On returning home I felt more than ever determined to get at the truth concerning the mystery of Ebberswale church. But, I reflected, it was a gruesome and dangerous business to attempt such an undertaking single-handed, and I resolved to apply to an intimate friend of mine, Martin Radcliffe, the well-known anthropologist, for assistance. A letter describing my dilemma brought in reply a telegram announcing that he would be with me a day later.
In due season he arrived, and in the course of a long walk I described to him the entire details of my adventure. I would have hesitated to confide them to anyone else, but as Radcliffe was a man who had encountered strange happenings in many parts of the world he was by no means sceptical regarding my experience, and told me some remarkable things of the same nature which supplemented it. We resolved to watch the church closely after nightfall.
To that end we commenced our vigil underneath its shadow on the night following his arrival, but although we watched for at least four hours nothing whatever occurred. We had taken up a position almost directly beneath the gargoyle which so closely resembled the horrible apparition I had encountered, but on the succeeding night I thought it better that we should conceal ourselves in the shrubbery opposite the church. We were shod with goloshes to ensure absolute silence in movement, and cautiously clambered over the fence and crouched down among the thick bushes just as the last silver streaks of daylight were blotted out by the heavy night shadows.
On this occasion our vigil was rewarded with startling suddenness, for only a minute or two after we had hidden ourselves in the shrubbery, and made up our minds for a long wait, did the appalling thing happen. I had from the first riveted my gaze upon the gargoyle above us. At first I could not believe the evidence of my senses, but I thought I saw a movement, a kind of tremor, pass through the stone. I nudged Radcliffe, who signalled by an answering nudge that he too had seen. Slowly, very gradually, life seemed to creep into the image, animating the rigid limbs and relaxing its tense outlines, until at length it raised its horned head as if from sleep and looked round it as does a beast of prey when awakened. Then with an agile bound it leapt upon the roof of the church, and made its way along the rooftree until it came to a buttress, down which it crawled slowly until it alighted on the ground. Round the angle of the church it disappeared, walking on hands and feet, and with the utmost caution we followed, taking elaborate care not to make the least noise that could possibly attract its attention.
As we rounded the church tower we could see a dim shape about thirty yards in front of us, crawling slowly along the highway, nose to ground, like a tracking beast. Every now and then it stopped and looked around it, and as it did so we halted and concealed ourselves as best we might in the roadside shadows. I felt cool enough, but was not without a sense of the very real danger we ran, but to Radcliffe, who had seen it for the first time, the experience, as he has since admitted, was a little unnerving.
Suddenly, after a halt, the creature raised its head, and giving a low, short growl clambered over a fence and commenced to run across a field on our right. Cautiously we followed. We had now no cover, and it was necessary to exercise increased care not to be seen. Falling upon our faces, we stalked our quarry, grovelling and writhing over the damp grass like Indian hunters. More than once the fiendish thing in front of us must have suspected that it was being followed, for it stopped dead and stood sniffing the night air in an attitude eloquent of distrust of its surroundings. Once, indeed, it faced completely round and snarled, and we thought that it had discovered us. But in the end it turned once more and advanced, as did we, after allowing it a little longer start.
Gradually we made up on it, and observed it crawl towards a large wooden building on the outskirts of a farm. By this time we were close to it, and to our intense surprise we saw the thing, material and living as it seemed, pass through the wall of the wooden structure. Silently we ran to the building, which from the characteristic odour that emanated from it we knew to be a cow-house, and peering through chinks in the wall of boards we looked for signs of the monster within. As our eyes grew accustomed to the darkness of the interior we gazed upon a ghastly sight enough. The horror had seized upon a young calf, and its black, protruding lips were glued to the poor animal’s neck. A dreadful sucking sound reached our ears.
Suddenly an involuntary exclamation of disgust came from my companion. The demon creature instantly abandoned its prey, and although we were separated from it by thick deal boards it evidently saw us, for it turned and faced us, baring its horrid fangs and uttering its low, leopard-like snarl. Crouching backwards, it sprang full at us with a furious yelling, right through the wall.
We started backwards, and apart, so that the great, black shape leapt between us. Howling in the most appalling manner it turned, on recovery, and rushed at me in a wolflike transport of anger. I was armed only with the heavy stick with which I had aimed a blow at it through the window, and as I lashed at its long, contorted body with this it gave a piteous whimper. Once more I struck at it with the stout bamboo, and it darted back. As it did so, Radcliffe, who had seized a great axe lying against the wall of the cow-house, aimed a mighty blow at it, and I saw the axe cleave its head. With a series of yells it turned and sped into the darkness.
Once it had gone, the revulsion came, and we hurried home.
We both spent a restless night, and about eight o’clock next morning Radcliffe entered my room.
‘Let’s go for a walk,’ he said drearily. ‘I haven’t slept a wink. Besides—I want to see—something in the church.’
I jumped out of bed, and in ten minutes we were at the church gates. We made for that angle of the building from which the gargoyle projected.
‘It’s there!’ muttered Radcliffe. ‘Good heavens, how like!’
‘Yes,’ I replied, ‘it’s certainly there, but—but look at its head. It has only one horn!’
Sure enough but one crescent horn, and that the right, decorated the rugged poll of the gargoyle.
Radcliffe’s eyes were directed upon the ground. I followed his gaze. There upon the gravel, directly below the gargoyle, lay the missing horn, with a portion of the head adhering.
We stared at one another.
‘That was my blow, Frain,’ murmured Radcliffe.
‘Then, sir, I must request you to give me your name and address at once, as I intend to report your act of vandalism to the police,’ said a voice.
Turning, we beheld the Rev. Edward North. He was in a white heat of passion, and trembled violently.
‘I scarcely think you will report the matter to the police, Mr North,’ I said very politely. ‘Indeed, I am sure you will not.’
‘But I shall, sir!’ stormed the vicar. ‘I shall, and without delay.’
‘Do so, then, sir,’ I retorted, ‘and see what happens. The blow, the results of which you see, was not struck in the precincts of the church. Do you suggest that my friend climbed the roof to deal it?’
‘I—I suggest nothing!’ he roared. ‘You will not be able to substantiate your absurd stories to the authorities. You are a pair of vandals.’
‘And you, sir,’ I thundered, losing my temper wholly, ‘are a coward who, rather than create a scandal in connection with your charge, would tolerate the presence within its precincts of an abomination and a sacrilege unspeakable, as well as an active danger to the community you serve.’