Dark Sanctuary

by H. B. Gregory

  He found that the others had waited for him, and soon the four of them were sitting round the breakfast-table, eating and talking cheerfully. The rector had told Valerie and Hamilton that Tony had made his peace with God at the young man’s own request, but even if he had not done so the inward light which shone through his eager face would have told its own story.

  His blue eyes were calm and happy and his lips were set in firm lines, but with no trace of grimness. This was the old Tony, thought Hamilton; but there was a repose and sense of purpose about him which had been lacking in the old days. There was humility also in the manner in which he deferred to the old priest over some trivial matter, which almost brought a lump into his friend’s throat, so different was it from the arrogant and carefree boy he used to know.

  When the meal was over and tobacco-smoke was perfuming the air of the study Tony broached the matter of his return to the Abbey.

  The rector took his pipe from his mouth and regarded him steadily.

  “You still feel that the matter is important, then?” he asked.

  “Tremendously important, Father,” Tony answered with quiet emphasis. “You do not know Gaunt as I do. His power is terribly real, and he is absolutely certain that, when he releases this horror, it will do incalculable harm.”

  “If that is so I cannot think that God will permit it,” said the old man, “but since you feel to some extent responsible it is only right that you should endeavour to prevent him. How you will set about it I do not profess to know. You know more about these matters than I do. At all events the storm seems to be practically over. We will go down to the harbour this morning and see what the sea looks like.”

  Shortly afterwards Hamilton, Tony, and the rector set off. As soon as they reached the cliff path they could see that there was little hope of making a crossing at once. Although the wind had dropped to a mere breeze, the waves were mountainous, and dashed upon the rocks below with terrific force.

  Down at the harbour the position was even clearer. All the boats, including Tony’s launch, had been beached, and the harbour mouth was impassable. The rector asked one of the little knot of fishermen standing on the quay if there were any possibility of getting to the island, but the man shook his head decidedly.

  “Not today, Father,” he said. “I’ve never seen a sea like this, not in thirty year. ’Taint natural, not after such a little blow.”

  Tony looked sharply at his companions, as much as to say, ‘I told you so!’ But without further words they returned to the rectory.

  Before going in they stopped on the steep path and looked across to where the island lay. It looked so near, but it was as remote — cut off by that stretch of heaving water — as if it had been on the moon. Tony wondered desperately what was going on there, but he said nothing.

  After lunch Hamilton and the rector went for a walk, leaving Tony, who seemed disinclined for exercise, sitting by the study fire. He stared into the heart of the glowing coals, smoking cigarette after cigarette, gradually sinking deeper into the pit of despondency. After his exaltation of the morning this setback was all the more depressing.

  He was roused from his gloomy reverie by a light touch on his shoulder, and Valerie sat down on the settee beside him. He offered her a cigarette, and when it was lit she said:

  “Tony, you mustn’t give way like this. Everything will be all right. Things can’t be as bad as you think.”

  “But they are — perhaps worse,” he countered. “If I can’t get over there in time there’s no telling what may happen.”

  “Uncle seems to think that God won’t let them do any harm,” she reminded him.

  “I know, but I can’t feel so sure. It would entail direct intervention, you see, and it is an axiom among these Satanists that no direct intervention has taken place since the birth of Christ. There must always be a human agent to carry out the Divine Will. I had hoped to be that agent in this case.”

  “And if God doesn’t choose you you will lose your trust in Him? Oh, Tony, I thought better things of you than that!”

  “I want to justify your faith in me, Valerie. That wish has been the mainspring of my actions ever since you came to Kestrel.”

  “I’m glad,” she said simply. “But you must accept God’s providence. He will do what He thinks best, in His own time.”

  “I’ll try, but it’s desperately hard. You are very good to me, Valerie.”

  “You have been good to me, Tony. Twice you have saved me, once from death and once from something far worse. I can never repay you for that.”

  “God knows I want no repayment. I would lay down my life for you — you know that, Valerie. I have loved you from the first moment I set eyes upon your blessed face. Do you think you could care for me a little?”

  There was infinite pleading in his voice, but he did not look at her. Touched to the heart, she laid her hand on his.

  “I’m terribly fond of you, Tony.”

  Quickly he turned and caught her, incredulous wonder in his eyes.

  “You mean that, my darling?”

  “Of course I mean it,” she answered softly.

  “I never dared to hope — I can’t believe — If — when all this is over, will you marry me? I need you so!”

  She had not meant all that he took for granted, but faced with the eagerness in his eyes she knew that she could not draw back. Refusal would hurt him horribly. Very quietly she whispered:

  “Yes, Tony, I’ll marry you if you want me.”

  “My precious darling!”

  He drew her close, kissing her sweet mouth, tenderly at first, then passionately, straining her against him as if he would never let her go. For a moment she only submitted to his ardour, then the young passion rose in her also and her arms went about his neck.

  So they remained for many minutes while the world went by unheeded, but at last he released her and she lay quiet in his arms, her eyes closed. His senses were reeling as he kissed her hair, whispering:

  “Dear heart, I can face anything now. I’ll never be afraid any more.”

