Paul Ernst

Seabury Quinn
L. M. Montgomery
John Scott Douglas
Frances Bragg Middleton

MEET THE SINISTER AND MYSTERIOUS

DOCTOR SATAN
THE WORLD’S WEIRDEST CRIMINAL
 A MAGAZINE OF THE BIZARRE AND UNUSUAL

.REGISTERED IN U.S. RA.TENT OFFICE-

I Volume 26 CONTENTS FOR AUGUST, 1935 Number 2 |

Cover Design.M. Brundage

Illustrating a scene in ”Doctor Satan"
Doaor Satan.Paul Ernst 146
A thrilling, fascinating tale about the world’s weirdest criminal
The Drome of the Living Dead.John Scott Douglas 165
What horrible compulsion made the aviators of the Whirlwind Pligh fire on their comrades?
Ghost..Leona Ames Hill 179
Verse
The Blade Orchid.Seabury,Quinn 180
An eery mystery story about a botanical monstrosity—a tale of Jules de Grandin
The House Party at Smoky Island.L. M. Montgomery 197
A quaint and appealing weird story by the author of "Anne of Green Gables"
Once in a Thousand Years.Frances Bragg Middleton 204
A fascinating tale of a weird adventure in the Sargasso Sea
Satan in Exile (part 3).Arthur William Bernal 223
An astounding weird-scientific story about a daring brigand of the airways
The Treader of the Dust.Clark Ashton Smith 241
John Sebastian returned to his house, only to experience a ghastly horror
Old Salt.Edgar Daniel Kramer 246
Verse
The Idol and the Rajah.Claude Farrere 247
A strange tale of sudden death and the six-armed goddess Kali
Weird Story Reprint:
In Amundsen’s Tent.John Martin Leahy 251
A popular story from WEIRD TALES of seven years ago, reprinted by request
The Eyrie.266
The readers express their opinions

Published monthly by the Popular Fiction Publishing Company, 2457 E. Washington Street, Indianapolis, Ind.
Entered as second-class matter March 20, 1923, at the post office at Indianapolis, Ind., under the act of March 3,
1379. Single copies, 25 cents. Subscription, 53.00 a year in the United States. English office: Charles Lavell, 13,
Serjeants’ Inn, Fleet Street, E. C. 4, London. The publishers are not responsible for the loss of unsolicited manu¬
scripts, although every care will be taken of such material while in their possession. The contents of this mag¬
azine are fully protected by copyright and must not be reproduced either wholly or In part without permission
from the publishers.
NOTE—All manuscripts and communications should be addressed to the publishers* Chicago office at 840
North Michigan Avenue, Chicago, Ill. FARNSWORTH WRIGHT, Editor.
Copyright 1935, by the Popular Fiction Publishing Company.
COPYRIGHTED IN GREAT BRITAIN
WEIRD TALES ISSUED 1st OF EACH MONTH
W.T.-i 143
 "Welcome, Ascott Keane,” came his sardonic words.

By PAUL ERNST
The world’s weirdest criminal and strangest detective come face to face—a
thrilling, fascinating and utterly different mystery-story

B 1. The Death Shrub

USINESS was being done as usual
in the big outer office of the Ryan
ment heads. Men and girls bent over
desks, reading and checking order blanks,
typewriting, performing the thousand and
Importing Company. Calls came one duties of big business.
over the switchboard for various depart- Yet over the office hung a hush, more
146
 DOCTOR SATAN 147

sensed than consciously felt. The type¬

writers seemed to make less than their © Here is a new type of weird tale,
normal chatter. Employees talked in low and new thrills await you as you read
tones, when they had something to com¬ about the sinister exploits of Doctor
municate to one another. The office boy Satan, the world's weirdest criminal.
showed a tendency to tiptoe when he car¬ He is an immensely wealthy man,
ried a fresh batch of mail in from the who has turned to crime to satisfy
anteroom. his longing for thrills. And he makes
The girl at the switchboard pulled a crime pay beyond the dreams of
plug as a call from the secretary of the avarice; for if it did not pay, the
big boss, Arthur B. Ryan, was concluded. game would not be to his liking. He
The office boy looked inquiringly at swims to power with utter disregard
her as he passed. for others, striking down those in his
"How’s the old man?” he asked her. path cruelly, ruthlessly, inexorably,
The girl shook her head a little. and weirdly. He is no ordinary vil¬
"I guess he’s worse. That last call was lain, but is truly the Master Mind of
important, and he wouldn’t take it him¬ crime, possessing scientific knowl¬
self. He had Gladys take it for him.” edge and power that make him
"What’s the matter with him, any¬ unique among all the so-called "mas¬
how?” ter minds" of fiction. He well mer¬
"A headache,” said the girl. its the sobriquet of Doctor Satan.
"Is that all? I thought from the way But he is opposed by another mind
everybody was acting like this was a in many ways equal to his own: As-
morgue, that he was dying or something.” cott Keane, criminologist par excel¬
"I guess this is something special in lence, known even to his intimate
the way of headaches,” the switchboard friends as only a millionaire playboy.
girl retorted, smoothing down the blond He has turned to fracking down
locks at the back of her head. "And it crime for the same reason that Doc¬
came up awful sudden. He walked past tor Satan has turned to committing
here at nine, two hours ago, and grinned crime—for the thrill of the game.
at me like he felt great. Then at ten he This story is the first of a series of
phoned down to the building drugstore tales, each complete in itself, in
for some aspirin. Now he won’t take a which these two strange characters
call from the head of one of the biggest strive against each other. But wheth¬
companies in the city! I guess he feels er Doctor Satan is preying on rich
terrible.” men in Wall Street, or ruthlessly
"A headache!” snorted the office boy. spreading panic terror in Hollywood,
"Well, why don’t he go see a doctor?” or striking the winter tourist influx
"I put through a call for Doctor Swan¬ at Miami with ghastly death, we
son, on the top floor of the building, ten know that you will be fascinated
minutes ago. He was busy with an ap¬ with the harrowing adventures of
pointment, but said he’d be down soon.” Doctor Satan and Aseoft Keane. And
"A headache!” shrugged the boy again. each of these stories is a genuine
"And he can’t take it! Wonder what he’d weird tale—eery, uncanny and per¬
do if he got something serious the mat¬ meated with an icy breath of horror
ter with him?” like a cold breeze from the tomb.
He swaggered on, and the hush seemed
148 WEIRD TALES

to deepen over the office. A premonitory A glance he took into Ryan’s office.
hush? Were all in the big room dimly All outside saw his face go the color of
conscious of the sequence of events about ashes. He tottered, caught at the door to
to be started there? Later, many claimed keep from falling.
they had felt psychic warnings; but wheth¬ Then, with the air of a man dazed by
er that is fact or imagination will never a physical blow, he closed the door and
be known. stumbled toward the switchboard.
A hush, with a drone of voices and "Phone the police,” he said hoarsely
machines accentuating it in the outer of¬ to the girl. "My God ... the police . . .
fice. A silence, in which the doors of the though I don’t know what they can do.
executives, in their cubicles along the east His head-”
wall of the office space, remained closed. "What—what’s the matter with his
A quiet that seemed to emanate from the head?” the girl faltered as her fingers
blank, shut door marked Arthur B. Ryan, stiffly manipulated the switchboard plugs.
President. The sales manager stared at her with¬
And then the hush was cracked. The out seeing her, his eyes looking as if they
silence was torn, like strong linen scream¬ probed through her and into unplumbed
ing apart as a great strain rips it from chasms of horror behind her.
end to end. "A tree growing out of his head,” he
From behind the door marked Pres¬ panted. "A tree . . . pushing out of his
ident came a shriek of pain and horror skull, like a plant cracking a flower-pot it
that blanched the cheeks of the office outgrows, and sending roots and branch¬
workers. A yell that keened out over the es through the cracks.”
hush and turned busy fingers to wood, He leaned against the switchboard.
and which stopped all words on the sud¬ "A death-tree, killing him, murdering
denly numbed lips that had been uttering him. Hurry! Get the-”
them. He lunged for her, but was too late.
Ryan’s secretary, pale, trembling, ran The switchboard girl had slid from her
from her desk outside the office door and chair, unconscious. The screams, the at¬
sped into Ryan’s office. mosphere of horror, the look of terror
"Oh, my God!” the shriek came more on the man’s face, had been too much for
dearly to the general office through the her.
opened door. "My head ... oh, my Blindly, with fingers that rattled against
God!” the switchboard, the man put through the
And then the screams of the man were call himself.
swelled suddenly by the high shriek of
tiie girl secretary. "Look—look-”
There was the thud of a body in Ryan’s
T hat was at eleven in the morning
of July 12 th, a day that made crim¬
office, telling the plain message that she inal history in New York.
had fainted. And an instant later the At eleven-ten, in a great Long Island
agonized shrieks of the man in there were home, the second chapter was being writ¬
stilled. ten.
For a second all in the general office The home belonged to Samuel Billings¬
were gripped by silence, paralyzed, star¬ ley, retired merchant. It was a huge es¬
ing with wide eyes at the door to the tate, high-walled. In the walls a new iron
private office. Then the sales manager gate glistened, closing off the front drive¬
stepped to the open door. way. It was a high gate, heavily barred—
 DOCTOR SATAN 149

the kind of gate that would be installed but I guess it is or he wouldn’t have hired
by a man afraid for his life. Beside that us. He didn’t tell us anything except to
gate two men lounged. Each was big, keep everybody out of the grounds.”
heavily muscled, with a bulge at his arm- Merton Billingsley clutched at the
pit speaking of a gun in readiness. man’s arm.
At the front door of the house another "Is he all right now? Have there been
man was stationed; and there was one at any attempts on his life so far?”
the rear, and still another patrolling the "None yet,” said the man, holstering
grounds. This last one carried a rifle. his automatic. "And I guess he’s all right
The summer sun gleamed bright over —except he’s got a headache.”
the estate. The silence of the suburbs en¬ “A headache?”
veloped it, yet danger lowered like a black "Yeah. His high-hat butler came down
veil over the place. here a half-hour ago, and said a doc had
A long low roadster slid to a stop be¬ been called and we were to let him
fore the closed iron gate. A young man, through. The old—Mr. Billingsley had
dark-haired, with dark gray eyes, sounded a bad headache. The doc came ten min¬
the horn. Reluctantly the gate was opened. utes ago and is up in his room with him
The man drove the roadster in and start¬ now. But aside from the headache, he’s
ed toward the house, but was stopped by all right-”
the two guards who stood before the car Through the golden summer sunlight,
with an automatic apiece covering its like jagged lightning impinging on the
driver. ear-drums instead of the optic nerves, a
The young man glared. scream lanced out. It was a thin, high
"Well?” he snapped. "Who the devil shriek that drove the color from the faces
are you? What are you doing here?” of Merton Billingsley and the two guards.
"Same to you, buddy,” rasped one of It came from behind a shaded window in
the men, coming closer. "What’s your the front corner of the great house.
business here?” "My uncle’s room,” breathed Merton.
The young man glanced at the new, "What-”
high gate and back to the guards. He swallowed, and jerked his head to
"I’m Samuel Billingsley’s nephew,” he the two guards.
said. "My name’s Merton Billingsley, "On the running-board,” he snapped.
I've been away for a month—and I come "We’ll get to the house-”
back to be stopped at the point of a gun The whine of gears drowned his words.
at my own uncle’s house-” With a guard on each side, the roadster
"Take it easy,” said the man gruffly. sped down the graveled driveway and to
"We’re the old—I mean we’re Mr. Bil¬ the house.
lingsley’s bodyguard. Hired us two days The door opened as Merton got to it
ago. Orders were to investigate every¬ A gray-headed butler faced him.
body driving in here. Have you got any "Willys!” exclaimed Merton. "My un¬
proofs that you’re his nephew?” cle .. . what in God’s name is the mat¬
The young man showed letters. His ter with him?”
annoyance was giving way to curiosity— The man shook his head.
and alarm. "I don’t know. He complained of hav¬
"Bodyguard!” he exclaimed. "Why a ing a terrific headache, sir. And I phoned
bodyguard? Is my uncle’s life in danger?” for Doctor Smythe. Then, just a minute
The man shrugged. "I wouldn’t know, ago he screamed-”
150 WEIRD TALES

Down the curved marble staircase to tiie body lay on its*side, the face was
the front hall a man was stumbling—a pointed toward the ceiling. And from the
middle-aged man whose eyes were wide top of the skull something was protrud¬
and whose features were distorted. ing. Merton’s hands crept toward his
’'Smythe!” said Merton. "Uncle Sam¬ throat as he looked at it.
uel... tell me! Quick!” A sort of bush, with leafless, sharp-
The doctor stared at him. He moist¬ pointed twigs branching out in all direc¬
ened his lips. tions, grew from the top of the skull. It
“Your uncle is dead.” was like a hand with many small sharp
"Dead! But what happened to him? fingers that had thrust up through the
He was an old man, but he was in good bone, with its thick, wrist-like stem root¬
health. What killed him?” ing in the brain beneath.
"A plant,” whispered the doctor. "A A tree, quick with life though rooted
kind of bush. Thorn-bush—God knows in death! Quick with life? As Merton
what! How awful! That thing, blossom¬ stared with glazing eyes, he saw the leaf¬
ing from his head-” less, sharp little branches crawl out a
Merton shook his shoulder savagely. little farther. The thing was growing
"Are you insane? Pull yourself to¬ even as he watched it!
gether! What’s this talk of bushes?” With a low cry, he turned and ran
“A bush . . . growing out of his head!” from the room.
whispered the doctor, moistening his pale
lips again and again. 2. Ascott Keane

M erton started up the stairs. Smythe,

I N A Park Avenue penthouse two men
were seated in a great room fitted out
rousing himself, grasped his arm.
as a library. The room was lined with
"Don’t go up there, Merton! Don’t!”
books, in sections which were unobtru¬
Merton wrenched his arm away.
sively but precisely labeled as sections of
"My uncle lies up in his room, dead—
shelving in public libraries are labeled.
and you tell me not to go up to him!”
"Science,” one of the largest sections,
He took the stairs two at a time.
crammed with books, was tagged. An¬
I’m warning you,” came the doctor’s
other read, "Mythology;” a third, "Oc¬
shrill voice. "The sight you’ll see-”
cult.” Then there were "Psychology,”
But Merton went on, around the curve
"Engineering,” "Biology,” many others,
in the staircase, down the hall at the top.
each containing dozens of volumes.
The door to his uncle’s room was
closed. Impetuously he opened it and The focal point of the big, lofty
leaped inside the big bedroom. It was chamber was a huge ebony desk. It was
dim in there, shaded against the sunlight. at this desk that the two men were seated,
But after a few seconds he saw it—his one in a leather chair beside it, the other
uncle’s body. leaning back in a swivel chair from be¬
It lay beyond the big bed, the corpse fore it.
of a man of seventy, thin, clad in a silk The man in the visitor’s chair was
robe. The body was twisted and distort¬ about fifty, expensively dressed, a typical
ed. But it was not the body that riveted big business man with the suggestion of
the gaze of the dead man’s nephew. It a paunch that comes with success and a
was the head. striving after more millions instead of
The head was turned so that, though physical fitness. But there was one thing
 DOCTOR SATAN 151

about this business man that was not typ¬ into an art that passes beyond the reach
ical. That was the expression on his face. of genius.”
Fear! The blind terror of an incoher¬ Ascott Keane’s calm, steely eyes stared
ent animal caught in a trap beyond its steadily into the frantic depths of the
comprehension! other man’s pale blue ones.
"I am a dilettante,” he murmured. "I
His face was gray with fear. His lips
inherited a fortune, and I loaf through
were pallid and his hands were shaking
life playing with first editions, polo po¬
with it. The sound of his ragged breath¬
nies and big game hunting.”
ing was clearly audible in the almost
“Yes, yes, I know. That’s the picture
cathedral-like hush of the great library.
the world has of you. The picture you’ve
The man sitting proprietorially at the
deliberately painted. But I tell you I
desk watched his visitor with almost clin¬
know your capabilities! You’ve got to
ical detachment, though sympathy showed
help me, Keane!”
in his deep-set eyes. A man to attract
Keane’s long, strong hand went out.
attention in any gathering on earth, this
"Let me see the note.”
one.
Walstead fumbled in his pocket and
He was a big man, but supple and drew out a folded sheet of paper. Han¬
quick-moving. His eyes, deep under coal- dling it as though it were a deadly ser¬
black eyebrows, were light gray; they pent, he handed it to Keane, who spread
looked calm as ice, as if no emergency
it out on the desk.
could disturb their steely depths. He had "Ballard Walstead,” Keane read aloud.
a high-bridged, patrician nose, a long “You are hereby given a chance to pur¬
chin that was the embodiment of strength,
chase a continuation of your rather use¬
and a firm, large mouth. less life. The price of this continuation
His mouth moved, clipping out words is the round sum of one million dollars.
with easy precision. You may pay this in any way you please
"You say you got the note yesterday, •—even in checks, if you like, for if ever
Walstead?” you attempt to trace the checks you will
Thus casually he addressed Ballard W. die. And if you refuse payment you
Walstead, one of the richest men in the will die even more quickly.
city. "You will disregard this as a note from
"Yes,” said the man in the visitor’s a crank, of course. But by noon tomor¬
diair. row you will know better. You see, I
“Why did you come to me with it?” have given two other men, Arthur B.
“Because,” said Walstead, raising a Ryan and Samuel Billingsley, a choice
trembling hand in a repressed gesture of similar to yours—and I believe they are
pleading, "I thought if anyone on earth going to defy me. Read in the afternoon
could save me it would be you. Oh, I papers what happens to them, Walstead.
know about you, though I realize that not And believe me when I say that the same
a dozen people in the world are aware of thing will happen to you if you do not
the real life of Ascott Keane. These few meet my price. Directions will be given
know you as one of the greatest criminal to you tomorrow noon as to where and
investigators that ever lived—a man how you are to pay the money. Your
whose achievements have something al¬ obedient servant, Doctor Satan.”
most of black magic in them. They know Keane looked up from the paper.
that you’ve raised a hobby of criminology “Doctor Satan,” he repeated. Into his
152 WEIRD TALES

steel-gray eyes came a hard, relentless meet his order. And he must have fore¬
glint. "Doctor Satan!” seen that you would have to refuse his
"You know him?” asked Walstead demand. . . . Were you in your office
eagerly. when the second note was delivered?”
"I know of him. A little. You read in "Yes.”
the papers this afternoon of what hap¬ “Who delivered it?”
pened to Ryan and Billingsley?” Walstead shivered again.
"Yes,” whimpered Walstead. "My "That is one of the deepest mysteries
God, yes! And that’s what will happen of all. No one delivered it.”
to me, Keane, if you won't help me.” Keane stared.
He shuddered as though drenched with "Nobody delivered that note!” Wal¬
icy water. "A tree—growing out of a stead repeated. "I was alone in my office,
man’s head! Killing him! How can such reading over some papers. I turned away
things be done?” from my desk a moment. When I turned
"That is something only Doctor Satan back, the note was there, on top of the
can answer. Did you get instructions other things. No one had come in. The
about where to pay the money this noon, window was closed and locked. Yet the
as is promised in this letter?” note—was there. It—it was like witch¬
In answer, Walstead drew out another craft, Keane!”
bit of notepaper. Keane’s fingers, stilled for a moment,
"Walstead.” Keane read. "Leave the moved restlessly again.
money either in thousand-dollar bills or “You may be speaking more truly than
in checks up to twenty thousand dollars you know, Walstead. After you received
apiece, in the trash can at the comer of the note, what did you do?”
Broadway and Seventy-Sixth Street, to¬ "I stayed in my office till four-thirty.
night at nine o’clock. If checks, make Then I went down to the building lobby,
them payable to Elias P. Hudge. Signed, and saw the afternoon papers. Scream¬
Doctor Satan.” ing headlines about the deaths of Ryan
Keane’s eyes searched Walstead’s and Billingsley. After that I came here
again. as fast as my chauffeur could drive me.”
"Are you going to do it?” "Did anything unusual happen to you
"I can’t!” exclaimed Walstead hyster¬ on the way?”
ically. "I’m a wealthy man, but my af¬ Walstead shook his head.
fairs are in such a state that to take a "Nothing. I got into my car at the
million dollars in cash from my business office building, was driven straight here;
would bankrupt me! I can’t!” and got out in front of your building."
"No one said anything to you? Or,
K eane’s long, powerful fingers formed perhaps, jostled you?”
■ a reflective pentroof under his long, "No one,” said Walstead. Then his
powerful chin. lips tightened. "Wait a minute. Yes! A
"You’re going to defy Doctor Satan, man bumped into me just as I was com¬
then.” ing into this building entrance.”
"I must!” cried Walstead. "I have no Keane’s eyes narrowed till all that was
choice.” apparent of them was two gray glints.
Keane’s fingers moved restlessly. "Can you describe him?” he said
"This Doctor Satan must have known quickly.
your affairs were such that you couldn’t "No. I didn’t pay any attention to him
 DOCTOR SATAN 153

at all, after I saw he had no weapon in "The stranger that jostled him in front
his hand and meant me no harm. His of the building—that stranger was death.
shoulder brushed against my neck and Perhaps Doctor Satan himself, perhaps a
cheek, and then he was gone, after apol¬ helper.”
ogizing.” "How can you know that?”
Keane got up from his desk. His eyes Keane breathed deeply.
were more inscrutable than ever. "Doctor Satan must have known in ad¬
"I’ll do all I can to help you,” he said. vance that Walstead could not pay his
"Suppose you run along now, Walstead.” demands. Hence he must have planned
Walstead jerked to his feet with frenzy to use him from the start as a sacrifice—
and perplexity in his face. He was al¬ a third horrible example of what happens
most as tall as Keane, but didn’t give the to wealthy men who defy him. The man
appearance of being nearly so big. who jostled him planted death’s seeds in
"I don’t understand, Keane. Are you him. He will die within the hour, with
throwing me over? Aren’t you going to one of those unearthly shrubs forcing its
act with me against this Doctor Satan?” way up through his skull.”
"Yes, I’m going to act against Doctor "Still—you sent him away.”
Satan.” Muscle ridged out in Keane’s “I did, Beatrice. Suppose he died
lean cheeks. "You go along home.” here? The police! Many questions! De¬
"I’d hoped you would let me stay here, tention! And I don’t want to be de¬
with you, till the danger was past-” layed. I have work to do now that makes
"You will be in no more danger at any of my former tasks seem like unim¬
home than you would be here,” replied portant games. Doctor Satan! With three
Keane, with odd gentleness in his tone. rich men dead, no others will defy him.
"My man will show you to the door.” He’ll loot the city—if I can’t stop him.”
With the words, Keane’s man ap¬ The girl, Beatrice Dale, Keane’s com¬
peared; a silent, impassive-looking fellow panion as well as secretary, fingered the
who handed Walstead his hat aad stick. notebook in which was recorded the talk
Walstead, with many protests, went between him and Walstead.
out. . . . "Who is this Doctor Satan, Ascott?”
she said. "I don’t seem to remember that
“T> eatrice," Keane called softly, when he has figured in any of your former
he was alone in the big library work.”
again. "He hasn’t. Doctor Satan is a new
A section of the shelving, lined with phenomenon. I’ve been expecting to hear
books, swung smoothly away from the from him ever since I heard the first
wall, forming a doorway. Through it whisper of his existence a month ago.
came a girl with a shorthand notebook Now, with these three weird, fantastic
and a pencil in her tapering hands. She murders, he makes his bow. Who is he?
was tall and beautifully formed, with Where does he hide? What does he look
dark blue eyes and hair that was more red like? I don’t know—yet.”
than brown. He began pacing up and down before
"You sent him away!” she said, eyes his big ebony desk.
at once accusing and bitterly disappoint¬ He chanced to be looking at the chair
ed. "You wouldn’t help him. You sent when it happened.
him away.” The chair, also ebony, was pushed a
"He is past help,” retorted Keane. few feet back from the desk. It was tilt-
154 WEIRD 1'ALES

ed back a bit, with the felt pad slightly cealed behind a red mask that curtained
awry from the movement of his body as it from forehead to chin with only two
he had left it. black eyes, like live coals, showing
It squatted there, a dark, inanimate through eyeholes.
thing at one instant. At the next there Lucifer! And to complete the grim
was a soft pouff of sound—and the chair travesty of resemblance, two homed red
leaped into blue incandescence. Lambent projections showed above the red skull¬
flame played over it, so hot that it blasted cap that hid the man’s hair.
the faces of Keane and Beatrice five feet Before him, on the metal table, a thin
away. For perhaps four seconds the blue blue flame died slowly down into a
flame persisted. Then it died out as sud¬ sprinkling of yellowish powder from
denly as it had appeared. which it had originally been bom. The
And the chair was no longer there. In blue flame was the only light in the room.
its place was a little heap of fine ash, By its flicker could be seen three other
smoldering on the carpet. men, crouching around the walls and
Keane gazed slowly into Beatrice’s hor¬ watching the flame with breathless intens¬
rified eyes. ity.
"I don’t know about Doctor Satan yet,” One of these three was a young man
he repeated coolly, "but apparently he with an aristocratic but weak and degen¬
knows a great deal about me!—Well, erate face. The other two were creatures
what is it, Rice?” like gargoyles. The first was legless, with
his great, gorilla-like head, set on tre¬
Keane’s man stood in the library door¬
mendous shoulders, coming up only to a
way, staring first at his master and then
normal man’s waist. The second was a
at the tiny heap of ash that was all that
wizened small monkey of a man with
was left of the ebony chair.
bright, cruel eyes peering out from a mat
"Mr. Walstead just died, sir,” he said.
of hair that covered all his features.
"It was in the lobby of the building, just
The blue flame on the metal table died
as he was about to step into the street.
out. The red-clad figure straightened up.
He’s lying down there now.” Rice’s eyes
A gloved hand touched a switch and the
flashed bleakly. "There’s something push¬
room was illuminated with red light.
ing up through his head, sir. Little sharp
"Ascott Keane,” said the man in Sa¬
spikes of something, like branches of a
tan’s costume, "has escaped the blue
Ettle tree, or bush.”
flame.”
The three men around the walls
3. Doctor Satan

