Dark Sanctuary

by H. B. Gregory

  “All phenomena connected with thought-transference, clairvoyance, mind-reading, and the like, depend upon the existence of a state or dimension known as the astral plane. This is somewhat similar to the imponderable aether of the nineteenth-century physicists. It is a realm which is outside space and time, and yet is very close to us. In this respect it is not unlike the fourth dimension, beloved of science-fiction writers.

  “Almost any human mind can, when properly trained, attain a state of consciousness wherein this astral plane is reached, and since the limitations of space are non-existent thereon, two minds can have free intercourse, irrespective of the intervening distance, however great. Similarly the past is accessible, and, to a less extent, the future, since time is without significance on that plane. Do I make myself clear?”

  “Admirably,” Tony answered with a wry smile, “if I accept all your premises. And I have no choice. But I suppose I myself, for instance, could not attain to this astral plane for lack of the special training?”

  “Not unaided. But I can demonstrate it to you if you wish.”

  “Please do, Doctor. It’s amazingly interesting.”

  “Very well. Look at me, and make your mind as empty as possible. Give me your hands.”

  Tony did as he was bid and looked into the doctor’s brilliant eyes. For a few moments he was only aware of the unwinking stare of the black pupils with their rings of grey iris; then he had a vivid impression of his material surroundings, the soft feel of the upholstered chair under him, the firm grip of Gaunt’s hands. The doctor said something he couldn’t understand, and simultaneously he seemed to fall headlong into the dark pool of the other’s eyes, which miraculously widened until they covered all else. He felt a faint tingling all over his body and at once lost all consciousness of it, becoming a discarnate mind. Everything was black, and he was alone in the blackness. He felt very lonely, and his mind turned towards Hamilton.

  Instantly there was a room about him, a vaguely familiar room, full of blue tobacco-smoke and the clattering of a typewriter. John Hamilton sat at his desk, pounding away, pipe in mouth. Behind him the window stood open to the cool night breeze, and the roar of Knightsbridge came pulsing in. Tony tried to speak to his friend, to step forward and touch him, but he could neither move nor make a sound. It was like a nightmare. Hamilton came to the bottom of a page, whipped it out, and sat reading it through. Feverishly Tony tried to attract his attention, and for a moment thought he had succeeded, for the other raised his eyes from his work and looked full at him, speculatively. But he only took another sheet, wound it into the machine, and set to work again.

  The room faded, like a dissolving “cut” in a film, and Tony was in darkness once more. He thought of Kestrel, and Gaunt, and immediately felt the doctor’s hands on his. Clutching at them like a drowning man, he struggled to the surface and lay gasping in his chair.

  “Satisfied?” smiled the doctor.

  Tony nodded dumbly. A thought struck him.

  “But was it real,” he asked, “or did you just suggest it to me?”

  “It was real enough. Your mind turned to your friend and went to him at once. Write and ask him what he was doing at this hour, if you like. There was no deception.”

  “It’s amazing, Doctor. Simply amazing.”

  “The powers of the human mind are always amazing to those who know little of them. I could show you things far more astonishing than that. I will, but not tonight. We must be up early in the morning to meet my friend Vaughan at Pentock.”

  II

  At just after nine o’clock next morning Tony and Gaunt climbed the harbour steps at Pentock and made their way to the Three Fishermen. Outside the inn they found a small crowd of villagers, standing round a long grey car, piled with luggage and covered with dust. The men made way respectfully for them as they approached, touching their caps and greeting the new master of Kestrel with a “Good morning to ’ee, zur!” Tony returned the salute and he and Gaunt passed inside, where they encountered the landlord’s wife, polishing the brass rail of the bar.

  She answered Tony’s query as to whether anyone had arrived for the Abbey with a nod of her head towards the back parlour.

  “He’s in there, Sir Anthony, having his breakfast. He came about half an hour ago.”

