Chapter 4. THE VOICE
It was by this time past three o’clock. Feeling hungry, for they hadeaten nothing since early morning, Maskull went downstairs to forage,but without much hope of finding anything in the shape of food. In asafe in the kitchen he discovered a bag of mouldy oatmeal, which wasuntouchable, a quantity of quite good tea in an airtight caddy, and anunopened can of ox tongue. Best of all, in the dining-room cupboard hecame across an uncorked bottle of first-class Scotch whisky. He at oncemade preparations for a scratch meal.
A pump in the yard ran clear after a good deal of hard working at it,and he washed out and filled the antique kettle. For firewood, one ofthe kitchen chairs was broken up with a chopper. The light, dusty woodmade a good blaze in the grate, the kettle was boiled, and cups wereprocured and washed. Ten minutes later the friends were dining in thelibrary.
Nightspore ate and drank little, but Maskull sat down with goodappetite. There being no milk, whisky took the place of it; the nearlyblack tea was mixed with an equal quantity of the spirit. Of thisconcoction Maskull drank cup after cup, and long after the tongue haddisappeared he was still imbibing.
Nightspore looked at him queerly. “Do you intend to finish the bottlebefore Krag comes?”
“Krag won’t want any, and one must do something. I feel restless.”
“Let us take a look at the country.”
The cup, which was on its way to Maskull’s lips, remained poised in theair. “Have you anything in view, Nightspore?”
“Let us walk out to the Gap of Sorgie.”
“What’s that?”
“A showplace,” answered Nightspore, biting his lip.
Maskull finished off the cup, and rose to his feet. “Walking is betterthan soaking at any time, and especially on a day like this.... How faris it?”
“Three or four miles each way.”
“You probably mean something,” said Maskull, “for I’m beginning toregard you as a second Krag. But if so, so much the better. I am growingnervous, and need incidents.”
They left the house by the door, which they left ajar, and immediatelyfound themselves again on the moorland road that had brought them fromHaillar. This time they continued along it, past the tower.
Maskull, as they went by, regarded the erection with puzzled interest.“What is that tower, Nightspore?”
“We sail from the platform on the top.”
“Tonight?”—throwing him a quick look.
“Yes.”
Maskull smiled, but his eyes were grave. “Then we are looking at thegateway of Arcturus, and Krag is now travelling north to unlock it.”
“You no longer think it impossible, I fancy,” mumbled Nightspore.
After a mile or two, the road parted from the sea coast and swervedsharply inland, across the hills. With Nightspore as guide, they left itand took to the grass. A faint sheep path marked the way along the cliffedge for some distance, but at the end of another mile it vanished. Thetwo men then had some rough walking up and down hillsides and acrossdeep gullies. The sun disappeared behind the hills, and twilightimperceptibly came on. They soon reached a spot where further progressappeared impossible. The buttress of a mountain descended at a steepangle to the very edge of the cliff, forming an impassable slope ofslippery grass. Maskull halted, stroked his beard, and wondered what thenext step was to be.
“There’s a little scrambling here,” said Nightspore. “We are both usedto climbing, and there is not much in it.”
He indicated a narrow ledge, winding along the face of the precipice afew yards beneath where they were standing. It averaged from fifteen tothirty inches in width. Without waiting for Maskull’s consent to theundertaking, he instantly swung himself down and started walking alongthis ledge at a rapid pace. Maskull, seeing that there was no help forit, followed him. The shelf did not extend for above a quarter of amile, but its passage was somewhat unnerving; there was a sheer drop tothe sea, four hundred feet below. In a few places they had to sidlealong without placing one foot before another. The sound of the breakerscame up to them in a low, threatening roar.
Upon rounding a corner, the ledge broadened out into a fair-sizedplatform of rock and came to a sudden end. A narrow inlet of the seaseparated them from the continuation of the cliffs beyond.
“As we can’t get any further,” said Maskull, “I presume this is your Gapof Sorgie?”
“Yes,” answered his friend, first dropping on his knees and then lyingat full length, face downward. He drew his head and shoulders over theedge and began to stare straight down at the water.
“What is there interesting down there, Nightspore?”
