Dark Sanctuary

by H. B. Gregory

  Howling like a demon, the wind caught the boat and lifted it broadside on the crest of a mighty wave. As they turned over he saw the welter of foam and the black rocks beneath.

  II

  “But, Doctor, you know I don’t like these anthropomorphic ceremonies.”

  Anthony Lovell was the speaker. He sat facing Dr. Gaunt in front of the roaring fire in the library. Outside the wind was yelling round the walls of Kestrel, mingling with the ceaseless roar of the surf at the foot of the cliffs. The resultant tumult penetrated the Abbey to such an extent that the speakers had to raise their voices a little, and pause altogether when the thunder shook the building to its foundations.

  “No, Tony, I know you don’t,” Gaunt answered, after one of these interruptions. “Neither do I. But Vaughan does. I suppose it’s a survival from the days when he was a priest. He loves ceremonial, and the Black Mass particularly.”

  “But it effects nothing; it has no use.”

  “Save on the mind of the celebrant and those present. It is true that a great adept can dispense entirely with ceremonial — even I can sometimes; but Vaughan and yourself are not sufficiently advanced yet.”

  “But so much of the ritual seems quite childish and fantastic.”

  The doctor smiled.

  “I know. So does all ritual. Even our little human acts and gestures by which we express our emotions — love, fear, laughter, and so on — are quite absurd if viewed in a detached manner. But ritual is helpful. These time-honoured ceremonies of ours are merely a means by which we focus, and concentrate into action, all the latent powers of the soul.”

  “Yes, Doctor, I know all that. It is only against this pointless Black Mass that I am protesting.”

  “Well, Tony, Simon believes it to be necessary for you to assist him at it, in order to carry on with our work of banishing the curse-elemental from the island. After all, he is in charge of the job, and we must let him carry it out in his own way. The Mass is merely a rather unpleasant survival of our great rebellion against the soul-destroying bondage of the Catholic religion, and Vaughan likes to use it as a means of reminding himself of his escape from that bondage. We must humour him, Tony.”

  “Very well, I’ll do it, but under protest. When does he want to begin?”

  “Tonight; now, I fancy. Shall we join him? He’s down below.”

  They rose and went out together. As they entered the passage leading to the hall the kitchen door burst open and Lorrimer appeared, clad in oilskins, and dripping wet.

  “What on earth’s the matter, Lorrimer?” asked Tony.

  Between gasps, for he had just run up the stairway from the harbour, the servant told him.

  “Tom and I were just letting down the water-gate, Sir Anthony, when a great wave carried a little boat clean over.”

  “Great Scott! Anybody in it?”

  “Yes, Sir Anthony, a man and a woman. It took us a long time to fish them out, and they were pretty far gone, sir. Tom’s with them now.”

  “Come on, Doctor!” cried Tony. “We must lend a hand.” He followed Lorrimer into the kitchen and struggled into another oilskin. Gaunt shrugged his shoulders and followed also, a little frown of annoyance on his face.

  “Bring them up here, gently,” he said. “I’ll wait for you. Mrs. Lorrimer, hot blankets and brandy, please.”

  Outside the wind was terrific, and it was all Tony could do to keep his feet as he stumbled down the worn steps after Lorrimer’s torch.

  Down on the landing-stage two bedraggled figures were stretched out near a hurricane lamp. Tregellis was kneeling astride one of them, applying artificial respiration. Every few seconds a tremendous wave would burst in the harbour mouth, flinging a shower of spray over the group.

  Tregellis greeted Lorrimer with a shout.

  “The other’s breathing now; this one isn’t.”

  Motioning him to help Lorrimer, Tony took over the seemingly hopeless task. He had set his hands upon her back, and was hard at work, before he realized that it was a girl who lay, apparently lifeless, between his knees. Lorrimer and Tregellis picked up the other castaway and staggered off up the steps.