T hree miles away, in a windowless,

black-draped room, a figure bent over
breathed deeply. Then the younger, with
the weak face, scowled.
"How do you know that, Doctor
a metal table in the attitude of a high Satan?”
priest bending over an altar. “If the flame had consumed him,” Doc¬
The figure looked like one robed for a tor Satan said, his voice harsh and mono¬
costume ball, save that in every line of it toned, “the blue fire would have burned
was a deadliness that robbed it of all sug¬ red while his body was devoured. It
gestions of anything humorous or social. did not bum red.”
Tall and spare, it was covered by a The younger man walked toward the
blood-red robe. Red rubber gloves table. He moved with a curious air of
swathed the hands. The face was con¬ cringing defiance. The other two men
 DOCTOR SATAN 155

were frankly in awe of the red-dad one. air, must be inhaled by the victim, to
The younger man tried to throw off that lodge in the nasal passage and later work
awe. its way up to the brain.”
"How do you control the flame, Doc¬ "You have more seeds of this tree?”
tor Satan?” he asked. said the young man, fingers shaking as he
The coal-black eyes burned into his raised the cigarette to his lips.
through the eyeholes in the red mask. "Yes,” said Doctor Satan. His man¬
"It is all in here,” Doctor Satan said ner was strange, his voice almost gentle.
at last, pointing to an andent roll of But there was a deadliness in the very
papyrus spread flat on a stand near the gentleness, like the deadliness with which
metal table. "The ingredients of the a cat toys with a mouse. The monkey¬
flame were compounded first in Egypt, like little man with the hairy face, and
five thousand years ago. To these in¬ the legless giant with the huge shoulders,
gredients are added powdered bits of the stirred restlessly in their positions by the
person of the one to be consumed by the wall.
flame. Fnger-nail parings, hair, bits of "Why didn’t you use the flame on
discarded clothing, for instance. Then Ryan and Walstead and Billingsley?”
when the powder is burned, the person questioned the young man. "That would
burns, though a thousand miles of dis¬ have been easier than killing them with
tance separate him from the blue fire.” your devilish thorn-bush.”
"Yet Keane escaped,” said the young "Easier,” conceded the grim figure in
man, watching Doctor Satan narrowly. red, "but not quite so spectacular. I
"I had no bits of Keane’s person to wanted those three to die as fantastically
place with the chemicals. He is too as possible, so the requests I make on
shrewd to have allowed hair or nail clip¬ other rich men will be more quickly
pings to be smuggled from his home. I granted.”
had only a sliver of the chair in which he A chuckle sounded from the lips under
customarily sits. Obviously, he wasn’t in the red mask. Doctor Satan walked to
the chair when I touched off the fire, and the stand on which the papyrus rested. He
so escaped death.” pulled out a drawer and took from it ten
bundles of currency. In each bundle
T he young man lit a cigarette. The
frightened defiance of his every ges¬
were thousand-dollar bills. And the band
around each bundle proclaimed that each
ture was heightened by the manner in contained a hundred such bills.
which he lit it. The coal-black eyes show¬ "The first contribution,” Doctor Satan
ing through the eyeholes narrowed a said. "From William H. Sterling, the
little. philanthropic manufacturer of automo¬
"The death tree, Doctor Satan,” the biles. One million dollars.”
young man said. "How do you work The young man stared at the heap of
that?” currency with glistening eyes. A fortune,
"It is a species of Australian thorn- in such small compass that it could be
bush,” Doctor Satan said without hesita¬ concealed under a man’s clothes!
tion. "Rather, it was, till with a certain But now, at the same time, he seemed
botanical skill I altered it into a thing suddenly to sense the mockery of Doctor
that flowers in two hours or less, rooting Satan’s geniality, and of his apparent
in a man’s brain. The only drawback is frankness in disclosing his affairs. Color
that the seed, a tiny thing that floats in drained from his face. And more drained
156 WEIRD TALES

from it at Doctor Satan’s next words. time it ended in a thickness like that of
"You know a great deal about me, beginning sleep.
don’t you, Monroe?” Doctor Satan’s eyes, glittering, ruth¬
Monroe swallowed painfully, then less, held Monroe’s eyes. Doctor Satan’s
straightened his shoulders in his former hand passed slowly before Monroe’s face.
frightened defiance. The monkey-like man and the legless
"Yes,” he said, a bit too loudly. "I giant watched from the wall.
know a lot. I know your real name—a “You are asleep.” Doctor Satan’s voice
family name familiar to everyone in the sounded somnolently in the silent, win¬
United States. I know your philosophy dowless room.
of life: how you, an enormously wealthy "I am asleep,” breathed Monroe, wide,
man, tired of all the thrills that money glassy eyes fixed on the red mask.
can buy, have turned to crime. I know “You will tell me all you know and all
you as a cold-blooded monster who, under you hope to do.”
the masquerade of Doctor Satan, intends "I will tell you all I know and all I
to make your crimes pay as part of your hope to do.”
lawless game. I know how you have "What were your plans concerning
studied the occult and the scientific, in me?”
preparation for this debut. And now I
know how you control two of your mur¬ F or a second Monroe’s still features
der tools—the blue flame and the tree twisted, as though even in hypnosis
his will fought to avoid answering that
of death.”
question. Then his lips moved mechan¬
Doctor Satan’s eyes bored into Mon¬
ically.
roe’s till the younger man gripped the
"I was going to inform the police how
edge of the metal table for support.
to find you when you collected your next
"Yes, you know a lot, Monroe,” he
looted million. Then I was going to take
almost crooned. "More than anyone else
the money you got from Sterling, and the
living. You wouldn’t think of betraying
seeds of the death tree and the chemicals
me, would you?” for the blue flame, and collect more mon¬
"Not if you treat me fairly, Doctor ey myself.”
Satan,” faltered Monroe. "But if you “It is enough,” said Doctor Satan, still
try to double-cross me, you are lost. In in that almost gentle voice.
a safe deposit box which is to be opened The monkey-like man and the legless
by my lawyer in case an ’accident’ hap¬ giant looked at each other. Doctor Satan
pens to me there is a full account of your¬ had pronounced a death sentence.
self-” Doctor Satan spoke to them, eyes never
His voice trailed off into a frightened leaving Monroe’s face.
squeak at the look in Doctor Satan’s coal- "Girse. Bostiff.”
black eyes. The red-clad figure appeared The two moved toward Monroe. The
to loom taller and taller, till it almost monkey-like man known as Girse hopped
filled the room. And now all the defiance like a deformed ape. Bostiff hitched his
was gone from Monroe’s posture, leaving giant torso over the floor with his thick
only the fright. arms, using his calloused knuckles as feet.
"What are you—going to do?” he "The iron box, Bostiff.”
panted. "What-” Bostiff hitched his way to one wall,
Again his voice trailed off. But this pushed back the sable drapes and drew
 DOCTOR SATAN 157

from a three-foot niche a coffin-like box Keane.” The name crackled out in the
that gleamed dully in the red light. still room. "There is the only danger I
Doctor Satan’s hand went out. He recognize. The police? Ludicrous! Pri¬
plucked three hairs from Monroe’s blond vate detectives? Bodyguards hired by
head. He laid the hairs on a small pile wealthy victims? They are children! But
of the yellowish powder on the metal in Ascott Keane lies a threat.”
table. The red-gloved hand touched the light
"You will lie down in the box, Mon¬ switch. Slowly the red bulbs faded out,
roe,’’ he droned. bathing the room in a lowering darkness
The blond young man walked with like that of a lurid, rapid sunset.
jerky steps to the metal coffin and lay "But the threat of Ascott Keane is to
down in it. be removed at once. Walstead saw him.
"The lid, Bostiff.” Walstead showed him the note. Keane
Picking up the massive iron cover of will act on that knowledge—and with
the coffin as easily as though it were a pot that action he will be trapped.”
lid, the legless giant put it on the box. Pure darkness held the windowless
Then, without further orders, he dragged room. In the darkness Doctor Satan’s
the metal coffin back to its niche in the voice concluded.
wall and slid it home in the surrounding "Ascott Keane shall die.”
stonework. Then there was silence, broken only by
Doctor Satan picked up a pinch of the the sound of breathing. The breathing
yellowish powder and crumbled it sharply of two men: Girse and Bostiff.
in his fingers. The tiny heap on the table Doctor Satan was gone.
burst into blue flame. The three blond
hairs writhed and were consumed. . . . 4. Satan's Trap
The end of the metal coffin, showing
from the niche, was suddenly red-hot,
I N front of a triple mirror before
which was a bench holding hundreds
then glowing with white incandescence.
of tiny pots and jars, Ascott Keane
Slowly it faded to deep, hot red in color,
worked deftly. His fingers flew from jar
and back to black.
to features, pot to face. And as they flew
Girse and Bostiff watched stolidly. If his face subtly altered. Already it was
ever an investigator opened that box noth¬ no longer the face of Keane. It was a
ing would be found but a pinch of ashes. countenance which to Beatrice Dale was
A pinch of ashes that had been a man, vaguely familiar—though she could not
planning to betray the master. yet name it.
Doctor Satan’s voice sounded, harshly, "That hideous death shrub!” she said.
calmly. "I can’t yet see how it is used by Doctor
"Danger has been eliminated from Satan.”
within. Now no one on earth knows my "You’ve seen Indian fakirs make a tree
real identity. It remains only to eliminate grow in a pot, haven’t you?” said Keane.
danger from without.’’ "Usually it’s a miniature orange tree. They
Bostiff spoke, his dull eyes fixed on make it grow before your eyes, and pick
Doctor Satan’s mask. an orange from it. Well, Doctor Satan’s
"The danger from without, master?” wizardry is something like that; only he
Doctor Satan’s eyes glowed green. utilizes a form of thorn-bush that flowers
"Yes. The danger that lies in Ascott in human substance instead of earth.”
158 WEIRD TALES

He reshaped his lips with a collodeon- will trap me. In that event”—his jaw
like red lacquer, and the girl cried aloud. squared—"I think he’ll be sorry.”
Keane’s face was that of Walstead. Line He stepped away from the mirrors.
for line it was Walstead’s slightly puffy And it was not Keane who moved—it
countenance that was reflected in the mir¬ was Walstead!
ror. A close friend of the dead million¬ In an antique Italian cabinet there was
aire would have been deceived. an extra wide drawer. Keane pulled this
"What are you planning to do, As- out. In it vwas a rolled papyrus that close¬
cott?’’ asked Beatrice. ly resembled the papyrus that had been
Keane began pinning thin pads to the spread wide in Doctor Satan’s black room.
lining of his coat to give his lean strong Beside the papyrus was a little stone jar.
body the bulk of Walstead’s puffy body. Keane opened the jar and took from it
“Doctor Satan said in his note to Wal¬ a bit of greenish paste, which he touched
stead to put the money in a trash can at to his forehead, the soles of his shoes,
Broadway and Seventy-Sixth Street. Very and the palms of his hands.
well, I’m going to take Walstead’s place. "Marvelous beings, the ancient Egyp¬
Made up as him, I’ll drop a package in tians,” he said softly. “I recognized the
that can—and wait to see who picks it blue fire that burned my chair—and
up.” would have consumed me if I’d been in
Beatrice shook her beautiful, coppery it. The fire burned in many a temple
brown head. along the Nile. But what the Egyptian
"Walstead’s death isn’t out in the wizards concocted they usually made fruit¬
papers yet. But surely Doctor Satan must less by further research.”
know that the man is dead. Or are you Beatrice caught his arm, her eyes fear¬
hoping to fool him?” ful.
“Doctor Satan,” said Keane dryly, Keane pressed her hand. “Don’t wor¬
“hardly has to wait to get his information ry about me, my dear. I’ll be back soon,
from the newspapers.” and I think I’ll be back with news that
“Then he’ll know that the man who this Doctor Satan, new peril to a city as
looks like Walstead, and who drops the yet ignorant of his existence, has passed
package in the trash can, can’t possibly be on to the hell he shoulcj have been sent
Walstead.” to long ago.”
“That’s right,” said Keane, drawing on He walked to the door, moving as
the padded coat and scrutinizing himself Walstead had moved. His eyes met the
in the triple mirrors. girl’s deep blue ones. Then he was gone,
“But he’ll guess it’s you! And he’ll to be trapped by the creature who had
almost certainly try to kill you!” brought to a new science of criminology
"That’s what I’m hoping,” said Keane, all the knowledge of ancient magic and
putting on a hat of the type worn by modem research.
Walstead.
“But Ascott-” ine o’clock!
“It’s like this,” said Keane. "Doctor Upper Broadway was crowded
Satan hasn’t met me yet. I think he’ll with night shoppers and movie-goers.
underestimate me. So I am rather stupid¬ Among the crowds near Seventy-Sixth
ly disguising myself as Walstead and go¬ Street moved a tall, slightly paunchy man
ing to the place where Walstead was to who kept his face shadowed by the brim
have gone, in the hope that Doctor Satan of his hat, a face that many in the city
 DOCTOR SATAN 159

would have sworn was that of a ghost— that tensed his body as a hound’s body
of the dead Walstead. is tensed at the scent of a fox.
On the northeast corner of Broadway A tall, shambling man, across the
and Seventy-Sixth a trash can showed. street from the trash container, was walk¬
The man disguised as Walstead crossed ing slowly toward the Seventy-Second
to the can. Street subway entrance. Under his arm
Under his arm was a small parcel done was held a parcel done up in newspaper.
up in newspaper. He dropped the parcel
Keane’s lips thinned. Doctor Satan
in the can, and walked on. Without a
was making sure he saw the parcel and
backward glance he rounded the next
followed the carrier!
corner.
He stepped unobtrusively from the
But once around the comer, Keane
doorway and into the Broadway crowds,
stopped and went back, moving like a
where he followed the tall, shambling
shadow.
figure to the subway entrance. Was the
He peered through the double angle of
tall figure that of Doctor Satan himself?
a comer plate-glass window at the trash
Or was it one of his helpers? Keane did
can. And he saw a sinister miracle.
not know. But he did know that he
The can was of wire, with interstices
would have shot the man down in cold
in its walls through which the contents
blood, on the chance that a diabolical ca¬
could be seen. When Keane had tossed
reer would have been nipped in the bud,
the package into it, the can had been half
had he not been fully aware that no
full of refuse. Now the old papers and
weapon as crude as an automatic could
odds and ends of trash seemed to be melt¬
prevail over an opponent like Doctor
ing away, like water draining down
Satan.
through a hole. Lower and lower the
contents sank—till finally the can was
empty!
T he tall figure got off the subway at
a Greenwich Village station. Keane
Keane shook his head a little, eyes
followed, a block behind.
gleaming like ice.
"Transmission of substance through His body was taut as a stretched ten¬
empty air!” he breathed. "One of the don. He knew he was to be trapped, to
secrets of nature no man is supposed to be brought to a carefully devised death.
have unlocked! You’re a terrible adver¬ He knew that Doctor Satan had, for the
sary, Doctor Satan!” moment, dropped all other plans to con¬
None in the crowds so close to the can centrate on removing him so that he could
had noted the way the refuse slowly dis¬ follow his criminal career unhampered.
appeared from within it. But Keane had Could he stay unharmed in that trap
caught it all. Moreover, he had seen that till he had overcome the man? Was his
the trash had disappeared first from the intellect the equal of that which could
north side of the can, as though it were cause solid matter to dissolve and reap¬
flowing in that direction, melting into pear in another spot?
thin air as it flowed. He was prepared for violence as he
The north side of the can. Toward walked along the dark Village street after
him. the tall figure. He was ready for any¬
Keane slunk into a doorway. His quick thing from a bullet or knife in the dark
eyes roved over the Broadway crowd. to an attack and abduction by masked
And in a moment they rested on a figure men springing on him from dark area-
160 WEIRD TALES

ways. But he was not prepared for the of that voice! Its vibrant arrogance and
thing that actually did happen. deadly coldness told him. It was the
At one moment he was following the voice of Doctor Satan himself. And he
tall figure. At the next the figure ahead was in the grim masquerader’s hidden
had disappeared—and Keane was still headquarters.
moving forward, though he had willed
his body to halt while he gazed around 5. The Two Titans
to see where the figure could have gone
to! Moving forward, against his will,
S lowly Keane’s eyesight returned to
him, to telegraph to his mind weird,
against the conscious command of his
nightmare pictures.
brain!
Black-draped walls closed him in.
Keane strove to stop, to walk to right
Lounging against one wall were two men
or left. He could not. His muscles were
—a man with a giant’s torso and no legs,
driven by another’s will.
and a creature with a hairy, ape-like face
And now another thing happened—a
in which were set bright, cruel little eyes.
thing even more frightening. He began
Across from them was a metal brazier,
to lost his sight.
set on a high tripod, in which a small
The dark street, the partly lighted
flame flickered. In the center of the room
buildings lining it, the sidewalk before
was a metal table, bare save for a small
him, all slowly faded from his sight. But
pinch of yellowish powder. And over
his body kept moving slowly, surely for¬
this table was bending the man who had
ward.
spoken—a figure that set the blood to leap¬
In a moment he was blind. He could
ing in Keane’s veins as his heart thudded
see not one thing. But his feet seemed
with sudden acceleration in his breast. A
able to see. They bore him on without a
stumble, raising for curbs, lowering him tall figure robed in red, with a red mask
over the face, red gloves on the hands,
for gutters.
Thus with no man forcing him, appar¬ and a red skull-cap from which protruded
small mocking imitations of Satan’s horns.
ently, blindfolded as surely as if thick
cloths were tied over his eyes, Keane Doctor Satan turned from the metal
moved to the will of Doctor Satan, toward table. His black eyes burned at Keane
the trap. through the eyeholes of the red mask.
He felt himself turn. Under his hand The mask quivered a little as the lips be¬
was an iron railing. He felt himself go¬ hind it moved.
ing down steps. A door creaked open in "Welcome, Ascott Keane,” came sar¬
front of him. He walked on, totally donic words. "We are honored that you
blind, and heard the soft creak, and a should have gone to such trouble to visit
slam, behind him. us in our modest lair.”
More stairs downward. Hands out¬ Keane’s face, looking, in the red glare
stretched to scrape along the moist walls that illuminated the room, like something
of a passage like a low tunnel. Steps cast in bronze, remained impassive. Word¬
again. A clang over his head as though lessly he watched the diabolical figure in
a stone trap-door had been battened down red.
above him. Finally a swish of drapes, The mockery faded from Doctor Sa¬
and a harsh, monotoned voice that made tan’s voice. His harsh tone was edged
every nerve-end in his body twitch. with steel as he said:
No need to speculate on the ownership "You committed suicide when you re-
W. T.—1
 DOCTOR SATAN 161

solved a month ago to devote your life a man to be killed. Wealthy yourself,
to destroying me. Oh, yes, I knew of the with a fairly analytical mind, you have
resolve the instant it was made. I have entertained yourself for years by scotch¬
ways of knowing what is in men’s minds; ing crime. But your career ends, with
though I concede that you were able, me, Keane. It ends now, in this room.”
shortly after that, to shield your brain Girse and Bostiff slowly left the wall
from me. Tell me, Ascott Keane, what they had been lounging against. Girse
warned you of my existence?” came with quick, small steps to Keane’s
Keane stood straight and tall before left side. Bostiff hitched his great body,
the red-robed figure. His resemblance to with swinging movements of his huge
Walstead faded, in spite of make-up, with arms, to Keane’s right side.
the altering of his expression. He was Keane still stayed motionless. Futile to
Keane again, regardless of collodeon- attempt to overpower Doctor Satan phys¬
painted lips and padded clothes. ically: it could not have been done even
"A month ago,” he said, ."I talked had the gigantic Bostiff and the agile
with the son of a bankrupt friend of Girse not been there in the black-walled
mine. The boy, a wild and not very room.
strong character, said nothing significant. The walls of the trap he had entered
But I too can read a little of what is in were strong walls; and its teeth were
men’s minds. And in his I caught a sharp teeth, from which there seemed
glimpse of a figure in Satan’s red mas¬ no escape. But Keane’s gray eyes were
querade. I got a hint of the man’s back¬ stedfast on the masked face of Doctor
ground and motives: a rich man, still Satan and there was no weakening of res¬
young, jaded with purchased thrills, with olution in the square line of his jaw.
no more humanity in his heart than a
Doctor Satan repeated an order he had
snake—out to become the world’s leading
given once before on that day.
criminal. A man whose whimsical choice
"Bostiff,” he said softly, "the iron
of a name, Doctor Satan, could not have
box.”
been more apt in expressing the ruthless¬
ness of his purpose. A sleek beast, play¬ The legless giant hitched his way to the
ing a monstrous game. A thing to be wall, drew back a sable drape, and pulled
stamped out as soon as possible.” from the niche in the stonework the cof¬
fin-like metal box.
The black eyes gleamed through the
Satanic mask. Doctor Satan stared at Keane with
green-glinting eyes. The stare held, min¬
"Young Monroe, you are talking about.
ute after minute. Keane’s eyes slowly
Fortunately he did not know my identity
glazed.
at that time. And now no one will ever
know. Monroe is no longer in a position "You are asleep,” droned Doctor Sa¬
to talk. And some papers he left behind tan at length.
with his lawyer have been destroyed with¬ "I am asleep,” breathed Keane.
in the hour.” Girse and Bostiff stared at each other
Again the arrogant voice hardened. with savage expectance on their faces.
"So you decided to be the one to anni¬ "You will do whatever I command,”
hilate me. Noble Keane! But the roles Doctor Satan said.
will be reversed. It is you who will be "I will do whatever you command,”
annihilated. I marked you at the start as said Keane, like an automaton .
W. T.—2
162 WEIRD TALES

