BLACK MAGIC. Bowen Marjorie

had no words to answer; his throat was hot, his lips dry with excitement, he felt his temples pulsating and his brow damp.

      Cautiously they crept down the stairs and into the workroom, where the lantern cast long pale rays of light across the hot dark.

      Dirk set the window as wide as it would go and crouched into the chair under it; his face was flushed, his hair tumbled, his brown clothes dishevelled.

      “Tell me about yourself,” he said.

      Theirry leant against the wall, for he felt his limbs trembling.

      “What do you want to know?” he asked, half desperately; “I can do very little.”

      Dirk set his elbows on the table and his chin in his hand; his half-veiled gleaming eyes held Theirry’s fascinated, reluctant gaze.

      “I have had no chance to learn,” he whispered. “Master Lukas had some books — not enough —— but what one might do —!”

      “I came upon old writings,” said Theirry slowly. “I thought one might be great — that way, so I fled from Courtrai.”

      Dirk rose and beckoned.

      “I will work a spell to-night. You shall see.”

      He took up the lantern and Theirry followed him; they traversed the chamber and entered another; in the centre of that Dirk stopped, and gave the light into the cold hand of his companion.

      “Here we shall be secret,” he murmured, and raised, with some difficulty, a trap-door in the floor. Theirry peered into the blackness revealed below.

      “Have you done this before?” he asked fearfully.

      “This spell? No.”

      Dirk was descending the stairs into the dark.

      “God will never forgive,” muttered Theirry, hanging back.

      “Are you afraid?” asked Dirk wildly.

      Theirry set his lips.

      “No. No.”

      He stepped on to the ladder, and holding the light above his head, followed.

      They found themselves in a large vault entirely below the surface of the ground, so that air was attained only from the trap-door that they had left open behind them.

      Floor and walls were paved with smooth stones, the air was thick and intolerably hot; the roof only a few inches above Theirry’s head.

      In one corner stood a tall dark mirror, resting against the wall; beside it were a pile of books and an iron brazier full of ashes.

      Dirk took the lantern from Theirry and hung it to a nail on the wall.

      “I have been studying,” he whispered, “how to raise spirits and see into the future — I think I begin to feel my way;” his great eyes suddenly unclosed and flashed over his companion. “Have you the courage?”

      “Yes,” said Theirry hoarsely. “For what else have I left my home if not for this?” “It is strange we should have met,” shuddered Dirk.

      Their guilty eyes glanced away from each other; Dirk took a piece of white chalk from his pocket and began drawing circles, one within the other on the centre of the floor.

      He marked them with strange signs and figures that he drew carefully and exactly.

      Theirry stayed by the lantern, his handsome face drawn and pale, his eyes intent on the other’s movements.

      The upper part of the vault was in darkness; shadows like a bat’s wings swept either side of the lantern that cast a sickly yellow light on the floor, and the slender figure of Dirk on one knee amid his chalk circles.

      When he had completed them he rose, took one of the books from the corner and opened it. “Do you know this?” With a delicate forefinger he beckoned Theirry, who came and read over his shoulder.

      “I have tried it. It has never succeeded.”

      “To-night it may,” whispered Dirk.

      He shook the ashes out of the brazier and filled it with charcoal that he took from a pile near. This he lit and placed before the mirror.

      “The future — we must know the future,” he said, as if to himself.

      “They will not come,” said Theirry, wiping his damp forehead. “I— heard them once — but they never came.”

      “Did you tempt them enough?” breathed Dirk. “If you have Mandrake they will do anything.” “I had none.”

      “Nor I— still one can force them against their will — though it is — terrible.”

      The thin blue smoke from the charcoal was filling the vault; they felt their heads throbbing, their nostrils dry.

      Dirk stepped into the chalk circles holding the book.

      In a slow, unsteady voice he commenced to read.

      As Theirry caught the words of the blasphemous and horrible invocation he shook and shuddered, biting his tongue to keep back the instinctive prayer that rose to his lips.

      But Dirk gained courage as he read; he drew himself erect; his eyes flashed, his cheeks burnt crimson; the smoke had cleared from the brazier, the charcoal glowed red and clear; the air grew hotter; it seemed as if a cloak of lead had been flung over their heads.

      At last Dirk stopped.

      “Put out the lantern,” he muttered.

      Theirry opened it and stifled the flame.

      There was now only the light of the burning charcoal that threw a ghastly hue over the dark surface of the mirror.

      Theirry drew a long sighing breath; Dirk, swaying on his feet, began speaking again in a strange and heavy tongue.

      Then he was silent.

      Faint muttering noises grew out of the darkness, indistinct sounds of howling, sobbing. “They come,” breathed Theirry.

      Dirk repeated the invocation.

      The air shuddered with moanings.

      “A— ah!” cried Dirk.

      Into the dim glow of the brazier a creature was crawling, the size of a dog, the shape of a man, of a hideous colour of mottled black; it made a wretched crying noise, and moved slowly as if in pain.

      Theirry gave a great sob, and pressed his face against the wall.

      But Dirk snarled at it across the dark.

      “So you have come. Show us the future. I have the power over you. You know that.”

      The thin flames leapt suddenly high, a sound of broken wailings came through the air; something ran round the brazier; the surface of the mirror was troubled as if dark water ran over it; then suddenly was flashed on it a faint yet bright image of a woman, crowned, and with yellow hair; as she faded, a semblance of one wearing a tiara appeared but blurred and faint. “More,” cried Dirk passionately. “Show us more —”

      The mirror brightened, revealing depths of cloudy sky; against them rose the dark line of a gallows tree.

      Theirry stepped forward.

      “Ah, God!” he shrieked, and crossed himself. With a sharp sound the mirror cracked and fell asunder; a howl of terror arose, and dark shapes leapt into the air to be absorbed in it and disappear.

      Dirk staggered out of the circle and caught hold of Theirry.

      “You have broken the spell!” he gibbered. “You have broken the spell!”

      An icy stillness had suddenly fallen; the brazier flickered rapidly out, and even the coals were soon black and dead; the two stood in absolute darkness.

      “They have gone!”