Dark Sanctuary

by H. B. Gregory

  “Good heavens! You don’t mean to tell me there really is something in the legend, then?”

  Tony sighed wearily.

  “I can’t hope to explain, John, if you don’t understand what I mean. Suffice it that she was nearly frightened out of her wits, in the same manner as my father was. If I had not arrived when I did she would be insane now, at the very least, if not literally dead from shock.”

  Hamilton sat silent, his face showing plainly the turmoil which was going on in his head. There was much he did not understand, much that he felt he ought to understand, but which, somehow, just eluded him.

  Vaughan, who by this time had recovered his voice, remarked suavely:

  “It might well have been a horrible tragedy, Sir Anthony. You know my views as to the nature of the curse. I wonder what can have possessed Miss Bennett to go down, after my warning.”

  Gaunt, taking his cue from the other, put in:

  “I don’t think you put it plainly enough, Vaughan. You spoke to her of purely physical dangers from falling rocks and so on. Miss Bennett probably did not appreciate the appalling spiritual dangers of the place. I am very glad you were in time, Tony.”

  Tony looked at his tutor so strangely that the doctor lowered his eyes and was silent. This was one of the very few occasions in his life upon which Gaunt did not feel master of the situation. As soon as he could he excused himself and withdrew, taking Vaughan with him.

  When they were gone, Hamilton spoke very gravely.

  “I can’t say ‘Thank you’, Tony,” he said. “This is the second time you have probably saved Valerie’s life. One doesn’t thank a person for saving one’s own life, and her life means more to me than that even.”

  He put out his hand, and Tony gripped it firmly, saying no less earnestly:

  “I know, John. You see, I love her too. Did you guess?”

  “I suspected as much. Well, we’re too old friends to quarrel over her. She must choose for herself. Good luck, old man.”

  “Thanks, John. Now look: we must get her away from here as soon as possible. After last night I dare not let her stay an hour longer than is absolutely necessary. The sea appears to be a little less rough today. It will be dangerous to attempt the crossing, but not, I think, so dangerous as to remain here. Are you game to risk it?”

  “Of course, if you think best. I’m afraid that even now I can’t realize the meaning of all this.”

  “You will one day.” There was a hint of sadness in Tony’s voice. “I’ve seen Valerie this morning and told her, so when she’s ready we’ll try to get across.”

  Less than an hour later Tony and Hamilton stood waiting in the kitchen, wearing oilskins. Hamilton still wore a vaguely puzzled expression, but the younger man’s face was a mask of grim determination.

  When Valerie joined them, her face pale and strained, looking ridiculously small in a macintosh belonging to Tony, Hamilton started towards her, saying:

  “Are you all right, Valerie? I can’t imagine — “

  But she cut him short with:

  “Please, John, not now. I’ll tell you all about it afterwards. I’m ready, Tony.”

  Hamilton fell back abashed and let Tony lead her out. Mrs. Lorrimer had followed Valerie downstairs and stood watching them, her kindly face lined with worry. Hamilton briefly bade her good-bye and followed the others.

  The launch was waiting at the landing-stage with her engine running. Lorrimer stood by and helped Valerie aboard. Tony followed her and sat down by Tregellis, who was at the wheel. As Hamilton came up the old servant said softly:

  “You still don’t remember, sir?”

  Receiving only a blank stare, he shook his head with a sigh and said:

  “Good-bye, sir, and a safe voyage.”

  Hamilton scrambled on board and sat down by Valerie in the stern. Tregellis threw the screw into gear, the water behind the boat began to boil, and they glided away, slowly at first, but with gathering speed as they passed through the narrow harbour mouth, from which the water-gate had now been removed. Hamilton looked back and saw Lorrimer, a forlorn figure, standing watching them go. Then they reached the open sea and the long struggle began.

  The wind had dropped to a stiff breeze, but it was raining heavily, and there was a strong sea running. Twice they were almost dashed against the rocks before they reached open water. Hamilton remembered vividly the last occasion upon which he and Valerie had been in a boat together, and he looked down at her. It was evident that the same thought was in her mind, for a small, cold hand crept into his, and he held it fast.

