"Ezra, come and sit down." "Nothing's going to happen on a night like this." "Oh, drink up, man." "No." "That's what he wants." "Can you not see that?" "But the storm-- damn the storm." "Come on, Micah." "Come on and have a drink with us." "Micah!" "Look!" "Fetch our hats." "Tell the others to wait." "Quick, man!" "Come on." "Do you believe me now, Micah Smith?" "Now that you've seen with your own eyes, do you believe me when I tell you that's the home of Satan himself?" "Aye, aye." "Then come." "Somebody get hay!" "Make sure it's dry!" "And bring some oil!" "Come on, let's go!" "Yeah!" "Kill the warlock!" "Open this door!" "Open this door!" "Curwen!" "Curwen!" "Well?" "Where is she?" "Who?" "You know who." "The Fitch girl." "Do you deny she's here?" "Certainly not." "She visits us frequently." "Don't you, miss Fitch?" "Don't you?" "Yes." "Of your own free will?" "Yes." "There now, Mr. Weeden-- just a moment." "What's your name, girl?" "Really, this is outrageous!" "Quiet!" "Your name, child." "You see?" "He's taken her mind, her soul." "The good lord knows what else--just like the others." "Well, what do we do about it?" "Let him go on with his black magic or send him back to the hell he came from?" "Send him back!" "Then let's be about it." "No, not the woman." "Leave her be." "She's been hexed." "It'll be right with us again when he's gone, Hester." "You'll see!" "Hester!" "Send him back to Hades!" "Burn him!" "Back where he comes from!" "Burn him!" "Burn him!" "Have you anything to say, warlock?" "Only this... as surely as the village of Arkham has risen up against me, so shall I rise from the dead... against the village of Arkham." "Each one of you!" "Ezra Weeden, Micah Smith," "Benjamin West," "Priam willet," "Gideon Leach, all of you and your children and your children's children shall have just cause to regret the actions of this night." "For from this night onward, you shall bear my curse." "Burn the devil." "Burn him!" "Hester!" ""And travelers, now, within that valley," ""through the red-litten windows see" ""vast forms, that move fantastically to a discordant melody."" "Whoa, horse." "There you are, ma'am." "Careful!" "Oh, thank you, Mr. Carmody." "It was a most enjoyable trip." "Aye." "Thank you." "It isn't often I get passengers for Arkham." "Begging you pardon, sir, did you say you were going to be staying here long?" "Why do you ask?" "Well, Arkham is an evil place." "The village is cursed." "Mr. Carmody, don't tell us you're superstitious." "Not at all." "And I'm not a coward, either, but you couldn't pay me to spend a night in this place." "Why not, Mr. Carmody?" "Ghosts?" "Spirits?" "Well...perhaps." "I'm sorry, sir, but we don't happen to believe in the supernatural." "And I don't think you do, either." "Good-bye." "Good-bye, sir." "Good-bye." "And good luck." "Well, it looks cursed." "I'll give it that." "Where are the people?" "I can't imagine." "Look." "The "burning man."" "Isn't that quaint?" "Yes, very quaint." "Well, it is." "Now, where else would you find a tavern with a name like that?" "We were trying to find a certain house here in town, and we thought perhaps you could help us." "Whose house is it?" "Ours." "I know that sounds silly." "It belonged to the Curwen family." "We inherited it." "Curwen, you say?" "Yes, that's right." "I don't know of any such house." "Well, all right." "Thank you anyway." "Just a minute." "Why do you want to know about the Curwen place?" "Because it belongs to us." "Your name is Curwen?" "No, our name is Ward." "Then...?" "Joseph Curwen was my great-great-grandfather." "So, can you tell us where the house is?" "I can, but I won't." "That's what I like about you New Englanders-- you're so friendly." "Come, Ann, we'll find it oursel" "Mr. Ward!" "Don't go there." "It isn't a house." "It's a madman's palace as old as sin." "Palace?" "In America?" "Brought over stone by stone." "Brought over from where?" "Europe somewhere." "No one knows." "No one wants to know." "But if you value your lives, don't go there." "Why not?" "What Edgar-- Mr. Weeden