The latter was sitting at his ease in a corner of the deep settee, which stood in front of the fire at right angles to the easy chair which Tony occupied. He was gazing at the glowing embers, apparently lost in reverie; his lean, hawk-like profile, firm lips, and level brows, beneath which the brilliant eyes were now half veiled, still as a bronze statue in the ruddy light.
The young man broke the silence with:
“Doctor, I’ve something to tell you.”
“I’ve been waiting for it, Tony. I knew you had.”
At the easy use of his Christian name Tony felt a queer little glow of warmth about his heart. Eagerly he plunged into the tale, repeating Lorrimer’s story almost word for word.
Gaunt heard it through without comment, his long, sensitive fingers held tip to tip on his knee. Only when Tony had finished did he turn his head and regard him steadily.
“So,” he said, “there is more in this than I at first suspected. Your father’s terror has infected his servant also. But we must not have you under its influence as well. Come, have you a torch?” He rose to his feet.
Tony stood up slowly, trembling. The telling of the weird tale had reawakened all his slumbering fears.
“Why, Doctor? What are you going to do?”
“If you have a portable lamp of any kind you and I are going down into that crypt, and I am going to show you that there is nothing there to be afraid of.”
“No, Doctor, no! I couldn’t — don’t ask me…!” Tony’s voice rose to a high note and his lips quivered.
With one stride Gaunt was beside him, gripping both his hands.
“Look into my eyes,” he commanded.
Almost unwillingly Tony obeyed, and as his own faltering gaze met the doctor’s level stare the tide of panic which had threatened to overwhelm him sank and passed away. As if in a dream he heard the words:
“Cast out fear. So that your soul be not afraid, there is no thing in Heaven or earth shall harm you.” And with the words, courage such as he had never known filled the young man’s heart, and without another word he turned to a heavy chest beside the fireplace and took out a small electric torch. He looked back at Gaunt, who nodded, and they crossed the stone flags together, passing under the great staircase.
Here they paused beside one of the flagstones, which differed from the rest in that it had an iron ring at its centre and a bolt at its edge. Tony released the bolt and with a mighty heave swung the ponderous trap up on its pivot, revealing a square well of blackness. Taking his torch he flashed the beam downwards, lighting the top of a steep flight of spiral stairs. With just a little effort of will he began to descend, Gaunt following close behind.
At the bottom of the steps they found themselves in a vaulted chamber, which stretched away far beyond the limits of the torch’s beam.
“I’ve never been down here before,” Tony whispered. “Which way shall we go?”
“Straight ahead, down that line of pillars,” Gaunt replied, in a voice so normal that Tony was almost shocked.
They followed the direction which the doctor had suggested until they reached a wall of natural rock. This they followed round until they came to the foot of the staircase once more. Another circuit of the place convinced Tony that there was no other exit, and, since there was nothing to be seen save the bewildering lines of pillars supporting the low roof, looking for all the world like trees in a petrified forest, there was nothing for it but to return the way they had come.
After he had lowered the trap into place Tony shot the bolt once more; but if Gaunt noticed the action he made no comment.
When they were back beside the fire, consuming brandy-and-soda, which Tony, at least, felt that he had earned, the doctor spoke:
“You see, Tony, there’s nothing down there to be afraid of.”
“No, there certainly doesn’t seem to be. Was it all imagination, then? On both my father’s part and Lorrimer’s?”
“Very probably. Remember, Lorrimer saw nothing. What he heard was probably the wind. It’s very calm tonight, but when it does blow I should imagine it makes itself heard.”
“That’s very true, Doctor. In a high wind you can hardly hear yourself speak sometimes.”
Soon afterwards they retired to their respective rooms.
Had Tony not been sleeping soundly he might have heard Gaunt leave his room some three hours later and pass along the gallery outside. He might, but even that is doubtful, for the doctor was wearing felt-soled shoes, and moved with infinite caution. He carried a flash-lamp, with which he lit his way down the staircase, the stone treads of which must have rejoiced his heart, had he ever attempted to descend wooden steps in silence.
It took him quite five minutes to raise the trap, so intent was he upon making no sound; but when it was open he wasted no more time, but passed swiftly down the spiral stairs and straight along the centre of the crypt. Half-way across he paused, consulted a pocket compass, and struck off towards the east. Twenty paces brought him to the place he was seeking, at a point which he and Tony had never touched in their perambulations round the walls. Here, in an open space, where one of the pillars would normally have been, stood a great oblong block of stone, raised upon three low steps. This was nothing less than the ancient crypt altar of the Abbey, and for a few moments Gaunt stood regarding it with satisfaction.
Then he mounted the steps and shone his lamp upon its upper surface. As he did so he noticed a curious thing. The five small crosses which must have been incised upon it when it was consecrated had been carefully removed, leaving depressions in the stone. Nodding to himself, as if at the confirmation of some theory, he set his torch carefully on the step beside him and, seizing the edge of the single block of granite which formed the altar-top, heaved violently upwards. Nothing happened; and after some minutes of futile struggling he desisted and sat down on the upper step, wiping the sweat from his face, for it was very close in that silent place.
After a while he got up and, taking his torch, began to go carefully round the edge of the slab. At a point on the back he stopped and inserted a probing finger. There was a sharp click, and he stood up with a faint sigh of satisfaction. Once more he essayed to lift the stone, and this time he was successful, for the entire altar-top swung upwards on a pivot, revealing a yawning cavity within.
A rush of foul air blew in Gaunt’s face as he peered over the side, flashing his lamp within, but, apparently undismayed, he swung a leg over and lowered himself into the depths.
Perhaps an hour passed before he reappeared, dripping with sweat and gasping for breath; but he was smiling as he gently lowered the counterbalanced slab into place.
Tony did not hear the doctor go back to his room, for he was still asleep; and if Sir Anthony heard, he never told, though he lay awake staring at the canopy of his bed with drug-clouded eyes.
When the grey dawn came creeping through the narrow, mullioned windows of Gaunt’s room the doctor was sleeping like a child, but on his lips there was still a smile, which, in the circumstances, was a curious thing.
II
A week later Hamilton received a long letter from Tony. It was post-marked Pentock, and ran thus:
Kestrel,
c/o P.O., Pentock,
Cornwall.
April 15th.
My dear John,
Thanks so much for finding Dr. Gaunt for me and sending him down here. He’s an awfully decent fellow, and we all like him immensely.
The Lorrimers can’t do enough for him. He knows his job too; the improvement in Dad’s condition is simply amazing. As you must have gathered, he was in a pretty bad way when I came down here. The local G.P. — one of the best, if a trifle antique — couldn’t make him out at all. He’d had an awful shock, that was evident, and it threatened to send him off his rocker, so the beggar could think of nothing better to do than to dope him with some infernal concoction which would have killed him in a week. But Gaunt’s changed all that.