The Creeping Thing: Part Eleven

In the bright glare of morning, the shattered ruins of the derelict house looked very stark indeed. Rubble lay all about, and it was clear that no-one could have survived the building's collapse. Not that Mr. Lemon could have survived the attack by the Creeping thing, for that matter. But the exact circumstances would probably not be known until some curious person saw the twisted hand that stuck out from under the rubble of the collapsed building. Or the distorted, blood-stained, claw-like nails on the end of it, the long hair that lent it a bestial aspect.

"So," Ms. Madison turned to the Green Man, "why did you send me up to Llanthorn place?"

"I'd had my eye on Mr. Lemon for a while," the Green Man explained. "Lemon was partner in an investment firm that was revealed to have been investing in some very dubious biotechnology - including a man-primate hybrid. His partner had been about to give evidence against him when he was killed at Llanthorn place by some unknown creature. The Police were going to take him in for questioning, and I believed he would attempt to escape somehow."

"And the creeping thing?" the lovely blonde asked.

"The abomination created by those unethical experiments," the Green Man told her. He had trained it to be afraid of strong light - hence the searchlight. I realised that when he tried to use the creature to attack us, rather than shooting."

"So by shooting out the searchlight we made the creature attack him rather than us!" Ms. Madison gasped. "What do we do?"

"We disappear," the Green Man told his companion. "The news comes from London that Nora was delayed, andthey conclude that you were an impostor. By the time the collapse of this house is investigated, the body of Mr. Lemon will be completely unrecognisable - just another victim of the Creeping Thing. And no-one will ever know the extent of Mr. Lemon's evil."

"What about his wife?" Ms. Madison asked.

"She was the one who knew her husband had killed his partner," the Green Man told Ms. Madison. "It was she who contacted me."

The Creeping Thing: Part Ten

As the red eyes moved closer, and the scrabbling of the Creeping Thing came closer, Ms. Madison grasped the Green Man's arm, her breathing erratic, eyes speaking of fear. The Green Man turned, raising his torch and his gun.

"Watch Lemon!" the Green Man instructed Ms. Madison. "And turn out that light!"

Taking a good pull at herself, Ms. Madison raised her gun, firing at the powerful searchlight.

"No!" Lemon screamed, as the light went out.

"Now hold me!" the Green Man yelled at Ms. Madison, as the breathing of the Creeping Thing came still closer. "Hold me as close as you can, Lynette! Hold on as if your life depended on it!"

"All right," she chuckled, as she followed his instructions. "But Mike 'll be mad if he finds out. What do we do now?"

The well-dressed blonde clung to the Green Man, closing her eyes and fighting to master herself. Any moment, she expected to feel the claws of the Creeping Thing on her back.

But nothing of the sort happened. The thing rans straight past them, before springing. The scream that came from the far end of the room told her that the Creeping Thing had turned on its master. As the Creeping Thing savaged Lemon, the Green Man and Ms. Madison retreated, keeping the torch beam on.

As they hurried back down the drive, towards the Green Man's mighty car, Ms. Madison heard a low roar. Behind them, something lit up the night sky. Turning, she saw the old house in ruins, ablaze from end to end.

"Lemon must have set a bomb," the Green Man told his secretary. "Just enough time for him to get clear, while the Creeping Thing finished us off. Well," he sighed, "now the creature, whatever it was, is gone for ever, destroyed with the evil mind that used it."

"Are you sure?" Ms. Madison sounded worried.

"We'll need to make sure in the morning," the Green Man told her. "There's a restaurant up in the mountains that's open all night."

"You wait there," she spoke with feeling. "I'm going to bed."

The Creeping Thing: Part Nine

There followed a breathless silence, as the Green Man and Ms. Madison stood in the doorway, looking at the seated figure, holding up their hands to shield their faces. At last,as their eyes adujusted to the light, they could make out the pale, bloated features of a man in black, a skull-cap on his head.


"Welcome to my hiding-place," he spoke again, voice soft, amused. "I see that the reputation of this house did not deter you."


"The reputation that this house is evil?" The Green Man laughed, shaking his head. "You and I both know that evil comes from the hearts of men, not buildings, and not monsters. Men."


"A crusader," the man laughed. "No wonder you wear a mask. But your young associate is unmasked. Is that not a weakness?"

"No." The Green Man shook his head again. "Once someone did kill one of my associates. No-one has done so since. Not since the man's body was discovered." The voice of the Green Man was grim, unyielding. "But youwear a deeper mask - Mr. Lemon!"


