When the trap was shut and the lamp replaced Lorrimer asked Hamilton what he made of it. The latter shrugged, his face a picture of bewilderment.
“I don’t know what to make of it,” said he. “I have never believed that such things were possible. Now I see that they are. If that is Dr. Gaunt’s doing, or his colleague’s, and I suppose it must be, then it only goes to prove that they do possess an amazing power. I suppose they didn’t want anyone to go near the altar, for that’s what I presume it was, and accordingly took steps to prevent it. At all events, we don’t seem to be any nearer a solution of the mystery than we were before. I’m completely at a loss.”
Lorrimer nodded; he was far less disturbed than Hamilton.
“Well, sir,” he said, “I never thought I should live to see a miracle, but now I have. I wish I could believe that it was one such as Moses did, but I’m afraid that it is more like those of Pharaoh’s wizards. We’re swimming in deep waters, sir.”
They reached the kitchen door and went in. Mrs. Lorrimer was standing by the fire, her whole body tense. As soon as she saw them she relaxed, and going to her husband, quietly kissed him.
“Thank God you’re both safe!” said she. Her husband looked down at her gravely.
“Amen to that, my dear,” he said. “We’ve been in a strange place, and seen queer things, Mr. Hamilton and I. But I’ll tell you about it later. Now, sir, I don’t want to rush you, or to seem inhospitable, but I’m expecting them back any time, and I think you’d better be going.”
“Yes, it wouldn’t do for them to find me here.” Hamilton took up his coat, and Lorrimer helped him into it.
“I shall be staying at the Three Fishermen for a while,” he continued, “and if you’re willing to stay on here you can keep me informed through Tom Tregellis. Let me know at once if anything definite happens.”
“That I will, thank you, sir. Of course we’ll stay; we’ll do our duty by Sir Anthony while we’re able to.”
“Very well, then. Good-bye, and God keep you both.” Hamilton shook hands with them, and Lorrimer escorted him out through a back door and round to the outer gate. He went down to the harbour alone, to find his boatman turning the boat round preparatory to departing. Seeing Hamilton, the man rowed back to the landing-stage.
“I was just off, sir,” he explained; “you’ve been gone well over the hour.”
“Sorry! I suppose I have. I’m glad you waited, though,” Hamilton said, climbing aboard.
As they were rowing out of the little harbour the man looked curiously at his passenger.
“Queer place, that, sir?” he remarked, interrogatively.
Hamilton nodded.
“Very queer.” He did not feel disposed to be drawn into a conversation which he knew would be broadcast over the village, and contented himself with non-committal replies to the leading questions which were fired at him from time to time.
He was forced into revealing action, however, when, only half a mile from Pentock, he saw the white shape of the Abbey launch coming towards them. Silently cursing the unfortunate coincidence, he flung himself into the bottom of the boat and pulled a tarpaulin over his body. His pilot stared at him in astonishment as he asked in a low voice:
“That launch; how many are there aboard?”
The other peered under his hand.
“There be three, sir, besides Tom Tregellis; Sir Anthony, it looks like, and two others. They’ll be his two friends, like as not. Don’t you want them to see you, sir?”
“No,” said Hamilton shortly, and pulled the tarpaulin over his face. It was hot, and smelt abominably, but he stayed under it until the launch had passed only a cable’s-length away, and their own boat had entered the harbour and was hidden by the wall.
After lunching at the inn Hamilton made his way to the rectory. Valerie met him at the door, greeting him gaily with:
“Good afternoon, Mr. Hamilton. Are you hungry this time?”
He tried desperately to echo her carefree tone, but was conscious that he failed dismally as he answered:
“No, thanks, Miss Bennett. I’ve just had lunch. Is the rector in?”
“I think so. Do come in! Will you stay for tea?”
“Thanks. I’d love to.” Hamilton was peering anxiously over her shoulder towards the study. Ever since his strange experience of the morning his one thought had been to tell the old priest of this amazing confirmation of their worst fears. He scarcely noticed the girl, and she, sensing his lack of interest, gave up the attempt to entertain him and took him straight to the rector.
“Uncle, here’s Mr. Hamilton,” she said; “he’s got something on his mind and won’t rest until he’s seen you. From his face I think he must have murdered someone.”
Her uncle put down his book. For perhaps one second a tiny frown appeared between his brows and a reproof trembled on his lips. Then he remembered that she knew nothing of the grim secret which lay between Hamilton and himself, and he smiled gravely.
“Thank you, my dear,” he said. “Come in and sit down, my boy. Have some tobacco — I’ve got a new tin today.”
Hamilton sat down and began to fill his pipe in silence. The girl hovered uncertainly at the door, looking curiously from one to the other.
“I’ll leave you to it, then,” said she. “Don’t be too hard on him, Uncle.”
When the door had closed behind her the rector spoke:
“Not a word until your pipe’s going, John. And take your time; I can see it was pretty bad.”
Collecting his thoughts, the young man told him the whole story of his visit to Kestrel, and what he had found in the crypt. Not until it was finished did the other speak, but smoked his pipe quietly, betraying no sign of astonishment at the bizarre tale. When he spoke he said:
“If your visit has accomplished nothing else, my boy, it has convinced you that these people do possess a real and terrifying power. That is very important, for we must not underestimate our opponents. I must confess that I have never actually experienced anything so objective as this barrier you speak of, but I have never doubted for one moment that such things are possible. I rather think you did at one time.”
“Yes, Father,” Hamilton agreed. “But never again. That has settled all my doubts, once and for all. But now the question is, what is it all about, and what are we to do?”
“We cannot do anything yet except wait for further developments. You have established communication with the Lorrimers, at all events.”
“Yes, I suppose that is something,” assented Hamilton. “The simple faith of those two old people is amazing, Father. I couldn’t have stood half what they’ve gone through.”
“You may have to stand more before this episode is over, John. I wish I knew what they have in mind. All this seems a tremendous lot of trouble to go to to gain one convert to their beastly faith. We must not lose sight of the other possible purpose of that magic circle.”
“Why, Father, what do you mean?” Hamilton was startled. “It could only be intended to keep intruders out, surely.”
“It might also serve to keep something in,” the priest answered quietly.
Hamilton could feel the colour draining from his cheeks as he said:
“The bellowing sound?”
The other nodded.
“That may have been the wind, of course. I place more reliance on your own sensations when descending into the crypt. You might have imagined the feeling of evil, being prepared for it, but the assault of despair is very significant. It seems to point to the presence of some intelligent entity, which was endeavouring to persuade you of the hopelessness of attempting to interfere.”
“What a horrible idea, Father!”
“We may encounter things more horrible before we’ve done, my boy. I take it you are determined to see this through?”