“A brilliant description, Mr. Hamilton. It stamps you as a journalist. I knew a man like this Vaughan once: a Roman priest he was. But in his case it was his outward appearance that gave the measure of the man after all, for he came to a sticky end, I remember. An unpleasant scandal — he was unfrocked.”
Hamilton looked sharply at the priest’s calm face.
“This couldn’t be the same, I suppose?” he asked anxiously.
“Not the least chance, Mr. Hamilton. That was — what — forty years ago, and he was a man of over sixty. How old is this Vaughan?”
Hamilton could barely suppress a sigh of relief.
“Not more than fifty.”
They sat smoking in silence for a while. Then Hamilton spoke again.
“I suppose there’s nothing we can do about it, Father. I hate leaving Tony to his own devices, but there it is.”
“What are your plans, my son?”
“I shall continue my holiday, walking up the coast. I’ve never been farther north than here.”
“This coast is very grand — more rugged altogether than in the south. You’ll get plenty of scenery. Where will you make for?”
“I want to get as far as Tintagel if I can. Arthur’s Castle, you know.”
The rector smiled.
“Still the romantic, eh? It was a sorry ruin when I saw it last, and I should imagine it’s worse now. Most of the castle has fallen down the cliff. If I were you I would take the coast road to Crantock — the church there is very fine. Cut out Newquay — it will be swarming now — and make for Padstow; they’ve dug up an ancient chapel at St. Enodoc that’s worth a visit. Cross the Camel at Wadebridge, and follow the moorland road to Tintagel. It’s worth pushing on to Boscastle if you’ve time — there’s a lovely valley, and a curious towerless church near by. Then a bit farther on is High Cliff, the highest point on the whole coast.”
“Hold hard, Father,” Hamilton laughed. “You’ll have me at Bristol at this rate.”
“Sorry, Mr. Hamilton. My enthusiasm ran away with me. I love this country — I only wish I could come with you.”
“So do I, Father. Well, I must be off.”
“Shall you come back this way?”
“Yes, I’ll leave my bag at the Three Fishermen, and take a haversack. I’ll come back by rail from Camelford or Otterham and pick it up.”
“Come and see me, won’t you?”
“Rather! Thanks so much for everything, Father. Good-bye!”
“Good-bye, my boy. God speed!”
They shook hands, and Hamilton made his way back to the inn. He had come prepared for this eventuality, and had packed an empty haversack, so that it was only a matter of transferring such necessities as he would require, and in less than an hour he had made his arrangements with the landlord and set off.
He had borrowed a sturdy ash-plant, his flask and sandwiches were in his pocket, and in spite of the heat, which was still great — although the sky had clouded over since the early morning — it was infinitely better than London, and he was glad to be free for a while. By evening a fine mist of rain was falling, but Hamilton still strode on, delighting in the coolness it brought. Dusk was falling when he reached Crantock and found a lodging for the night.
II
For two days after his friend’s departure Tony was vaguely distressed over his loss, for he could not regard their parting as other than a clean break between his old life and the new, but, having once set his hand to the plough, he was determined not to turn back, and threw himself into his studies with more vigour than ever before. The doctor was highly delighted with his pupil’s progress, and promised him initiation within three weeks. Every day they worked from breakfast until dinner, taking a short as time as possible over meals, and every day Tony felt his grasp of the tremendous subject he had undertaken strengthening. His will-power deepened amazingly, and before long he was able to induce a state of auto-hypnosis, and reach the astral plane unaided. But his mentor did not permit such excursions often, telling him that he must conserve his spiritual energy for the great act of initiation.
After dinner, and before going to bed, they usually relaxed, and passed the time in conversation, when Vaughan would join them. The latter spent most of his days down in the crypt, and once Tony asked if he might see what he was doing there.
After a preliminary visit, alone, Gaunt took him down the narrow spiral stair.
Two of the vapour-lamps from the hall had been taken down, and stood on the altar, casting a brilliant pool of light in the midst of the gloomy place. In the circle of radiance Vaughan was working, crouched upon the stone floor, measuring distances with a surveyor’s tape. As they approached Tony could see the outlines of an immense and elaborate diagram, traced in multi-coloured paints, on the stone floor of the crypt, around the altar. Vaughan stood up, and his grotesque shadow, now gigantic, added to the weirdness of the scene.
“Come, Sir Anthony,” he said, as Tony hovered uncertainly in the shadows, “you can walk on it without fear, now. It is not yet charged with force.”
Tony advanced, scanning the ground with deep interest. He was now well versed in the mysteries of diagram and symbolism, but this design was quite new to him. It appeared to consist of a series of concentric circles, radiating from the altar, with a number of pentagonal figures superimposed. Characters, some of which he recognized as Hebrew and Greek, were inscribed at various points.
“It is beautifully done, Mr. Vaughan,” he said, “but what is it for?”
Vaughan laughed, well pleased with the praise.
“For our great work, Sir Anthony, the banishment of the curse monstrosity, and the deliverance of this island and yourself from its bondage. The doctor will explain it all to you in good time.”
With that Tony had perforce to be content. As he followed the converging lines to the altar he observed that that also had been embellished with coloured symbols, and that the top was sealed down with broad white tapes, the ends of which were attached to the stone with great blobs of red wax.
“That is to prevent any interference from the monstrosity while I am at work,” Vaughan explained. “It is probably aware that we are planning its destruction, and it might well endeavour to prevent us.”
It says much for Gaunt’s tuition that Tony accepted this explanation without surprise, and presently went back to his books, leaving the doctor with Vaughan. When the echo of the young man’s footsteps upon the stairs had died away the latter said:
“You have done well, Doctor. He questions nothing. Our task should be easy.”
Gaunt smiled grimly.
“Don’t be too sure, my friend. It is the initiation I am afraid of. When he finds out the truth he may well become intractable. I am so concerned that I have decided to summon a meeting of the brotherhood, and take him up to London for the ceremony.”
“But I thought it was to be done here, Doctor. If you can’t initiate him, no one can.”
“True, Simon. But I think the effect of the mass-suggestion of the brethren is likely to prove most valuable in this case. It will lessen the chances of a relapse. We can go up by road, and thus avoid the distraction of a train journey.”
“And afterwards?”
“We shall return here, and continue the work.”
“He will be agreeable?”
“He will not know any more than is absolutely necessary, Simon. Once he has assisted at the Mass, and committed the ultimate sacrilege, I shall trap him into making an act of renunciation, and control of the monstrosity will pass to me.”