D octor satan’s red-gloved hand ed in intensity. Doctor Satan’s red robe

went out toward Keane’s head. He stirred with the deep breath he drew.
plucked three hairs and laid them over the "And so ends Ascott Keane,” he said
small mound of yellowish powder on the vibrantly. "The one obstacle in my path.
table. Act for act, he was duplicating the I can be a king, an emperor, now, in
scene in which a treacherous disciple had time.”
been reduced from a man to a pinch of He turned to Girse and Bostiff.
ashes. "Go. I have no more need of you.”
"Take the lid from the box, Bostiff.” Bostiff hitched his huge body silently
The legless giant lifted the iron cover toward an end wall. He drew aside a
from the coffin. Within it could be seen drape and opened a door. Girse followed
scattered fine ash. him out of it.
"Keane, lie down in the box.”
The black eyes gleamed with a feral A lone, Doctor Satan went to the cab-
light as Ascott Keane slowly walked to c inet and drew from a drawer the
the box and lowered his body into it. ten bundles of currency containing one
Keane lay there, gazing up with wide, hundred thousand-dollar bills apiece. The
glazed eyes. bundles disappeared beneath the red robe.
Bostiff placed the lid back on the box. His hand went toward the switch that
His dull eyes went from the box to the controlled the red illumination of the
niche in the wall. room.
"No,” Doctor Satan answered his un¬ But his finger did not touch the switch.
spoken question, "we’ll not put the box His hand remained suspended in the air,
in its crypt. Leave it where it is. I want while he watched the iron coffin. And
to watch this.” his red-robed body was as immobile as

The red-gloved hands clenched with that of a statue.

eloquent triumph and revenge. The red- The lid of the coffin was moving.

robed figure towered in the room. Then Slowly, steadily, it raised, to slide from

Doctor Satan turned to the metal table. the box and clang against the floor.
A hand and arm appeared above the
He picked up a bit of the yellowish
edge of the box, which was still black-hot.
powder and crumbled it between power¬
The hand was unharmed. The coat sleeve
ful fingers. The tiny heap on the table
above it was charred a little at the cuff;
burst into clear blue flame.
that was all.
The- eyes of Doctor Satan and his two
Another hand and arm appeared, and
servants turned toward the metal box in
then the body of Ascott Keane from the
which lay Keane.
waist up as he sat in the coffin.
Swiftly the box glowed dull red, cher¬ Silently, rigidly, Doctor Satan glared
ry red, white-hot. Its rays beat against at him. And Keane got out of the coffin
the faces of the three, set the sable drapes and stood beside it. Wisps of smoke rose
to billowing a little. here and there from singed garments.
And in that white-hot metal coffin a But his flesh was not even reddened by
thing of flesh and blood was lying—or the fierce fire, and his gray eyes bored
had been lying when the blue flame be¬ steadily at the black eyes behind the mask.
gan to burn. "What the Egyptians discovered,” he
The metal box lost its fierce white said softly, "they rendered fruitless by
glow. The heat rays beating from it fad¬ succeeding discoveries. I read the origin
 DOCTOR SATAN 163

of your blue flame in your first attempt Tendons ridged up on the back of
on my life, Doctor Satan. And I took the Keane’s outstretched hand. Perspiration
precaution of using as armor some of the studded his forehead with the intensity
green paste the old priests used against of his effort to overwhelm the figure in
the consuming fires of their enemies.” red.
He took two slow steps toward the red- That aura which he had flung around
clad figure. the red-robed body was one of the most
"You should have watched your flame, powerful weapons known to occultism:
instead of the iron coffin, Doctor Satan. a concentration of the pure form of elec¬
You would have seen then that the flame tricity known as the Life Force. Mantling
burned blue throughout. And it should a living thing as it mantled Doctor Satan,
have burned red if my body was de¬ it should drain out life, leaving behind
voured.” nothing but inanimate clay. Yet it was
The breathing of the red-masked man not harming this man!
sounded in the tense hush of the room.
His eyes, glaring at the man who had
escaped a fate that would have over¬
S lowly, relentlessly, the aura contin¬
ued to fade. And then Doctor Satan’s
whelmed any other mortal on earth, were hands rose and leveled toward Keane.
frightful. Strange duel between two titans—two
"Now we are alone, Doctor Satan. You men who probably knew more of Na¬
have considerately sent your men away, as ture's dark secrets than any others on
I hoped you would do. We’ll see if your earth. Odd battle, with Keane, the force
powers are as strong as you think they of morality, gradually being beaten down
are.” by the force of evil.
The glare faded from Doctor Satan’s
For now Keane’s rigid arm was sink¬
eyes, leaving them glacially cold.
ing as the yellow aura almost disappeared
"I’ll not underestimate you a second
from around Doctor Satan. Slowly he
time, Ascott Keane! The death shrub—
sank to his knees, as if a great weight
the blue flame—you are armed against
oppressed him. And, as though this great
those. But I have other weapons.”
weight was that of some intangible sea
"You’ll never use them,” Keane
which could suffocate as well as weigh
growled deep in his throat.
down, he began to gasp for breath. Loud¬
And then his hand shot up.
er and louder his agonized breathing
Around Doctor Satan’s red-robed body
sounded in the room. Doctor Satan’s
a softly glowing aura suddenly formed.
black eyes glowed with triumph.
It was like a ball of pale yellow light
Keane could see nothing—could feel
which enclosed him, a lambent shell
nothing. Yet it was as if some colorless,
against the red rays of the room’s illu¬
invisible, tremendously heavy jelly were
mination.
gradually hardening around him.
A snarl came from Doctor Satan’s lips,
sounding muffled, as though the lambent The red lights grew dimmer, though
shell had actual substance and could stifle Doctor Satan had not touched the switch.
sound. He straightened, with the aura Keane felt that he was almost lost.
moving as his body moved. With enormous effort he brought his
His hands moved, weaving strange de¬ arms up, spreading them wide at his
signs in the yellowed air. And slowly the sides.
aura faded a little from around him. "Mother of God!” he whispered.
1164 WEIRD TALES

Like a living cross he was, in that po¬ a psychic, thinning fog. Keane began
sition; with trunk and head the upright, wrenching the black drapes from the
and arms die horizontal bars. walls.
"Mother of God!” He found a door and opened it. Ahead

Doctor Satan’s snarl was that of a of him he saw a low passage with steps
at the end.
beast. His eyes took on their feral green
light, with a fiendish disappointment em¬ He ran down the passage, up the steps.
In a moment he was in the street, clutch¬
bittering their depths.
ing the iron railing he had felt when he
And the great, invisible sea that was
came here blinded.
beating Keane down gradually receded
Cursing softly, he looked up and down
from around him. But as it receded, so
the sidewalk. There was, of course, no
dimmed the red lights, till the two men
sign of the red-dad figure.
were in blackness.
"Defeat,” he groaned.
"This time you preserve your life,”
Doctor Satan had made good his es¬
Doctor Satan grated in the darkness.
cape. And with him had gone one mil¬
"Next time—you leave your life behind!”
lion dollars, fruit of his first fantastic
There was a thud of sound, like a soft crime.
explosion. "Defeat!”
"Next time,” began Keane, struggling Keane’s wide shoulders sagged, but
to his feet and forcing his body forward only for a moment. Then they straight¬
through the last traces of the deadly, un¬ ened.
seen sea. The first round was Doctor Satan’s.
He stopped. He was alone in the black- But there would be another time. And
walled room. then, knowing a little more of the man¬
Slowly the lights came up again, as ner of being he was pitted against, he
though shining ever more clearly through could fight more effectively—and win.

Another startling encounter between Ascott

Keane and Doctor Satan will be pub¬
lished next month. Order your
copy at your news dealer’s
now.
 Jhe CP)
XXrome
of the Living Dead
By JOHN SCOTT DOUGLAS
What horrible compulsion led the aviators of the Whirlwind Flight to

M
fire on their comrades? An exciting tale of the World War

AJOR HUGH MILLER, wiry lit- Hope struggled with despair in Miller’s
tie Commanding Officer of the haggard gray eyes.
1st Air Squadron, glanced up as "Is that one of Cameron’s flight?” he
his big, blond orderly entered his office, asked hoarsely.
165
166 WEIRD TALES

Lieutenant Clinton Creel’s thin lips it’s composed of devils, of machines, of

twitched with a faint smile. robots. The Frogs claim it flies westward,
"No, sir,” he answered crisply. "Just too—not eastward toward the German
a plane being ferried here from the lines. They claim there are repainted
rear.” D. H’s. in that flight; that it is flown by
Miller glanced at his wrist-watch for the phantom pilots of Yanks who died.”
the eighth time in an hour. The C. O. broke off short, beads of
"Ten or fifteen minutes more petrol in perspiration standing out on his gray fore¬
their planes if they’re still alive, Creel.” head. "They’re crazy, of course — quite
The C. O. ran a shaking hand through his crazy-”
iron-gray hair. "It’s driving me crazy! Shuddering as though in the grip of
Ten men gone in two weeks—vanished malaria, the little major began pacing be¬
completely. Where, Creel—where?” hind his desk. Once more he glanced
Creel shrugged. "The breaks of war, with glassy eyes at his watch, shook it,
sir!” looked again. Then he pulled the blind
Miller sprang to his feet, his face back an inch from the window. Nothing
twitching. "Breaks of war, nothing!” he but darkness, broken momentarily by a
cried. "It’s-” His bony hand made star shell dripping its tentacles of light
a trembling, helpless gesture as he groped down the sky. No sign of flashing ex¬
for words; words which would express haust stacks; no sound of droning props
the fear that had been crawling in his through the crashing, shrieking noises
brain like maggots for the past two weeks. filling the night.
The little officer began to pace bade A blue-flame seemed to bum in the
and forth, speaking in a voice husky with orderly’s light blue eyes.
emotion: "You’re taking this too hard, sir.”
"There’s a spy in our midst, that’s evi¬ "Too hard!” The C. O. wheeled, eyes
dent, Creel. Someone’s tampered with twitching with anger. "What would you
our beacon light each time a patrol re¬ have me do. Creel?” Miller’s voice wasn’t
turned after dark. But—how? I’ve quite steady. "Laugh and shrug when I
placed guards around the switch; still it don’t know what kind of hell I’m sending
goes off. No one can find anything those kids out to when I order them to
wrong afterward. fly? Every time I send ’em out, I wonder
"The flights which should land here if I’ll ever see them again. By night they
continue westward, unable to find this vanish to the westward; by day, that
drome. Where do they go? If they damned Whirlwind Flight attacks like
cracked up, we’d get reports. If they hell on wings!
landed at other dromes, they’d return. But “I’m not like you, Creel. I’m with
ten planes we know of have flown west¬ those fledglings every minute they’re fly¬
ward in the last two weeks—never to ing. You don’t feel anything. You have
return. no nerves, no heart—you’re like those de¬
"No wonder the men are going screwy mons in that Whirlwind Flight, you’re a
from the strain. They try to hide their machine!”
fear. But it’s there, all the time, preying Creel’s thin lips tightened. "I don’t
on their minds. . . . And what of that let my imagination-”
‘Whirlwind Flight’? It swoops down, "Imagination!” Miller snorted. "You
killing our men right and left. It’s not a have none!” Suddenly the wiry little
flight composed of flesh-and-blood men— major’s body stiffened. "Motors, Creel!
 DROME OF THE LIVING DEAD 167,

Cameron’s flight-•” He turned, eyes sake, get lights! Anything! Matches,

unnaturally bright. "The beacons are searchlights! We have to let that fellow
ready?” know where his drome is; he hasn’t over
“We examined them before dusk, sir.” seven minutes’ fuel in his crate-”
“Yes, yes; I remember. And that fer¬ Men were only too eager to assist their
ried plane came in-” comrade. Pilots came running out of the
hangars with searchlights. Others struck
T he C. O. brushed past Creel, hur¬
rying down the narrow corridor of
matches.
There was a long, drawn-out voooooo
the barracks toward the door. There he of a speeding projectile—then a blinding
froze. Not a flight; just a single motor! blaze of light. Blackness was blasted
The others had died? Something tight¬ away. For a number of seconds, the
ened in the major’s throat. If that single major could see nothing. When he
pilot, Russ Cameron, had discovered that could distinguish objects again, the sput¬
hidden airdrome from which the Whirl¬ tering exhaust stacks showed him that the
wind Flight came, the loss of two men plane was far to the westward, flying a
was worth while. Tomorrow the bomb¬ straight course. The shell had exploded
ers could flatten it. So ran his thoughts. at the moment when the pilot might have
He sensed rather than saw men at seen their myriad small lights; that mo¬
“archie” posts, ready to fire the anti-air¬ ment had passed.
craft guns. Other men stood at the bea¬ The major walked back to his office
cons, ready to -place fingers of light on with bowed shoulders and numb brain.
the plane to identify its insignia. He felt as if the 71st were in the skeins of
The droning was deafening, now, clap¬ some intangible mystery. Russ Cameron
ping sharply against barracks and hang¬ meant more to Miller than any other-
ars. The C. O. could see the sputtering, member of the squadron. In sending him
bluish-white flashes of its exhaust stacks. out to solve the mystery which had been
"Lights!” he barked hoarsely. cracking morale, he had played his last
From the darkness came grunts and ace—and it had been trumped. The little
curses. major felt dead inside, utterly beaten.
Swearing like a madman, the C. O. ran
toward one crew. L ieutenant Russ Cameron had been
"Lights, you fools!” he bellowed. J blinded by that exploding shell.
"They must work! Not five minutes Flying five thousand feet above earth, he
ago-” had peered downward while the blue
"That was five minutes ago, sir,” a light quivered in a macabre world. A
mechanic interrupted. weird, unrecognizable world it was. Be¬
A cold sensation gripped the little ma¬ fore his eyes could adjust focus, earth and
jor’s heart. Strength seemed to flow out sky were again drenched in blackness.
of his body. Above was a plane, flying His daredevil blue eyes shadowed as he
westward to what? Death, destruction? glanced at his petrol gage. Almost empty!
Here on the ground they were powerless A few minutes more, and he’d be groping
to direct its course, yet the C. O. felt cer¬ blindly in the darkness for a landing—
tain it was one of his planes. Once more groping as Nevin, Crabbe, Rockwell,
some mysterious hand had blotted out Towne, Brawley and others of the 71st
their beacons. had groped before him.
Suddenly Miller saw red. "For God’s A weird foreboding chilled Russ Cam-
168 WEIRD TALES

eron’s heart. In a few minutes, perhaps, His hard, rugged jaw stiffening, Russ
he would learn how they had completely nosed down again, every sense alert, quiv¬
vanished from the face of the earth. Ten ering. One of the lights dropped, out¬
companions had vanished—where? lining the field. Russ breathed easier. The
Death was understandable. The two outline was reassuring. The same shape
friends who had left the 71st with Russ as the 71st. Khaki-dad men were visible
had died as brave men die. They had here and there near a building which must
met a bombing squadron. Russ had ac¬ be the hangar.
counted for two Fokkers; his two friends, Okay! He was safe!
for one Fokker each before they had died Russ rolled in on the tarmac. Three
from machine-gun lead. But you under¬ khaki figures approached his plane. Russ
stood that! felt the hair rising on his head. A cold
Disappearing like the ten men who had fear pinched his heart. He had the illusion
flown westward over the 71st’s drome, that he had died and that he was meeting
however, leaving no wreckage, no charred his dead friends. He stilled the rising
remains, nothing—that was what gnawed feeling of panic, and laughed—a short,
at a man’s reason, undermined his belief nervous laugh.
in his own sanity. Russ shifted his big, "Nevin! Towne! Brawley! How in
rough-hewn body uneasily in his pit. And hell did you get here?”
would he, too, vanish like that when his Nevin and Towne did not appear to
petrol gave out? hear. Their bulging eyes were blank and
Suddenly a beam of light fingered the glassy. But in his friend Brawley the
sky. Relief surged over Russ. He had not transformation was most pronounced. A
passed the 71st—he was not lost! big fellow, he had been—but this living
The light struck his plane, blindingly. skeleton, with skin like saggingparchment
Russ could see nothing below, but he and blackened tongue showing behind
kicked left rudder, pushed his stick for¬ colorless lips—what had been done to
ward, and went into a spin. Another light him?
shattered the blackness. Sweat sprang out on Russ’s forehead.
Russ’s confidence returned. Right where "Brawley,” he screamed, “for heaven’s
the beacons were located at the 71st! His sake, don’t stand there staring like that.
drome, all right. Speak, Brawley!” Russ Cameron’s voice
The lights followed him down. Doubt withered as panic swept over him.
suddenly crept into Russ’s mind. What if "Dead,” he muttered thickly. "Dead, but
this wasn’t his drome? What if the lights alive! How-”
had refused to work again? The C. O. It came to him then with a horrible
had promised that Creel would place them shock. Zombies!
under guard, of course .. . but there were Part of his service had been in Haiti.
those vanished men! He had seen things which he and the
Russ snapped his stick backward, other men never discussed, accidentally
sharply. Mingled suspicion and fear made witnessed voodoo rites which negatived
his backbone creep. He glanced at his reason. Once he had seen a negro whom
gage. A couple of more minutes, if he the curse of some witch-doctor had pre¬
wanted to chance a blind landing. No— vented from sleeping in his grave. Dead,
too hazardous! Death was almost certain, the man had seemed, and yet he walked.
that way. A zombie! And the eyes of these men
 DROME OF THE LIVING DEAD 169

were like those of the negro—glittering, A week before, a conked engine had
staring straight ahead! saved his life by compelling him to desert
Ice formed in Russ’s veins as he a dog-fight when the Whirlwind Flight
snapped off his ignition and the prop of attacked. He was the only man who had
his plane stopped turning. His knees seen the members of that flight of demons
shook as he climbed down and walked and lived to tell of it. Their faces, he now
between these living dead men toward recalled, were like Nevin’s, Towne’s and
the hangar. In a moment, he saw his mis¬ Brawley’s. Dead faces, devoid of expres¬
take. It was not a hangar; it was an old sion. But those flyers had worn German
French chateau. Familiar, too. Something uniforms.
groped in his mind, and after several sec¬
onds he got the connection. R uss cameron’s brain seethed as he
It was a chateau he had seen from the - ascended the stone steps of the cha¬
air, in the Bois du Noir, said to belong to teau. Other stiffly moving men were
some French duke or other. Then he was wheeling another Spad into the hangar.
far west of his destination, the drome of Had another flyer just preceded him into
the 71st! the trap?
And then Russ saw why this drome They passed through an open door,
within Allied lines had not been found. turning right into a big room. Behind a
Already other zombies were rolling down desk at the other side of the room sat a
a heavy, light-green matting over the small man with the face of a pig and up¬
drome. A lawn, seen from the air! But standing yellow hair like porcine bristles.
the beacons? And then Russ understood His uniform was gray, not khaki. Russ
that, too. They were portable beacons, knew he was trapped.
not fixed beacons such as were found at His hand flashed for his automatic. Too
the 71st. When they were wheeled out late! Two huge Germans leapt at him
of sight, the chateau would have just the from either side, pinioning his arms. Russ
proper air of unkept desolation. Buried screamed:
here in the woods, a mile from the main "Brawley, for God’s sake, help me!’’
road, it had nothing to attract either inter¬ The three Americans stood like stone
est or suspicion. Even in the day, when statues, their faces blank, while Russ
sentries in the towers reported that there struggled with the two burly Germans.
were no other planes near by, the green In a moment he was relieved of his
matting which appeared to be grass from automatic, and his arms trussed at his
the air could be rolled back, and planes sides. Meanwhile, another man in gray
could take off. Three minutes later, there approached, and led the three zombies
would be no sign that this chateau was away. Poor, doomed souls—they had led
anything of importance; that it housed their friend in life into this trap. Would
these loathsome creatures. he, Russ, do likewise?
Beside Rtiss walked his three former His two captors marched him forward.
friends—stiffly, like huge, mechanical The officer looked up at him with small,
dolls. Goose-flesh traveled down his spine. bright eyes. "Welcome, Lieutenant.”
He turned to flee. Bony hands gripped Russ swallowed a lump in his throat.
his arms, and he felt as if he were in the "What have you done to Nevin and
grip of a vise. And he was half dragged Towne and Brawley?” he demanded
toward that chateau of horror. fiercely.
170 WEIRD TALES

"I,” said the little man, "am Baron von living corpses of former friends. Their
Kauptmann. Those are my men, members bulging eyes glittered as they sat motion¬
of what you American swine call the less on stools staring straight ahead. None
Whirlwind Flight.” showed the slightest sign of recognition.
The color drained from Russ’s rugged Their parchment-like skin seemed to be
face. drawn tightly over their skulls; they were
"Brawley fight for you?” he demanded incredibly wasted. And yet in each Russ
turbulently. "I don’t believe it!” recognized something familiar of the man
The pompous officer laughed sardon¬ he had known, and the gathering horror
ically. “Your friends have died, Herr which washed over him caused his blood
Leutnant. But in dying, they have left to turn to ice.
part of themselves to serve the Fatherland. Zombies—his friends! And he was
Their brain cells! In Haiti, I learn this about to become another. What hellish
secret, ja? But from voodoo I learned serum was this of von Kauptmann’s which
only part of this secret. 'Suspended death’ could make of these dead men a fighting
is what I call my serum; my slaves die, but machine as deadly as the Whirlwind
their brains live, Herr LeutnantHe Flight which had so shattered the organ¬
waved a pudgy hand at the Germans hold¬ ization of the 71st? Did it feed the brain
ing Russ. "I weary of baiting this stupid cells with some galvanic force such as the
fool. To his cell!” plates of a battery give forth by the action
Rage burned in Russ’s heart. The man’s of acid? Some electrical action, perhaps?
overwhelming conceit caused a red haze He shuddered as the horror of the idea
to swim before his stinging eyes. He reached his dazed mind. Then he whirled
broke from his captors, and started toward on one of his captors, his fist flying to¬
von Kauptmann with closed clenched fists. ward the man’s jaw. Crack! The power¬
But heavy hands gripped his throat, and ful German went down as though pole-
the two Germans dragged him backward, axed. Lightning streaked before Russ
and half carried him out of the room. Cameron’s pain-filled eyes, and his knees
Down two flights of steps he was taken, crumpled.
below the surface of the earth. The air He gained consciousness from the blow
was damp and sour, with a charnel scent he had received, to find himself in one of
of death which made Russ Cameron’s flesh the cages. Outside the bars, he saw the
crawl. Only two electric lights illumi¬ pudgy German scientist, von Kauptmann.
nated perhaps twenty cages, only ten of In his hand was a hypodermic needle.
which were filled. In the first one was a Russ felt as if his tongue had swollen
man whose old-young eyes lighted when so large that it filled his mouth. The end,
he saw Russ. He must be the aviator who this! He stared around his square cage.
had landed just before he had. The guards had removed his stool. The
“What is that fiend going to do with only object in the cage was a pan of water.
us?” he demanded hoarsely. As his eyes cleared, he saw two of the
“Kill us,” Russ formed with white lips. living dead men standing motionless be¬
The aviator’s face drained of color and side von Kauptmann. Towne and Braw¬
his face began twitching. ley! His own former friends used as the
The reek of this morgue was so strong tool of his destruction! The German offi¬
that Russ felt sick. On either side, as he cer unlocked the cell-cage. Russ threw
was marched along, Russ recognized the himself against the door.
 DROME OF THE LIVING DEAD 171

"Hold him,” von Kauptmann shouted. "Better,” von Kauptmann snarled,

The two zombies made stiff, awkward "that he have his serum now. If he con¬
movements, but their hands closed on tinues like this, I can never depend on
Russ’s arms, and his struggles were futile. him.”
The German rattled off another order He drew from his sagging pocket a kit,
and Russ was dragged back into his cage. and removed from it a hypodermic
While they held him, von Kauptmann needle. He held it up, and pushed the
rolled up the American’s sleeve and pre¬ plunger slightly. When he saw a drop,
pared to inject the hypodermic needle. he shook it off, and raised the man’s
Russ struggled afresh, his eyes wide with sleeve. He plunged in the point of the
horror. needle. Then he ordered the zombies to

