The Satanist by Dennis Wheatley

part of the evening the false personality she had had to build up had made her feel so awkward with him that she knew that she was far from making herself a charming and interesting companion. She had even begun to fear that her plan to ensnare and pay out this plausible roué who had brought such misery upon her was about to becomestill-born, and that he would never ask her out again. But now, here he was already showing deep concern for her, and anxious to become her protector in case she ran into danger. All the same, she had no intention of delaying for a single day if she was given the opportunity to follow up this possible lead to Teddy’s murder. And if Barney was left to wonder what was happening to her on Saturday night, so much the better. That was just the sort of thing to make him all the keener.
    She shook her head. ‘No, I’m afraid I can’t do that. If I once turned down an offer from Ratnadatta he might not ask me again. But I assure you I’m perfectly capable of taking care of myself. And now, I think I ought to be getting home.’
    ‘O.K. then! With a light-hearted shrug he appeared to dismiss the matter, but after a moment he added, ‘I haven’t enjoyed dancing so much with anyone for a long time. If your friend the Fakir hasn’t turned you into a pretty white nannygoat, what about having dinner with me here again on Sunday?’
    Mary smiled back at him. ‘I enjoyed it too, and I’d like to do that. You’ll have to take the risk, though, that by then I’ll have acquired the power to turn you into a horrid black toad.’
    ‘I’m awfully flattered that you should feel like that about me!’
    She gave him a puzzled look. ‘Unless you’re being sarcastic, I don’t quite see what you mean.’
    His eyes suddenly danced with devilment, and his teeth flashed in a grin. ‘Surely you know that a witch has to take her familiar to live with her?’
    The waiter brought the bill at that moment; so Barney did not see her flush, as she thought angrily, ‘He hasn’t changed a bit. How like him to seize the first chance to throw out that sort of suggestion under cover of a joke.’ And it was that angry thought which was largely responsible for precipitating her into a stupid action very soon afterwards.
    Ten minutes later, as their taxi moved off, Barney, withthe assurance of a man who is rarely repulsed by women, put an arm round her shoulders. She let him, and predicted to herself what his next move would be-he would begin at once to tell her how beautiful she was, then when they came opposite the Ritz he would attempt to kiss her and, if she allowed him to, by the time they reached Hyde Park Corner he would put his free hand on her knee.
    In her first two assumptions she proved right, but as he drew her towards him she swiftly jerked her head away, and snapped, ‘Stop that! How dare you treat me as if I were a tart!’
    Next moment she could have bitten her tongue out. It was an absurd thing to have said, simply because he had tried to kiss her, and she had been impelled to say it only because she was already visualising in her mind the sort of thing she expected him to attempt later, if she let him.
    Sitting back quickly, he exclaimed: ‘What on earth are you talking about? Treat you like a tart! I’ve done nothing of the kind.’
    ‘Yes you have.’ She took refuge in angry contradiction. ‘To try to make love to a woman who has given you not the least encouragement, and whom you hardly know, the very first moment you are alone with her, is as good as telling her to her face that you think she’s the sort who can be had for the price of a dinner.’
    ‘Nonsense!’ said Barney, firmly. ‘Men don’t kiss tarts in taxis. They wait till they get back to their flats, do what there is to do, give them a few quid, and, nine times out of ten, go home and forget all about them. Whereas I want to see you again. You know I do; and I wouldn’t be such a fool as to spoil my chances of our becoming