Here Gaunt uttered a word which may not be written, and as the awful syllables throbbed upon the still air it seemed to Tony that an icy wind blew about his thinly clad body and the floor rocked beneath his feet. Twice he opened his mouth, twice he strove to force his lips to frame the words, while within his drugged brain a thin small voice screamed shrilly, “No! No! No!”
Then, lifted on the stream of volition from those sinister watching figures, his own will strengthened, caught hold, and in a firm voice he swore the oath.
As the awful words died echoless against the shrouded walls a frightful silence fell, and it seemed to Tony that he stood there motionless for an eternity, while all around him the dust of ages drifted down ceaselessly, like gentle snow. Then the sable hangings, the scarlet figure on the throne, the paunchy form beside it, and those others in the background all faded from his sight, leaving only a fathomless gulf in which he floated, bodiless. All around was the void of outer space, sown with blazing stars, and before his eyes the great globe of the earth spun slowly on its axis, presenting shimmering seas and shadowy continents to his strangely incurious gaze as it rotated.
All at once he knew that he was not alone in the void, for behind him he could feel a Presence hovering, like a dark cloud veiling the stars, and casting its shadow upon the very earth beneath, and a Voice whispered softly to his souclass="underline" “All this will I give unto thee…”
For an instant one tiny point of light flickered in a corner of his being, then, as his conscience died, that too was overwhelmed by the great flood of darkness pouring in, and without another effort he gave up the pitifully unequal struggle. Staggering down the steps, he turned and fell upon his face, worshiping the awful Presence that hovered upon the altar.
Gaunt sank back in his chair, his face a mask of devilish triumph, and Vaughan leapt forward, standing over Tony’s prostrate figure. Raising his hands aloft, the hood falling back from his face, he cried:
“O Satan, Lord, receive this Thy servant whom we here dedicate to Thee. Be with him in life, and in death, and through all eternity, and uphold him with Thine almighty power!”
At a sign from Gaunt two of the hooded brethren advanced, lifted Tony’s slight form, and laid him on the altar. Then began the monstrous blasphemy of the Black Mass.
But Tony was hardly conscious of it, for the reek of the incense curling about him in thick yellow clouds still further stupefied his senses, and finished the work which the ointment had begun. His mind, however, was quite clear and active, and he realized perfectly what was being done: how he was being finally consecrated to the service of the Prince of Darkness.
That all this was quite unnecessary he knew full well. With that one act of worship he had sealed his doom for ever, but he was not afraid, and had no regrets. He realized that he must have known, subconsciously, all through the long months of his preparation, where it was all leading to. Only the consummate skill of Nicholas Gaunt had prevented him from realizing it in time to draw back, and he doubted, even now, if he would have drawn back, had he known all. For the dark power surging through his veins filled him with exultation; he knew at last that this was the only certain way to all knowledge and all mastery. The wisdom of the Serpent coiled about his brain, and he saw the current of desire in which all things move, and knew that he could direct it as he willed.
He felt a tremendous scorn of all weak things, and all things pitifuclass="underline" Jesus of Nazareth, and John Hamilton — they passed through his mind together, pale shadows both; he rejected them utterly. This was the way of the strong, into whose hands the lordship over all things was given. Darkness reigned supreme, and he was of the legions of the darkness, and was glad.
Chapter XII
I
The sun was shining gloriously over the sea, and lighting up the moorland road from Portreath to Pentock, along which John Hamilton was striding, swinging his ash-plant. That morning he had come from Otterham by rail, and by the railway motor from Redruth to Portreath.
The city pallor was gone from his face, for in spite of the heavy rain which had fallen during the greater part of his ten-days’ tramp he had been in the open practically the whole time, and the intervals of sunshine had given him a fair tan. His clothes had suffered a good deal, being badly creased and crumpled from many wettings, and his flannel trousers were liberally splashed with mud. A rent in his jacket testified to an encounter with a furze bush near Camelford, and owing to an early start that morning he had omitted to shave. Altogether he looked a distinctly unconventional figure, but he felt in splendid health and spirits, and whistled cheerfully as he walked.
When he drew near to the narrow ravine in which the village lay he struck off the road along the path which led to the cliff top and down by the church, for he intended to call on the rector at once. He had conceived a great affection for the old man, and was looking forward to seeing him again with much pleasure.
Soon he reached the cliffs and had a view of the open sea, with Kestrel in the distance. What had happened there in his absence, he wondered, and how was Tony? These questions would soon be answered. Reaching the steep descent, he shortened his stride.
On reaching the rectory gate he had something of a shock, for, sitting on a deck-chair on the lawn in front of the house, was a girl, reading.
He pushed open the gate and approached, rather diffidently, the gravel crunching beneath his heavy shoes. The girl raised her eyes from her book, and he had a swift vision of a sweet oval face surrounded by a mass of short dark curls. Before he could speak she said:
“You wanted to see my uncle? I’m afraid he’s out just now. But come round to the back, and I’ll see if I can find something for you.”
She rose lightly, dropping the book on her chair, and he saw that she was very slim, and that her legs were bare. It was evident that she took him for a tramp seeking the rector’s charity. Small wonder, too, he thought, looking ruefully down at his bedraggled appearance. Wondering what to do, he followed her round to the back door.
Once in the kitchen, she said:
“Sit down, please, and I’ll make you some tea. I think Mrs. Drew must be upstairs.”
Obediently he sat down at the bare table, thinking furiously, striving to frame some sort of explanation which would not embarrass her.
The kettle was singing on the hob, and in a few minutes he had made the tea and poured out a cup, which she set before him, together with a piece of meat pie which she found in the cupboard. Her proximity, as she leaned over the table, made him feel hotter and grimier than ever, for she was dressed all in white, and looked as fresh and cool as a flower.
Thinking that perhaps after he had finished he could escape before the rector returned, Hamilton began to eat. Indeed the food was welcome, for he had walked several miles in the heat of the day since lunching at Portreath.
The girl perched herself on the edge of the table, swinging her legs and looking out of the window. Hamilton felt extremely uncomfortable.
When he had finished she asked if he had had enough, and, receiving a satisfactory answer, offered him a cigarette. Thinking longingly of the pipe reposing in his pocket, Hamilton dutifully accepted one, and, when the girl followed suit, found his matches and gave her a light. As he held the flame for her he saw her eyes fall on his hands, which, though very dirty at present, were well cared for, and she looked up at him curiously.
Now or never, he told himself, and was just opening his lips to speak when the door opened and the rector came in.