  She looked up at him shyly, but said nothing, hiding her lovely face in his breast.

  When they heard the sound of the rector and Hamilton coming in she gently disengaged his arms and stood up, patting her disheveled curls into place.

  “Let me tell John, Tony dear,” said she. “I’m afraid he’s in love with me too, and this will be rather a blow for him.”

  “Of course.” Tony was all sympathy. “Poor old John, I can understand how he’ll feel.”

  So when Hamilton entered, bringing with him a breath of the keen fresh air, Tony slipped out without a word.

  “What’s the matter with him?” inquired Hamilton, sitting down beside the girl; “he looked a bit queer.”

  “It’s all right, John,” she answered; “I’ve got something to tell you, and I’m afraid it’s going to hurt you rather.”

  He looked at her sharply, and she went on:

  “Tony has asked me to marry him, and I have agreed.”

  Hamilton sat like a graven image. Not a muscle of his face moved. His voice was perfectly controlled as he said:

  “I’m glad, Valerie. I hope you will be very happy.”

  “Thank you, John dear. I knew you’d take it well. You’re such a splendid sport. There’s no need to pretend. I know you love me, and I’m tremendously proud, but Tony needs me so much more than you do. He’s so helpless and weak sometimes. You are so strong, so self-sufficient. You will get over it — he wouldn’t. I just couldn’t turn him down; he’s had so much trouble lately, and this would have broken his heart.”

  “Do you love him? Forgive me, but I have the right to ask.”

  “I can, I must. I’m frightfully sorry for him, and most awfully fond. I shall do my best to make him happy.”

  “I know that, bless you. If it was anyone but Tony I would not give you up so easily, but since I love you both I must accept your decision. My dear, you have a great heart. God
grant it may never be broken.”

  He took her hand and raised it to his lips. Then he stood up, smiling slightly to hide the pain, and went out, his head erect.

  Valerie thought he had never looked so fine as he did then: his face pale beneath its tan, and his crisp dark hair ruffled slightly with the wind. A sudden pang of regret shot through her heart, but she stifled it resolutely. She had made her choice, and she must abide by it or be for ever shamed.

  Chapter XIX

  Tony awoke with a feeling that something very wonderful had happened. Then he remembered — Valerie loved him and had promised to marry him. He lay still and thought of the happy hours they had spent together; how Hamilton had shaken him warmly by the hand, frankly envious of his good fortune; and how the rector had blessed them both. A deep sense of happiness pervaded his whole being, and he thanked God for this great gift with a full heart.

  It was some minutes before he realized how hot it seemed and how strange was the early-morning light that filtered in through the window.

  He got out of bed with something of an effort and flung the casement wide, leaning out. There was no wind, and the still air was dry and parched. The sun was invisible, hidden by a thin haze, through which it shone with a dull coppery light. How still it was! No birds were singing in the garden, no gulls crying about the cliffs. Perhaps the sea also would be calm, and he would be able at last to get back to Kestrel. There was little time to spare, he thought, beginning to dress slowly; today was the twenty-fourth and at noon on the morrow Gaunt would set his fiendish plan in operation.

  Valerie was pale and quiet when she appeared at the breakfast-table. The heat oppressed her, she said, and she had a headache. It was generally agreed that the extraordinary change in the weather must have come at about three o’clock that morning, for the rector remembered having woken at about that hour, throwing some of the coverings from off his bed.

  When the meal was over they all went out on to the cliffs in front of the house. A dense haze, of the same hue as the sky, hung over the sea. They could just make out the water at the foot of the cliffs, and it appeared to be dead calm, but farther out the mist was impenetrable, and the island was hidden from their anxious eyes. Full of hope, Tony led the way down to the harbour.

  Here they found an extraordinary state of affairs. Every able-bodied member of the village’s small population seemed to be on the waterfront. They were standing about in groups, talking excitedly and pointing out to sea. The mist was thickening rapidly, pouring in through the harbour mouth in great clouds.

  Who first observed the little party from the rectory it was impossible to say, but it was only a matter of seconds before everyone knew of their presence. The talking ceased abruptly and scores of pairs of eyes were turned towards them.

  The rector spoke sharply, asking the nearest what the matter was, but they only shuffled their feet, avoiding his gaze. From the back of the crowd a sudden muttering sprang up, to be instantly silenced as the old man turned his eyes in that direction. Spying one of his own servers, he made for him, the people falling back to let him through.

  Taking the boy by the arm, he spoke to him. The other hesitated for a moment then burst into voluble speech, flinging his arm seawards. His tones were too low for Hamilton and his companions to hear what he said, and Valerie moved closer to Tony, catching his hand.

  “What does it mean?” she whispered anxiously.

  Tony shook his head.

  “We shall soon know,” he answered, for the rector was returning, his face grave.

  “Come,” he said when he reached them, “we can’t talk here.”

  They turned back towards the rectory, and as soon as they were out of earshot of the crowd he told them what he had learned.

