The Haunting of Toby Jugg
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How is it that during the past hundred years so little interest has been taken in the Devil's activities? The Haunting of Toby Jugg suggests an answer. Woven into a tale of modern love and courage, of intrigue, hypnotism and Satan-worship, it propounds a theory that under a new disguise the Devil is still intensely active―that through his chosen emissaries he is nearer than ever before to achieving victory in his age-old struggle to become, in fact, as well as in name, the Prince of this World.
were all right.' 'I I had a nightmare too,' I gulped. It seemed the only thing to say. I could not possibly expect her to believe that Helmuth had done a Pied Piper of Hamelin on me with all the spiders in the place; but I snuffled out that I had dreamed that a horde of them was swarming all over me. 'There, there,' she murmured. 'It's all over now, and you'll soon forget it. But I'm very glad I followed my impulse to come up, all the same.' Then she perched herself on the edge of the bed,
read Dracula and, at the time, I had taken all the stuff about vampires and the undead as pure invention; now I thought of it again in a very different light. The gaping tomb had been behind me as I knelt; and when I swivelled round I had looked across it and all round it, but not down into it. About half the stone lid had remained intact and the open portion of the grave, into which the rest of the lid had fallen, had been obscured by deep shadow. It seemed possible that I had aroused some
receiving punishment; and I can look back on my schooldays as happy ones which is more than a lot of chaps can say. All that I owe to Julia; and I certainly do not hold her responsible for anything I may have missed through the bad elements of the Weylands system, for I am convinced that of those she cannot have known enough to appreciate their possible results. Helmuth was not at Weylands when I first went there. He did not arrive until the summer of 1933, and during his first year I had
them would have, had there been anything to see.' 'Perhaps neither of them is psychic,' I argued a little weakly. "That might be the explanation,' she shrugged, 'but I don't think so. I have been at séances where trumpets and tambourines have floated in the air, and others where the medium has emitted large quantities of ectoplasm; and it is not just one or two people who see such manifestations, but the whole audience and sometimes some of them are convinced sceptics before the séance starts.'
conjured up, but I had to admit to myself that his grim prognostications were based on a perfectly possible and logical sequence of events. For a bit we remained silent, then I said: 'Well, if you are right, I'll be in a pretty mess. But I suppose the State will take care of cripples?' 'Oh yes,' he smiled cynically. 'You'll get your keep in an institution and a pound a week. You might do quite a lot better, though, if you are prepared to follow my advice. All I have been endeavouring to show