Let him who calls The Black
Be aware of the danger
His victim may be protected
By the spell of running water
And turn the called up darkness
Against the very caller . . .
Hence, I believe, Geoffrey's remarkable lines. Exactly what happened to the Ptetholites has gone unrecorded, or such records have been destroyed, except for the vaguest of hints in the most obscure tomes. There are, I now know, certain monks of a peculiar order in Tibet who know and understand many of these things. If history did pass down anything but the most sketchy details of the destruction of the Ptetholites such records were probably burned in the time of the witch hunts of the 16th and 17th centuries; certainly, except in those few cases I have mentioned, such knowledge is non-existent today.
Apart from this information from Arkham the remaining results of my research were disappointing.
One thing was positive though; I had now definitely given up my theory of sell-induced death through fear. Both Symonds and Chambers had been far too intelligent ever to have succumbed to the suggestions of any witch-doctor and besides — there was that disturbing thing about Chambers' shadow. Moreover, Gedney was certainly no quack witch-doctor and somehow I felt sure that he had access to a very real and destructive magical device. The final telegram I received from America convinced me.
I have great faith in Abdul Alhazred, whom many have called the 'mad' Arab, and while my copy of F eery's Notes on the Necronomicon is hardly what one could call a reliable guide, Alhazred's actual book, or a translation of it, at Miskatonic University, is something else again. My learned friend had found a dream-reference in the Necronomicon in which The Black was mentioned. The said reference read thus:
. . . from the space which is not space, into any time when the Words are spoken, can the holder of the Knowledge summon The Black, blood of Yibb-Tstll, that which liveth apart from him and eateth souls, that which smothers and is called Drowner. Only in water can one escape the drowning; that which is in water drowneth not . .
This was the foundation I needed upon which to build my plan. A hazardous plan, but — taking into account how touchy Gedney appeared to be about people threatening him — one which was sure to produce results.
Soon I began to put my plan into operation. First, in the guise of a drunk, I frequented the places Gedney used when pursuing his jaded pleasures. Eventually, in a dingy night-club, I had him pointed out to me for future reference. This was hardly necessary, for Chambers' description fitted him perfectly and from it alone I would have recognized the man had the place not been so crowded and dimly lighted.
Next I made it known, in conversation with people I knew to be directly connected with Gedney, that I was a former friend of both the dead men and that from what they had told me of Gedney he was an abominable creature whom, if the opportunity presented itself, I would gladly expose. I put it about, drunkenly, that I was collecting a dossier on him which I intended eventually to present to the appropriate authorities. But though I play-acted the part of a regular inebriate the truth is that I have never been more sober in my entire life. Dealing such antagonistic cards to Gedney, I was sure, would produce results which only a very sober person could hope to turn to his advantage.
Yet it, was over a week before my assault took effect. I was in the dimly lit Demon Club, slumped in a typically alcoholic attitude against the bar. Perhaps I was overacting, for before I realized Gedney was even in the place I found him at my elbow. I had been forewarned of his overpowering character but even so I was unprepared for the meeting. The man radiated power. He was so tall that I, myself six feet tall, had to look up at him. Typically dressed in a cloak with a flaring collar and with his dark, hypnotic eyes, he gave an impression of amused tolerance — which I knew was forced.
'Mr Titus Crow, I believe? Need I introduce myself? No, I thought not; you already know me, or think you do. Let me tell you something, Mr Crow. You- are following a very dangerous trail. I am sure you get my meaning. Take my advice, Mr Crow, and let sleeping dogs lie. I've heard of you. An occultist of sorts; a mere dabbler, one I would not normally bother with. Unfortunately you're blessed with an unpleasant turn of mind and a slanderous tongue. My advice is this; stop poking your nose into matters which do not concern you before I am forced to take reprisals. How about it, Mr Crow?'
'Gedney,' I said, 'if I am correct you are the very foulest kind of evil and you have access to knowledge the like of which, in your hands, is an abomination and a threat to the sanity of the entire world. But you don't frighten me. I shall do my level best to prove you are responsible for the deaths of at least two men and will play whatever part I can in bringing you to justice.'
It was important to let Gedney know I was onto something without making him feel that I had any tricks up my sleeve. Having said my piece and without waiting for an answer, I brushed past the man and staggered out into the late evening. Quickly I lost myself amidst the pleasure seekers and made my way to my car. Then I drove to Blowne House and set up my defences.
I live alone and the next night, as I was making the rounds of Blowne House before retiring, I found that a blank envelope had been dropped through my letter-box. I had expected it. I knew exactly what I would find inside the thing; not that I intended to open it. I was not entirely convinced that Gedney's powers were magical and there was always the chance that the card within the envelope was heavily impregnated with some deadly and obscure poison; a poison which, of necessity, would have to have the power- of almost instant dispersal.
I fully anticipated the next occurrence, but even so I still froze solid for an instant when my telephone rang. I lifted the receiver an inch from the cradle and let it fall,
breaking the connection. I was obliged to repeat this action three times in the course of the next half-hour; for while I have been guilty of certain follies in the past, one of them was never indiscretion — or lunacy as it would have been to answer that 'phone.
Symonds had died answering his 'phone, and whether it was a case of hearing a trigger-word in connection with some post-hypnotic suggestion or other which Gedney had previously supplied — or the more fanciful one of hearing an invocation — I was not sure; and I was certainly not eager to learn.
Then, though I waited a further twenty minutes, the telephone remained silent. It was time for the action to begin.
Gedney, I reasoned, must now have a damned good idea that I knew just a bit too much for his good. The fact that I- would not answer my 'phone showed that I obviously knew something. If I had merely disconnected the 'phone on receipt of the envelope there was the possiblity that Gedney on getting no dialling-tone,-might have thought I was not at home. But he had heard the receiver lifted and dropped. He knew I was at home and if he had taken the trouble to check up on me he must know I lived alone. I hoped my refusal to answer his call had not frightened him off.