means is that place is a ruin." "It hasn't been occupied in over 100 years." "Is that what you mean, Mr. Weeden?" "What a strange man." "Yes." "He has had a bit, but what he says is right." "Mr. Ward, Mrs. Ward, please... do yourself a kindness." "Go back to wherever you came from and forget you ever heard about Arkham." "And what do you recommend I do with the deed?" "Just tear it up?" "Yes." "Just tear up the deed to a palace I've inherited and forget all about it, without so much as laying eyes on the property." "Is that your advice?" "It's more than advice, Mr. Ward." "Oh, come on, Ann." "Mr. Ward... take the road out of town about a quarter of a mile." "At the post road, turn left past the cemetery." "You shouldn't have too much difficulty finding it." "Here, I'll show you." "There's the Curwen palace over there on the cliff." "Well, we certainly want to thank you for being so nice, Mr..." "Willet." "I'm a doctor." "My office is down the street, in case you need me." "I don't think we'll be staying very long, doctor." "Oh, you've decided that already?" "It seems to have been decided for us." "Thank you, anyway." "Come, Ann." "Thank you." "What do you think?" "It's him, right enough-- the devil himself." "Nonsense." "And you helped him." "As I'd help any stranger." "He's no stranger, Dr. willet, and you know it." "I don't know anything of the kind, and neither do you." "Are you blind?" "Or do you tell me you've never seen that face before?" "Well, I'll admit there's a strong resemblance, but that's a matter of heredity, not magic." "Call it what you will." "One thing is certain..." "Joseph Curwen has come back to Arkham." "Why did you say that?" "What?" "That we wouldn't be staying long." "Well, do you want to stay in a town full of fools like that?" "I don't think Dr. willet was a fool." "All right, so Dr. willet wasn't a fool," "Charles... the poor thing." "Yes." "Well, let's get this over with." "Charles, it's you!" "It's absolutely fantastic!" "Dear, is something wrong?" "Hmm?" "Oh, no." "No." "Let's see what the rest of this mausoleum looks like." "Kitchen's over there." "Wait." "Hmm?" "That doesn't lead anywhere." "This way." "How would you know that?" "Oh, just a guess." "I'll let some light in here." "Good evening." "Who are you?" "My name is Simon." "What are you doing here?" "I'm the caretaker." "I was preparing your room." "In the dark?" "One becomes accustomed to the darkness here." "I'm sorry, Mrs. Ward, if I startled you, but I didn't know you'd be here so soon." "Well, just a minute." "How is it you expected us at all?" "Why, your attorney, Mr. Hutchinson, contacted me." "Since then, I've been preparing the palace for your arrival." "Now, if you'll excuse me, I'll go fetch your bags." "No!" "No, that won't be necessary." "We're not staying." "But where would you spend the night?" "After all, Mr. Ward, this is your home." "Get the bags." "Very well." "Dinner will be served at 8:00, if that's convenient." "Thank you." "Charles, you don't really want to spend the night here?" "No, no, of course not, but... but the old fellow was right." "We have to spend the night someplace." "Don't we?" "Quiet!" "Quiet I say!" "Is it food you want?" "What's wrong with him tonight?" "Not him, woman, it!" "It!" "How many times must I tell you?" "It knows." "That's what's wrong." "It knows who's come back to Arkham." "Charles, I'm all packed." "Charles, you ready?" "I have decided to stay." "What?" "Just long enough to fix the place up." "With a little work, it could bring a good price." "Don't you think?" "I should imagine." "I don't know." "I estimate two weeks, perhaps three, to get things started, anyway." "Do you mind, Ann?" "No, not exactly." "I can't say it pleases me." "Well, then you go home." "Charles?" "I'm sorry, Ann." "It's just that I..." "well, I..." "I can't leave now until I..." "Find out..." "some things." "Nightmarish, yes, but not a nightmare." "They're quite real, I'm sorry to say." "But what are they, doctor?" "Human beings." "Very unfortunate human beings." "They were