Receiving no reply, however, he followed his friend’s example, and thenext minute was looking for himself. Nothing was to be seen; the gloomhad deepened, and the sea was nearly invisible. But, while he wasineffectually gazing, he heard what sounded like the beating of a drumon the narrow strip of shore below. It was very faint, but quitedistinct. The beats were in four-four time, with the third beat slightlyaccented. He now continued to hear the noise all the time he was lyingthere. The beats were in no way drowned by the far louder sound of thesurf, but seemed somehow to belong to a different world....
When they were on their feet again, he questioned Nightspore. “We camehere solely to hear that?”
Nightspore cast one of his odd looks at him. “It’s called locally ‘TheDrum Taps of Sorgie.’ You will not hear that name again, but perhaps youwill hear the sound again.”
“And if I do, what will it imply?” demanded Maskull in amazement.
“It bears its own message. Only try always to hear it more and moredistinctly.... Now it’s growing dark, and we must get back.”
Maskull pulled out his watch automatically, and looked at the time. Itwas past six.... But he was thinking of Nightspore’s words, and not ofthe time.
*****
Night had already fallen by the time they regained the tower. The blacksky was glorious with liquid stars. Arcturus was a little way above thesea, directly opposite them, in the east. As they were passing the baseof the tower, Maskull observed with a sudden shock that the gate wasopen. He caught hold of Nightspore’s arm violently. “Look! Krag isback.”
“Yes, we must make haste to the house.”
“And why not the tower? He’s probably in there, since the gate is open.I’m going up to look.”
Nightspore grunted, but made no opposition.
All was pitch-black inside the gate. Maskull struck a match, and theflickering light disclosed the lower end of a circular flight of stonesteps. “Are you coming up?” he asked.
“No, I’ll wait here.”
Maskull immediately began the ascent. Hardly had he mounted half a dozensteps, however, before he was compelled to pause, to gain breath. Heseemed to be carrying upstairs not one Maskull, but three. As heproceeded, the sensation of crushing weight, so far from diminishing,grew worse and worse. It was nearly physically impossible to go on; hislungs could not take in enough oxygen, while his heart thumped like aship’s engine. Sweat coursed down his face. At the twentieth step hecompleted the first revolution of the tower and came face to face withthe first window, which was set in a high embrasure.
Realising that he could go no higher, he struck another match, andclimbed into the embrasure, in order that he might at all events seesomething from the tower. The flame died, and he stared through thewindow at the stars. Then, to his astonishment, he discovered that itwas not a window at all but a lens.... The sky was not a wide expanse ofspace containing a multitude of stars, but a blurred darkness, focusedonly in one part, where two very bright stars, like small moons in size,appeared in close conjunction; and near them a more minute planetaryobject, as brilliant as Venus and with an observable disk. One of thesuns shone with a glaring white light; the other was a weird and awfulblue. Their light, though almost solar in intensity, did not illuminatethe interior of the tower.
Maskull knew at once that the system of spheres at which he was gazingwa
s what is known to astronomy as the star Arcturus.... He had seen thesight before, through Krag’s glass, but then the scale had been smaller,the colors of the twin suns had not appeared in their naked reality....These colors seemed to him most marvellous, as if, in seeing themthrough earth eyes, he was not seeing them correctly.... But it was atTormance that he stared the longest and the most earnestly. On thatmysterious and terrible earth, countless millions of miles distant, ithad been promised him that he would set foot, even though he might leavehis bones there. The strange creatures that he was to behold and touchwere already living, at this very moment.
A low, sighing whisper sounded in his ear, from not more than a yardaway. “Don’t you understand, Maskull, that you are only an instrument,to be used and then broken? Nightspore is asleep now, but when he wakesyou must die. You will go, but he will return.”
Maskull hastily struck another match, with trembling fingers. No one wasin sight, and all was quiet as the tomb.
The voice did not sound again. After waiting a few minutes, heredescended to the foot of the tower. On gaining the open air, hissensation of weight was instantly removed, but he continued panting andpalpitating, like a man who has lifted a far too heavy load.
Nightspore’s dark form came forward. “Was Krag there?”
“If he was, I didn’t see him. But I heard someone speak.”
“Was it Krag?”
“It was not Krag—but a voice warned me against you.”
“Yes, you will hear these voices too,” said Nightspore enigmatically.