Lord Kettering smiled sadly . “ Indeed , they do . As you can now attest . I have given you your story , but moreover , your editor has given me your own . He tells me of late you have insinuated yourself into a group of Satanists in northern Wales . I read the description of this cult in your subsequent article about devil worship . Tell me , were you infatuated by their practices ?”
“ That was merely research ,” I scoffed . “ They were abominations !”
The old man smiled . “ I thought as much . The piece was quite detailed , though . I strongly suspect they are the remnants of the coven that laid this imprecation upon me . You have felt my agony . I ask you , as one Godfearing Englishman to another , will you help me uncover them and force them to rescind this curse ? The means may try us as honest men ; they may require bribery , threats , torture , or worse — but I beg you , will you allow me this final chance at peace ?” He grasped my arm , and his strong shaking hand aroused my pity .
“ I am at your service ,” I whispered .
So tonight Kettering Hall is far behind us , and the wild howling storms of the Welsh moors batter the rough-hewn inn where we have ended the first leg of our journey . Jeffries has retired to the stable to bed down the horses and inventory our stores and armaments . Lord Kettering is slumped in the chair beside me , his brandy glass half-fallen from his fingers . I am not afraid of the wretched journey before us . I do not fear the evil battle that is surely to come . I am not frightened of failure or of
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