‘To-Night Thou Shalt Be with Me in Paradise’

Lord Mayor’s Street in the evening seemed always, if by any chance it could, to attract and contain such mist as might be about. A faint vapour made the air dim, especially round the three shops, and caused passers-by to remark regularly either that the evening was a bit misty or that the evenings were drawing in or that there might be something of a fog by the morning. But for Gregory Persimmons, as he came swiftly into it about nine o’clock on the same day, the chemist’s shop rode London like a howdah on the back of an elephant, the symbol and shelter of the prince that ruled the armies of the air. He reached the door, which was still ajar, pushed it open, entered, and closed it after him.

The shop was dark, after the street light a few paces away outside, but the gleam of a light came from the inner room. For the first time since Gregory had known it the Greek was not there, but as he hesitated a voice sounded from within.

“Is that you, Gregory?” Manasseh called.

“It is I,” Gregory answered, crossed the shop, and went in.

The room was bare and dirty. On a table under the window and exactly opposite the door in to the shop, the Graal stood exposed, under the light of a single electric bulb which hung without a shade from the middle of the ceiling. There were no pictures and no books; a few chairs stood about, and in one corner was a high closed cabinet. A dilapidated carpet covered the floor.

The Greek was sitting in a chair on the left of the Graal. Manasseh had apparently been walking up and down, but he stood still as Gregory came in, and looked at him anxiously. “Well,” he said, “have you brought the child?”

“Not to-night,” Persimmons said. “I thought it better not. You or someone else, Manasseh, have worked wonders. She’s almost well again, and wanted to see him. So I promised she should tomorrow, and he’s coming to London with me tomorrow afternoon to go to — I forget where he is to go to. It doesn’t matter. When do we leave England?”

“The day after,” Manasseh said. “I’m supposed to go down and see the woman again that morning. But as things are I don’t know . . . ”

“Send them a wire in the morning,” Gregory suggested. “‘Detained till this afternoon.’ We shall be at Harwich by then.”

“I don’t know why you’re so keen on the child,” Manasseh said morosely. “You won’t have him — interfered with at all, even to make the journey easier?”

“The journey will be all right,” Gregory said. “Jessie’s coming too. Jessie is the girl who looks after him. It’s quite safe — she doesn’t know exactly, but she will come. She’s got no relations near at hand; she’s a sensuous little bitch, and she has her wanton eyes on Mr. Persimmons of Cully. She’ll hope to be compromised; I know her. And she knows she may have to go on a journey, but not where or why.”

Manasseh nodded. “But why take him?” he insisted.

“Because I owe him for a debt to the Sabbath,” Gregory answered. “Because we haven’t often the chance of such a pure and entire oblation. It’s wonderful the way he’s taken to me, and I think we shall make him a lord of power before we have done. Isn’t that worth more than sending him silly? And Jessie can be dropped anywhere if she’s inconvenient.” He walked across, to the table. “And what about you?” he asked. “Do we take this with us, or do you still want to destroy it now?”

“No,” Manasseh said. “I have thought of it, and we will take it. There may be something in what you said.”

“What I said?” Gregory asked, whistling softly as he surveyed the Cup.

“We may be able to use it for destruction — to destroy through it,” Manasseh said. “I have dreamt that we might learn to destroy earth and heaven through it, or at least all intelligible experience of them among men. It is death as well as life, and who knows how far death may go? They talk of their Masses, you talk of your Black Mass, but there may be such a Mass of Death said with this as shall blast the world for ever. But you and I are not great enough for that.”

Gregory answered softly, “I think you may be right, Manasseh. Bear with me, for I am young in these things. I know the current of desire in which all things move, and I have guided it a little as I will. But I see there are deeper things below.” He looked at the Greek. “And what do you say,” he asked, “who are older than we?”

The Greek answered, his eyes fixed on the Graal: “All things are indivisible and one. You cannot wholly destroy and you cannot wholly live, but you can change mightily and for ever as any of our reckoning goes. Even I cannot see down infinity. Make it agreeable to your lusts while the power is yours, for there are secret ways down which it may pass even now and you shall not hold it.”