  From her tone of voice Tony gathered that the newcomer had not created a good impression, but he thanked her and followed Gaunt into the other room.

  At the table was an enormously fat man, of repellent appearance, making short work of a large plate of bacon and eggs. He got up as they appeared and shook hands with Gaunt, who turned to Tony, saying,

  “This is Mr. Simon Vaughan, Tony, of whom I told you.”

  Tony took the flabby cold hand with a faint feeling of disgust. The man reminded him of a toad he had once seen, sitting in a dark hole in the rocks. The same sleepy, watchful eyes; the same wide mouth and flat, hairless head. He was vaguely surprised by the courteous greeting he was given, but his tone was very cold and formal as he said:

  “How do you do, Mr. Vaughan? You had a good run down, I hope?”

  “Excellent, thank you, Sir Anthony. I must have averaged close on forty all the way. The car goes very well, Doctor.”

  Gaunt nodded. “She’s a good car. Mine, Tony. Care to have a look at her while Mr. Vaughan finishes his breakfast?”

  They went out into the sunshine; Tony, at least, with a definite feeling of relief. As he was examining the Bentley with keen interest the doctor spoke of his colleague.

  “Don’t be put off by first impressions, Tony. Vaughan is a charming fellow really, and has an amazing mind. His appearance is against him, I know, but when you get to know him you will like him as much as I do. He is probably the only man in England qualified to deal with our particular problem.”

  Naturally Tony denied that he had received any bad impression, but in his own heart he knew that his first reaction to Vaughan had been one of repulsion. However, he allowed that he might be mistaken.

  The subject of his thoughts presently joined them, smoking a long, thin cheroot, and wearing a great traveling-coat lined with fur. They took the car as near to the jetty as was possible and spent a strenuous five minutes transferring the three huge trunks to the launch.

  “Apparatus which I shall need for my investigations, mainly, Sir Anthony,” Vaughan explained, “not personal effects!”

  The Bentley was finally stabled at the inn, beside the old Buick belonging to the Abbey, which looked even more elderly and dilapidated beside its new companion. Tony drove the launch across to the island, mentally thanking Providence for a calm day, for the gunwales were within three inches of the water. However, the passage and the unloading at the Abbey harbour were accomplished without mishap, Lorrimer and Tregellis assisting.

  Gaunt went with the newcomer to his room and remained with him for some time, while Tony interviewed Mrs. Lorrimer about the domestic arrangements.

  A fire was crackling on the hearth in the great hall, for the place was never really warm, even at the height of summer, and Tony was sitting beside it when the others came down.

  Vaughan lowered himself cautiously into a chair, saying:

  “Well, Sir Anthony, the doctor has been telling me about your trouble. A very interesting case, I must say.”

  “Do you think you will be able to do anything about it, Mr. Vaughan?” asked Tony, handing him the cigarettes, which he passed on to Gaunt without taking one.

  “Yes, I’m almost sure I shall. But I must have your help, and Gaunt tells me you’re quite new to these matters. Almost a sceptic, I believe?”

  “I was until a few days ago, but I’m not now. Certainly I know very little about it.”

  “The doctor shall teach you all you need to know while I go about my preparations. I think we may say that there is little doubt but that the seat of the manifestations is in the crypt, eh, Gaunt?”

  The doctor nodded. “No doubt at all,” he said. “Nothing has ever been seen up he
re, has it, Tony?”

  “Not so far as I know, Doctor. The rooms we don’t use are all shut up, but I suppose we can rule them out. Everything points to the crypt, and yet when you took me down there we didn’t find anything unusual.”

  “No, but we must have missed something. There must be another exit. The whole place will have to be searched thoroughly. Our examination was of a rather perfunctory nature, you must admit.”

  “We will start our investigations there,” said Vaughan in a decided tone; “if they yield nothing of note, then we must try elsewhere. But first there is an old book, isn’t there? A history of the curse. The doctor told me of it.”

