been the tool of more cunning
brains. Wrapped in her occult imaginings she had
never dreamt that Bolshevism, which was really
abhorrent to her, played any part in the background.
" It is terrible," she said at last, " to think that my
house, the Villa Pax Mundi, that I desired to be a
centre of peace and enlightenment for the world, should
have been used for such a purpose. It had been
represented to me that the correspondence which was
left here would be called for by messengers of the Great
White Lodge, some of them emissaries from the Chiefs
of a high spiritual Order. That they were emissaries of
Moscow never entered my thoughts. Why did you
never tell me all this, Alessandro ? "
THE CHEKA 229
" I feared the Countess would not believe me. And

until the signori inglesi came I had no proof."
"But now you do know, Countess," urged Kavanagh,
frantic to get back to the real business of the evening,
" will you help us to find Rosamund Dare ? And will
you lend us Alessandro ? "
" Of course. But where should the search begin ? "
"At the clinic Nirvana," said Alessandro, nodding
his head knowingly.
" At Nirvana ! " cried the Countess. " What do
you mean, Alessandro ? "
" The Contessa does not know what they say in the
village!"
" No. What do they say ? "
"They say," the Italian went on, no longer afraid
to speak out on the subject and pouring forth a torrent
of words, "they say that strange and terrible things
take place at the clinic, that cries have been heard
there-gridi, gridi "-and he rolled the r's on his
tongue-" at dead of night-cries as of souls in pain.
Giuseppe, who was once passing through the forest at
two in the morning, heard this with his own ears.
And others have heard it too. They say also that
patients arrive only in cars, never by train, usually at
night, and that no one knows what becomes of them.
They say the doctor himself is a devil in human form,
and that la Sorella Celestina has the evil eye; they
say--"
" But why did no one in the village say this to me ? "
broke in the Countess, momentarily stemming the
torrent.
" They were all afraid ! " said Alessandro, starting
off again. " They feared the vengeance of these
accursed ones. Old Teresa Gelotti, who., as the Con~
tessa knows, is well educated and reads the newspapers,
once said something fearful about the clinic, and
immediately her best goat died mysteriously as if a
spell had been cast on it. After that no one dared to
speak of 'Nirvana' except in a whisper-they feared
black magic."
"But you need not fear black magic here," inter-
posed Brandon ; "speak out, Alessandro, tell us what
old Teresa said ? "
"She said," and Alessandro's voice sank to an awe-
struck whisper, "that she believed Nirvana was a
Cheka !-a Ghepeu I "
" Good Lord ! " shouted both the Englishmen,
starting to their feet. And seeing the Countess's
bewildered expression, Brandon added: "The G.P.U.
or Ogpu--0nce known as the Cheka. It has branches,
you know, all over the world. Can' Nirvana 'be one ?
I might have suspected it was something of the kind
when I recognised Krovavaya Katya of the G.P.U. in
Sreur Celestine."
"What ? " cried the Countess in amazement, for
knowing Russian, she understood the meaning of this
ghastly title. "Sreur Celestine-Bloody Catherine!
Nirvana a Cheka I And I who believed it was a place
of peace and healing I This is too horrible I Too
horrible I "
There was now no holding Kavanagh. Cutting
short the Countess's lamentations, he grasped first
Brandon, then Alessandro, with a grip of iron and
almost dragged them to the door, shouting like a man
demented: "Rosamund in a Cheka I For heaven's
sake let's start at once for the clinic I There's not a
moment to be lost I "
"You shall have my car," the Countess said, now
THE CHEKA 231
thoroughly roused. " It will take you there in a

quarter of an hour. And I will give you the key of
' Nirvana.' At this time of the night it will be locked.
But I have one of my own that was left here when I had
the clinic built. Take it." And she handed it to
Brandon.
"Thanks. Then we'll be off."
Hardly waiting to take leave of the Countess, the
three men hurried to the garage and Alessandro seated
himself at the wheel.
" If the signori permit," he said, "we will stop on
our way through the village and pick up two or three
of my comrades to go with us. Who knows what we
may meet with at the Ghepeu I It is as well to be
prepared."
It was very dark when the six men descended from

the car at a short distance from the clinic and made
their way stealthily towards the gate, Brandon and
Kavanagh each with an automatic in his pocket, whilst
the Italians-Alessandro and his Fascist allies-had
armed themselves with stilettos and also, in spite of
the Duce's prohibition, of that most potent weapon of
Fascism-a huge bottle of castor oil.
The house, when they reached it, was wrapped in
darkness, the shutters were all closed, and not a
glimmer of light could be seen between any of them.
" Hush ! " said Brandon, signalling to his com-
panions, who were talking in an undertone, " we
mustn't make a sound. No warning must be given
of our approach."
The words were hardly out of his mouth before a
piercing shriek from within the house rent the silence
of the forest.
"Rosamund!" said Kavanagh in an agonised
whisper. " I'm certain that was her voice ! "
Brandon nodded grimly, but said nothing.
" They are assassinating her, certainly they are
assassinating her," Alessandro said excitedly. " Dio
mio ! "
" Keep quiet, Alessandro, there's no time to lose, we
must get in as quickly as possible."
Moving forward on tiptoe the six men opened the
gate noiselessly and crept up to the door, which, as the
Countess had said, opened with the key they had
brought from the Villa. Here again everything was
dark and silent. On reaching the hall they paused
and listened, but still not a sound was to be heard.
"The silence of death! "whispered Alessandro, and
did nothing thereby to relieve Kavanagh's apprehen-
sions.
"Half a minute," said Brandon softly. "We'll go
to the Temple. Come on ! " And he moved quickly
towards the stairs leading to the underground chamber
into which he had been taken as Doctor Brinkdorff.
As soon as they had reached the lower passage a dim
shaft of light met their eyes. It came from a small
window in the wall at the side of the door opening into
this chamber, being used presumably as a peep-hole
through which the person performing the office of a
" tyler " in masonic lodges could keep a watch on
those who entered. No such precautions had evidently
been held necessary to-night, for as they advanced
towards the window and looked through nothing
obstructed their view of what was going on inside.
The strangest spectacle now met their eyes. On the
dais were seated three masked men clothed in the
robes and insignia of some mystic Order-not that of
THE CHEKA 233
the Phrenix-and facing them on a stool, with her
hands tied behind her back, sat Rosamund Dare,
dressed in a red kimono thrown over her long white
silk nightgown, pale as death, and her eyes wide with
terror-like a white dove, thought Kavanagh, con-
fronted by a cobra.
"My God! I can't stand this! " he whispered,
about to rush forward. But Brandon interposed.
" Shut up, Terence. I must hear what that fellow's
going to say."
For the central of the three masked figures had
stretched out his hand towards the girl's trembling
form and was beginning to speak.
" So," he said in a voice vibrating with anger, "you
refuse to reveal the name of your accomplice who
practised this imposture on the Order, profaning the
precincts of the Temple itself ? "
It was the voice of Oscar Franklin-in the ears of
Brandon and Kavanagh there was no mistaking the
guttural accents of the financier-Capricornus, of the
Zodiac!
Rosamund made no reply.
At this moment there moved forward from the
shadows at the end of the room two figures, hitherto
out of the range of vision of the watchers at the peep-
hole. These two were unmasked and could be in-
stantly recognised as Gustav Mervine and Sreur
Celestine alias Krovavaya Katya, of the Cheka.
"We have questioned the culprit throughout the
whole day, honourable Master," said Mervine, his
small evil eyes gleaming from his fleshy face, "but not
a word could we obtain from her."
"Third degree methods no doubt," whispered
Brandon, and again Kavanagh started forward to enter
the room. But again Brandon clutched him by the
arm saying:
" No, wait. We must see what they mean to do.
There'll be time to stop them."
"We have not resorted to the severest measures,"
said Krovavaya Katya, casting a venomous glance at
Rosamund, with cherished memories of the Lubianka
evidently simmering in her brain ; " if the honourable
Master will permit we will attempt a method that will
soon open her lips."
Kavanagh shuddered; never had he looked on a
more fiendish countenance than that of the woman
whose clutching fingers itched to seize her trembling
victim.
" It is useless," said another of the masked figures
on the dais, and the listeners recognised the voice of
Doctor Hensley. " I know something of the prisoner.
Nothing will make her speak."
" Then," said Franklin, "she must incur the ex-
treme penalty." And assuming the role of judge, he
addressed the prisoner in the following words :
" You must hear the sentence, once Soror Stella
Lucida, now a renegade brought to justice. For
betraying the Order and violating your obligations of
secrecy, you are condemned by command of the Hidden
Chiefs to incur the penalty defined in the solemn oath
you took on your initiation. A punitive current will
now be directed against you ! Frater Laboro per
Obscurum and Soror Nihil nisi Benevolens, place the
delinquent in the chair I "
Like some fierce beast of prey, her eyes gleaming and
her cruel mouth set remorselessly, Krovavaya Katya
advanced towards Rosamund, and grasping her by the
shoulders was about, with the help of Mervine, to
THE CHEKA 235
drag her towards a chair placed on a small platform at
one side of the room, when the girl, opening her lips at
last, uttered another piercing scream and started to
struggle madly.
" Do you see what they're going to do ? " Brandon
whispered excitedly. "That's the chair used for
high-frequency treatment I They're going to electro-
cute her I Now all together, come I "
And at the signal from Brandon, the six men burst
into the room.
There was a moment of palpitating silence. Then
Kavanagh, dashing forward, snatched Rosamund from
her captors.
" You damned devils I " he yelled ; " you filthy
swine ! " he repeated, holding the almost fainting girl
closely in his arms.
There was now no holding the Fascists. With one
accord they flew first at the throats of Gustav Mervine
andKrovavaya Katya as if tochokethelifeoutof them;
then rushing the dais they dragged the masked figures
from their seats, tearing off their masks to disclose the
features of Oscar Franklin, Doctor Hensley, and
Raskoff. Turning from one to another of the five
they shook them like rats, howling imprecations :
" Scellerati ! Canaglia ! Mascalzoni I Bisogna am-
mazarle ! "
Stilettos flashed in the air.
But Brandon interposed :
" Hold hard, Alessandro. I want these birds.
They're more useful alive than dead."
"But they were going to electrocute the signorina I "
Alessandro cried excitedly. " You understand ? " he
repeated in Italian to his companions, "they were
going to place her in the electric chair ? "
" Then they shall be placed there themselves ! " the
men shouted.
" Yes, yes ! " echoed Alessandro. " To the electric
chair! "
"This is going to be murder," Kavanagh whispered
hurriedly to Brandon under cover of the pandemonium
which arose whilst the Italians discussed who should
be the first victim. " Shouldn't we stop them and call
in the police ? "
"Yes, later. But I wouldn't count too much on the
police. Remember, we're in Switzerland, where the
Grand Orient is all powerful and Franklin is a thirty-
third degree mason. Anyhow, let the Fascists give
them the fright of their lives first. They can do that
without turning on the current. Listen, Alessandro,"
he went on in Italian, going up to the manservant, and
grasping him by the shoulder, he whispered a few
words into his ear.
Alessandro nodded comprehension, then with a wink
at Brandon seized the nearest of the five, who happened
to be Doctor Hensley,and frogmarched him towards the
chair, whilst the other members of the rescue-party
formed a cordon round the remaining four to prevent
them intervening. The Fellow of St. Stephen's, who
had not caught Brandon's whispered instructions,
seemed too paralysed with terror to resist. But
hardly had they time to force him into the chair before
he gave a gasping choke and his body fell forward with
his head upon his knees.
" Hullo," said Brandon, momentarily startled, and
dashing to the doubled-up figure in the chair. Grasping
him by the shoulders he raised them upwards, but the
head still drooping forward, he lifted it by the chin, and
as he did so a gasp of horror arose from Franklin,
THE CHEKA 237
Raskoff, Mervine, and Krovavaya Katya.
Doctor Hensley was dead.
There could be no mistake about it. Feeling his
heart Brandon at once realised that it had stopped
beating.
This was an unexpected development. He had
never intended that the current should be turned on,
but simply that the man should be given a taste of the
terror he had inspired in Rosamund. That one mo-
ment, however, had done it, and he had literally died
of fright.
Whilst his four accomplices, appalled at his fate,
cringed for mercy to the rescue-party, Brandon did
some rapid thinking.
The situation was really uncommonly awkward.
He had intended all along to restrain the Fascists if
possible from actually killing the culprits, for much
as they deserved this fate, he was Englishman enough
to recoil from lynch-law methods. It was true that he
had no great faith in the Swiss police ; still, after
giving them the fright of their lives, he had meant to
have them handed over to the authorities in the hope
that some justice would be done. But now if he,
Kavanagh, and Alessandro were to be involved in a
legal enquiry into the whole affair, how were they to
prove their own innocence in the matter of Doctor
Hensley's death? The four accomplices would of
course give evidence against them ; they might even
declare that they had actually turned on the electric
.current and killed the doctor. Would an inquest
reveal the contrary ? Brandon could not feel quite
sure.
What was to be done, then? Leave the Fascists
to finish off the culprits so that there would be none
left to tell the tale ? But could they be depended on
to do it so skilfully that no traces of the slaughter
would be found ? Brandon hardly thought so. Then
an enquiry would follow, and the English members of
the party would be held up in Switzerland over an
affair which might take months and seriously hamper
their plan of campaign at home. No, the only thing
was to get out of it all as quickly as possible, even
though it might mean sparing the would-be murderers
from being brought to justice.
" Look here, Alessandro," he said, taking the
Italian aside and speaking in a rapid undertone.
"This business has gone far enough. We've got to
get the lady out of here-into the car. And you and
your friends had better clear out, too. Leave these
miserable creatures alone, they've had fright enough."
" But not without a drink at parting ! " cried
Alessandro, advancing towards them with a gleaming
smile, and the bottle of castor oil held triumphantly
aloft. Grasping first Franklin, then Mervine, Raskoff,
and Krovavaya Katya firmly by the throats, the three
Fascists then proceeded to pour the contents of the
bottle down their gullets. In vain they struggled ;
the Italians' iron muscles were more than a match for
Franklin's and Mervine's flabby resistance, for Ras-
koff's puny blows, or the woman's catlike squirmings.
Leaving their wretched victims spluttering and
heaving in a corner of the room, the rescue-party made
their way upstairs, Kavanagh supporting Rosamund,
the Fascists carrying the body of Doctor Hensley, which
they took out into the forest and deposited on a path-
way. By this means it was hoped that all legal
enquiries would be avoided,. for Doctor Hensley, when
discovered, would appear to have died of heart failure
THE CHEKA 239
whilst walking in the woods, and the only four people
who knew the truth would certainly be very careful to
keep their mouths shut.
Brandon and Kavanagh had taken the precaution to
keep the aeroplane in which they had flown from
Frankfurt ready in case of emergency at the neighbour-
ing aerodrome, so that it was only a matter of an hour
or two to transport Rosamund in the Countess's car
back to the hotel to rejoin her mother, pick up Lady
Dare, and drive on all together to the starting-point
for England.
Dawn found them winging their way across Switzer-
land, leaving Bogazzo and its terrible memories far
behind them.
CHAPTER XII
COSMOS
IT was many weeks before Rosamund recovered from

her terrible experiences. The shock of her capture, the
mental strain induced by twenty hours of ceaseless
questioning by one cross-examiner after another
without food or sleep, the horror of feeling herself
dragged to her death by the clutching fingers of
Krovavaya Katya, had brought about a complete
collapse. For ten days she lay in a darkened room,
unable to talk, and hearing nothing, but answering,
coherently, though faintly, when spoken to.
But as her strength gradually returned it became
evident that this collapse was purely physical; there
was no sign of the mental distress her earlier experiences
in occult circles had induced. In a word, she was no
longer afraid of the power these people could exercise
over her.
"I've always felt somehow," she said to Kavanagh
when at last he was allowed to come and sit beside the
divan on which she lay, " that if I could once get up
against them, meet them in the open, put up a fight
and get the best of it, I should be free for ever from
their influence. Jimmy helped me a lot, but I suppose
there was still a lurking fear in my mind that after all
they might be able to get at me in the way they profess
to be able to do. Well, they did their worst and failed.
The fact that they had to resort to physical violence
showed that, didn't it ? "
COSMOS 241
" Of course it did. You beat them all along the