born mutated." "You see, Mrs. Ward, it requires an extraordinary combination of elements to form a normal person." "In their case, the combination was wrong." "They were gathered by Weeden, of course, for the purpose of frightening you away." "But why, doctor?" "Why should we be treated as though we have the plague?" "Because you do." "To these people, at any rate." "Understand, Mr. Ward, Arkham is a strange community." "You see, it's haunted." "Not by ghosts, but haunted nonetheless." "By fear, by guilt, and by the memory of a particular night." "Particular night?" "But what has this to do with us?" "Well, you see, 150 years ago, a man named Joseph Curwen moved to this village and built this palace." "His first wife died in childbirth, so he selected the most beautiful woman in the village and took her for his mistress." "Unfortunately, she was engaged to marry an Arkhamite named Ezra Weeden." "Uh, no, thank you." "You spoke with his descendent yesterday." "Oh, the man at the inn." "Yes." "Well, according to legend, a number of strange things occurred when Curwen moved into the village." "Terrible noises were heard in the night." "Thank you." "Young girls were said to have disappeared from their homes..." "To be gone until dawn, and then reappear with no memory of their whereabouts." "Weeden wasted no time in placing the blame directly on this doorstep." "He and his coterie of friends claimed that Curwen was a warlock." "Warlock?" "Yes." "One who conjures up the dead." "They demanded punishment." "And one night, the people of the village marched on the palace, dragged your ancestor into the yard, and burned him." "Burned him?" "The "burning man."" "Well, that explains the guilt." "What about the fear?" "Curwen put a curse on the village." "He vowed that he'd return." "You can see the resemblance yourself." "Dr. willet, I'm sure that every warlock or witch who died in America left a curse." "Why should Curwen's be taken so seriously?" "Why should it be remembered after all these years?" "I can't say." "He was a strange man." "There were terrible rumors about him." "Such as?" "It was thought, Mr. Ward, that he had gained possession of a book called the necronomicon." "Have you heard of it?" "No." "Well, it obviously never existed, except in the minds of the superstitious." "But they claimed it held enough secrets to give a man absolute power." "Of course, every mythology has such a book, but the necronomicon supposedly contained formulas through which one could communicate with or even summon the elder gods... the dark ones from beyond who had once ruled the world and now are merely waiting for an opportunity to regain that control." "Cthulhu, yog-sothoth." "Dreadful rubbish, I know." "Still, the people of Arkham believed it." "They claimed that Joseph Curwen and two other warlocks were trying to open the gates to these dark gods." "Open the gates?" "How?" "They claimed that Joseph Curwen was trying to mate those beings with humans to create a new race through which the gods could regain their control." "That's how they explained the mutated births-- unsuccessful experiments passed on from generation to generation, carried in the blood." "What's your explanation, doctor?" "I don't have one." "I advise you, Mr. Ward, to leave this village." "I advise you to flee it as you would from a madman with a knife who feels compelled to destroy you before you can destroy him." "It's a cold night, sir." "You'll need your coat." "Thank you." "You seem troubled, sir." "Is something wrong?" "You didn't hear them?" "Beg your pardon?" "The voices... people." "Well, no, sir." "Must have been the wind." "Perhaps you should ask Mr. Curwen." "Curwen?" "Yes." "Maybe he could tell you." "Welcome, Joseph." "Simon?" "How long?" "110 years." "110 years?" "And whose body is this I'm now occupying?" "His name is Charles Dexter Ward." "My great-great-grandson." "Perfect." "All the others were useless." "You would not accept them." "No matter." "Where's Jabez?" "Here, Joseph." "Jabez, my old friend." "Well, we three... together