Devil's Tor

by David Lindsay

  What could be such a fragment of stone? She was impatient to get upstairs to her dressing-gown, in order to make sure that it was still there, and to inspect it again more particularly. For instance, could it be a specimen piece of ore from some rich mine they had struck in eastern Asia, and was it to make their fortunes? Her mother perhaps would tell her afterwards—though the possession of a mere specimen could hardly be a matter for a quarrel, the location of the mine itself being known to them all. … And she did not think it was that. This person, standing ponderingly before her, evidently still debating in his mind whether it was worth his while to pursue Hugh Drapier in the fog—he had neither the greed nor the financial sharpness in his face that would speak of the chase after riches; while the other, Mr. Arsinal, Hugh had only mentioned in connection with his study of the ancient worship of the Great Mother. …

  Then again, why was it just here that they were all assembling? For Mr. Arsinal might yet be to arrive. This locality was the nearest to Devil's Tor, which was in the hour of throwing out its wonders. And there, long ago, one had been buried who in her lifetime and after might well have passed for divine. Hugh, it seemed, had not known the Tor; but Arsinal might know it; and this disputed stone, a token of the Mother-Goddess, might somehow belong to and be to illustrate the Tor. …

  The man in the room—she could not place him at all in such a business. There was no reverence of ancient things in his aspect, he could not possibly be a student of the old; yet neither, obviously, was he a mere messenger or subordinate. He must assuredly be the chief, or a chief, in any business he engaged in.

  Just because he appeared so very much of the outside world, and was not to be conceived of as being in the slightest degree interested in occult concerns, or as having any other purpose for his visit than a practical one, nowise seeming to touch any of these progressive strangenesses—just because of this, Ingrid was unable to discard as ridiculous the fancy that he too might be involved. For since his active will must still be blind and unconscious about any such fated part for him, that would be the sign.

  But of his mode of life she was quite ignorant, except that it was manifest he was used to exposure, and roughness, and perhaps danger. She regarded his coming here at all as very strange, very ominous; and from now onwards began to wonder painfully in what manner he was to be employed.

  Chapter XIV

  HUGH'S RETURN

  Thicker white mists rolled past the windows, and Ingrid kept picturing Devil's Tor on such a morning; and Hugh was there. She did not know why she was feeling so fearful on his account. It was as if a voice were saying within her that he was in grave distress on the hill. …

  So quickly did the idea mount to conviction, that it occurred to her if the others too could be receiving the message, that they were thus quiet and waiting. But a rapid inquiring glance at their faces told her nothing.

  Yet during a whole minute perhaps all the three, herself included, had been standing there, dumb, uneasy, and pursuing their own thoughts; so that an outsider might have imagined them less a group of conversing persons than a strange spirit triangle performing some silent rite in the darkened room. Now she doubted whether Saltfleet ever had been rehearsing his plans since his last speech; the expression of his face, when she had stolen her glance at it, had somehow been less practically considering, more troubled. The trouble in it might be because of an evil sensation concerning Hugh—surely, there was no reason why such a communication should not be made to more than one!... But he looked the unlikeliest man for it. …

  The toneless ticking of the mantelpiece clock, which measured the stillness of the room, was just as full of dark meaning to her in her present disquiet. It, certainly, was not speaking of Hugh, and yet this dead silence, permitting its ticking to be heard, was fated; and so it was speaking of Hugh. Similarly, might not Saltfleet's pause from speech, that was the reverse of the same fatality, be both due to some ordinary working of his is brain, and, unknown to himself, connected with Hugh? The first words to break the silence should be significant. …

  She could not speak again uninvited, but she longed for him to return to the present and definitely decide to go up to Hugh at once. She would have guided him, had not her ankle been still so useless. Peter was not here, to send to the Tor; but in any case she would feel safer and happier if this man went. Energy, hard resolution, sufficiency, command, were impressed on all his features; no better support in a physical emergency could be procured. If only he would be off quickly!...