line."
"Yes. I think I did. Even if they'd killed me, I
should have got the best of it, really."
Suddenly she began to laugh, whilst tears induced by
sheer physical weakness welled up into her eyes. " Oh,
Terence, if only I could have seen them when Alessan-
dro gave them the castor oil! It must have been a
marvellous sight."
"It was. And to crown everything the Fascists
turned the key in the lock before leaving the Temple.
They must have had a pleasant night of it."
At that Rosamund laughed so uncontrollably that
Kavanagh, fearing she might become hysterical,
hastily dropped the subject and went on talking in a
calm and soothing voice :
"Well, that's all over and done with. And you're
not afraid of them any more."
"How could I be? I'd only have to picture
them--" her voice quavered suspiciously, in a
moment she might be off again in a storm of laughter.
" Rosamund," Kavanagh said seriously, "do you
remember saying once, long ago, that you felt you must
have no emotions. That you must not love or hate ? "
She nodded. "Yes. I remember."
"Well, you don't think that any longer? Oh,
darling, can't you love me now ? "
There was a moment's silence. This time there
were tears, not of laughter, in her eyes.
"My very valiant knight! "she said softly.
"No, only your very true and loving knight,"
Terence answered. And with his arms around her
the terrible past vanished for ever like some evil
dream.
16
It was arranged that Terence and Rosamund should
not be married for some months and that their
engagement should not even be announced for the
present. For the quest on which Brandon and
Kavanagh had set out was not yet ended, and nothing
must be allowed to interfere with their work together.
"You belong to the country, Terence," Rosamund
said firmly. " You've got to save that before we
think of our own happiness."
And though he demurred, Kavanagh knew in his
heart that Rosamund was right. Once married his first
thoughts would be for her, and he must give his whole
mind to the cause.
Now they were back in London Brandon and Kavan-
agh found themselves confronted by fresh problems of
a complicated kind. Their investigations on the
Continent had enabled them to collect the threads of
both occult and political intrigues abroad; the difficulty
now was to link up these threads with contacts at
home, and to find out who was pulling the strings
between England and abroad. Moreover, only two
members of the Zodiac had been identified-Capri-
comus of New York and Sagittarius of Bavaria. The
remaining ten, and particularly the London member of
that interesting circle, had yet to be discovered.
But where was the search to begin ? Doctor
Hensley, one of the principal contacts in England, was
dead, Oscar Franklin still walked the earth, but he was
reported in the society columns of the Press to be
entertaining a house-party, including the Prime
Minister, at his grouse moor in Scotland. The Frens-
hams were also away in the country. The Batemans
were cruising in the Mediterranean. The Green-
worthys were at Bath. Evidently for the moment
COSMOS 243
there was little doing.
But everything comes to him who waits, and at the
beginning of October the Press announced that in view
of the growing menace presented by Soviet Russia, a
large anti-Bolshevist meeting was to be held in the
Albert Hall, at which the leading members of the
Conservative Party would be present. "Mr. Murray
Bateman, M.P., the Countess of Buntingford, and
General Brighorn " were to be amongst the speakers,
and Mr. Oscar Franklin would take the chair.
Brandon and Kavanagh decided that it would be
amusing to go and see how Capricomus acquitted
himself on this occasion, when a somewhat different
attitude would be required of him from the one in
which they had last seen him, choking and heaving
on the floor of the clinic.
The meeting was large and enthusiastic, that is to
say, the boxes and the body of the hall were completely
filled by an audience that needed no convincing of the
evils of Bolshevism. Grey or bald heads predominated
amongst the men, whilst the feminine. element-except
for the usual contingent of somnolent dowagers in the
front rows-was largely provided by the gallant
widows and elderly daughters of soldiers and sailors
who can always be depended on to rally to any patriotic
cause, and who make the contemptuous term of " old
woman " an anomaly in days when young men shudder
at the idea of putting up a fight in defence of their
country.
The platform was expensively decorated with
palms and chrysanthemums in pots, forming a pleasing
foreground to the rows of titled or important person-
ages who had given their support to the proceedings-
two dukes, three duchesses, one or two well-known
millionaires, Mr. Bloxham, the Chief Agent of the
Conservative Party, and several leading Members of
Parliament. The humble workers who bore the heat
and burden of the day were relegated to the upper
circle. If the idea had been to illustrate the Socialists'
conception of anti-Bolshevism as a class movement of
the Have-Nots against the Haves, it could not have
been better staged. The Communists, who con-
stituted almost the only occupants of the gallery, would
have little difficulty in providing a burlesque report to
this effect for the columns of the Daily Worker.
The proceedings opened with an excellent speech by
Mr. Oscar Franklin, deploring the apathy of the
British public with regard to the Bolshevist menace,
and expressing the hope that all those present would
contribute generously to the collection for the new
campaign of propaganda that the meeting was to
inaugurate. Letters from the Prime Minister, the
Home Secretary, and the Archbishop of Canterbury
were read aloud expressing their deep regret at their
inability to be present on this auspicious occasion.
A powerful speech was delivered by General Brig-
horn describing the horrors of Bolshevism in terms so
lurid that even the old ladies in the front rows woke
up for a few moments and shivered.
Mr. Murray Bateman, M.P., in a calmer and more
Parliamentary vein, explained the necessity for
differentiating between Communism and Socialism,
and his reminder that " we are all Socialists now " met
with warm applause from a small section of his audi-
ence. The British Labour Party, he went on to say, was
composed of men who could by no stretch of the imagi-
nation be suspected of Bolshevistic tendencies.
Lady Buntingford was certainly extremely well
COSMOS 245
documented, and read aloud statistics showing the
progress of the second Five Years' Plan, which however,
she added, was doomed to failure. (" Then why worry
about it ? "shouted a Communist from the gallery, who
was instantly silenced.) Her figures were remarkably
correct as well indeed they might be, since they had
already been published in the Pravda and passed on to
her in translation by a most charming and well-informed
Russian who had been presented to her at a party, and
who kindly offered to supply her with all the pro-
paganda she might require.
A star turn followed in the shape of a speech in
somewhat halting English by a victim of the Russian
Revolution, Madame Krapotsky, whose markedly
Asiatic features seemed vaguely familiar to Brandon
and Kavanagh.
" I can't think where on earth I've seen her, can
you ? " whispered the former.
" No, but it's coming back to me-wait, Jimmy-
ah ! I've got it ! The woman we saw going out of the
gate of the Villa Pax Mundi-the typical revolutionary
female you called her--do you remember? "
"By Jove. Of course. You've got it. I wonder
what she's doing in England."
They were soon to know. Madame Krapotsky, the
Chairman informed the meeting, was to be employed
as translator by the movement. They were fortunate
in securing the services of this accomplished lady.
The meeting, everyone agreed as the audience
streamed out, had been a brilliant success. The
collecting plates had been returned piled with notes,
and the well-known soap magnate, Mr. Schutzheim, had
sent up a cheque of £r,ooo to the platform.
The Communist hecklers on the whole had behaved
remarkably well, and after emitting a few cat-calls had
subsided into silence. After all there seemed no reason
for creating a disturbance and risking ejection by the
stewards. Not a word had been said that could
damage the Bolshevist cause in the eyes of anyone not
already convinced of its iniquities.
Going out into the foggy atmosphere of the October
night, Kavanagh found himself suddenly confronted
by Myra Greenworthy. They had not met since the
somewhat painful scene in the garden of her father's
house, but Myra evidently harboured no resentment,
for she smiled up at Kavanagh and said mischievously:
" What did you think of it all, Terence ? "
"I thought it most impressive," Kavanagh answered
firmly, duly noting that General Brighorn was standing
at his elbow.
Myra put her head nearer and whispered:
" Did you see Izzy ? "
"No. Was he on the platform? "
Myra laughed. " I think even Izzy could hardly do
that."
Kavanagh remembered hearing that young Franklin
had not achieved his father's popularity with "the
Party," that in fact he was reported to hold "advanced
views," and was believed to have frequently visited
Soviet Russia. But before he could make any reply
Myra had nodded good night and was whirled away in
Sir Paul Greenworthy's luxurious Mercedes in the
direction of Kensington Palace Gardens.
A few nights later Brandon and Kavanagh were

sitting over the fire in the latter's rooms, when the
manservant entered to say that a lady was at the door
and wished to see the Major.
COSMOS 247
"What sort of a lady? "asked Kavanagh.
" Young, sir, and wearing a handsome fur coat.
Seems to be a bit upset, sir."
Kavanagh rose and went to the door. On the
threshold stood Myra Greenworthy, evidently in a
state bordering on hysteria.
" Come in, Myra," he said ; " what on earth's the
matter? "
The girl entered hurriedly. Kavanagh led her into
the sitting-room and introduced Brandon. " The
famous portrait-painter, you know."
"I want to speak to you alone," she said in a
trembling voice, turning to Kavanagh.
"But, Myra, Captain Brandon's my greatest pal
and as wise as an owl. If you're in any difficulties
he's the man to help you," said Kavanagh, determined
that if any revelations were to be made Jimmy should
be there to hear them.
"Well, if he can be depended upon not to talk-
what I've come to tell you is terribly secret, you
understand ? "
" Jimmy won't say a word. Go on, Myra.''.
Myra. hesitated. Then the words came out with a
rush:
"Oh, Terence, I believe Father's in some dreadful
danger."
"How can Sir Paul be in danger?" asked Kavanagh,
puzzled.
" That's what I wondered.'' Suddenly Myra's eyes
filled with tears. " You know what Father has been
to me-since Leopold died and Mother was taken
ill."
Kavanagh nodded. He remembered hearing that
Myra's brother had been killed in the war and that
her mother had gone mad with grief.
"But though Father and I are such friends," Myra
went on, "he doesn't confide in me about his affairs.
And lately he has seemed terribly worried about
something. I couldn't find out what. Only he
seemed always worse when Oscar or Isidore Franklin
had been with him. · I concluded it must be something
to do with business.
" One day Oscar Franklin came and was shut up
with Father in the library for ever so long. I was in
the morning-room opening out of it, you know, and I
could hear their voices through the door, as if they
were arguing, and here and there I could hear a word,
sometimes English, sometimes German. Then at last
I heard Oscar Franklin say in a loud angry voice:
'Very well, Paul; then you are a traitor. You know
that by rights you should have taken your place in the
Zodiac, and that all together we should rule the world.
Now that place will have to be given to another.' 'I
can't help that,' Father said helplessly, and I could
hear him pacing to and fro over the parquet. For a
moment there was silence, then Father said loudly:
'I tell you, Issachar,'-Issachar, you see, is Oscar's
real name-' I tell you, I once felt just as you do
about this country, but I've come to love it. I don't
want to see it go under. After all, my boy died fighting
for it.' I couldn't hear what Franklin said to this, but
it must have been some sort of sneer, for it seemed
to send Father almost mad. 'You dare to call him
that ? ' he shouted, ' my son, my first-born ! ' And it
seemed to me that he was making a rush at Franklin.
I was so frightened of what might happen that I
opened the door and went in.
"Father and Franklin stood and stared at me
COSMOS 249
aghast. Then Franklin turned to me and said with
bitter sarcasm: 'I congratulate you, Myra, on your
father's patriotism. A true Englishman!' With that
he turned on his heel and left the room.
" Father was white and shaken, but he would say
nothing of what had taken place. Since then he has
hardly eaten anything, and sits for hours sunk in silence
brooding over something. And I watch him and
tremble, for I fear their vengeance. That is why I
came to you, Terence ; I felt I must tell someone or I
should go mad." And sinking her head into the
cushions of the chair Myra burst into passionate sobs.
"Stop, Myra," said Kavanagh soothingly, patting
her shoulder as he had done that night in the garden ;
"don't give way to despair. We've got to do some-
thing."
" What can we do ? " asked Myra, sitting up and
looking at him through her tears. "We are powerless.
They are too strong for us."
" Who are too strong for us ? " asked Brandon
quietly.
" The Zodiac-whatever that may be."
" You never heard of it before ? "
" Only once. That was when I came into the room
one day and found Father going through some papers
at his writing-table. One of these was headed ' The
Zodiac,' and underneath was what looked like a list of
names and curious symbols. But when Father saw
me he hastily put it away. He has some secret papers
that he keeps in a hiding-place of his own-not in his
writing desk or despatch-box, to which his secretary
has access, and he allows no one to see those
papers but himself. I conclude the one about the
Zodiac is put away amongst them."
" And you've no idea what the Zodiac is ? "
" I imagined it must be some sort of financial com-
bine. But I think now it's more important than that
-and more secret. I think," and Myra lowered her
voice mysteriously, "it's some terrible conspiracy
which Father knows about, but won't be drawn into.
Izzy, you see, is a Communist ; I believe he's in the
very thick of the Bolshevist conspiracy. By the way,
he hates you, Terence I "
"Me? What have I done to Izzy? "
"Well, you remember that evening in the garden
last summer, when-when-I--,,, blushing faintly,
Myra ended the sentence with a nervous laugh.
"Yes, I remember. You were feeling rather over-
wrought. Go on, Myra."
" And you remember too that we heard a bird in the
bushes behind the summer-house ? "
Kavanagh nodded.
"Well, that bird was Izzy I " said Myra, laughing
this time outright. " The little wretch had followed
us out into the garden and was hiding behind the
summer-house, where he heard the whole of our
conversation. Just the sort of sneaky thing Izzy would
do I So you can imagine he's no love for you, Terence.
You see," she went on, turning to Brandon, " it had
been arranged I should marry Izzy, and what he heard
that night showed him what I felt about the question.
And now he hates Terence with a deadly hatred."
"Has he got a two-seater Bentley?" Kavanagh
enquired with apparent irrelevance.
" Yes. Why do you ask ? "
" Only because a car of that make nearly ran me
down as I was walking home that evening."
"Ah, I'll bet it was Izzy's! His car is a Bentley.
COSMOS 251
He was driving himself, I remember, that evening, and

he left directly after you did. Oh I " Myra added
uncontrollably, " if only we could get Izzy arrested ! "
Once safe in gaol, she was evidently reflecting, any
matrimonial intentions on the part of Isidore would be
effectually thwarted.
" I don't know what we could get him on," Kavan-
agh said meditatively.
"If we could track him to some Communist haunt,"
Myra began. Then fumbling in her gold bag she drew
out a scrap of very crumpled paper. " I wonder
whether this means anything? " she said, handing it
to Kavanagh. "It fell out of Izzy's pocket the other
day, and I picked it up. I thought it might be useful."
Kavanagh read it and passed it on to Brandon.
Only these words were written on it :
" Cosmos II o'clock."
" But there's something on the other side," said

