Dark Sanctuary

by H. B. Gregory

  They marched boldly along the passage and emerged into the great hall. Over against the fireplace Tony stood facing Vaughan and Gaunt. None of them was speaking, but they appeared to be quite unaware of the intrusion, until Hamilton, drawing his pistol, announced his presence with the command:

  “Keep perfectly still, all of you, please!”

  Three pairs of astonished eyes turned towards him. There was an electric pause, then:

  “Ah, the ubiquitous Mr. Hamilton,” said Gaunt. “Good morning to you. Put that ridiculous thing away. We won’t eat you.”

  Hamilton frowned, but he did not lower the weapon.

  “Stand back, please,” he said curtly; “I’ve come to fetch Tony, and nothing’s going to stop me.”

  Gaunt laughed sharply.

  “I shall not even attempt to dissuade you,” he countered. “Take him, with my blessing.”

  Hamilton frowned still more. This was too easy! However:

  “Come along, Tony,” he said. “Get a move on!”

  Tony had been standing motionless, staring dumbly, but now he broke out with:

  “No, no, John! You don’t understand. I can’t go now.”

  “Can’t be damned! You’re coming, Tony, whether you like it or not. Do I have to drag you out by the scruff of your neck?”

  “No, please, John, don’t make me go. You don’t know what you’re doing.”

  “Don’t I?” Hamilton walked quickly across the intervening space, his heels ringing on the flagstones. The doctor and his companion fell back before the threat of the pistol and he stopped a pace in front of Tony.

  How strange the boy looked, he thought. Were those tears in his eyes? His mouth was trembling like that of a child. In a gentler tone he spoke again.

  “Don’t be a fool, Tony! You’re coming with me, so don’t argue. I’m taking you out of this infernal hole for good. Those two devils can stay and rot, for all I care.”

  Tony hesitated, his brain working at lightning speed. If he stayed, there was just a chance . . . But he couldn’t hope to convince John now. Besides . . . No! He must stay. His face hardened and he folded his arms defiantly.

  “Sorry, John,” he said firmly, “but I’m not coming.”

  “Is that so?” The sunlight glinted on Hamilton’s pistol as he swung it up. Then, with a sharp crack, the hard steel descended on Tony’s unprotected head, and without a sound the young man crumpled up and fell at his feet.

  “Sorry, old boy,” Hamilton murmured, and turned to the gaping Tregellis.

  “Take him to the boat,” he ordered.

  The other ambled across, reluctantly surrendered his bludgeon, picked up the limp figure as if it had been that of a child, and made off down the corridor.

  Gaunt smiled sardonically.

  “I must say you have a way with you, Mr. Hamilton,” he remarked. “You have saved me a lot of bother.”

  Not troubling to reply, Hamilton followed his henchman. He was careful to avoid even looking at Gaunt, for he knew full well the power of those terrible eyes.

  He did not permit himself to relax until the launch was out of the harbour, and then he put away his gun and examined his prisoner.

  Tony lay quite still in the bottom of the boat, his face deadly pale and his eyes closed. There was a thin line of scarlet trickling from one nostril. Hamilton felt a vague alarm. Had he hit too hard? Hurriedly unbuttoning Tony’s shirt, he thrust his hand in and felt his heart. It was beating faintly, but steadily. With a sigh of relief he began bathing the bruised head with sea-water. He could feel a lump like an egg beneath the flaxen hair.

  What a pity Tony had been so obstinate, he reflected. Gaunt hadn’t even tried to interfere. Why not? He remembered the rector’s theory that the two Satanists were not really very much concerned over Tony, but wanted Kestrel for themselves. If that were so, they had got it now, for what use it was.

  Then it occurred to him that they were now marooned on the island, since he had interfered with Tregellis’ plan of returning the launch with a dinghy in tow to come back in. The launch was Tony’s property, and must remain at Pentock until he decided what to do. Hamilton gazed at the white, still face and sighed. What would he decide? Time alone could tell.

