THE
HAND OF POWER
BY
EDGAR WALLACE
THE MYSTERY LEAGUE, INC.
PUBLISHERS 1930 NEW YORK
[COPYRIGHT]
COPYRIGHT, 1930, BY
THE MYSTERY LEAGUE, Inc.
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED
FIRST EDITION
CONTENTS
I. The Men of the Moor
II. Dr. Laffin Commands
III. Pawter’s Services
IV. Captain Harvey Hale
V. Benson
VI. Betty Consents
VII. At Thames Head
VIII. The Proud Sons
IX. No-Arrest Bullott
X. The Desk Store
XI. Mr. Lambert Stone
XII. The Man from Nowhere
XIII. The Message
XIV. The Locked Room
XV. Getting in
XVI. The Novitiates
XVII. Brother John
XVIII. A Shot in the Street
XIX. The Man in Charge
XX. The Initiation
XXI. Jenny Hamshaw
XXII. Dr. Laffin’s Offer
XXIII. Gone!
XXIV. The Dream
XXV. Betty Does Not Remember
XXVI. A Talk with Dr. Laffin
XXVII. Ragousa Talk
XXVIII. The Seen Prior
XXIX. A Strange Occurrence
XXX. Dope
XXXI. In Epping Forest
XXXII. Toby Marsh Goes to a Party
XXXIII. The Listener in the Chimney
XXXIV. Mr. Pawter Explains
XXXV. The Priory
XXXVI. The Grand Prior Shows His Hand
XXXVII. A Trip to Devon
XXXVIII. A Man and a Maid
XXXIX. The Test
XL. The Woman with the Jug
XLI. Florette Complains
XLII. An Additional Passenger
XLIII. On Board the “Escorial”
XLIV. Betty’s Fear
XLV. “Sir John and Lady Wilford”
XLVI. The Blue Bottle
XLVII. An Attack in the Night
XLVIII. A Radio from New York
XLIX. Bullott Explains
L. The Evening of the Ball
LI. The Control
LII. Changed Conditions
LIII. Bill Has a Plan
LIV. In the Wireless House
LV. The “Thomas Inland”
LVI. Harvey Hale and Laffin
LVII. Warships
LVIII. Toward the Fog
LIX. The Siren
LX. The Man in Control
LXI. Bullott Makes an Arrest
LXII. Bullott’s Story
Endnotes
THE HAND
OF POWER
CHAPTER I.
THE MEN OF THE MOOR
A gale of wind and rain swept across the barren face of Dartmoor,
that ancient desolation. The howl and shriek of it came to Betty Carew
above the rattle and roar of the motor engine as the old car grunted
and groaned up the steep hill.
The lights of Tavistock had long since disappeared. Princetown was
three miles beyond the crest of the hill. About them was an infinite
loneliness, and the sobbing of wind that drove the needle-sharp sleet
into their faces. The yellow-faced old man who drove did not speak--he
had not spoken since they left Tavistock; would not willingly break
his silence before they reached Exeter--or after.
The car laboured up the twisting road, skidding and sliding from left
to right, and with every lurch the girl’s heart came into her mouth.
At the top of the hill the full force of the gale caught them and all
but brought the car to a stand-still. Rain smacked viciously against
the screen, whipped under the lowered brim of her hat, thrashing her
face till it smarted intolerably.
“Don’t you think we’d be wise if we went back to Tavistock?”
She had to raise her voice to a scream before he heard her.
“No!”
The answer came like a pistol shot, and she said no more.
Dr. Laffin had bought the car cheap at a sale of Army derelicts--it
had been old before the requisitions of war had called it for military
service. It served him well enough; gave him the illusion of economy
at a moment when economy was necessary. He had a small starveling
property on the edge of the moor, a farm where a ploughshare touched
rock every rood or so. His tenant was a man who complained regularly
and paid his rent occasionally. The further illusion of proprietorship
almost compensated Dr. Laffin for other deficiencies.
West of Princetown, the wind slackened and normal speech was possible.
“You won’t try to get beyond Exeter to-night?” asked the girl
nervously. It was not beyond the bounds of possibility that he would
continue the journey to London.
“I don’t know.” His tone was uncompromising.
Betty could have said something unpleasant, but wisely held her
tongue. They skirted the prison fields; the lights of the car showed
momentarily the ugly arch before the jail, and a muffled figure
leaning upon a rifle beyond the gate; and in another minute they had
passed through Princetown and were facing the winds of the open moor.
In spite of her oilskin coat, the girl was soaked through; she was
cold and stiff and hungry, and for the first time in her life thought
longingly of the grim house in Camden Road. Then, to her surprise, the
man spoke.
“This is better than play-acting… living reality… there are spirits in
this place… I can feel them. Hail thou!”
His hand came off the driving wheel and was raised in stiff salute.
Betty, shivering with terror, shut her eyes.
Play-acting! If that wretched road engagement hadn’t come to an abrupt
end--at Tavistock of all places in the world, and, by a hideous
coincidence, at the very moment Joshua Laffin was making a half-yearly
visit to his “property”!
“There are evil things chained to the dark!” His voice prim,
emotionless, pierced the whine and flurry of gale and engine. “Terrors
undreamt of by shallow minds… what of the forty million spirits of
Atlantis?”
She put her hands to her ears, and the next moment could have shrieked
her fears. Ahead of them gleamed a red spot of light in the very
centre of the road. It was like a fiery eye glowering from some
cyclopean socket.
The car jangled and shuddered to a standstill before she saw the
figure with the red lantern.
The lights of the car were poor, aged oil-burning lamps, and the man
who had swung the lantern showed dimly. He seemed to be dressed in a
long, close-fitting gown like the habit of a monk.… Her mouth opened
wide in wonder and fear--the head was shrouded in a cowl that covered
the face--and she saw only a gleam of eyes behind narrow slits cut in
the cloth.
“May I speak to you, please?” said the cowled man, and now she saw
that he had a companion, a sombre companion similarly attired.
“What is it?… What is the meaning of this foolery?” grated Joshua
Laffin.
The man walked to his side and said something in a tone so low that
Betty could not hear a word.
“Huh… well, I am…”
Laffin’s voice sank to a rumble, and for a minute or two they carried
on a conversation in an undertone.
“I’ll draw the car up by the side of the road,” said Dr. Laffin, and,
twisting his head toward the girl: “You’ll wait here.”
“Here!” she said, aghast. “In the middle of Dartmoor… alone!”
“This gentleman will look after you--there is no occasion for panic. I
would not leave you if there were.”
He indicated the shadowy form of the second “monk” standing just
outside the spread of the lamp’s rays.
Betty made no answer, but watched Laffin and his sinister companion
till they disappeared in the darkness.
The second man did not stir. Vainly she tried to keep her eyes away
from the cowled face.
Laffin had been gone a quarter of an hour, when there came a sound
that added to the fearfulness of the night. The deep boom of a bell…
She tried to locate it and failed.
_Dong!_
Again, and then…
The faint sound of voices--deep-chested voices of men chanting.
_Dong!_
She was trembling in every limb. What did all this portend? She looked
around nervously. The man still stood where he had been,
watching--what? She had a feeling that he was listening too, his ears
strained--for what?
An hour passed before she heard feet on the hard road and somebody
saying “Good-night.” It was the doctor and he was returning alone: he
must have left his guide somewhere in the darkness. When she looked,
the second man had disappeared.
Laffin cranked up his car and climbed in.
“Who were they?” she asked.
He did not reply, and the car jerked on its way. She had added one
more to the many questions he never answered.
Fifteen months later he offered a solution to the riddle of the moor:
but this she did not know.