Strange Conflict Read online

  ‘Some people dream a lot, others very little—or so they say; but what they actually mean is that they are incapable of remembering their dreams when they wake. The fact is that we all dream—or, if you prefer, leave our bodies— from the very moment we fall asleep. A dream, therefore, is really no more than a confused memory of our activities while the body is sleeping. By writing down everything one can remember of one’s dreams, immediately upon waking, it is perfectly possible gradually to train oneself to recall what one’s spirit did when it was absent from the body. It needs considerable strength of will to rouse oneself at once and the process of establishing a really clear memory requires a very great patience; but you may take my word for it that it can be done. If you doubt me, I could easily produce at least half a dozen other people living in England at the present time who have trained themselves to a degree in which they can recall, without the least difficulty, their nightly journeyings. And, of course, the spirit needs no training to remember what it has done in the body during the daytime. That’s what I mean by continuity of thought when waking and sleeping.’

  ‘I seldom dream,’ announced Sir Pellinore, ‘and if ever I do it’s just an absurd, confused muddle.’

  ‘That is the case with most people, but the explanation is quite simple. When you’re out of your body, time, as we know it, ceases to exist, so in a single night you may journey great distances, meet many people and do an extraordinary variety of things. Therefore, when you awake, if you have any memory at all, it is only of the high spots in your night’s adventures.’

  ‘But they don’t make sense. One thing doesn’t even lead to another.’

  ‘Of course not. But tell me about your normal waking life. Starting from Monday morning, what have you done this week?’

  ‘Well, now, let me see. On Monday I had a meeting with Beaverbrook—very interesting. On Tuesday I lunched with the Admiral responsible for arranging our convoy routes—no, that was Wednesday—it was Tuesday I damn’d-near ricked my ankle—slid down the Duke of York’s Steps. That morning, too, I had a letter from my nephew—hadn’t heard from the young devil for months— he’s with the Coldstream, in the Middle East. Wednesday I lost an important paper, got in a hell of a stew; quite unnecessary, as I had it in the lining of my hat-band all the time, but it gave me a devilish bad half-hour. Yesterday I met you and …’

  ‘That’s quite enough to illustrate my point,’ interrupted the Duke. ‘If those three days had been compressed into a one-night dream you would probably have wakened up with a muddled impression that you were walking in an aircraft factory with Lord Beaverbrook when you suddenly fell and nearly ricked your ankle, to pick yourself up and find that he had disappeared and that you were out with the Admiral on the cold waters of the Atlantic where we are losing so much of our shipping; then that you had the awful impression that you had lost something of the greatest importance, although you couldn’t think what it was, and that you were hunting for it with your soldier-nephew in the sands of Libya, in an interval from chasing the Italians. That is what is called telescoping. None of these things would have had the least apparent connection any more than the events in real life which you gave to me; but it’s quite natural that memory either of real life or of dream activities leaps to the matters which have made great impressions upon the mind. Things of less importance very soon become submerged in the general stream of the sub conscious, and I’m willing to bet you a tenner that you could not now recall accurately what you ate at each meal during those three days, however hard you tried. It’s just the same with the memory of a dream, except that by training one can bring oneself to fill in gaps and follow the whole sequence.’

  ‘Yes; I get your line of argument. But how would this help a German spy to convey information to the enemy?’

  ‘Once one is able to remember one’s dreams clearly, the next step is to learn how to direct them, since that, too, can be done by practice. One can go to sleep having made up one’s mind that one wishes to meet a certain friend on the astral and be quite certain of doing so. Such a state is not easy of achievement, but it is possible to anybody who has sufficient determination to go through the dreary training without losing heart, and it is no matter of education or secret ritual but simply a case of having enough will-power to force oneself into swift wakefulness each morning and concentrating one’s entire strength of mind upon endeavouring to recall every possible detail about one’s dreams. Once that has been successfully accomplished, one has only to go to sleep thinking of the person whom one wishes to meet on the astral plane, then one wakes in the morning with the full consciousness of having done so. It is a tragic fact that countless couples who have been separated by the war do meet each other every night in their spirit bodies, but, through never having trained themselves, by the time they are fully awake the next morning barely one out of ten thousand is conscious of the meeting. However, you will readily appreciate that if lovers can meet on the astral while the bodies they inhabit in the daytime are sleeping thousand of miles apart, there is nothing to prevent enemy agents also doing so.’

  ‘God bless my soul!’ Sir Pellinore suddenly sat forward. ‘Are you suggesting that if a German agent in England had certain information he could go to sleep, report in a dream to some damn’d Gestapo feller who was asleep in Germany, and that if the Gestapo feller was a dream-rememberer he could wake up with the information in his head the following morning?’

  ‘Exactly,’ said the Duke quietly.

  ‘But, man alive, that’d be a terrible thing! It’s too frightful to contemplate. No, no; I don’t want to be rude or anything of that kind, and I’m quite sure you’re not deliberately trying to make a fool of me, but honestly, my dear feller, I just don’t believe it.’

  De Richleau shrugged. ‘There are plenty of people in London who will support my contention; and if I am not greatly mistaken, here comes one of them.’