Ms. Madison started violently, as did the figure in the chair.


"How?" the man in the chair demanded. "Lemon was found dead, like the others, his face horribly mutilated."

"A body was found and identified as Lemon," the Green Man spoke softly. "But you and I know that the body was that of someone else. You are Mr. Lemon."


"Yes!" the figure laughed. "I am Mr. Lemon, a man the world believes to be dead!"

"And so you can avoid the charges of murder and fraud which you are due to be arrested on." The Green Man nodded grimly. "You thought to escape the justice which is due to you. But no man can escape the vengeance of the Green Man."

"No man?" Lemon laughed. "Look behind you, Green Man!"

Ms. Madison let out a gasp of shock. There, looking at them, was a pair of glowing red eyes.

"Green Man!" Lemon laughed, "meet the creeping thing, my terror!"

Closer and closer crept the ghastly thing. Ms. Madison could smell its fetid breath. When it howled, she could only scream.

The Creeping Thing: Part Eight

The Green Man stopped his car at the end of the drive which led to the decaying house. Its bulk showed up through the gloom, somehow very sinister and frightening. Built in the Tudor style, it clearly belonged to the early part of the twentieth century. While the Green Man stepped away from the car, drawing his gun, Ms. Madison put on lace-up walking boots. In the bleak landscape of the moor, she felt decidedly out of place in her party dress. She left her handbag behind, after drawing a little silver automatic from it. She meant to be ready for whatever evil lurked in that house.

Still, she hurried to catch up with the Green Man, a little beathless with fear. She had heard the thing that lurked in that building, hidden in the shadows, and she had no wish to meet it close up, alone.

"The house looks deserted," the Green Man observed, still holding fast to his gun. "But it would, even if it was actually inhabited. "That way the people would stay away, especially with the noises that you described.

"The noises I heard twice!" Ms. Madison bridled, "and other people heard it, in case you think I was just getting over-wrought."

"I know you better," the Green Man chuckled. "If you heard something, it was there. Now, come on, Ms. Madison. We've work to do."

The Green Man and his companion made their way to the door, which hung open on broken hinges. Ms. Madison went ahead of the Green Man, if only so she would be seen if she was attacked.

The rooms were mostly roofless, open to the sky. But the rooms to the right of the hallway were still roofed. It was into this section that they moved, the Green Man flicking on a torch.

"This is lonesome," Ms. Madison whispered. "I suppose it's nothing like that old place Mr. Rake and I went to when we fancied a spot of quiet necking. I sat down on the stairs but they fell on me."

"Which explains one of your rare absences," the Green Man chuckled. "I trust your leaving Mr. Rake at the Savoy wasn't too difficult."

"It was a rescue," Ms. Madison sighed. "We were fighting. He wants me to give up this job and marry him."

"And you?" the Green Man chuckled.

Before Ms. Madison could answer, the thing howled, close at hand. Ms. Madison jumped, her free hand grabbing the Green Man's arm.

"I'm thinking that might not be a bad idea right now," she trembled slightly, as the Green Man kicked open a door. At once, a great light went on, blinding the duo.

There, seated in the room, was the figure of a man.

"Come in," he spoke softly. "I've been expecting you."

The Creeping Thing: Part Seven

Ms. Madison spent the rest of the day getting to know her fellow guests - at least all that part of the day which was not spent talking to police. She found them to be the predicatable mixed bag. Two couples; John and Mary Ivers and Robert and Joan Key; three unattached young men; Alan Lane, Robin Footeman and Joseph Chambers; and four young women, apart from herself, Mary Martin, Jocelyn Lake and two sisters by the name of Sant, Lillian and Irene. They were rich, idle and scared of the thing out on the moor. She just knew that the Green Man was the only person who could help them. They were quite unable to help themselves.

The night saw another party, Ms. Madison changing into another smart party dress. She had to sing a few songs, but no more than that. However the Green Man had got her this job, it wasn't a bad one. Ms. Madison had once considered a career in entertainment, and was glad to see she was still good.

The party was full of music and laughter. It was as if the guests were trying very hard to forget the awful things that had taken place. Ms. Madison did not blame them, even if it seemed very decadent. Lane spent a great deal of time talking to her, which got Ms. Madison some nasty looks. After all, she was supposedly just the entertainment.

At last, the party ended. As the guests went to bed, Ms. Madison chanced a wander in the grounds. As she passed behind the gardens, a familiar figure stepped out from the shadows.