Myra.
Brandon turned it over and read : " ' The night is
fine. And the stars are shining.' What on earth can
that mean? "
"Odd," said Kavanagh. "You've no idea what
Cosmos is, Myra? Is it a person or a place? "
" I haven't a notion.''
"It might be Izzy's barber," Brandon suggested
with a laugh. "Anyhow, let's look up the name in the
Telephone Directory.''
But no Cosmos was registered in its columns.
" If it's a place, it's evidently not a resort that
wants to advertise its existence," said Brandon,
adding: " Which makes it all the more interesting.''
"And therefore worth following up," said Kavan-
agh. " I'll do all I can, Myra."
He was careful to use the first person singular. It
would be imprudent to let the girl know of Brandon's
activities outside his studio.
Myra, now evidently restored to her normal cheer-
fulness, rose to go. The thought of getting a line on
Izzy seemed to exhilarate her.
" I'm so glad you'll do something," she said, pulling
her mink coat around her shoulders.
" And if you could find out a little more about the
Zodiac," Brandon said with well-affected detachment,
"it might perhaps be useful."
" If only I could get hold of that list ! " Myra
answered, looking enquiringly at Kavanagh. "Do
you think that would help, Terence? "
" Help ? I should think it would help ! " And less
cautious than Brandon, Kavanagh put his hand on
Myra's shoulder and said impressively: "Myra, you
must do your level best to get that paper ! "
He had gauged the girl's psychology better than
Brandon, knowing as Brandon did not, the emotions
he had stirred in her heart. For Kavanagh's sake she
was ready to do and dare anything.
" Very well, Terence, if you say so, I'll get it-by
fair means or foul." Her eyes flashed with determina-
tion. And pressing Kavanagh's hand she moved to
the door.
" It's an ugly business," Brandon said after the
flat door had closed behind her. "I'm afraid old
Greenworthy's for it. The orders of the Zodiac are
not to be lightly disobeyed."
"If only we could get Isidore rounded up," said
Kavanagh, "we might put a spoke in their wheel. I
COSMOS 253
have a feeling that if there's any dirty work to be done,
he's the man for it."
" Yes. And the first step is to find out who or
what is Cosmos. I'll get on to that straight away."
During the course of his " double life " Brandon

had had occasion to make many strange friends in all
walks of life. Newspaper boys, flower-sellers, rag and
bone men, had all in turn served their purpose when
information was to be gleaned from the circles in which
they moved, and none of them would have recognised
in Captain Brandon, the society portrait painter, the
odd-looking man in the dirty felt hat and shabby
overcoat who had entered into conversation with them
)
at street corners or at the bar in public-houses. Some

of them doubtless suspected the fellow was a police
"nark," or in the employ of some detective agency,
but the half-crowns that he fished out of his trouser
pocket were always welcome, and no questions need
be asked as to the use made of the news they supplied.
In this way Brandon had collected a small army of
investigators upon whom he could depend when any-
thing in what is known as " low life " had to be dis-
covered.
One of the strangest of this army was Sally Wicks.
Brandon had made her acquaintance some years ago
when, going along one of the by-streets out of Shaftes-
bury Avenue late at night, he came upon a brawl
going on outside the door of a public-house. The
central figure, a girl whose profession was clearly
stamped on her face, was shrinking back in terror from
the advances of a half-caste, obviously drunk, who
reeled before her on the pavement, whilst a small
crowd stood round and jeered. Brandon, pushing his
way amongst them, had taken in the situation at a
glance and rescued the wretched woman from her
tormentor. After that night he had often passed her
in the street, when she never failed to give him a wan
smile and word of greeting. One evening, moved by
pity, he had taken Sally into an Italian restaurant and
given her a meal. The warmth of the place and
human sympathy loosed her tongue, and she talked of
her life, her troubles, and what might have been, for
she had once had visions of better things. She had her
loyalties, too.
In the course of further meetings Brandon dis-
covered that the Royal Family occupied a peculiar
place in her affections. He had come upon her during
the King's illness in 1929, standing in the crowd around
Buckingham Palace with the tears welling between
her blackened eyelids and making grimy channels in the
rouge of her cheeks. This suggested possibilities, and
Brandon took to employing her for little jobs. Owing
to the fact that she looked so plainly what she was she
could penetrate into places where a respectable woman
would be regarded with suspicion and where useful
information was sometimes to be obtained. Brandon
found he could trust her too, and, though he remained
Mr. Peters to her, she became one of the few to whom he
disclosed something of the true nature of his investiga-
tions. Communism in itself meant nothing to her, but
the insults to the Royal Family uttered by Communist
orators roused her to fury and nerved her to undertake
any enterprise for their undoing, however hazardous.
The money she earned in this way counted for little
compared to the glory of feeling she was working for the
King.
A day or two after Myra's visit to Kavanagh's flat,
COSMOS 255
Brandon, crossing Piccadilly Circus towards midnight,
found himself face to face with Sally Wicks.
" Sally," he said, "would you like to do a job of
work?"
"Wouldn't I just? Anything to do with those
b-- Reds?"
" Yes. I want you to find out, if you can, who or
what is 'Cosmos.' Here, I'll write it down for you."
And he handed her a slip of paper.
Sally looked at it and screwed up her nose.
"Sounds nasty, don't it, dearie? How do I set to
work?"
"' Better drop in for a meal at some of the small
restaurants in Soho, and see if you can pick up any-
thing," Brandon said, slipping a pound note into her
hand.
" Right-o. I'll see what I can do, Mr. Peters ..
Same address as usual ? "
And with a nod she disappeared into the crowd.
The address was that of Rigby's sister, who kept a
small sweet shop in Chelsea. Four days later a letter
duly arrived there addressed to Mr. Peters in Sally's
sprawling hand. It was short and to the point :
" I've found out what it is. Its a restarrong. Don't

know where yet but hope to soon. I'll be by the Palace
tomorrow evening at seven."
Brandon, impatient for further news, kept the

rendezvous in Shaftesbury Avenue. Sally, her face
aglow with triumph, was waiting for him.
"It's in Pond Street. Got it out of a waiter at
Bonino's, where I dropped in last night. Spaniard he
was, I should say ; seemed a chatty sort of fellow, so I
just said: ' Know Cosmos?' Looked a bit queer, told
me where it was. So I thought I'd step that way and
have a look. There it was large as life."
" What's it like ? "
" Oh, a beastly hole! " Sally said, making a face.
"Well, if you don't mind, I think we'll go and have
a meal there."
" Right-o. This evening? "
"Yes, I'll be back here at eleven."
At the appointed hour Brandon, in the guise of a
German Communist, joined Sally near the Palace and
followed as she led the way to Pond Street. After
passing a small Kosher restaurant they came to a
sign with the words " Cafe Cosmos " written in small
lettering over a circle with a point in the middle.
Opening the door they entered a long room with
no tables but a bar at the end, behind which sat a man
of swarthy appearance smoking a thin Spanish cigar
and reading the Moscow News. Putting down the
paper he looked at the new arrivals enquiringly and
not without suspicion.
"Good evening, comrade," said Brandon, speaking
English with a well-assumed German accent.
The man at the desk returned the greeting gruffly
and then added as if expecting a reply :
" The night is fine."
Where had Brandon heard these words recently ?
Suddenly remembering the note on Izzy's scrap of
paper, he answered with only an instant's hesita-
tion:
" And the stars are shining."
"That was last week," said the man at the desk.
" Where are you from ? "
"From Hamburg. The comrades there told me I
COSMOS 257
should be welcome here." And Brandon produced a
card of membership to the K.P.D. in the name of Otto
Schmidt.
The man looked reassured.
" Good. But they should have kept you up to date.
And your companion ? "
" An Englishwoman. A friend, but not yet one of
ours."
"Then she can't come in."
Brandon looked at Sally, who immediately under-
stood.
"All right," she said, nodding. "Good night, Mr.
Schmidt, see you another evening." And moving to
the door, she went out into the street.
"You can go through now, comrade," said the man,
jerking his head in the direction of a door at the side of
the desk.
Brandon entered and found himself in a back room,
where some dozen men and women were seated at
small tables evidently more engrossed in conversation
than in the meagre refreshments placed before them by
a girl with short black hair brushed straight back from
her forehead, wearing a greasy scarlet blouse.
The assembled company looked at Brandon
enquiringly as he sat down at an empty table in the
comer and asked for a glass of vodka.
After a moment's silence the conversation was
resumed again in low voices and in a variety of lan-
guages-Spanish, German, Yiddish, and Russian.
Brandon could catch only a few words here and there-
" capitalism-the bourgeois-tovarisch," the usual
phraseology of Communism.
"You are a stranger," said the girl in the red blouse,
putting the vodka down before Brandon, and he felt
17
that the rest of the company were listening for his
reply.
" Yes, I have only just arrived in London. I'm
from Hamburg."
" Ach so ? " said a man sitting near him. " And
how are things going there ? "
"Badly," answered Brandon briefly. For the
moment, he decided, the less he said the better.
The man, after a few desultory remarks, turned again
to his companions, leaving Brandon to consume his
vodka in silence. After a while he got up and went out.
The evening had yielded little, but one visit could not
be expected to lead to anything of interest. It was
evidently necessary to become an habitue.
"One can come again, comrade? " he said, as he
went out to the man at the desk, who nodded assent.
After this Brandon took to dropping in every few
nights and was soon on friendly though not con-
fidential terms with his neighbours. No longer
curious as to his identity, they seemed to have decided
that he was a comrade of little importance. But their
voices were now raised at moments so that Brandon
could catch interesting fragments of conversation.
" But the English, what can one do with them ? "
said one in Yiddish. " A wooden-headed race. They
will never make a revolution."
"No," said another," that is why we've got to make
it for them. By the spring you'll see-things will
begin to happen--" and the speaker's voice sank into
a whisper.
Another time a discussion was taking place in
Russian. "But Welsky, he is their mascot," said a
voice, and Brandon listened with all his ears, for
"Prinz Welsky" is Russian for the Prince of Wales.
COSMOS 259
Again the conversation became inaudible. Then
someone said in a louder tone: "But, Mangin, that was
simple, he attended a banquet."
Of what followed only one word could be heard.
That word was " pneumonia." Brandon duly noted it
on the tablets of his memory.
One evening a curious incident occurred. A group
of five men occupying a table in the corner had been
doing themselves better than usual and were talking
with unaccustomed freedom in Yiddish. Suddenly
one of them put on his hat and began to mutter what
sounded like a prayer in a language unknown to
Brandon.
"But surely, Jakov," said a young man-a new-
comer-in evident surprise, " as a Communist you do
not believe in religion ? Then why do you recite the
Schema? "
"You fool," retorted the other, "what is Commun-
ism to us ? Don't you know it is only the means by
which we mean to attain the mastery of the world ? "
The others nodded assent, and the young man re-
lapsed into silence.
Two points Brandon remarked as of particular in-
terest. One was that none of the leaders of the British
Communist Party with whose faces he was perfectly
familiar were to be seen here. Evidently they were not
in the inner councils of the movement-" Dumm-
kopfe " he heard them once referred to in the course of
a conversation.
The second point was that tpe phraseology employed
by these people had nothing of the occult ring notice-
able in the correspondence he had gone through at
Bogazzo. The Zodiac was never mentioned, nor were
any classical pseudonyms employed; the language, in
fact, was that of pure Communism. Brandon judged
that these people formed an inner circle for carrying out
the dictates of Moscow, but were some way removed
from the Hidden Chiefs who composed the secret inner
ring of the world movement.
Meanwhile, not a sign had been seen of the main

object of Brandon's search-Isidore Franklin. Bran-
don began to wonder if he had failed to recognise him,
for he had only met him once at a dinner-party carefully
groomed with highly polished hair and in smart black
evening clothes, a shirt front straight from the Rue de la
Paix, and a large cabochon ruby gleaming on his little
finger. This was certainly not the get-up in which he
would be likely to visit Cosmos, and Brandon kept his
eyes open for a camouflaged edition of that enterprising
young man. Then one night when Brandon had stayed
later than usual and was preparing to get up from his
table in a corner of the room, the door opened, and a
new " comrade " entered. This time there could be
no doubt it was " Izzy," in spite of the shabby black
coat, the voluminous red tie, the felt hat well pulled
down to his eyes, which were concealed by a pair of
thick black spectacles. It was certainly not the spruce
and opulent Izzy of West-End dinner-tables, but it was
Izzy all the same, and on the little finger of his right
hand he still wore the large cabochon ruby.
His entrance appeared to create no small stir amongst
the habitues of Cosmos, for several rose respectfully and
made room for him at a table.
"Things are going well," he said in German, sitting
down with his back to Brandon, who, from the move-
ment of his shoulders, guessed that he was taking some-
thing from an inner pocket of his coat.
COSMOS 261
Turning from one to another of the group, Izzy spoke

in short sharp sentences :
"You have worked well, Reuben Aaronovitch," or
"Yasha Jidovski, your work has not been entirely
satisfactory. You must show more energy in future."
And so on.
"He is distributing money,"Brandon said to himself,
though the shoulders of the group were pressed too
closely together for him to see what was taking place
on the table. Each man received Izzy's remarks and,
presumably, the notes handed to him, humbly as com-
ing from a superior, though one or two grumbled about
the difficulty of making headway here.
" What can one do in London, the stronghold of
Capitalism?" said one, louder than the rest.
Brandon sipped his vodka thoughtfully. So Izzy
was the intermediary between the Zodiac and the inner
circle of the foreign Communists in London, passing on
to them the funds provided by that mysterious source
of wealth which financed all phases of the world move-
ment in turn.
At this moment Izzy rose to go, and on his way to the
door spotted Brandon in the far corner of the room.
" Who is that fellow ? " he asked, stopping suddenly
with a gesture in Brandon's direction.
"He is a German comrade," answered one of the
group. "He comes here often."
" Have you asked him for his proofs ? " demanded
Isidore.
"Pedro admitted him, so he must have given the
word."
" Well, let him give it now I You have fared well ? "
he added, turning to Brandon, and evidently waiting
for a reply.
"Excellently," said Brandon, saying the first thing
that came into his head.
"That is not the answer."
" But, comrade, I did not know that a new pass-
word was necessary each time one came here. I under-
stood that all comrades were welcome."
" Of course. But you should have been able to
answer that," said Isidore peremptorily.
Brandon was now completely at a loss. With the
higher initiates such as Brinkdorff and Oscar Franklin
it had been easier to get out of the situation with
masonic grips and pass-words, but at Cosmos something
else was needed-evidently a pass-word, that was
changed weekly. He had not anticipated this situa-
tion ; usually this kind of test formed the prelude to
admission, once that Rubicon had been passed he had
concluded that no direct challenge of the kind would be
offered. But Isidore Franklin was evidently more
vigilant than his companions ; moreover, the transac-
tions of that evening demanded greater secrecy than
the desultory conversation that went on at Cosmos.
Brandon's failure to give the required pass-word there-
fore roused him to furious suspicion.
" Call in Pedro I " he said to the comrade at the door.
The order was obeyed, and the sullen bar-keeper
entered the room.
" What did you mean by admitting this fellow with-
out the proper tests ? " he said in German.
" But he answered nearly right the first evening.
And he showed his card of membership to the K.P.D."
"Nearly right is not enough. And he cannot answer
now. Show your card of membership," he went on,
turning to Brandon, who produced it from an inner
pocket.
COSMOS
Isidore looked at it critically.
"Who knows whether this is genuine? For all we
can tell the fellow is an impostor, a spy of the British
Secret Service. However, we shall soon find out. He
will appear before the G.P.U. and prove himself-if he
is able."
"Decidedly troublesome," Brandon thought to him-
self, for he well knew the impossibility of escaping from
the room with the steel doors which formed the London
branch of the Cheka, now more euphoniously re-
named the G.P.U. Determined not to be captured
without a struggle, he made a dash for the exit, but half
a dozen men closed around him and he was over-
powered.
Isidore stood by issuing his commands :
"Morris, place a gag over the fellow's mouth.
Reuben, pinion his arms behind his back and lead him
to the door. My car is waiting a little farther up the
street. Summon Maimun to come up to the door and
push him into the car as quickly as possible."
The order was instantly obeyed. Brandon felt him-
self seized from behind, his arms bound tightly with a
leather belt that one of the comrades removed from his
own body, a handkerchief was stuffed into his mouth
and another tied across it and knotted at the back of
his head. Then he was led through the bar to the
entrance, where the car, driven by Franklin's negro
chauffeur, waited.
But just as he was being hurried across the pavement
a sudden pandemonium arose, and Brandon found him-
self the centre of a struggling crowd, blows rained like
hail on the heads of his captors, Isidore dashed through
the open door of the car and was driven rapidly away.
The next moment Brandon felt his arms released, the
gag torn from his mouth, friendly hands gripped his,
whilst Sally, with her arms round his neck, was kissing
him soundly on both cheeks.
From the moment Brandon had taken to frequenting

