The Case Against Satan by Ray Russell Page A

then the parish priest said he wanted to have a look at him. And when he had looked at the poor man, he came away and sat himself down and wrote a letter to the bishop—we had no such thing as a telephone in our town in those days—and then he waited, our priest did, sat and waited for an answer to come by the post. It came, finally. Some kind of permission it was, do you see. And the priest went into the jail cell and oh, then the screaming that had been done before was like whispering, it was. Because the sounds that came out of that place were like the unholy ones down in Hell twisting in the fire. It went on and on for days. Nobody in the town could sleep; you felt like clapping your hands to your ears all day long and all night too.
    â€œThen just like that it stopped. Ten days later, at one in the afternoon, it just stopped. The poor tortured creature was dead. But his face, they say, was calm and full of peace for the first time in any man’s memory.” Mrs. Farley had been looking past the men, through them, her eyes blurred with remembrance; but now she looked back at the Bishop. “Yes, Your Excellency, I have heard that word, exorcism.”
    The Bishop said, “Susan Garth—”
    â€œI understand, Your Excellency.”
    â€œAnd you don’t find it hard to believe?”
    â€œHard to believe? I heard that man scream all day and all night, Your Excellency. I
heard
him. No human thing screams like that, and no animal neither.”
    The Bishop nodded, then looked up at Gregory. No words passed between them.
    Gregory spoke to Mrs. Farley: “Then you see why we think you should go away from here for a little while?”
    â€œYes, Father,” said Mrs. Farley, “but if it’s all the same to you, I’d rather stay. I wouldn’t feel right about leaving you to shift for yourself at a time like this. Sure, who would be fixing your meals and picking up after you and seeing to it that you got your sleep? And I’m thinking, strong men that you are, both of you, an extra set of hands might be useful somewhere along the line.”
    â€œNo doubt of that,” said the Bishop. “But we were thinking of your safety.”
    â€œWhat is there to be afraid of, Your Excellency?”
    â€œAs you know so well, Mrs. Farley, the thing that inhabits that poor girl may be the Enemy himself.”
    â€œ
That
for him,” she said, snapping her stubby fingers. “A great boob he is to pit himself against a holy Father and a bishop of the Church, with the very House of God next door. The nerve of him! He’ll turn tail and run back to where he came from before you have the first words out of your mouths, if he knows what’s good for him. I’m not afraid of that one. Nothing but scum he is; scum and lowlife; stand up to him, put the fear of God in him, and he’ll whine like a little puppy. If you please, Your Excellency, I’d much rather stay.”
    â€œYou may stay, Mrs. Farley,” said the Bishop.
    â€œAh, thank you, Your Excellency,” said Mrs. Farley. “And would you and the Father be wanting a bite of something now?”
    â€œNot now, Mrs. Farley. Father Sargent and I would like to remain undisturbed in the parlor here for about half an hour. As you leave, you may lock the door.”
    â€œYes, Your Excellency. Just call me when you need me.” She left the room, and they heard the key turning in the lock.
    The Bishop said, “You’re probably hungry, Gregory, but I thought you’d prefer to fast for a short time. It’s customary.”
    â€œYes, of course.”
    â€œI’ll join you.” The Bishop slowly settled into a chair, his face shadowed by trouble. “Gregory,” he said, after a moment.
    â€œYes?”
    â€œPerhaps we should not go through with it after all.”
    â€œWhat?” He walked across the room and sat down close to the Bishop. “You say that?