‘“Astarte, or Ishtar, or Ashtoreth, or whatever you choose to call her. I prefer the Phoenician name of Astarte. There is, I believe, one known Grove of Astarte in this country—in the North on the Wall. I have no evidence, but I like to believe that we have a true and authentic Grove of Astarte here. Here, within this dense circle of trees, sacred rites were performed.”
‘“Sacred rites,” murmured Diana Ashley. Her eyes had a dreamy faraway look. “What were they, I wonder?”
‘“Not very reputable by all accounts,” said Captain Rogers with a loud unmeaning laugh. “Rather hot stuff, I imagine.”
‘Haydon paid no attention to him.
‘“In the centre of the Grove there should be a Temple,” he said. “I can’t run to Temples, but I have indulged in a little fancy of my own.”
‘We had at that moment stepped out into a little clearing in the centre of the trees. In the middle of it was something not unlike a summerhouse made of stone. Diana Ashley looked inquiringly at Haydon.
‘“I call it The Idol House,” he said. “It is the Idol House of Astarte.”
‘He led the way up to it. Inside, on a rude ebony pillar, there reposed a curious little image representing a woman with crescent horns, seated on a lion.
‘“Astarte of the Phoenicians,” said Haydon, “the Goddess of the Moon.”
‘“The Goddess of the Mooon,” cried Diana. “Oh, do let us have a wild orgy tonight. Fancy dress. And we will come out here in the moonlight and celebrate the rites of Astarte.”
‘I made a sudden movement and Elliot Haydon, Richard’s cousin, turned quickly to me.
‘“You don’t like all this, do you, Padre?” he said.
‘“No,” I said gravely. “I don’t.”
‘He looked at me curiously. “But it is only tomfoolery. Dick can’t know that this really is a sacred grove. It is just a fancy of his; he likes to play with the idea. And anyway, if it were—”
‘“If it were?”
‘“Well—” he laughed uncomfortably. “You don’t believe in that sort of thing, do you? You, a parson.”
‘“I am not sure that as a parson I ought not to believe in it.”
‘“But that sort of thing is all finished and done with.”
‘“I am not so sure,” I said musingly. “I only know this: I am not as a rule a sensitive man to atmosphere, but ever since I entered this grove of trees I have felt a curious impression and sense of evil and menace all round me.”
‘He glanced uneasily over his shoulder.
‘“Yes,” he said, “it is—it is queer, somehow. I know what you mean but I suppose it is only our imagination makes us feel like that. What do you say, Symonds?”
‘The doctor was silent a minute or two before he replied. Then he said quietly:
‘“I don’t like it. I can’t tell you why. But somehow or other, I don’t like it.”
‘At that moment Violet Mannering came across to me.
‘“I hate this place,” she cried. “I hate it. Do let’s get out of it.”
‘We moved away and the others followed us. Only Diana Ashley lingered. I turned my head over my shoulder and saw her standing in front of the Idol House gazing earnestly at the image within it.
‘The day was an unusually hot and beautiful one and Diana Ashley’s suggestion of a Fancy Dress party that evening was received with general favour. The usual laughing and whispering and frenzied secret sewing took place and when we all made our appearance for dinner there were the usual outcries of merriment. Rogers and his wife were Neolithic hut dwellers—explaining the sudden lack of hearth rugs. Richard Haydon called himself a Phoenician sailor, and his cousin was a Brigand Chief, Dr Symonds was a chef, Lady Mannering was a hospital nurse, and her daughter was a Circassian slave. I myself was arrayed somewhat too warmly as a monk. Diana Ashley came down last and was somewhat of a disappointment to all of us, being wrapped in a shapeless black domino.
‘“The Unknown,” she declared airily. “That is what I am. Now for goodness’ sake let’s go in to dinner.”
‘After dinner we went outside. It was a lovely night, warm and soft, and the moon was rising.
‘We wandered about and chatted and the time passed quickly enough. It must have been an hour later when we realized that Diana Ashley was not with us.
‘“Surely she has not gone to bed,” said Richard Haydon.
‘Violet Mannering shook her head.
‘“Oh, no,” she said. “I saw her going off in that direction about a quarter of an hour ago.” She pointed as she spoke towards the grove of trees that showed black and shadowy in the moonlight.
‘“I wonder what she is up to,” said Richard Haydon, “some devilment, I swear. Let’s go and see.”
‘We all trooped off together, somewhat curious as to what Miss Ashley had been up to. Yet I, for one, felt a curious reluctance to enter that dark foreboding belt of trees. Something stronger than myself seemed to be holding me back and urging me not to enter. I felt more definitely convinced than ever of the essential evilness of the spot. I think that some of the others experienced the same sensations that I did, though they would have been loath to admit it. The trees were so closely planted that the moonlight could not penetrate. There were a dozen soft sounds all round us, whisperings and sighings. The feeling was eerie in the extreme, and by common consent we all kept close together.
‘Suddenly we came out into the open clearing in the middle of the grove and stood rooted to the spot in amazement, for there, on the threshold of the Idol House, stood a shimmering figure wrapped tightly round in diaphanous gauze and with two crescent horns rising from the dark masses of her hair.
‘“My God!” said Richard Haydon, and the sweat sprang out on his brow.
‘But Violet Mannering was sharper.
‘“Why, it’s Diana,” she exclaimed. “What has she done to herself? Oh, she looks quite different somehow!”
‘The figure in the doorway raised her hands. She took a step forward and chanted in a high sweet voice.
‘“I am the Priestess of Astarte,” she crooned. “Beware how you approach me, for I hold death in my hand.”
‘“Don’t do it, dear,” protested Lady Mannering. “You give us the creeps, you really do.”
‘Haydon sprang forward towards her.
‘“My God, Diana!” he cried. “You are wonderful.”
‘My eyes were accustomed to the moonlight now and I could see more plainly. She did, indeed,