S UDDENLY all hell seemed to break

leave the cell.
The aviator began to shake violently;
loose in the last cell. The aviator who then a death rattle commenced. His eyes
had been brought there before Russ began began to glitter feverishly, and he made
screaming and ranting. The glimpse he shaking, ‘ palsied movements. He was
had had of Russ’s treatment had proved dying!
too much for his reason. He flung him¬ Russ tried to shake off the numbing
self against the door of his cage. He clung feeling of horror that gripped him. He
to it like an ape, screaming. had seen his own fate! Von Kauptmann
Von Kauptmann stiffened, scowling, was still watching the dying man, a sar¬
with the hypodermic needle poised above donic smile on his thick lips.
Russ’s bare arm. Then he laid down the Russ seized the needle, and had an im¬
needle, jumping erect. pulse to dash it to the floor. How futile!
"Verdammte!” he roared. "Of what Von Kauptmann would merely substitute
use to me will a madman be? Leave this another needle. Then he saw the water
swine! We will attend him later!” —a chance! He swiftly squeezed the
The zombies left the cell, walking me¬ serum from the needle, and plunged the
chanically, and von Kauptmann hastily point into the pan of water. He sucked
locked the door. Relief surged over Russ the needle full, and emptied it in a dark
so quickly that his knees buckled. The comer of the cage. Now, surely, the
cracking of the other newcomer’s reason needle would be free of that deadly poi¬
gave him a few moments’ respite. But of son! Once more he filled it with water,
what use would it be to him? and then placed it on the floor of the cage
He noticed the hypodermic needle where von Kauptmann had left it.
containing the fiendish serum. If he could Presently von Kauptmann returned, un¬
drive that into von Kauptmann’s arm! No locked his cell, and ordered the zombies
hope of that! He would send the two to hold him. Russ stmggled with them
living dead men in first, and no needle to allay suspicion, but in a moment the
could hurt them! German had rolled up his sleeve, and in¬
Von Kauptmann had unlocked the door jected the needle into his arm. He felt
of the last cell, and had ordered the me¬ the pressure of the water in his blood, and
chanical men to seize the hapless aviator. then began to shake as he had seen the
He struggled with a madman’s strength, other man do.
but the two zombies held him, pinioned Von Kauptmann chuckled. "Another
him to the floor. servant for the Fatherland, ja?”
172 WEIRD TALES

Then he tossed a stool into the cage, They understood, subconsciously, that
and went away, leaving Towne and Braw- they fought a machine composed of crea¬
ley once more in their cages. tures who were, somehow, less than
Russ felt weak and sick. Whether it human.
was because of the presence of a fractional Russ saw that his only chance was to
drop of the poison in his system or be¬ imitate the zombies as far as possible.
cause of the hideous stench of dead Prolonging his imprisonment, he might
bodies, he did not know. find a means of escape! With this in
How was he any better off than these view, he began rubbing the dust from
corpses in this ghastly chamber of hor¬ his cell on his face, giving it a cadaver¬
rors? He was caged, and sooner or later ous appearance, creating an impression of
von Kauptmann would discover that he hollows beneath his cheek-bones which
was not dead. His second injection would did not actually exist. Then, by sitting
not be water! motionless on his stool in the shadows,
But the pattern of von Kauptmann’s he might escape detection for a few days.
fiendish scheme was slowly clarifying in Daylight, however, would reveal the
his mind. The German must have some truth.
means of turning out the beacons when
night landings were to be made at the E arly the next morning, von Kaupt¬
71st. Pilots would pass their drome, only mann came down the corridor be¬
to be drawn to this chateau by von Kaupt¬ tween the cells, chuckling to himself.
mann’s beacons. The drome here had Loathing for the man swept over Russ in
been deliberately laid out in similar de¬ seething waves as he sat motionless on
sign. his stool, his face in shadow, and his be¬
He could guess at the means by which grimed hands looking like claws due to
the German had come into possession of the outlining of dust. If von Kauptmann
the chateau. It was not hard to believe the had been mad, Russ might have forgiven
duke who had owned it had been mur¬ him. But he was not mad, unless a de¬
dered! Von Kauptmann and the few Ger¬ sire to serve the Fatherland by any means,
mans he had serving him must have been however foul, was madness. To him,
transported across the line by plane at this was an experiment in science, no less
night. useful in its way than poison gas and
Once the American pilots had been shrapnel.
taken prisoner, von Kauptmann had put Presently a big, blond man in Ameri¬
them under his power with his fiendish can lieutenant’s uniform descended the
serum. Thus he possessed the most dead¬ stairs. Lieutenant Clinton Creel! He
ly fighting machine in the world. Zom¬ clicked his heels sharply together before
bies could not fear death because they von Kauptmann, and saluted.
were already dead. They could be prey Von Kauptmann frowned. "Fool!” he
to none of the fears or misgivings of liv¬ roared in German. "Do you wish this
ing men. The most fearful odds meant Jagdstaffel to be found by Americans,
nothing to them. that you come here in broad daylight?”
Small wonder, then, that this Whirl¬ "I beg your pardon. Your Excellency,”
wind Flight had stricken terror and Creel said. "But Major Miller is like a
superstition into the hearts of men of the man out of his head on account of losing
71st and other squadrons along the front. Lieutenant Cameron. I sought to ease his
 DROME OF THE LIVING DEAD 173

anxiety by taking his car and a driver tery. His body tensed. They would have
and searching for the lieutenant’s plane to kill him before he would submit to an
to the north of the tarmac. I ordered the injection!
driver to stay with the car, and came by Von Kauptmann paused before his
a round-about route through the woods cell, key in hand.
searching for his plane. And I found "Bah!” he snorted. "I should waste
this drome, ja?” His smile was cruel. my precious serum on you! You had
"Speak, then,” von Kauptmann grunt¬ plenty not many hours ago!”
ed. "But be more careful in the future.” Von Kauptmann spoke to his zombie
"Your Excellency, at nine the swine slaves:
of the 71st are once more going to seek "You will follow the great Taube into
the Jagdstaffel of the Whirlwind Flight. battle and do honor to yourselves and the
Disappearance of Lieutenant Cameron Fatherland! You will fight whatever he
has aroused indignation to fever pitch.” leads you against.”
Von Kauptmann rubbed his pudgy They departed, but guards appeared
hands together. presently to release them from their cells.
"Ah, you bring us good news, Dizin- Russ’s brain raced. Should he strike
ger. Today we shall wipe out that squad¬ now? But the armed guards would shoot
ron to the last man, no?” him down if he attempted it. These
"For the glory of the Fatherland," robots would not help him.
said Creel, his eyes alight. The chance did not come. Before
Russ Cameron’s body shook with fury. Russ could form a plan, they had reached
What he wouldn’t have given for a blow the planes, and the zombies were mechan¬
at Creel’s bland face, to have his fingers ically climbing into the cockpits.
in Creel’s throat! Shaking with anger, Russ climbed into
Creel shortly took his leave, and von his Spad. Now it bore Boche insignia.
Kauptmann remained only a few minutes His prop was swung by a guard, and he
longer. He returned presently, however, revved up his bus savagely. Others did
with a flat-chested man in German avia¬ likewise; and finally the chocks were
tor’s uniform. Russ recognized the thin, kicked from under the wheels.
tight lips and the cruel, deep-set eyes of Taube eased forward on his stick,
the big, broken-nosed aviator. Taube, the roaring down the field into the teeth of
German ace! Russ had met him once in the wind. Two by two, the living dead
battle, and both had withdrawn with men followed their enemy — followed
conked engines. Now Taube led Ameri¬ like so many mechanical sheep a man
cans against Americans. Irony, that! they would gladly have killed when they
Taube carried a tray of small bottles, were alive. Lastly, alone, Russ trundled
covered with rubber stoppers through down the field, the end man on the right
which von Kauptmann plunged his nee¬ wing of the flight.
dle to suck up the serum. He went into Up, up, up they climbed, roaring
one cell after another, injecting the through a sea of clouds, submerged in
serum. mist, only to emerge into a clear sky at
Russ understood that it was somehow fifteen thousand feet. Russ’s mind was
necessary to charge the brain cells of the on escape. But Taube would not be long
living dead men with this serum as it discovering his absence, for he looked
was necessary to charge the cells of a bat¬ back frequently. If he vanished, the
174 WEIRD TALES

whole Whirlwind Flight would be after At that instant, Russ saw red. He
him, and he would lead this hornets’ nest knew these men followed Taube blindly,
to the 71st. that they might take as enemies anyone
Eastward they went, still climbing, acting against him. Something of this
with a glimpse of shell-gutted earth vis¬ machine, however, must break. Russ
ible only infrequently through the rifts could wait no longer.
in the sea of white. He side-slipped, feeding his Spad full
At eighteen thousand feet, they gun. Then he roared forward, straight
reached their ceiling, and Taube leveled for the tail of the diving German. Russ
out. Buzzing eastward, Russ saw a flight had never shot a man in the back before;
of German Fokkers winging westward, now, however, there was no other course.
far in the distance, and at the tip of the Taube’s plane was outlined against the
cloud bank. If Taube noticed his coun¬ hair-line of his ring-sight. Russ squeezed
trymen, he gave no signal. the trigger of his Vickers. Twin streams
t
of steel-jacketed lead lashed out, striking
S uddenly another group of planes the German’s back. He crumpled over
emerged from the clouds. The red, his stick, never knowing what had hap¬
white and blue cockade! Members of the pened. His plane went into a plunge,
71st. Russ Cameron’s rough-hewn body nose to earth, tail to the sky.
tensed, and his heart beat a little faster. Russ’s wild attack had carried him into
A Very-pistol flashed its signal. At¬ Taube’s position in the flight. Instinctive¬
tack! The Spads leveled out, roared for¬ ly he flinched. Bullets would soon be
ward, straight for the Fokker flight. tearing his body to ribbons! Moments
Vickers and Spandaus began interlac¬ crawled, and finally Russ turned. He
ing the intervening distance with bright shuddered as he saw the eyes of the
red-yellow ribbons as the opposing pilots corpses upon him—glassy, expressionless
opened fire. The clattering of madiine- eyes.
guns could be heard even above the roar¬ They told him nothing. But their fail¬
ing of the Hisso motors. Russ watched, ure to attack could mean but one thing.
his eyes bright and hard. He was now their leader! Incapable of
Taube half turned, a cruel smile play¬ more than the automatic action their
ing on his thin lips. He gave a signal training in flying had given them, they
which seemed to register on the eyes of could not do anything save obey some
die living corpses, reaching their brain thinking leader. Russ was that leader!
cells as electrical impulses travel to a A wave of exultation flowed over him.
machine. The nose of his plane dipped. His was the command of the most deadly
Down he went, his motor wailing. And fighting machine on the western front!
behind him followed the Americans, The Germans would taste their own
only one of whom was aware of the hor¬ medicine!
rible thing they were about to do. Russ pulled back on his stick slightly,
Russ, his eyes twitching with anger, his eyes hardening. The men of the 71st
knew Taube’s plan. Taube struck the had not yet seen the Whirlwind Flight.
American flight from behind, while they Russ nosed down toward the Fokkers,
were occupied with the German Fokkers. passed them. Then, bringing his nose up
The German’s claw-like hand reached for sharply, he accomplished a reversal by
the stick-trigger of his machine-gun. means of an Immelmann turn. Like au-
 DROME OF THE LIVING DEAD 175

tomatons, the corpses executed the ma¬ Russ gave his signal, and zoomed.
neuver with him. When they came The Yank leader started to pursue, then
about, they were roaring down on the dropped back. It was impossible for
tails of the black-cross planes. him to attack a flight which had saved
The Yanks saw them, then. Con¬ his life, even though that flight bore
sternation must have filled their souls. black crosses. He waved, and presently
The momentary paralysis which gripped his flight vanished in the sea of clouds.
them alone saved Russ. "Now what?” Russ asked himself. "If
I return to the 71st, this legion of corpses
Guns bickering, he roared down on
will follow, and destroy everything in
the tails of the Fokkers. One plane was
their path. Not even the 71st could
dead-centered in his ring-sight. Russ
kicked left—then right-rudder—raking escape! But if I return to von Kaupt-

the plane with a cross-fire. Smoke curled mann, I’ll chance being discovered. At

up from the Fokker in black tendrils the very least, I’ll be thrown into a cell.”
Even those alternatives seemed prefer¬
which were instantly pierced with dart¬
able to risking the lives of his comrades
ing tongues of flame.
at the 71st. Reluctantly, Russ returned
The other members of the Whirlwind
Flight slashed into the battle with the with the machine.

same deadly fury. Fokkers were being

raked fore and aft. Pilots crumpled over
W hen he landed, von Kauptmann
strode angrily toward them. Russ
sticks or tried to climb out of the devas¬
tating streams of incendiary-sprinkled carefully fell in behind several of the

lead. taller men; daylight was too revealing.

But as they started to climb, the be¬ Von Kauptmann snorted: "Taube
wildered Yank pilots acted. The noses gone! Verdammte! It is evil luck!” But
of their planes lifted. They zoomed after suddenly his face brightened. "Perhaps
the fleeing Fokkers, driving in burst after I have a greater machine than I realized
burst of screaming lead. if it is capable of going into battle and
From odds-against them, the odds now returning without a leader! Ach! no
favored them. They must have felt there longer will I need that dope-fiend,
was a mistake which would be quickly Taube!”
rectified when the Whirlwind Flight Chuckling to himself and rubbing his
realized what they were doing. But they soft hands together with satisfaction, von
took advantage of what they believed to Kauptmann had the guards return them
be an error. to their cages. Russ Cameron saw no
Thrust between two such deadly fires, chance to escape.
the Fokkers were doomed. Below them But when he was once more the sole
were the Yanks; above, the Whirlwind living man in that chamber of the dead,
machine. One plane after another broke Russ began pacing his cell impatiently.
into flames. Bullets wrecked and slashed Creel would soon find some means of
and tore the German ships to ribbons. reporting what had really happened.
Russ saw a second pilot fall dead under Von Kauptmann would return to the
his withering fire. Then a third. . . . cages with a better light. It would not
The red haze which had swum before require long for hirn to discover the one
his eyes began clearing. Only one Ger¬ living man—and Russ would not be liv¬
man pilot left, and he streaked for home. ing long!
176 WEIRD TALES

A guard came to the corridor, and of the German and saw the gun flashing
released Brawley. Then he unlocked toward him, he thrust the big head swift¬
Towne’s cage. Russ’s heart beat fast as ly toward the stone flooring. The crunch
the guard paused before his own cell. of the German’s skull made him shiver—
Von Hauptmann was using these zom¬ but the gun did not explode.
bies for some work or other. If Russ Meanwhile Towne and Brawley had
could but secure his release! One man stood like statues, taking no part in the
against one man! affair.
And then Russ’s pulses began pound¬ Russ seized the guard’s keys, hastily
ing as the guard began unlocking his unlocking one cell after another until he
cage. It was an effort to keep his facial was surrounded by living corpses. Then
muscles under control, to sit motionless he picked up the Luger, and turned to
while his chance was coming. the men.
Outside, he heard the drone of an air¬ "Follow me,” he commanded them.
plane motor, the whine as it dived. He "Seize the guns of men who try to op¬
knew as well as if he could see that Creel pose you. Obey no one but me! Now—
was making the pretense of looking for forward!”
the Whirlwinds so that he could com¬ Von Kauptmann was bellowing or¬
municate with von Kauptmann. In a ders. There was a clamor above, then the
moment, his chance would be gone. The sound of many footsteps, as men de¬
guard hesitated, listening. Russ’s heart scended the stairs.
was in his throat. Russ sprang toward the entrance of the
And then the key turned! dungeon, Luger in hand.
"Come out,” the guard grunted. A guard came into view. His rifle spat
Russ rose stiffly, and walked stiff-legged flame, and a bullet pinged from one of
until he was a foot from the guard. the cages. Before he could fire again,
Then the big German’s mouth opened Russ’s Luger cracked.
as he detected a false note in Russ’s dis¬ The guard stumbled and fell. Russ
guise—he was breathing. paused only long enough to toss the rifle
Before the guard could utter a sound, to Brawley.
Russ sprang. His fingers closed on the Three more guards were just behind
German’s fleshy throat, shutting off all the fallen German. They blazed away.
sound. But he was a big fellow, and Bullets whistled and whined above Russ’s
Russ was weak from lack of food. The head.
German rolled him over, clawing for his He dropped another man. Brawley
gun. Desperate as the Luger came out rushed forward, his rifle spitting lead.
of the German’s holster, Russ rolled him The two remaining guards died before
over on that side. There was no time for they could fire second shots.
the niceties of fighting. "Seize their weapons!” Russ shouted
With sinking heart, he heard Creel’s hoarsely at the zombies, as he leapt over
excited voice somewhere above and von the bodies.
Kauptmann's bellow of rage. A shot Another German descending the stairs
from this guard would be his end. But aimed point-blank. Lead ricocheted from
if he could gain a few moments, he had a the stone walls. Russ brought his gun
chance. crashing down on the man’s head. He
That was why, as he came over on top could hear the German’s skull crack.
.W. T,—2
 DROME OF THE LIVING DEAD 177,

Up the stairs Russ ran, the Americans squeezing the trigger. But fear of the
dose on his heels. The Whirlwind Flight grisly legion of the dead racing toward
was still the most deadly fighting machine him made his hand shake. Lead whined
in the world. But it was not von Kaupt- in Russ Cameron’s ear as he bounded up
mann’s to command. The baron might the stairs.
change that, given the chance, but Russ Von Kauptmann was shouting at the
was determined he would meet the Ger¬ zombies to stop. They could not hear
man first. him yet above the cracking of Creel’s
He could hear men running *ahead, spitting gun. Russ’s fingers itched for
realizing they faced death on the stairs the traitor’s throat — but it was von
from a group of zombies who could not Kauptmann he must reach first, von
be killed. Their destruction could be Kauptmann he must silence before he
wrought only by the difficult head-shot lost control of the machine.
which would destroy the brain cells "Creel!” Russ screamed hoarsely. "Kill
directing them. Creel, men!”
Russ came upon a straggler who had He raised his automatic, squeezed the
stumbled. Wild-eyed, the man sprang to trigger. A sharp dick. Empty! Creel
his feet, his gun exploding. Powder turned his gun away from Russ, aiming
seared Russ Cameron’s cheek, and he at the oncoming horde, his eyes wide
squeezed the trigger of his gun. The with horror. Von Kauptmann pointed
German’s body sagged. Russ picked up his weapon at the American leader. Russ
his weapon as he bounded up the stairs. hurled his empty weapon, striking von
Above, von Kauptmann’s roaring Kauptmann’s right arm. The Luger flew
voice: from the German’s hand. He stooped
"Go down those stairs, you swine! for it. . . .
Fire at their heads! I’ll kill the man who Russ threw himself at the legs of the
hesitates.” leaning man, and they went down to¬
A shot echoed from the walls as if to gether. Von Kauptmann struck at his
emphasize his words. The guards could face with a pudgy fist. The American’s
be heard clumping down again. hand clutched at the German’s throat.
And then a rushing tide struck him, and
R uss met them at the second landing. he felt a damp, icy hand slide past his
. Bullets swirling about him, he face. The hand of the dead!
rushed toward them. Lead seared his Von Kauptmann was free for a mo¬
shoulder, but he ran on. Clubbing with ment, groping for the gun. Russ got to
his automatic, he beat down a guard his knees, and then was hurled violently
about to fire. The living-dead men, with against von Kauptmann. He heard a
the gray, waxen countenances of corpses, piercing scream—Creel’s voice. He could
surged forward, firing with deadly ac¬ not turn—with von Kauptmann’s fingers
curacy. The guards melted under their groping for the gun.
fire. Russ’s hands closed on yielding flesh.
Picking up an automatic which had A blindness of rage made the world spin
fallen, Russ took the stairs two steps at around him. Von Kauptmann, who had
a time. Half-way up the last flight, he created these ghastly creatures from men
met Creel and von Kauptmann. Russ had known! The German fought,
The German spy raised his automatic, but Russ was scarcely aware of the hands
178 WEIRD TALES

clutching and clawing madly at him. Returned to their graves, a deadly

His fingers grew damp with blood, fighting machine would be lost! Why
ached from the strain. And a boiling not turn the hellish machine once more
surge of exultation swept over him as he against the people who had devised it?
felt von Kauptmann’s body relax. The Why not let these zombies leave earth
screams echoing through the stone halls fighting?
only made him press the harder. "Fuel busses, men,” Russ ordered
Then, slowly, the madness passed, them. "We're taking off directly.”
leaving him sick with loathing at what he The corpses obeyed. Mechanically,
had done. Russ reeled to his feet, gazing they fueled planes and placed them on
with a horrible fascination at the grisly the dead-line under Russ’s direction.
creature who lay dead at his feet. Von When all were ready, Russ took his posi¬
Kauptmann! Shuddering, he turned his tion at the point of the V-flight, and
eyes away, only to encounter a sight which taxied down the field.
made his backbone crawl. Creel—he had Not until they had crossed the Ger¬
forgotten! man lines did they meet a German patrol
But the zombies had remembered. —three wings flying in formation. Ter¬
Expressionless, with glistening eyes, they rific odds! But what did odds mean to
were tearing and rending a bloody, mis¬ dead men? Only to Russ could it matter.
shapen thing. Creel! Life remained in
that gory bundle of rags? It must!
the thing at which the zombies were tear¬
For T he details of that fight were never
quite clear in Russ’s mind. It came
ing and mauling like vultures over a kill back in nightmares, and he would awake
was still screaming in a way that froze with his body wringing wet, and his eyes
Russ’s heart. He had heard the fright¬ wide with horror, staring at blackness.
ful screams of pilots being burned alive But before he awoke, he would experi¬
in flaming planes—but nothing like this! ence again some of those moments which
Sick and nauseated, Russ picked up had branded his subconscious mind with
the gun von Kauptmann had tried to sights and smells and sounds unforget¬
reach, and fired three shots at the quiv¬ table.
ering thing these incredible creatures Bickering guns, cracking planes, bel¬
mauled. Convulsive movements shook lowing motors. Screams from dying
the tormented body, and then Russ Germans which rose above the shrieking
hoarsely ordered the zombies to stand at of diving, darting planes.
attention. Then he made an inspection A machine which followed his every
of the chateau and hangars. No one! move. Glittering eyes registered his
Guards and mechanics must have served movements on the serum-drugged brains,
in double capacity. and the robot flight responded. They
Now what would he do with these smashed up one wing, scattered it. And
zombies? Von Kauptmann could have then the Germans broke formation, each
told him—but he was dead. Placing a singly bearing down on members of the
gun at their heads and destroying their Whirlwind Flight. But what could
brains would have permitted them to re¬ humans do against that grisly legion?
turn to their graves. But that he could Zombies’ planes caught fire, and still
not do—these men who had once been the dead men followed Russ, staring
his friends. Another idea! fixedly through walls of flame, and fight-
 DROME OF THE LIVING DEAD 179

ing until the planes disintegrated and Only when he awoke, his body shak¬
dropped horribly-charred bodies through ing, did he remember the end: how he
the clouds. had landed the plane bearing the Ger¬
Brawley’s ship burst into flames. Yet man insignia on his home drome by div¬
he still sat at the controls, his hand on ing through a hail of anti-aircraft fire;
his machine-gun trigger, frozen-faced as and how, with glazed eyes, he had told
a statue. A Fokker staggered under his Major Miller of those things which he
fire, and went plunging to destruction. could scarcely bring himself to believe.
Even flames could not break his ma¬ "Leave it to me,” the C. O. had said
chine! It was invincible while fabric and gently. "I’ll recommend you for a Dis¬
machinery would hold together—an in¬ tinguished Service Medal—and there’s
vincible armada of the skies! But one by no chance in the world you won’t get it,
one the corpses were released from their after destroying that Whirlwind Fiight.
bondage, their heads riddled with bullets, But how you destroyed it and who com¬
or their bodies blackened with flames. posed that flight—well, I believe you be¬
Russ remembered in those nightmares cause there’s nothing else this side of hell
that they fought what seemed endless which could account for that Flight.
years, while one after another dropped But we’ll have to have another story for
out of his squadron; fought until only he the brass hats!”
and two Germans remained, and, as if The horror had slowly left Russ
both were sickened by the carnage, Cameron’s eyes.
turned away and limped home. "That’s best,” he had agreed.

By LEONA AMES HILL

I shall go lonely, bid farewell to light,

And wander through the fields a subtle ghost,
Seeking the shuddering pathway of the night
Back to the land I knew and loved the most.

