“Is there a rope in the launch?” he asked.
Tony followed the direction of his gaze, and his interest quickened.
“The mooring-ropes would be too short,” said he, “but there is the anchor chain.”
“Too heavy,” Hamilton decided. “We could never throw it up. Now, a light grappling-hook — if we had such a thing.”
“But we have!” cried Tony. “In the boat-house. I’ve wondered what it was for many a time. I’ll get it; there may be a rope as well.” He set off down the steps at a run.
The others said no word while he was gone, but in each heart hope was running high. At last he came back, panting, with a rusty iron grapnel in one hand and a coil of rope in the other.
“Fine!” Hamilton greeted him, and quickly they made the hook fast to the rope. Hamilton whirled it round his head and let go. The iron clattered against the wall, some feet from the top, and fell back. Again he tried, and yet again, and at the third throw caught the parapet.
Kicking off his shoes and digging his toes into the crevices of the wall, he began to climb hand over hand up the rope. Breathlessly they watched him, Valerie clinging nervously to Tony’s sleeve, her face white.
Hamilton had reached the top and was negotiating the overhanging battlement when the rope, rotten with age and frayed against the edge of the stone, broke, leaving him hanging by his hands. Tony swore under his breath, and the girl hid her face in his coat. But Hamilton did not fall. In perfect physical condition, he was able to draw himself up by sheer strength of arm and in a few seconds stood safely on the broad parapet. He looked down at their white faces and grinned cheerfully.
“Acrobatic performance number one!” he remarked. “Now, Tony, have a look at that rope.”
Obediently Tony went to the foot of the wall and picked up the fallen coil. He ran it through his hands and shook his head. It had stretched badly and several strands were broken. It would be madness to trust to it again.
“All right,” said Hamilton, when this intelligence was conveyed to him. “I’ll go down and see what I can find. If I see another rope I’ll come back and haul you up; if not — well, I’ll carry on and see what I can do alone.”
Feverishly they tried to persuade him not to venture into the Abbey unaccompanied, but for answer he flourished his pistol in the air and disappeared behind the parapet.
“He’ll not come back,” said Tony; “the dear fool means to go through with it by himself.”
They looked helplessly at one another.
“We must do something, Tony,” exclaimed Valerie.
The young man cast out his hands in a gesture of despair.
“What can we do?” he demanded.
The rector spoke.
“I don’t think we should worry overmuch about his safety. He may be the chosen one, you know. But at the same time I do not think we should stay here and make no effort to help. You are quite certain, Tony, that there is absolutely no other way in? No secret entrance or anything of that sort?”
Tony stared. Like a flash the memory of his visit to the caves with his two former associates came back to him.
“Yes!” he cried. “Why didn’t I think of it before? There is another way. Down on the other side of the island — a cave leading up into the crypt.”
“The crypt,” echoed Valerie; “he will be there. Come quickly.”
There was need for haste, for as they piled into the launch the hands of Tony’s watch stood at five minutes past eleven.
The voyage round the island was a hair-raising experience, and time after time they avoided the razor-edged rocks by inches. They dared not venture far from the cliffs into the denser fog lest they lose the island altogether.
Eventually they reached the sheer cliff on the western side, and by the merest stroke of luck found the entrance to the cave almost at once. Tony made the boat fast to a projecting knob of rock and drew himself up the four or five feet into the yawning mouth of the cavern. He then lay down and, stretching out his arms, helped first Valerie and then the rector. The calmness of the sea made the task less hazardous, and presently all three were walking over the sandy floor into the innermost recesses of the cave. Tony had taken a torch from the locker of the boat, and after a little searching found the crevice which led into the low tunnel beyond.
Bending double, they crawled along. The air was stifling, and the very rock felt warm to the touch. Soon they found the way barred by the iron-bound door. This was fastened on the inside, so Tony picked up a piece of fallen rock and battered a hole in the ancient, decaying wood, through which he was able to reach the bar.
As they passed through the torrid heat was exchanged for cold so intense that their sweat-damp clothes clung clammily to their shivering bodies. There was a vile smell in the air, and wreaths of yellowish vapour hung in the beam of the torch. The sense of some monstrous spiritual evil close at hand was so great that the rector crossed himself involuntarily, and Valerie clung, half fainting, to her lover. The rest of the journey through the passages was a nightmare to her, at least, for her mind was full of the memory of her dreadful experience in this same spot.
The rector and Tony did not spare her, but hurried forward, one on either side, almost dragging her along. They hardly noticed her distress, so oppressed were they by the double anxiety for their comrade Hamilton and for the whole world, which every second brought nearer to inconceivable disaster.
At the triple fork Tony, who by some odd trick of the memory had overlooked the significance of the great cavern, led them straight on without a pause. Soon they were climbing the steps up to the crypt.
Chapter XXI
I
Hamilton hurried down the stairway in the gatehouse turret, shutting his ears to the shouts of his friends. As Tony had surmised, he had no intention whatever of attempting to get them over the wall; the broken rope had been an admirable excuse. His motives in undertaking this forlorn hope by himself were twofold. In the first place he desperately wanted to shield both Valerie and Tony, since she loved him, or seemed to, from all harm. If anyone had to be hurt he would far rather it were he, even if death should be his reward. And secondly, in spite of everything, he still thought that the others rated Gaunt’s powers too high. He wanted to prove to his own satisfaction that the man was but mortal after all, and would prove as amenable to force as anyone else.
Sprinting across the courtyard, he cocked his pistol, and the tiny click of the bolt sent a furious joy flooding through his veins. Let Gaunt give him but half a chance and he would see who was the stronger.
The doors were all locked and the ground-floor windows shuttered, but he had anticipated this and laid his plans accordingly. One of those precious bullets was sufficient to shatter the fastening of the shutter on one of the kitchen windows, and the butt of the pistol did the rest. The noise seemed shockingly loud in the silence, and Hamilton stood waiting for several minutes before climbing in, but nothing stirred.
He found the cool interior a welcome change from the oppressive heat outside, and lit a cigarette before proceeding farther. He surveyed the disorder of the kitchen with a disdainful smile. Why, the two alleged wizards had lived like pigs, and very human pigs at that!