“Hoc est enim corpus meum…” the most awful words that the lips of man can utter. Tony heard them, scarcely realizing the tremendous miracle which was taking place; for, whatever his crimes, Vaughan’s priestly power was indestructible.
“Hic est enim calix sanguinis mei — .”
The Sacred Body and the Precious Blood were on the altar. Vaughan did not genuflect, but made an obscene gesture, then turned and beckoned Tony. The young man approached, took the Chalice from the priest, and deliberately poured its Contents upon the altar steps. The Blood splashed as it fell, spattering the white skirt of his alb with the red drops of guilt. He flung the empty vessel from him, and as it rang upon the stone floor the echoes of its fall were caught and flung backwards and forwards under the vaulted roof until it seemed as if a legion of fiends was gathered in the shadows, laughing, laughing…
The brief clamour died away and a strange hush followed, as if all creation were watching the sacrilege with bated breath. For a moment that seemed as long as eternity the three stood motionless, their gorgeous vestments shimmering in the dim light.
Gaunt was the first to move, and he too mounted the altar steps, drawing from his girdle a small dagger of peculiar design, which he handed to Tony. As his fingers closed round the cold metal hilt a sudden pang shot up the young man’s arm and he all but dropped the thing. Recovering himself, he faced the altar once more and raised the dagger aloft. The candlelight glittered evilly along the triangular blade. The watching shadows crowded closer upon the circle of light about the altar. The hush deepened until the silence seemed to press in upon them like a palpable thing. Tony’s eyes were fixed upon the Host, which lay before him startlingly white against the dark cloth. Yet again a thrill of anguish ran through his veins like fire, but, clenching his teeth, he brought the dagger sharply down, transfixing the gleaming disk which was the Heart of God. His own heart turned to ice as he saw the crimson stain spreading from the wound, but, swept away on the wings of ritual, he lifted the holy Thing and cast It to the ground, grinding It with his heel into the dust.
Instantly the silence was broken by an appalling tumult of sound, such as Tony had heard once before, on the night his father died. Now it was infinitely louder and more near — beneath his very feet. At the same moment the solid rock began to heave like the restless sea which surrounded it.
All three were flung to the ground, and lay where they fell, stunned by the din. The great stone top of the altar was forced violently upwards, scattering the candles in all directions. And a mighty wind came roaring up out of the depths, extinguishing the lamps and whirling round the crypt like a hurricane.
Gaunt alone kept command of his senses during those awful moments. As soon as he was able he began to crawl across the reeling floor, the wind plucking at his robes, one hand outstretched, searching for Tony in the darkness. At last he found him, and putting his lips close to the young man’s ear he shouted at the top of this voice:
“Quickly! Make an act of renunciation of your power over this thing. You can no longer control it. I can. Quickly, our lives depend upon it.”
Painfully Tony gathered his scattered wits together, and, realizing the urgency of the doctor’s appeal, strove to concentrate all his energies upon the matter. Locking his hands in Gaunt’s, he focused his will upon the other, and as their minds vibrated in unison he uttered the words with his whole being:
“Whatsoever power I have over this monstrosity I renounce, and yield it utterly to thee.”
The thick darkness hid the dreadful grin of triumph on the doctor’s face as he staggered to his feet, crying:
“Be still, thou creature of the Outer Darkness, be still! Thy master commands!”
Immediately the bellowing ceased and the wind died away.
The quivering of the rock continued for a while, but soon even that was stilled.
II
Tony came down to breakfast in a thoughtful mood. He had had no further conversation with the doctor since the celebration of the Black Mass, for, when they had relit the lamps and secured the altar-stone once more, all three had retired to bed at once, utterly exhausted by the terrible experience they had undergone. Tony had fallen into a heavy, dreamless sleep the moment his head touched the pillow, and when he woke the sun was high over the sea.
His rage of yesterday against Valerie and Hamilton for the supposed wrong they had done him was spent. He scarcely thought of them, but racked his brains continually to discover what Gaunt’s purpose had been in persuading him to assist at the fantastic ceremony in the crypt. He told himself that the doctor must have known what would happen; how the curse, its strength multiplied a thousandfold, would become uncontrollable by him. It would seem that the difficulties of banishing it from the island were now almost insuperable, though the bonds which had bound the horror to himself were, apparently, broken. Badly wanting Gaunt’s opinion on the matter, he hurried down the great staircase and along the corridor to the dining-hall.
To his surprise, the table was not laid, and the ashes of yesterday’s fire still littered the hearth. He glanced at his watch, saw that it was after ten, and, frowning slightly, made his way to the kitchen.
There was no sign of the Lorrimers, and no fire burnt in the great kitchen range. On the table, however, was an envelope addressed to himself. He tore it open and quickly read the brief note within:
Sir Anthony,
We are more sorry than we can say to leave you like this, but my wife and I are agreed that we can stay no longer in this place. Not after last night, sir. We shall be only too pleased to serve you in London, or anywhere else, sir, but not here any more.
Your obt. servant,
James Lorrimer
P.S. Tom will bring the boat back, sir.
Biting his lips, Tony crushed the letter into a ball, threw it into the grate, and returned to the great hall, where he flung himself into a chair and lit a cigarette.
He had not been there long before he heard voices in the gallery above, and, looking up, saw Dr. Gaunt and his portly colleague descending the staircase.
He was immediately struck by the contrast in their demeanours. Vaughan’s flabby face seemed to have fallen in; there were shadows under his little eyes and his lips were grey. He dragged his feet on the stairs. Gaunt, on the other hand, looked jubilant, in spite of the sticking-plaster on his cheek. His eyes shone like twin stars and his lips twitched with excitement. He fairly tripped down the stairs, leaving his companion far behind, and, as he approached, Tony could feel the atmosphere of power which radiated from his body.
“Good morrow, Tony!” he cried, with a cheerful smile. “Did you sleep well?”
“Very well, thank you, Doctor,” answered Tony. “But I’ve got some bad news for you, I’m afraid.”
Gaunt raised an eyebrow, and Tony went on:
“The Lorrimers have cleared off and left us in the lurch. They left a note for me. It seems that they were frightened out of their wits last night.”
“I don’t blame them,” said the doctor with a laugh. “Don’t worry, my boy, we shall be able to fend for ourselves for a while. It won’t be long now, eh, Vaughan?”