And should you whom I loved most seek me there,

A dark leaf shaken from an autumn tree
By wind that drifts across the moonlit air
Will be the clear sign you shall have from me.
 Vhe
lack Orchid
By SEABURY QUINN

An eery mystery tale of a botanical monstrosity from Madagascar—a

tale of Jules de Grandin

U NDER the combined influence of

an excellent dinner and two
rhage exhaustion, and as there was no
sign of external blood escape, I natural¬
ounces of 1845 cognac our guest ly suspected carcinoma and internal
became expansive. "D’ye know,” he told bleeding, but when I tested him I found
us as he passed the brandy sniffer be¬ there was no trace of it. There he was,
neath his nose, inhaling the fruity fra¬ with no wound or lesion—absolutely no
grance of the ancient liqueur, "I believe way by which he could have lost a tea¬
I’ve run across a new disease.” spoonful of blood—bleeding to death
"Ah?” murmured Jules de Grandin progressively. I put him on a blood-pro¬
courteously, casting a quick wink in my ducing diet, fed him wine and iron and
direction. "You interest me, Monsieur. liver enough to fill a fair-sized ware¬
What are the symptoms of this hitherto house, but every morning he showed
unknown disorder?” fresh evidences of prostration till I had
Young Doctor Traherne beamed upon to fall back on glucose injections, and
us genially. When one is barely thirty, finally resorted to transfusions.”
fresh from his internship and six months’ De Grandin’s interest showed more
study in Vienna, there is a spice in being than merely formal courtesy as Traherne
told that your discoveries interest physi¬ finished his description.
cians who were practising when you were "And when did this one die?” he
in the cradle. "It’s a—a bloodless asked, a sudden cutting-edge of sharp¬
hemorrhage,” he confided. ness in his voice.
De Grandin’s narrow brows receded "He didn’t,” answered Traherne with
nearly half an inch toward the line of his a grin. "Just by luck I hit upon the
sleekly brushed blond hair. "Pardonnez- idea of a cruise—thought he might as
moi, Monsieur,” he begged. "I fear I do well pass out with a ship’s doctor in
not understand the English fluently. You attendance as to have me sign the death
said—perhaps I did not hear it right?—• certificate—so I shipped him off on a
that you had found a bloodless hemor¬ Caribbean trip. He was back in ninety
rhage?” days, hale and hearty as ever, without a
Traherne applied a match to his cigar sign of the strange condition which had
and chuckled. nearly caused his death.”
"That’s it, sir,” he answered. "Six "Eh bien, you are to be congratu¬
months ago they called me to attend old lated,” said the Frenchman with a smile.
Mr. Sorensen. At first I thought he suf¬ "Our trade is one part science and the
fered from anemia, but a check-up on other nine parts luck, n’est-ce-pas?”
his blood convinced me the trouble was "But here’s the funny part,” Traherne
more quantitative than qualitative. The replied. "Sorensen’s been home just six
man showed every evidence of hemor- weeks, and he’s got it again. Not only
180
 THE BLACK ORCHID 181

that, his niece, who lives with him, has the other a young woman in her early
it too, and her condition’s even worse twenties, and for no apparent reason
than his. Hanged if I can figure it. they both begin to show positively de¬
Whatever influence has caused this con¬ fined symptoms of extensive hemorrhage
dition has undoubtedly been the same in without a sign of bleeding. They re¬
both cases—the symptoms are so exactly spond to conventional treatment for loss
similar, but there’s absolutely no normal of blood, but lapse into hemorrhage
or apparent explanation for it. Think of prostration almost overnight. If I were
it, gentlemen. Here are two people, one a Negro or a back-county Pennsylvanian
a man near eighty, but remarkably vigor¬ I’d say it was a case of voodoo curse or
ous and well preserved, without a single hexing, but being a physician and a man
trace of degenerative disease of any sort, of science I can only conclude these peo-
182 WEIRD TALES

pie are victims of some strange and as He had fought in Egypt, China, the
yet unclassified disease. Quite probably Levant, in India and the troubled Bal¬
it’s contagious, too, since the niece ap¬ kans, as well as over every foot of Cen¬
pears to have contracted it by contact tral America. Serving with the Cubans
•with the uncle.” under Garcia, he left the island as a
"H’m,” de Grandin murmured thought¬ brigadier general of ihsurrectos, his
fully. "Has it occurred to you, mon col- pockets lined with fat commissions from
legue, that the evil which attacks these Americans who had seen the wisdom of
two is really old as Egypt’s mighty pyra¬ buying what they wanted. As a com¬
mids or Babylon’s tall temples?” mandant of Boer cavalry he had thriftily
"Oh, you mean some old disease which secured enough rough diamonds to make
ravaged ancient peoples and has passed the unsuccessful war the Dutchmen
out of medical memory, like the Black waged a most remunerative enterprise
Death of medieval Europe?” for him; the loot of half a dozen Span¬
"Precisement, the blackest of black ish cities near the Caribbean Sea had
deaths, my friend.” somehow found its way into his pocket,
"You know about it—you’ve seen such whether he had served the Government
cases?” young Traherne asked, a shade of or revolutionary forces.
disappointment in his voice. He looked the part which Fate had cast
"I would not say that,” de Grandin him for. Over six feet tall and propor¬
answered. "I have observed such symp¬ tionately broad, his prominent cheek¬
toms, not once, but many times, but only bones and narrow face bespoke his
fools attempt a diagnosis at long dis¬ Viking ancestry, as did his fair skin and
tance. I should greatly like to have the light eyes. His face was tanned to the
chance to see the victims of this so strange shade of unstained oak by long exposure
illness. Could you arrange an inter¬ to the tropic sun, tiny wrinkles splayed
view?” out from the comers of his eyes, and a
"Why, yes,” the other smiled. "I’m white crescent of scar-tissue outlined the
going to drop by Sorensen’s house to¬ path of an old knife or spear wound
night, just to see that everything is from right eye to temple.
going smoothly. Would you care to Even without having seen the man be¬
come along?” fore, I realized he was little better than
a wraith of his former self. Violet half¬
O scar sorensen was one of those moons underneath his eyes, a waxen pal¬
unusual characters found in many lor underlying the sunburn of his face
of the small, submetropolitan communi¬ and the pinched look of distress about
ties which fringe New York. Almost his nose all testified eloquently to the
eighty years of age, he had served a sudden weakness which had fallen on
rigorous apprenticeship as soldier of for¬ him.
tune, and, unlike most of that breed, he "I’ve heard of you, de Grandin,” he
had succeeded. Late in life he retired acknowledged as Doctor Traherne fin¬
from service to a half-score countries ished introductions, "and I think it’s
with military decorations enough to deco¬ time we had you in for consultation. I’ve
rate an army corps and a fortune more been telling myself that what was wrong
than large enough to let him end the with me was nothing but a fresh recur¬
quiet close of his eventful life in luxury. rence of malaria, but all along I knew
 THE BLACK ORCHID 183

that it was nothing for a sawbones’ treat¬ "Parbleu, but you have right, my
ment. You’re a ghost-fighter, aren’t you? friend,” de Grandin nodded in agree¬
Good. I’ve got a ghost for you to fight, ment. "The dwellers in the silent places,
and it’ll take the best you’ve got to whip they know these things; they have not
it, too!” forgotten; they remember, and they
The little Frenchman raised his nar¬ know. Me-”
row, high-arched brows a trifle. "A ghost. "Excuse me,” Traherne cut in dryly,
Monsieur?” he countered. "But Doctor "I hate to interrupt these reminiscences,
Traherne informs us that-” but would you mind telling Doctor de
"Excuse me,” cut in Sorensen, "but Grandin about the onset of your illness,
this is no matter for scientific specula¬ Mr. Sorensen?”
tion, I’m afraid. Of course Traherne in¬ The old man looked at him much as
forms you it’s some strange form of an annoyed adult might regard the im¬
anemia we’re suffering from. You’re a pertinent interruption of a child. "You’ve
doctor, too; but you’ve traveled. You’ve been in Madagascar?” he demanded of de
seen things outside the dissecting-rooms Grandin.
and clinics and laboratories. Listen: "But naturally,” the little Frenchman
"You’ve been in savage countries; you answered. "And you, Monsieur?”
know there’s something to the power that "I was there with Gallieni in 1895,
the native witches claim. Here in civiliza¬ serving as sous-lieutenant of chasseurs,
tion, with gas to cook our food and elec¬ later as commandant of a detail of native
tricity to light us on our way to bed, guides. It was while serving with my de¬
we’ve forgotten all the old-time powers tachment that I met Mamba. She was
of the witch, so we say there never was the daughter of an Andriana, or noble,
any such thing, and brand belief in it as family, distantly related to Ranavalona,
superstition. Vdgame Dios,” he swore the native queen just deposed by the
in Spanish, "those who’ve traveled the French. Her skin was black as a minor-
remote spots of the world know what is ca’s wing, with a blue, almost iridescent
so and what is superstition. In Polynesia sheen; her features were small and deli¬
I’ve seen men—whites as well as natives cate, her body as beautiful as anything
—shrivel and die by inches just because ever chiseled out of marble in the Peri-
some native witch-doctor prayed them to dean age. She had tremendous influence
death. On the African West Coast I’ve not only with the Hova, or middle-class
seen owls, owls large as eagles, perch in natives, but with the Andriana as well;
trees by villages, and next day some for she was reputedly a witch and priest¬
dweller in the settlement would die in ess of ‘the Fragrant One’, and a word
frightful pain. I’ve seen Papuan wizards from her would bring any native, noble
dance around their night-fires till the or commoner, from miles around crawl¬
spirits of the dead came back—yes, by ing on his belly to lick her tiny, coal-
Heaven, with my own eyes I saw my black feet, or send him charging down
mother, lying twenty years and more in upon French infantry, though he knew
her grave out there in St. Stephen’s sure death awaited from our chassepots
churchyard, stand across a Dyak camp¬ and Gatling guns.
fire from me while a native sorcerer "It was good politics to cultivate her
danced about the flames to the rhythm of friendship, and not at all unpleasant, I
a tom-tom!” assure you. We were married in due
184 WEIRD TALES

state, and I was formally invested with you most adore shall waste and wither in
all the rights and dignities of an Andri- your sight, yet you shall have no power
ana noble of the highest caste. Things to stay the doom which crushes her and
went smoothly at our outpost after that, which shall crush you, too, when she is
till-” he paused, and for a moment gone. I have said.’ ”
closed his eyes as though in weariness.
"Yes, Monsieur, and then?” de Gran- Y oung Doctor Traherne coughed.
din prompted as the silence lengthened. His manner was discreet, but none

Sorensen seemed to wake up with a too patient, as he asked, "And you think

start. "Then I heard how things were this black woman’s curse responsible for
your condition, sir?”
going over in the Caribbean, and decided
to resign my commission with the French "I don’t know,” Sorensen answered
and try my luck with Cuba Libre,” he re¬ slowly. “In China they’ve a saying that
turned. the three things which age can’t soften
"Mamba didn’t make a scene. Indeed, are a sword, a stone and the hatred of a
she took it more calmly than most civil¬ love-crossed woman. Mamba-”
ized women would have done. It had "Has probably been dead for twenty
never occurred to her that our little do¬ years,” Traherne supplied. "Besides,
mestic arrangement wasn’t permanent; there’s half the earth between you,
so when I told her I’d been ordered away and-”
she merely said that she would govern in "Listen, son,” Sorensen broke in, 'Tve
my place till my return and take good been deluding myself into thinking it
care 'our people’ gave no trouble to the was a nightmare which I suffered from—
French. Then, like a fool, I told her I possibly the prickings of a guilty con¬
was through. science—and that my subsequent illness
"For a moment she looked as though was merely a coincidence, but I’m far
she hadn’t understood me; then, when from certain, now. Here’s what hap¬
the meaning of my words sank in, she pened just before we called you in:
was awful in her anger. No tears, no "I’d been trap-shooting over at the
wailing, just a long and dreadful stare, a Gun and Rod Club, and came home
stare that seemed to strike right through thoroughly tired out. Joyce and I had
me and to shrivel everything it touched. dinner early and I went off to bed almost
Finally she raised both hands above her as soon as the meal was over, falling
head and called down such a curse on me asleep immediately. How long I slept
as no man has had heaped upon his head I’ve no idea, but I remember waking
since Medea called the vengeance of the with a feeling of suffocation—no pain,
gods on Jason. She finished with the but utter weakness and prostration—to
prophecy: see something hovering above my throat
" 'At the last you shall feel Mamba’s and to smell a smell I hadn’t smelled in
kiss, and your blood shall waste and dry years, the hot, half-spicy, half-charnel
away as the little brooks in summer, yet odor of the Madagascar jungle. I can’t
no man shall see you bleed; your life describe the thing that hovered over me,
shall slowly ebb away as the tide ebbs for the darkness of the room and its very
from the shore, and none shall give you nearness obscured my vision, but I had
help; flowers shall feed upon your body an unaccountable but powerful impres¬
while you are still alive, and the thing sion that it was a small, black, naked
 THE BLACK ORCHID 185

human figure, the figure of a nude black "I don’t remember a recurrence of the
woman a scant four inches high, which dream, but every morning for a week I
poised in midair over me as a humming¬ rose from heavy sleep not only not re¬
bird poises above the flower from which freshed by rest, but successively and pro¬
it drains the nectar. How long I lay gressively weaker. Finally we called Doc¬
there in that helpless sort of lethargy tor Traherne. He’s probably outlined his
I’ve no idea; but suddenly I became treatment to you.”
aware of a feeling like a pulling at my "You agree I took the proper meas¬
throat and Mamba’s prophecy came back ures?” Traherne asked. "We had this
to me across the years; 'Your blood condition entirely arrested; then-”
shall waste and dry up as the little "Precisement," de Grandin nodded,
brooks in summer!’
"that is a most unusual feature of the
"Gentlemen, I assure you I was para¬ case, my friend; that and the nature of
lyzed. Fear held me more firmly than a Monsieur Sorensen’s wound.”
chain. Move I could not, nor could I cry "Oh, Lord!” young Traherne scoffed.
for help. Then I think I must have "Are you finding a connection between
fainted, for the next thing I knew it was that accidental scratch and this inex¬
morning. plicable pathological condition? What
"Weakness almost overpowered me possible-”
when I tried to rise, but finally I man¬ "But the wound is constant, is it not?”
aged to crawl from bed and stagger over de Grandin insisted. "It is still there?
to the mirror. There was no blood on my Either it or a freshly inflicted one re¬
pajamas, nor any on my flesh, but on my mains, n’est-ce-pas?”
throat there was a little wound, no larger "Ye-es,” Traherne admitted grudging¬
than a needle-jab or razor-nick would ly. "But I’ve never tried to heal it.
make, and-” Even if it is significant, it’s nothing but
"Tell me, Monsieur," de Grandin in¬ a symptom, and one doesn’t bother to
terrupted, "this wound of which you treat symptoms.”
speak, was it singular or plural?” De Grandin faced Sorensen. "Your
“Eh? Oh, I see what you mean. It niece, Mademoiselle Joyce, she displays
was a single little puncture, so small as to symptoms similar to those you first ex¬
be barely noticeable, and with no area of hibited?” he asked.
inflammation or soreness round it. At “Yes,” the other answered. "I’ll send
any other time I should have failed to see for her, if you wish.” He pressed a but¬
it, I believe, but the vividness of my ton, and when a small, exceedingly neat
nightmare made me especially careful and almost startlingly black servant ap¬
when I looked.” peared in answer to the summons, or¬
"But this is most unusual,” the little dered: "Ask Miss Joyce to come to the
Frenchman murmured. "Those punc¬ library, please, Marshall.”
tures, they should be multiple.” "Would you object to showing us your
"What’s that?” throat while we are waiting for your
"Nothing of importance, I assure you. niece to join us?” asked de Grandin.
I did but indulge in a foolish habit and "Not at all,” the other answered, and
think with my lips rather than my brain, undoing the collar of his soft silk shirt
Monsieur. Please be so kind as to pro¬ laid bare a strongly modeled and well-
ceed.” muscled neck.
186 WEIRD TALES

The little Frenchman leant forward, effort cost her almost every ounce of
scanned the patient’s sunburned skin hoarded strength, and when she spoke
with a keen gaze, then, drawing a small her voice was low, partly from the natural
lens from his pocket, held it before his softness of its timbre, but more, it seemed
eye as he pursued the examination. to me, from an extremity of fatigue.
"Here, Monsieur?” he asked, laying "Will you tell Doctor de Grandin
the tip of a small, well-manicured fore¬ about your illness, dear?” Sorensen asked,
finger on Sorensen’s neck a little to the his hard blue eyes softening with affec¬
right and above the Adam’s apple. "Is tion as he looked at her. "Doctor Tra¬
this the place you first observed the herne thinks possibly Doctor de Grandin
wound?” and Doctor Trowbridge may have come
"Yes, and that’s the spot where it re¬ across something like it in their prac¬
appeared when I was taken ill again,” tise.”
Sorensen answered. Joyce Sorensen shuddered as though a
“H’m,” the Frenchman murmured. chilly wind had suddenly blown across
"It is, as you have said, a single wound her shoulders, and her thin hands clasped
striking directly into the skin, not loop¬ together in her lap in a gesture that
ing through it. It might be from a razor seemed to entreat mercy from fate.
cut or from a variety of other rea- "Everything, Uncle Oscar?” she asked
softly.
"Yes, and it wasn’t there before my "Of course.”
first illness; it disappeared when I re¬ "I recall my uncle’s first attack per¬
covered, and it reappeared concurrently fectly,” she began, not looking at us, but
with my second attack,” Sorensen broke fixing a half-vacant, half-pleading gaze
in. upon a miniature of the Madonna which
"Precisely, exactly; quite so,” de Gran- hung upon the farther wall. “He’d been
din agreed with a quick nod. "There is out shooting that afternoon and went to
some connection between the puncture bed almost immediately after dinner. I
and your trouble, Monsieur, I am con¬ had a theater engagement, and went to
vinced of it, but the explanation does not the Pantoufle Doree to dance afterward.
leap to the eye. We shall have to think It must have been about one o’clock when
of this. If-” I came home. Marshall, the butler, was
in bed, of course, so I let myself in and
A rustle at the doorway cut his con¬
versation short as a young girl
went up to kiss Uncle Oscar good-night
before going to my own room. Just as I
entered. She was tall and very slender, reached his door I heard him cry out, not
exceedingly fair-skinned, with a wealth loudly, but terribly. It sounded some¬
of yellow hair which she wore coiled thing like the screaming laughs maniacs
simply in a figure 8 at the nape of her give in melodramatic motion pictures—
neck. Her nose and mouth were small it seemed to spout up like a dreadful
and very finely molded, and her brown geyser of insane fear, then died away to
eyes seemed out of all proportion to her a kind of gurgling, choking murmur, like
other features, for they were almost start¬ water running down a drain, or a man
lingly enlarged by the deep violet semi¬ fighting desperately for breath.
circles which lay beneath them. She "I tried his door and it was locked—
walked slowly, haltingly, as though the I’m sure of that. Then in terror I ran up
 THE BLACK ORCHID 187

to Marshall’s room and beat upon his There was something pleading, fright¬
door, calling out that Uncle Oscar was ened, timidly beseeching, in the eyes that
dying; but he gave no answer, so I ran never strayed from his as she undid the
back to the library and snatched a sword fastenings of her robe and bared a bosom
down from the wall-” She nodded to slim as Shakespeare’s Juliet’s, pointing
a row of brackets where mementoes of out a tiny depression which lay against
Sorensen’s grim fighting years were dis¬ the milk-white skin an inch or so below
played. "I was determined to force the the gentle swelling of the small and
lock with the blade,” she went on, "but pointed breast.
when I reached my uncle’s room again "Ah?” de Grandin murmured as he
the door was partly open! finished his inspection. "Trowbridge, if
"Uncle Oscar lay upon his bed, the you please, come here and tell me what
covers pushed to the floor, his hands it is you see.”
flexed and his fingers digging into the He passed his glass to me and, obedi¬
mattress. His pajama jacket was open at ent to his pointing finger, I fixed my
the throat, and on the white skin of his glance upon the girl’s pale skin. Piercing
neck, just below the line of tan, there directly downward was a tiny punctured
was a little spot of blood, no larger than wound, semilunar in shape and less than
a pin-head. an eighth of.an inch in length. There
"I hurried back to Marshall’s room, was no area of inflammation round it;
and this time he heard me right away. indeed, the lips of the small aperture
Together we got my uncle back beneath seemed wholly bloodless, like those of a
the covers and made him comfortable. I stab-wound inflicted on a corpse.
spoke to him and he answered sleepily, "There is soreness?” asked the French¬
assuring me he was all right; so I assumed man, gently touching the skin above the
he must have had a nightmare and wound.
thought no more about it. It wasn't till "None at all,” the girl replied.
progressive weakness made it impossible "And blood?”
for him to rise that we became worried "A little, sometimes. Some mornings
and called in Doctor Traherne.” I wake feeling really rested from my
As she finished her recital de Grandin sleep. On these mornings the wound
rose and leant above her. "Pardonnez- seems nearly healed. Other times I am so
moi, Mademoiselle," he begged, "but weak I can scarcely leave my bed, and
have you, too, by any chance, a stubborn I’ve noticed that at such times there is a
so small wound which gives no pain, but little smear of blood—oh, not more than
which will not heal? You have noted a single drop, and that a very small one
something of the kind upon your throat?” —on my skin.”
The quick blood dyed her face and "Thank you, Mademoiselle,” de Gran¬
forehead faintly as she turned startled din nodded absently, his lips, beneath
eyes upon him. "Not on my throat, sir,” his trimly waxed mustache, slightly
she answered softly, "here.” pursed, as though he were about to whis¬
She laid her hand upon her breast tle. “Tell us, if you please, have you been
above the heart. troubled with unpleasant dreams, like
"Eh, death of the devil, do you say that which plagued Monsieur your
so?” he exclaimed; then, very gently: unde?”
"And may we see, Mademoiselle?” "Why, no; that is, I can’t remember
 WEIRD TALES

any,” she replied, "Indeed, I’m per¬ "First I advise that you secure a corps
fectly all right, except for this great of nurses, nurses you can trust implicitly.
weakness. Do you know what the disease Have one in attendance on Monsieur
is. Doctor? Doctor Traherne thinks it may Sorensen and another on his niece at
be caused by some strange germ-” every moment of the day and night.”
"I make no doubt that he is right,” the "O. K.,” Traherne agreed, "I’ve been
little Frenchman answered. "A most thinking of that. They’re both too weak
strange germ, Mademoiselle. A very to be about. Bed-rest is bound to help
strange germ, indeed.” them. What next?”
"I suggest that you secure a generous
“ITTell,” Traherne asked as we left supply of ail—how do you say him?
▼V the house after bidding Sorensen garlic?—allium sativum in the pharma¬
and his niece good-night, “what d’ye copeia—and have it liberally distributed
make of it, gentlemen? Have either of at all entrances and exits of their rooms.
you ever seen anything resembling that See, too, that their windows are kept en¬
condition, or-’’ tirely closed, and that all animals are
"I have,” de Grand in broke in short¬ rigorously excluded from their presence.”
ly. "On several occasions I have seen Traherne, I could see, was angry, but
such things, my friend, but never with he kept his temper in control as he de¬
the same accompanying circumstances. manded: “Then, I suppose, you’d like to
If those wounds were perforated, I have me burn some incense in their
should be convinced. As it is, I am in rooms, and maybe bring in an Indian
doubt, but-” medicine man to sing to them? Really,
"But what?” Traherne demanded as Doctor, you’re amusing.”
the Frenchman failed to bring his state¬ A smile which had no mirth in it
ment to conclusion. swept across de Grandin’s mobile lips.
De Grandin’s voice was flat and abso¬ "Monsieur,” he answered acidly, “I re¬
lutely toneless as he answered: "Mon¬ gret my inability to reciprocate the com¬
sieur, if I should tell you what it is I pliment, but I do not find you amusing.
think that lies behind this so strange No, not at all; by no means. I find you
business of the monkey, you would scoff. distinctly annoying. Your mind is literal
You would not believe me. Your mind, as a problem in addition. You believe in
pardieu, is far too logical. You would something only if you know the cause
say to you, 'Cordieu, I have never seen of it; you have faith in remedies only if
nor heard of anything like this, there¬ you know their application. Smallpox,
fore it cannot be.’ Nevertheless, I am in¬ diftheria, scarlet fever? Yes, of course,
clined to think the cause of Monsieur you know them. Dementia precox, yes,
Sorensen’s illness, and that of his so you know it, too. But subtle problems of
charming niece, strikes back directly to the mind—a hate, which is malign
that night in Madagascar when he pro¬ thought made crystal-hard by concentra¬
nounced divorcement on his native wife. tion—morbleu, you will have none of it!
It is, in fine, a thing which lies below the 'I have not seen it, therefore there is no
realms of logic, therefore something to such thing,’ you say.
be combated by perfectly illogical coun¬ "Attend me, mon petit bonhomme:
ter-measures.” When every button which you wore was
"Humph,” Traherne grunted. but a safety-pin, I was studying the oc-
 THE BLACK ORCHID 189