  It was Ingrid herself, however, that was the cause of her mother's contribution to the general silence. For in the unnatural morning dusk of the room the girl's face loomed palely, like some young prophetess's, and, with its fair long-featured beauty, passiveness, yet illusion of a kind of perplexed pain in the away-slanting eyes, intensifying nearly to anguish, was presenting a spectacle not easy to understand, that Helga knew the caller was quietly absorbing all the while, even though his regard was never directly upon her child. His quiescence, indeed, could not be ignored, it was grown so absolute. The situation might be thought to be fast becoming peculiar.

  Helga was holding her own peace, in part certainly because she wished to hint to her daughter to go again, but principally because she wanted time to feel whether this faint initiation of a new fear stood for something in itself, or whether it were an outflowing from her whole instinctive shrinking from Saltfleet. It seemed to her essential that she should know that. For if it was from general instinct, then so too might be her nameless dread in Hugh's case.

  His final threats, which she was still to learn, would show whether she had been unjust and unreasonable, or he was universally abominable; since if he could meditate lawless violence in one set of circumstances, his soul altogether must be of a hateful stamp. … But the worst of all was that she could see how extremely attractive he might be to certain women. Ingrid scarcely yet seemed to her to be grown up, and yet in all things, except actual experience of the world, she was really exceptionally mature; and her intelligence was of the finest. …

  It was so absurdly impossible, and still so near; as a person might feel secure from death on a thin sheet of swaying ice. For instance, he was already to dine with them. That first invitation would dictate a second, and a third. He could deliberately protract his business with Hugh, and ingratiate himself generally with the Whitestone establishment. He should have very fascinating manners when unarmed. …

  Next, she took it all back; and in one complex surge of feeling was bewildered and distressed by her crudity in sinking so facilely to the common modes of thought of her sex, and still was the more frightened of the man because this latest inchoate alarm was shown to be without any but the flimsiest foundation. For it was all based on a silence of a few moments and a fortuitous contiguity in space; but the truth was, he did not look in the least like a person who would dally with women, nor was Ingrid a girl to cast away her dignity for the sake of a strange man. Then the silly apprehension, unpleasant enough for the few moments it had lasted, must actually have originated in her unconscious appraisal of his general character. He was to be, for her, one who might attempt or do anything. And yet why should she be crediting him with such a capacity for evil? He should at all events be a sincere and honest gentleman, obeying the canons of his education. Surely, he would just as little dream of violence towards Hugh. … And again, because both these fears were shown to be extravagant and irrational, while her fear of his nature was to persist even after their dismissal, so she discovered herself the more superstitiously repelled by him, more and more repelled and attracted by him. In what did the secret of his dangerousness consist?—would the time and occasion be hers to ascertain this? He would be gone within five minutes, but she must see him again. …

  Then she suddenly wondered if he were married. …

  Saltfleet, in fact, rather shunned the society of women, and, at thirty-six, was not married. With no active principle of aversion from the sex, he still told
himself that the ways, tastes, desires, interests, instincts, and whole attitude to life, of women must perforce be so at variance with his own as a man, that any union of sentiment would entail the largest sacrifices on one side or the other; but, since no woman on earth probably could discard her sensuous, picturesque, and snobbish nature, it would nearly certainly be he that must conform. Against this, was the condition of his existing at all on the planet as a male; he recognised his liability at any time to a sexual storm, sweeping him off his feet. As one more interruption of the deadly monotony of life, it would be welcomed when it came, but he trusted to steer clear of insanity in his choice of the woman so to overwhelm him. Beauty he shrugged at, delicacy, refinement and culture were things of course, a sharp or sullen temper would be fatal; otherwise, he insisted only on character. He wished a companionship of contempt for the small and insipid in the world. Such a wife should not be practically unrealisable; yet the years glided by, and the women thrown to him by chance were all flawed. He was content to have the hardest things said about him. …

  Helga accordingly was right in imagining his present silent preoccupation with her daughter, but wrong in attributing it to the beginning of an admiration. The unusualness of the girl's beauty alone would have made him a little subdued and thoughtful—particularly that queer, almost metaphysical light of her eyes, that was new to him in a woman, and should point to the possession of a singular soul. Nevertheless, though he was to meet her again more intimately, it seemed, had that been all it would have gone no further than such a careless impersonal appreciation of a young daughter in a strange house, very much his junior.