  The launch rolled horribly and shipped a good deal of water as it wallowed in the trough of the long rollers, but Tregellis knew his job, and made a long detour to the south to avoid the tide race between the island and the mainland. Perhaps three hours passed before they began to fight their way back towards Pentock.

  When at last they reached the quay they found the waterfront deserted and the boats beached. Even the fishermen had been forced to abandon their occupation by reason of the great storm.

  At the steps Hamilton jumped out and, turning, caught the girl as she followed. Tony remained in the launch. Hamilton exclaimed:

  “Aren’t you coming with us, Tony? The rector will be very pleased to see you, I know.”

  “No, John, thank you. I must get back to my friends. I have a bone to pick with them. Valerie will explain.”

  “Say good-bye to them for me,” replied Hamilton. “I quite forgot.”

  Tony made no reply, but told Tregellis to put about and make for Kestrel. Then he called across the widening space:

  “Don’t think too hardly of me, John. I’ve done my best.”

  “What does he mean?” Hamilton turned a puzzled face to Valerie, but she only caught his arm, saying:

  “Do hurry, John. We must get to the rectory before anyone sees us and rushes to tell Uncle we’re alive. His heart’s not too good, you know, and the shock might kill him. I’m terribly worried as it is.”

  He suffered her to lead him away, but still he kept looking back at the receding launch, with Tony’s figure sitting still and silent beside the helmsman, until it was out of sight behind the headland.

  Since their path did not lie through the village they met no one before reaching the rectory. The girl’s worry over her uncle had communicated itself to her companion by this time, and he was wondering desperately what he should say to the old man.

  The front door was unfastened and they walked in. There seemed to be no one about, so they went through into the kitchen, where they found Mrs. Drew, the housekeeper, washing crockery in the sink. She looked round as they entered, and for a moment it seemed as though she would faint, but she recovered herself and flung her wet arms round Valerie, crying:

  “Thank God, Miss Valerie, thank God! We thought you was drowned for sure.”

  Valerie calmed the good soul and asked her where the rector was.

  “In church, my dear. Where else should he be? He was nigh crazed at first, but now he does naught but pray.”

  “Come, John, we’ll go to him.”

  Hand in hand they went out into the dripping garden and through the churchyard.

  It was very dark in the little church, and at first they could not see the rector at all. Then they made out a slight figure kneeling among the shadows before the side altar upon which stood the Tabernacle. By a common impulse they quietly went up to him and knelt down, one on either side.

  So rapt in prayer was he that he was unaware of their presence for some minutes. At last he raised his grey head and looked first to the right and then to the left.

  Hamilton held his breath. Would this second shock be too much for him? But the serene face of the priest never altered, save that his mouth lost its rigid lines and softened into a gentle smile. Stretching out his arms, he put one round each of them and drew them close.

  “God has heard the prayers of an old man,” he whispered softly. “To Him be the glory! They told me
there was no hope, but they were wrong.”

  Back in the house once more, and sitting before a cheerful fire in the little study, Hamilton told their story, blaming himself bitterly for the original expedition which had ended so disastrously.

  When he had finished, the rector said:

  “I expect Valerie was as much to blame as you, John. I know her ways, bless her! But don’t talk of blame now. You have brought her safely back to me, and that’s all that matters. You were in God’s hands. When you didn’t come back to dinner I began to worry, thinking you were lost on the moors in the storm; but when they told me you had gone out in a dinghy we gave you up for lost. I must admit that it was one of the very few occasions upon which I have questioned the ways of the Almighty, but I got over that. I said a requiem for you this morning. I don’t suppose it did you any harm.”

  He chuckled softly, but there were tears in his eyes as he patted Valerie’s hand.

  “And now, my dear,” he said to her, “there is something sadly amiss with John’s story. I am very puzzled. Perhaps you can help me. He speaks of your dreadful adventure of last night as if he hardly believed it had happened at all. He never mentions the horror you must both have felt when you found yourself on that accursed island, with Anthony Lovell and his beastly friends. Can you explain this?”