cult. 'Ah,’ I hear you say, 'occult—magic But the patients failed to show im¬
—balderdash!’ Yes, you think I speak provement. Sorensen seemed to
in terms of witches riding broomsticks, grow no weaker, but his strength did not
but it is not so. return, while within a week his niece be¬
"On more than one occasion I have came so utterly exhausted that the mere
seen men sicken and die when their performance of the vital functions seemed
symptoms were strangely similar to those to put too great a tax upon her waning
of Monsieur Sorensen and Mademoiselle strength. Saline infusions, finally liberal
Joyce. Yes, by blue, I have seen them die blood transfusions, were resorted to, and
and be buried, then rise again in dread¬ while these gave her temporary help, she
ful life-in-death. Do not laugh, Mon¬ soon lapsed back to semi-coma.
sieur; I tell you that which I have seen. De Grandin and Traherne were des¬
“But regard me carefully: I did not perate. "Trowbridge, mon vieux," the
say the symptoms were the same; I said Frenchman told me, "there is something
that they were similar. Those little, so evil here. We have exhausted every
small wounds the patients show, those remedy of science. Now I am convinced
little wounds which you think unimpor¬ our treatment must pursue another pat-'
tant, may be the key to this whole mys¬ tern. Will you watch with us tonight?”
tery. One thing disturbs me when I think We chose the upstairs sitting-room for
of them. They are punctured, not per¬ our headquarters. Sorensen’s room lay a
forated, by which I mean they strike dozen steps beyond it to the right, his
down in the flesh but do not wholly niece’s was scarcely farther at the left,
pierce it. They have entrances but no and we could reach either or both in
exits. Also their form convinces me that twenty seconds. We made inspections of
they were made with knives or needles the patients every hour, and each suc¬
or some small cutting instrument, and ceeding visit heightened our morale, for
not by teeth, as I at first suspect- both seemed resting easily, and each time
the nurses reported they had shown no
"Teeth!” Traherne exploded in amaze¬ sign of restlessness.
ment. "D’ye mean to tell me you sus¬ "Mordieu, but it would seem whatever
pected someone had bitten them?” lies behind this thing knows we are
"Some one—or some thing,” the here, and holds its hand in fear," de
-Frenchman answered earnestly. "Now I Grandin told us as the tall clock in the
think the contrary, therefore I am greatly lower hall struck two. "This is the time
puzzled. when vitality is lowest, and according¬
"Come, my friend, when doctors quar¬ ly-”
rel patients die; let us not be stubborn. His words were broken by a stran¬
I will forego the garlic in the sickroom, gling, choking cry which echoed through
for a time, at least; also I shall not insist the darkened house. "Monsieur Soren¬
upon their sleeping with their windows sen!” he exclaimed as, with Traherne and
closed. Do you, for your part, seek for me at his heels, he leaped across the
trusty nurses who shall watch them day threshold of the sitting-room and raced
and night, and we shall watch them the little distance to Sorensen’s room.
closely, too. Do you agree?” The room, which had been dimly
They shook hands upon their mutual lighted by a night lamp, was dark as
understanding. Erebus, and when we found the switch
190 WEIRD TALES

and pressed it, a sharp metallic click, had been in a trance. She was, to all in¬
but no light, followed. tents, turned to stone. There was no spe¬
"Dieu de Dieu de Dieu de Dieu de cial look upon her face, no fear, no ter¬
Dieu!” de Grandin swore. "Ten thou¬ ror; nothing that might be expected of a
sand small blue devils! What has hap¬ woman in her plight, but she sat fixed,
pened to the lights in this infernal immovable, utterly unconscious of the
place?” world about her.

A rasping, gurgling sound, as of water "Mademoiselle!” de Grandin cried

gushing down a drain, or a man fighting again.
desperately for breath, came through the His hand upon her shoulder brought
darkness from Sorensen’s bed, and with her back to instant consciousness, and
a string of curses which would have she rose quickly, winking in the strong
shamed a stevedore, de Grandin groped light of his pocket torch.
his way across the room, snatched a "W-why, what’s happened?” she de¬
pocket flashlight from his pocket and manded.
played its beam upon the sick man. "Happened?” Doctor Traherne almost
Sorensen lay upon his bed, his bed¬ shouted. "What’s happened? Nothing,
clothes kicked to the floor, hands clenched only your patient almost died while you
in a rigidity like that of death, fingers sat dozing in your chair!”
digging deep into the mattress. His "I haven’t been asleep,” the girl de¬
pajama coat was open at the throat, and nied vehemently. "Marshall brought me
on the white skin of his neck, just below coffee a few minutes ago, and I drank a
the line of tan, was a ruby disk where little, but just as I put the cup down you
warm blood welled up from a tiny came shouting here, and-”
wound. His eyes were open, staring, "Softly, mes amis,” de Grandin bade,
wide, and on his sun-burned face was holding up his hand for silence. "Do
such a look of mortal terror as is seldom not chide her, Friend Traherne, she is
seen outside the fantasies of a night¬ not culpable. And you, Mademoiselle,
mare. what of the coffee which the little black
"Mademoiselle!" de Grandin chal¬ one brought you? Where is it, if you
lenged sharply. “Where in blazing hell’s please?”
accursed name is that sacree garde- "Here,” she answered, pointing to a
malade?” His flashlight swung around, half-filled cup upon the table by her
picking up successive objects in the sick¬ chair.
room, coming finally to rest upon the He picked the little vessel up, smelled
rocking-chair where sat Sorensen’s night it cautiously, then, dipping the tip of his
nurse. forefinger into the brown liquid, put it
A chilling sense of cold, as though a to his tongue. "Mats non,” he shook his
freezing wind had blown upon me, made head in disappointment; then, to the girl:
me catch my breath as the flashlight’s "You say the negro butler brought
gleam illumined her. She did not stir. you this?”
She sat there rigidly, as though she had "Yes, sir; he’s very thoughtful. He
been carven out of wood. Her head was brings me coffee every night about this
held uncomfortably downward, as though time.”
she listened to something far away; her "U’m, one wonders. Let us have a
neck was fixed and firm as though she talk with him.”
 THE BLACK ORCHID 191

He strode across the darkened room respect to give his words a tone of in¬
and gave the call-bell button a sharp solent bravado.
push. * "Sit down, my little one,” de Grandin

W hile we waited for the servant to

arrive we made a quick examination
answered with surprizing calmness. "We
shall see what we shall see anon.” He
bent above Sorensen, bandaging his
of the lights. All were in working order, wounded throat. "By the way,” he flung
but each bulb had been twisted in its across his shoulder casually, "you are not
socket until it just missed contact with American, are you?”
the feed line, making the switch entirely
"No, sir,” said the butler.
useless. "Parbleu, it seems there has
"No? Where is it you were bom,
been business of the monkey here,” de
then?”
Grandin told us as he screwed the bulbs
"Barbados,- sir.”
in place. "Now, if we can but-”
"U’m? Very well. I apologize if I
"You rang, sir?” asked the colored have accused you wrongfully. That will
butler, appearing at the bedroom door as be all, at present."
silently as a disembodied spirit from the
mists of limbo. I nspection of Joyce Sorensen’s room
"Emphatically,” the Frenchman said. showed the girl sleeping peacefully
"You brought coffee to the nurse a little and the nurse alertly wakeful. "Have you
time ago?” had your coffee yet, Mademoiselle?" de
"Yes, sir,” the black answered, and I Grandin asked.
thought I caught the sparkle of sardonic "No,” Miss Angevine replied. "Mar¬
humor in his eye. "I bring coffee to shall hasn’t brought it yet. I wish he’d
both Miss Tuthill and Miss Angevine hurry, it helps a lot.”
about this time each night.” The little Frenchman gazed at her re¬

"Eh, and drug it, one surmises?” flectively a moment; then: "Mademoi¬

snapped de Grandin. selle," he ordered, "I desire that you join

Miss Tuthill in Monsieur Sorensen’s
The servant turned to the nurse, his
room. He is decidedly unimproved, and
manner a curious compound of respect
it is best that both of you stay with him.
and insolence. "How much coffee did
I shall undertake to watch your patient.”
you drink. Miss Tuthill?” he asked.
"What-” I began, but his upraised
"Not more than half a cup,” she an¬
hand checked my question.
swered.
"Quickly, my friend,” he bade, "be¬
"And is this the cup?” hind the lounge!”
"Yes.” “Eh? Behind-”
"Ah,” his impudence was superb as he "Species of an artichoke, conceal your¬
reached out his hand, took up the half- self with speed, and if you would not die
filled cup and drained it at a gulp. in great discomfort, be sure you make no
He looked the little Frenchman in the sound or move which might betray your
eye, a smile of half-concealed amusement presence. Me, I shall be the bait, you the
on his face. "If the coffee is drugged, as silent spectator.” He crossed the room
you suspect, it surely ought to act on me and rang the bell; then, as he resumed
—sir,” he announced, just enough pause his seat beside the sick girl’s bed: "Re¬
between the statement and the title of member,” he repeated, “on no account
192 WEIRD TALES

are you to move until I give the signal, pot and cup exactly duplicating those
no matter how great you deem the provo¬ which stood upon the table at de Gran¬
cation.” din’s side. Quickly he exchanged the
"You rang, sir?” Marshall asked, ap¬ new utensils for the old, poured out a
pearing in the doorway with his silent, half-cup of fresh coffee, and arranged
ghost-like tread. the things so carefully that, had I not

"Yes, I should like a cup of coffee, if observed the substitution, I should have
you please. The nurse is feeling indis¬ been prepared to swear that the cup upon
posed, and I have taken her responsi¬ the table was the one from which de
bility.” Grandin had refreshed himself.

Something like a gleam of triumph These preliminaries finished, the fel¬

flickered in the little black man’s eyes, low bent and looked into de Grandin’s
but it died as quickly as it came, and face; then, satisfied the Frenchman was
with a murmured, "Very good, sir,” he asleep, he turned and tiptoed to the bed
vanished in the darkness of the hall. where Joyce Sorensen lay. For a moment
Five minutes later he returned with a he stood looking at her and a smile of
silver tray containing coffee-pot and cup. wicked malice flickered on his features.
De Grandin rose and strode across the “Broken heart for broken heart,
room, pausing beside the bed and gazing wasted life for wasted life, tears for tears
thoughtfully at the sleeping girl. His and blood for blood,” he murmured.
back was toward the servant; the oppor¬ "Thus shall Mamba be avenged.”
tunity to drug his" coffee was perfect, Drawing a short, wide-bladed knife
made to order, it appeared to me. from underneath his jacket he ripped the
But nothing untoward happened. The girl’s silk sleeping-robe from neck to
butler placed the tray upon the table, hem with a single quick slash.
stood demurely waiting further orders, There was something devilish in his
then, as de Grandin failed to turn, with¬ deftness. Bending close, he drew apart
drew with his usual silent tread. the lips of the slit robe, and gently blew
Ignoring my presence completely, the upon the girl’s white body. Locked in
Frenchman resumed his chair, drank his the thrall of deep, exhaustive sleep, she
coffee at a draft, and picked up a maga¬ flinched from the current of his breath,
zine. turning slightly from him, and as she
Eight, ten, a dozen minutes passed. did so he tweaked the silk robe gently,
Nothing happened. Then suddenly the pulling an inch or so of it from under¬
tomb-like quiet of the room was broken neath her. Again and again he repeated
by a gentle guttural sound. I looked out the maneuver, slowly, patiently forcing
from my ambuscade in fascinated horror. her across the bed, bit by little bit with¬
De Grandin’s head had fallen forward, drawing the nightrobe, till at last she had
the magazine had slipped down to the shed the garment utterly and lay there
floor. He was asleep—and snoring. like a lovely statue hewn from ivory.
About to leave my place and seize him I saw a spot of bright blood form and
by the shoulder, I felt, rather than heard, grow as he pierced the skin below her
the butler’s quick approach, and hastily left breast with the sharp point of his
retreated to my hiding-place. knife, and had flexed my muscles for a
Stepping softly as a cat, the servant spring when his next move struck me
came into the room, bearing a tray with stone-still with amazement.
W. T.—3
 THE BLACK ORCHID 193

From beneath his jacket he drew forth as though the dancing horror balanced
something like a bundle of coarse moss, over her were forcing realization of its
dangled it before him from a silken presence down through her unconscious¬
cord and began to swing it through the ness.
air. Faster and faster, till it whirled "Trowbridge, mon vieux, take him,
round his head like a wheel of light, he seize him, do not let him pass!” With a
swung the odd-appearing thing; then, as bound de Grandin was out of his chair,
he reduced its speed and dangled it every trace of sleep gone from him. He
above the blood-spot on the girl’s bared leaped across the room, hands out¬
breast, I saw that closely twisted tendrils stretched to seize the black.
had worked open, and assumed the form With a snarl of bestial fury the little
of two capital Ys joined together at the fellow dodged, hurling himself toward
base. Leaning quickly downward he the door. I squirmed from my conceal¬
dropped the object on the red-dyed wound ment and put myself in his path. As he
which jeweled the whiteness of the girl’s ran straight at me I let drive my fist,
uncovered breast, and my eyes almost catching him squarely on the point of the
started from my head in horror as I saw jaw and knocking him backward to de
the tiny thing begin to show a dreadful Grandin’s waiting arms.
sort of change.
"Bete, chien, chameau!" the French¬
One of the branches of the lower Y man whispered fiercely as he seized the
had touched the drop of ruby blood which undersized man’s elbows in an iron grip
welled up from the tiny wound he had and forced them to his sides. He slipped
inflicted on Joyce Sorensen, and like a his hands down the butler’s forearms,
blotter—or a leech—it drank the ruddy gripped him by the wrists and bent his
fluid up, slowly swelling, growing, tak¬ arms upward in a double hammerlock.
ing on the form of life. Like a tiny “Thou species of a spider, thou ninety-
balloon, inflated by a gentle flow of nine-times-damned example of a dead
breath, the shriveled Y-bars filled out and rotten fish, take that flower of hell
gradually, took on the form of human from Mademoiselle, and see that not a
arms and legs; a head appeared between root is left to fester in her wound!” he
the outspread branches of the upper Y, ordered.
and, balanced like a ballet dancer on one The little black man snarled like a
toe, a small, black human form pirouet¬ trapped cat. "You think that you can
ted over Joyce Sorensen’s heart. make me?” he demanded. "Kill me,
Strangely life-like, oddly human in French oppressor, cut me in pieces, break
form it was, yet with something of the my arms and drag my heart from out my
plant about it, too, so that as I gazed in breast, but you cannot save the woman.
fascination I could not determine whether Tomorrow they will find her as she lies,
it was a minute black dwarf which re¬ unclothed for all to look on, bloodless
sembled some obscene variety of flower, and breathless-”
or some dreadful flower which presented De Grandin bent the speaker’s twisted
an indecent parody of humanity. arms a half-inch nearer to his shoulders.

T he sleeping girl stirred distressfully,

moaning as if in torment, and her
"You think so?” he demanded. "Bar les
plumes d’un coq, we shall see if you are
right!”
hands twitched spasmodically. It seemed Tiny gouts of perspiration glistened on
194 WEIRD TALES

the little black man’s forehead, his mouth had shriveled in upon itself, and was
drew taut with agony and his eyes thrust nothing but a ball of moss-like fiber from
forward in their sockets like a frog’s as the fraying ends of which there dripped
de Grandin slowly tightened his tortur¬ small drops of ruddy moisture.
ing grip upon his arms. Step by step he "Bien,” announced de Grandin as he""
forced his prisoner toward the bed, hiss¬ eased his hold upon his prize. "Trow¬
ing epithets in mingled French and bridge, my friend, go and bid the nurse
English in his ear. return, if you will be so kind. Me, I

As they reached the couch where Joyce have a few important questions I would
Sorensen lay, the captive dropped upon ask of this one—and I think I shall elicit
better answers if I ask them in the privacy
his knees with a short gasp of anguish.
of the garage. I shall rejoin you soon.”
"Let me go,” he begged. "Let me go,
you French beast. I’ll take the flower off
“ TTOLA, mes enjants!” smiling in
of her.”
II complete self-approval, Jules de
De Grandin eased his grip upon one
Grandin joined us in Sorensen’s upstairs
arm. "Do it with one hand,” he ordered.
sitting-room. "The germ which caused
"I need both.”
this new disease our colleague Traherne
The Frenchman twisted the bent arms
found has been isolated. Morbleu, he is
again and the butler crumpled to the completely isolated in the poste de police
floor unconscious. —unless they put him in restraint in the
"Water, if you please, Friend Trow¬ hospital. I fear I was a trifle rough with
bridge,” he commanded. "I am too fully him before his story was completed.”
occupied to get it.” "Then it was a germ disease-” Tra¬
I snatched a carafe from the table and herne began, but de Grandin interrupted
dashed a glassful of chilled water in the with a laugh.
prisoner’s face. "Metis out, mon brave," he chuckled.
"And now, my little truant out of "A small and wholly vicious germ which
hell,” de Grandin whispered softly as the traveled on two legs, and bore with him
captive winced beneath the shock of the the strangest orchid any botanist could
cold liquid and his eyelids fluttered up¬ dream of. Attend me, if you please:
ward, "you will please remove that thirty- "When Monsieur Sorensen told us of
thousand-times-accursed thing from Ma¬ his Madagascan interlude, I thought I
demoiselle, or I shall surely twist your smelled the odor of the rat. Madagascar,
arms from off your body and thrust them mon Dieu, what a place! A land of mys¬
piecemeal down your throat!” Once tery more terrible than Africa, more sub¬
again he bent his prisoner’s arms until I tle than China, more vengeful than India!
thought that he would surely crack the When our forces overthrew the native
bones. government there in 1896 they incurred
One wrist freed, the black man reached the never-dying hatred of the Andriana,
out, seized the gyrating black thing and or Malagasy nobility, and that hatred still
lifted it carefully from the wound in crops up in strange and inexplicable mur¬
Joyce Sorensen’s breast. Like a blown- ders of the French officials.
up bladder punctured with a pin, the in¬ "You will recall Monsieur Sorensen
fernal thing began to wilt immediately. referred to his native wife as Mamba, and
In thirty seconds it had shrunk to half its called her a priestess of 'the Fragrant
former size; before a minute passed it One’? Very good. Mamba, my friends,
 THE BLACK ORCHID 195

is a native term for a terrible, strange vampire bites his victim on the throat;
black orchid said to infest the jungles of Monsieur Sorensen’s wound was from a
inland Madagascar. It is supposed to be knife or pin, not from a tooth, and a sim¬
a kind of vampire plant, or vegetable ilar wound was on his niece’s breast.
leech, and if it be placed upon an open "I looked around, I noticed things; it
wound it blossoms in the likeness of a is a habit which I have.
human figure and nourishes itself upon "I saw this colored butler, Marshall.
the blood of its unfortunate host till he This Marshall is a black man, but he is
or she is dead. According to the stories not a Negro. Neither are the Malagasy.
I was told in Madagascar, the habitat of When they are pure-bloods, unmixed
this strange plant is strictly guarded by with Malay or Chinese or Hindoo stock,
the priesthood which serves 'the Fragrant their skin is black, but their features are
One,’ which is the native name for the small and straight and fine-cut, without
more or less mythical man-eating tree of a negroid trace, their hair straight and
which such dreadful tales are told. uncurled, their bodies firmly made, but
"Very well. What had we before us? small.
A man who had incurred the hatred of "Again, this Marshall, as he called
a native noblewoman who was also a himself, spoke with an English accent.
priestess of a dark, malevolent religion, I knew he was not reared in this country,
a noted sorceress, a woman whose very but when he said he was from Barbados
name was identical with that of a strange I also knew he lied. Negroes from Jamai¬
and dreadful kind of parasitic plant. This ca speak like Englishmen; those from
man lived beneath a curse pronounced Barbados, for some strange reason, speak
upon him by this woman, and in the with a strong Irish brogue. 'There is the
curse she foretold that he should be smell of fish upon this business, Jules de
stricken with a malady which should Grandin,’ I inform me.
cause his blood to waste away like little "Tonight we find Miss Tuthill
brooks in summer. Also that before he drugged; it is apparent, yet the butler of¬
died he should see the one whom he fers a good alibi. 'I will test him further,’
loved most slowly wilt away and die. I decide, and so I send the other nurse
"And what else did we see? This man away, ask him for coffee and pretend to
was wasting steadily away; his niece, the fall into a drug-caused sleep. He rises to
apple of his eye, was also sinking rapidly. the bait. Mon Dieu, he rises nobly!
Was it not apparent that the curse had He-”
found him out? It seemed entirely possi¬ "How did you manage to shake off the
ble. effects of the drug so quickly?” I inter¬
"But if it were a curse which worked posed. "The nurse was absolutely para¬
by magic, why had he grown better when lyzed, yet you-”
you sent him off upon a cruise? And "7tens," he broke in with a laugh,
why did his malady return when he came "those who would make the fool of Jules
home? Apparently, there was some con¬ de Grandin need to rise early in the day,
nection between his house and his dis¬ my friend. Did you think I drank that
ease. What was this link? Ah, that was coffee? Quelle naivete! Pah. Regardez!”
for me to find out. From his pocket he drew out a hand¬
"I have seen men die when stricken kerchief, soaking with brown stickiness.
by a vampire—do not laugh, Monsieur "When one knows how, the trick is
Traherne, I tell you it is so!—but the simple,” he assured us. "Le mouchoir, I
196 WEIRD TALES

stuff him in my collar underneath my he watched his opportunity, finally com¬

chin while my back is turned to Marshall, ing to this country, taking service with
then pouf! I pour the coffee into him Sorensen, gaining his full confidence,
when I pretend to drink. Ah bah, it is waiting for his chance to plant the
hot, it is sticky, it is most damnably un¬ strange, black orchid on his throat.
comfortable, but it leaves me in posses¬ " 'You shall feel the kiss of Mamba,’
sion of my faculties. Yes, certainly, of said the Malagasy woman, and it was in
course. truth the kiss of Mamba—Mamba the
"Then, while he thinks I am asleep he black orchid, not Mamba the black wom¬
does the thing he has done many times an—which had drained him of his blood
before, but tonight would have been the and almost caused his death when you
curtain for Mademoiselle Joyce. He was called us in the case, Monsieur Traherne.”
prepared to break Monsieur Sorensen’s "Where’s that black orchid now?”
heart by killing his niece before adminis¬ asked Traherne.
tering the coup de grace to him. "It was not safe to have around. I
"Ha, but I slept the sleep of the pussy¬ threw it in the furnace—morbleu, it
cat, me! When my small, black mouse writhed and twisted like a tortured living
was too far from his hole to make retreat thing when the flames devoured it!” an¬
I pounced upon him with the help of swered Jules de Grandin with a grimace.
good friend Trowbridge, and thereafter "The memory of it nauseates me. Await
he had many troubles. me here, my friends, I go for medicine.”
"It took persuasion to make him tell "I’ve some tablets in my bag-”
his story, but he finally told it, though Traherne began, but de Grandin made a
he finished with a broken arm. He was gesture of dissent.
a nephew of this Mamba, this sorceress, "Not that, mon brave,” he interrupted.
this priestess of 'the Fragrant One,’ this "The medicine I seek is in a bottle on
orchid-woman who had put a curse on the sideboard down below. It bears the
Monsieur Sorensen, Through the years name of Messieurs Haig & Haig.”
 Smoky Island
By L. M. MONTGOMERY
A quaint little ghost story by the author of

W
"Anne of Green Gables”

HEN Madeline Stanwyck asked season, and there would be mosquitoes,

me to join her house party at One mosquito can keep me more awake
Smoky Island I was not at first than a bad conscience: and there are mil-
disposed to do so. It was too early in the lions of mosquitoes in Muskoka.
197
198 WEIRD TALES

"No, no, the season for them is over,” a dull one or two to show off the sparkle
Madeline assured me. Madeline would of the rest of us”—I did not bow this
say anything to get her way. time—"Consuelo Anderson . . . Aunt
"The mosquito season is never over in Alma . . . Professor Tennant and his
Muskoka,” I said, as grumpily as anyone wife . . . Dick Lane . . . Tod Newman
could speak to Madeline. "They thrive . . . Senator Malcolm and Mrs. Sen¬
up there at zero. And even if by some ator . . . Old Nosey . . . Min Ingram . . .
miracle there are no mosquitoes, I’ve no Judge Warden . . . Mary Harland . . .
hankering to be chewed to pieces by black and a few Bright Young Things to amuse
flies.” me.”