  Tony was still unconscious when they arrived at Pentock, but since, the fishing-boats were out, they managed to get him to the rectory without attracting undue attention.

  Valerie must have seen their approach from a window, for she was at the door as soon as they, crying:

  “Why, John, whatever’s happened?”

  “I’ll explain later. We must get him to bed at once.”

  At this juncture the rector, hearing the commotion, emerged from his study. Taking in the situation at a glance, he led the way upstairs to his own room, and there they laid Tony on the bed. Tregellis was then dispatched post-haste for Dr. Pellew.

  While he was gone Hamilton briefly explained what had happened. Valerie was bathing Tony’s head, and made no comment throughout the narrative, though she caught her breath sharply when Hamilton said he had been to Kestrel. The rector sat on the edge of the bed polishing his glasses. When the tale was told he put them on, saying:

  “There is a saying about fools and angels, John, but perhaps that is a little harsh in this instance. It was very brave of you to venture there again for the sake of your friend, and I honour you for it. But you are lucky to be here to tell the tale, I think. There must be a special Providence which watches over — impetuous fellows like yourself.” He smiled, then his face became grave again. “I pray God you have not played into their hands by doing this. It is certainly very odd that they offered no resistance. If Tony were their master card I feel they would not have let him go so easily. Ah, well, he shall be our chief consideration now, poor lad. It we can heal his wounded soul as easily as that bump on his head I shall be very happy.”

  When the doctor arrived he examined Tony briefly and announced that there was no cause for alarm.

  “He’s had a nasty crack, though, and there is a slight concussion. Rest, quiet, and cold-water bandages, Miss Bennett. It will probably be some hours before he comes round. I’ll call again later.”

  He asked no questions as to how Tony had come by his injury, but, since the rector had told him something of the happenings upon Kestrel, he probably had his suspicions.

  All that night Valerie, Hamilton, and the rector took turns to watch by the sick-bed; but when day broke the patient was still unconscious.

  At three o’clock in the afternoon Valerie, who had been asleep all morning, noticed a change in Tony’s appearance. He was breathing faster, and a little colour was creeping into his cheeks. The doctor, who had been in twice during the day, still maintained there was no need to worry; but she had to confess that she was growing a little anxious. Now she bent forward and watched the young man’s face eagerly.

  Presently his eyes opened and he stared up wonderingly at her.

  “Valerie?” he whispered doubtfully.

  She smiled reassuringly.

  “Yes, Tony. Don’t worry. You are in my uncle’s house. John brought you yesterday.”

  He lay quiet for a moment, taking it in. Then his hand crept up to his head and he felt the bandages, wincing as he touched the damaged place.

  “What happened?” he asked wearily.

  “You refused to come away with him, you know, and he thought it best to bring you, whether you wanted to or not. I’m afraid he hit you rather hard, but he didn’t mean to hurt you. There’s no serious harm done.”

  All at once Tony’s blue eyes widened, and he sat up, only to fall back with a groan of pain.

  “What’s the date?” he demanded surprisingly.

  She thought for a moment, then:

  “The twenty-first, I think,” she said. “Why?”

  “Four days to go — only four days — less! I must get back. Can I see John?”

  “I think he’s asleep now. Is it so very important?”

  “It’s vit
al. Please fetch him at once.”

  The urgency in his weak voice silenced the girl’s questions, and she went into the adjoining room and woke Hamilton, who presently appeared, clad in a dressing-gown, and sat on the edge of the bed.

  “I’m glad to see you’re better, old boy,” said he. “Sorry I had to lay you out, but you were so darned obstinate there was nothing else for it.”

  Tony smiled wryly and held out his hand. His friend took it silently, and he said:

  “I wish you hadn’t, John, all the same, because now I must get back as quickly as possible.”

  Hamilton sighed.

  “Do we have to go over all this again, Tony?” he asked.

  “No, you don’t understand. When you came butting in like a great bull yesterday Gaunt had just cast me off, after I had refused to help in what he proposed to do.”

  “What, you’re through with him?”