"Green Man!" the blonde sighed deeply. "Boy, am I glad to see you!"

"Good evening, Ms. Madison." He chuckled. "Shall we go for a drive?"

"Where... where to?" the blonde asked.

"Out on the moor." The Green Man's reply was what she had expected.

The Creeping Thing: Part Six

The great country house was full of guests, dressed in the costumes of a past age. The windows of the mansion blazed with light. Inside, handsome men and beautiful women danced together to the music of a live orchestra, under glittering chandeliers. The air was filled with beautiful music, laughter and chattering voices. It could have been a scene of the idle rich from any age, liveried servants mixing with the guests, carrying fresh trays of drinks. Among the guests were company directors, actresses, actors and peers. All enjoying themselves immensely.

And at the heart of it all, talking to a couple of peers' daughters and a young lady barrister, was the host, resplendent in white tie and tails, a red carnation in his buttonhole, shirt-front gleaming pure white. He was regaling them with a funny story about some foreign place he had been that year. They were laughing, regarding him with admiration.

The conversation stopped for a moment, as a liveried footman approached the host, looking anxious. Words spoken in a whisper passed between the host and his servant.

"Excuse me, ladies," the host bowed to his beautiful audience, "but I have an important call."

Despite the relucatnce of the three young women, he left, hurrying to his study and picking up the 'phone. There were three on the desk, but this one was contained in a hidden panel in the wall. When he spoke, it was no longer in the light, bantering tones of the host, but the stern, menacing voice of the Green Man.

"Ms. Madison?"

"Oh, thank goodness!" the young woman sighed with relief. "Mr Lemon has been murdered!"

"I thought he might be," the Green Man replied grimly. "But there was no way I could intervene in that. Have you learned anything more?"

"The killer is a maniac or a monster of some sort," Ms. Madison continued anxiously. "strong enough to kill a man with his bare hands, and evil enough to horribly mutilate the bodies. From the noise I heard a moment ago, I'd say it might even be some sort of animal."

"Animal or not," the Green Man spoke, "the scheme which led to these deaths originated in the minds of a man - the source of all evil."


"Yes," Ms. Madison's voice was sober. "The killer seems to be linked to a deserted house on the moor. Since he seems to kill without a second thought, I'm going no-where near the place until I've got backup."


"Andrea's resting," the Green Man replied. "So you can enjoy yourself until tomorrow night. I shall contact you. Goodbye."

As he put the 'phone down, someone knocked on the door. Swiftly, the Green Man hid the 'phone and crossed to his desk. By the time the door opened, he was putting down one of the other 'phones.

"Lady Sylvia..." he looked up at the lovely brunette. "I was just about to rejoin the party."

The Creeping Thing: Part Five

There was silence for a long time, as the news of the horror sunk in. Ms. Madison was, not unsurprisingly, the first to recover some of their wits. That said, however, she was not able to show this, but had to wait until Mr. Lane, the only man present, recovered his compsure. She secretly despised Lane, who was clearly terrified.

"B...but how?" he asked, incredulous.

"The same way as the men and women in the village," the woman explained, still tearful. "Attacked by something hideously powerful, so powerful it can break a man's neck. "

"I know that," Lane looked annoyed. "But with all the security Mr. Lemon had surrounding him..."

"All the protection in the world can't stop a determined killer," Ms. Madison replied.

"You know?" Lane glared at her.

"I heard it somewhere." Ms. Madison did not lie. Nor did she tell the whole truth. She had heard it from the Green Man in the early days of working for him.

"And I believe you." Ms. Lemon nodded soberly. "After all, my husband is dead, in spite of all his precautions."

"I'm sorry," Ms. Madison's voice dropped to a sympathetic whisper. "Really, even if..."


Before she could say any more, the dark haired woman clouted her in the mouth. All the blode could do was look at her in mute amazement.

"What do you know, you tramp!" the woman yelled. "When you come down here..."

"Er... Mrs. Lemon..." Alan Lane sighed. "This is Lynette Madison, not Nora. She couldn't come."

Mrs. Lemon tunred very red, before fleeing.


Lane could only laugh. But, as he looked upwards to something above Ms. Madison. The colour drained from his face. Turning, Ms. Madison saw it. The ruins of a huge house, hovering over the moor, like some great brooding presence. Then, before she could say anything more, she heard the same sound that had awaken her.

Coming from the house.

