“You know what these are, of course?” asked Armitage.
“One of the star-stones from Mnar, I guess," I said, shrugging, "as described in the passages from the Necronomicon I have just been reading.”
“Precisely! Or such, at least, is our own supposition," nodded Armitage. "These were found in the northeastern parts of Mesopotamia, in a region we suspect but cannot prove to have been the approximate site of ancient Mnar. As yet, no trace of an urban site has been found, but subsequent excavations may yet unearth one—either the city of Sarnath or of Ib, as the urban centers are named in Alhazred. Literally hundreds of these star-stones have thus far been unearthed, scattered along a wandering southerly route which seems to have been that followed by some ancient migration—"
"Obviously the route followed by the Kishite migration," suggested Lapham. "Alhazred’s fourth book describes how the followers of the prophet Kish fled from Sarnath before its destruction, bearing the star-stones as a means of protection given them by the Elder Clods—"
"Yes, yes,” said Armitage gruffly, “but we are back dealing with mythology again, my dear Lapham, and none of these matters have yet been satisfactorily established. There may never have been a city such as Sarnath, or a prophet named Kish, save in legend: all we know is that the scar-stones truly exist, because we have found them.”
"Oh, very well, you doubting Thomas!" chuckled Lapham. “Bur at least we know that the star-stones and their powers against the Old Ones were known and used from very ancient times. Miskatonic’s 1910 expedition to Mesopotamia found ample evidence that the star-stones had been dug up time and again, over the ages—some of the excavations suggested Assyrian and Babylonian dates, others early dynastic Egyptian and even medieval Persian. It is quite obvious that many peoples throughout antiquity knew of the protective properties of the stones from Mnar, and dug them up as defenses against the monsters of Alhazredic demonology—"
At that point, just as the discussion seemed on the brink of degenerating into an abstruse, and rather acerbic, scholarly dispute, young Winfield Phillips diplomatically suggested we all go down to the faculty dining hall for luncheon.
THE dining hall was spacious and well appointed, the walls paneled in native oak, hand-rubbed to a glowing patina, and adorned with stiff, formal portraits of elderly professors of the university. We lunched on what appeared to be a traditional New England dish, clam chowder. Never having tasted the succulent stew before, as it is seldom served in Southern California, I was curious and also a trifle cautious; needless to say, I found it delicious.
Seneca Lapham and Henry Armitage argued over the meal as to the mode whereby the star-stones might be employed to nullify the malign influences radiated by, or centered within, the Ponape figurine. It seemed from this discussion that a considerable portion of their knowledge of the Alhazredic demonology was, after all, merely conjectural or theoretical. Dr. Lapham was of the opinion that simply placing the stone from Mnar in close proximity to the jade idol would counteract or negate its noxious influences. The silver-haired librarian, however, demurred: He voiced his opinion that the star-stone must be employed in some manner of ritual in order to render the statuette harmless. Young Winfield Phillips had little to offer to either side of the debate, and devoted himself largely to the steaming broth before him.
That afternoon, Dr. Lapham having canceled a scheduled lecture, we spent huddled together in the rare books room of the great library, poring over Alhazred, du Nord, Prinn, d’Erlette, Shrewsbury, and the other main authorities on this weird, uncanny mythology. If any such ritual as the one about which Armitage theorized actually existed, it was not to be found in the major reference works to hand.
I fretted the hours by, worried that my long journey into northern New England had been in vain, fearing that every passing hour brought us and our world closer to the moment when the directors of the Sanbourne Institute might casually and unknowingly decide to exhibit the figurine publicly. When and if this occurred no one could precisely say what horrible and malignant menace might thereby be unloosed on an unsuspecting and helpless mankind. The nature of the danger poor mad Dr. Blaine feared and dreaded was still unknown to us.
That evening, as I strolled home through the bitter and wintry streets to my room at the club, my mind was a seething turmoil of shapeless fears and inarticulate terrors. I did not know what it was that I could do to avert the immense and shadowy peril which hung over us all. I only knew that I must do—something. But—what?
A corner newsstand caught my eye; I paused to buy a copy of the evening paper. Later, in my cozy room, dozing over the paper in the easy-chair, I awoke suddenly with a start. Without voluntary action my gaze fell on the open but unread newspaper spread across my lap. One black headline grew and grew in my sphere of sight until it blotted out all else.
“CURSED” IDOL TO BE SHOWN TO PUBLIC FOR 1ST TIME
Mistery Statue Goes on Display Monday in Calif.
Monday! And this was Friday evening! With all the luck and speed in the world, and the most perfect traveling connections, I could not possibly reach Santiago in time to prevent it.
VIII.
AT noon the next day, March 22nd, Armitage and Lapham bade me their anxious farewells at the railway station. I had hurriedly composed and sent off a telegram to the directors the night before, begging them to postpone until my return the unveiling of the Ponape figurine. Alas, they would think me as deranged as poor Dr. Blaine if I dared hint at my reasons for asking this delay. The best I could do to give them a valid reason for removing the figurine from the South Gallery, and returning it to the relative security of the safe in the Curator's office, was to state (quite erroneously, of course) that I had discovered new information which proved the idol to be a hoax.
I hoped—but could not be certain—that this would be sufficient. They were prudent and cautious men, I knew, who would go to extreme lengths to avoid getting the Institute mixed up in anything disreputable or shady. On the other hand, they were vitally interested in the continued success and popularity of the Institute; and public curiosity in the mystery image, fanned to a blaze by reportorial sensationalism, was at a white heat. To display the figurine would lure the public in droves, as they well knew.
My only hope lay in the possibility that their prudence would outweigh their desire for heavy popular attendance.
“Farewell, my boy,” said Dr. Armitage, clasping my hand in his firm grip. His fine, aristocratic features looked strained and worried, and his keen blue eyes were shadowed with anxiety. "Let us hope that you are in time ... and that our small gift proves useful, after all!"
The "gift" of which he spoke weighed heavily in the left-hand inner breast pocket of my suit at that very moment.
I exchanged farewells, thanking Armitage and Lapham for their kindly interest, concern and generosity. Then I climbed aboard and followed the porter, laden with my bags, to the compartment. One last wave from the steam-fogged window at the two overcoated figures and they vanished behind me in the surge and clamor of departure.