He sobbed and wept in pitiful hysteria, so I motioned Gray to bring some whisky in, and tried to steady the poor chap.
“It’s no good coddling me,” he raved, “I used to tell myself it was a case of nerves and I was only seeing things. But now I know the affair is real. When Gray picked me up that night I knew it was not fancy. As I’m alive, there was something both visible and—yes, good God—and tangible. I touched the brute, Aitchison, like a snake there in the sand. And every night I wake to feel that horrid slime and find my hands all bleeding with it again. Yet, because I cannot prove it to you, you think I’m just a ramping lunatic, eh?”
His voice was rising again. I could not answer him and dared not ask for details from him in such a state. Moreover, as I looked at Gray, I knew the old man too believed the reality of Calladine’s account. Then, on the spur of the moment, a way occurred to me that might, I thought, bring reason into play.
“Now listen,” I said, “you’ve had your say. Both you and Gray believe all this. But I tell you plainly I’m convinced there is no unearthly monster in the case. I’m convinced this ‘sea blood’ is a delusion. I’m also convinced, Colin, there is no such thing as your Scallion Stone, or any other shred of fact behind this stuff. You can’t prove anything.”
“And there you’re wrong, sir,” answered Gray quietly. “I’ve not seen the ‘blood’ on Mr. Calladine, but there’s them as did see it on that bairn. And I have seen queerish sights around the shore, times past.”
“What things have you seen then?” I demanded.
“Well,” said he uncomfortably, “they’re hard to talk about. Movements in the sand, I’d say, and sometimes lights and shapes—uncanny things, sir, particular near-in at sea.”
“Until I see something myself,” said I impatiently, “I cannot help thinking the pair of you are deluded. You can’t show me anything ‘tangible.’ ”
“I think I could take you to the Stone, if need be, Mr. Aitchison,” said Gray. “Would you believe us then? It was about the time I took Mr. Nettleby, our other Vicar, to it that I saw those lights very plain at night. If I could get Mr. Calladine there, and him to touch the Stone, I am sure, sir, he might be saved.”
I noticed Calladine prick up his ears a bit but he said nothing. I too was hesitant, but a moment’s thought showed me my opportunity.
“You really can find us the Stone?” I said slowly, like one prepared to be convinced. “If you do prove right, I’m with you both. After all, I suppose, it’s not unreasonable: when there’s a curse, there’s a way of breaking it. If natural powers are really beaten, I’ll join you to get this supernatural charm. I meet you with an open mind.
“So cheer up, Calladine,” I added. “We’ll fathom this and have your mind freed from the beastly scourge somehow. And when can we see this Stone to start with, Colin? The sooner the better—but not a word to Mrs. Gray.”
The old man thought we could manage it next day and promised he would have a boat ready straight after breakfast if we wished. And so it was agreed. We drank up more cheerfully than we had done with Calladine since first I knew him. When I saw him up to bed again I felt I could congratulate myself on having humored him at least some way toward recovery.
I did not myself intend going to bed just then, despite the departure of Calladine and Gray, for it was not yet ten o’clock. In all probability I should have sat with a book for a while. But my inclinations were overruled by the importunate looks and antics of Gray’s young terrier, Rap. It seemed a pity on such a fine night to refuse giving the poor little fellow a stroll, so I took up my hat and stick, and off we went.
While Rap was pursuing his own particular investigations here and there, I too was trying to sniff out a trail of sense and satisfaction in the dark corners of my mind. I began of course to seek justification for my role of benevolent hypocrite. These old wives’ tales of Gray’s were too fantastic for my serious credence, but this I thought might well be a case where—psychologically speaking—Beelzebub might cast out Beelzebub. And for Calladine’s sake it seemed worth trying: to cure a deluded sufferer it could certainly not be very wrong for me to pretend to share the delusion. So I thought.
Then, for some unknown reason, I began to toy with the matter in a reflective rather than a practical mood. Perhaps it was the struggling moonlight softening the atmosphere and my common sense at the same time. I tried in vain to dismiss the significance of Gray’s having seen something as well as Calladine’s. It must be superstitious imagination, I told myself, but who had started the process? Had Calladine influenced Gray, or had the gossip and attitude of Gray and his neighbors home in upon Calladine? Superstition is curiously infectious. Would anyone ever have seen a ghost if he had not first heard of someone else’s seeing one?
By this time our walk had taken us almost to the castle. My steps, or Rap’s, being on familiar ground, decided their own route, and I soon found myself looking out to sea from the inner bailey. It was the spot where Calladine had stood when I glanced at him from the window and first noticed him with that queer, fascinated stare. And now I was looking out where he had looked, toward the Longstone light. It was about high tide, and I was taking a drowsy interest in the rhythm of the rollers, crumbling to whiteness in the dim moonlight, when something made me strangely alert.
A little beyond what would be low-water mark when the tide ebbed, there seemed to be a patch of submerged light, like a pool of phosphorescent green, shimmering on the sea bed. From it there came, straggling limply in all directions, a number of short rootlike lines. But one line, like a huge proboscis, thicker than the rest, was pointed shorewards. To all appearance it was anchored there, for not only did it heave and waver in the water, but I caught glimpses of it shining here and there across the sands. But my eye was mainly on that central ganglion in the sea, with its floating, nervous threads.
Now, as I looked, the color changed and the whole shape shone magically transfused with crimson, like some colossal lobster seen through the thick, distorting medium of a bull’s-eye windowpane. Then suddenly up shot those cruel feelers; a seabird shrieked; I saw an eddy of dispersing wings above the bloody spot, and all was gone. In a twinkling the glowing light had died and every mark of the apparition vanished.
I waited, staring, to assure my wits but nothing further happened. Yet Rap was back, cowering at my side, no doubt disturbed—as I was—by that harrowing scream. Back to the inn we went and I had strange thoughts to ponder on the way. If superstition fools the senses to such a pitch, then who is sane? All my earlier self-assurance had deserted me, and when I got to bed it was to find but intermittent sleep. A haunting spirit of misgiving brooded over me and cast a shadow on the outcome of the morrow’s doings.
Events moved rapidly that day. First, when we woke, our plans had gone awry. Calladine was ill and haggard beyond description—after some extra-hellish dream, he said, some nightmare on the fate of that dead girl. He was completely demoralized once more, and in no mood to keep our bargain of the previous night.
“I saw her beckoning to me, poor little wretch, as the boat sank and the waters were drowning her cries,” he muttered. “I know this is an evil day for me out there. That sea moan is sounding in my head like a ghost call. Let’s all stay here till it goes off. After today I know I shall be all right again.”
Poor Calladine! I never shall forget those words of his, and that imploring look. What devil drove me to make light of such an appeal? Oh, yes, I soothed and sympathized all right. I coaxed him off to rest again. I even fetched tobacco for him from the shop. But in my heart I secretly determined I was going to see that Stone myself: Gray had the boat all ready and it might be many a day before the sea was again suitable to cross; and then I must be back to town next day at least, I argued to myself. My own experiences had wrought in me a fascination close on frenzy to see and know the most that could be known. And soon, so deadly soon, I knew it!