Cosmos, Sally had lived in a state of acute anxiety.
"Mr. Peters," the strange man in the shabby overcoat
was what the " Confession Books " called her " greatest
hero in real life." Not only had he come to her rescue
that night several years ago like the knight in a story
book saving a damsel in distress, but he was the only
man who had ever shown her any human sympathy
and given her honourable work to do, the work that
above all other raised her in her own eyes as being per-
formed in the service of the King. If" anything hap-
pened " to Mr. Peters all that side of Sally's sordid life
would be at an end. And in going alone to Cosmos she
felt convinced that he was running a terrible risk. In
vain she had begged him to take a companion with
him, but, as he had pointed out, no one unprovided
with the necessary credentials would be able to gain
admittance. He alone was capable of carrying the
thing through. But Sally determined not to leave
things to chance. If Mr. Peters would not take care of
himself she would see to his safety. It happened that
she had a lover amongst the young fish-porters in
Billingsgate, some of whom were as loyal as herself.
Hatred of the alien ran high in the minds of these men,
and it was as aliens that they loathed the Communists
who frequented that part of London. It was therefore
to Bill Hodgett that Sally confided her fears for the
safety of Mr. Peters when he took to frequenting Cos-
mos, and thus, unknown to Brandon, every night that
he had spent there, Sally with Bill and several of his
COSMOS
heftiest mates had wandered round the restaurant,
keeping guard on the entrance and never returning
home until they had seen " Mr. Peters " emerge safely
from the doorway.
Bill and his band were therefore all ready when, on
the fateful evening Brandon, gagged and bound, was
seen in the act of being hustled into the waiting motor
and the opportunity for a scrap with the alien Reds
gave them no less satisfaction than the rescue of Sally's
hero, Mr. Peters. They would have liked to pursue
them and get in a few more punches as bruised and
battered they took to their heels in all directions, but a
word from Brandon brought them to a halt. So far the
whole affair had happened so quickly that neither the
police nor a curious crowd had been attracted to the
spot, and "Mr. Peters," having thanked his rescuers
with a warm handshake all round and a " Good night,
Sally; God bless you," was able to slip away unobserved
from the scene of action.
It was the proudest moment of Sally's life. Those
words " God bless you " echoed in her ears as she made
her way homewards, walking as if to the strains of a
triumphal march.
Once out of danger, Brandon, as was his wont, put
his personal experiences at Cosmos out of his mind, and
set to work on the clues he had collected there. It was
not till a week later that the circumstances of his rescue
were suddenly recalled to his memory. He had
entered a train on the District Railway and picked
up the evening paper when a small paragraph caught
his eye.
"Sarah Wicks, aged 27, of no occupation, was found
stabbed to the heart last night in a passage leading off
Pond Street, Covent Garden. A young Russian,
Reuben Aaronsohn, seen in the vicinity, was detained
by the police, but released for lack of evidence con-
necting him with the crime. The matter is in the hands
of Scotland Yard."
Brandon put down the paper with a spasm of im-

potent fury at these miserable things being possible in
a civilised country. So Sally had paid for his life with
her own I Nothing had ever touched him so poig-
nantly in the course of his adventurous career.
CHAPTER XIII
A KENSINGTON TRAGEDY
WHILSTthese events had been taking place Myra was

passing through alternating moments of hope and des-
pair. Her father's depression seemed to be growing
deeper, and she dreaded he might be driven to some
desperate deed. But at the same time she had faith in
Kavanagh, for she was convinced that Isidore was in
some way connected with the trouble weighing on her
father's mind; once Izzy had been rounded up she felt
the danger that threatened him would be averted.
Meanwhile, she had her own work to do. She could
still feel the touch of Kavanagh's hand on her shoulders
and his voice, with that light suspicion of a brogue,
saying: "Myra, you must do your level best to get
that paper I " Well, she would find its hiding-place-
show what she was able to do for him, then Terence
would love her and all would be well.
One evening Kavanagh, sitting over the fire in his
rooms with Brandon, heard the telephone bell ring and
took up the receiver. A startled look came over his
face.
" What is it ? " said Brandon.
"A most extraordinary sound-the sound of laboured
breathing-coming in gasps-who is it?" Kavanagh
said quickly, speaking into the receiver.
Still the same gasping sound.
" Who is it ? " he repeated.
Then a voice said faintly :
1.67
" It's-it's-My-My-Myra--"
" Myra ! What's the matter? "
A pause followed, then the same gasping whisper
said:
"Come-come-quickly. I'm-dying."
The last word was almost inaudible. Then complete
silence followed.
"Good Lord!" said Kavanagh. "What can have
happened? Jimmy! We've got to get busy, come on."
Followed by Brandon, to whom he rapidly explained
what he had heard, Kavanagh ran into the hall and
flung on his overcoat. Hurrying downstairs the two
men hailed a taxi, telling the chauffeur to drive with all
speed to Kensington Palace Gardens. Fortunately,
the streets at this hour were clear, and they arrived in
less than ten minutes at their destination.
" Is Miss Greenworthy ill ? " said Kavanagh to the
footman who opened the door-an intelligent-looking
young man whom Kavanagh remembered as" Albert,"
and who gave him a quick look of recognition. The
man looked surprised.
" Not that I know of, sir. She's in the library, I be-
lieve, with Sir Paul-at least, she was about twenty
minutes ago. If you'll come this way, sir," and he led
the way through the hall and opened the library door.
At first the room appeared to be empty. The dim
light from one electric reading-lamp left the corners in
almost complete darkness. The heavy, rather delicious
perfume Kavanagh remembered noticing that even-
ing in the garden hung in the air.
" Is there no one here ? " he said, going forward, and
even as he spoke he suddenly saw through the shadows
at the farther end of the room two forms lying prostrate
on the floor.
A KENSINGTON TRAGEDY 269
"Sir Paul and Myra!" he said under his breath.
"And they're dead."
The three men approached quickly. Yes, there
could be no doubt about it. That was Sir Paul, his
eyes closed in death, with a round hole in his temple
from which the blood was slowly trickling, and an old
Browning pistol lying close to his right hand. Myra
too seemed to have ceased breathing, but no wound was
visible, only on examining her blue velvet gown a dull
red stain over the left breast was visible. Beside her,
overturned on the floor, was the telephone which she
had evidently pulled down from the table near at hand
in order to breathe her last words to Terence.
Throwing himself on his knees beside her, Kavanagh
put his hand on hers ; it was still warm, and the pulse
was very feebly beating.
"She's not dead yet," he whispered. "Fetch some
brandy-quick ! "
Albert, who had remained rooted to the ground with
terror, awoke as from a dream, and hurrying from the
room returned with a glass of brandy. Brandon had
knelt down on the other side of Myra and gently held
her lips apart as Kavanagh with one arm beneath her
head poured the liquid between them.
At first she did not move, then after a while she gave
a shuddering sigh and opened her eyes.
"Terence," she whispered.
" Yes, Myra, what has happened ? "
"Father did it-he found-out-I had-spoken
--" she said in the same gasping whisper that had
sounded through the telephone, pausing between each
word. " He was--" and her voice failed her.
"He was what, Myra?" said Brandon, determined
to obtain what evidence he could before it was too late.
For his practised eye told him that Myra had only a
few moments to live.
"Afraid-of-their-their vengeance."
And her eyes closed again.
" That's the end," Brandon said softly.
But it was not quite the end. Once more Myra
opened her eyes, and looking straight into Kavanagh's
smiled faintly. Then, as if with a superhuman effort,
she whispered :
" Ta-tal-talisman I"
Her eyes closed again, another shuddering sigh broke
from her lips, and she lay still with Kavanagh's arms
around her.
" It's all over, Terence," said Brandon, rising. And
turning to the footman, he added·: " Run out and get a
policeman as quick as you can. We'll stay here till he
comes."
As soon as Albert returned Brandon said to him :
"Have you any idea how all this happened? "
"None, sir. Only the master's not been himself for
some time. Seemed as if he had something on his
mind. And this evening, when he came back from the
City, he seemed more upset than usual. Hardly
touched his dinner, sat looking at his plate without
speaking. I could see Miss Myra was worried about
him. Afterwards, when they'd gone into the library, I
was passing the door and heard him talking aloud-
shouting if I might say so, sir-as if he was going for
Miss Myra about something. There seemed to be a
regular row going on, so to speak."
" You heard nothing that he said ? "
" I'm not given to listening, sir."
"No, but if he was talking so loud you might have
heard something without listening," said Brandon.
" Come on, Albert, tell us what you know. It's really
important."
" It's not for me to speak, sir."
"Yes, it is-if you can throw any light on the matter."
Albert hesitated and then said :
"Well, sir, it was only a few words. I heard the
master say angrily : ' You have spoken I You can't
deny it!' And Miss Myra cried out: 'It was to save
you. I knew you were in danger. I couldn't stand by
and see you threatened I ' That seemed to send him
almost mad. He raged up and down the room shout-
ing : ' You've ruined me. You've ruined me I They'll
take their revenge.' "
" Was that all, Albert ? "
"Yes, sir, after that I went back to the pantry. It's
a good way from the library, you understand, sir. One
can't hear nothing there that goes on in this part of the
house."
" And you've no idea what was troubling Sir Paul ? "
" Well, sir; I hardly like to say."
"Yes, speak out, Albert. We won't give you away.
What do you think was the matter ? "
Sinking his voice to a confidential whisper, Albert
said:
" I should say that it's all along of Mr. Oscar Frank-
lin or his son Mr. Isidore-the master always seemed
worse when he'd been with them," and the man's face
took on a sudden look of hatred.
" You don't like Mr. Isidore ? "
"No, sir, I don't, and that's a fact. Always nosing
into everything, if you understand what I mean, sir."
" Perfectly," nodded Brandon. " What you've
told us is very useful, Albert."
By this time the police had arrived and began to take
copious notes of the affair. It was soon evident that
Sir Paul Greenworthy had shot his daughter through
the heart and then turned the weapon on himself. As
to the motive of the double crime that was a matter for
speculation. "Did Miss Greenworthy say nothing
more to this effect ? '' asked the police. Yes, she had
said: " He was afraid of their vengeance." The phrase
was duly noted in their pocket-books. This was as
much as was necessary for them to know, and the en-
quiry being ended, Brandon and Kavanagh left by
permission of the police. But before going out into the
night Brandon contrived to slip his card and a pound
note into Albert's hand, saying in an undertone :
" Good night, Albert. You'll be wanting a drop of
something to pull you round after all this. Here's my
address and telephone number in case you may have
anything to communicate. You understand ? " he
added significantly.
" Perfectly, sir," the man answered with a quick look
of intelligence.
"I think Albert may be useful to us," Brandon said
as they made their way home through the darkness.
" He seems to know more than he'll say at present.
It's just as well to keep in touch with him."
"Yes," Kavanagh answered in an abstracted voice.
For the moment he could not get his mind back on to
the track of investigation ; the horror of the tragedy
they had just witnessed was still close around him.
He had looked death in the face often during the war,
but to Terence, always tender where women were con-
cerned, this seemed different. Myra, poor Myra,
always so full of life and gaiety, had died in his arms.
This thought occupied him to the exclusion of all other
considerations. But after a while as he went over the
scene again in his mind her last words of all recurred to
him, and he broke a long silence by saying:
" By the way, Jimmy, what do you think Myra
meant by 'talisman' ? "
"I've been wondering about that myself. She must
have meant something-something important, too.
Her mind wasn't wandering, poor girl I But I can't
imagine what she did mean."
" Do you think she carried a talisman on her she
wanted us to have? "
"It's possible. We may find out through the ser-
vants. I've a feeling we're not at the end of the
mystery."
They had not long to wait for further developments.
The next night at two o'clock in the morning the
telephone bell at Brandon's bedside rang.
" It's Albert, sir," said a voice.
" Yes, what is it ? "
"I think you and Major Kavanagh had better come
along at once, sir. There's some men in the house-
not ordinary burglars, you understand, sir. If you
could come round to the back door I'd let you in quietly
and take them by surprise."
"Good. We'll be round immediately."
Quickly ringing up Kavanagh, Brandon threw on his
clothes and taxied rapidly to Kensington Palace Gar-
dens, arriving there almost at the same moment as his
friend. Albert, advancing on tiptoe, opened the back
door noiselessly.
" They're in the library," he said in an undertone,
"going through the master's papers, I suspect. There
were some he kept very secret, you understand, sir."
"Ah, and have you any idea who the men are?"
"Mr. Isidore Franklin and some of his lot, if I'm not
18
mistaken. They got in through the billiard-room
window where the latch was broken. Only Mr. Isidore
would know that, for he heard the master giving orders
for it to be repaired."
"Good. We'll go straight for them," said Brandon.
And walking to the library door they threw it boldly
open.
Albert was right. At the writing desk beside a care-
fully shaded light sat Isidore Franklin turning over a
mass of papers, whilst his two men were engaged in
pulling out drawers and evidently hunting desperately
for some missing document.
"May I ask what you people are doing here? "said
Kavanagh.
Isidore sprang to his feet as if he had been shot, but
quickly recovering his composure, he answered in his
usual derisive tone :
" If it comes to that, what are you doing here ? "
"We came because we heard the house had been
broken into. Now we find you are the burglar."
"Yes, I am the burglar," Isidore said calmly, and
signing to his men to leave the room he took up his
stand on the hearthrug and lit a cigarette. It was evi-
dent that he entirely failed to identify Brandon with
Otto Schmidt of Cosmos. Albert discreetly retired,
leaving Kavanagh and Brandon to deal with the situa-
tion.
"Yes," Isidore repeated, "I am the burglar. I was
looking for something amongst Greenworthy's papers.
What are you going to do about it ? "
" Call in the police."
" Capital. And what do you suppose they will do? "
"Arrest you for feloniously entering this house," said
Kavanagh.
" I think they would find that more difficult than you
imagine," Isidore said with an enigmatic smile.
And in the same cool voice he went on :
" Perhaps you think they could get me on some other
count ? For my Communist activities, for example?
Oh yes, Major Kavanagh, I know that as a candidate of
the Conservative Party you must be interested in these
questions. And from something Myra let fall one day
in a moment of-shall we say petulance ?-I gathered
she suspected me of Bolshevik sympathies. As Myra's
dear friend and confidant," Izzy went on with a derisive
bow in Kavanagh's direction, "she no doubt spoke of
this to you. In that case you're probably anxious to
find out more about what you call the Communist con-
spiracy. As I happen to be in the thick of it, there is
no one who can tell you about it better than I. Is there
anything you would like to ask me ? Take a'cigarette,"
and Isidore held out a jewel:-studded case with a smile.
Ignoring the outstretched hand and taking a cigarette
from his own case, Kavanagh said:
" Yes. When do you propose to bring off the Revolu-
tion?"
" The Revolution ? " Isidore answered with a shrug.
" Do you really think one will be necessary ? There
was a time, some ten to fifteenyears ago, when Capital-
ism stood firm in this country and its overthrow seemed
only possible by violence. But that time has passed.
Lenin was right in saying that the best method was
boring from within. Now that process has been
accomplished, and the financial structure of this coun-
try has been shaken to its foundations, why should our
people risk their lives by bombs and barricades ? Why
break down an open door? We can obtain all we want
by legislation."
"This is interesting, Mr. Franklin," said Brandon,
seating himself comfortably in an armchair ; " pray go
on."
"Certainly. Where had I got to ? Ah, I was saying
we could obtain all we want by legislation. The Labour
Party are under our direction. Our pact with them is
concluded. The Liberals are dominated by our people.
As to the Conservatives, to which you "-smiling again
at Kavanagh-" propose to attach yourself, we have
our men or women in every key position behind the
scenes. All that goes on in the secret councils of the
Party is known to us immediately, so that we can
counter every measure that is opposed to our interests.
At the next election it will take its third defeat and go
out once and for all."
" And what do you propose to do then ? Set up a
Soviet Republic? "
" That will depend. The same methods are not
suited to every country. In Russia the Soviet system
has so far answered our purpose very well. When it
ceases to do so we shall replace it by another that will
suit us equally. Here we shall probably start in quite a
different manner."
" By taking over the banks and nationalising in-
dustry? " ·
" Certainly we shall take over the banks and, as you
call it, ' nationalise ' industry, that is to say, run it our-
selves. A great part of it is already in our hands.
Your native bankers will offer no resistance, for it is on
us they depend for advice, and up to the last moment
they will continue to believe they still control the
finances of the country."
"The people will rise against you," said Kavanagh.
"You've not got mere moujiks to deal with here."
A KENSINGTON TRAGEDY 27.7
" The people ! They will never rise as long as we
keep them amused and fed, which we shall do until the
time comes for us to take over power openly. The
people dance to any tune we play for them. Already
we decide what they shall eat, drink, wear, read, and
listen to. The stupid public accepts what it is given
by us. The cinemas are ours. The radio all over
the world broadcasts our propaganda. The literary
world is under our control. No writer who dares to
attack us can obtain a hearing; only those who serve
our purpose can hope to succeed. We arrange this
success for them, for we can make any author,
speaker, artist that we please. As to the Press, not one
word can be printed in the newspapers that we do not
approve. No editor could hold his post a day who
dared to publish what is detrimental to us."
"But the Press," said Kavanagh, "constantly
publishes columns against Bolshevism."
" Against Bolshevism-yes, the fac;ade-and even
then in such a way as not to injure it. Those columns
merely serve to advertise the power of the Soviet
Government just as the anti-Godless campaign in this
country gives publicity to our propaganda by repro-
ducing cartoons and what it calls ' blasphemies ' that
we could never hope to get into the Capitalist Press.
But soon the Press will be absolutely ours; then we shall
print everything that we please. Already we have our
agents in every newspaper office, in every Government
Department, in the Home Office, in Scotland Yard.
Don't you understand," and Izzy's voice rose triumph-
antly, " don't you understand that we are already the
masters of the world I What can you do against us ? "
There was a moment's silence whilst Izzy, panting
with excitement, squared his shoulders, tucked his
thumbs into the armholes of his waistcoat, and flashed
defiance at his listeners.
"As a mere matter of curiosity," Brandon said at
last, taking his cigarette slowly out of his mouth," why
do you tell us all this, Mr. Franklin? It's surely some-
what indiscreet to let us into all your plans in this
way?"
" Why do I tell you all this ? " Isidore repeated,
breaking into a derisive laugh. "For the simple reason
that it doesn't matter what you know, for you can make
no use of it I
"Yes," he went on in the same jeering tone of
triumph, "you can do what you like with the informa-
tion I have given you to-night. Go to the Home Office,
to Scotland Yard, to all the heads of the Secret Service,
to the Prime Minister, and to the Press, and tell them
what I have told you. Tell them we intend to over-
throw the Monarchy and the Government of this coun-
try, to take over finally that derelict concern the British
Empire, to place the banks under our control, to sweep
away the last remnants of the Christianity we hate, for
it is true, all this is true I But no one will believe you I
We shall spread the rumour that you are mad, as we
have done in the case of others who have become
dangerous to us. For the power is already in our
hands, and we know how to use it."
Then suddenly dropping his tone of light irony, Isi-
dore came close up to Kavanagh, and with flashing eyes,
clenched fists, and a look of malignant fury, almost spat
these words into his face :
" We know also how to deal with those who dare to
oppose us ! "
Quick as lightning Kavanagh dealt the young man
a stinging blow with his open hand which sent him
reeling across the room. It was the action of a school-
boy, he told himself the next moment, but the impulse
to hit back in answer to Izzy's insolent threat had been
irresistible, and he had obeyed it before he knew what
he was doing. Taking a step backwards he squared his
elbows to resist the counterblow which Izzy might be
expected to deliver, but to his amazement a look of
abject terror spread over Izzy's countenance; for the
first time he ceased to look derisive, his hands dropped
to his sides, his fingers crooked nervously, then with
head bent forward between his hunched shoulders he
made for the door, opened it quickly, and went out.
Brandon and Kavanagh looked at each other and
burst into a shout of laughter.
"Well, you've won Isidore's respect!" said Bran-
don, " he'll think twice before he threatens a white
man again. He forgot that you're not yet a politician
to be intimidated."
"No; it would take more than Izzy to intimidate me.
Still, I'm afraid there's a certain amount of truth in
what he said. We couldn't get him on what he told us
to-night. He was careful, you see, not to give us any
data we could go on. Now, if only we could get the
list of the Zodiac of which Myra spoke that would be
documentary evidence."
" Yes, but I doubt their really committing themselves
by putting names on paper-in plain language at any
rate. Still, Myra must have seen something written-
some very secret document old Greenworthy kept
amongst his most private papers. I shouldn't be sur-
prised if those are what Izzy was hunting for to-night
when we surprised him ! "
" By Jove, I never thought of that. What's more,
he evidently didn't find them, so the document may be
still here somewhere-probably in the room at this
moment. If only we knew where to look for it. D'you
know, Jimmy," Kavanagh went on meditatively, " I
feel sure those last words of poor Myra's had something
to do with it."
" Yes, I've thought that several times. But I can't
for the life of me imagine what she could mean by the
talisman."
Brandon was pacing the room as he spoke, and sud-
denly stopped dead in front of one of the bookshelves
that ran round the library walls.
" Good Lord ! I've had an idea. Old Greenworthy
seems to have made a jolly good collection."
" ' The hundred best books ' I should think to start
with-I don't imagine he was much of a reader."
"No. But he'd be bound to have Walter Scott
amongst them," Brandon said, running his eye along
the shelves. " Ah, yes, here we are ! What about
this ? " and he pointed to a volume.
" The Talisman I By Jove, Jimmy, I quite forgot
that was the name of one of Scott's novels. Could that
be what Myra meant? Haul it out quickly!"
Brandon took the book from the shelf, opened and
shook it. Out from between the pages there floated a
sheet of paper. He stooped quickly and picked it up.
"What is it? "Kavanagh asked breathlessly.
" A list of names-and symbols-the Zodiac ! "
Yes, there could be no doubt about it. There were
the twelve names, each followed by its Zodiacal symbol,
together with the sphere of action assigned to each.
They appeared to have been scribbled down hastily as a
sort of temporary memorandum, not as a document
intended for preservation. The handwriting was un-
mistakably that of Sir Paul Greenworthy.
"This must be the list Myra told us about," said