  “I can never be through with him altogether — I am bound by oath — but I refused to go on with this particular job.”

  “And this is . . .?”

  Tony replied with a quiet emphasis more convincing than any rhetoric:

  “The releasing of the curse-monstrosity upon its anniversary date, the twenty-fifth of this month.”

  Hamilton considered.

  “That’s four days from today. But why the excitement? I thought that was your intention all along.”

  “I was deceived in this as in many things. I believed we were to send the curse back whence it came out of this world for good. But Gaunt means to release it into the world.”

  Hamilton stared.

  “What will that mean?” he asked.

  “The ruin of the human race,” said Tony quietly.

  “Good God!” Hamilton was on his feet. Then he sat down again, saying:

  “How do I know this is true? You may be just pulling my leg in order to get back.”

  “No, John, I swear it’s deadly serious. That thing is an evil entity of frightful power. Once it gets loose there’s no telling what may happen.”

  Hamilton got up again slowly.

  “You sound serious enough, Tony, but Heaven help you if there’s a catch in this. I’ll fetch the rector, and see what he has to say.”

  “That priest? What good will he do?”

  “He knows more about these matters than I do, Tony; and, I suspect, more than you do yourself.”

  Tony laughed bitterly.

  “I doubt it,” said he, “but bring him along if you must. Perhaps I can make him realize how serious this all is.”

  Shrugging his shoulders, Hamilton went out. Tony lay staring up at the ceiling with burning eyes. Could he convince these people of the dreadful urgency of the matter? And even if he could and did manage to get back to the Abbey, could he stop Gaunt? Knowing the doctor’s power, he doubted it. He gnashed his teeth in an agony of impotence.

  The rector came in alone.

  “Feeling better, Sir Anthony?” he inquired. “John tells me you’ve something very important to tell me.”

  Rapidly Tony repeated what he had told Hamilton. When he had finished the rector got up and paced the floor several times, beating his brow with his clenched fist.

  “Why didn’t I think of this?” he exclaimed. “Fool that I am! I knew that it wasn’t you yourself they wanted, but I never dreamed . . . Can you stop them if you go back?”

  “I don’t know,” Tony groaned. “I can try. By myself I could do nothing; I have no power over that thing now, but there is just one chance. I have an idea that Vaughan is no happier over the whole business than I am; the two of us might perhaps be able to stand against Gaunt.”

  “I shouldn’t count on Simon Vaughan,” said the rector; “he was ever a weak vessel. I knew him of old. But something must be done; that is evident. As soon as you are a little stronger I will go back with you; but that will not be today. You must rest now; perhaps tomorrow the doctor will let you get up.”

  “But time is getting so short,” Tony persisted. “There are only four days to go.”

  “Does it matter so very much how long before the actual date you get back?” asked the rector. “Surely another day will not make much difference.”

  “I’m not so sure,” Tony answered. “You see, sir, every hour the curse grows stronger, until it reaches its maximum at noon on the twenty-fifth. The sooner I attempt to interfere, the better.”

  “I see. Tell me, Sir Anthony, why are you so anxious to prevent this occurrence? You are one of them, are you not?”

  “I don’t know what I am.” Tony’s voice was weary and hopeless. “I believed I was, but now that I cannot face the consummation of their faith they will have no more to do with me.” He turned his face away, but not before the rector had seen the tears in his eyes.

  A deep pity stirred in the heart of the old priest.

  “Give this soul to me, dear Lord,” he prayed silently, “that I may bring him back to Thee.”

  He sat down beside the bed, and said gently:

  “Tell me how it all began.”

  The need for sympathy was so strong in Tony that he poured out his pitiful tale at once.

  “My life was empty, meaningless,” he said; “I realized that when my father died. And the awful responsibility of Kestrel was more than I could bear alone. I turned to Nicholas Gaunt, and he offered me knowledge and power whereby I could rid the world of that horrid thing for ever. More than that, he offered me a new philosophy which would show me the meaning of everything, and give me something definite to live for. I believed him. He taught me. I have learnt many strange and wonderful things from him, things that I could never have found by any other means — good things, noble things, spiritual truths, things that even now I can find no fault with. But all the while he was subtly at work, altering my sense of proportion, lowering my moral standards. I can see it all now, but at the time I was blinded by the light of new knowledge.