Gregory smiled, and filliped the Graal with a finger. “Do you know,” he said, “I should like to annoy the Archdeacon a little.” He stood still suddenly and cried out: “And there is a way by which it may be done. I have tried it, and I know. This is the circle of all souls, and I will gather them and marry them as I please. I will bring them from this world and from another and I will bind the lost with the living till the living itself be lost.”

Manasseh moved nearer to him. “Tell me,” he said; “you have a great thought.”

“I have a thought that is pleasant to my mind,” Gregory said, “and this is what we will do. There went out from among us lately by my act a weak, wretched, unhappy soul that sought to find its god and in its last days returned to me and was utterly mine. It was willing to die when I slew it, and in the shadows it waits still upon my command. We will draw this back, and we will marry it to this priest, body and soul, so that he shall live with it by day and by night, and come indeed in the end to know not which is he. And let us see then if he will war against us for the Graal.”

“This you can do if you will,” Manasseh said, “for I have seen spirits recalled, though not by means of the Graal. But can you bind it so closely to the priest?”

“Assuredly you can,” the Greek said, “if you have the conditions. But they are exact. You must have that body here into which you will bring that soul in contact — I do not know if it could be done at a distance, but I do not think it has been done, and I am sure you have no time to try. And you must have that soul at your command, and I think you have. And you must have a means of passage, and you have it in this Cup. And you must have a very strong desire, and this you have, both of you, for this is at once possession and destruction. And you are the better for knowing the worst, and this I do, and I will set my power with yours if you choose.”

“We must have the body here,” Gregory said. “But — will he come?”

“I do not see why he should not come if he is asked,” the Greek said. “Cannot Manasseh bring him with some tale of the woman?”

“To-morrow night is the last night we can be sure of having in England,” Manasseh answered, “if we wish to escape with both the Graal and the child. But he might come for that.”

They were silent, standing or sitting around the Cup, where it seemed to await their decision in a helpless bondage. They were still silent some minutes later when a sudden knock sounded on the door of the shop. Gregory started, and both he and Manasseh glanced inquiringly at the Greek, who said casually: “It may be someone for medicine or it may be they have followed Gregory. Go you, Manasseh. If they ask for me, tell them I am away from home to-night; and if for Gregory, tell them he is not here.”

Manasseh obeyed, pulling the door to behind him. Gregory smiled at the Greek. “Do you really give them medicine?” he asked.

The Greek shrugged his shoulders. “Why not?” he said. “I don’t poison ants; they may as well live as die. But there are not many who will come.”

They heard Manasseh cross the shop and open the door, then several exclamations at once in different voices. Then a gay voice, at the sound of which Gregory started and looked round, said: “Why, if it isn’t the doctor himself! Now this is fortunate. My dear doctor, we’ve been talking about you all day. Let’s see, were you properly introduced to the Duke? No, oh, no, don’t shut the door. No, I beg you. We’ve come all the way from Fardles — Castra Parvulorum, you know; the camp of the children — to ask you a question — two questions. Is Gregory here by any chance? That’s not one of them. No, really — sorry to push, but . . . Thank you ever so much; you can shut it now.”

Under this rush of talk had sounded Manasseh’s exclamatory protests and the scuffle of feet. Gregory put out a hand to the Graal, but the Greek made a motion with his hand and checked him. “How many are there?” he asked softly. Gregory tiptoed to the narrow opening and peeped through. “Two, I think,” he whispered, returning. “Mornington and the Duke. I can’t see or hear anyone else. Hadn’t we better move that?”

The Greek turned a face of sudden malignity on him. “Fool,” he said, “will you always run from your enemies?” He stood up as he spoke and began to move the few chairs noiselessly back against the wall.

In the shop, Mornington was plying Manasseh with conversation. “We felt so curious about the Graal,” he said, “and, to tell you the truth, so curious about what you’d done to Barbara Rackstraw, that we simply had to come and ask yo............