“Absolutely,” Hamilton answered firmly. “I shall stay here until there is no more hope for Tony.”
“Say, rather, until Tony is saved.”
“There is a hope, then?” Hamilton’s voice was eager.
“There is always hope. If we could once get him out of the influence of those two wretches we might work wonders. I have been polishing up my knowledge of these matters today.” The rector picked up the book he had been reading and gave it to Hamilton, who glanced at the title, The Brethren of the Left-Hand Path.
“It is not very edifying reading for a priest,” he went on, “but it is necessary that we should know what to expect. They are diabolically clever, these people, and I can well understand your friend getting caught up by their specious reasoning, especially if he has had no instruction in Catholic tradition and the teaching of the Church.”
“I expect he was brought up as a Christian, Father.”
“No doubt, but in that milk-and-water Christianity which is so common these days. Our faith is a glorious adventure, a flaming reality, or it is nothing. I doubt if it was ever real to him, and consequently he did not realize that this Satanism is merely a perversion of the Catholic religion. They have their Masses, and their dark sacraments, you know. Their ritual is elaborate and full of meaning, as ours is: quite attractive to the superficial observer; while their claim to greater knowledge and objective power is undeniable. They can, and do, effect far greater material results than we do, but at what a cost!” He fell silent, and Hamilton asked:
“Why should they fear the cost, if it is simply damnation, and the final union with their Master?”
“So their false reasoning runs. But they are wrong; they may achieve that union for a while — even after death, but I cannot believe they reach eternity that way. We are taught that at the Last Day Satan himself shall perish, and with him all these unhappy souls who have thrown in their lot with him. Of course they deny this, claiming that Darkness has always existed, as a co-equal of Light, and that Darkness will conquer in the end. But I will not believe that: it is inconceivable in the light of our faith. God is omnipotent, and the Devil merely a rebellious angel, fallen from grace.”
“Poor old Tony,” Hamilton mused, “to get taken in by all this clap-trap. I hope to God we can do something about it.”
“Amen,” answered the priest. “If we could only get him away somehow! I do not think they are really very much concerned with him; we shouldn’t meet much opposition from them, only from the boy himself, poor fool! I can’t believe that he is such a tremendous acquisition to them.”
“He’s pretty well off, you know,” Hamilton reminded him; “they may be after his money.”
The other shook his head.
“I don’t think so,” said he. “They are not short of means, and I shouldn’t imagine wealth by itself would hold much attraction for them. It may be Kestrel, though, that they are after. Such an unholy spot, so admirably situated, would make a very desirable stronghold for the headquarters of their Order. I wonder…” His voice died away, and for a while they sat silent, smoking their pipes. At last the rector spoke again.
“Well, John,” he said, “I think we have chewed over this business long enough for today. Let’s go and have some tea. And listen, you mustn’t get obsessed with these things. Don’t let them get hold of you; keep your mind clear; I’ll do the worrying. We can do no more at present, so try and forget all about it. Dr. Pellew is coming up this evening for a game of chess with me, and I suggest that you take Valerie for a walk, and try and put Kestrel out of your head for a while.”
“There’s nothing I should like better, Father.”
“Splendid! Now we’ll say no more about Tony Lovell and his troubles today. Agreed?”
“Agreed, Father.”
After tea Hamilton and Valerie set off along the cliff path in the direction of Portreath. The wind had dropped, and the sky cleared since morning; the sun was shining, and the air was very fresh and cool after the rain.
Rather to his surprise, Hamilton found his troubles slipping off his shoulders as he strove to enter into the gay spirit of her conversation, and before long he was laughing as merrily as she. He found her a delightful companion, and before they had been out an hour they were firm friends.
It was not until they had turned on to the inland road, and were walking homewards between the high banks, that she mentioned Kestrel.
“What’s going on there, Mr. Hamilton? Do tell me; Uncle’s so mysterious. I know you went over there this morning, and you looked so worried this afternoon.”
He looked down at her clear grey eyes, turned so confidently upon his face, and mentally vowed that she should never know anything of the horror that dwelt on Kestrel, but he knew that he could never lie to her, so, man-like, he temporized:
“Well, Tony — that’s Sir Anthony, of course — he’s an old pal of mine, and he’s got himself into a bit of a jam. His father had a sort of nervous breakdown before he died, and Tony asked me to send down a psycho-therapist from London. I was put on to this Dr. Gaunt. He came down and has been here ever since. It seems that he’s a bit of a spiritualist, and is rather keen on solving the mystery of the Lovell family curse, and Tony’s got mixed up with the whole cranky business, and I’m a bit worried about him. That’s all.”
She laughed.
“That doesn’t sound very serious. People do get caught up in these things, I know. A girl friend of mine in Bristol did once — séances, and all that sort of thing. Very creepy! But she soon got tired of it. I expect your friend will too.”
“I sincerely hope so,” said Hamilton, and meant it.
They said no more about the matter then, but went on chattering happily about other things. About a mile from the rectory, however, Valerie gave a little cry of pain and nearly fell. Hamilton caught her in a moment, and she stood on one leg, ruefully looking down at her left shoe. She had caught it between two stones in the rutty road, and the heel was twisted off. He knelt down in the dust and tried to put it back again, but it was hopeless, and so they went slowly on, she clinging to his arm.
He found it very pleasant to help her thus, and privately blessed the unwitting stones which had caused the little accident. Her slight weight on his arm made him feel large and heroic. Mentally he called himself an ass, but the fact was undeniable.
As they approached the rectory gate she suddenly became very quiet, and seemed to press closer to him than was absolutely necessary. Wondering what happy conclusion he could deduce from this, he stopped, and held the gate open for her. Without saying a word she released his arm and dived her hand into his jacket pocket. Dumbly he submitted, as the truth flashed blindingly across his mind, and watched her draw out the heavy pistol, whose bulky shape she had felt against her side.
For a long moment they stood there, a strange little tableau; he tense and expectant, she facing him, looking down at the grim object in her small hands. Then she shivered, and looked up at him, her face white; and he took the gun from her.
“Are your articles so violent that you must needs go armed, Mr. Hamilton?” she asked.
He did not reply, but still held the gate open for her. She passed through, and he followed, but as they entered the house she spoke again:
“Spiritualism, you said, Mr. Hamilton?”
He could find no words to answer her.
Chapter XIII
I
Next morning Hamilton received a note from Lorrimer. He was sitting on a bench outside the inn enjoying the warm sunshine when he saw the man Tregellis climbing the steep street towards him. He got up and went to meet him, and the other took the letter from his pocket, saying: