As Tony stood, bareheaded, by the door of the vault, listening to the voice of the old rector as he read the infinitely moving words of the Burial Service, he lifted his eyes and looked over the sea to where Kestrel lay, with the dark shape of the Abbey crouched upon its back.
“He’s safe from you now,” he thought, but he knew that upon his own shoulders the burden of that ancient tyranny now rested, and, bowing his head, he accepted the responsibility.
When it was all over, and the iron gates were shut upon all that was mortal of his father, the rector came to him and laid a hand upon the young man’s arm.
“I knew your father, my boy,” he said, “and I hope to know you better. Never hesitate to come to me if you think I can be of any help. God be with you!”
After the funeral Tony had to go up to London to see his solicitor, and to attend to many matters connected with the estate. He left Gaunt at Kestrel, for he had asked the doctor to stay on for a while, though he had not yet opened his heart to him on the matter of the curse.
Curiously enough, it never occurred to him to visit Hamilton while he was in London. Indeed, he found the whole business exceedingly wearisome, and as soon as he possibly could he went back to Cornwall. The dominant thought in his mind was that he must return to Kestrel and start upon the great task which he had set himself, with Gaunt’s help. Nothing must interfere with that, and within half an hour of his return he was in conference with the doctor, in the ill-fated library where they had found Sir Anthony little more than a week before.
“Doctor,” he began, “you and I have been great friends, and we must be frank with each other. In the past you have always scouted any suggestion that the curse of the Lovells had any basis upon fact. In view of my father’s last words, and the phenomena which accompanied his death, do you still hold to that opinion?”
Gaunt did not reply at once, but lit a cigarette and inhaled thoughtfully. When he spoke, his musical voice was unusually grave.
“Tony, I have never held that opinion in my own mind. If I have been guilty of deception you must forgive me. It was only because I did not think you were strong enough to bear the truth; in fact, you were definitely not when I first came here. Now I think the time has come when you must know.
“Your father was perfectly right. There is something, something which the world calls supernatural, hidden beneath us. Now, I know that there is no supernatural, but I also know that there are phenomena which apparently contradict the usually accepted laws of nature, but which, nevertheless, are governed by quite definite laws of their own. Let us call them supernormal. Your family curse falls into this category.
“When the last abbot of Kestrel laid the curse upon your ancestor he had no idea what he was doing. His words, uttered in the heat of the moment, prompted by a very real wrong which had been done to him, released a certain force which was pent up here. Whether or no, as the legends say, a necromancer of great power did dwell here in the remote past, I do not profess to know; but certainly there was an evil entity lying dormant at this point in the space-time continuum. Or, if you prefer, at this spot the veil of tangible matter was worn thin, and his words and intention served to rend it for a moment, and some creature of the outer darkness sprang through the gap.
“Certainly all the accumulated ‘grace’ — to use a theological term — which had resulted from the many holy lives spent here in accordance with the Church’s law, the countless prayers which had continually ascended, and the hundreds of Masses which had been said within the Abbey walls, vanished in a flash, and the island became intensely vulnerable to the dark powers. We in Europe are so accustomed to living in an atmosphere saturated with grace that we do not realize the continual assaults of the powers of darkness, which are a commonplace in remote, pagan lands.
“At any rate, explain it how you will, the fact remains: some supernormal monstrosity slipped through into the world, fortunately becoming attached to this place, and also, unhappily for you, to the family which dwelt here. I say fortunately because, had it been loosed upon the world at large, it would have infallibly wreaked incalculable harm.
“The gross and immoral conduct of the first Sir Anthony probably increased its power, and the black arts practiced by his successor undoubtedly had a much greater effect.”
Tony had been staring at the doctor with steadily growing amazement, and now, at last, unable to contain himself any longer, he broke in with:
“Doctor, do you seriously believe all this? It’s incredible! I didn’t think anyone believed in such things any more. And a man of your intelligence — “
“That’s just it,” came the quick reply: “the more a man learns, the more he realizes that there is a vast realm of knowledge almost untouched by the human mind — the average human mind, I should say. Tony, we must face facts now or we are lost. There are such things! This material world of ours, so fair and seemingly substantial, is but a painted veil which hangs between our eyes and the great unknown. And that unknown is often wonderfully beautiful, as the mystics know, and sometimes incredibly horrible, as such manifestations as this one prove.”
Strangely shaken, Tony said:
“The foundations of my world are crumbling. What am I to believe? Is it all a dream?”
“It is but a dream, Tony. And beyond the dream are great realities.”
“Show them to me, Doctor. Help me!”
“I can if you will put yourself unreservedly into my hands.”
“I can’t do anything else. I must trust you, Doctor. What shall I do? When my father died I swore an oath that I would not rest until this horror was rooted out.”
“It will be a long and painful task, Tony. Great ends are only attained through mighty labour. First of all, with your permission, I will send to London for an associate of mine, a Mr. Simon Vaughan, who knows more about these things even than I do. He is a great student of supersensual phenomena, and he will know exactly what course to take with this one.”
“Send for him quickly, then!”
“He will be here at dawn.”
“How?”
“By road.”
“So soon? How will you let him know?”
“I have means of communication at my disposal which are not available to most men. Come, I will show you.”
Together they went up to Gaunt’s room, and the doctor gave Tony a chair by the window. Then he lit the lamp which stood on a small table beside his bed. Unlocking a suitcase, he took out an object wrapped in black velvet. This proved to be a small crystal sphere, mounted on a brass disk, round the edge of which curious characters were engraved.
He placed the crystal on the table beside the lamp and oriented it carefully with the aid of his pocket compass. Then he sat down by the table, rested his head on his hands, an elbow either side of the crystal, and gazed fixedly into the opalescent depths of the shining sphere.
To Tony, watching, it seemed that the sphere began to glow with an internal radiance, which lit the intent face above it with a pale light. The doctor began to speak in a low, clear voice:
“Simon Vaughan! Simon Vaughan! Are you listening? Come at once to Kestrel. Your friend has need of you. Nicholas Gaunt has need of you. Come quickly!”
There was silence for a space, while the glow faded from the crystal. When it was dull and opaque once more Gaunt looked up:
“He is coming, Tony. All will be well.”
Tony put a hand to his bewildered head, and the doctor, with a gentle smile, rose and touched his shoulder, saying:
“All this is very strange and new to you, Tony. To me it is just commonplace. Come down again and I will try and explain it a little.”