again." "But briefly, I fear." "I shan't be able to hold him much longer." "He...he fights me." "When will you have full control?" "Soon, Simon, soon." "Keep him here for a while longer, and he will be all mine." "He has my blood." "I can feel it." "Ah...the book." "The book!" "Good." "Good." "Now leave me, my friends." "He fights me." "He fights to leave me." "What is it, Charles?" "What's the matter?" "Dear, what are you doing down here?" "I don't know, Ann." "I must have walked in my sleep." "Please, dear, let's leave here now, tonight." "I want to, Ann, but..." "I can't." "Why not?" "Charles, why not?" "Over a whole week he's been there, and what's he been doing?" "That's what I want to know." "What's he been doing?" "Getting ready, that's what." "And meanwhile, we sit here like sheep." "Willet, I thought you said he'd be gone." "I thought he would be, but you made him feel so welcome, he's probably decided to stay for good." "Go on, sneer." "You can afford to." "You have no halfwitted thing locked in your attic and no woman to worry about, either." "Weeden, I've got this whole town to worry about." "The man you fear is dead!" "Can't you fools get that through your heads?" "He died over 100 years ago." "He can't harm you or your women." "Well, don't you forget, doctor, that the man who died over 100 years ago..." "He did this!" "And now...he's back with us again." "He'll...he'll be doing more." "Unless we stop him." "Charles?" "Charles, where have you been?" "Out walking." "At this time of night?" "Yes, at this time of night!" "Must I report my movements to you like a schoolboy?" "No, of course not-- then mind your own business." "Charles, what's happened to you?" "Nothing whatsoever." "No, you've changed." "I've never seen you like this." "Charles, if you won't go back to Boston, at least let me call Dr. willet." "No." "I shall be calling on Dr. willet personally within the week." "Well, now, are you satisfied?" "Yes-- well, then go back to bed!" "What will you be doing?" "That is not your concern." "Good night." "Good night, Charles." "Ann." "Charles Dexter Ward." "Leave me alone." "Leave me alone!" "I will never leave you alone." "Your blood is my blood, your mind is my mind, your body, my body." "It will do you no good to resist me." "Your efforts grow weaker every day." "No." "No!" "You cannot keep me out, Ward." "My will is too strong." "Too strong for you, Ward." "Too strong for you." "Why are you spying on me?" "I heard voices." "Tomorrow you must leave." "Now, is that understood?" "Yes, Charles." "Now go to your bed." "You lost him?" "For a time." "He has a strong will, stronger than we thought." "But you did well." "He has the curwen strain." "Hester." "Charles?" "Charles, where are you?" "Charles?" "Charles?" "Charles?" "Charles, is that you?" "Mrs. Ward," "I heard sounds." "Thought we had prowlers." "Vivat." "Vivat." "Vivat!" "It was his wife." "Where is she now?" "In her room." "Did you lock it?" "Yes." "Stupid woman." "She doesn't know what it is to love." "Charles!" "Joseph, it has been too long." "No." "No, we will continue trying." "Yes, Joseph, as you say." "We'll continue trying." "Simon." "Simon, help me upstairs quickly." "Oh, yes." "Quickly, quickly, quickly." "Charles!" "Charles, I've been so afraid." "Oh, Ann..." "Ann..." "What is it?" "What's happened?" "Tell me." "I don't know." "It's this house." "I think I must be going out of my mind." "Ann, where have I been tonight?" "Don't you remember?" "No." "I'm so confused." "Ann, we've got to get out of here before it's too late." "Yes, dear." "Tomorrow morning." "Tomorrow morning." "Yes, we will." "Mr. Ward?" "Yes?" "Leaving so soon?" "That's right." "Any objections?" "Why, certainly not, sir, but I... well..." "Well, you see I can make no plans until I know what you want to do with the palace." "We're selling it." "Oh, I see." "Well, sir, could you issue a check for the week's expenses?" "All right." "How much?" "I'll get the receipts." "No, that won't be necessary." "How much?" "We're in a hurry." "It'll only take