That Hideous Strength

II

The Deputy Director hardly ever slept. When it became absolutely necessary for him to do so, he took a drug, but the necessity was rare, for the mode of consciousness he experienced at most hours of day or night had long ceased to be exactly like what other men call waking. He had learned to withdraw most of his consciousness from the task of living, to conduct business, even, with only a quarter of his mind. Colours, tastes, smells, and tactual sensations no doubt bombarded his physical senses in the normal manner: they did not now reach his ego. The manner and outward attitude to men which he had adopted half a century ago were now an organisation which functioned almost independently, like a gramophone, and to which he could hand over his whole routine of interviews and committees. While the brain and lips carried on this work, and built up day by day for those around him the vague and formidable personality which they knew so well, his inmost self was free to pursue its own life. That detachment of the spirit not only from the senses but even from the reason which has been the goal of some mystics was now his.

Hence he was still, in a sense, awake-that is, he was certainly not sleeping-an hour after Frost had left him to visit Mark in his cell. Anyone who had looked into the study during that hour would have seen him sitting motionless at his table, with bowed head and folded hands. But his eyes were not shut. The face had no expression; the real man was far away, suffering, enjoying, or inflicting whatever such souls do suffer, enjoy, or inflict when the cord that binds them to the natural order is stretched out to its utmost but not yet snapped. When the telephone rang at his elbow he took up the receiver without a start.

“Speaking,” he said.

“This is Stone, sir,” came a voice. “We have found the chamber.”

“Yes.”

“It was empty, sir.”

“Empty?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Are you sure, my dear Mr. Stone, that you have found the right place ? It is possible . . .”

“Oh yes, sir. It is a little kind of crypt. Stonework and some Roman brick. And a kind of slab in the middle, like an altar or a bed.”

“And am I to understand there was no one there? No sign of occupation?”

“Well, sir, it seemed to us to have been recently disturbed.”

“Pray be as explicit as possible, Mr. Stone.”

“Well, sir, there was an exit-I mean a tunnel, leading out of it to the south. We went up this tunnel at once. It comes out about eight hundred yards away, outside the area of the wood.”

“Comes out? Do you mean there is an arch-a gate-a tunnel mouth?”

“Well, that’s just the point. We got out to the open air all right. But obviously something had been smashed up there quite recently. It looked as if it had been done by explosives. As if the end of the tunnel had been walled up and had some depth of earth on top of it, and as if someone had recently blasted his way out. There was no end of a mess.”

“Continue, Mr. Stone. What did you do next?”

“I used the order you had given me, sir, to collect all the police available and have sent off search-parties for the man you described.”

“I see. And how did you describe him to them?”

“Just as you did, sir: an old man with either a very long beard or a beard very roughly trimmed, probably in a mantle, but certainly in some kind of unusual clothes. It occurred to me at the last moment to add that he might have no clothes at all.”

“Why did you add that, Mr. Stone?”

“Well, sir, I didn’t know how long he’d been there, and it isn’t my business. I’d heard things about clothes preserved in a place like that and all falling to pieces as soon as the air was admitted. I hope you won’t imagine for a moment that I’m trying to find out anything you don’t choose to tell me. But I just thought it would be as well to . . .”

“You were quite right, Mr. Stone,” said Wither, “in thinking that anything remotely resembling inquisitiveness on your part might have the most disastrous consequences. I mean, for yourself; for, of course, it is your interests I have chiefly had in view in my choice of methods. I assure you that you can rely on my support in the very-er-delicate position you have-no doubt unintentionally-chosen to occupy.”

“Thank you very much, sir. I am so glad you think I was right in saying he might be naked.”

“Oh, as to that,” said the Director, “there are a great many considerations which cannot be raised at the moment. And what did you instruct your search-parties to do on finding any such-er-person?”

“Well, that was another difficulty, sir. I sent my own assistant, Father Doyle, with one party, because he knows Latin. And I gave Inspector Wrench the ring you gave me and put him in charge of the second. The best I could do for the third party was to see that it contained someone who knew Welsh.”

“You did not think of accompanying a party yourself?”

“No, sir. You’d told me to ring up without fail the moment we found anything. And I didn’t want to delay the search-parties until I’d got you.”

“I see. Well, no doubt your action (speaking quite without prejudice) could be interpreted along those lines. You made it quite clear that this-ah-Personage-when found, was to be treated with the greatest deference and-if you won’t misunderstand me-caution?”

“Oh yes, sir.”

“Well, Mr. Stone, I am, on the whole, and with certain inevitable reservations, moderately satisfied with your conduct of this affair. I believe that I may be able to present it in a favourable light to those of my colleagues whose good will you have, unfortunately, not been able to retain. If you can bring it to a successful conclusion you would very much strengthen your position. If not . . . it is inexpressibly painful to me that there should be these tensions and mutual recriminations among us. But you quite understand me, my dear boy. If only I could persuade-say Miss Hardcastle and Mr. Studdock-to share my appreciation of your very real qualities, you would need to have no apprehensions about your career or-ah-your security.”

“But what do you want me to do, sir?”

“My dear young friend, the golden rule is very simple. There are only two errors which would be fatal to one placed in the peculiar situation which certain parts of your previous conduct have unfortunately created for you. On the one hand, anything like a lack of initiative or enterprise would be disastrous. On the other, the slightest approach to unauthorised action-anything which suggested that you were assuming a liberty of decision which, in all the circumstances, is not really yours-might have consequences from which even I could not protect you. But as long as you keep quite clear of these two extremes, there is no reason (speaking unofficially) why you should not be perfectly safe.”

Then, without waiting for Mr. Stone to reply, he hung up the receiver and rang his bell.