  As he was speaking there had been a soft rap on the door and his manservant, Max, now appeared, to murmur: ‘Excellency, Mr. Simon Aron has called and wishes to know if you will receive him.’

  ‘Ask him to come in, Max,’ the Duke replied, and turned to Sir Pellinore with a smile. ‘This is one of my old friends of whom we were speaking earlier in the evening.’

  Max had thrown the door open and Simon stood upon the threshold, smiling a little diffidently. He was a thin, slightly built man of middle height, with black hair, a rather receding chin, a great beak of a nose and dark, restless, intelligent eyes. As he came forward the Duke introduced him to Sir Pellinore and the two shook hands.

  ‘Delighted to meet you,’ boomed Sir Pellinore. ‘At one time or another I’ve heard quite a lot about you as one of the people who accompanied de Richleau on some of his famous exploits.’

  Simon wriggled his bird-like head in a little nervous gesture and smiled.’ ‘Fraid I can’t claim much credit for that. The others did all the exciting stuff; I don’t—er—really care much about adventures.’ He glanced swiftly at the Duke, and went on: ‘I do hope I’m not interrupting. Just thought I’d look in—make certain that you hadn’t been bombed.’

  ‘Thank you, Simon. That was most kind of you, but I didn’t know that you were given to wandering about London at night while the blitzkrieg is in progress?’

  ‘Ner.’ Simon stooped his head towards his hand to cover a somewhat sheepish grin, as he uttered the curious negative that he sometimes used. ‘As a matter of fact, I’m not—much too careful of myself; but it occurred to me about half an hour ago that I hadn’t seen you for a week, so when I’d finished my rubber at bridge I jumped into a taxi and came along.’

  ‘Good! Help yourself to a drink.’ De Richleau motioned towards the side-table and, as Simon picked up the brandy decanter, went on: ‘We were talking about occult matters and debating whether it was possible for a German agent in Britain to transmit intelligence to a colleague in Germany by a conversation on the astral plane while both of them were sleeping. What do you think?’ />
  Simon jerked his head in assent. ‘Um—I should say that it was perfectly possible.’

  Sir Pellinore looked at him a little suspiciously. ‘I take it, sir, that you’re a believer in all this occult stuff?’

  ‘Um,’ Simon nodded again. ‘If it hadn’t been for the Duke I might have lost something more precious than my reason through monkeying with the occult some years ago.’

  De Richleau smiled. ‘Naturally you’ll consider that Aron is prejudiced, but whatever beliefs he may hold about the occult, his record shows him to have an extraordinarily astute—in fact, I might say brilliant—brain, and I personally vouch for his integrity. You can speak in front of him with perfect confidence that nothing you say will go outside these four walls, and I think it would be an excellent idea if you put up to him the proposition that you put up to me just after dinner.’

  ‘Very well,’ Sir Pellinore agreed, and he gave Simon a brief outline of the grave position regarding Britain’s shipping losses.

  When he had done, Simon proceeded to embroider the subject in a quick spate of words during which he quoted accurate figures and cases in which convoys had suffered severely.

  ‘Wait a moment, young feller,’ Sir Pellinore exclaimed. ‘How d’you know all this? It’s supposed to be highly secret.’

  Simon grinned. ‘Of course. And I wouldn’t dream of mentioning figures to an outsider, but it’s partly my job to know these things. Got to, because they affect the markets and, er—the Government aren’t the only people who have an Intelligence Service, you know. It’s never occurred to me before, but the transmission of information by occult means is definitely possible. Shouldn’t be a bit surprised if that’s the explanation of the leakage. Anyhow, I think the Duke’s idea ought to be investigated.’

  Sir Pellinore glanced at the Duke. ‘How would you set about such an investigation?’

  ‘I should need to be put in touch with all the people at the Admiralty who are in the secret as to the route each convoy is to take. Then I should go out at night to cover them when they leave their bodies in sleep, to see if I could find the person who is communicating with the enemy.’

  ‘Are you seriously suggesting that your spirit could shadow theirs on the—er—astral plane?’

  ‘That’s the idea. I see no other way in which one could attempt to solve such a mystery. It would be a long job, too, if there are many people in the secret.’

  ‘And damnably dangerous,’ added Simon.

  ‘Why?’ Sir Pellinore inquired.

  ‘Because whoever is giving the information away might find out what I was up to,’ replied the Duke, ‘and would then stick at nothing to stop me.’

  ‘How?’

  ‘When a spirit goes out from a body that is asleep, as long as life continues in the body the spirit is attached to it by a tenuously thin cord of silver light which is capable of stretching to any distance. The cord acts as a telephone wire, and that is how, if sudden danger threatens the body, it is able to recall the spirit to animate it. But if that silver cord is once severed the body dies—in fact, that is what has actually happened when people are said to have died in their sleep. If my intentions are discovered the Powers of Darkness will do their damn’dest to break the silver cord that links my spirit with my body, so that I can never get back to it and report the result of my investigations to you.’

  The elderly Baronet had considerable difficulty in keeping open disbelief out of his voice as he grunted: ‘So even the spirits go in for murder, eh?’