Brandon, " and that she evidently managed to get hold
of-probably the night she died. Otherwise she'd have
got it to us. I expect she heard her father coming, and
was afraid of being caught, so shoved it into this book
for safety."
" And told us with her last breath where to find it !
Good Myra ! "
" Yes. She took a big risk in pinching it. I never
thought she'd really be able to get hold of anything of
the kind," said Brandon.
"Because you felt sure the names would never have
been put on paper? "
"Nor would they-by the Zodiac themselves. But
this list wasn't drawn up by them, it was drawn up by
Greenworthy, who refused to be one of them. You
notice there is an empty space in front of the sign of
Taurus ? That corroborates Myra's story of the scene
that took place between him and Franklin."
" Then I wonder how he managed to get hold of the
list ? "
Brandon thought a moment.
"It seems to me that it may have been like this,"
he said slowly. "In the past Greenworthy had evi-
dently stood in with the Zodiac. You remember what
Myra heard him saying : ' I felt just as you do once,
Issachar.' So no doubt they thought they could count
on him. And in inviting him to take his place amongst
them as their London member they must have told him
who the others were. But to their surprise and fury,
when it came to the point of actually joining the
Zodiac and helping to bring about the downfall of the
British Empire, his feeling for this country got the
better of him and he backed out. They'd probably
never realised he'd do that, or they wouldn't have com-
mitted themselves. That's what made them threaten
him with their vengeance."
"Lest he should give away the secret? "
"He'd hardly have dared to do that, knowing the
power of the Zodiac. But having been told the names
of the members he probably jotted them down after-
wards on this scrap of paper for-his own use, only taking
the precaution to put it away in a place of safety. For
though he'd refused to be one of them, he wanted to
remember who they were-possibly so as to keep a
watch on their movements."
" For what purpose ? "
" Oh, these supermen of finance are not above spying
on each other-there are hatreds and rivalries amongst
them just as amongst lesser men. Even the Zodiac are
probably not entirely at one, though they work together
for a common end."
" I see," said Kavanagh ; " and if your theory's
true, Greenworthy may have taken out the list some
time to remind himself who was operating in a given
part of the world, and that's how Myra came to get a
glimpse of it."
"Yes. Anyhow, we've got it now, and we'd better
be off quickly or we shall be suspected of burgling."
" Which is just about what we have been doing,"
laughed Kavanagh. "I think another douceur to
Albert is indicated."
But the footman, tired of waiting to show the visitors
out, had sunk into a peaceful slumber on a seat in the
hall, and the two men let themselves out of the house
without disturbing his dreams.
CHAPTER XIV
THE END OF THE QUEST
So the great secret was disclosed at last. The list

of the Zodiac, together with their spheres of
"government," lay spread out on Brandon's desk.
And neither he nor Kavanagh were much the wiser.
For the names were mostly those of men entirely
unknown to them.
Sagittarius was duly entered as Geldbeutel and
Capricornus as Oscar Franklin. Virgo was seen to be
Schneewald, Aries was Fuchsbein of the U.S.A., Leo
was Zimarkara, whilst Cancer, "governing" the
British Empire, was no other than Lord Farbenstein !
But what of Scorpio alias Fung Tsi Kun in the Far
East? Or Pisces alias Simon ben Amon in Africa?-
and so on. Above all, what of that other unknown
name, the thirteenth, with no Zodiacal sign, placed
at the top of the list, as if denoting the Sun and
Head of the whole system ?
" It's a bit disappointing," said Kavanagh, who had
hoped for a more sensational denouement.
"I don't know about that," answered Brandon.
" Of course it would have been interesting if all the
Twelve had turned out to be public figures we know all
about. But the very fact that these men have re-
mained wrapped in mystery adds to their importance.
Remember that the unvarying rule of world revolution
is that the real authors never show themselves. Look
back on all the great revolutions of the past hundred
283
and fifty years. Who before r789 had ever heard of
Robespierre ? Who before r9r7 of Lenin ? When
revolution comes, leaders seem to spring from the
ground ready armed like the dragons' teeth of Cadmus.
If this is so with the visible leaders, how much more so
with the secret powers behind them ? "
" Still, Oscar Franklin comes out enough into the
limelight."
"Yes," laughed Brandon, "as the supporter of con-
stitutional government and purveyor of elevating
films! But as you say, he does appear on the scene in
some capacity instead of keeping his actual existence
dark like Gemini, Libra, Aquarius, and the rest."
"Well, how do you account for that? "
" By the probability that Franklin is not one of the
controlling brains of the Zodiac. He never struck me
as up to Zodiac standard. A man who'd mix himself
up with occultism and join the Order of the Phrenix
could hardly be regarded as a superman of intellect.
Geldbeutel seemed to me in a very different class. He
' kept himself to himself,' so to speak. But even he
may not be one of the controlling brains."
" Then you think that all the Zodiac are not super-
men?"
" Not intellectually. If my theory's right, the
Zodiac is divided into the four trigons of Earth, Air,
Fire, and Water. And Capricomus of New York, alias
Franklin, is in the trigon of Earth. So are Taurus of
London and Virgo of Schneewald. Presumably a trigon
of bankers chosen more for their control of wealth and
business connections than for their intellects. Aries of
the U.S.A. and Leo of the Near East are, like Geld-
beutel, in the trigon of Fire. That is to say, they are
fighters, men of enormous wealth and at the same time
THE END OF THE QUEST 285
organising capacity-and known to the public as such.
But I suspect that the greatest brains of all, the men of
really stupendous intellect, are located in the trigon of
Air, that is to say, they are the thinkers directing move-
ments and mass propaganda all over the world. That
is why they remain wrapped in mystery, so that we
have never heard of them."
" And now that we've discovered who they are,"
said Kavanagh, " wnat can we do about it ? They still
remain only names to us. How can we find out more
about them, discover their methods of working in order
to be able to counter them? We can't go and live in
Thibet and in the Sahara and in the U.S.A. and the
other places they inhabit all in turn so as to keep them
under observation."
"No, and if we did go and live there, we should prob-
ably never get a chance of observing them. The mem-
bers of the Zodiac are not likely to be very approach-
able. Sagittarius certainly didn't seem very sociable at
Stolzenbach," remarked Brandon. "But, seriously,"
he went on, " I'm afraid we're about at the end of our
tether. This is the sort of thing that makes us realise
our limitations as independent investigators. We've
discovered who the individuals are at the back of the
conspiracy, but only men with an organisation at their
disposal can attempt to defeat it. That's why I
think the time has come to hand the matter over to the
Secret Service. They have their agents everywhere,
and within a week could probably procure a dossier of
every member of the Zodiac. I don't say such dossiers
would be exhaustive, but they would provide more
details than we could collect in a year. The Secret
Service may not be much use in solving world problems,
but give it a definite concFete line of investigation to
follow, and you'll find its way of working absolutely
amazing. When it comes to practical sleuth work I
take my hat off to it every time."
" Well, after all, we've got pretty definite evidence to
go on now-photographs of the correspondence we
intercepted at Bogazzo, the story of what happened in
the Temple and at the clinic, the actual document
signed between von Rauschenberg and the British
Socialists at Stolzenbach, notes of all you discovered at
the Cosmos Restaurant, and finally the inside story of
the Greenworthy tragedy and the list of the Zodiac. I
don't think even the most incredulous of officials can
maintain now that your theory lacks proof."
" It all depends on whom one gets in touch with. My
old colonel, 'Bronx,' would be the best man to go to.
Anyhow, I'll ring him up and try to get an interview as
soon as possible."
Colonel Brock-irreverently known as " Bronx " -
when approached on the telephone proved most cordial.
"Of course, my dear fellow, I'll be delighted to see you
again. Come in to-morrow at eleven o'clock and have a
glass of sherry."
Brandon had only ten minutes to wait next morning
before being ushered into the presence of the great man,
who lost no time in handing him a glass of the promised
Amontillado, at the same time offering him a cigar.
" Try one of these, really Ar. I was lucky in being able
to get a hundred of them at the sale of poor Gregson's
things last week. Bad luck his going broke, eh? Well,
now about yourself, Brandon, doing first-rate, I hear,
with the painting business-your pictures are all the
rage amongst the ladies, what ? "
" Yes," said Brandon. " I'm doing quite well in that
line. But it was really my other work I came to talk to
you about. You may remember I started on a line of
investigation of my own."
"Ah, of course. I was sorry you wouldn't come into
my Department. You always had a flair for that kind of
work. However, you know your own business best.
Now I come to think of it, my people tell me you've
given them very useful bits of information from time to
time."
" I'm glad of that, sir. But what I've come to tell
you to-day is more than a bit of information; it's
practically the result of my whole life's work since the
war."
"Really! And what's that? "
"Well, that at last I've discovered what's at the back
of the whole world movement."
"World movement? " Colonel Brock repeated with
a puzzled expression. "What do you mean precisely
by that ? "
" The revolutionary movement. I don't mean only
the political, but the occult side of the show."
"Occult? " Colonel Brock said, frowning. "My
dear fellow, I really can't follow you. I don't see what
occultism has to do with revolution."
" But it has everything to do with it. If you can
spare the time, sir, I'll tell you the whole story."
Colonel Brock looked at the clock. " I've got another
half-hour before my next appointment, so get on with
it, Brandon. Have another glass of sherry, no? And
are you really enjoying that cigar? By Jove, you
haven't got it lit! " Colonel Brock held out a match,
then, filling up his glass, he settled down to listen.
Beginning with Rosamund's story Brandon related
all the events of the past six months, his adventures on
the Continent and amongst the Communists in London,
ending up with the Greenworthy affair and the finding
of the list of the Zodiac.
Colonel Brock heard him out patiently ; only now
and then a slightly bored expression crossed his plump
features, and once or twice he glanced again at the
clock.
"My dear fellow," he said at last when Brandon had
finished, " all this may be very interesting, but I'm in-
clined to think you over-estimate the importance of
what you call ' occult influences.' It strikes me that
you've been working a bit too hard and got the whole
thing rather on your nerves. If I were you I'd go away
for a good rest and change-a Mediterranean cruise, for
example. They say this new Italian liner is remarkably
comfortable. I thought of taking a holiday in her
myself.''
" Thanks, but I don't feel in the least in need of a rest
and change. What I want is to get on with the busi-
ness in hand. And if you think I've exaggerated the
importance of the occult power, you'll surely admit the
danger this presents to the country." And taking the
pact signed between von Rau,schenberg and the Social-
ist M.P.s from his pocket Brandon- laid it on the table
before "Bronx." " There's nothing occult about that,
is there, sir ? "
Colonel Brock ran his eye over the document and
screwed up his mouth and nose as if sniffing a bad smell.
" A nasty bit of business," he said. " But what else
do you expect of those fellows ? However, as you see
it all depends on their getting into office again, and as
they may never get into office again we really needn't
take them too seriously. At any rate, the present
National Government is good for another year or so,
I'm told.''
" Et apres cela le deluge ! " Brandon said with a
mirthless hoot. " But meanwhile I don't see why
they shouldn't be proceeded against for high treason."
"Oh, Parbury would never agree to that You
know the sort of man he is-wouldn't do anything to
antagonise the Labour Party. I think he's wrong
there, but what can one do? He certainly has the
Conservative electorate behind him. What he says
goes."
"Yes, I suppose it does," said Brandon, rising.
" Then you think there's nothing to be done, sir ? "
" I don't see anything at present-not just at pre-
sent, but I'll think it over. Meanwhile, don't forget
about that Mediterranean cruise-you're looking a bit
overstrained, my dear fellow." And with a hearty
handshake he took leave of Brandon.
So this was all the world plot meant to the official
mind. The Secret Service, Brandon knew from
experience, comprised many young men of brilliant in-
tellect and stirling honesty, men he could trust up to
the hilt, but they occupied subordinate positions. It
was only through their Chiefs that the wheels of the
Secret Service activity could be set in motion, and the
Chiefs knew little of the secrets contained in the files of
their departments, which no doubt would corroborate
the evidence he himself had been al;>leto collect.
Sunk in gloom Brandon made his way to Kavanagh's
flat, where the prospective candidate for South Mer-
shire was to be found dictating correspondence to his
secretary.
"It's no go," he said, sinking into a chair by the fire,
and he related the events of the morning.
"Amazing, isn't it ? "said Kavanagh when Brandon
had finished. " Will nothing open the eyes of these
19
people to the danger threatening the country ? "
" Nothing but the crash itself," said Brandon, " and
when that comes it will be too late."
" It seems to me," said Rosamund slowly, " that in
trying to convince the official mind it's no good dealing
in abstractions. And anything like occult powers are
abstractions to them. Not one of them would believe
the story I told you and Terence-they'd only think I
was mad and suffering from delusions. But talk to
them of guns or bomb plots and they'll take you
seriously. They can't see that there are more destruc-
tive forces in the world than phosgene or T.N.T."
" I think Rosamund's right," said Kavanagh. " I
don't believe it is any use talking to them of what's
behind the world movement. The story of the Zodiac,
for example, only appears to them fantastic. How-
ever, in the pact signed with von Rauschenberg we've
something tangible. It seems to me that it would be
better to bank on that and leave the rest out of the
question for the moment."
"Yes," said Brandon," but that's more a matter for
statesmen to deal with. Bagnall and Co. have the
complete confidence of the Tories· at present; if we
could shake that we should have accomplished some-
thing. There's every prospect of another General
Election before long, with the Tories as usual avoiding
' personalities ' so as to enable the Socialists to get back
to office, but even the Tories could hardly say that the
publication of a document such as this went beyond the
bounds of fair play. Guy Fawkes's gunpowder plot
was a mild practical joke compared to the coup Bagnall
and his friends propose to bring off."
" Why don't you go to the Prime Minister yourself,
Terence?" said Rosamund. "He'd be simply bound
to sit up and take notice of a thing like this."