  “He showed me his faith in its most attractive aspect, suppressing all that was unpleasant. I came to believe that humanity was on the wrong track; that the God you worship was false, non-existent, merely called into a sort of phantasmal being by centuries of misguided worship; and that Christ was an insane egotist, blinded by his own conceit, who had somehow managed to foist a ridiculous creed on to his followers. A creed which, with its insistence upon humility and gentleness, had been the ruin of civilization, suppressing the god-like pride which is the birthright of man, and reducing him to the level of a slave, meekly accepting tyranny and oppression. You know that poem of Swinburne’s: ‘Before a Crucifix’?”

  “Yes, I know it,” the priest replied, quoting: “ ‘Thou hast conquered, O pale Galilean, And the world has grown grey in thy breath.’ Very specious, but quite untrue. Please go on, if it isn’t tiring you too much.”

  “No, no, I must tell you the whole story now,” Tony said with breathless eagerness. “Well, eventually I came to be initiated. You must remember that all this time Gaunt had offered me no other form of worship in place of that which he had shown to be false. I must admit I felt the need of something more than mere knowledge, however wonderful, and at the ceremony it was revealed to me. I can’t possibly describe it — words are quite useless — and in any case I am under oath not to, but it suddenly dawned upon me what it was all about, that Satan was the one true Lord, to whom I was bound for ever.

  “I gladly accepted my new bondage, and until Valerie and John came to Kestrel I believed that all my troubles were over, and that I had reached harbour at last.

  “Then there came that awful business when Gaunt tried to destroy Valerie by means of the curse. I must frankly admit that she had upset my altered ideas of life; they no longer seemed all in all; but I couldn’t bring myself to believe that the wanton sacrifice of her life was in accordance with the high principles that Gaunt had laid down. I told him as much, and he assured me that he had acted for my good and that she was not all I had thought her.”

  “He lied,” interrup
ted the priest angrily; “she is all that is good and pure. I know that.”

  “Yes,” Tony agreed sadly, “I know it too now. As soon as I saw her face again this afternoon I knew the wrong I had done her in believing Gaunt. But such was his power over me that he convinced me at the time, particularly since he gave me what I thought was visible proof of her unworthiness.”

  “What do you mean?” asked the priest sharply.

  “I saw a vision in the crystal — oh, it’s too beastly to describe — it must have been a trick; but I thought I knew them all.”

  Tony lay silent, brooding on his unhappy memories. Overcoming the wrath which had surged up in him at the slur on his niece, the rector inquired if there were any more to tell.

  Wondering what on earth was making him confide all the secrets of his troubled soul to this man whom he scarcely knew, Tony went on:

  “I was very angry with Valerie and John for the wrong which I imagined they had done me, and Gaunt persuaded me to assist at a Black Mass offered for their destruction.”

  The rector started violently, and only by a tremendous effort of will succeeded in remaining silent. He knew what the Black Mass entailed, and his soul sickened at the knowledge of the enormity which this wretched boy had been dragged into. His rage against the two who had been ultimately responsible made the blood thunder in his ears to such an extent that he had difficulty in hearing Tony’s words.

  “I think I was deceived again,” the young man continued, “because all that happened was that the curse-monstrosity was whipped into frightful fury, and in the pandemonium Gaunt made me relinquish whatever control I had over it to him.

  “After that I suppose they had no further use for me. I refused to help when Gaunt told me of his further plans, and they cast me out. I have been deceived all along the line. One thing Gaunt said when I expostulated with him has shown me that much of his teaching about his own creed must have been quite untrue. He had always denied the existence of your God, but when I protested against the ruining of this lovely world he said, ‘This world was created by the Power which we defy, and must perish at the last.’ ”