Hamilton sought and found his torch, lying where he had dropped it in the mouth of the tunnel. Cautiously they descended to the floor of the cavern, and, skirting the empty pit, came to the place where Tony was.
At first they thought him to be dead already, so still he lay; but when Hamilton had pillowed the bruised head on his coat he opened his eyes and smiled weakly up at them.
“All clear, John?” he asked.
“All clear, Tony, thanks to you.”
“Not thanks to me, John. Something came over me, and I was set free from his power. I had to do it then. Perhaps God chose me as His agent after all.”
“He did, my son,” the rector whispered. “Look at your hands.”
Wonderingly, Tony lifted them and saw the Stigmata.
“Lord, I am not worthy,” he murmured, but the glory in his face belied the words.
For some minutes there was silence save for the quiet weeping of Valerie, who knelt beside him. Presently he touched her dark curls, saying:
“Don’t cry, my darling. It’s better so — far better. I’ve squared the reckoning now, and everything is all right. You never loved me, did you? Not as you loved John. It was selfish of me to ask you to. Please forgive me. Be good to her, John.”
Hamilton caught his arm and pressed it gently, unashamed of the tears which ran down his face. Tony spoke again, in a voice so low that they had to bend close to hear the words:
“Valerie, won’t you smile for me?”
She lifted her lovely face, struggling bravely with her tears, and gave him such a pitiful little smile that Hamilton thought his heart would surely break.
“That’s better, my darling. Now one kiss. You don’t mind, John?”
Hamilton shook his head and turned away; he could not speak.
“Good-bye, my sweet,” Tony murmured, as she lifted her lips from his; then his eyes darkened, and his head fell back. So passed the last of the Lovells.
The rector stood up, crossing himself.
“Come, my children,” he said, “we must get out of here at once. The material fabric of this place has been tried too far, and with the monstrosity withdrawn I doubt if it will stand much longer.”
“And leave him here?” Hamilton asked.
“Why not? His soul is far away. Should not his body lie in the home of his fathers? It is not an abode of Darkness any more.”
Even as he spoke there was a rending sound from above, and a great mass of rock fell from the roof, splintering not many yards from where they stood.
So they made their way back up the tortuous pathway to the ledge and along the winding tunnel to the sea-cave. Every few minutes a hollow, echoing crash resounded behind them, and when at last they reached the sea the air in the tunnel was full of a fine dust of pulverized rock.
They found the boat moored where they had left it, clambered in, and cast off at once. The sea was calm, but the fog had gone from the face of the waters and a fresh breeze was springing up. Hamilton took the wheel and steered for Pentock, while the rector sat in the stern holding Valerie in his arms. The girl was utterly worn out by all that she had gone through and lay quite still, her dark head pillowed on her uncle’s shoulder.
They had put perhaps half a mile of blue water between them and the island when some indefinable impulse caused Hamilton to stop the engine and look back. Wondering, his companions followed his gaze, and for some minutes they sat there in the gently rocking boat looking at the once familiar but now strangely different scene.
All was as it had ever been: the dark mass of the island crowned with the grey walls of the Abbey, merging imperceptibly into steep cliffs beneath; but there was no menace in it now, no veiled threat to mar its austere beauty. Instead, a kind of tragic loveliness, such as must for ever lie upon the hill of Calvary, now wrung the hearts of the three who looked at it. In this place also a young man had given himself for the world, greatly loving and greatly loved. Gone too was that air of immemorial strength which once had hung about the battlements; instead, a hint of unreality — a touch of the mirage — wove itself into the picture.
Then, even as they watched, the mirage began to fade. Clear across the water came a curious grinding sound, and the massive right-hand tower of the Abbey crumpled inwards, vanishing in a spurt of flying rubble; the roar of its fall followed almost instantly. Quite slowly the second tower leaned across the main body of the building, disintegrating as it fell, until only the outer wall was left, while a great cloud of dust, belching from the ruins within, spread out across the sky. The dissolution of centuries, hitherto held in check by the indwelling power of the curse-monstrosity, was accomplished in the space of a few minutes. Hamilton made as if to speak, but the rector silenced him with a gesture; the end was not yet.
The dust darkened the sky and made it difficult to see clearly what was happening, but it seemed that now the whole crest of the island was caving in. Hamilton realized that the roof of the great cavern within must have given way, for the island seemed to be swallowing the ruins of the Abbey bodily, until at length the rock was naked as when the sea first thrust it up, only a gaping chasm remaining to tell the tale of what had been. But even now outraged Nature was not satisfied, for a long gash opened in the face of the cliff nearest to them, and a vast mass of rock detached itself and slid into the sea with a mighty splash. The whole island appeared to shudder and tilt slightly, like an iceberg about to turn turtle, and then, with a gargantuan convulsion, sank into the depths. The waters rushed roaring together into the gulf where it had been, met, and spouted skywards in a column of foam many hundreds of feet into the air.
As he saw the resultant wave rushing towards them Hamilton hurriedly started the engine and turned the launch bow-on to meet it. They were tossed up like a cockle-shell, and for some minutes were fully occupied in clinging to their seats. When at last, drenched with spray, they could lift their heads again, the sea was empty to the horizon. It was as if Kestrel had never been.
DISCUSSING DARK SANCTUARY
(An Interview with H.B. Gregory)
JP: I and the readers of Inhuman are very appreciative of your taking the time for this interview. I know that I was floored to hear from your daughter some weeks ago, as all our attempts to locate you or an estate ran into a dead end. While my surprise was extreme, I can’t imagine what your reaction would have been to find that your novel was in print after all these years from some tiny company in the US. Could you tell us about your reaction to the news?
HBG: I was amazed, but extremely gratified to learn of the resurrection of Dark Sanctuary; but sad that it came so late in my life when my late wife (to whom it was dedicated) and most of my old friends were gone. As a practicing Anglo-Catholic I hope it may strike a blow for Christianity in these faithless days.
JP: Dark Sanctuary is certainly a classic tale of the struggle of good versus evil, but seems to share much in the way of atmosphere with the work of American writer H.P. Lovecraft. Had you read Lovecraft?