Half an hour later Hamilton was ringing the bell of a large, gloomy house overlooking the Heath.
A manservant admitted him, led him to a sombre waiting-room, and took his card to the doctor.
There was no fire in the room, and after ten minutes Hamilton began to feel both cold and impatient. He was, in fact, debating whether to retreat forthwith and try his luck elsewhere, when the servant reappeared, saying that the doctor would see him now. He was conducted across the hall and shown into a small, barely furnished study. Behind a desk sat Dr. Gaunt, writing. He looked up as Hamilton came in and smiled.
“A thousand apologies for keeping you waiting, Mr. Hamilton. I have been on the telephone with our mutual friend, and he has told me all about you.”
Hamilton’s vague annoyance was instantly swept away by the other’s overwhelming personality. He had a swift impression of a tall, lean figure; a pale, handsome face, crowned with dark, silver-streaked hair; and a pair of the most amazing eyes he had ever seen. He took the outstretched hand, and was surprised at the strength of the slim, delicate fingers which gripped his. Taking the chair which was offered him, he sat down, facing the doctor across the desk.
“Now,” the latter went on, “let me hear all you know of the case, from your own lips.”
For the second time that morning Hamilton related the history of the Lovells, telling what little he knew of Sir Anthony, and revealing his own intimate knowledge of Tony. While he talked Dr. Gaunt’s piercing grey eyes never left his face. When he had done the doctor said:
“Excellent, Mr. Hamilton. You tell your story well. A writer by profession, are you not? I have read some of your work with profound admiration.”
Hamilton murmured a polite disclaimer, and the other continued:
“I have formed my own opinion of the case already. I imagine that, as in the case of your young friend, this ancient tale of the family curse has gradually taken possession of Sir Anthony’s mind, until now at last, possibly by some mischance or accident, it has suddenly developed into an overwhelming obsession, and put his health, if not his very life, in jeopardy. You could not have done better than to come to me, though I speak with all humility, for I have had much experience of these complexes, and their treatment. I shall be delighted to take up the case. Exactly where is this” — he referred to the telegram before him — “this Kestrel, and how may I reach it?”
“It’s not too easy to get at, in the ordinary way, Doctor,” Hamilton told him. “It’s an island, a couple of miles off the north coast of Cornwall, and the nearest inhabited spot is a little fishing village called Pentock, half-way between Portreath and St. Agnes’s Head — quite off the map. But I’ll wire Tony you’re coming, and he’ll meet you with the car at Redruth. You can get that far by train.”
Gaunt smiled.
“It sounds most intriguing. I like unusual places, don’t you, Mr. Hamilton? I will go down tomorrow.”
When the details had been settled Hamilton departed, going at once to wire Tony. He was highly delighted with the success of his mission, and much impressed by the doctor.
The latter, when his visitor had gone, made his way to another room, very different from those which Hamilton had seen: a large, comfortable room, lined with packed bookshelves and littered with strange apparatus.
In the centre stood a long table, pinned to which was a great sheet of parchment, on which a man was tracing an intricate diagram in coloured inks. He was short, and immensely fat, with a massive, hairless head, which he turned slowly in Gaunt’s direction.
“Well?” he asked, his thick lips scarcely moving.
The doctor came up to the table, rubbing his hands together.
“Very well, Simon,” he replied with a chuckle. “You have heard, no doubt, of Kestrel Isle, and the accursed family of Lovell?”
“Who has not amongst us?”
“I am invited to go there, to attend Sir Anthony Lovell in my professional capacity.”
“What?” The other was on his feet, his lethargy gone, his narrow eyes wide open, his loose mouth working with excitement.
“Exactly!” smiled the doctor. “This may well be the opportunity for which we have waited centuries. If it is so, then the tide has turned at last.”
“You — you will take me with you, Doctor?”
“Not yet. I shall go alone, and — er — treat Sir Anthony. When the first step is taken I will send for you. As you know, in spite of everything, not one of us has set foot on the island for nearly four hundred years. The conditions may not be altogether favourable — at first. I go tomorrow; meanwhile, prepare such things as I shall need. See to it.”
“Very well, Doctor.”
As Gaunt went out the other stared after him, gripping the table-top with both hands. His heavy body was shaking like a jelly. Sinking to his knees, he buried his face in his hands.
“O Lord,” he whispered, “let it be so, even as we hope. Thy Kingdom come… Thy Kingdom come…
II
After Tom Tregellis had left for the mainland with his wire to Hamilton, Tony spent a restless day. He had breakfast and luncheon with Dr. Pellew, but since that gentleman did not seem disposed to stir from the fireside, nor to discuss the vexed question of Sir Anthony’s illness, Tony passed the time refreshing his knowledge of the geography of the Abbey, and of the island generally.
The latter was roughly triangular, being perhaps a quarter of a mile across at its widest point. The south-western apex rose to a height of four or five hundred feet above the sea, and on this, the highest point, the Abbey was built, its grey walls merging with the perpendicular cliffs on two sides. Here the granite was naked, but on the opposite side of the island, facing the mainland, the ground fell away steeply, forming a depression, filled with a riot of gorse and coarse grass. At the foot of the low cliff at this point was a narrow beach of sand and shingle, terminated beneath the Abbey by a wall protecting the tiny harbour, whose other sides were formed from the natural rock.
A device, similar to that found at Polperro, had been adopted to close completely the narrow harbour-mouth in the event of severe storms. Slots were cut in the rock on one side and the wall on the other, and a water-gate, made of great baulks of timber, could be lowered across the channel.
From the harbour a steep rock stairway zigzagged up the face of the cliff to the one gate in the massive outer wall, which, quite bare and windowless, completely surrounded the Abbey buildings.
The Abbey itself was extremely severe in design, and looked far more like a fortress than its name implied. Indeed, the original structure had been much modified by the early Lovells, whose minds had turned to more war-like purposes than had those of the monks who first built it. The main building was a rough oblong, with a square tower at either end. Narrow, slit-like windows, over-shadowed by the outer wall, accounted for the perpetual gloom of the ground floor.
Tony, muffled to the eyes against the bitter wind, was pacing along a narrow walk within the parapet of the courtyard wall. What strange whim, he wondered, had possessed those old monks to build their home in such a place? Perhaps an act of defiance against the inhuman, godless sea which beat ceaselessly upon it; perhaps a great act of devotion to the God of all things and all places. Had they felt nearer to Him here than in the restless haunts of men? If solitude had been their wish, they had it here.
He leaned against the crenellated battlement and gazed over the sea to the mainland, where, less than three miles away, he could make out the tiny village of Pentock, clear in the pale sunlight. It looked so near! It was near, and yet, in truth, how far away! This place was a little world apart.