“I expect he was brought up as a Christian, Father.”
“No doubt, but in that milk-and-water Christianity which is so common these days. Our faith is a glorious adventure, a flaming reality, or it is nothing. I doubt if it was ever real to him, and consequently he did not realize that this Satanism is merely a perversion of the Catholic religion. They have their Masses, and their dark sacraments, you know. Their ritual is elaborate and full of meaning, as ours is: quite attractive to the superficial observer; while their claim to greater knowledge and objective power is undeniable. They can, and do, effect far greater material results than we do, but at what a cost!” He fell silent, and Hamilton asked:
“Why should they fear the cost, if it is simply damnation, and the final union with their Master?”
“So their false reasoning runs. But they are wrong; they may achieve that union for a while — even after death, but I cannot believe they reach eternity that way. We are taught that at the Last Day Satan himself shall perish, and with him all these unhappy souls who have thrown in their lot with him. Of course they deny this, claiming that Darkness has always existed, as a co-equal of Light, and that Darkness will conquer in the end. But I will not believe that: it is inconceivable in the light of our faith. God is omnipotent, and the Devil merely a rebellious angel, fallen from grace.”
“Poor old Tony,” Hamilton mused, “to get taken in by all this clap-trap. I hope to God we can do something about it.”
“Amen,” answered the priest. “If we could only get him away somehow! I do not think they are really very much concerned with him; we shouldn’t meet much opposition from them, only from the boy himself, poor fool! I can’t believe that he is such a tremendous acquisition to them.”
“He’s pretty well off, you know,” Hamilton reminded him; “they may be after his money.”
The other shook his head.
“I don’t think so,” said he. “They are not short of means, and I shouldn’t imagine wealth by itself would hold much attraction for them. It may be Kestrel, though, that they are after. Such an unholy spot, so admirably situated, would make a very desirable stronghold for the headquarters of their Order. I wonder . . .” His voice died away, and for a while they sat silent, smoking their pipes. At last the rector spoke again.
“Well, John,” he said, “I think we have chewed over this business long enough for today. Let’s go and have some tea. And listen, you mustn’t get obsessed with these things. Don’t let them get hold of you; keep your mind clear; I’ll do the worrying. We can do no more at present, so try and forget all about it. Dr. Pellew is coming up this evening for a game of chess with me, and I suggest that you take Valerie for a walk, and try and put Kestrel out of your head for a while.”
“There’s nothing I should like better, Father.”
“Splendid! Now we’ll say no more about Tony Lovell and his troubles today. Agreed?”
“Agreed, Father.”
After tea Hamilton and Valerie set off along the cliff path in the direction of Portreath. The wind had dropped, and the sky cleared since morning; the sun was shining, and the air was very fresh and cool after the rain.
Rather to his surprise, Hamilton found his troubles slipping off his shoulders as he strove to enter into the gay spirit of her conversation, and before long he was laughing as merrily as she. He found her a delightful companion, and before they had been out an hour they were firm friends.
It was not until they had turned on to the inland road, and were walking homewards between the high banks, that she mentioned Kestrel.
“What’s going on there, Mr. Hamilton? Do tell me; Uncle’s so mysterious. I know you went over there this morning, and you looked so worried this afternoon.”
He looked down at her clear grey eyes, turned so confidently upon his face, and mentally vowed that she should never know anything of the horror that dwelt on Kestrel, but he knew that he could never lie to her, so, man-like, he temporized:
“Well, Tony — that’s Sir Anthony, of course — he’s an old pal of mine, and he’s got himself into a bit of a jam. His father had a sort of nervous breakdown before he died, and Tony asked me to send down a psycho-therapist from London. I was put on to this Dr. Gaunt. He came down and has been here ever since. It seems that he’s a bit of a spiritualist, and is rather keen on solving the mystery of the Lovell family curse, and Tony’s got mixed up with the whole cranky business, and I’m a bit worried about him. That’s all.”
She laughed.
“That doesn’t sound very serious. People do get caught up in these things, I know. A girl friend of mine in Bristol did once — séances, and all that sort of thing. Very creepy! But she soon got tired of it. I expect your friend will too.”
“I sincerely hope so,” said Hamilton, and meant it.
They said no more about the matter then, but went on chattering happily about other things. About a mile from the rectory, however, Valerie gave a little cry of pain and nearly fell. Hamilton caught her in a moment, and she stood on one leg, ruefully looking down at her left shoe. She had caught it between two stones in the rutty road, and the heel was twisted off. He knelt down in the dust and tried to put it back again, but it was hopeless, and so they went slowly on, she clinging to his arm.
He found it very pleasant to help her thus, and privately blessed the unwitting stones which had caused the little accident. Her slight weight on his arm made him feel large and heroic. Mentally he called himself an ass, but the fact was undeniable.
As they approached the rectory gate she suddenly became very quiet, and seemed to press closer to him than was absolutely necessary. Wondering what happy conclusion he could deduce from this, he stopped, and held the gate open for her. Without saying a word she released his arm and dived her hand into his jacket pocket. Dumbly he submitted, as the truth flashed blindingly across his mind, and watched her draw out the heavy pistol, whose bulky shape she had felt against her side.