" I believe that would be the best plan," said
Kavanagh. " Parbury was quite friendly down at
Lingford in the summer-wished me well, and said he
hoped I'd drop in to Mrs. Parbury's 'At Homes' at
Number Ten sometimes, which I dutifully did. Par-
bury was still amiable on these occasions, although no
doubt he'd been warned against me as a Diehard. At
any rate, his manner was quite different to Blo:xham's."
"Oh, Parbury's the most good-natured fellow in the
world," said Brandon. " A man whose motto is ' any-
thing for a quiet life ' could hardly be otherwise.
Tackle him by all means, Terence. Whether he'll do
anything is another question."
So it was finally decided that Kavanagh should write
to the Prime Minister telling him he wished to speak to
him on a matter of the highest national importance.
The request met with a cordial reply from Mr.
Parbury's secretary, and at the appointed hour Kava-
nagh, armed with the fateful do.cument-which
Brandon had been careful to photograph-presented
himself at IO Downing Street.
" Good morning, Major Kavanagh," the arbiter of
the nation's destinies said in a friendly tone. "Glad to
see you looking so well. What a pleasant time we had
that week-end last June I A lovely bit of country that.
I've always been so attached to the Weald of Sussex.
If only one could throw off the cares of State and settle
down there in peace to sheep-farming."
" I don't know that I've ever been particularly drawn
to sheep," answered Kavanagh. "They're rather
unresponsive animals, aren't they ? "
" Not when you know them, not when you know
them," Mr. Parbury said heartily. " I had an old ram
now--" and he went off into extensive ovme
rem1mscences.
Kavanagh listened with well-concealed impatience.
"Well, sir," he said at last when Parbury left him an
opportunity to speak. " I really came to see you
about a matter of some importance."
"Ah, yes, to be sure," the Prime Minister replied,
glancing at Kavanagh's letter that lay before him on
the table. " Tell me all about it," he added with a
pleasant smile, lighting his pipe.
"In view of the present situation," Kavanagh
began, choosing his words very carefully, " it seemed to
me advisable that certain facts should be brought to
your notice. I understand that a General Election in
the near future is not improbable."
"It is by no means impossible," Parbury agreed.
" And that it is equally not impossible," continued
Kavanagh, "that the Socialist Party might this time
be returned with a majority."
" I think not," said Parbury, but his voice conveyed
no conviction. " Bloxham at the Central Office tells
me we are not likely to lose much ground. Reports
from the provinces are on the whole quite reassuring."
" Still, considering the violence of the present leader
of the so-called Labour Party, Hanley, you will agree
that the mere possibility of their taking over the reins
of power is alarming ? "
" I don't know about that, Major Kavanagh.
Hanley is, as you say, at present somewhat of an
extremist, but office has a remarkably sobering effect
on men of his stamp. Besides, if he went too far there
would always be the more moderate men of his Party
to keep him in check. Such men as Bagnall, for
example, could be safely relied on not to support any
really extreme measures."
" That is precisely what I wanted to put before you,
Mr. Parbury. If you are depending on Bagnall and his
friends to maintain the constitution of this country, I
am afraid you are mistaken."
For the first time a shade of annoyance crossed the
Prime Minister's brow. He was not accustomed to be
told he was mistaken by Conservative back-benchers,
let alone a mere aspirant to those lowly seats. But
he contented himself with saying good-humouredly:
"Come, come, Kavanagh, you are allowing yourself
to be carried away by your prejudices. Bagnall,
Pudsey, and the others of their kind are excellent
fellows at bottom ; they have the interests of the
Empire just as much at heart as you or I. When it
came to the point they would never agree to anything
unconstitutional."
"What would you say then," said Kavanagh, lean-
ing forward and looking Parbury in the eye, " if I could
prove to you that they are prepared to bring about the
downfall of the British Empire ? "
"My dear fellow, you certainly could not prove that
to me," Parbury answered, with a doubting smile.
"Then will you read this? " Kavanagh said, taking
the Rauschenberg pact out of his pocket and laying it
before the Prime Minister.
Mr. Parbury ran his eyes over it with a puzzled ex-
pression. "Bagnall-Pudsey-Renton-and signed
by von Rauschenberg," he repeated, reading out the
signatures.
"Yes," said Kavanagh. "A pact between these
three Socialist members and the great Pan-German
General, to form an Anglo-Soviet alliance, to destroy
the Constitution of this country, abolish the Monarchy,
and break up the British Empire. What more do you
want as evidence of high treason ? "
Mr. Parbury pushed the paper away meditatively.
He had ceased to smile, but his face betrayed neither
alarm nor indignation.
" High treason is a strong word," he said slowly, " a
somewhat obsolete word, if you don't mind my saying
so. We are not living in the Elizabethan era. I don't
mean to minimise the seriousness of the thing, you
understand ; it is serious, quite serious. But it would
be possible to exaggerate its importance. The fulfil-
ment of this pact," and he tapped the paper, " depends,
you see, on the Labour Party getting into office again
after the next General Election, and, as I said just now,
they are unlikely to be returned with a majority. If
they are, well, wild promises made when in Opposition
are not likely to be fulfilled by men who have assumed
the responsibility of government."
"But this is not a case of wild promises," Kavanagh
interposed, " it is a case of a definite treasonable pact,
signed, sealed and delivered--"
Mr. Parbury put up his hand. " I know all that, my
dear Kavanagh, but even signed p'acts are not always
adhered to."
" But why risk the possibility of its being carried
out ? " said Kavanagh uncontrollably; "now that you
know what these men's commitments are, why allow
them ever to take office ? Why not impeach them now
before Parliament, before the whole country, and let
the nation understand their real character? "
"I hardly think that would serve any useful pur-
pose. We do not wish to appear vindictive. And at
any rate, before taking action I should like to submit
this document to my expert advisers. I have at first
to be assured that it is genuine."
" But I took it myself out of Bagnall's pocket I
How could it be a forgery? " And Kavanagh briefly
related the incident of the motor-car accident at
Stolzenbach.
" I can't help being sorry you did that, Kavanagh.
It was hardly playing the game."
" But this isn't a game, it's war, deadly warfare
against the Monarchy and the British Empire. Surely
any means are justified to defeat such a plot? "
" Well, well, that's a matter of opinion. Personally
I consider that it wasn't cricket. However, the thing
is done. I will ask you now to leave the document
with me."
Kavanagh demurred. "I'd rather not let it out of
my hands, sir. You see, if anything happened to it the
whole case would fall to the ground."
" You need have no fear for its safety. It is abso-
lutely necessary I should have it to lay before the
Cabinet when it meets on Tuesday."
This seemed unanswerable. The Prime Minister
could not be expected to deal with the matter alone,
and he evidently judged it to be of considerable
importance after all, since he proposed to discuss it at
a Cabinet meeting. And as Kavanagh could hardly
expect to be present on such an occasion, there was
nothing for it but to leave the document in the Prime
Minister's hands.
"May I ask you, sir," he said, getting up to go, "if
you will see me again after the Cabinet meeting, and if
possible let me have the document back then? "
"That depends, that depends. I will see you how-
ever on Wednesday, if you call at the same hour. I
can then let you know what has taken place."
And with a rather less cordial handshake than he had
given Kavanagh on entering, the Prime Minister closed
the interview.
Punctually at the appointed hour on Wednesday,

Kavanagh presented himself again at Downing Street.
Mr. Parbury was seated at his table with a distinctly
harassed expression on his usually placid countenance.
"Good morning, Major Kavanagh. I am sorry that
I have no news for you so far. We were unable to
discuss the matter of your document at the Cabinet
meeting yesterday. The fact is, that by some unfor-
tunate oversight it was not returned to me in time by
the expert adviser to whom I had submitted it. In
fact, I have not yet received it back from the hands in
which it has been placed."
" Whose hands ? " asked Kavanagh, taken aback.
"Well, I can hardly tell you that," said the Prime
Minister, beginning to fidget nervously with a paper
knife. "We have, you understand, certain advisers
whom we are accustomed to consult on matters of
importance, especially those relating to :international
affairs. I think you can safely rely on my judgment
in this question."
"But:--but--" stammered Kavanagh, becoming
more and more alarmed, " supposing the document had
got into the hands of-of-well, Oscar Franklin, for
example?"
"It is curious you should say that. As it happens-
I think I may tell you this-it was Mr. Oscar Franklin I
consulted on this occasion."
"Good God!" Kavanagh cried frantically, starting
out of his chair and clasping his head with his hands.
"Good God! You gave the document to Oscar
Franklin ! " And he began to pace the room like one
demented.
" Calm yourself, Kavanagh," the Prime Minister said,
looking at him with surprised annoyance. " There is
nothing to excite yourself about in this way. Mr.
Oscar Franklin, as you should know, is one of our most
powerful supporters. He has regularly contributed
substantial sums to the funds of the Party. And the
position he occupies in the financial world makes him a
most valuable authority on international questions.
No one is more qualified to pronounce a judgment on a
delicate question such as the document you handed me,
both as regards its authenticity and the interpretation
that must be placed on it. Mr. Franklin is a man of
the highest integrity."
" Oscar Franklin a man of the highest integrity !
Would you like me to tell you what I know about the
man? " Kavanagh said uncontrollably, wondering
where he should begin if he were called on to relate the
history of "Capricomus." Should he say he was a
member of the Zodiac? No, that would mean nothing
to the ingenuous Mr. Parbury, and even if the facts
about the Zodiac were explained to him he would
simply refuse to believe them. What then about his
role in the Clinic Nirvana, as the would-be murderer
of Rosamund, or as the virtual murderer of Green-
worthy and his daughter? No, that also would
appear fantastic ; truth too often is so much stranger
than fiction. So suiting himself to the mentality of
his audience of one, Kavanagh said briefly:
" I can tell you that Oscar Franklin is one of the
most dangerous men in the world ; he is in the very
hub of the Bolshevik conspiracy."
" Come, come, come, Major Kavanagh, you have
allowed your imagination to run away with you.
What you say is absurd. Franklin is one of the most
resolute opponents of Bolshevism and, as I have
already told you, a strong supporter of the Conservative
cause. As to his failure to return the document in
time for the Cabinet meeting, it was of course most
unfortunate, but you will understand that in the case
of a man as busy as Franklin a matter of this kind
might escape his attention and the document be
momentarily mislaid."
" Ah, then you know it has been mislaid ? "
"Yes, a telephone message was sent-to him just before
the Cabinet meeting requesting him to return it without
delay, but his secretary replied that he was unfortun-
ately not able at the moment to lay his hand on it. He
added, however, that a search would be made and the
paper returned to me without fail."
Kavanagh listened, stunned. For a moment he had
lost the power of speech. He knew the difficulty of
securing interviews with official personages where any
awkward situation was involved, he knew that once the
door had closed behind him he might never again
succeed in penetrating into Mr. Parbury's sanctum.
So realising that this was probably his last chance, he
pulled himself together and, almost forgetting whom he
was addressing, he said vehemently :
"Mr. Parbury, you must demand the return of the
document immediately. For once in your life show
some energy ! Ring up Franklin and insist on its
return this very moment."
Too surprised, or perhaps too hypnotised by
Kavanagh's authoritative tone, to resist, Mr. Parbury
summoned his secretary and requested to be put on to
Mr. Oscar Franklin.
A moment later the bell rang. Mr. Parbury held the
receiver to his ear, listened silently, then answering :
"I see; I thank you," replaced the receiver and turned
towards Kavanagh:
"I am sorry, extremely sorry that I am unable to
meet your request. Mr. Oscar Franklin sailed for
America in the Caronia this morning."
Kavanagh never knew how he got out of Downing

