"I don't think they know themselves."
"You say ... you believe he still lives...."
"He must be alive. It dawned on me a little while ago ... a little
late, I'll admit. The locket he gave you. Did you ever try it?"
"Try it? Why ... no. I don't believe in magic, James."
"Not magic. Electronics. Years ago Bram talked to me about radio.
He wanted to teach me. Now I'm here looking for a transmitter. That
transmitter was busy last night. I think Bram was operating it."
There was a long silence.
"James," Miss Carroll said at last, "I don't understand."
"Neither do I, Miss Carroll. I'm still working on finding the pieces.
But let me ask you: that night that Bram brought you out to his place.
You say he ran to the kitchen and opened a trapdoor in the floor--"
"Did I say floor? That was an error: the panel was in the wall."
"I guess I jumped to the conclusion. Which wall?"
"He crossed the room. There was a table, with a candlestick. He went
around it and pressed his hand against the wall, beside the wood-box.
The panel slid aside. It was very dark within. He ducked his head,
because the opening was not large, and stepped inside...."
"That would be the east wall ... to the left of the back door?"
"Yes."
"Now, Miss Carroll, can you remember exactly what Bram said to you that
night? Something about fighting something, wasn't it?"
"I've tried for sixty years to put it out of my mind, James. But I
remember every word, I think." She was silent for a moment.
* * * * *
"I was beside him on the buggy seat. It was a warm evening, late in
spring. I had told him that I loved him, and ... he had responded. He
said that he would have spoken long before, but that he had not dared.
Now there was that which I must know.
"His life was not his own, he said. He was not ... native to this
world. He was an agent of a mighty power, and he had trailed a band
of criminals...." She broke off. "I could not truly understand that
part, James. I fear it was too incoherent. He raved of evil beings who
lurked in the shadows of a cave. It was his duty to wage each night an
unceasing battle with occult forces."
"What kind of battle? Were these ghosts, or demons, or what?"
"I don't know. Evil powers which would be unloosed on the world,
unless he met them at the portal as the darkness fell and opposed them."
"Why didn't he get help?"
"Only he could stand against them. I knew little of abnormal
psychology, but I understood the classic evidence of paranoia. I shrank
from him. He sat, leaning forward, his eyes intent. I wept and begged
him to take me back. He turned his face to me, and I saw the pain and
anguish in his eyes. I loved him ... and feared him. And he would not
turn back. Night was falling, and the enemy awaited him."
"Then, when you got to the house...?"
"He had whipped up the horses, and I remember how I clung to the top
braces, weeping. Then we were at the house. Without a word he jumped
down and ran to the door. I followed. He lit a lamp and turned to me.
From somewhere there was a wailing call, like an injured animal. He
shouted something--an unintelligible cry--and ran toward the back of
the house. I took up the lamp and followed. In the kitchen he went to
the wall, pressed against it. The panel opened. He looked at me. His
face was white.
"'In the name of the High God. Linda Carroll, I entreat you....'
"I screamed. And he hardened his face, and went down ... and I screamed
and screamed again...." Miss Carroll closed her eyes, drew a shuddering
breath.
"I'm sorry to have put you through this, Miss Carroll," Tremaine said.
"But I had to know."
Faintly in the distance a siren sounded. In the mirror, headlights
twinkled half a mile behind. Tremaine stepped on the gas. The powerful
car leaped ahead.
"Are you expecting trouble on the road, James?"
"The State police are unhappy with me, Miss Carroll. And I imagine
they're not too pleased with Jess. Now they're out for blood. But I
think I can outrun them."
"James." Miss Carroll said, sitting up and looking behind. "If those
are police officers, shouldn't you stop?"
"I can't, Miss Carroll. I don't have time for them now. If my idea
means anything, we've got to get there fast...."
* * * * *
Bram's house loomed gaunt and dark as the car whirled through the gate,
ground to a stop before the porch. Tremaine jumped out, went around the
car and helped Miss Carroll out. He was surprised at the firmness of
her step. For a moment, in the fading light of dusk, he glimpsed her
profile. _How beautiful she must have been...._
He reached into the glove compartment for a flashlight.
"We haven't got a second to waste," he said. "That other car's not more
than a minute behind us." He reached into the back of the car, hauled
out the heavy suitcase. "I hope you remember how Bram worked that
panel."
On the porch Tremaine's flashlight illuminated the broken hasp.
Inside, he led the way along a dark hall, pushed into the kitchen.
"It was there," Miss Carroll said, pointing. Outside, an engine sounded
on the highway, slowing, turning in. Headlights pushed a square of cold
light across the kitchen wall. Tremaine jumped to the spot Miss Carroll
had indicated, put the suitcase down, felt over the wall.
"Give me the light, James," Miss Carroll said calmly. "Press there."
She put the spot on the wall. Tremaine leaned against it. Nothing
happened. Outside, there was the thump of car doors; a muffled voice
barked orders.
"Are you sure...?"
"Yes. Try again, James."
Tremaine threw himself against the wall, slapped at it, searching for a
hidden latch.
"A bit higher; Bram was a tall man. The panel opened below...."