"There's some Devil's work been performed here!" gasped the
newly-appointed vicar, turning over the ashes with trembling hands,
while at the same time I, too, bent and examined the fused fragments of
the Communion cup.
The recollection of the miraculous changes effected in my own room was
fresh within my memory, and I stood amazed. The agency to which was due
the melting of the chalice was still a mystery, but had I not seen
Aline, the Woman of Evil, leave the church?
It was apparent that Yelverton had not detected her presence, or he
would most probably have referred to it. He loved her with an
all-absorbing love, yet, like myself, he seemed to hold her in some
mysterious dread, the reason of which I always failed to discover. His
theory that the clergy should not marry was, I believe, a mere cloak to
hide his terror of her. This incident showed me that now he had come
back to his old parish she haunted him as she had done in the past,
sometimes unseen, and at others boldly greeting him. That night she had
sat a few pews behind me listening to his brilliant discourse, veiled
and unrecognised in the half-lighted church, and had escaped quickly, in
order that none should be aware of her presence.
But I had caught a glimpse of her, and knowledge of her visit had been
immediately followed by this astounding discovery. Her evil influence
had once more asserted itself upon a sacred object and destroyed it.
Truly her power was Satanic. Yet she was so calm, so sweet, so
eminently beautiful, that I did not wonder that he loved her. Indeed, I
recollected how enthusiastically I once had fallen down and worshipped
her.
And now had I not a compact with her? Had I not given myself over to
her, body and soul, to become her puppet and her slave?
I shuddered when I recollected that hour of my foolishness. This Woman
of Evil held me irrevocably in her power.
"How strange!" I exclaimed at last, when I had thoroughly examined the
ashes. I would have told him of Aline's presence, but, with my lips
sealed by my promise, I feared to utter a word, lest I might be stricken
by her deadly hate, for she certainly was something more than human.
"Strange!" he cried. "It's marvellous. Feel! The ashes are quite
warm! The heat required to melt and fuse a heavy vessel like that would
be enormous. It couldn't have been done by any natural means."
"How, then, do you account for it?" I inquired quickly.
"I can't account for it," he answered in a hoarse voice, gazing about
the darkened church, for the lights had been nearly all extinguished,
and the place was weird and eerie. Then, with his lips compressed for a
moment, he looked straight at me, saying in a strange, hard voice:
"Clifton, such a change as this could not be effected by any human
means. If this had happened in a Roman Catholic church, it would have
been declared to be a miracle."
"A miracle wrought by the Evil One!" I said.
And he bowed his head, his face ashen, his hands still trembling.
"I cannot help thinking," he said after a pause, "that this is a bad
augury for my ministry here. It is the first time I have, as vicar,
administered the Sacrament, and the after result is in plain evidence
before us--a result which absolutely staggers belief."
"Yes," I said pensively. "It is more than extraordinary. It is an
enigma beyond solution; an actual problem of the supernatural."
"That the chalice should be thus profaned and desecrated by an invisible
agency is a startling revelation indeed," he said. "A hellish influence
must be at work somewhere, unless," and he paused, "unless we have been
tricked by a mere magician's feat."
"But are not the ashes still hot?" I suggested. "See here!" and I took
up some of the fused metal. "Is not this silver? There seems no doubt
that the cup was actually consumed here in the spot where the verger
placed it, and that it was consumed by an uncommonly fierce fire."
Without responding, he stood gazing blankly upon the ashes. I saw that
his heart was torn by a thousand doubts and fears, and fell to wondering
whether he had ever had any cause to suspect the woman he feared of
possessing the power of destruction.
Again he glanced round the cavernous darkness of the silent church, and
a shudder went through him.
"Let's go, my dear fellow," he said, endeavouring to steady himself.
"I'm utterly unnerved to-night. Perhaps the efforts of my sermon have
been a little too much for me. The doctor told me to avoid all undue
excitement."
"Keep yourself quiet," I urged. "No doubt some explanation will be
forthcoming very soon," I added, endeavouring to reassure him.