The Satanist

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Authors: Dennis Wheatley
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It was only as an afterthought that it occurred to her that, as she had to make another name for a while, it would be rather fun to assume the sort of one that might have been chosen for a foreign film-star. Meanwhile, Mrs. Wardeel continued to gush at her.
    ‘You know, I always take a special interest in the young who seek the great truths – young physically, I mean; for, of course, we are all young whenever we get away from these wretched bodies that anchor us here. Not, of course, my dear that that applies to you. But there is no escape from the advancing years, is there? And for the young to learn early that they will never really grow old is such a marvellous protection against the time when one’s looks begin to fade. I am sure that one of the Masters must have you in his particular care to have guided you to us so early in your present incarnation.’
    As Mary smiled and murmured a few appropriate words, Barney came up behind her. Mrs. Wardeel turned to him, again offered the beringed hand, and made a gracious inclination of her big synthetically-gold-crowned head.
    ‘Ah; and now a new seeker after the Light. But we have two tonight. Are you Mr. Betterton or Lord Larne?’
    Barney pressed the slightly flabby fingers and replied with a gravity that he felt the occasion called for. ‘I’m LordLarne, and I am most grateful to you for allowing me to – er – come here and learn about the sort of things that really matter.’
    ‘You are welcome,’ she said in her deep voice. ‘I welcome you in the name of the Masters. All who come here are sent by them; but only upon trial. Do not expect too much at once. Those who show scepticism and demand proof for everything reveal by that that they are not yet sufficiently advanced to be worthy of approaching the higher spheres. But, if you are patient and receptive, stage by stage the great truths will be unveiled to you.’
    Three more people had arrived so, turning to Mary, she added, ‘Mrs. Mauriac, would you take our new friend, Lord Larne, through to the meeting room?’
    Mary’s heart was still pounding, but her face now showed nothing of her inward agitation. On Mrs. Wardeel’s introducing her to Barney, they exchanged a conventional smile, then walked side by side towards a room at the back of the house. As they did so, she was wondering what could possibly have brought to such a gathering the type of man she knew him to be, and, even more extraordinary, why he should be using a title to which she believed he had no right.
    The room they entered was long and fairly broad and looked larger than it was in fact because all its furniture – except a desk at one end – had been removed and replaced be seven rows of fold-up wooden chairs. Some twenty people had already taken their seats. Most of them were middle-aged and fairly prosperous looking; there were more women than men, and among the former were two Indian ladies wearing caste marks and saris.
    Barney ran his eye swiftly over such of their faces as he could see from where he stood and decided that they looked a more normal crowd than he had expected – in fact, they might all have been collected in one swoop by clearing and transporting the occupants of the lounge of any of the better-class South Kensington hotels. Mary nodded a greeting to a few of them, then took the chair that he was holdingfor her. As he sat down beside her he said:
    ‘I gather that you are one of the older inhabitants of this village, Mrs. Mauriac?’
    ‘Oh, I…’ her mouth felt dry and her voice threatened to rise from nervous tension. With an effort she got it under control. ‘I’m far from that. This is only the third meeting that I’ve attended.’
    Barney noted that she had no French accent, then he replied:
    ‘Even that puts you quite a bit ahead of me. Do you find the teaching easy to follow?’
    ‘Some of it.’ To cover her confusion Mary hurried on. ‘I find the arguments for believing in Reincarnation simple and

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