  “Yes, I’ll get it for you. It’s in the library.” And Tony fetched the ill-fated volume.

  Vaughan took it, saying:

  “Thank you, Sir Anthony. Now if you and the doctor will take a little walk I’ll read this through and get my facts in order.”

  Outside, in the bright sunshine which warmed half the courtyard, Tony asked Gaunt:

  “What will he do first, Doctor?”

  “I cannot say for certain. He has his own methods. But I should imagine that he will first endeavour to find the exact spot from which this evil influence operates. Then he will proceed to administer some corrective treatment, the exact nature of which will depend upon the class to which this being belongs. That is the usual procedure with haunted houses.”

  “And are all haunted houses occupied by an evil influence such as this?”

  “By no means. Many so-called ghosts are nothing more than impressions caused by past events of great significance, which at the time of their happening became photographed, as it were, upon the spiritual fibre of their surroundings, and which can be perceived by a sensitive mind.”

  “Then do the spirits of the dead never return to earth, Doctor?”

  “It depends what you mean by spirits, Tony,” the doctor replied, sitting down upon a garden seat against the outer wall. Tony joined him and lit a cigarette.

  “Explain, please,” he said.

  Gaunt marshaled his thoughts and began once more.

  “The human being is composed of three individual parts, each with a life of its own; there is the material body, which ceases to live at the moment of corporal death; there is the astral body, or vital principle, called by the old Egyptians the Ka, or Double; and there is the ego, the soul itself. At the moment of death these last two are released. What happens to the immortal soul, the personality, each must answer for himself in the light of his own faith. But the astral body, which, unlike the soul, is a replica of the material body, although composed of immaterial substance, may remain near the corpse, or on the scene of its death, for varying periods of time. It has no separate intelligence of its own, and without the guidance of the mind, which has gone with the soul, it may wander aimlessly about, or re-enact the circumstances of the corporal death perpetually. Here you have the explanation of another class of hauntings. Incidentally, it is possible for a trained mind to project this astral shell from the body during life, and, moving on the astral plane, to visit distant places and effect material results through its agency.”

  “I take it, then, that our particular haunting belongs to neither of these classes?” put in Tony.

  “No. Here we have an example of an inhuman entity, a being or spirit which has never occupied a bodily form, and never will. Such are often called elementals, or elemental spirits. Generally they are moderately harmless, and not particularly intelligent. They are responsible for the so-called poltergeist phenomena — aimless throwing about of furniture and crockery. In such cases they often operate through a medium of low mentality — a half-witted servant girl, say.

  “This curse of yours, however, seems to operate without the proximity of a medium, unless I am mistaken, and that in itself distinguishes it from the more ordinary type of elemental. Also it is definitely evil, and probably very powerful. I suspect that it is actually a monstrosity from the Outer Darkness — a sentient being from the chaos which exists behind the veil of created matter. If I am right in this assumption, then our task of expelling it presents enormous difficulties and fearful danger.”

  Tony sat still, absorbing this as best he could. When he spoke, he said:

  “Tell me, Doctor: where did you learn all this? And again — you keep referring to the unlimited power of properly trained minds. Where can such training be had?”

  Gaunt smiled enigmatically and looked up at the sky, against which a solitary seagull was sailing, its motionless white wings against the blue vying for purity with the rare, fleecy clouds far above. He seemed to be weighing something in his mind, for a faint line appeared between his brows and his lips compressed themselves. After a couple of minutes he came to a decision, and, looking back towards Tony, said:

  “That is a question which I may not answer in detail. I am bound by oath not to reveal the source of my training, but let it suffice that ever since the world began there has been this secret knowledge, handed down from generation to generation amongst a chosen few. There have been, and there are still, secret societies formed to safeguard it, and to train initiates. The Rosicrucians were one, and still are, for that matter, though they do not advertise in the newspapers.