For a long moment they stood there, a strange little tableau; he tense and expectant, she facing him, looking down at the grim object in her small hands. Then she shivered, and looked up at him, her face white; and he took the gun from her.
“Are your articles so violent that you must needs go armed, Mr. Hamilton?” she asked.
He did not reply, but still held the gate open for her. She passed through, and he followed, but as they entered the house she spoke again:
“Spiritualism, you said, Mr. Hamilton?”
He could find no words to answer her.
Chapter XIII
I
Next morning Hamilton received a note from Lorrimer. He was sitting on a bench outside the inn enjoying the warm sunshine when he saw the man Tregellis climbing the steep street towards him. He got up and went to meet him, and the other took the letter from his pocket, saying:
“From Mr. Lorrimer, sir.”
The message was brief, and ran as follows:
Mr. Hamilton, sir,
Sir Anthony and the others returned yesterday, just after you left. They did not ask if you had been, so I suppose they did not know that you are in the village. They all went down to the crypt last night, and were there a long time. Sir Anthony is much changed; you would scarcely know him, sir. I will communicate any further developments at once.
Hamilton folded the note thoughtfully and put it in his pocket, telling Tregellis that there would be no answer, and made his way to the rectory. He could see no other course than to wait from something to turn up, but he hated the inaction, and Tony might be inextricably involved while he sat still and did nothing.
He found the rector digging in the front garden and gave him the note. The old man read it through carefully and then tore it into small fragments.
“It tells us very little,” said he. “You will observe that ‘Sir Anthony is much changed’. I have no doubt that he is now initiated, and realizes to what he has committed himself. He could hardly be otherwise than changed, poor boy. I don’t think we can rel
y upon their not knowing you are here. If they are as clever as I think they will be perfectly well aware of our movements. No, we can do nothing at present. The next move is theirs.”
Hamilton was forced to agree, and the rector continued:
“I think you had better go and speak to Valerie. You will find her round at the back somewhere. She made me tell her the whole story last night after you had gone. It was careless of you to leave that pistol in your pocket, but perhaps it is as well that she should know.”
“How did she take it?” Hamilton asked anxiously.
“Rather badly at first, I’m sorry to say. It was an unpleasant shock for her — she did not suspect that such things happened at all; but she is better now. She wants to see you.”
Hamilton left him and walked round the side of the house. When he came to the lawn at the back he saw the girl sitting on a garden seat, apparently deep in thought, for she did not look up as he approached. Without saying anything he sat down beside her and began to fill his pipe. Presently she spoke, not looking at him, but staring straight in front of her.
“Uncle told me everything last night.”
“Yes, I know.” Hamilton struck a match.
“Oh, how can you sit still, smoking your pipe, while out there a soul is being ruined for ever?” she burst out with surprising vehemence. “You’re as bad as Uncle. ‘Pray’, he says. What good will that do? It’s — its’ damnable!” She finished with a half-sob, and suddenly burst into tears, burying her face in her hands. Hamilton felt an almost uncontrollable desire to take her in his arms and comfort her, but he merely bit his pipe-stem hard and said quietly:
“Your uncle is right, Miss Bennett. Things are rather out of our hands now. They are so much more powerful than we are; we can do nothing against them in our own strength. But God will help us, if we trust Him.”
“Then why does He let such things go on at all? I never knew that there were such people as these — these Satanists.”
“It’s very hard, I know,” he answered, “but don’t you see that it explains a good deal of the misery and horror of this world, that such people as these deliberately take sides against God, and help to bring about the Devil’s plans?”
“But why should only they have this awful power? Why shouldn’t decent people be able to fight them with their own weapons?”
“I suppose because it’s easier to gain this power by submitting to the Devil,” said Hamilton slowly. He was not very sure of his ground, being almost as new to this as she was, but the rector had tried to explain to him also, and he desperately wanted to help her in her trouble.
“Great saints have had material power,” he went on, “but we ordinary people would probably only misuse it if we had it, so God doesn’t let us have the chance. The Devil is only too ready to help his own.”
“I suppose that must be it” — she spoke more calmly now — “but I can’t bear to think of that poor boy all alone at the mercy of such monsters.”
“Do you think it is any easier for me?” he asked. “Tony was my friend — you have not yet even met him — and since it was I who was responsible in the first place for Gaunt’s coming down here, I feel partly to blame for the whole affair.”
She was instantly contrite.
“I’m so sorry — of course it’s much worse for you. I’d no idea you felt like that about it. It was beastly of me to turn and rend you. Please forgive me!”
“With all my heart, Valerie.”
“Thank you — John.” She glanced sideways at him, half-shyly, as she used his name, and he felt a sudden glow of warmth about his heart.
“Shall we try and forget all about it for the present?” he asked. “Worrying won’t do any good at all; we’ve done all we can; the rest lies with God.”
“I’ll do my best,” she answered, “but you must help me, John.”
“We’ll help each other, Valerie,” said he.
So began a very happy companionship, born not only of their mutual physical attraction, but of a very real spiritual need which both felt.