Street that day. Afterwards he had only a confused
memory of staring wildly at Mr. Parbury, uttering
a few incoherent phrases accompanied by violent
gestures, and staggering to the door. He was never
quite sure that he had not taken that imperturbable
figure at the desk by the shoulders and shaken it with
all his might. He knew that he felt inclined to do so,
but he hoped he had refrained. For a Conservative
candidate to shake the Prime Minister would certainly
be without precedent.
Brandonlistened horror-struck to the story Kavanagh
had to relate when he reached his friend's studio.
" It's a ghastly business," he said. " Of course we
must make up our minds to the original document
having been done away with. Still, we have mercifully
got the photographs. Some use might be made of
them."
" Not with the politicians. They're all too terrified
of Franklin to take any steps that would lead to an
exposure of the part he has played in the matter.
Parbury, I could see, was genuinely upset about it ; he
evidently had complete confidence in the man. So
they all have. It would take more than this to shake
it."
" Then you absolve Parbury of all complicity ? "
" Absolutely. I believe he still thinks it was an
oversight of Franklin's."
" But when he finds that the document has dis-
appeared for good? "
"By the time that becomes evident, Parbury will
have forgotten all about it."
Kavanagh began to pace the room feverishly, then
coming to a sudden stop, he said :
" Look here, Jimmy, there's only one thing for us
now."
" And that is-- ?"
" The Press."
And resuming his walk about the room, Kavanagh
went on vehemently: "I'll go to every newspaper in
London with the story. We've got the photograph of
the document and the snapshot of the party at Schloss
Stolzenbach. What more can they want ? They
made enough of the Zinoviev letter, which, as you've
often said, was child's play compared to the Rauschen-
berg pact. Why shouldn't they feature this ? "
" Try it by all means, my dear fellow. But you
forget that the Zinoviev letter didn't involve a single
member of the Zodiac. It only involved the Bol-
shevist fa<;ade at which the public are allowed to gaze
to their hearts' content. This is a very different matter.
However, go ahead, and more power to your elbow-
you'll need it to get into some of these newspaper
offices."
So Kavanagh started on his quest. Beginning with

the most " moderate " of the Constitutional dailies, he
went from door to door asking to see the editor. In
two cases the editor was said to be engaged; in four,
however, he succeeded in gaining admittance to the
editorial sanctum, and met with a cordial reception.

The papers were just now hard up for news. The
Prince of Wales had happily recovered from the attack
of pneumonia that had kept the country on tenter-
hooks all the previous week. The Greenworthy
tragedy, satisfactorily ascribed to Sir Paul's financial
anxieties, had proved less than a nine days' wonder.
If Major Kavanagh had anything of a really sensa-
tional nature to communicate he was more than
welcome.
Kavanagh explained that what he had to relate was
sensational to the highest degree, involving as it did
the whole fate of the British Empire.
The editors, each in turn, scenting a scoop, listened
attentively, but each ended by shaking his head and
saying firmly:
" I'm much obliged to you for bringing me this
story. It's interesting of course-and most extra-
ordinary. But I'm afraid we can't touch it."
One alone, Dartford, the editor of the London Argus,
an ardently patriotic paper, took a bolder line.
"This is stupendous, Major Kavanagh. Of course
it must be published. I quite understand, though,
papers refusing it. There's considerable risk attaching
to it. You see, it doesn't only involve these Labour
men, but also Oscar Franklin over the disappearance
of the original document. And the power he and his
allies exercise over the Press is formidable-in the
matter of advertisements, you understand. Of course
a paper can't live without advertisements.
"Still," he went on cheerfully, "in a case of this
importance the London Argus would be prepared to
take the risk. It may affect us financially, but what's
going to become of the country if this plot comes off ?
That's the first consideration. I'll take the matter up
at once with Mr. Parbury, and if he confirms your
evidence-as I conclude he will-we'll come Ol!t with
the whole thing, giving it a leader as well. It will be
a bombshell to the country. Thank you again for
coming to me. You may have saved the country."
Kavanagh returned triumphantly to Brandon.
" If Dartford sticks to his guns," said Brandon, "the
thing is done."
It was hard to control their impatience until the
London Argus arrived two days later-ah! there was
the promised leader and on the opposite page the
incriminating document reproduced and featured, to-
gether with the snapshot of the group at Stolzenbach.
Kavanagh breathed a sigh of relief. There could be
no question that the country would be stirred to its
depths.
Early in the afternoon he strolled round to his club
in Piccadilly and found some of the members languidly
discussing the new political sensation. A few of the
older "Die-Hards" were indignant, declaring that the
three Labour members should be impeached for high
treason. But in general it was agreed that the London
Argus, always prone to take an "extreme" view, had
made too much of the affair.
" After all, what have Bagnall and his friends done ?
Signed a pact with von Rauschenberg? Well, he
showed himself a very gallant foe during the War.
And he's been received over here by plenty of important
people since."
"And if they did accept foreign money, it was only
on behalf of their Party-to pay for Election expenses.
No great harm in that ! "
" Good Lord ! " expostulated a ninety-year-old
General in the corner. " But they were plotting the
overthrow of the Monarchy and the break-up of the
British Empire ! "
" Oh, well, they think that would be for the good of
the world! We don't agree with them, of course; still,
everyone has a right to his own opinions. And the
Socialists have always professed Republican senti-
ments. As to the Empire, all Empires have passed
away in time. We can't expect ours to last for ever."
And so on.
By the end of a week it was plain that what society
referred to as the London Argus's "latest stunt" had
fallen completely flat. A writ for libel had been issued
against the paper, but the case was never set down for
trial. Why remind the public of what it had now for-
gotten? The Christmas holidays provided pleasanter
food for thought.
"I'm just wondering," Brandon said to Kavanagh
when they finally realised the situation ; " I'm just
wondering whether the whole thing is a tragedy or a
roaring farce. We've gone through fire and flood to
get all this information on the world plot, and now we
can do nothing with it."
"No," said Kavanagh, '-' we can do nothing with it.
Absolutely nothing."
CHAPTER XV
THE DEBACLE
EARLY in the following year Lady Dare died of in-

fluenza, and Rosamund being left alone, Kavanagh·
urged that they should be married without further
delay. After a quiet wedding, with only a few friends
present in the church and a brief honeymoon in
Portugal, they settled down in Kavanagh's rooms in
Half Moon Street and got to work again.
For Terence Kavanagh was not the man to sit down
long under defeat. His resolve to stand for Parliament
remained unshaken, the more so since the second
National Government had failed and a General
Election was to be held on the issue of Conservatism
versus Socialism-unhappily with the same leaders at
the head of the Conservative Party.
So, with Rosamund as his companion in arms,
Kavanagh went down to South Mershire and started on
a vigorous campaign against his Socialist opponent.
He understood the working-class mind well enough to
realise that it has no use for the compromises and
concessions dear to the heart of the Intelligentsia, and
his habit of hard hitting won him support on all sides.
Even the people who did not agree with him respected
his courage and warmed involuntarily to the fire of
enthusiasm that flashed out in his speeches, whilst
Rosamund's charm and reasoned arguments ensured
her a sympathetic hearing.
In spite of his secret discouragement at the inertia of
3o4
THE DEBACLE
his Party and the lack of support given him by its
Central Office, Kavanagh fought on undismayed. He
w.as determined that if possible there should be at least
one man at Westminster who knew the truth and would
have the right to tell it to the country.
But his successes evidently did not enhance his
popularity in official circles. Apart from his own
particular friends, he found a gulf widening around him,
and the other members, when he dropped in at the
Carlton Club ; men who would formerly come up with
a hearty, "Hullo! old chap!" or settle down beside
him for a talk, now nodded coldly or moved away if he
sat down near them.
" I can't think what's the matter with these fellows,"
he said one day to General Brighorn, whom he had
grown rather to like in spite of his crossword complex.
There was something wholesome, frank, and cheery
about him that gave one the feeling of sitting over an
open fire and was pleasant if one happened to be feeling
the draught. Besides, Brighorn was a man everybody
talked to and who knew what was going on.
" I feel they're not particularly friendly just now,"
Kavanagh went on, throwing out a feeler.
"Well, as you've noticed that--" the General
began. Then clearing his throat he added : " I fancy
it's gone round that you're a bit extreme, Kavanagh.
Fellows don't like that, you know. They've heard
of course about your electioneering campaign in
the Midlands and they feel you're rather an
alarmist."
"An alarmist I But if they knew what I know,"
said Kavanagh, "they'd jolly well realise that there's
something to be alarmed about." Would it be possible
to confide in Brighorn and get him to help in opening
20
the eyes of members ? But no, he was too comfortable
to wish to make himself unpopular.
" Oh yes, my dear fellow," the General was saying,
" of course you and I know the dangers of the Bol-
shevist menace. I've spoken out on it loud enough
myself. But when it comes to attacking the Labour
Party it's different."
" Is it-when we know what some of them have been
plotting abroad? Besides, look at what they say
themselves they'll do if they get into power I Nation-
alise the land, the banks, transport, electricity, the big
industries of the country as a beginning."
" Oh, my dear fellow," interrupted the General with
a laugh, " they won't really do that. They may say
they will, but when it comes to the point they'll see it's
impracticable."
At this moment, however, the member for Mudford
claimed the General's attention, and he turned away
with evident relief to discuss the prospects of the
Cambridgeshire.
" Are all these people mad, or am I ? " Kavanagh
said to Brandon that evening as they sat over whiskies
and sodas in his rooms. " They make one feel at times
that hunting, racing, and tips on the Stock Exchange
really are the only things that matter, and that one
must be a crank to bother about trifles like the fate of
the Empire."
"Well, they'll wake up when their world comes to an
end-that's to say when the hunting's stopped and
racing is nationalised. That's the only thing that'll get
under their skins." ·
"And by that time it'll be too late. But it's no
good warning them. You might as well try to rouse
the sleepers in an opium den. Besides, they're perfectly
THE DEBACLE 307
convinced of getting in again with a thumping ma-
jority."
As the fateful date approached a certain liveliness
sprang up at the Carlton Club and other haunts of the
Party. For a fortnight before the day fixed for the
polls, sport ceased to be the main topic of conversation,
and the chances of candidates were discussed with
almost the same fervour as the chances of horses
hitherto. Now that the Election campaign had begun
the Labour Party became fair game for attack ;
" personalities " had of course to be excluded, hence
no mention of the Rauschenberg pact could be made,
but the published programme of the Party met with
eloquent denunciations. The public, however, too long
lulled to slumber, refused to be alarmed and the result
of the General Election was a crushing defeat for the
Conservatives. The former Prime Minister himself,
Mr. Nelson Parbury, lost his seat, and the Socialist
Party under George Hanley, the leader of the Left
Wing, came in with an overwhelming majority.
But Terence Kavanagh, to his astonishment, found
himself member for South Mershire and one of the
attenuated Conservative Opposition in the House of
Commons.
After this events moved rapidly. The House of
Lords was immediately abolished, only a handful of
members going out into the Conservative lobby in pro-
test. The rest, fearing to appear "reactionary," voted
with the Socialists.
The Government knew better than to make the
mistake of putting forward measures of internal policy
that were likely to meet with hostility not only from the
Opposition benches but from the country at large.
Instead they proceeded to pass a single act, called the
Emergency Powers Act, giving unlimited powers to the
Executive to be promulgated by Orders in Council.
England thus came to be governed much as Germany
was governed by Hitler after the drastic change in the
Constitution which empowered him to issue decrees
prepared by the Chancellor in Cabinet. Only in
England this virtual dictatorship, instead of being
in the hands of an ardent national patriot, was in
those of a Socialist bureaucracy allied with the most
implacable enemies of the country.
Their first act was to conclude an alliance between
Great Britain and the Soviet Government. Their
next was to abolish aJl titles. For the moment it was
deemed advisable not to touch the Monarchy. The
people so far would not stand it.
Then came the nationalisation of the banks, placing
all national finance and business under the control of
the Zodiac and their nominees.
Nationalisation of the land, then of mines, railways,
and transport followed. Then the great industries of
the country were taken over one by one and placed
under " the State."
In vain the " possessing classes " protested ;
their estates confiscated, their dividends cut off at the
source by the State banks and transferred to the
Exchequer, they were left without the means to make
their voices heard. The former captain of industry
now counted for less than the man who swept out his
nationalised workshop.
In this way a perfectly bloodless revolution was
accomplished.
Meanwhile unemployment had reached gigantic
proportions. An attempt had been made to meet it by
increased doles and by reducing hours of labour to four
THE DEBACLE
and finally to two a day. But owing to the slump in
industry there was still not enough work to go round.
The "people," however, were kept happy by the
decrees on " Free Transport " and " Free Entertain-
ment," enabling the "workers "-and the" workers"
only-to be carried free by bus, tram or tube to free
cinemas, theatres, football matches and greyhound
races, at which, owing to the amount of leisure at their
disposal, employed and unemployed alike were able to
spend most of the day. The golf courses having also
been nationalised, were crowded from morning till
night, not only with players; and picnic parties on the
greens, scattering paper bags and empty salmon tins
around them, made putting more a game of chance than
of skill. In London the traffic problem had become
acute, for the whole proletariat being on the move at
once, the streets were almost impassable and blocks
lasted for half an hour at a time.
These glorious jaunts had the desired effect, and
prevented any popular agitation against the passing of
the Government's final Bill, which was duly placed on
the table of the House.
The debate had begun with a discussion on the
situation in India, where revolt was reported to be
breaking out in all directions. The small British
forces still remaining faithful to the Viceroy-now only
a figurehead, deprived of all real authority-had
declared that they found service impossible and their
numbers unequal to dealing with revolt on so vast a
scale.
Kavanagh then rose to ask whether the Government
was prepared at once to reinforce the troops in India
and restore order before it was too late.
"The answer was in the negative."
The late Secretary of State for the Colonies under the
Conservative Government then asked whether it was
true that cables had been received from Australia and
New Zealand offering help for the required reinforce-
ment. His Socialist successor in office replied that the
cables referred to had been received, but the Govern-
ment did not propose to avail themselves of the help
offered.
" Why ? Why ?" asked a number of Conservative
members.
This was the signal for the Prime Minister, George
Hanley, to hurl his bombshell into the Opposition
benches. With convulsed features and the light of
fanaticism gleaming in his eyes, he embarked on a
tirade against the iniquities of " Imperialism-the
British Raj more ruthless than any Juggernaut,
crushing the life out of the Indian people and battening
on their life-blood." Then passing on to the proffered
help from the Dominions, he cried:
"What are Australia and New Zealand but depend-
encies of that same brutal autocracy ? Let them be
free as India must be free, as Ireland must be free, free
to work out their own destinies under guidance of the
workers of each country. Away with colonies, away
with the shibboleth of Dominion status ! Let us
declare that the British Empire is wound up and has
ceased to exist ! "
Frantic applause from the Government benches
greeted this speech, to which the Conservatives listened
in consternation, finally breaking out into a chorus of
protest.
But it was too late.
The motion put to the House three days later met
with whole-hearted support from the Socialist members,
THE DEBACLE 3II
who, at the division, streamed out to a man into the
Government lobby.
The Bill was passed by a large majority amidst a
pandemonium in which Conservative groans were
drowned by the deafening cheers of their opponents.
The British Empire had ceased to exist.
Kavanagh, walking back to Half Moon Street as in a