a moment, sir." "You go out to the coach." "I'll..." "I'll join you in a minute." "Mrs. Ward." "Oh, doctor." "You almost missed us." "We were just leaving." "Very wise decision, particularly under the circumstances." "What do you mean?" "Did something happen?" "I'm afraid so." "In fact, I was on my way to warn you, but it doesn't matter now." "Doctor, please, I'd like to know." "There was a rather ugly occurrence last night." "In Arkham?" "In the cemetery." "A grave was dug up and a body stolen." "Nobody knows who did it, but the people, as you might well imagine, are blaming it on your husband." "Why?" "The grave that was opened was that of Hester Tillinghast," "Joseph Curwen's mistress." "And...they think Charles..." "Oh, what's wrong with those people?" "They're stupid to the marrow of their bones." "You know who robbed that grave, don't you, doctor?" "No." "They did." "They?" "Weeden and his dirty little friends." "Why would they do that?" "Why?" "Well, isn't it obvious?" "To frighten me." "To drive me away from my home." "It's a possibility... but you don't think I did it, do you, doctor?" "No, but it's a good thing you're leaving, all the same." "But I'm not leaving." "Charles, you promised." "You can go back to that village, doctor." "You can go back and tell those people that Charles Dexter Ward has decided to stay." "Charles." "How long has he been like this?" "It...it started the first night... just for a little while, and then he was himself again." "But it kept happening." "What kept happening?" "This...this change." "I'm so afraid." "I've never seen him like this." "Mrs. Ward, I want you to tell me exactly what has happened since your arrival in Arkham." "I have him now." "Are you sure?" "Charles Dexter Ward is dead." "Then we can begin our work." "Not quite yet." "There are a few little things I must do first." "Oh, Joseph, can't you forget what happened?" "Forget?" "Forget that my flesh was burned from my bones while I was yet alive?" "No." "No, this village will pay for its crime, just as I vowed." "But the work." "The work?" "There can be no work without my knowledge." "We've waited 110 years." "We can wait a bit longer." "I'm not an alienist, Mrs. Ward, but there can be little doubt as to what's happening." "Your husband is reacting to the legend of his ancestor." "The attitude of the village, the remarkable resemblance between him and the figure in the portrait, the atmosphere of the castle are all working together to cause this aberration." "Then I--I've got to find a way to help him." "You're not going back in there?" "Yes." "What else can I do?" "Leave him?" "I would advise it." "But, then, of course, you can't." "No." "Promise me one thing, Mrs. Ward-- that you'll contact me if things get out of hand." "Yes, I will, doctor." "Thank you." "Why have you returned?" "Because you need me." "Perhaps you're right." "Come here where I can see you." "Do you love me?" "Yes." "Then kiss me." "Why do you hesitate?" "Surely a husband has certain rights." "I demand that you kiss me!" "Oh, what delights we'll share, we two!" "What tender, intimate delights!" "Maybe it was a leprechaun." "It's nothing to laugh at, Bruno." "I say, who but the devil would do such a thing?" "Well, he couldn't have lifted it alone." "Sure not, but remember the two that worked with him." "They was never caught." "Aye, or maybe it was Dr. willet gave 'em a hand." "Naw." "Willet's a fool, all right, but he's one of us." "Remember--it was his great-great grandfather who helped with the burning." "And yours that held the torch." "And it was yours that did the burning, and don't be forgetting that!" "Forget it?" "I'm proud of it!" "In fact, I've been thinking along the same lines myself." "I'll be no part of murdering'!" "Who said murdering?" "Me?" "Did I say murdering?" "Well, what are you talking about?" "Self-protection." "That's what I'm talking about!" "A man threatens your life and you have the means to stop him, what do you do?" "He's done no threatening." "Not yet, but he will!" "First this unholy business