  “It seems that just before sunrise this morning two of the men went down to the quay to find out how rough the sea was. To their surprise, a dead calm had fallen, and they were just going back to their homes when one of them noticed the Abbey, just visible in the dawn. It sounds incredible, I know, but they swear that a heavy mist was pouring from the battlements and spreading over the sea about the island. They thought at first that the place was on fire, and that it was smoke they saw, but no flames appeared, and the mist went on spreading. Soon the island was hidden, and now it has reached the land, though it doesn’t seem to come any further. It’s getting thicker on the water every minute.”

  Tony, white to the lips, uttered one word:

  “Gaunt!”

  “That’s what the people think,” continued the rector. “They know that your two former friends are still on Kestrel and they are convinced that they are working witchcraft. I expect Tregellis has been talking.”

  “They’re probably quite right,” Tony groaned. “He couldn’t keep the storm up any longer, so now he has hidden the island in a fog. I couldn’t find it now, no matter how I tried.”

  “Oh, I’ve no doubt it’s still there;” the rector made a valiant attempt to be cheerful. “Don’t let us rate his power too high. But the tide-race is far too treacherous to navigate blind. You would be hopelessly lost.”

  No one said anything further — there seemed to be nothing to say. This last demonstration of Gaunt’s power — for it was impossible to regard it as anything else — had swept away the last shred of scepticism from the minds of them all.

  They climbed slowly back towards the rectory, Valerie clinging to Tony’s arm, and Hamilton, with the rector, a few paces behind. The scene was indescribably weird. There was the rectory, with the church behind, and the brow of the hill beyond, all clear in the ruddy light. On the other side of the path, a few yards of grass extended to the edge of the cliff, and beyond that there was nothing but an impenetrable wall of copper-coloured fog, rising sheer to the sky above, where it merged into the thin haze veiling the sun.

  Hamilton climbed over the wire fence and walked perilously close to the brink, thrusting out his arm. His hand and wrist were hidden in the dense vapour.

  “It feels hot,” he reported when he rejoined them, “and smells rather peculiar. Something like the smoke from a slag-heap.”

  They went indoors and discussed the problem until lunch-time without arriving at any conclusion. The most fantastic methods of reaching the island were suggested, from aeroplane to submarine, but all were rejected as valueless. The rector spent some time in church, but when he came back they could see at once that he had had no sign.

  All that day the heat grew stronger, until by evening the men had discarded their jackets, and were stretched out in deck-chairs on the lawn, their shirt-collars loosened, moving as little as possible. The very idea of food was nauseating, but Valerie, wearing a brief tennis frock, brought cooling drinks, and they all sat together talking, talking interminably.

  The fog over the sea had not changed at all, and hung in a great curtain for miles along the coast. Not a breath of air stirred; all animal life was hushed, and a deathly silence lay upon the sweltering land.

  Although the day had been dull the night was unusually light, for a queer reddish glow appeared to emanate from the fog-bank and from the veiled sky. They tried desperately to behave naturally, but each knew that the world stood on the brink of some terrible cataclysm. They went to bed at the usual hour, but no one closed his eyes during the long watches of that awful night.

  Hamilton, lying practically naked on top of the bed-clothes, his body damp with sweat, stared into the crimson gloom, thinking of Faustus’ last words.

  “Stand still, you ever-moving spheres of heaven, that time may cease, and midday never come!” he paraphrased. However slowly the hours dragged, they still went far too fast, for every tick of the clock brought nearer that fated moment when death and destruction would be loosed upon mankind.

  There was no hope for the world now, unless God intervened, he told himself. He had not intervened to stop the countless wars and famines, earthquakes, plagues and desolations of the past. Would He come now, in all His might and majesty, to save His
children from the final victory of the Adversary? Desperately Hamilton tried to believe that He would. He clenched his teeth, praying fiercely, savagely almost.

  At last, unable to bear the inaction any longer, he got up and poured the contents of his wash-stand jug over his head. The water was lukewarm and unrefreshing. He dried himself, slipped on some clothes, and went quietly downstairs and out into the garden.

  The light from the glowing sky was almost as strong as that of a full moon, and he walked up and down for a while, smoking his pipe. The air was stale and flat, burning the lungs.

  Presently he knocked out his pipe and went into the church, the door of which he found unlocked.

  Inside it was very dark, but he groped his way to a seat and sank down gratefully. It seemed a little cooler here, and not so difficult to breathe. A solitary white flame flickered before the Tabernacle, giving little illumination but shining brightly on the silver crucifix behind. He fixed his eyes upon this eternal symbol of hope and in a little while fell asleep.

  When he awoke a dim reddish light was struggling in through the small windows of the nave. He stretched painfully, stiff from his cramped position. His sleep had not refreshed him, and there was an unpleasant metallic taste in his mouth.

  He became aware of a faint whispering from one of the pews on the opposite side of the church, and was able to make out the figures of Tony and Valerie, sitting very close together. They, too, had sought this sanctuary during the night. They were aware of his presence, for when he moved his feet on the stone floor Tony looked round and called softly:

  “Are you awake, John?”

  Receiving an affirmative reply, he went on:

  “You looked so peaceful we hadn’t the heart to disturb you. The rector will be here presently to say Mass.”