  His business was with Drapier. He had been told where he was, he had made the necessary arrangements for getting hold of him, so there was really no more to detain him on the spot; but now this girl had suddenly introduced herself in the affair, and the more he thought of it, the more it appeared to him as if it might matter.

  Her evident pride and distance of spirit, with her anxious air, cold address, and unconcealed progressive bewilderment—for one thing, she could not have all her mother's facts, she was in darkness about some part of the transaction, yet she was just as obviously interested, and a light was dawning on her, that he felt might be a new light for him as well. He believed it would be worth his while to spin out the interim, if it was to occupy not more than a minute or so. In herself, it was the transparent truth-weighing of her eyes and manner that had the effect of suggesting to him that she should be, not the centre, but the height of this household. She should have so great an influence. …

  And in Drapier's conduct, all was by no means yet clear. There was a mystery afoot between him and his cousin, this Mrs. Fleming, of which he, Saltfleet, had heard possibly half the account, and the girl in the room another part. … Well! if he had no luck during the day, he would accept that invitation to dinner, and see the girl again, and try to get her story quietly. He already trusted her to tell him no lies, hold nothing back that was not confidential.

  He could find no way of obtaining a private talk with her until then. …

  Helga comprehended at last that he was not to resume and end his business, nor her daughter to take her departure, until she herself should give the signal. She was convinced that Ingrid was sensing a strangeness in the matter, and was lingering in the room, not from any active inquisitiveness, but instinctively, to learn more of it. It was so unlike her to fail in tact. However, she must be dismissed—and next, Saltfleet for Hugh might soon be back, and they were not to meet. She could acquaint Ingrid with the simple outline of the story and how he was to dine with them... and then perhaps the child would help her to dissuade him from pursuing Hugh on the moor; so superfluously, from his point of view, so dreadfully, from hers.

  She caught at Ingrid's arm, to say:

  "You must know, dear, Hugh made the acquaintance of Mr. Saltfleet and a friend in Tibet, only a little while before his return; and there they entrusted to him for safe-keeping a certain valuable. Now Mr. Saltfleet is here to reclaim it. … He is putting up at the 'Bell', and has consented to take dinner with us this evening, to meet Hugh. So the sensible view seems to be that it is perfectly unnecessary to go after him in this fog, when in any event they will be seeing one another in a few hours more. An out-of-the-way spot like Devil's Tor will be exceedingly hard to locate by a stranger to the district, on such a day. Isn't it so?"

  Ingrid returned her mother a perturbed look. That some of her fancies had thus hit the mark gave her no pleasure; she was conscious only of her unquiet heart because of Hugh, while, as a background, dully wondering what her mother wanted, that she should be so reluctant to let this man seek him on the Tor.

  "If Mr. Saltfleet has travelled in Tibet," she answered spiritlessly, "I should think he ought to have no difficulty in finding Devil's Tor at least."

  Then, to the surprise of both the others, she turned with an unexpected swift impulsiveness to Saltfleet himself.

  "Since I am consulted, I wish you would try to get in touch with Hugh Drapier."

  "You have something for him?" he suggested, puzzled.

  "No; but there is a disagreeable idea in my head that all isn't well with him."

  Saltfleet viewed her.

  "May I ask if it has any foundation?"

  "No. … But twice already he has been nearly killed on the same Tor, in two days."

  "A sinister spot! I presume, by the lightning and earthquake you before mentioned?"

  "Yes."