Even Madeline did not dare to say I ran over the list in my mind, not dis¬
there would be no black flies, so she wise¬ approvingly. Consuelo was a very fat girl
ly fell back on her Madelinity. with a B. A. degree. I liked her because
"Please come, for my sake,” she said she could sit still for a longer time than
wistfully. "It wouldn’t be a real party any woman I know. Tennant was profes¬
for me if you weren’t there, Jim darling.” sor of something he called the New Path¬
ology—an insignificant little man with a
I am Madeline’s favorite cousin, twen¬
gigantic intellect. Dick Lane was one of
ty years her senior, and she calls every¬
those coming men who never seem to
body darling when she wants to get some¬
arrive, but a frank, friendly, charming
thing out of him. Not but that Madeline
fellow enough. Mary Harland was a com¬
. . . but this story is not about Madeline.
fortable spinster. Tod an amusing little
It is about an occurrence which took
fop, Aunt Alma a sweet, silvery-haired
place at Smoky Island. None of us pre¬
thing like a Whistler mother. Old Nosey
tends to understand it, except the Judge,
—whose real name was Miss Alexander
who pretends to understand everything.
and who never let anyone forget that she
But he really understands it no better than
had nearly sailed on the Lusitania—and
the rest of us. His latest explanation is
the Malcolms had no terrors for me, al¬
that we were all hypnotized and in the
though the Senator always called his wife
state of hypnosis saw and remembered
"Kittens.” And Judge Warden was an
things we couldn’t otherwise have seen or
old crony of mine. I did not like Min
remembered. But even he cannot ex¬
Ingram, who had a rapier-like tongue,
plain who or what hypnotized us.
but she could be ignored, along with the
I decided to yield, but not all at once. Bright Young Things.
"Has your Smoky Island housekeeper
"Is that all?” I asked cautiously.
still got that detestable white parrot?” I
"Well . . . Doctor Armstrong and
asked.
Brenda, of course,” said Madeline, eyeing
"Yes, but it is much better-mannered
me as if it were not at all of course.
than it used to be,” assured Madeline.
"Is that—wise?” I said slowly.
"And you know you have always liked
her cat.” Madeline crumpled.
"Who’ll be in your party? I’m rather "Of course not,” she said miserably.
finicky as to the company I keep.” "It will likely spoil everything. But John
Madeline grinned. insists on it . . . you know he and An¬
"You know I never invite anyone but thony Armstrong have been pals all their
interesting people to my parties”—I lives. And Brenda and I have always
bowed to the implied compliment—"with been chummy. It would look so funny
 THE HOUSE PARTY AT SMOKY ISLAND 199

if we didn’t have them. I don’t know neither careless nor suicidally inclined.
what has got into her. We all know An¬ There were some ugly rumors, especially
thony never poisoned Susette.” when it became known that Anthony had
"Brenda doesn’t know it, apparently,” inherited her entire fortune under her
I said. will; but nobody ever dared say much
"Well, she ought to!” snapped Mad¬ openly. We, who knew and loved An¬
eline. "As if Anthony could have poi¬ thony, never paid any heed to the hints.
soned anyone! But that’s one of the And when, two years later, he married
reasons I particularly want you to come.” Brenda Young, we were all glad. An¬
"Ah, now we’re getting at it. But why thony, we said, would have some real
me?” happiness now.
"Because you’ve more influence over For a time he did have it. Nobody
Brenda than anyone else ... oh, yes, could doubt that he and Brenda were
you have. If you could get her to open ecstatically happy. Brenda was a sincere,
up . . . talk to her . . . you might help spiritual creature, lovely after a fashion
her. Because ... if something doesn’t totally different from Susette. Susette
help her soon she’ll be beyond help. You had had golden hair and eyes as cool
know that.” and green as fluorspar. Brenda had
slim, dark distinction, hair that blended
I knew it well enough. The case of the with the dusk, and eyes so full of twi¬
Anthony Armstrongs was worrying us light that it was hard to say whether they
all. We saw a tragedy being enacted be¬ were blue or gray. She loved Anthony so
fore our eyes and we could not lift a terribly that sometimes I thought she was
finger to help. For Brenda would not tempting the gods.
talk and Anthony had never talked. Then—slowly, subtly, remorselessly—
The story, now five years old, was the change set in. We began to feel that
known to all of us, of course. Anthony’s there was something wrong—very wrong
first wife had been Susette Wilder. Of —between the Armstrongs. They were
the dead nothing but good; so I will say no longer quite so happy . . . they were
of Susette only that she was very beauti¬ not happy at all . . . they were wretched.
ful and very rich. Luckily her fortune Brenda’s old delightful laugh was never
had come to her unexpectedly by the heard, and Anthony went about his work
death of an aunt and cousin after she had with an air of abstraction that didn’t
married Anthony, so that he could not please his patients. His practise had fall¬
be accused of fortune-hunting. He had en off awhile before Susette’s death, but
been wildly in love with Susette at first, it had picked up and grown wonderfully.
but after they had been married a few Now it began dropping again. And the
years I don’t think he had much affection worst of it was that Anthony didn’t seem
left for her. None of the rest of us had to care. Of course he didn’t need it from
ever had any to begin with. When word a financial point of view, but he had al¬
came back from California—where An¬ ways been so keenly interested in his
thony had taken her one winter for her work.
nerves—that she was dead I don’t sup¬ I don’t know whether it was merely
pose anyone felt any regret, nor any sus¬ surmise or whether Brenda had let a word
picion when we heard that she had died slip, but we all knew or felt that a hor¬
from an overdose of chloral; rather mys¬ rible suspicion possessed her. There was
teriously, to be sure, for Susette was some whisper of an anonymous letter, full
200 WEIRD TALES

of vile innuendoes, that had started the koka lake and the house was called the
trouble. I never knew the rights of that, Wigwam . . . probably because nothing
but I did know that Brenda had become on earth could be less like a wigwam.
a haunted woman. The Stanwyck money had made a won¬
Had Anthony given Susette that over¬ derful place of it, but even the Stanwyck
dose of chloral—given it purposely? money could not buy fine weather. Mad¬
If she had been the kind of woman eline’s party was a flop. It rained every
who talks things out, some of us might day more or less for the week, and though
have saved her. But she wasn’t. It’s my we all tried heroically to make the best
belief that she never said one word to of things I don’t think I ever spent a
Anthony of the cold horror of distrust more unpleasant time. The parrot’s man¬
that was poisoning her life. But he must ners were no better, in spite of Madeline’s
have felt she suspected him, and between assurances. Min Ingram had brought an
them was the chill and shadow of a thing aloof, disdainful dog with her that every¬
that must not be spoken of. one hated because he despised us all. Min
At the time of Madeline’s house party herself kept passing out needle-like in¬
the state of affairs between the Arm¬ sults when she saw anyone in danger of
strongs was such that Brenda had almost being comfortable. I thought the Bright
reached the breaking-point. Anthony’s Young Things seemed to hold me respon¬
nerves were tense, too, and his eyes were sible for the weather. All our nerves got
almost as tragic as hers. We were all edgy except Aunt Alma’s. Nothing ever
ready to hear that Brenda had left him upset Aunt Alma. She prided herself a
or done something more desperate still. bit on that.
And nobody could do a thing to help, On Saturday the weather wound up
not even I, in spite of Madeline’s foolish with a regular downpour and a wind that
hopes. I couldn’t go to Brenda and say, rushed out of the black-green pines to
"Look here, you know, Anthony never lash the Wigwam and then rushed back
thought of such a thing as poisoning Su¬ like a maddened animal. The air was as
sette.” After all, in spite of our surmises, full of tom, flying leaves as of rain, and
the trouble might be something else al¬ the lake was a splutter of tossing waves.
together. And if she did suspect him, This charming day ended in a dank,
what proof could I offer her that would streaming night.
root the obsession out of her mind? And yet things had seemed a bit bet¬
ter than any day yet. Anthony was away.
I hardly thought the Armstrongs would He had got some mysterious telegram
go to Smoky Island, but they did. just after breakfast, had taken the small
When Anthony turned on the wharf and motor-boat, and gone to the mainland.
held out his hand to assist Brenda from I was thankful, for I felt I could no long¬
the motor-boat, she ignored it, stepping er endure seeing a man’s soul tortured
swiftly off without any assistance and run¬ as his was. Brenda had kept her room all
ning up through the rock garden and the day on the good old plea of a headache.
pointed firs. I saw Anthony go very I won’t say it wasn’t a relief. We all felt
white. I felt a little side myself. If mat¬ the strain between her and Anthony like
ters had come to such a pass that she a tangible thing.
shrank from his mere touch, disaster was "Something—something—is going to
near. happen,” Madeline kept saying to me.
Smoky Island was in a little blue Mus- She was really worse than the parrot.
 THE HOUSE PARTY AT SMOKY ISLAND 201

A fter dinner we all gathered around proposed that each of us tell a ghost story,
but she did. It was an ideal night for
l the fireplace in the hall, where a
cheerful fire of white birchwood was ghost stories, she averred. She hadn’t
glowing; for although it was June the heard any for ages and she understood
evening was cold. I settled back with a that everybody had had at least one super¬
sigh of relief. After all, nothing lasted natural occurrence in his or her life.
for ever, and this infernal house party "I haven’t,” growled the Judge con¬
would be over on Monday. Besides, it temptuously.
was really quite comfortable and cheerful "I suppose,” said Professor Tennant a
here, despite rattling windows and wail¬ little belligerently, "that you would call
ing winds and rain-swept panes. Made¬ anyone an ass who believed in ghosts?”
line turned out the electric lights, and the The Judge carefully fitted his finger¬
firelight was kind to the women, who all tips together before he replied.
looked quite charming. Some of the “Oh, dear, no. I would not so insult
Bright Young Things sat cross-legged on asses.”
the floor with arms around one another "Of course if you don’t believe in
quite indiscriminately as far as sex was ghosts they can’t happen,” said Consuelo.
concerned . . . except one languid, so¬ "Some people are able to see ghosts
phisticated creature in orange velvet and and some are not,” announced Dick Lane.
long amber ear-rings, who sat on a low "It’s simply a gift.”
stool with a lapful of silken housekeep¬ "A gift I was not dowered with,” said
er’s cat, giving everyone an excellent view Kittens complacently.
of the bones in her spine. Min’s dog Mary Harland shuddered. "What a
posed haughtily on the rug, and the par¬ dreadful thing it would be if the dead
rot in his cage was quiet—for him—only really came back!”
telling us once in a while that he or " 'From ghoulies and ghaisties and lang-
someone else was devilish clever. Mrs. legged beasties
Howey, the housekeeper, insisted on keep¬ And things that go bump in the night
ing him in the hall, and Madeline had to Good Lord, deliver us,’ ” quoted Ted
wink at it because it was hard to get a flippantly.
housekeeper in Muskoka even for a But Madeline was not to be side¬
Wigwam. tracked. Her little elfish face, under its
The Judge was looking like a chuckle crown of russet hair, was alive with de¬
because he had solved a jigsaw pu2zle termination.
that had baffled everyone, and the Profes¬ "We’re going to spook a bit,” she
sor and Senator, who had been arguing said resolutely. "This is just the sort of
stormily all day, were basking in each night for ghosts to walk. Only of course
other’s regard for a foeman worthy of his they can’t walk here because the Wigwam
steel. Consuelo was sitting still, as usual. isn’t haunted, I’m sorry to say. Wouldn’t
Mrs. Tennant and Aunt Alma were knit¬ it be heavenly to live in a haunted house?
ting pullovers. Kittens, her fat hands Come now, everyone must tell a ghost
folded across her satin stomach, was sur¬ story. Professor Tennant, you lead off.
veying her Senator adoringly, and Miss Something nice and creepy, please.”
Nosey was taking everything in. We To my surprize, the Professor did lead
were, for the time being, a contented, off, although Mrs. Tennant’s expression
congenial bunch of people and I did not plainly informed us that she didn’t ap¬
see why Madeline should have suddenly prove of juggling with ghosts. He told a
202 WEIRD TALES

very good story, too—punctuated with first time I had ever seen him looking like
snorts from the Judge—about a house a real dog. I wondered idly what had
he knew which had been haunted by the frightened him. The housekeeper’s cat
voice of a dead child who joined in every sat up, its back bristling, slid from the
conversation bitterly and vindictively. The orange velvet lap and slunk out of the
child had, of course, been ill-treated and hall. I had a queer sensation in the roots
murdered, and its body was eventually of what hair I had left, so I turned hastily
found under the hearthstone of the li¬ to the slim, dark girl on the oak settle at
brary. Then Dick told a tale about a dead my right.
dog that avenged its master, and Con- "You haven’t told us a ghost story yet,
suelo amazed me by spinning a really Christine. It’s your turn.”
gruesome yam of a ghost who came to Christine smiled. I saw the Judge look¬
die wedding of her lover with her rival
ing admiringly at her ankles, sheathed in
. . . Consuelo said she knew the people.
chiffon hose. The Judge always had an
Ted knew a house in which you heard
eye for a pretty ankle. As for me, I was
voices and footfalls where no voices or wondering why I couldn’t recall Chris¬
footfalls could be, and even Aunt Alma
tine’s last name and why I felt as if I had
told of "a white lady with a cold hand” been impelled in some odd way to make
who asked you to dance with her. If you that commonplace remark to her.
were reckless enough to accept the invita¬
"Do you remember how firmly Aunt
tion you never lost the feeling of her
Elizabeth believed in ghosts?” said Chris¬
cold hand in yours. This chilly apparition
tine. "And how angry it used to make
was always garbed in the costume of the
her when I laughed at the idea? I am
Seventies.
. . . wiser now.”
"Fancy a ghost in a crinoline,” giggled
"I remember,” said the Senator in a
a Bright Young Thing.
dreamy way.
Min Ingram, of all people, had seen
"It was your Aunt Elizabeth’s money
a ghost and took it quite seriously.
that went to the first Mrs. Armstrong,
"Well, show me a ghost and I’ll be¬ wasn’t it?” said one of the Bright Young
lieve in it,” said the Judge, with another Things, nicknamed Tweezers. It was an
snort. abominable thing for anyone to say, right
“Isn’t he devilish clever?” croaked the there before Brenda. But nobody seemed
parrot. horrified. I had another odd feeling that
Just at this point Brenda drifted down¬ it had to be said and who but Tweezers
stairs and sat down behind us all, her would say it? I had another feeling . . .
tragic eyes burning out of her white face. that ever since Brenda’s entrance every
I had a feeling that there, in that calm, trifle was important, every tone was of
untroubled scene, full of good-humored, profound significance, every word had a
tolerably amused, commonplace people, hidden meaning. Was I developing
a human heart was burning at the stake nerves?
in agony. "Yes,” said Christine evenly.
"Do you suppose Susette Armstrong
S omething fell over us with Brenda’s really took that overdose of chloral on
coming. Min Ingram’s dog suddenly purpose?” went on Tweezers unbelieva¬
whined and flattened himself out on the bly.
mg. It occurred to me that it was the Not being near enough to Tweezers to
 THE HOUSE PARTY AT SMOKY ISLAND 203

assassinate her, I looked at Brenda. But hysterics. Kittens, her fat figure shaking,
Brenda gave no sign of having heard. was clinging to her Senator, whose fool¬
She was staring fixedly at Christine. ish, amiable face was gray—absolutely
"No,” said Christine. I wondered how gray. Min Ingram was on her knees and
she knew, but there was no question the Judge was trying to keep his hands
whatsoever in my mind that she did know from shaking by clenching them together.
it. She spoke as one having authority. His lips were moving and I know I
"Susette had no intention of dying. And caught the word, "God.” As for Tweez¬
yet she was doomed, although she never ers and all the rest of her gang, they
suspected it. She had an incurable dis¬ were no longer Bright Young Things but
ease which would have killed her in a few simply shivering, terrified children.
months. Nobody knew that except An¬ I felt sick—very, very sick. Because
thony and me. And she had come to there was no one on the oak settle and
hate Anthony so. She was going to change none of us had ever known or heard of
her will the very next day—leave every¬ the girl I had called Christine.
thing away from him. She told me so. At that moment the hall door opened
I was furious. Anthony, who had spent and a dripping Anthony entered. Brenda
his life doing good to suffering creatures, flung herself hungrily against him, wet as
was to be left poor and struggling again, he was.
after his practise had been all shot to "Anthony . . . Anthony, forgive me,”
pieces by Susette’s goings-on. I had loved she sobbed.
Anthony ever since I had known him. Something good to see came into An¬
He didn’t know it—but Susette did. Trust thony’s worn face.
her for that. She used to twit me with "Have you been frightened, darling?”
it. Not that it mattered ... I knew he he said tenderly. "I’m sorry I was so late.
would never care for me. But I saw my There was really no danger. I waited to
chance to do something for him and I get an answer to my wire to Los Angeles.
took it. 1 gave Susette that overdose of You see I got word this morning that
chloral. I loved him enough for that. . . Christine Latham had been killed in a
and for this.” motor accident yesterday evening. She
Somebody screamed. I have never was Susette’s second cousin and nurse . ..
known whether it was Brenda or not. a dear, loyal little thing. I was very fond
Aunt Alma—who was never upset over of her. I’m sorry you’ve had such an
anything—was huddled in her chair in anxious evening, sweetheart.”
 nee in a Thousand Years
By FRANCES BRAGG MIDDLETON

One of the strangest stories ever written—a fascinating present-day tale

of Atlantis and a weird adventure in the Sargasso Sea

I T WAS a mad thing to do, of course.

But the three of us were together,
when we couldn’t find him, and when
Todd’s family and Todd’s servants—it
perhaps for the last time. And we was Todd’s father’s house where we
were all just out of school, and none of were staying—declared they hadn’t seen
us was twenty-two, and each of us had or heard him, that we began to be
had one drink too many. Also, the night alarmed. And by that time it was too
was one of those mad, intoxicating nights late to do any good.
that rarely come more than once in any Of course, we searched everywhere,
man’s lifetime. notified his uncle and the authorities.
Glamor. The night was thick with it. There was a terrible rush and scramble
A blue, blue, star-shot sky. The Gulf of coast guards, police, and newspaper
spread out to meet it, white under the men for u while. It actually looked at
breath-taking beauty of the great white one time as if Todd and I might be ac¬
moon. All the rippling, gurgling voices cused of making away with him. But
of a summer sea, all the Circe-scents of O’Farrell’s old uncle wouldn’t hear of
jasmine flowers, magnolias, and orange that. Neither would he admit that O’Far¬
trees in bloom. We couldn’t sleep. We rell was dead. Todd and I had no doubts
couldn’t stay inside. on that score. We knew what that tre¬
I don’t remember who suggested mendous ebb was like. If it had got
swimming out to the float. We were O’Farrell ... but it was more than
none of us accountable, exactly. But I three years before we knew.
remember we all agreed to it, though we For Shane O’Farrell came back, as
all knew that the tide was out and run¬ suddenly, as unexpectedly, as he had
ning strong. Indeed, I never knew such gone. He simply walked in on me, in the
another ebb as we felt that night. It office where I was strenuously trying to
swept us out with all the force of the learn my father’s business. And when I
current of a great river in flood-time. had begun to get over the shock of his
And it served to sober us. We were glad return, and to get a good look at him, I
to reach the float and lie on it and rest. began to realize that he had changed im¬
We knew we could never go back against measurably. He had always been tall, I
a tide like that. We’d have to wait till remembered. Now, by some trick in the
morning. carriage of his head, in the pitch of his
So Nelson Todd and I made the best shoulders, he seemed inches taller. His
of it and slept. But when the hot sun blue eyes were clouded with something
waked us, Shane O’Farrell was gone. I couldn’t fathom. His big, generous,
It did not occur to us then to be un¬ Irish mouth, that had used to laugh so
easy. We swam in, dressed, and went much, was etched in sensitive, wistful
down to breakfast It was only then, lines. And his movements were more
204
 ONCE IN A THOUSAND YEARS 205

“Who are you?” he demanded.

He gave me a startled look.

