"Wehaven't all the time in the world."
"Patience, my lord; patience," said the little sorcerer calmly. "Can'thurry these things, you know." He was kneeling in front of a large,heavy traveling chest in the bedroom of the guest apartment occupiedtemporarily by Laird and Lady Duncan, working with the lock. "Oneposition of a lock is just as relevant as the other so you can't workwith the bolt. But the pin-tumblers in the cylinder, now, that's adifferent matter. A lock's built so that the breaks in the tumblersare not related to the surface of the cylinder when the key is out,but there is a relation when the key's _in_, so by taking advantage ofthat relevancy--Ah!"
The lock clicked open.
Lord Darcy raised the lid gently.
"Carefully, my lord!" Master Sean said in a warning voice. "He's got aspell on the thing! Let me do it." He made Lord Darcy stand back andthen lifted the lid of the heavy trunk himself. When it was leaningback against the wall, gaping open widely on its hinges, Master Seantook a long look at the trunk and its lid without touching either ofthem. There was a second lid on the trunk, a thin one obviouslyoperated by a simple bolt.
Master Sean took his sorcerer's staff, a five-foot, heavy rod made ofthe wood of the quicken tree or mountain ash, and touched the innerlid. Nothing happened. He touched the bolt. Nothing.
"Hm-m-m," Master Sean murmured thoughtfully. He glanced around theroom, and his eyes fell on a heavy stone doorstop. "That ought to doit." He walked over, picked it up, and carried it back to the chest.Then he put it on the rim of the chest in such a position that if thelid were to fall it would be stopped by the doorstop.
Then he put his hand in as if to lift the inner lid.
The heavy outer lid swung forward and down of its own accord, movingwith blurring speed, and slammed viciously against the doorstop.
Lord Darcy massaged his right wrist gently, as if he felt where thelid would have hit if he had tried to open the inner lid. "Triggeredto slam if a human being sticks a hand in there, eh?"
"Or a head, my lord. Not very effectual if you know what to look for.There are better spells than that for guarding things. Now we'll seewhat his lordship wants to protect so badly that he practices sorcerywithout a license." He lifted the lid again, and then opened the innerlid. "It's safe now, my lord. _Look at this!_"
Lord Darcy had already seen. Both men looked in silence at thecollection of paraphernalia on the first tray of the chest. MasterSean's busy fingers carefully opened the tissue paper packing of oneafter another of the objects. "A human skull," he said. "Bottles ofgraveyard earth. Hm-m-m--this one is labeled 'virgin's blood.' Andthis! A Hand of Glory!"
It was a mummified human hand, stiff and dry and brown, with thefingers partially curled, as though they were holding an invisibleball three inches or so in diameter. On each of the fingertips was ashort candle-stub. When the hand was placed on its back, it would actas a candelabra.
"That pretty much settles it, eh, Master Sean?" Lord Darcy said.
"Indeed, my lord. At the very least, we can get him for possession ofmaterials. Black magic is a matter of symbolism and intent."
"Very well. I want a complete list of the contents of that chest. Besure to replace everything as it was and relock the trunk." He tuggedthoughtfully at an earlobe. "So Laird Duncan has the Talent, eh?Interesting."
"Aye. But not surprising, my lord," said Master Sean without lookingup from his work. "It's in the blood. Some attribute it to theDedannans, who passed through Scotland before they conquered Irelandthree thousand years ago, but, however that may be, the Talent runsstrong in the Sons of Gael. It makes me boil to see it misused."
While Master Sean talked, Lord Darcy was prowling around the room,reminding one of a lean tomcat who was certain that there was a mouseconcealed somewhere.
"It'll make Laird Duncan boil if he isn't stopped," Lord Darcymurmured absently.
"Aye, my lord," said Master Sean. "The mental state necessary to usethe Talent for black sorcery is such that it invariably destroys theuser--but, if he knows what he's doing, a lot of other people are hurtbefore he finally gets his."
Lord Darcy opened the jewel box on the dresser. The usual travelingjewelry--enough, but not a great choice.