  "Then that has probably affected your imagination, and it is an example of unconscious superstition. However, I shall be happy to end your anxiety if I can, and I will be off in another minute."

  Though he had never smiled, his mouth gave Ingrid the same impression as smiling, and some quick access of dislike and pride impelled her not to wait here for his departure, but to make her own excuses forthwith. So, with a simple word of thanks to him for his promised service, and another of apology for her intrusion, she left the room.

  The two remaining facing each other alone were silent again for a moment. Then Saltfleet said:

  "I fancy I can't be wrong in thinking that you are rather definitely against my pursuing Drapier this morning, and your motive, I conceive, is that you want to get in your first word with him—which, on your private information, of which I know nothing, may be a quite sensible and wise precaution. Now that I have pledged myself to your daughter, I must go. But, as you point out, it is very possible that I may miss him; so, in case you do secure your talk in advance, I beg you to make the situation entirely clear to him.

  "I am aware we cannot proceed by law. Arsinal must decide how we are to proceed. But Drapier cannot be so eccentric as to be incapable of receiving a serious warning, and accordingly I do warn him here and now, through you, Mrs. Fleming, that we did not undertake that trip to Tibet merely that he might add to his personal museum an object to which he may have taken an unprogressive fancy. … Please assure him as forcibly as you know how, that we shall incur new risks and further disagreeables, rather than resign in so cowardly a way a thing that by the laws of acquisition and priority belongs to us, and by that of honour definitely does not belong to him. I have quite identified myself with Arsinal in this business. I will take from Drapier neither the open cynical flouting of our just claim, nor a postponement on any account whatsoever. We shall listen to no proposals."

  Helga had grown very pale.

  "A quarrel won't help you, Mr. Saltfleet."

  "The dispute in words will not help us, I admit. … So now we are back to where I shied before! Very well! We mean this I am speaking for Arsinal too. If pushed, we shall not hesitate to resort to action to get back our property."

  "You mean violence?"

  "It sounds unreal; and in fact I am aware that we are here in England, the great stronghold of legal security. But we are vastly concerned, so that, short of utter lunacy of operation, we shall actually stick at nothing. … I repeat Arsinal will range himself besi
de me in this. He is a man who will always sacrifice to principle; while I can be exceedingly hard when exasperated. Drapier will be unwise to put these assertions to the test."

  "I certainly hope the need will not arise," rejoined Helga coldly, "for this I know of Hugh Drapier, that he comes of a very hard stock himself, and is the last man to be frightened from a course by threats. I think I won't do you the disservice to pass on any such message. If he's merely being restrained by personal regard for you both, the open breach will give him exactly what he needs. As to a risk, I don't doubt he will be very well able to take care of himself."

  "I can't insist that you shall serve as intermediary; so I shall try to see him myself."

  "And I cannot prevent that. Yet promise me, Mr. Saltfleet, that in case you do meet outside this house before I have spoken to him, there will not be anything—fatal to the later understanding."

  "You mean, an assault! But the unqualified promise is rather difficult. I am ready enough to undertake that in the event of a clear-cut disagreement between us, the principle I shall act on will be the simple recovery of our article, with the least expenditure of time and temper. I am equally ready to assure you that I am really too little concerned with your cousin personally to bear him any grudge for the attempted embezzlement, beyond the heat necessarily generated in the act of prevention. … Pray understand that I am nowise trying to intimidate you—especially as, according to your own account he is not the sort of man to be so coerced. I am informing him, through you, that we are determined, by fair means or foul, to get back the prize we won in Tibet."

  "Tell me straight out—supposing that you do meet him alone, and he confesses to having it on him, or you strongly suspect it..."

  Saltfleet moved impatiently.

  "The precise shape of an affair depends on so many factors. If he carried the stone, it stands to sense it would be my best opportunity to get it from him. If he refused it, I should doubtless become annoyed. Farther than that, it would hardly be possible to predict."