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s clothing and a form for him to discharge himself。'
As the two of them left the room Sabat seated himself on the edge of the bed。 He was weak and dizzy but he permitted himself a smile。 Another round against Quentin's efforts to immobilise and undermine his psychic powers had been won。 But the real battle lay ahead。
'You really ought not to have e back。' The Reverend Storton dribbled down the stem of his pipe and shook his head in disapproval； the way he did during his sermons on the wickedness of the world。 'But if you won't go back to hospital； perhaps I can offer a bed here。 Since my dear wife passed away I have ample sleeping acmodation in this huge rambling place。'
'I'd be pleased to accept your hospitality；' Sabat smiled； 'but not to convalesce。 'The 〃Dun Cow〃 will not be operating residentially for some time to e； I fear； and I shall need a headquarters。 But； Reverend； I would appreciate my return here not being advertised。 People will find out soon enough。 Oh； and I'm dreadfully sorry about your Domesday Book。 I'm afraid it has gone for good in the fire。'
'It is a small price to pay for your life。' Storton made gooey noises in his pipe in an attempt to clear some obstruction which was preventing it from drawing to his satisfaction； 'but did you manage to find anything out from its pages before it was destroyed？'
Briefly Sabat told him of his discovery concerning William Gardiner。 Storton's eyes widened and he abandoned the task of blowing down his pipe。 'How awful；' he muttered when his visitor had finished； 'how perfectly awful。 And you are convinced； Mr Sabat； that they 。。。 they actually called up 。。。？'
'The most powerful evil entity which it is possible to summon。' Sabat nodded。 'One that does not return empty…handed。 The man Horace； who is now in a mental hospital； knew this which was why he offered a prostitute； Sheila Dowson； along with the dead virgin。 He realised that if he was successful his Master would demand a life and he wasn't going to take any chances on any of themselves being singled out。 By the way； can you throw any light on a big man called Royston； I don't know his second name； who is now running the coven and appears far more knowledgeable； powerful and dangerous than ever friend Horace was？'
Maurice Storton shook his head； pursed his lips。 'No； I'm afraid I can't。 Had you not better request the police to trace him？'
'No；' Sabat smiled wanly； Tm afraid Detective Inspector Plowden has already made clear his views on my investigations； so not wishing to be hindered by petty restrictions I shall work alone。'
'And what is your next step？'
'My ultimate aim；' Sabat replied； 'is to find the bones of William Gardiner and exorcise them； thereby destroying the evil which festers in them。 But there are many things to do before then。 I must find the man called Royston and his new temple of devil worship； but to do that I shall have to venture on to the astral plane again and to do that I must restore myself to full health； a matter of a few days； hopefully。 In my present state of weakness I would be easy prey for the vultures of darkness。 However； I think my initial task will be to cleanse your churchyard of the evil which exists there； to render it a place of peace and quietness again； somewhere which can never again be used by the followers of the Left Hand Path。 I must exorcise it； Reverend！'
The other nodded。 Once he'd attended an exorcism service； a few prayers； muttered incantations by the exorcist。 The curate's personal opinion was that the whole affair was a lot of mumbo jumbo； nothing to get excited about even though it appeared to have done the trick。
But Sabat knew different； realised and accepted the dangers。 And this time they were going to be increased a hundredfold。 It was his big test； his first direct confrontation with the dark forces； apart from that psychic attack upon himself； since Quentin's soul had merged with his own。 On that occasion in his own home he had fought and overe a single evil entity； next time he would be challenging the evil powers in force； a single mortal outnumbered； relying on just his own faith and strength。 It was suicidal； his soul at stake with Quentin ready to pounce and aid his own kind。
Sabat looked at his watch。 2。30pm。 'Now； Reverend； I'll take advantage of your kind offer and get some rest。 I'd be obliged if you would see that I'm not disturbed for the next six hours。 And then I shall ask you to pray for me while I go alone to St Adrian's churchyard in an attempt to drive out the evil that began with the interment of William Gardiner and has grown in power over the years。 It is a battle I must win for a lot of reasons。'
CHAPTER FOUR
SABAT AWOKE just as the last rays of the setting sun were making weak patterns on the wall above his bed； squares and diamonds that faded even as he lay watching them。 Then came dusk； darkening the room。
Something he was aware of the moment he sat up and swung his legs to the floor； a freedom of movement unhindered by pain； his head no longer throbbed and the earlier bouts of dizziness had not returned。 He gave way to a momentary feeling of euphoria； the knowledge that his deep untroubled sleep； during which his astral had remained close to him； had healed him as effectively as that doctor at the hospital and all his modern drugs could have done over a period of weeks。 Not miracle healing； just a matter of mind over body。 And Sabat was ready for battle。
He dressed slowly with the ease of one preparing for a social evening； brushing flecks of dust from his somewhat crumpled and singed dark jacket； checking his 。38 to ensure that it was fully loaded。 The crucifix； the garlic cloves； he recalled how they had bounced harmlessly off Quentin that time but that had been his own fault； a wavering of his faith just when he needed it most。 Had his faith been strong enough then his brother would have been destroyed forever。 Grimly he recalled a childhood fable； a story his mother had once read him about Sinbad the Sailor； how Sinbad had been accursed； pelled to carry that vile Old Man of the Sea on his back wherever he went。 Little did the God…fearing Mrs Sabat realise that one day that fate would befall her own two sons in a deadly battle of their souls。
As Sabat went downstairs the Reverend Maurice Storton opened the door of his study and shuffled out into the hall。 The old clergyman looked tired and strained； a pathetic figure nearing the end of his days。 Yet he still retained an expression of stubbornness and determination； the will to go down fighting。 He was not going to surrender his pride easily。
'Mr Sabat；' he said； 'perhaps it would be best if we both went along tonight。'
'No；' Sabat gripped him by the hand； 'not tonight； Reverend。 You can help me best by staying here and praying。'
'It is very dangerous； isn't it？' A sudden flicker of fear in those old grey eyes。 'More dangerous than even you have told me。'
'Yes；' there was nothing to be gained by trying to cover up the full extent of the per