Impelled by a deep urge, which came he knew not whence, he took the crucifix from his own girdle and laid it upon the dead man’s breast, folding the stiff, cold hands over it. “Into Thy Hands, O God!” he murmured, and stood up.
Tony flashed the beam of his torch round on the floor and noticed, all at once, the blasting-rod lying where Gaunt had dropped it. With a muttered exclamation he started forward and picked it up.
“What is it, Tony?” asked Valerie fearfully.
In a low voice he told them.
“So we were right,” said the rector when he had finished. “Vaughan resisted Gaunt and was destroyed. And then — what did Gaunt do? Where is he now?”
Tony frowned.
“The altar was open when we came up,” he mused. “I wonder if…? Yes, of course, he must be! God! What a fool I am! The great cave, the lair of the curse, that’s where he’ll be — not here!”
Quickly they climbed back into the altar and hurried down the steps. They had hardly reached the bottom when the rock underfoot began to tremble and from the darkness of the tunnel came a hollow rumbling sound. The three stopped, clinging together.
“Too late,” Tony whispered in a voice heavy with despair — “he has begun.” He looked at his watch. The hands stood dead on twelve. With a half-sob he turned away and leaned against the wall.
The rector spoke sharply:
“Tony, I absolutely forbid you to give in. Come, it may still be possible to stop him. John may be there.”
“If he is he can’t do anything — no one can. We’re finished, I tell you.”
Valerie timidly laid her hand on his arm.
“Tony dear,” she whispered, “for my sake, for all our sakes, don’t be like this. Let’s go through with it together.”
He looked at her wonderingly.
“Very well, my darling, if you wish. But it’s not earthly use.”
So they went on together. There was no opposition such as Hamilton had met with, only the steadily growing oppression of a power of darkness so terrific that their very souls sickened. With each step they took the vibration of the rock grew more violent, until they were hard put to it to keep their feet. The cold grew deadly, until every breath was an effort, cutting the lungs like a knife.
As they drew near the end of the passage the increasing radiance from in front made Tony’s torch unnecessary, and he switched it off, thrusting it in his pocket. They turned the corner and came to an abrupt halt.
On the ledge, silhouetted against the ghastly greenish glare, were two figures: John Hamilton, erect and motionless, and Nicholas Gaunt.
The latter, a bizarre picture in his ceremonial robes, was pacing slowly round the brazier, whispering softly. He stopped the moment the three appeared in the mouth of the tunnel and gazed at them incredulously, his eyes blazing with fury. He raised one hand, and Tony, at least expected to be destroyed instantly, but the doctor seemed to hesitate, and finally beckoned to them, saying:
“Come, my friends, and join your comrade. You are just in time to see the end.”
They made no effort to resist his will, but walked quietly forward and stood beside Hamilton, within the circle. Their friend looked at them, and though his eyes spoke volumes his lips did not move.
“You must forgive your companion’s seeming discourtesy,” said Gaunt suavely, “but I have had to place him under restraint. He was inclined to be violent when he arrived, and violence I abhor.”
Valerie gasped.
“You’ve not hurt him, have you?” she demanded.
Gaunt shook his head.
“No, I have not hurt him — yet. I would destroy you all, without the least compunction, but it would entail an expenditure of power which I can ill afford at present. Later you will all go together.”
“Dr. Gaunt,” said the rector quietly, “if you value your soul you will stop this infernal game of yours before it is too late.”
Gaunt laughed: an ugly sound.
“It is too late,” he said, “the wheels of destiny are turning, and nothing can stop them now.”
At this point Tony, who had been carrying the blasting-rod ever since he had found it in the crypt, swung the heavy thing clubwise over his head, but the doctor was too quick for him. One backward leap took him out of range, and like the crack of a whip his voice rang out:
“Stop! You cannot move!”
Paralyzed, Tony remained as he was, one arm in the air. Gaunt quietly took the rod from his helpless fingers and threw it out of the circle.
“Now be still and silent, all of you. I cannot concentrate in the midst of such commotion.”
His tone was quite commonplace, but upon each of his hearers descended the same invisible bonds of silence and immobility which bound Hamilton. Rooted to the rock, they stood and watched.
Going to the extreme edge of the circle, where it verged upon the brink of the platform, Gaunt fixed his eyes on a point in the centre of the cavern floor, far below, and began to move his lips soundlessly. The rumbling sound which had been going on faintly all the while like distant thunder now grew louder and more near, and the shuddering of the rock became a steady pulse. The green light flooding the place waxed and waned, seeming to vibrate in sympathy.
Suddenly a great circular expanse of rock in the middle of the floor below bulged violently upwards. For an instant it quivered there like a gigantic bubble, then it broke, and in the pit beneath writhed the black slime of corruption which was the substance of the curse-monstrosity. The very air seemed to darken as the horror came into view, and the essence of concentrated evil rose from it in waves so overpowering that the senses of Gaunt’s helpless companions reeled.
The doctor smiled with quiet satisfaction and turned towards them.
“There it lies, my friends,” he said — “the so-called curse of the Lovells — mine now to do with as I will. As I suppose you know, I had intended to set it free and let it spread over the whole world, but your presence here has made that undesirable. Be not too thankful until I have done! I hope to do a much greater thing than that.
“Long ages ago the greatest magician, perhaps, this world has ever known dwelt here, and conducted his magical experiments in this very cavern. Here, at this same hour, he succeeded in doing a thing no man had ever done before: he made a breach in the Veil which hangs between this creation and the Outer Chaos. For but an instant of Time the Veil was rent, and through the breach came this monstrosity. The Magus bound it to this rock and went away — none knows whither — leaving his experiment half done. Ages after came the monks, and by reason of their exceeding holiness dwelt here unharmed by that which lay dormant beneath their feet. Then came the first of the Lovells, committing sacrilege; the creature woke, and the Abbot’s words, by vague intention, and by one chance phrase, completed a phase of the ancient ritual; and it fastened itself upon the house of Lovell, battening upon their very life, until at last Tony Lovell cut the bond which bound it to himself and gave the reins to me.
“But it grows weary of its exile here: it longs for its own kind. The hour is ripe for me to do once more the thing that Great One did so long ago. Something of his wisdom lives in me, and through the strength and blind ferocity of that dark monster, yearning for its kind, I shall rend once more the Veil, and open wide the breach between this world and Chaos. But this time it shall not be shut, but shall stand open for eternity, letting the Outer Darkness in upon the world.”