The phantom stood above the slab … his arms wide, the sword in one hand …
The words of Satanic invocation … barbaric, incomprehensible words, as the sword drew figures in the air …
The smoke became ever more dense. I could barely make out what was happening on the other side of the room. The words of conjuration reverberated in my ears, like the howling of wolves at prey.
Then a terrible scream, and the cry of a wounded animal beneath the pitiless stars.
The phantom flung the sword away and dashed out through the opening in the wall.
In that instant my nightmare, or vision — I have no idea what to call it — ended. I was suddenly as sober and sane as a person is often said to be when his life is on the brink.
It came to me in a flash that the Devil-conjuror must have seen some terrible sight that drained his courage, and made him throw down his sword and fly. He was fleeing from the horror he had called up within himself.
Now it was my turn to flee.
I darted out through the gap the apparition had used. In a trice I was in the open air, with the building behind me.
It was night. I was standing on the plateau that had been my last memory of the outer world. It was deserted. The rocks were so white it was as if the bones of the earth were protruding through its skin.
But I was free. I had made my escape.
I set off into the night, not minding which way I went. Nothing worse could happen to me now. I had escaped and would sooner or later be among human beings again.
Reaching the edge of the clearing I looked back, and saw the house on fire. I re-entered the woods, and made my way happily and steadily downhill.
After a while I lay down to sleep in a friendly meadow. When I woke, the sun was high in the sky, as in a children’s story. I got up and continued on my way. I was extremely hungry, but in excellent spirits. Soon I reached a farm. The farmer’s wife stared at me in astonishment. My clothes were crumpled, torn and filthy, and my face was disfigured by several days’ growth of stubble. But she was a kindly soul, and for the money I gave her fed me copiously on cheese and milk. I was unspeakably happy to have pennies and shillings in my pocket, with cash again at the centre of things between man and man.
She pointed me the way to Abersych.
I must have been walking an hour or so, along a pleasant, sunlit road, when a large figure approached, waving his arms. As we neared I recognised John Griffith, whose medieval costume had so alarmed me that first night at Llanvygan.
“Thank heavens you’ve turned up, Doctor sir!” he boomed. “The entire staff and all the locals are out looking for you. There’s a ten-pound reward for whoever finds you. It’ll be mine, if you haven’t met anyone else yet.”
“No, Griffith, you’re the first. Congratulations on the ten pounds. But what’s happened to the Earl?”
“To the Earl, sir? Nothing, to the best of my knowledge. He’s at home in Llanvygan. But we must get back to Abersych. We’ll find Mr Osborne and the German lady there. They’re also looking for you, sir.”
And so it was. On arrival I shaved and sat down to lunch at the inn. But just as I was starting on the soup, Lene appeared and greeted me warmly. From her I gathered all the news.
By the time I set out on my strangely-ended journey, Osborne had already left by cart for Abersych, and from there he went on to the police station at Bala. The police of course knew nothing about Morvin or Eileen St Claire. Filled with desperation, Osborne had the sudden idea of telephoning Llanvygan. He was told the Earl had just that moment returned, safe and sound, but extremely nervous and upset, and had locked himself, as usual, in his rooms. Reassured, Osborne made his way back to Caerbryn and took Lene, Cynthia and the car home.
“We haven’t seen him since. The word is, he’s in bed with a fever. So of course nobody knows how his meeting with Mrs Roscoe went. We organised a search for you. The whole neighbourhood has been on the alert. For two days they’ve been scouring the mountains behind Caerbryn. But I haven’t told you the strangest thing of all. The Earl came back with the little boy who vanished so mysteriously, the one who was abducted by a horseman. But that’s all we know about it. The Earl sent the child back to his father before anyone could speak to him. “But oh, if you knew how hungry I am again! Mind you, I’ve already had my lunch. It must be because I’m so happy you’ve turned up. What shall I have? Do you know, I’d like a bit of Welsh rarebit. It’s the best thing I’ve come across in this whole creepy province.”
And she set about the toasted cheese with gusto. It is, after all, the national dish.
How happy I was to see her appetite, her glowing, puppy-like physical health. The entire, and very substantial, dish vanished in four mouthfuls — this is no exaggeration — and tears sprang to my eyes. Lene thumped me heartily on the back, but had great difficulty assuaging my grief.
At that moment Osborne appeared. He was pale and haggard, and the angle of his necktie outdid every previous achievement in its wild abandon.
“Hello, Doctor. So you’re back. Thank God — I was really worried. Do you know what’s happened?”
And he flopped down in a chair.
“Well, say something, you idiot!” Lene barked at him.
“The British Empire was built upon self-control, Lene. But that’s not what I have to tell you. So just listen.”
“Speak, or I’ll murder you,” she yelled.
“This morning the police found Morvin and Mrs Roscoe. Somewhere, on a godforsaken little upland near Betws-y-teg, the pair of them had had a peculiar little hut built, very hurriedly, in just a few days. It was a sort of cube-like structure, without doors or windows. The workmen were very unhappy about doing it. The old Welsh kings are said to be buried there, and Cwn Annwn, the red-eared dog, has often been seen in the area.
“This morning two policemen went up to the plateau to look for Bátky. And, can you imagine? … the hut had burned down. From what was left, they decided that it had happened quite recently … in the early hours of this morning in fact. Among the ruins they found the charred bodies of a man and a woman. There was just about enough of them left for the workmen to identify our friends.”
“How can it have happened?” asked Lene.
“The most reasonable explanation would be suicide. You never can tell when knowledge of one’s crimes might suddenly turn into a guilty conscience.”
“So then,” Lene remarked, “Llanvygan is safe, and I have come to the end of my mission. But it’s all very strange. What do you make of it, Doctor? And by the by, you haven’t said a word about where you’ve been gadding these past few days. Some little Welshwoman?”
“I’m saying nothing, Lene. I can’t. There are some things that have an inner truth, but become nonsense when spoken. It just isn’t possible to explain … We live simultaneously in two worlds, and there are two levels of meaning. One can be understood by everyone, the other is beyond words, and is utterly horrible.”
“You’re in fine philosophical mood today,” she retorted. “And considering that you are a Doctor of Philosophy, your wisdoms are rather banal and dilettantish. But we won’t pry into your secrets, or the little Welshwoman hiding behind your hocus-pocus.”
Osborne smacked his brow.
“If Mrs Roscoe is dead, the Roscoe fortune, as far as I am aware, devolves automatically on the house of Pendragon. A tidy little sum. Even if Asaph had discovered how to make gold we would never have become this rich. Hm, Lene?”
“I’m not happy about it. I don’t believe in large sums of money. It’s not good news for you, Osborne. If you had no money at all you’d be a dear little chap. I couldn’t wish for a better husband. It’d be such a joy looking after you.”