  Hamilton sat there frowning. The priest’s words touched some lost chord in his mind, but he could not grasp it. It was as if a dense fog lay over part of his brain. He listened eagerly to Valerie’s words.

  “Yes, Uncle, I think I can help — a little,” said she. “I was like that too until this morning. It’s awfully hard to explain, but when I first woke up on Kestrel, after we were wrecked, I had no recollection whatever of anything you or John had told me about those two monsters who have got poor Tony in their power, or of the true nature of the secret order to which they all belong. I regarded Dr. Gaunt as an ordinary, kindly professional man, and his friend, Simon Vaughan, as a decent psychic investigator. I think John is still under the same delusion.”

  “Monstrous!” murmured the rector. “They undoubtedly worked upon your minds while you lay helpless and exhausted. John, do you mean to tell me you remember nothing of what we talked of so many times?”

  Hamilton knitted his brows.

  “I’ve been trying to remember,” he said hesitantly, “and now I do seem to recollect something very vague about it. But it all seems incredibly remote and fantastic. I can’t bring myself to believe in it at all now. Certainly it never crossed my mind while I was at the Abbey.”

  “Amazing! Tell me, Valerie, when did you remember?”

  “A few minutes after I dropped my lamp in the tunnel last night. At first I wasn’t a bit frightened — only worried lest I should be lost down there. Then, all at once, it came back to me. I realized where I was, and in whose power we were. It was as if a veil had suddenly dropped from my eyes. Then — it came!” She shuddered violently and stopped.

  The rector caught her hand.

  “Don’t think about that,” he commanded. “What happened afterwards — when you were safe?”

  Mastering her emotion with a struggle, she went on:

  “When I came round Tony was bending over me. As soon as I saw his poor face, so dreadfully distressed, I knew he wasn’t really one of them at heart. He told me everything this morning before we left. He believes that Dr. Gaunt deliberately made me go down into the caves to get rid of me. When he thought I was at the mercy of that horrible thing he must have released his control over my mind, and I remembered. That’s Tony’s explanation, anyhow.”

  “But why should Gaunt do such a thing,” asked Hamilton — “even supposing that it’s all true?”

  The girl blushed and lowered her eyes.

  “Tony said probably because Gaunt thought he was getting too interested in me. After that his one thought was to get me away as soon as possible. He wouldn’t let me see them again. I begged him to give up the whole thing, and come with us, but he said he was bound by the most frightful oaths, and couldn’t possibly. I feel dreadfully sorry for him.”

  “I wish he had come with you,” said the rector. “It is evident that he is not wholly with them, and I think I could make him change his mind, even now. His act in saving you must have weakened their hold over him a good deal. I only hope it won’t make it any harder for him.”

  Hamilton laughed suddenly, making them both stare at him.

  “I think you’re both taking it far too seriously,” he said. “It’s all nonsense, anyway. Such things don’t happen nowadays, if they ever did, which I very much doubt. If poor old Tony has gone potty, cooped up there with those two charlatans, there is no reason why we should.”

  “John,” said the rector gravely, “I wish you would make an effort to overcome this state of mind you are in. It’s going to be a great source of weakness to us if you don’t.”

  “I don’t see why I should come back to your point of view at all,” Hamilton returned. “It only seems to make you miserable. Life’s too short for tears.”

  “Jesus wept,” the rector reminded him.

  Hamilton laughed again, this time so rudely that Valerie jumped up with a little cry.

  “John! Don’t be a beast!” — and, bursting into tears, she fled from the room.

  “Excuse me a moment,” said the rector, and followed her.

  He found her in her bedroom, her face buried in the pillow, sobbing bitterly. He touched her quivering shoulder, and when she had quieted, he said:

  “Valerie, my dear, this won’t do. I know you have been grievously tried today, but you mustn’t give way now. John can’t help himself; I rather fancy they’re working on him now. That damnable link between his mind and Gaunt’s must be broken, and you’ve got to help me. Do you understand?”

