After spending a night at the Corbitt house, I immediately drove over to my parent's mansion where Augustine was residing. Letting myself in with the master key, I proceeded over to the garden at the back where I found him placing some freshly cut roses into a vase.
"Augustine, I need to talk to you."
"I was wondering when you would finally show up, I have some leads in which could help you in your investigation of the Corbitt house."
"How did you know I was going to ask you about that?" I inquired.
Augustine grinned as he placed the last of the white roses into the vase. "A number of things. First of all, I had read in the newspapers about the family that was driven out of that place. Secondly, your girlfriend has been placing calls here in the past few days asking whether I had seen you and thirdly, she mentioned to me about your meeting with a certain Mr. Valdemar, who is apparently the current owner of that property."
"I see. I'll have to talk to her about keeping her mouth shut."
"You shouldn't worry Marlowe. Come, let us proceed into the study for a cup of tea so that we may think things through."
Augustine had apparently hired a servant. I couldn't quite get his name but he was a Chinese immigrant who spoke very little. His servant ushered us into the study where he had placed some breakfast. Having not eaten for a while I wolfed down everything that was on my plate and ordered a second helping as Augustine sat on a plush leather chair, deep in thought.
"Any ideas Augustine?" I asked as I sipped my fourth cup of coffee.
"Oh, I am quite sorry Marlowe, I was actually thinking as to what part of this room should I place the roses."
"Roses? What's with you and these flowers anyway? I thought you were a priest, not a gardener."
"I enjoy planting roses, it gives me a sense of peace and tranquility as well as being a symbol of my profession. In my line of work, one always needs beauty."
"A symbol? How?"
"A rose has a double meaning. In Greek mythology, the god of love once offered a rose to the god of silence, as a bribe, to keep that god from disclosing the weaknesses of the rest of the pantheon. In time, the rose became a symbol for silence and confidentiality. During the Medieval period, a rose was customarily suspended from the ceiling of a council chamber. The participants pledged themselves never to reveal what was discussed at the meeting, sub rosa-under the rose."
"So this means that this war you fight, against these Old Ones, must be in secret?"
"Precisely. Only by not revealing the whole truth can mankind survive."
"Symbols. Okay, fine. Can we get back to the task at hand?"
Augustine's eyes were closed as if he was deep in thought. "The Roman Emperor Marcus Aurelius had always counseled simplicity. First principles. Of each particular thing, ask: What is it in itself, in its own constitution? What is its causal nature?"
"I don't get it."
"In order to understand something, one must look at it from all angles, different perspectives. And most importantly, a direct solution is one that is staring at you in the face, yet because of man's penchant to make things complicated, the answer to the problem often eludes him. What does Valdemar want from you?"
"He wants me to prove that the house isn't haunted so that he can either sell it at a profit or put some tenants in it."
At length, I explained what had happened the night before.
"The family, tell me about them."
"The Macarios? An immigrant family from Portugal. They moved into the house two years before the incident. Then weird things started to happen, the father had a serious accident and shortly thereafter went insane. He was committed. Within the last few months, the mother also went insane. Both babbled of a horrible spirit with burning eyes. Neither one of them would go into one of the upstairs bedrooms."
Augustine pursed his lips. "Two years. How old is the house?"
"I don't know."
"We will need to gather all the facts before we could proceed Marlowe. We need to interview the Macarios, both the parents as well as the children; they can give us first-hand accounts as to the events that had happened in the house. But most importantly, we need to delve into the history of that place, I have a feeling that we will find the answers to this enigma there."
"Well, I could find out from my friends in the police force where the kids are; we already know where to find the parents, in the loony bin- Arkham Asylum."
"Then we shall proceed there first, I had already placed an appointment with the Head Psychiatrist there at 11 this morning. Since I don't have a car nor could I operate one, I will have to ride with you."
As he got up, my mouth was hanging open in astonishment.
Arkham Asylum was formerly a country estate of the old world aristocracy; in the early part of the Twentieth Century it was converted into an asylum to house the psychologically insane for the county. It took us only a few minutes driving from the heart of Arkham into the sprawling grounds of the asylum. From talking to Augustine, I had learned that he knew the Head Psychiatrist Dr. Derleth quite well, in his spare time Augustine would actually conduct interviews with several of the patients here; those that babbled on about forgotten gods and monsters.
After a brief chat with Dr. Derleth in his office, we split up; Augustine would handle the delicate task of interviewing the husband Vito, while I was left to the task of speaking to the more approachable wife Gabriela.
Gabriela only agreed to talk to me not in her room, but rather on one of the picnic tables in the patio of the hospital grounds. Dried leaves rustled in the wind as I sat down on a wooden bench opposite her. Mrs. Macario had worn her best dress today, it seemed like it was one of the few chances that she had in conversing with anyone who was not a member of the hospital staff. With her lipstick stained teeth, and hair that was not professionally made up, she looked pitiful.
"I will answer only a few questions sir." Her raspy voice seemed quite upset when I told her I wanted to talk about the Corbitt house.
"I understand Mrs. Macario. Anything you can tell me can greatly help my task in getting to the bottom of this mystery."
Her eyes were downcast. "There is no mystery sir. The house is evil."
"What do you mean? Can you explain further Ma'am?"
"There is something in there. I don't want to think of it because it frightens me." She pulled out an old handkerchief from her purse and wiped the tears from her foundation caked cheeks.
"Mrs. Macario, I know this is hard but you must." I pleaded.
"At night, I would wake up and find it leaning over at me, as if it was looking at an insect. When it got angry, it would throw our plates across the room. But it really hated Vito and it always concentrated on him, I don't know why."
"So it was a spirit then? Do you know what it looked like?"
She looked at me, her face grimacing. "It was a spirit, but that of a man, a dark man… With burning eyes of evil."