dream that evening, noted the posters at the street
corners announcing the usual startling news : " Famous
film star divorced," "Former Baronet at Bow Street."
. . . Buying a paper he scanned the column headings.
No, there was nothing yet about the debate. He
turned to the stop press. Ah I there it was I Beneath
the cricket scores and latest racing news, two lines of
small print: "Replying to Major Kavanagh this
afternoon the Prime Minister proposed the complete
independence of India and the Dominions."
" So passes the British Empire I " Kavanagh said
aloud, crushing the paper into a ball and hurling it into
the gutter.
Reaching the rooms which his salary as a legislator
still allowed him to retain, Kavanagh found Rosamund
busy with the scanty evening meal which, now that
domestic service had been abolished, they were wont
to prepare for themselves. In a few brief sentences he
told her what had occurred.
"So that's the end I" Rosamund said blankly.
'' Oh, Terence, to think that everything might have
been saved if only they'd have listened to you and
Jimmy I"
"Yes. It's ghastly. But there's no good in going
over the past. We've got to face the future."
"And the only way to do that is to live by the day
and hour," Rosamund said practically. "If only the
milkman would come I'd make the coffee."
Under Socialism the State dairyman bringing round
the blue liquid that did duty for milk was liable to
arrive at any odd hour of the day or night-it all
depended on when supplies arrived from the country.
" There's a ring at the bell, perhaps that's the milk-
man," said Kavanagh, rising and going to the door.
" Hullo, it's Jimmy I Come in, old chap."
Brandon, who was now earning a precarious liveli-
hood as a State cinema decorator, entered glumly.
" You've heard then ? " asked Kavanagh.
Brandon nodded. The news from West minster had
reached him on his way home from work. Sitting down
he took out his pipe and filled it with the rank weed
supplied by the State Tobacco Company.
" Let us eat and drink for to-morrow we die ! "
Kavanagh said after a long silence, with a heavy
attempt at cheerfulness. " Share our orgy of macaroni
and coffee substitute. We're only waiting for the
milkman, to begin."
"Talking of macaroni," Brandon answered, pulling
a letter out of his pocket, " reminds me that this
arrived to-day from Italy. You'd heard Countess
Zapraksy died suddenly the other day? "
" Yes. I don't think she ever got over the shock of
all that happened at Bogazzo. It must have been a
terrible. disillusionment to her."
"Well, the strange thing is, that she's left you and
me heirs to her property-the Villa Pax Mundi and
quite a lot of money. This letter is from her lawyers.
What are we to do about it ? Go over and claim it ? "
" Yes. But we shouldn't be allowed to bring money
over here and we can't settle at Bogazzo."
THE DEBACLE
"No. We're not rats to desert the sinking ship."
"Just so. But what about getting Rosamund out of
the country ? "
"Thanks. I'm not going to be got out," Rosa-
mund said firmly. " I'll stick it as long as you both
do. But there's no reason why we shouldn't all go to
Bogazzo for a breather now and then, is there ? Hullo,
I believe that really is the milkman this time."
For a rattle of cans had sounded outside. Going to
the door Kavanagh took their meagre ration of milk
from the man's hand and was surprised to hear him
say:
" You don't remember me, Major Kavanagh ! "
Where had he heard that voice before ? Looking for
the first time at the milkman's face, which also seemed
familiar, he answered:
"Not for the moment-and yet-and yet-is it
possible that you are Mr. Parbury? "
Mr. Parbury, shabby and haggard with a stubbly
growth around his chin !
"Is it really you? " Kavanagh repeated in astonish-
ment.
"Yes, Nelson Parbury. Once Prime Minister of
England. We little thought we should live to see this
day."
It was almost more than Kavanagh could do not to
answer: "My good Parbury, I knew it, but you would
not believe me I" But on the principle of never saying
" I told you so ! " he only answered :
" Well, Mr. Parbury, I'm sorry to see you've come
to this."
"Oh, I'm lucky to have a job at all," Mr. Parbury
answered, with well-assumed cheerfulness; "it's the
news I've just heard from the House that's upset me.
Is it really true that they've wound up the Empire ? "
" Yes, only too true. You'll see it in the papers to-
morrow.''
Mr. Parbury took out a large grey pocket hand-
kerchief and wiped his forehead.
" The poor old Empire I " he muttered, " the poor
old Empire I To think it's gone I "
Shaking his head mournfully, he picked up his milk
cans and went on with his rounds.
By the morning the Press had realised that some-
thing quite sensational had happened in Westminster.
The Test Match was actually relegated to the fourth
column, whilst leading articles and glaring headlines
dealt with last night's debate. The organ of the
Socialist Party of course was jubilant, but the con-
stitutional Press in general expressed disapprobation,
rising in one or two cases to almost violent protesta-
tions-this thing must not be, the country would not
stand it, etc.
But the principal daily mouthpiece of the Con-
servative Central Office set the example of sanity,
warning the country not to give way to hysteria.
" The present situation," it wrote, "must be faced
with calmness. Whatever sentimental regrets may be
entertained at the passing of so time-honoured an
institution as the British Empire, it behoves us to take
a larger view than that of narrow nationalism, and to
consider the welfare of the world at large. Seen from
this angle the action of the Government last night was
statesmanlike and far-sighted, a gesture which cannot
fail to arouse admiration in every corner of the earth.
Britain has shown her strength by surrendering those
advantages won in the past by force and by recognising
that with the advance of civilisation the word ' Im-
THE DEBACLE
perialism' must be expunged from our vocabulary,"
etc., etc.
At Geneva the great news was received with accla-
mations, and the League of Nations,at a special meeting
convened for the occasion, passed a unanimous resolu-
tion that : " The abolition of the British Empire marks
the passing of Imperialism and provides the surest
guarantee for the peace of the world." In consequence
" the Disarmament Con£erence which has sat for ten
years can now be disbanded."
Although the Empire was gone the Government still

dared not touch the Monarchy, and contented itself
with depriving it of all authority. The Royal Family
became virtually prisoners in the Palace, as it had
been in France after 1789.
It was further decided that the Soviet system
should not be adopted as it was unsuited to the British
people, whoseindividualistic charactermight make them
less docile members of soviets (or councils) than the
Russian workers. The farce of pretending to admit
them to the government of the country would be
quickly seen through here. Legislation was therefore
carried out by the host of officials from East and
Central Europe who had swarmed into the country and
been placed in key positions in every sphere of dis-
tribution.
Up till this moment the orgy of free amusements and
unlimited food supplies by the State from the stocks
laid in by the previous Government had kept the
workers quiet. But now, owing to the dislocation of
industry and the decline of national credit, supplies
began to fail. Rates and taxes having been abolished
since there was no one left to pay them, the dole had to
be done away with, and the population kept alive on
rations that grew every week more meagre. An under-
current of discontent now arose, and the sight of their
new masters driving through the streets in luxurious
motors with complacent smiles on their Oriental
features was gradually rousing the populace to frenzy.
All pretence of Parliamentary Government was
finally abandoned, for power had now passed from the
hands of legislators into those of the officials who,
having all the means of life under their control, were
able to hold undisputed sway. The House of Com-
mons was now closed down, and not only the Con-
servative but the Labour Party was "liquidated."
In order to prevent any attempt on the part of the
dismissed members to organise an Opposition outside
Government circles, all those who had sat as Con-
servatives were banished, together with any of their
supporters who were held to be dangerous enemies of
the Socialist regime. On the list of exiles was found
the name of James Brandon.
Forced therefore to leave the country, Brandon,
together with Kavanagh and Rosamund, found a
refuge in the Villa Pax Mundi, where, amidst sunshine
and vineyards, they watched sadly from afar the final
eclipse of the British Empire.
Others of their fellow-countrymen, less fortunate,
wandered poverty-stricken about the world ; there was
no country to be found ready to take up the part
played in the past by England towards the refugees
flying from social revolution. Mr. and Mrs. Nelson
Parbury, after knocking in turn at all the frontiers of
Europe, and finding a welcome nowhere, were finally
received unwillingly by the Eskimos.
Meanwhile, the former " Labour " leaders who had
THE DEBACLE 31 7
remained in the country, found themselves reduced to
the ranks, obliged to seek jobs as best they could in
nationalised industry. Hanley, in despair at seeing
the reality to which his dreams of a Socialist Paradise
had led, flung himself into the river from Westminster
Bridge.
This state of affairs was not at all to the taste of those
members of the Labour Party who had fared sump-
tuously in the bad old days of the Capitalist system.
Accordingly, Messrs. Bagnall, Pudsey, and Renton
decided that the English climate was no longer suited
to their health, and bethought themselves of seeking
refuge with some of their friends abroad. Who would
be more likely to befriend them than General von
Rauschenberg whose programme they had carried out
so faithfully ?
One sum;mer's day the trio arrived in Stolzenbach
and sought an early interview with His Excellency.
"So? " he said, glaring at them from under his
bushy eyebrows. " For what have you come ? "
"We have come to claim your protection. Our
own country has become uninhabitable. We wish to
live in Germany and to become German citizens."
"Germany has no use for traitors," answered the
General, and turning to his Jager he said abruptly :
"Take these dogs out and shoot them!"
Which was done.
The fiery General had found out his mistake at last.
Like many another Continental foe of England he
began to find himself hoist with his own petard. The
tide of Bolshevism which he had helped to direct
against the Allies now threatened to invade his own
country.
For with the downfall of the British Empire the
whole structure of civilisation had been shaken to its
foundations, and even those who had hated it for its
greatness now trembled for their own safety. In
France, Belgium, Holland, Switzerland, the Com-
munists began to gain the upper hand. Spain
declared a Soviet Republic. Japan, undermined by
Bolshevist propaganda, defended itself desperately
against the combined attacks of Russia and China.
In India, with the withdrawal of the British Anny
and Police, fierce racial riots broke out ; soon it was
war to the knife between the Moslems and Hindus.
In Palestine, no longer under the Protectorate of
Great Britain, the Arabs turned upon the Jews; in
South Africa, Dutch and British settlers alike found
themselves faced by a rising of the black races ; the
United States by an anti-Anglo-Saxon coalition of the
alien elements that made up so large a proportion of
their population.
The whole world rushed towards chaos.
The Revolution, like Saturn, was eating its own
children. The thousands of writers, speakers, artists,
propagandists, who had spent their energies in under-
mining the structure of civilisation, found themselves
being gradually buried underneath its ruins. This
was no return to Nature, no clean sweep such as they
had pictured, but a squalid mess amidst which they
wandered trying to pick the means of existence from
beneath the wreckage. Powerful to destroy they had
no conception how to set about the work of recon-
struction. They had killed society and could not live
upon its corpse.
Even the Zodiac had overreached itself. Events
had moved too quickly for its reckonings. Accustomed
to know beforehand what was going to happen and
THE DEBACLE
therefore how to turn everything to profit, the Twelve
now found themselves unable to keep pace with the
changes taking place simultaneously at all points of the
globe. They had wanted revolutions, but ordered
revolutions exploding like time fuses at the appointed
moment. They had wanted wars, but wars carried out
on fixed lines, of which they could calculate the out-
come, not sporadic wars breaking out here and there
like heath fires in all directions at once. They had
wanted to destroy the British Empire, but only in so
far as it was British, preserving the framework so that
they might take it over. They did not want it reduced
to scrap-iron of which no use could be made.
For the Zodiac had set out to rule the world and they
had come to reign over ruins. The disciplined organ-
isation they once held at their disposal had been
broken up, their agents and agitators, formerly
brigaded and prompt to obey, had been reduced to a
disorderly rabble. The indm~tries they controlled had
been thrown out of gear.' The spider's web of finance
they had spread out all over the world was breaking
at every point. The fabulous wealth they had
amassed had turned to dust ; their stores of gold could
purchase nothing. Of what use to Virgo were muni-
tion works, coal mines, and railways in a dozen different
countries, when the workers in them could not be
depended on for a moment ? How was Aries to carry on
his operations in Wall Street if the New York Stock
Exchange had closed down ? How could Scorpio reap
the benefit of the boycott of British goods in the East
when India and China were in a state of anarchy ?
How was Sagittarius to ring up Buenos Ayres if the
Argentine telephone system had been put out of action
that day by revolutionaries? And how were Libra,
Gemini, and Aquarius to project thought over a
demented multitude ? The passivity on which they
depended for mass propaganda had been dispelled ;
men were thinking at last, thinking furiously, for the
day of words was done and grim realities stared them in
the face.
It was then that from an obscure centre in Italy the
secret of the Zodiac was broadcasted to the world ; the
names of the Twelve and their scheme of world power
were published in a score of languages. Then the tide
of human passions that the Zodiac had set in motion
turned against themselves. Their agents in the Krem-
lin, no longer able to maintain discipline in the Red
Army, were massacred by mutineers from within its
ranks ; peasant riots and pogroms broke out every-
where. In New York, Oscar and Isidore Franklin
were lynched by a maddened crowd ; in London
Cancer was shot by a hungry workman ; a bomb blew
Pisces to bits in the streets of Cairo. Stricken with
terror, Gemini swallowed poison, Aquarius blew out
his brains, Libra died of shock. Gradually all the
Twelve were removed from the earth's surface. The
Sun and Head of all lost his reason.
The world they left behind them was in chaos ;
civilisation had been set back a hundred years. But
the power of the Zodiac was ended. Humanity was
free to work out its own salvation.
THE END
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"So you see, my dear Coningsby, that the

BOSWELL PUBLISHING CO., LTD.

II. COMRADES IN ARMS 24

III. THE DOUBLE LIFE OF JAMES BRANDON 38

IV. AN EVENTFUL WEEK-END 50

VII. KAVANAGH HUNTS FOR DRAGONS IOI

VIII. THE VILLA PAX MUND! 126

IX. WITHIN THE TEMPLE I5I

X. ON THE TRACK OF THE CONSPIRACY I8I

XI. THE CHEKA 217

XII. COSMOS 240

XIII. A KENSINGTON TRAGEDY 267

XIV. THE END OF THE QUEST 283

XV. THE DEBACLE 304

IT was a warm night in May, and Sir Alfred and Lady

of the fifty crept out in the middle of the Home Secre-

fraternising between the trenches I After all, this

MAJORTERENCEKAVANAGH was a young man whom

AFTER this Kavanagh's life began to take on more

Mrs. Murray Bateman's small house-party turned out

The next morning they travelled up to London by

AN incident that occurred a few days later gave them

"Well, you've got me beat this time," Kavanagh

THE next morning Rosamund arrived at Kavanagh's

Kavanagh's eyes wandered round the room. There

Mrs. Murray Bateman lost no time in ringing

Myra Greenworthy meanwhile did not forget her

they'd lose at once that sort of common air that makes

quite unprepared for Myra slipping her hand into his

High Street with well-timed accuracy. Well, this

Italian side of the Swiss frontier, lying at the edge of

yourself live in Rome. How many Russians could

"It's all very queer," Kavanagh said after they had

Meanwhile Brandon had not been wasting his time,

sections employ a slightly different phraseology, but

"So there is a Temple here," said Brandon, handing

"At any rate, let's go and have a look at him on his

flowers from the Villa Pax Mundi on his arrival."

That evening at 9.30 the waiter at the Capello

Schnorrer, whilst one of the three blindfolded candi-

of the Inner Order send you greeting. They commend

situation he had ever been in, and for a moment his

BRANDON'Sadventure in the Temple had led to more

And this time Russia will be with us."

" There is news to-day," a Nazi observed one evening,

"A nasty hole to have got into," Brandon said to

" The Tories always hate anyone who does any-

paper on his person in the hope that either Kavanagh

Soon after the breakfast of coffee and dry bread

generals as our enemies-as the enemies of the working-

German capital. Whilst he pondered, looking ahead

Whilst Brandon was engaged on his adventures in

"To-night, the General's manservant was saying."

As soon as the train had left Stolzenbach Brandon

members would hardly desire to be photographed in

He had soon reason to congratulate himself on the

On receiving Brandon's telegram Kavanagh decided

but so as to avoid taking the stolen document about