at the cemetery." "Next, our women will start wandering out late at night, eyes all glassy, bellies filled with God knows what." "Then you'll see!" "I say this to you, all of you." "If we do nothing but sit around and talk about it, then we deserve whatever we get!" "Now, good night to you!" "Get away!" "Get away, you damned thing!" "Get away!" "The lord giveth, and the lord taketh away." "Blessed be the name of the lord." "In this veil of tears... we suffer much and sin mightily." "Yet we take solace in the promise of thy eternal forgiveness." "Amen." "Amen." "Amen." "Oh!" "Ah!" "Joseph, have you not gorged yourself enough on revenge?" "You do not know the extent of my appetite, Simon." "I will not have my fill of revenge until this village is a graveyard... until they have felt, as I did, the kiss of fire on their soft, bare flesh." "All of them." "Have patience, my friends." "Surely after all these years," "I'm entitled to a few...small amusements." "What do you want?" "What do I want?" "Merely to exercise my husbandly prerogative." "Is there anything so strange about that?" "Charles, please-- please?" "Please what, my dear?" "Oh, I know." "You're upset because I've neglected you." "That's it, isn't it?" "Well, I've been very busy, but I'm back now." "Charles!" "No!" "We have the whole night before us!" "Stop it!" "No!" "No!" "Stop!" "No!" "No!" "You fool!" "You stupid, weak little fool!" "Hester." "Hester!" "It is useless." "No..." "I will try again!" "Oh, doctor!" "Thank God you've come!" "Why?" "What's happened?" "I don't know." "I don't know." "Something terrible!" "Well, where is he?" "I-- look, Mrs. Ward, you must calm yourself." "Then you must tell me everything, sparing no detail." "Your life and your husband's may depend upon it." "Yes, doctor." "Well, we were up in the bedroom a short time ago." "And then, all of a sudden, he..." "Doctor, you've got to help me get him out of here!" "This place is killing him!" "Joseph Curwen-- he's killing him!" "Look at him." "That filthy, horrible old man!" "I hate him!" "I hate him!" "I hate him!" "I hate him!" "I hate him!" "Mrs. Ward!" "I'm sorry, doctor." "It was a stupid thing to do." "Yes, it was." "How are you, doctor?" "Excellent, thank you." "Glad to hear it." "Well, this is a pleasant surprise." "What brings you here?" "Nothing in particular." "Oh, just looking in, eh?" "That's right." "Do you mind?" "Mind?" "No." "On the contrary." "I'm delighted, and so is my wife." "Aren't you, my dear?" "Here." "A little glass of wine will make you feel better." "I don't want any." "The doctor and I are going to have a little chat, so you will just stay here and rest, eh?" "There you are." "Come, doctor." "She sent for you, of course." "No, as I was-- there's no need to lie, doctor." "In a way, I'm glad." "I've been terribly upset about her." "This house has a strange effect on her." "How do you mean?" "Well, you saw how she acted a moment ago." "That sort of thing." "Fits of depression, anger, hallucinations." "I hoped it would pass, but she gets worse every day." "I see." "I suppose she told you how-- how I've begun to change?" "Yes." "Mm-hmm, part of the pattern." "I scarcely recognize her anymore, doctor." "My own wife." "What do you want me to do?" "Take her back to Boston." "Get her out of this house." "Why don't you?" "She wouldn't permit it." "She fears me." "Can't you understand?" "Yes, I think I can." "Then you will help?" "I shall try." "Thank you." "I appreciate it." "But remember-- discretion." "She mustn't guess that you know the truth." "Well, my dear, I have a surprise for you." "You won't have to stay in this place any longer." "The good doctor is going to take care of you." "Dr. Willet!" "Yes, it's all arranged." "He will see you to Boston." "Isn't that right?" "Yes." "Doctor, you don't understand!" "Come along, Mrs. Ward." "No!" "I won't go!" "Please, Mrs. Ward." "All right." "You needn't bother to pack, my dear." "I'll send your things along." "Goodbye, doctor." "Goodbye, my dear." "We'll be together again soon." "I promise." "What