  It seemed to Tony that he knelt over that frail body for hours, pressing and relaxing in the endless effort to restart the water-logged lungs. The noise of the sea was frightful, and the flickering lightning rendered the lamp practically useless, so dazzling was it. Tregellis had returned and had been standing beside him for some time when Tony was at last rewarded by a choking sigh as the girl struggled painfully back to life. He staggered to his feet, numb with cold and almost exhausted, while the other gathered up the slight figure. Together they climbed the stairway, Tony lighting the way.

  In the kitchen the doctor was kneeling beside the first patient, forcing brandy between the blue lips. He got up when Tregellis entered carrying the girl, but was forestalled by Mrs. Lorrimer, who bustled forward, making little sounds of pity. It was she who drove them all out save the doctor, while she stripped the saturated clothing from the slim body and wrapped her in a warm blanket.

  When Tony came in again the two castaways were lying side by side in front of the great range, and Gaunt was ministering to them both.

  “How are they, Doctor?” he asked.

  “They’ll be all right. There’s nothing seriously wrong now except for exposure and exhaustion. You undoubtedly saved the girl’s life, though; she was nearly gone, Tregellis tells me.”

  “Good!” said Tony, and peered closer at the faces of the couple. He uttered a great cry, and sprang erect.

  “Why, Doctor, it’s John Hamilton! You remember — ?”

  “Of course I remember,” Gaunt replied quietly, “I recognized him at once.”

  “But what an extraordinary thing — ”

  “Is it, Tony? Nothing is extraordinary in this fantastic world. I might have anticipated something like this.”

  “What do you mean, Doctor?”

  “Nothing. Help me get them to bed. Mrs. Lorrimer is preparing two rooms over here. They will be warmer than anywhere else.”

  So that night Hamilton and Valerie lay on Kestrel isle, in a deep coma of utter exhaustion, unaware that they had been miraculously saved from a watery grave.

  When Valerie awoke she found herself in a low, cosy room with stone walls and narrow, uncurtained windows, and a cheerful fire making dancing patterns on the ceiling. A grey light was struggling in from outside, but a lamp still burnt beside the bed.

  She looked round in drowsy wonder, and a kind-faced, grey-haired woman came to her side, carrying a great bowl of soup.

  “Drink this, my dear, and don’t talk.”

  Valerie obeyed both commands, and lay back, feeling deliciously lazy, and far too sleepy to think. A tall, dark man, with silver-streaked hair and piercing eyes, came in and sat by the bedside, feeling her pulse. She supposed she had been ill and that this was the doctor, but where she was she hadn’t the faintest notion. Then the doctor told her to go to sleep, and without more ado she did so.

  Gaunt got up and went into the adjoining room, where he sat down beside the still-sleeping Hamilton, gently taking the young man’s hands in his.

  For a long time he sat thus, his look withdrawn and his lips moving slightly. Then he called to Mrs. Lorrimer, who came in with another bowl of soup. Hamilton opened his eyes and sat up, staring around. He recognized them both, and remembered instantly — the boat, the storm, the rocks and —

  “Valerie! Is she safe?”

  “Quite safe, my boy,” answered Gaunt, “asleep in the next room. Now drink this, and try to get some more sleep.”

  Reassured, Hamilton obediently drank his soup, and was soon asleep once more.

  The doctor went back to Valerie, and repeated the process he had performed with her companion-in-distress, holding her hands and whispering softly, his glittering eyes fixed upon her quiet face.

  When he joined his colleague Vaughan in the great hall he was smiling with satisfaction. The other noticed
this at once and asked:

  “You have been successful, then?”

  Gaunt laughed softly.

  “Eminently so, my friend,” he said. “They knew a little, and suspected — much. When they wake again they will know nothing and suspect less. All is well.”

  “Did you have any difficulty with Hamilton?”

  “Very little. He was so exhausted that I overcame his will almost at once. The girl was easy.”

  Chapter XIV

  When Hamilton woke again he found Tony sitting beside him. As soon as he opened his eyes the other spoke.

  “Well, John, feeling better?”

  Hamilton stretched luxuriously.

  “I feel fine now, Tony, thanks. How is Valerie — Miss Bennett?”

  “The girl who was with you? She’d doing very well. Who is she, John?”

  “Niece of the rector at Pentock. An awfully nice girl.”

