“Come, John, we’ll go to him.”
Hand in hand they went out into the dripping garden and through the churchyard.
It was very dark in the little church, and at first they could not see the rector at all. Then they made out a slight figure kneeling among the shadows before the side altar upon which stood the Tabernacle. By a common impulse they quietly went up to him and knelt down, one on either side.
So rapt in prayer was he that he was unaware of their presence for some minutes. At last he raised his grey head and looked first to the right and then to the left.
Hamilton held his breath. Would this second shock be too much for him? But the serene face of the priest never altered, save that his mouth lost its rigid lines and softened into a gentle smile. Stretching out his arms, he put one round each of them and drew them close.
“God has heard the prayers of an old man,” he whispered softly. “To Him be the glory! They told me there was no hope, but they were wrong.”
Back in the house once more, and sitting before a cheerful fire in the little study, Hamilton told their story, blaming himself bitterly for the original expedition which had ended so disastrously.
When he had finished, the rector said:
“I expect Valerie was as much to blame as you, John. I know her ways, bless her! But don’t talk of blame now. You have brought her safely back to me, and that’s all that matters. You were in God’s hands. When you didn’t come back to dinner I began to worry, thinking you were lost on the moors in the storm; but when they told me you had gone out in a dinghy we gave you up for lost. I must admit that it was one of the very few occasions upon which I have questioned the ways of the Almighty, but I got over that. I said a requiem for you this morning. I don’t suppose it did you any harm.”
He chuckled softly, but there were tears in his eyes as he patted Valerie’s hand.
“And now, my dear,” he said to her, “there is something sadly amiss with John’s story. I am very puzzled. Perhaps you can help me. He speaks of your dreadful adventure of last night as if he hardly believed it had happened at all. He never mentions the horror you must both have felt when you found yourself on that accursed island, with Anthony Lovell and his beastly friends. Can you explain this?”
Hamilton sat there frowning. The priest’s words touched some lost chord in his mind, but he could not grasp it. It was as if a dense fog lay over part of his brain. He listened eagerly to Valerie’s words.
“Yes, Uncle, I think I can help — a little,” said she. “I was like that too until this morning. It’s awfully hard to explain, but when I first woke up on Kestrel, after we were wrecked, I had no recollection whatever of anything you or John had told me about those two monsters who have got poor Tony in their power, or of the true nature of the secret order to which they all belong. I regarded Dr. Gaunt as an ordinary, kindly professional man, and his friend, Simon Vaughan, as a decent psychic investigator. I think John is still under the same delusion.”
“Monstrous!” murmured the rector. “They undoubtedly worked upon your minds while you lay helpless and exhausted. John, do you mean to tell me you remember nothing of what we talked of so many times?”
Hamilton knitted his brows.
“I’ve been trying to remember,” he said hesitantly, “and now I do seem to recollect something very vague about it. But it all seems incredibly remote and fantastic. I can’t bring myself to believe in it at all now. Certainly it never crossed my mind while I was at the Abbey.”
“Amazing! Tell me, Valerie, when did you remember?”
“A few minutes after I dropped my lamp in the tunnel last night. At first I wasn’t a bit frightened — only worried lest I should be lost down there. Then, all at once, it came back to me. I realized where I was, and in whose power we were. It was as if a veil had suddenly dropped from my eyes. Then — it came!” She shuddered violently and stopped.
The rector caught her hand.
“Don’t think about that,” he commanded. “What happened afterwards — when you were safe?”
Mastering her emotion with a struggle, she went on:
“When I came round Tony was bending over me. As soon as I saw his poor face, so dreadfully distressed, I knew he wasn’t really one of them at heart. He told me everything this morning before we left. He believes that Dr. Gaunt deliberately made me go down into the caves to get rid of me. When he thought I was at the mercy of that horrible thing he must have released his control over my mind, and I remembered. That’s Tony’s explanation, anyhow.”
“But why should Gaunt do such a thing,” asked Hamilton — “even supposing that it’s all true?”
The girl blushed and lowered her eyes.
“Tony said probably because Gaunt thought he was getting too interested in me. After that his one thought was to get me away as soon as possible. He wouldn’t let me see them again. I begged him to give up the whole thing, and come with us, but he said he was bound by the most frightful oaths, and couldn’t possibly. I feel dreadfully sorry for him.”
“I wish he had come with you,” said the rector. “It is evident that he is not wholly with them, and I think I could make him change his mind, even now. His act in saving you must have weakened their hold over him a good deal. I only hope it won’t make it any harder for him.”
Hamilton laughed suddenly, making them both stare at him.
“I think you’re both taking it far too seriously,” he said. “It’s all nonsense, anyway. Such things don’t happen nowadays, if they ever did, which I very much doubt. If poor old Tony has gone potty, cooped up there with those two charlatans, there is no reason why we should.”
“John,” said the rector gravely, “I wish you would make an effort to overcome this state of mind you are in. It’s going to be a great source of weakness to us if you don’t.”
“I don’t see why I should come back to your point of view at all,” Hamilton returned. “It only seems to make you miserable. Life’s too short for tears.”
“Jesus wept,” the rector reminded him.
Hamilton laughed again, this time so rudely that Valerie jumped up with a little cry.
“John! Don’t be a beast!” — and, bursting into tears, she fled from the room.
“Excuse me a moment,” said the rector, and followed her.
He found her in her bedroom, her face buried in the pillow, sobbing bitterly. He touched her quivering shoulder, and when she had quieted, he said:
“Valerie, my dear, this won’t do. I know you have been grievously tried today, but you mustn’t give way now. John can’t help himself; I rather fancy they’re working on him now. That damnable link between his mind and Gaunt’s must be broken, and you’ve got to help me. Do you understand?”
She lifted her tear-stained face and nodded.
“I’ll try, Uncle. But it hurts to see him like that.”
“Yes, my dear, I know; but be brave. Shall we go down now? I’m going to try and get him into church.”
Downstairs Hamilton was sitting as they had left him. He felt vaguely sorry for having upset Valerie, but uppermost in his mind was a profound feeling of contempt for the rector’s foolish beliefs. He looked up at the crucifix on the wall and it was all he could do to keep himself from laughing aloud. That absurd little image! What good did they imagine it did? Idolatry! The word rose to the surface of his mind like a bubble of gas in a stagnant pond. They worshiped that painted doll, these foolish, wicked people. He became filled with righteous indignation, and, rising, unhooked the thing. As soon as it was in his hands a fierce hatred boiled in his veins, and he flung it into the fire with an exclamation of disgust.
At that moment the door opened and the rector came in. Taking in the situation at a glance, he stood still, blocking the door, so that Valerie, behind him, should not see the blazing crucifix.