"A man's mind turns in on itself when he's taken up with hatred andthoughts of revenge," Master Sean droned on. "Or, if he's the type who_enjoys_ watching others suffer, or the type who doesn't care but iswilling to do anything for gain, then his mind is already warped andthe misuse of the Talent just makes it worse."
Lord Darcy found what he was looking for in a drawer, just underneathsome neatly folded lingerie. A small holster, beautifully made ofFlorentine leather, gilded and tooled. He didn't need Master Sean'ssorcery to tell him that the little pistol fit it like a hand in aglove.
* * * * *
Father Bright felt as though he had been walking a tightrope forhours. Laird and Lady Duncan had been talking in low, controlledvoices that betrayed an inner nervousness, but Father Bright realizedthat he and the Countess had been doing the same thing. The Duncan ofDuncan had offered his condolences on the death of the late Count withthe proper air of suppressed sorrow, as had Mary, Lady Duncan. TheCountess had accepted them solemnly and with gratitude. But FatherBright was well aware that no one in the room--possibly, he thought,no one in the world--regretted the Count's passing.
Laird Duncan sat in his wheelchair, his sharp Scots features set in asad smile that showed an intent to be affable even though great sorrowweighed heavily upon him. Father Bright noticed it and realized thathis own face had the same sort of expression. No one was foolinganyone else, of that the priest was certain--but for anyone to admitit would be the most boorish breach of etiquette. But there was ahaggardness, a look of increased age about the Laird's countenancethat Father Bright did not like. His priestly intuition told himclearly that there was a turmoil of emotion in the Scotsman's mindthat was ... well, _evil_ was the only word for it.
Lady Duncan was, for the most part, silent. In the past fifteenminutes, since she and her husband had come to the informal tea, shehad spoken scarcely a dozen words. Her face was masklike, but therewas the same look of haggardness about her eyes as there was in herhusband's face. But the priest's emphatic sense told him that theemotion here was fear, simple and direct. His keen eyes had noticedthat she wore a shade too much make-up. She had almost succeeded incovering up the faint bruise on her right cheek, but not completely.
My lady the Countess D'Evreux was all sadness and unhappiness, butthere was neither fear nor evil there. She smiled politely and talkedquietly. Father Bright would have been willing to bet that not one ofthe four of them would remember a word that had been spoken.
Father Bright had placed his chair so that he could keep an eye on theopen doorway and the long hall that led in from the Great Keep. Hehoped Lord Darcy would hurry. Neither of the guests had been told thatthe Duke's Investigator was here, and Father Bright was just a littleapprehensive about the meeting. The Duncans had not even been toldthat the Count's death had been murder, but he was certain that theyknew.
Father Bright saw Lord Darcy come in through the door at the far endof the hall. He murmured a polite excuse and rose. The other threeaccepted his excuses with the same politeness and went on with theirtalk. Father Bright met Lord Darcy in the hall.
"Did you find what you were looking for, Lord Darcy?" the priest askedin a low tone.
"Yes," Lord Darcy said. "I'm afraid we shall have to arrest LairdDuncan."
"Murder?"
"Perhaps. I'm not yet certain of that. But the charge will be blackmagic. He has all the paraphernalia in a chest in his room. MasterSean reports that a ritual was enacted in the bedroom last night. Ofcourse, that's out of my jurisdiction. You, as a representative of theChurch, will have to be the arresting officer." He paused. "You don'tseem surprised, Reverence."
"I'm not," Father Bright admitted. "I felt it. You and Master Seanwill have to make out a sworn deposition before I can act."
"I under
stand. Can you do me a favor?"
"If I can."
"Get my lady the Countess out of the room on some pretext or other.Leave me alone with her guests. I do not wish to upset my lady anymore than absolutely necessary."
"I think I can do that. Shall we go in together?"
"Why not? But don't mention why I am here. Let them assume I am justanother guest."
"Very well."
* * * * *
All three occupants of the room glanced up as Father Bright came inwith Lord Darcy. The introductions were made: Lord Darcy humbly beggedthe pardon of