Dr Andrew Maitland stood at the window, looking out at the moonlit grounds of Endor House. His host, the businessman Roger Hilton, sat in a comfortable leather armchair. “Correct.” “Well, what do you think happens after we die?” Maitland drew the burgundy-coloured velvet curtains closed. “We get put in a box in the ground, and rot. Or our bodies get cremated.” “Hmm.” Dr Maitland turned his attention to one of the paintings that adorned the study walls. He shuddered. And yet, “Remarkable,” was his verdict. “What’s that?” “This painting.” Dr Maitland indicated the picture in question. Hilton rose from his seat, and joined his friend in examination of the painting. “Dear God!” The painting was a night-time scene of four figures in a cemetery. At a glance, it appeared they were grave robbers, but closer inspection revealed that these charnel defilers were something less than human, bestial, and disturbingly obscene.