  “So I should imagine. How on earth did you come to be out in that storm?”

  Hamilton related the story, and then Tony told him how they had been saved from the deep.

  “It’s little short of miraculous that you’re here at all, John,” he concluded.

  “Yes. And we owe our lives to you and your servants, Tony. If they hadn’t fished us out of the harbour we should certainly have been drowned. Is the storm over yet?”

  Tony went to the window and looked out. It was late afternoon, but the sky was a uniform slate colour, and the gale was still raging furiously. The continuous thunder of the surf could be plainly heard.

  “It’s still very rough, John,” said he. “I suppose you want to get back as soon as possible?”

  “Yes, or at least to get a message to Father Bennett.”

  “No chance of that yet, I’m afraid,” answered Tony. “We couldn’t possibly get across in the launch. It may be days before we can get in touch. We’ve been cut off here before after a storm like yesterday’s.”

  “That’s awkward. The rector will have given us up for lost. However, it can’t be helped. We shall have to trespass still further on your hospitality for a while, that’s all.”

  “You’re welcome to stay as long as you like, John. Now I must be off. You mustn’t talk too much yet.”

  After the door had closed behind his friend Hamilton lay thinking how fortunate they were to have fallen into such good hands. For a moment a vague recollection of something unpleasant that he had read or heard — he couldn’t be sure which — about Kestrel rose in his mind, but he dismissed it at once. It was very good to lie here, warm and comfortable, after the hell of the previous night, watching the cheerful glow of the fire, and knowing that Valerie was safe in the next room.

  At about the same hour Valerie also woke to find Mrs. Lorrimer still with her. At first she was just as puzzled as on the occasion of her first awakening, and asked where she was.

  Mrs. Lorrimer put down her sewing and turned towards her.

  “Ah, so, you’re awake now, my dear,” she said. “Don’t worry, you’re quite safe. You’re on Kestrel Island; my husband helped pull you and Mr. Hamilton out of the sea last night.”

  Recollection came back with a rush, and the girl’s face whitened.

  “John — is he safe?” she breathed.

  “Yes, my dear. Quite safe and sound. You’re both very fortunate to be alive at all. You were in God’s hands last night.”

  Valerie lay and contemplated the wonder of it. They were safe, and here she was, on Kestrel Island, actually within the walls of the Abbey, that fairy castle of romance which she had so often gazed at longingly from the mainland. It was almost too good to be true.

  “Is old Sir Anthony here?” she asked.

  “No, my dear; he’s dead now, you know, and his son is master of Kestrel.”

  “Yes, of course. How silly of me! John’s friend — I had forgotten.”

  It was not the only thing she had forgotten, for all memory of the dark mystery which surrounded Tony and his associates had been blotted out of her mind, as out of Hamilton’s, by the iron will of Dr. Gaunt.

  Presently there came a knock at the door, and Tony’s voice was heard asking if he might come in. Mrs. Lorrimer looked inquiringly at Valerie, who nodded shyly, and she bade him enter.

  Half diffidently he opened the door and approached the bed. While he was asking how she was — and she was thanking him prettily for his hospitality — she was thinking: “So this is John’s friend . . . now nice!”

  “I’ve just been with John,” he went on. “He’s awake and feeling very fit. I expect the doctor will let you both get up tomorrow.”

  When he had gone Mrs. Lorrimer told her how he had battled with death over her unconscious body, and she was filled with a great tenderness towards the young man.

  Dr. Gaunt was the next visitor, and expressed himself much pleased with their condition.

  Downstairs he confirmed Tony’s guess that they might get up the following morning. Tony was highly delighted and remarked that he didn’t mind how long they had to stay. To Gaunt’s suggestion that they should carry on with the interrupted ceremony of last night he made an impatient reply.

  “No, Doctor, that can wait until they’ve gone. There’s plenty of time before the twenty-fifth. She’s very lovely, isn’t she?”

  The other nodded and turned his head away, so that Tony should not see the frown of annoyance he could not suppress. This delay was not at all to his liking.