  ‘Certainly. The eternal fight between Good and Evil rages just as fiercely on the astral plane as it does here; only the weapons used are much more terrible, and if one comes into conflict with one of the entities of the Outer Circle one’s soul may sustain grievous harm which is infinitely worse than the mere loss of a body.’

  Sir Pellinore glanced at the clock and stood up. ‘Well,’ he said, with his genial bluffness, ‘it’s been a most interesting evening—thoroughly enjoyed myself—but I must be getting along.’

  ‘No, no,’ said the Duke. ‘I can see that you still think I’m talking nonsense, but in fairness to me you must await the outcome of my magical experiment.’

  ‘What have you been up to?’ Simon inquired with sudden interest, but the others ignored him, as Sir Pellinore replied:

  ‘Of course I will, if you wish, but honestly, my dear fellow, I don’t think anything you could do would really convince me. All this business about silver cords, spirits committing murder, and even one’s immortal soul not being safe in God’s keeping, is a bit too much for a man of my age to swallow.’

  At that moment there was another knock on the door and Max stood there again. ‘Excellency, Mr. Rex Van Ryn and Mr. Richard Eaton are here and wish to know if you will receive them.’

  ‘Certainly,’ said the Duke. ‘Ask them to come in.’

  Rex, tall, broad-shouldered, in the uniform of an R.A.F. flight-lieutenant but leaning heavily on a stick, was the first to enter, and Sir Pellinore greeted him with hearty congratulations on his D.F.C. Richard, much slighter in build, followed him and was duly introduced.

  ‘Well, well,’ laughed Sir Pellinore to his host, ‘it seems that you’re holding quite a reception tonight, and the four famous companions are now reunited.’

  A broad smile lit Rex’s ugly attractive face as he said to the Duke: ‘Richard and I had just negotiated a spot of dinner together round the corner, at the Dorchester, when we had a hunch, almost simultaneously, that after we’d finished our magnum it’d be a great idea to drop along and take a brandy off you.’

  De Richleau turned to Sir Pellinore. ‘The note that I gave you—would you produce it now?’

  Sir Pellinore fished in his pocket, brought out the envelope, ripped it open and read what the Duke had written half an hour before. It ran as follows:

  ‘You will bear witness that since writing this note I have not left your presence, used the telephone, or communicated in any way with my servants. You expressed the wish, just after dinner, to meet my friends, Simon Aron, Rex Van Ryn, and Richard Eaton.

  ‘If they are not in London the ceremony that I propose to perform will not be successful, because they will not have time to reach here before you go home, but if, as I believe, they are, it is virtually certain that at least one of them will put in an appearance here before midnight.

  ‘If any or all of them turn up I shall see to it that they testify, without prompting, that they have not called upon me by arrangement but have done so purely owing to a sudden idea that they would like to see me which came into their minds. That idea is no matter of mere chance but because through a magical ceremony I have conveyed to them my will that they shall appear here.

  ‘If the ceremony is successful I trust that this will convince you that the Nazis may use magic for infinitely more nefarious purposes and that it is our duty to conduct an investigation in this matter with the least possible delay.’

  Sir Pellinore lowered the note and glanced round the little circle. His blue eyes held a strange, puzzled look, as he exclaimed:

  ‘By God, I’d never have believed it! You win, Duke, I’ve got to admit that. Mind you, that’s not to say I’m prepared to swallow all the extraordinary things you’ve said this evening. Still, in a case like this we can’t afford to neglect any avenue. Our Atlantic Life-line is our one weak spot and it may be—yes, it may be that in those slender hands of yours lies the Victory or Defeat of Britain.’

  4

  For Those in Peril on the Sea

  ‘I shall need help,’ said the Duke gravely.

  ‘Anything in reason for which you care to ask shall be given to you,’ Sir Pellinore replied at once.

  ‘I meant skilled help—people who understand something of psychic lore—who can work with me and whom I can trust.’ De Richleau glanced round at his friends. ‘I take it that I can count upon you three?’

  Simon nodded, and Richard said with a smile: ‘Of course; but as Rex and I have only just
turned up we haven’t the faintest idea yet what all this is about.’

  Sir Pellinore told them, upon which Rex said:

  ‘All three of us were with the Duke in that ghastly Talisman of Set affair, so we’re acquainted with the occult sufficiently to lend a hand under his direction, but right now I’m tied up with the Royal Air Force.’

  ‘I could arrange for your leave to be indefinitely extended,’ said Sir Pellinore.

  ‘Good,’ remarked the Duke. ‘Richard is his own master; but how about you, Simon? Can you manage to get away from your office possibly for several weeks?’

  ‘Um—don’t want to a bit, but this is obviously more important.’

  As the Duke spoke again his first words were almost drowned in the booming of the guns, but the others just caught them.

  ‘If we’re going to wage war on the astral plane we’ll have to leave London. It’s essential that we should be able to work in some place where we shall run as little risk as possible of being disturbed by purely physical excitements.’

  ‘You’d better all come down and stay at Cardinals Folly,’ suggested Richard at once. ‘We hardly even hear a plane go over down there in the depths of the country, and you know that Marie Lou would be delighted to have you.’