"Julia, shut up," said the Padre. "Boys are out of season. Surely you must know there's an V in the month. For shame! Go away and powder your face."
The Griffin retreated sobbing. "Nobody loves me!" Sniff! "No-body loves me!"
"But all the same, young man," said the Padre, "if I were you, Storm, I'd disappear. You'd really better go and look after your mother. I think she may be needing you, at once."
Storm willed himself back to Earth, and he was there. He willed back to the after cabin of the barge, and he was there.
VII
Still in his dream, Storm stood in the after cabin. He saw his father held by evil men, struggling to escape, screaming for mercy. The curved wall of the cabin, the bulkhead forward shutting off the cargo hold, were like dark mist, form without substance, and through them and within obscene and awful beasts crowded the air, their red eyes gloating upon James Fright, who writhed and shrieked, trying to get back to his body. That body of his lay sprawled upon the table, face downwards, arms outstretched. Uncle Joey was riding father's body, his legs locked round the loins, his arms with a strangle hold about the throat, while he looked up at Storm as though disturbed by his coming.
"Hello! mammie's darling!" he jeered. "Come to see the fun? And then you'll go sneaking to mammie? Now you watch—all done by kindness. One—two—three! There!"
Uncle Joey entered the vacant body, and father, held by his captors, was shrieking blasphemies, calling Storm a coward because he did not come instantly to the rescue.
Storm was not concerned for his father's worries. He knew that Uncle Joey was returned from the dead to earth for no good purpose, that he was dangerous, and that his own mother lay there asleep, helpless at this demon's mercy. He sprang to the bunk to guard her, to save her, but when he looked at the sleeping body he breathed most fervent thanks to Heaven. Mother was away in Dreamland. Only her body lay there tenantless. Should he call her? Nay, not into mortal peril. He put forth the whole power of his will to keep his mother away, then turned to fight the demon.
Uncle Joey, clad in the stolen body, rose from the table stiffly, groping at the air, unable now to see the astral world, to descry Storm on guard beside the bunk, or James Fright struggling in the clutches of the men who held him, or the awful monsters of the Pit which crowded in upon the nightmare scene. Only he whipped the sheath knife from his belt and reeled across to the bunk where he saw Mrs. Fright asleep. Storm tried to seize Uncle Joey, but his arms clutched thin air. The re-embodied demon sprang straight through him as though through mist, and yelling exultation, shouting with laughter, he plunged the blade again and again into the woman's body. Storm could do nothing. Sick with horror, he leaned against the panels, but his arm went through them as though they were but mist.