The weather had taken a turn for the better, and during the next week they spent most of their time together, out of doors.
They went for long walks over the bleak moors, peering fearfully down the abandoned mine-shafts which scarred them, and exploring the ruined engine-houses. They climbed the gaunt granite tors, and scrambled over the weird-shaped masses of rock, finding sheltered crannies in which to unpack their picnic basket. They bathed from a secluded cove a mile or so north of Pentock, where there was a beach of firm, golden sand, and the sea was free from rocks. Here they would splash about in the clear, shallow water, warm as milk, or swim together out to sea when the tide was favourable. Then, pleasantly tired with the exertion, they would dry in the hot sun, talking sometimes, but more often silent in their perfect comradeship. At such times Valerie looked more intoxicatingly lovely than ever, with her dark curls lying damp about her face, and her lithe body and slim legs, delicately tanned, set off to perfection by the white costume which she wore.
Hamilton knew he was fast falling in love with her, and he was content that it should be so. Whether his feelings were reciprocated he did not know, but the light in her eyes and the look on her face sometimes gave him much cause for hope. And so the days passed.
One morning Valerie said she would like to go for a sail. Hamilton doubted the wisdom of this, since his boating experience was limited to yachting on the Broads, but he was long past denying her anything; so, without consulting the rector, they packed a luncheon-basket and crept out like two naughty children. They managed to hire a dinghy down at the harbour, and after lengthy instructions from the boatman about the tides they set sail. The harbour mouth was negotiated successfully, and in a few minutes they were out in the open sea. There was a fresh breeze, and the sea was rather choppy, but by avoiding the shore and keeping well out Hamilton thought they would be safe enough.
He set his course for the north, giving Kestrel a wide berth, and for a couple of hours they glided along happily. The only other boat in sight was a coal-barge — from Cardiff he guessed, making for Portreath. Presently that disappeared, and they had the sea to themselves; the distant rocky coast on their right and Kestrel behind them.
Shortly after noon they opened the basket and had lunch. Then Hamilton lay down in the bottom of the boat, one hand on the tiller, smoking his pipe and lazily watching Valerie, who was perched in the bows; a delightful picture in her white sweater and short blue skirt. Overhead two seagulls sailed in the deep blue, their wings flashing in the sun. It was very peaceful.
Then the wind dropped. For a while they waited hopefully, but the calm continued, so Hamilton lowered the empty sail and got out the oars. They were perhaps five miles from Pentock, and he was settling down to what promised to be a long and tiresome job, when the wind began to blow again, in short gusts, from the land.
Shipping the oars, he hoisted the sail once more, but soon found that tacking was well-nigh impossible, to one of his small skill, in such an uncertain and violent wind. After twice going within an ace of capsizing them he gave it up, lowered the sail, and began to row again.
He had his back to the wind, and consequently did not see the great bank of cloud which piled swiftly up, but the girl was watching it intently, and when it finally obscured the sun she voiced the apprehension which had been troubling her.
“Are we in for a storm, John?” she asked in a small voice.
Hamilton gave one swift look over his shoulder and went on pulling harder than ever.
“Afraid so,” he muttered. “If only we weren’t so far out!”
As he spoke great drops of rain began splashing on to the boat, and in the heart of the dark cloud overhead there was a little violet flicker, followed in a few seconds by a distant rumble. The wind increased, and began lashing the grey sea to fury.
Soon Hamilton drew in the oars; it was quite hopeless trying to row in the welter of water upon which the dinghy tosse
d. He crawled over the thwarts to where Valerie was crouching in the stern, taking the tiller from her, and trying to keep the boat head on to the gale. Even then mountainous waves threatened to overwhelm them every second.
The sky was now like ink, and the shore invisible through the driving rain. The thunder crashed and rolled, while the lightning flickered incessantly.
Hamilton put his free arm round Valerie, and she pressed close against him. He could feel her trembling slightly, but her voice was quite steady as she spoke into his ear above the tumult of the storm.
“Do you think we shall come through, John?”
He nodded vigorously, saying with an assurance he was far from feeling:
“Of course we shall come through. This’ll soon blow over.”
Then he had to leave her and bail out the water, which was rapidly filling the bottom of the boat.
For what seemed like hours they kept up the unequal battle with the elements. They lost all count of time, for Hamilton’s wrist-watch had stopped long ago, but at last the darkness became absolute, save when the lightning lit up the waste of heaving water with its weird blue glare. Night had fallen.
Soaked to the skin, shivering with cold and terror, they huddled together in the bottom of the boat. A cross-wave had carried away the rudder, and they were at the mercy of the wind. Hamilton cursed himself bitterly for ever having allowed her to persuade him to this mad adventure. Unless a miracle happened they were lost.
A deeper roaring rose above the noise of the wind — a crashing, seething sound. Breakers! He pulled himself up to the level of the gunwale and saw, in the brief blue glare, the black bulk of Kestrel, with the Abbey perched atop, hard on the leeward bow. Nothing could save them now, he thought; they were rushing straight to destruction on the cruel rocks. This was the end!
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