  She lifted her tear-stained face and nodded.

  “I’ll try, Uncle. But it hurts to see him like that.”

  “Yes, my dear, I know; but be brave. Shall we go down now? I’m going to try and get him into church.”

  Downstairs Hamilton was sitting as they had left him. He felt vaguely sorry for having upset Valerie, but uppermost in his mind was a profound feeling of contempt for the rector’s foolish beliefs. He looked up at the crucifix on the wall and it was all he could do to keep himself from laughing aloud. That absurd little image! What good did they imagine it did? Idolatry! The word rose to the surface of his mind like a bubble of gas in a stagnant pond. They worshiped that painted doll, these foolish, wicked people. He became filled with righteous indignation, and, rising, unhooked the thing. As soon as it was in his hands a fierce hatred boiled in his veins, and he flung it into the fire with an exclamation of disgust.

  At that moment the door opened and the rector came in. Taking in the situation at a glance, he stood still, blocking the door, so that Valerie, behind him, should not see the blazing crucifix.

  “Nice work, John!” he say gaily. “Why not come into the church? We’ve lots more in there you can pull down, you know.”

  Hamilton stared at him. Was this stupid old fool laughing at him? No, he decided, he was not. For a moment he toyed with the idea of accepting the invitation, but a voice within him peremptorily forbade it. Muttering an apology, he pushed past them both, walked quickly to the front door, and out of the house.

  “After him, Valerie,” the rector ordered. “Don’t let him get away. Bring him into church somehow. His soul is at stake.”

  Gathering up the skirts of his cassock, the old man fairly ran out of the back door towards the church.

  The girl stood still, trembling all over. Then she plucked up her courage and followed Hamilton.

  He had only got as far as the lane when she overtook him. Slipping her arm through his, she snuggled against him. He stopped.

  What did she want? He stared down at her vaguely. He had thought he loved her once. Silly little fool!

  Then she turned her head, and her glorious eyes looked full into his. He felt himself s
lipping, drowning in their grey depths. Her red mouth curved invitingly. A great wave of desire swept over him, and he caught her in his arms, kissing her hungrily. He could feel her sweet, small breasts crushed against him.

  Meekly she submitted, and when he let her go, breathing heavily and trembling with passion, she caught him by the hand.

  “Come with me, John,” she breathed.

  Dumbly he let her lead him back, through the churchyard.

  At the door of the church he hesitated, but she looked back at him, and seeing nothing but her lovely face, he stumbled in after her. Like a flash she swung the heavy door shut, turned the key, and flung it far up the church.

  As it tinkled on the floor a blind rage swept through him. Thought they’d trapped him, did they? He’d show them! Turning, he began to batter at the unyielding door, even as Valerie had beaten at the altar-stone on Kestrel not so long before.

  All at once the darkness of his fury was pierced by the liquid tinkle of a bell. He swung round, caught his breath in a great sob, and fell back against the wall.

  The High Altar was ablaze with light, and in the midst of the golden glow stood the rector, clad in his sacerdotal vestments, the shimmering humeral veil about his shoulders swathing those consecrated hands which held aloft the glittering monstrance, rayed like the sun in splendour, with the white round of the Host gleaming at its heart.

  The moment his eyes fell upon the holy thing Hamilton felt a sharp pang of agony, like the thrust of a flaming sword, run through his whole being, and when the priest made the sign of the cross with It he uttered one shrill cry of anguish and fell headlong to the floor.

  When he opened his eyes again the rector and Valerie were kneeling beside him, and the girl’s face was wet with tears.

  “Don’t cry, Val darling,” he said weakly, “we’re safe now. Did the dinghy sink?”

  Chapter XVI

  I

  Nicholas Gaunt stood at one of the narrow windows of the tower room watching the retreating launch. When it was hidden by the mist of rain he turned to his companion, who sat near by, smoking his eternal cheroot.