She followed Mrs. Lemon to the house. Snatching up the nearest 'phone, she dialled the secret number that connected her to the Green Man.

The Creeping Thing: Part Four

After finishing her breakfast, Ms. Madison descended to the grounds of Llanthorn Place, hoping to get some local colour, or at least meet some people. While the Green Man had let her know a little more, she was still largely in the dark. And there was something downright disturbing lurking in that dark, to boot. Dressed in a cute, stylish dress and straw hat that really belonged to the summer, Ms. Madison could not help but shudder.

Still, the house was a pretty one, part severe classical, part that Frenchified Gothic so popular in the fading years of the Nineteenth Century, with a stubby tower and very large front porch. It was grand without being as ostentatious as the larger British country houses. Indeed, it as just the sort of place the stylish blonde still dreamed of living. Large enough to be grand, small enough to be lived in all the year.

And the grounds were lovely, set out in an informal manner, with paved walkways and winter flowers, the grass higher than perhaps it should have been. She paused by a particularly mature tree, looking back at the house, then out at the moors around it. This was an oasis of civilisation in the midst of bleak wilderness. She closed her eyes, drawing a great sigh.

"New here?" a voice broke in on Ms. Madison's reverie, causing her to start.

"You know it," she sighed, turning. "After all, I wasn't here yesterday."

"I suppose so." The speaker was a tall young man, broad shouldered and ruggedly handsome. "I'm Alan Lane."

"Lynette Madison," the blonde extended a slim hand. "I'm the entertainment. You?"

"Commodity broker," he told her. "i've known Mr. Lemon since High School."

"Then you can tell me who he is," she laughed. "I don't know him from Adam."

"You should be able to now," a harsh voice broke in on the conversation. The speaker was a dark-haired woman. "Adam didn't have his neck broken and his face hideously mutilated."

Ms. Madison gasped, the colour draining from her face.

The Creeping Thing: Part Three

Ms. Madison was awoken by a maid bearing a tray full of breakfast. Lying amid tangled sheets, it was quite obvious that the young woman had not slept well. The maid smiled cheerfully down at Ms. Madison, who returned her smile.



"What was the matter, Miss?" she asked, in a broad Welsh accent.



"I was woken up by a sound from outside," she explained earnestly. "A sort of screaming..."



The maid trembled, clearly worried.



"You heard it too," she shuddered. "I ... I expect you'll be wanting to leave as soon as you can, then?"



"Not at all!" Ms. Madison was dismissive. "I'm curious to know what it was, that's all. The terror of mystery normally vanishes when its explained."

"This one can't be explained," the maid told her. "And whenever its heard, someone dies."



"I hadn't heard about a killer on the loose," the young blonde looked concerned. "Where are we? I arrived late and was invited at the last minute."



"Llanthorn Place, Miss," the Maid gestered about her. "It's owned by Mr. Price Lemon, the industrialist. And you're here from the Green Man in place of the nightclub singer who was supposed to be here." She presented the blonde with a printed card, bearing an engraving of a foliate head, the Green Man of the medieval masons.



"Get me a 'phone," Ms. Madison rose from her bed.



She was part-way through dressing when the 'phone was brought. At once, she called the number that called the ever-changing number that contacted the Green Man.



"Ms. Madison," the voice of the Green Man came down the line. "Did you have a pleasant trip?"

"A pleasant trip," Ms. Madison confirmed. "But not a pleasant night. Green Man," the blonde's voice became anxious, "there's something out on the moor - something that kills!"


"I know." The Green Man's voice was grim. "Yet the press has said nothing about it. Ten men and women slain brutally, yet not a word about it in the papers.... Your task, Ms. Madison, is to find out what is going on - and quickly, before there are more deaths."

"We may be too late," Ms. Madison replied anxiously.

The Creeping Thing: Part Two

Ms. Madison got to Euston with time to spare. Collecting the suit case the Green Man had left for her, she mde her way swiftly to the train. She hurried up the platform, her heels tapping an urgent tattoo on the concrete of the platform. Still dressed in her party frock, she drew the gazes of most people there. Even in First Class, where she seated herself, Ms. Maidon stood out. Adding to the strangeness, the blonde unpacked her laptop computed and began to serch her files for records of what might be going on in the Wrexham area. When she found nothing, she packed it up again, lay back, and lowly drifted off to sleep.

She did not sleep so well. Having fought with Mr. Rake, she now felt bad about having left him as she had. In spite of everything, she was fond of the man, and did not want to hurt him. Or, if she was honest with herself, lose him to another. At last, she removed her 'phone from her handbag, and called Rake's number.