  “There are other so-called secret societies in existence today which used to have the secret wisdom, but which have lost all but the outward symbolism. I can think of one at this moment — I will not mention its name, though you must know to what I am referring — which with great wisdom has wrapped its true nature in so many veils that only a minute proportion of its members ever reach the inner mysteries. By an ingenious system of degrees and grades, only the most earnest seeker after knowledge is ever permitted to attain to complete initiation. Most of its members remain in the lower orders, practically ignorant of the possibilities which are open to them, content with philanthropy and symbolism.

  “In bygone centuries the mysteries of Crete and Samothrace, the Egyptian priests of Isis, the Druids — all knew the ancient wisdom. In this modern world of ours, so insistent upon material things, these high spiritual matters are still more closely guarded. One day the world will learn, in bitterness and desolation, that matter is not all, and that machinery cannot do everything, and it will cry out for guidance in the great dark, and we who keep the Mysteries will come back into our own.”

  The doctor spoke quietly, and yet with such seriousness and tremendous authority that Tony could not doubt his words. Turning them over in his mind, he realized at last what he had longed for unconsciously for so many years: a meaning in life; a purpose in existence. His soul, drugged with material things, suddenly awoke, and finding itself in darkness, began to cry out in a still, small voice for light. In the last few days his whole world had turned upside down, all values had strangely altered, and he felt that he could not go on in ignorance any longer. A great thirst for knowledge sprang up in his breast, and, his mind reeling, he mentally prostrated himself at Gaunt’s feet.

  “Doctor, help me! I want to know — so much. What death is — and, more, what life is. What is it all for? What does it mean? I’ll do anything you say, only help me!”

  Gaunt studied the eager face and burning blue eyes which gazed at him so beseechingly, and his own lean features softened.

  “That’s what they all say, Tony.” His voice was gentle, but infinitely sad. “The Way is long, and strewn with many pitfalls. Have you the courage of heart and the strength of will to face, it may be, years of seemingly fruitless effort?”

  Tony bowed his head.

  “I do not think I have the courage to face my empty life without it.” The words were almost inaudible, “Show me the Way!”

  The doctor smiled tenderly, and laid his hand on the young man’s arm.

  “Very well, then,” he said; “I must first apply to my superiors for permission, but I don’t anticipate any difficulty there. I will begin your pre-initiation training at once.”

  Chapter VII

 
; When Tony and the doctor went in to lunch they found that Vaughan had acquainted himself with the whole of the contents of the book, and professed himself ready to start work that afternoon. The meal was served in the library, as usual, and afterwards all three descended into the crypt, both Gaunt and his colleague carrying powerful electric torches.

  The place was quite as dark by day as by night, but the lamps were greatly superior to that which Tony had used on his last visit with the doctor, and threw a beam quite a hundred yards long. Consequently Gaunt was able to pretend to discover the altar, the whereabouts of which, of course, he knew perfectly well, without arousing Tony’s suspicions in the slightest degree.

  At sight of the altar Vaughan became greatly excited, and ran up the steps with an agility surprising in one of his bulk. He bent over the upper slab, examining it minutely with his torch, uttering low grunts of satisfaction. The other two left him at it, and returned to the hall above to carry down two of his trunks, which had been deposited beside the trap-door at his instructions.

  This proved to be an exceedingly difficult task, since the stairway was narrow, and the boxes both large and heavy. It took quite ten minutes’ strenuous labour before both trunks were finally deposited near the altar, which Vaughan was still examining closely. At last he turned to the others.

  “There is no doubt, Sir Anthony,” he said in his thick voice, “but that this has been used for purposes other than that which its builders intended, and I think we shall find that this is the source of the phenomena connected with the curse. There must be some way of raising this stone, but I cannot find it at present. Have you any ideas, Gaunt?”

  The doctor joined him, and spent some minutes pretending to look for the catch. After much fumbling he released it, with an exclamation of surprise, and together the two lifted the altar-stone on its counterpoised pivot.