Death by the Mistletoe by Angus MacVicar Page A

There is a passage in The Book of Dalriada which explains … which explains — ’’
    Suddenly Professor Campbell had ceased to talk.
    An eerie stillness descended on the room, like the stillness which immediately precedes the appearance on the stage of a star performer. The whole atmosphere became impregnated with a hidden tense menace. The old man’s cheeks were ashen, and his eyes stared unseeingly at Eileen’s vacant chair.
    “Who are the people of Kintyre whom you have identified as members of the cult?” It was Mr. Archibald MacLean who had spoken again, his words harsh with impatience and a nameless dread. “Quick, Professor! Tell us! Quick! Before it is too late!”
    Professor Campbell clawed at his stiff white collar and half rose in his chair. His mouth worked convulsively. His round chest heaved and fell as he breathed in painful gusts.
    “What in heaven’s name —  ” began Dr. Black.
    The Professor mouthed something inaudible, and then his speech came in a torrent.
    “I cannot! I cannot!” he shrieked. “They are strangling me! They are coming for me! I cannot fight their magic — ”
    James’s horrified eyes were suddenly glued on the black oblongs of the bay windows behind their host and a chill finger of terror ran downward along his spine. Slowly the sashes were swinging inwards.
    *
    Those who sat that night around the dining-table in Dalbeg House have never been able to give a rational idea of the paralytic sensation which possessed their minds and bodies during the next few moments. Professor Campbell himself, when he discussed the problem some time later, gave the feeling a certain high-sounding and scientific name; but even he was so unacquainted with the science of hypnotism that he could only say that their brief period of inactivity had been caused by some tremendous effort of will on the part of one of the beings that they presently saw. It was, in any case, proof positive of the magic power possessed by Na Daoine Deadh Ghinh , and removed any doubts which may have lingered in the minds of his guests concerning the veracity of his narrative.
    It seemed that in a single instant three gigantic men were standing at the back of Professor Campbell’s chair. In the centre of the group was a white-robed figure, with a face, unlike any human face that James or the others had ever seen before. It was thin as death, and the high cheekbones stood out in white relief. The beaked nose and narrow chin were prominent, and white teeth gleamed between bared red lips. But it was the eyes which held the Professor’s guests motionless and terrified. They glared out beneath shaggy eyebrows like the eyes of a huge snake.
    On either side of this creature was an unknown giant — hawk-faced, dark — and O’Hare.
    “Come!” said the white-robed figure.
    A rustle ran round the table as if the guests strove to break the power that held them immovable in their chairs.
    “Come!” said the tall, bony man once more.,
    And Professor Campbell rose as if in a trance, and walked out through the windows into the darkness of the garden, led by O’Hare and his companion.
    The spell of the presence of the white-robed figure still held the seven men grouped around the table in a state of indecision, and James saw the eyes in the death-mask face staring straight into his own. The man in the white garment raised two long arms, as a minister raises his arms to pronounce a benediction, and the folds of his robe fell in long, broad streamers from his bony, hairless wrists. His mighty voice boomed out across the room, and as he spoke it was as if a blinding light flashed athwart James’s vision.
    “The curse of Balor be upon you, wanderer of the flaming head!”
    He turned and had almost vanished into the darkness beyond the windows, when Detective-Inspector McKay acted at last.
    The policeman shot from his pocket, and the two vicious revolver shots were deafening in the confined space. The flashes spurted from the