The 'phone rang a few times, and Ms. Madison prayed that he would pick up. At last, it was answered.

"Michael Rake," the familliar voice brought a smile to the blonde's lips.


"Mike!" she breathed a sigh of relief, "look, about tonight..."

"I was a fool," the gentleman replied gallantly. "You should keep that job. When the time comes, we'll talk about marriage again."

"You're a pal!" Ms. Madison laughed. "And, listen, if I can't make New Year's, I'll be over soon after."

After which, she was cut off by a tunnel. Still, reassured by his words, she was able to doze off, waking just as the train was pulling into Chester Station. She got a guard to help with her baggage, as she caught the train to Wrexham. There, the elegantly dressed girl stepped off onto a deserted platform. Waiting beneath the station clock, it was half an hour before a liveried chauffeur approached her.

"Lynette Madison?" he asked in rustic tones.

"The same," she smiled. "Who are you?"

"John Jones, driver to Mr. Lemon, Miss," the driver informed her. "You're a guest at the Hall, aren't you?"

"But of course," the blonde laughed, handing him her bags.

The drive to the Hall was one of mystery. She saw nothing of the countryside, only the stars in the night sky. Tired in spite of her snooze on the train, she was only vaguely aware of arriving at a great house. Once there, she was shown to her room by a housemaid, through cavernous recepition rooms. Once sure that this was her room, she changed and fell gratefully into bed.

She slept like a log. Except for one episode that will live forever in memory. At some point in the night, she was woken by the sound of a terrifying cry from outside.

The Creeping Thing: Part One

London by night is, as someone once observed, a beautiful sight. All the more so at Christmas time, with it millions of twinkling lights, people thronging its streets to buy presents for their nearest and dearest. And, the closer one gets to the day itself, so the restaurants and hotels book up for Christmas parties and revels. There are few places that are not crowded, although some of the more exclusive hotels seem to manage well enough. Full of music and dancing, the Savoy Hotel retains its atmosphere of exclusivity.

And, while she is in London, this hotel is the dwelling-place of the stylish and competent Ms. Madison, secretary and assistant to the mysterious Green Man, his companion of many adventures. Currently resting after an adventure which could have seen the destruction of millions, Ms. Madison is dancing with her long-time admirer and would-be fiancé, Mr. Michael Rake, swaying slowly to the music of the band, while tripping the light fantastic.

"Lynette, darling," Rake spoke softly, holding her close, "where have you been for the last few weeks?"

"Business, Mike," the blonde looked away from him, towards the band. "You know I have to travel a lot for my boss. You said it was all right." Her tone was warm, appealing, with a slight note of warning.

"You know," Rake sighed, "I wish I could meet this employer of yours. I'd probably feel a lot better about these trips if I did..."

"You just need to trust me," she gently chided him. "What he's like shouldn't matter."

""Shouldn't," Rake pointed out. "Look here, darling, the way you do things suggests you care more about him than me. Going off on a moment's notice..."

"I get paid to do that!" Ms. Madison flushed. "I do happen to work for him! And I get paid extra for the times I rush off at a moment's notice. I told you all about my job when you asked me out. I thought you agreed not to go on at me about it!" There was a note of fragility in the blonde's voice.

Before the tiff could develop into a serious fight, a page approached nervously, bearing a piece of paper.

"Ms. Madison?" the young man asked.

"Yes?" Ms. Madison looked at him, smiling.

"'phone call for you," the page looked up at her.

"That'll be the boss," Ms. Madison gave Mr. Rake a hard look. "Probably another job. And, before you even think of objecting, I'm going. We can resume our conversation when I get back to London!"

And, with that, the lovely blonde marched out of the ballroom, picking up a telephone in the hotel's grandiose foyer.

"Ms. Madison," she spoke calmly.

"This is the Green Man." The expected voice came down the wire. "Go at once to Euston Station. Take the eleven o'clock train to Liverpool. Disembark at Chester and take a train to Wrexham. There, you will be picked up by a station wagon. You are going to a Country House party, my dear."

"Can I take anyone?" she asked mischievously.

"Too dangerous." The Green Man was emphatic. "You will know more soon. Your luggage is at the station."

And, with that, the line went dead. Pausing only to pick up her fur wrap, Ms. Madison rushed outside, into a waiting cab.

"Euston!" she called, looking down at her watch. She had twenty minutes.