of his woman?" "We're rid of her." "Did you-- no, it was not necessary." "I convinced the good Dr. Willet that she had begun to lose her mind, to imagine strange things, even that her own husband had turned against her." "They'll lock her away." "But if Dr. Willet should return?" "He will learn that Charles Dexter Ward has retired to his new england estate." "Well, do you know of any law prohibiting a man from residing on his own property?" "Now, let us begin again." "Well, you can see what happened to poor Gideon." "What are we going to do about it?" "Let's do something!" "Let's get him!" "What's happened?" "Don't you really know what happened, Mrs. Curwen?" "My name is Ward." "No, I don't know." "We came to see Gideon." "Then come and see." "There's Gideon..." "and each and every one of us unless we do something about it." "Just a minute." "Do you know how this happened?" "It didn't just happen, doctor." "It was caused to happen." "By whom?" "Do you know who did it?" "Aye, and so do you." "Who?" "The man who swore to do it." "The man you call Charles Dexter Ward." "My husband would never do such a thing!" "She's lying!" "They're all in this!" "Mrs. Ward, you better come along with me." "Where are we going?" "Back to the palace." "We've got to get him away from there before these people decide to take matters into their own hands." "Vivat..." "Vivat..." "Vivat." "Whoa!" "Doctor, I'm going with you!" "Don't be foolish!" "Wait here until I come back!" "I'm going with you!" "Then we must hurry!" "Lucien, you got the ropes?" "Here!" "Elijah?" "Aye!" "All right, then!" "Let's be about it!" "Mrs. Ward!" "Did you find him?" "No." "Well, what about Simon?" "Who?" "The caretaker." "I didn't see anyone." "I know Charles is here!" "Is there any more to the place than we've seen?" "I don't know." "Wait a minute." "When you tried to destroy the picture, suddenly he was in the room." "Did you see him come in?" "No." "Neither did I." "Ward?" "Ward!" "Charles Dexter Ward!" "Are you down here?" "Don't!" "It's only a book." "It's much more than a book." "Oh, my God!" "What did you see?" "What a pleasant surprise." "Well, now that you've seen all of the palace," "Dr. Willet, what do you think of it?" "It's quite old, you know-- older than you might imagine." "Torquemada spent many a happy hour here a few centuries ago." "It was old then." "Mr. Ward" "Well, I'll admit the furnishings do leave something to be desired, but, uh, it has a lived-in quality, don't you think?" "After all, home is where the heart is." "Isn't that so, my dear?" "Ward, listen to me!" "I'd be happy to, doctor, but my friends grow impatient." "Oh, please forgive me." "May I present miss Hester Tillinghast," "Mr. Simon Orne, and Mr. Jabez Hutchinson I believe you know." "They are my associates." "You see, we began a project a few years ago, but, unfortunately, it was--it was interrupted, and we're most anxious to take it up again." "What sort of a project?" "The most important ever attempted of humans, Dr. Willet-- more important than you can ever imagine, and therefore, I fear, beyond your understanding." "As a matter of fact, we don't fully understand ourselves." "We obey." "That is all." "We obey." "Simon!" "Come!" "Come, I said!" "Hester!" "Jabez!" "No!" "Stop!" "Charles!" "Charles!" "Charles!" "Charles!" "What are you doing to her?" "Honoring her, Dr. Willet." "Honoring her." "Aah!" "Charles!" "Aah!" "Joseph Curwen!" "Joseph Curwen!" "Joseph Curwen!" "Joseph Curwen!" "Maybe we'll just smoke him out!" "Ann!" "Ann!" "Ann!" "Ann!" "Charles!" "Ann!" "Poor Ann!" "You traitor!" "Dr. Willet, get her away from here!" "Get her away from here, Dr. Willet!" "Take her away!" "Get her away from here!" "Quickly!" "Quickly!" "What about Charles?" "I'll come back for him!" "They're finished." "No!" "Charles!" "Are you all right?" "Yes...thanks to you and to my wife." "I don't know how I can ever repay you for what you've done, Dr. Willet." "But I intend to try." "Charles, are you sure you're all right?" "Perfectly sure, my dear." "Perfectly sure."