it serves will punish me for my impudence. But whatever the case, Zann’s plans will only have begun.
I need not tell you about the signs we have witnessed these past few decades. I need not remind you of what we have faced, what we have lost. The portents are all come to pass. The harbinger will return. There’s no one left but you to stand in his way. I only wish I could be there to stand with you.
Godspeed, my friend.
Carter Weston
The last few words I read with trembling hands. Could it be so? Could he be gone? And worst of all, could someone else have the Incendium Maleficarum ? I opened the wall safe, and just as Carter had written, there were two manuscripts within. I took one, leaving the other behind. I put the letter in my pocket and called the police.
That was this morning. I left the police to their investigation, though I am certain that they will find nothing. No, I am the only one fit to undertake this task. I am no fool, however. I know that the difficulties I face will be arduous, and I fear that my age may prevent me from accomplishing that which must be done. This is a journey that I cannot make alone. Fortunately, there is one other in this world who cares for Carter as much as I—his daughter, Rachel. I only pray God that she can be made to forget and forgive the past.
For while Carter gave her life and love, it was also he who took them both away from her.
* * *
Arkham Advertiser , July 23, 1933, Page A-3
A ceremony conducted at Christchurch Cemetery on Saturday evening brought to a close a story that we at the Arkham Advertiser have been following with great interest these past six months. In a service conducted by the Rev. Alfred Pickman, the late Prof. Carter Weston of Miskatonic University was eulogized in a memorial that was among the more unusual we have witnessed here in Arkham. For while the family and friends of Prof. Weston were well in attendance, the Professor himself was notably absent.
As regular readers and Arkham familiars will well remember, Prof. Weston vanished mysteriously some six months ago. A search of his office and his home revealed no signs of break-in or other foul play, and police reports indicate that the Professor left no clue as to his whereabouts.
Intrepid reporting by this paper’s crack staff revealed, however, that Prof. Weston did leave behind a rambling manuscript, written in haste and locked within the wall safe of his office. While the Advertiser has been stymied in our attempts to obtain a copy of that manuscript, our sources indicate that it included fantastic tales, stories that strained credulity, even by the standards of the hardened veterans of the Arkham police department. Despite our best efforts, the Advertiser has been unable to ascertain further the contents of this cryptic document, and it is our understanding that it was destroyed at the behest of the Weston estate.
With no evidence of Weston’s whereabouts, certain distant family members and creditors of the professor moved for a declaration of death. As his only surviving daughter, Mrs. Rachel Jones (née Weston), did not object, a certificate of death was entered. This action was taken despite the protestations of Prof. Henry Armitage—also of Miskatonic—who has been adamant in his contention that Prof. Weston is, indeed, still alive.
While Saturday’s memorial brings the matter to an official close, we at the Arkham Advertiser will be ever vigilant in discovering and reporting any new information to our faithful subscribers.
Chapter 4
Journal of Henry Armitage
July 21, 1933
This morning, after the service at Christchurch ended, I found Rachel where I expected her, at her high-gabled home on Lich Street, not a stone’s throw from the Miskatonic campus. Knowing Rachel as I did, I prepared myself for a battle.
Six months had passed since Carter’s disappearance, and despite my eagerness to begin the mission he had left behind for me, I’d
I need not tell you about the signs we have witnessed these past few decades. I need not remind you of what we have faced, what we have lost. The portents are all come to pass. The harbinger will return. There’s no one left but you to stand in his way. I only wish I could be there to stand with you.
Godspeed, my friend.
Carter Weston
The last few words I read with trembling hands. Could it be so? Could he be gone? And worst of all, could someone else have the Incendium Maleficarum ? I opened the wall safe, and just as Carter had written, there were two manuscripts within. I took one, leaving the other behind. I put the letter in my pocket and called the police.
That was this morning. I left the police to their investigation, though I am certain that they will find nothing. No, I am the only one fit to undertake this task. I am no fool, however. I know that the difficulties I face will be arduous, and I fear that my age may prevent me from accomplishing that which must be done. This is a journey that I cannot make alone. Fortunately, there is one other in this world who cares for Carter as much as I—his daughter, Rachel. I only pray God that she can be made to forget and forgive the past.
For while Carter gave her life and love, it was also he who took them both away from her.
* * *
Arkham Advertiser , July 23, 1933, Page A-3
A ceremony conducted at Christchurch Cemetery on Saturday evening brought to a close a story that we at the Arkham Advertiser have been following with great interest these past six months. In a service conducted by the Rev. Alfred Pickman, the late Prof. Carter Weston of Miskatonic University was eulogized in a memorial that was among the more unusual we have witnessed here in Arkham. For while the family and friends of Prof. Weston were well in attendance, the Professor himself was notably absent.
As regular readers and Arkham familiars will well remember, Prof. Weston vanished mysteriously some six months ago. A search of his office and his home revealed no signs of break-in or other foul play, and police reports indicate that the Professor left no clue as to his whereabouts.
Intrepid reporting by this paper’s crack staff revealed, however, that Prof. Weston did leave behind a rambling manuscript, written in haste and locked within the wall safe of his office. While the Advertiser has been stymied in our attempts to obtain a copy of that manuscript, our sources indicate that it included fantastic tales, stories that strained credulity, even by the standards of the hardened veterans of the Arkham police department. Despite our best efforts, the Advertiser has been unable to ascertain further the contents of this cryptic document, and it is our understanding that it was destroyed at the behest of the Weston estate.
With no evidence of Weston’s whereabouts, certain distant family members and creditors of the professor moved for a declaration of death. As his only surviving daughter, Mrs. Rachel Jones (née Weston), did not object, a certificate of death was entered. This action was taken despite the protestations of Prof. Henry Armitage—also of Miskatonic—who has been adamant in his contention that Prof. Weston is, indeed, still alive.
While Saturday’s memorial brings the matter to an official close, we at the Arkham Advertiser will be ever vigilant in discovering and reporting any new information to our faithful subscribers.
Chapter 4
Journal of Henry Armitage
July 21, 1933
This morning, after the service at Christchurch ended, I found Rachel where I expected her, at her high-gabled home on Lich Street, not a stone’s throw from the Miskatonic campus. Knowing Rachel as I did, I prepared myself for a battle.
Six months had passed since Carter’s disappearance, and despite my eagerness to begin the mission he had left behind for me, I’d