  He said as much to Vaughan when next they were alone, but that gentleman was inclined to agree with Tony that they had better wait.

  Next morning the whole party met at the breakfast-table. Mrs. Lorrimer had dried and pressed Valerie’s clothes, and she looked very charming. Tony, in particular, could not keep his eyes off her. Hamilton, in a suit of Tony’s, which did not fit him very well, was quite left out of the conversation which they kept up and was forced to fall back on Dr. Gaunt. Vaughan, after the first introductions, said little, but he too kept turning his sleepy eyes in Valerie’s direction.

  After the meal Tony bore Valerie off to show her the Abbey, and Hamilton went with the others to the great hall, where they sat round the cavernous hearth smoking and talking. He found them delightful company, and time passed quickly. Outside the wind still roared with scarcely abated vigour, and with the dull pounding of the waves made a continual background to their conversation.

  When the two young people joined them the girl’s face was flushed, and her eyes were shining with excitement.

  “Oh, John,” she exclaimed, “isn’t this a marvelous place? You are lucky, Tony, to be able to stay here whenever you want to.”

  Hamilton noticed the “Tony” with a little pang of jealousy, but immediately reproached himself for the thought. He told himself he should be glad that she was getting on so well with his friend.

  “It’s all so ancient and splendid, somehow,” she went on. “But tell me, surely there’s some legend about a ghost or something, isn’t there?”

  Tony flashed a quick look at Gaunt, who nodded slightly.

  “Well, we’ve no real ghosts, as far as I know,” he answered. “But I suppose you are thinking of the family curse. It is said to have taken the form of a monster which inhabits the caves under the Abbey.”

  Valerie clapped her hands delightedly.

  “Oh, how perfectly splendid!” she cried. “It only wanted that to make it quite perfect. Have you ever seen it, Tony?”

  “No,” he answered slowly, “I can’t say I have. But you must ask Vaughan about that. He knows all about these things, and he’s actually come down here to investigate it.”

  “Really, Mr. Vaughan?” She turned to him, her big grey eyes suddenly serious. “Are you one of those psychic research people?”

  Vaughan gave a fat chuckle, and removed his cheroot.

  “Only an amateur, Miss Bennett,” said he. “I’ve studied these matters quite a lot, though, and I may say that I hope to expel the curse in time.”

  “Oh, but
you mustn’t! Or at least, if you do, don’t tell anyone it’s gone. All old houses must have their family ghost, you know.”

  “I think you could do without yours, eh, Tony?” Vaughan’s thick voice was quizzical.

  “Yes, I think I could,” Tony replied quietly.

  “Have you seen it, then, Mr. Vaughan?” Valerie demanded.

  “Once, Miss Bennett. But I’d rather not talk about it, if you don’t mind. It’s not a very pleasant subject.”

  “But how are you going to get rid of it?” she insisted. “I mean it’s not like rats, or dry-rot, or anything, is it?”

  “I am making my preparations. I shall be delighted to show them to you some time.”

  “Where are they?”

  “Down in the crypt below here.”

  “I should be frightfully scared.” She shivered. “But it’s most awfully thrilling, isn’t it, John? Let’s all go down, this afternoon.”

  “Very well, Miss Bennett, if you wish it,” said Vaughan, and adroitly changed the subject.

  But Valerie did not forget the promise, and after lunch they all descended to the crypt.

  Hamilton was surprised to find how familiar it all seemed, since he could not remember ever having been down there before.

  Valerie was vastly intrigued by the elaborate diagram, upon which they walked quite freely, and by the seals on the altar. Vaughan explained them to her in a vague manner, using terms with which she was unfamiliar, and finally she gave up the effort of following him and confessed that it was too deep for her. She asked if they could go on into the caverns beneath, but Vaughan promptly quashed the suggestion with a vivid account of the dangers of falling rocks and hidden pitfalls.

  In the evening they played bridge, while Vaughan sat reading, and all retired early to bed, the two castaways keeping their original rooms to avoid troubling Mrs. Lorrimer unduly.

  As Hamilton was climbing into bed there came a knock at his door, and Lorrimer entered.