"That’s queer,” he said.
But when I asked him what was queer
about that, he only shook his head ab¬
sently. And it dawned on me suddenly
deliberate. His old impulsiveness was that it was his own voice that was queer,
gone. as if it hadn’t been used much lately, in

S hane told me, in answer to my ques¬

talking English, that is.
I began to get a little warm under the
tions, that he had been globe-trot¬ collar. After all, we’d been brought up
ting a bit, that he had already seen his next door to each other, gone to school
uncle, but hadn’t been able to locate Nel¬ together, eaten each other’s bread, fought
son Todd. each other’s battles, spent each other’s
"Todd’s on an engineering job in money, almost all our lives. He had
Yucatan,” I told him. dropped into the sea that night from
206 WEIRD TALES

within a yard of me. And I wasn’t going large, handsome gobs? The Sargasso Sea
to be put off by that cool, detached, new that’s so famous and so reeking with
manner of his, if I could help it. mystery! And you mean to tell me you
"So you mean to tell me,” I accused, got there—by swimming, was it?—with
"that you got tired of the float, so you nothing but a pair of bathing-trunks to
just dropped off into the water, were help you along?”
swept out to sea and were picked up, He burst out laughing, quite like his
and that you’ve just been wandering old self for the moment. It was the first
over the face of the earth ever since, sign of reality I’d seen in him since he
without money, without letting your came.
friends know-” "Oh, I had a striped silk dressing-
"Oh, I was with friends,” he told me gown before I got there,” he explained.
casually. "That is,” with the manner of But then his laugh broke off in the mid¬
one conscientiously trying to tell the exact dle and his eyes grew vague again.
truth, "that is, they were friends after I "Saint Brandan's Isle, you know. You’ve
met up with them.” read about it-”
And for a while he just sat there, star¬ "Sure,” I snorted. ’ "I’ve read about it.
ing out the window of that eighteenth- About the Seven Cities of Cibola, too,
story office, but seeing nothing, hearing and the voyages of Madoc and Mael-
nothing, I could have sworn, of the dune, and a thousand other marvels.
dingy, humming streets below. And my But I never expect to see any of them,
patience broke all of a sudden, like a and you don’t either.”
blown-up balloon.
"No, I never expect to see any of
"But where have you been?” I almost
them,” he repeated, and his eyes grew
yelled at him. "Great Scott, man, do you
more clouded than ever.
think you can go out like the flame of a
I banged the drawers of my desk shut
candle and then bob up again without a
and dragged him out to lunch. That
word of warning, and expect nobody to
night I took him to a show. But he
take any notice of it? Haven’t the re¬
never really waked up. He still liked
porters got hold of you yet?”
me, I think—as much, that is, as it was
"No,” he answered mildly, still star¬
left in him to like anyone. He dropped
ing out toward the smoky horizon.
in every day. But he wouldn’t talk.
"Uncle John and you are the only ones
And that queer, detached manner of his
who know yet that I’m back. I don’t
bothered me.
want—publicity.”
When he did break silence, it was
“Well, you’ll get it,” I exploded.
always to say something strange and un¬
"Dead men can’t come alive without get¬
expected.
ting into the papers. Where have you
been?” "Do you believe in the impossible?”
“In the Sargasso Sea,” he answered he asked one night, when we were smok¬
quietly, and smiled a little, secret smile. ing in the living-room of the two-by-four
I think I was never quite so angry in apartment which was all I could afford
my life before. in town.
"So that’s what you mean to tell the "It depends on what you cal! the im¬
papers!” I snorted witheringly. "I sup¬ possible,” I answered, puzzled. "Colum¬
pose that wouldn’t get you publicity in bus did it in his day. Peary did it in ours.
 ONCE IN A THOUSAND YEARS 207,

So did the Wright brothers. Everything "Do you know anything about heredi¬
was impossible till somebody did it.” ty?” he demanded once.
"In other words,” he said slowly, "Only that most people look more or
"nothing is really impossible?” less like their parents and inherit their
"Not after it’s been done,” I told him, debts or their property,” I said.
with all the wisdom of twenty-five. "No, I mean-” He stopped, and
"Then if I told you-” it looked as if he was going off into one
But he broke off there, and that absent of those far-away silences again. But he
look came into his eyes again. I admit I didn’t. "No, I mean the principles of
was worried about his sanity. His uncle heredity that make us what we are. A
was, too. I know, because he told me. man doesn’t always resemble his close
But we didn’t either of us know what we kin. There are throwbacks sometimes.
ought to do. You take a case where two dissimilar
breeds have been crossed, white man
H e grew more and more restless and Indian, say. No matter how care¬
fully the alien blood is bred out, sooner
through the winter. He went to
the public library almost every day and or later a child will be born into that
dug into a lot of what would have been family who has all the marks of a full-
called ungodly volumes not so very many blood Indian. Now such things do hap¬
years ago. Folklore. Old legends about pen, not frequently, but often enough to
Atlantis, Antiilia, Lemuria. All he could establish a rule. How do you explain
lay his hands on about archeological re¬ that?”
search in Crete, Egypt, Mexico, Yuca¬ "I don’t know that I ever tried,” I
tan, a dozen other moldy civilizations. told him. "But I suppose it was because
There was nobody to interfere with him. the kid in question wasn’t very choosy.
He had money enough, which his old Instead of taking his hair from grand-
uncle had carefully nursed along for him daddy Jones and his eyes from grand¬
while he was gone. He didn’t have to mother Smith and his short temper from
work. But it did seem a pity for him to great-great-grandfather Whosit, the cattle
throw his life away—as he seemed bent rustler, he just grabbed off all the char¬
on doing. acteristics of old Chief Rain-in-the-Face
And that word "impossible.” It seemed and let it go at that. I dare say such
to haunt him. He wanted to believe things happen oftener than we think.
something, or to make me believe some¬ Where there is no mixture of races it
thing. I got wise to that fact at last. I’d isn’t noticeable, but lots of times you
known for a long time that he must have hear people say, 'I declare I don’t know
stumbled on some discovery or other, who that child takes after, nobody in the
probably remarkable, even epoch-making. family that I ever saw.’ But what’s the
He was eating his heart out about it too. point, O’Farrell?”
He needed, desperately, to let it to the "Just this,” and his face was very in¬
air. But it was a long time before I could tent and sober. "Suppose someone could
get him to talk. And when he did start, inherit all his characteristics from just one
it was just by bits and snatches. I had ancestor, with nothing at all from any of
to piece them together myself. But when the others—what then?”
I did begin to get his drift I was eager "Why, then, probably, he’d be a mon¬
enough for him to go on. key,” I grinned. "At that, they’re bom
 WEIRD TALES

with tails sometimes, you know. You sounds and witchery about him wrought
see it in the papers. And it probably hap¬ him up to a tremendous pitch. He said
pens sometimes, too, when it doesn’t get he just lay there repeating lines about the
into the papers.” sea that had stuck in his mind from Eng¬
"Yes, but”—O’Farrell was dead in lish Lit., especially from Swinburne and
earnest now—"but if he inherited every¬ Tennyson—he’d dug in pretty deep, I re¬
thing from just one ancestor, all his char¬ membered, that last year at the U. He
acteristics of mind as well as body, then quoted a lot of it. He said that night,
wouldn’t he remember all that that an¬ for the first time so far as he was con¬
cestor ever knew?” cerned, "The sea moaned round with
I was dumfounded, and uneasy. But many voices”—and he understood them
I tried to hide my fears. I wanted to all. That for the first time he could ac¬
draw him out, if possible, get at the thing tually feel all "the light and sound and
that was festering in his mind. darkness of the sea.” And at last he
found himself repeating that thing of
"You mean,” I said slowly, feeling my
Masefield’s:
way, "that you would explain in that way
the queer feeling we have sometimes that "Once in a hundred years the lemmings come
Westward, in search of food, over the snow,
we have lived before, that we can almost Westward, until the salt sea drowns them dumb.
remember things which we know we Westward, till all are drowned, those lemmings
SO"
never saw-”
"Exactly!” eagerly. "But if you had And then, he said, altogether without
inherited all your brain from just one his own volition, he had slipped into the
ancestor, then you’d remember clearly, water, and the tide was racing with him
wouldn’t you? Don’t you see that that out to sea. He wasn’t drunk on liquor, I
could happen?” could swear to that myself. A glass too
"Oh, yes,” I granted carelessly. “It much, maybe, but not drunk. But the
might—once in a thousand years.” night had got him, the night and the
“Once in-” He stared at me, his ebbing tide and the moon that controlled
face as white as paper. He looked so the tide.
side I ran and got him a drink. But he He said he wasn’t worried at all. He
got over his agitation shortly. His color exerted himself very little. The tide was
came back. "But that was only a guess carrying him. Even when he began to
you made,” he finished, as if taking com¬ tire he wasn’t actually alarmed. When
fort in the thought. he came in contact with some wooden
"Of course, it was a guess,” impatient¬ thing that floated by him he pulled him¬
ly. “A guess just like yours.” self aboard without any particular feel¬
"No, I’m in earnest,” surprizingly. ing of eagerness or relief. The moon
But he wouldn’t say anything more had paled by that time and the sun was
then. It was weeks before I got the rest not yet up; so he couldn’t see much. He
of it And even yet I doubt if I ever did could hear a sort of drowsy chittering
get it all. and squeaking, though, at the other end
of the raft he was on, a noise that re¬
I T seems that he couldn’t sleep that minded him of mice. But he didn’t in¬
night, out there on the float. That vestigate. He was tired. And, unbeliev¬
luminous, glamorous moonlight, the able as it sounds, he stretched out on the
swiftly running ebb, all the scents and wet boards and slept
W. T.—4
 ONCE IN A THOUSAND YEARS 209

The sun roused him to what, he as¬ on its flood drifted boats of many sizes,
sured me solemnly, was to be the most of many designs, led, or so it seemed to
stupendous day of his life, up to that him, by a stately yacht, white and misty
time. He found himself on a raft, all in the distance, her sails all furled.
right, though he was sure it hadn’t been He simply couldn’t believe what he
built for that purpose. It looked more saw. He looked and looked, but the
like the side of a heavily timbered house, scene remained unchanged — a plain
a house that perhaps had been washed sweep of sunlighted ocean, empty but
away and broken up in flood-time. It for that weird, incredible procession.
rode low in the sea, and shipped water
He was hungry by noon. So were the
constantly, enough to keep everything
field mice. They scampered about un¬
wet. O’Farrell didn’t mind that especial¬
easily, chattering at him, beseeching him
ly, but his companions did.
with their little bright eyes. He was
For he wasn’t alone. At the end of thoroughly alarmed by this time, finally
the raft farthest from him were clustered decided to signal the nearest craft. It was
somewhat less than fifty little brown- too far away for his voice to carry, but,
furred animals with small ears and short caught in a splinter of the raft, there was
tails and tiny, white, sharp teeth. They a weather-stained strip of sodden canvas;
wrinkled their noses at him and made so he used that to signal with.
complaining noises and seemed very The boat just ahead of him put about
damp and unhappy. He supposed they and drew slowly toward him, fighting
were some sort of field mice, though that powerful current every foot of the
they were a little large for that. They way. O’Farrell said it was the trimmest
reminded him of prairie-dogs, he said. gasoline launch he ever saw, fitted up
He began now to be actively concerned with a high-powered engine, but still
about his own safety. There he was, well almost powerless against that inexorable
out of sight of land, aboard a makeshift current. Its only occupant was a girl.
raft which the most sanguine couldn’t She threw him a line as she came along¬
have called seaworthy, with no food un¬ side, and he made it fast to a splintered
less you counted the field mice which he timber. And then he got the biggest
wasn’t hungry enough to do yet, and no shock of the day.
clothing but his bathing-trunks. For¬ For the girl suddenly cried out in a
tunately the sea was calm. Clumsy as it voice that was high with ecstasy and
was, the raft rode levelly, driving as amazement and incredulity all at once.
straight ahead as if by rule and compass. She leaped to the raft, ran over to those
And when he looked overside he under¬ shy, furry little creatures and went to her
stood the reason. A current as strong as knees and held her hands out to them.
that strange ebb tide of the night before “Oh, the dear, dear, funny, timid little
was sweeping it onward—a current where things,” she cried, a sob in her throat.
by rights no current ought to be—a cur¬ “And you brought them! You lucky,
rent of purple-blue, transparent water lucky man! We didn’t know we had any
that was less than fifty feet wide. of them along.”
O’Farrell came cautiously upright in
the center of the raft. As far as he could O ’farrell said he just stood there,
see ahead of him, that dark-colored cur¬ gaping at her, while the little field
rent cut the gray Atlantic in two. And mice sniffed at her fingers and crept into
W. T.—5
210 WEIRD TALES

her hands. He had felt like a man in a furry things had taken complete posses¬
dream ever since he waked, and now he sion of her now. They were as friendly
felt more like one than ever. Even the with her, O’Farrell said, as kittens. It
girl was unlike anyone he had ever seen was pretty to watch her with them, or
before. She was as tall as he was, very would have been if he hadn’t been so
fair, yellow-haired, blue-eyed. But that completely bewildered by it.
doesn’t mean much. It was her features, "And you come upon pictures that
he said, the pure Greek lines like those make you ache with homesickness—you
of the old statues, the grace and swing of don’t know why. Pictures of the sea—
her perfect body, which he found impos¬ and long, smooth beaches of shining
sible to describe. Even her white middy sand—and ships of long ago. Pictures
blouse and skirt, her white shoes and of Greece, Crete, Spain, Philistia. And
hose, couldn’t keep her from making him your half-dreams taunt and mock you,
think of the Winged Victory. But her till at last, just all in a sudden flash of
voice, her accent, were, incredibly, as light, you know.”
truly American as his own.
Her voice trailed off into contented
"Oh, it’s wonderful, after all our silence. O’Farrell made no effort to
years of dreams, to see them coming break it. He couldn’t think of a thing to
true!’’ she was murmuring. "I never say. And when she spoke again her tone
thought I’d actually travel with them. had changed.
Oh!” her voice rose on a note of purest "Why, they’re hungry!” she cried.
music. "All our old dreams, changing "There is no food! Why did you bring no
into reality!” food along? Whatever in the world-”
O’Farrell was stupefied, she was so "I didn’t know I was coming,” he told
amazing, so utterly different from anyone her bluntly. “This whole business”—he
he had ever known. And she was plainly waved his hand toward the sea, the cur¬
so rapt with ecstasy, so absorbed in her rent, the parade of boats—"is no more
happiness, so sure of being in the pres¬ than a nightmare to me. Maybe you can
ence of an understanding and sympa¬ explain it?”
thetic listener, that she had thrown all She sat back on her heels, staring at
reserve to the winds. him in an amazement that matched his
"You know how it begins,” her soft own. Her eyes were enormous in her
voice was almost crooning. "Back in suddenly pale face. She caught her breath
your childhood, when you first begin to sharply in a sudden rush of emotion, the
remember that other world—when bit nature of which he could not have told.
by bit you understand the destiny you "But this is beyond a miracle,” she
were born to—when you first realize why cried. "If you aren’t one of us—if you
it is that you love and long for the sea, didn’t hear the call—how could you
though you never saw it in this life—why come?”
you yearn for a burning moon in place of He told her. She listened intently,
the cold, pale moon you know, for the nodding her head from time to time,
low, yellow stars instead of the far-off slowly and thoughtfully. She looked
points of light you live under, for a sky squarely at him out of eyes that were the
of gorgeous blue instead of the dull sky steadiest, the most candid that he had
up above you-” ever seen.
She drew a deep, long sigh. The little "But this is terrible,” she told him
 ONCE EM A THOUSAND YEARS 211

when he had finished. "I don’t know meet up with anybody who believed that
what they’d do to you,” with a sudden, stuff.”
apprehensive glance at the line of boats “But it isn’t written—what we know,”
ahead. “You can’t possibly escape, and the girl said solemnly. “As for those leg¬
if you don’t even know where we are endary remnants of an ancient history
going-” that you mention—why, don’t you realize
"I don’t. It’s the most impossible ad¬ that there never was a myth or a legend
venture any man ever dreamed about. yet that did not have some foundation in
Can you tell me? Do you know?” fact?”
“Oh, yes, I know.” She smiled. "I am O’Farrell said he couldn’t answer her.
one of those who were born to know— What with the hot sun on his head, the
by inheritance, rather than by learning. glare on the water, and no food for
All of us,” again that gesture toward almost twenty-four hours, his head was
the boats ahead, “are bound for the same going round and round. Perhaps the girl
place—to the kingdom of Atlas—the saw that. Anyhow she came deliberately
Garden of the Hesperides—the Isles of upright, and the little animals she had
the Blest-” been petting clustered around her, run¬
She broke off, watching his face, which ning over her feet.
must. O’Farrell confessed, have seemed a "Did you ever see anyone just like
mask of stupidity. me?” she demanded.
“Can’t you even guess?” she cried. "No,” O’Farrell muttered. "No.”
But he could only shake his head. “Yet all my people are like me. I
“Do you mean,” she asked him in¬ don’t mean the family I was born into.
credulously, “that you know nothing at No. I mean my people”—she waved her
all of that first great civilization from hand—“there—in front of us.” She
which all others spread—that land of looked at him, long and hard. "And
tall, fair men—'for there were giants in you are not one of us. You know none
those days’—which sent its adventurers of the things we know. That will be very
into so many lands? Did you never hear bad for you, because you can not escape.
of Cro-Magnon man, who left his draw¬ And yet you might pass for one of us,
ings and his bones in the caves of France being fair—and tall—though not quite
and Spain? Or the legends of the giants tall enough. And you brought these”—
who lived once in the British Isles? Of she pointed to the little creatures at her
the Pelasgians, the Cyclops, the Titans of feet.
Greece and Asia Minor? Of Hiawatha, “I don’t want to see you made a sacri¬
who came to teach the savage Iroquois? fice,” she went on earnestly. "Maybe if
Of Quetzalcoatl, the Fair God, who came I tell you—but first we must get aboard
to the Aztecs? Does the tale of the sunk¬ the launch. It isn’t wet and sloppy like
en land of Tristram’s Lyonesse mean this thing, and I’ve plenty of food
nothing at all to you?” aboard.”
"Mighty little,” O’Farrell admitted.
"Either you’re crazy or I am. I’ve read S o they made the transfer, field mice
myths and folklore, of course, and as and all. The launch was fairly com¬
much of the Morte d’Arthur and its kin¬ fortable, well stocked with eatables,
dred 'literature’ as they made me swallow. cushions, summer blankets. The girl
But it never occurred to me that I’d ever gave O’Farrell a lounging-robe of hers
212 WEIRD TALES

and a complete man’s yachting-outfit through his head again, and he repeated
which she had worn in a college play. them under his breath:
She had always played men’s parts in the "Once, it is thought, there was a westward land,
girls’ plays, she said. (Now drowned) where there was food for those
starved things,
He went into the tiny cabin and tried And memory of the place has burnt its brand
them on. They fitted him—and O’Far¬ In the little brains of all the lemming kings.”
rell was six feet tall! But she advised "Yes, it was there—the Greek Isles of
him to save the suit for the day of their the Blest—Odysseus sailed west to find
"arrival”, so he wore the lounging-robe them—and they still are there, only the
instead. land between is lost and drowned—lost
It must have taken about a week, he and drowned as the poor little lemmings
reckons, to make that incredible journey. are, those who try to go when it is not
He lay on the deck most of the time, the appointed time.”
under the awning, trying to figure things "Do you remember the last lines?”
out and not succeeding. He had no O’Farrell asked. "Listen!
theory, no answer to the puzzle presented "But now the land is drowned, yet still we press
by that girl. She spent the nights in the Westward, in search, to death, to nothingness.
little cabin, but all day she was outside, "Is that for us?”
always in fresh, plain, white clothes, "No, not for us. That is-”
always as perfectly appointed as if she And she sat there for a long time, her
were actually chiseled of the marble she chin on her hand, watching the cloud¬
so resembled. And she was always coolly, like hills on the far horizon. Yet it must
impersonally friendly toward O’Farrell. have been by faith alone that she was so
But she showed actual tenderness toward sure that the land was there. To O’Far¬
those pets of hers. rell it seemed much more like a mirage,
She had told him her name the first a fantasmagoria, a fata morgana. The
day. Diana. That was all. It fitted her hills changed so, now like a low continu¬
superbly, he thought. ous range, now rearing in tall spire-like
peaks, now resembling glaciers, icebergs,
They were evidently quite off the
or ruined, battlemented castles. And as
steamer lanes. They met no craft, sighted
they drew nearer, the land seemed actual¬
no land; till, early one morning, the hazy
ly to divide, to break up precisely as a
outlines of lofty hills stood blue against
fleet might do, even to advance and re¬
the sky.
cede in strange and complicated evolu¬
"The Isle of Saint Brandan,” the girl
tions, while over it hung always a waver¬
whispered softly. "Sailors used to sight
ing mass of rainbow-colored mist.
it, but when they tried to reach it, it was
"Do you wonder now,” the girl asked
never there.”
him in a hushed, enraptured voice, "that
"Is that where we are going?” O’Far¬ the sailors used to tell such strange tales
rell wanted to know. of Saint Brandan’s Isle—how they sight¬
"That is where we are going. For we ed its green hillsides and its clear streams,
shall reach it—we and the lemmings. and how it vanished like a mirage when¬
We were summoned, as others are sum¬ ever they came near it?”
moned—once in a thousand years.” "I can remember one legend about a
Lemmings! He understood now. Those Portuguese who landed there,” O’Far¬
lines of Masefield’s went swimming rell answered dryly. "The natives feast-
 ONCE IN A THOUSAND YEARS 213

ed and wined him to the king’s own "Atlantis!” But he realized that he
taste. But when he awoke he was adrift wasn’t really surprized.
alone on the ocean. And when he "Atlantis, which was never completely
reached home he found his sweetheart destroyed, which still exists in the Sar¬
had been dead a hundred years or so. gasso Sea, a country so completely gov¬
They showed him her tomb, I remember, erned by science that its people can
by her husband’s, along with the tombs always avoid their enemies, so never have
of her seven daughters and her seven to fight them.”
sons. I wouldn’t like that.” "So that tale Plato told of the At-
"That was only a myth,” she objected. lanteans attacking Athens is substantially
"Haven’t you said a hundred times true?”
that all myths have a foundation in fact?” "Of course. And if you want to live,
"Yes,” reluctantly. "And it might you must believe as I believe, and seem
have happened with him as it has hap¬ to remember as I remember. For if you
pened with you. It is a miracle, of course. show doubt or ignorance, I am afraid
But miracles can happen—once in a you’ll die.”
thousand years.” And then, O’Farrell said, she talked to
"You mean, I suppose, that the sum¬ him a long time, carefully going over
mons—as you call it—comes just once in and elaborating all she had told him—
a thousand years?” all that he must, for safety’s sake, be able
"Yes, that is what I mean.” to "remember”. He had been through
"And what is to happen to us?” so much already, he said, that nothing
For the first time, O’Farrell said, he had the power to astonish him any more.
saw trouble in her face. Her eyes, when And in spite of the threat of danger in
they met his, were clouded, her fine it, this unheard-of adventure began to
mouth quivered. appeal to his Irish soul. If he could ever
"For myself there can be nothing but get away and tell the world about it-
good,” she answered. "But for you, who The girl’s voice broke in upon his
come by accident, I don’t know. They thoughts.
will not like it. And it lingers in my "You’d better dress now. I imagine
mind, like some far-off recollection only our reception will be something gor¬
half remembered, that they can be very geous, Atlantis welcomes visitors from
cruel, at times.” die outside world just once in a thou¬
"In the matter of human sacrifice, per¬ sand years, you know.”
haps?”
She winced. Her breath came sharply. H e obeyed her, as he had got in the
"It used to be so,” she admitted, un¬ habit of doing. When he came out
willingly. "And I suppose they still offer of the cabin again, he noticed for the
sacrifices to their god of the sea—Posei¬ first time long streamers of drifting sea¬
don. You know”—gently—"the Mayas weed. It grew thicker and thicker as
of Central America did that too; only, they went along, swirling down the cur¬
being an inland people, they had to rent ahead of them, behind them, beside
throw their sacrifice into an artificial pool. them. But it did not interfere with them.
They had had their messenger, too, just The current took care of that.
as the Aztecs and the Iroquois had, from And always the land ahead continued
Atlantis.” its changes before their eyes, resolved itself
214 WEIRD TALES

at last into a wide-horned crescent of flat The boats were drawn into a line now,
white beaches and tall palaces and towers a line that curved in the middle, a cres¬
and fair, green, colorful gardens, against cent to match that other crescent of the
a background of softly folded, mist-en¬ shore. And the islets swept together in a
shrouded hills. The pure beauty of it circle about them, formed an atoll, leav¬
made them gasp. ing the boats in a still lagoon. The cur¬
The boats were crowded closely to¬ rent which had brought them had spent
gether now. O’Farrell could see the oc¬ itself, dissolved. Another force had swept
cupants of several of them. And they the islets into place, was moving the
were all very much alike—all tall, all boats toward the land. And, as a climax
fair, all yellow-haired and blue-eyed, like to all the rest, the mists which had hung
the girl Diana. And they, like her, were above the hills swept downward and
all tremendously excited. Well, O’Farrell outward into a vast, circular curtain, com¬
was excited too, but not so enthusiastic as pletely blotting out all the world outside.
the rest. "Now, in the name of all the pagan
And then, before O’Farrell’s dazed, gods at once!” muttered O’Farrell to the
incredulous eyes, dozens of islets broke girl beside him. "Do these people know
away from the tips of the crescent’s how to control the elements too?”
horns, came swinging through the quiet The girl Diana smiled serenely.
sea toward the boats. Each of these tiny "Atlantis is very old and very wise,”
isles was perfect in itself, seemed to be she told him quietly. "And its people
the very embodiment of some artist’s have known neither war nor invasion nor
dream of an enchanted land. Many were famine nor pestilence for eleven thou¬
flower gardens, ablaze with unbelievable sand years. So, why shouldn’t they have
color, alive with circling song-birds. One learned all that man can know in this
held a lonely palm tree, leaning a little in world?”
the southern wind, rooted in a long nar¬ The boats swept nearer and nearer
row beach where bits of white coral toward the shore, with constantly dimin¬
rolled in the swirling water. Another ishing speed. The sheer beauty and per¬
bore a shrine with a white altar, vine- fection of the scene, O’Farrell said,
wreathed and smoking with incense, struck him dumb. The broad white
before which a group of children decked beach, the steps and balconies of the tall
in the goatskins and hoofs and horns of white buildings, the terraces of the green
fauns were playing on flute-like pipes hills—Plato’s mounds, O’Farrell recog¬
made of reeds. nized—swarmed with tall, fair people.
“ 'Pipes o’ Pan’ ”, O’Farrell thought. The men were garbed in tunics and kir-
" 'Horns of elfland’—and all the rest of tles, white in color, sandals and greaves
it. The thing’s impossible. Thirst and of yellow leather, and great tall head¬
the sun got me on that cursed raft and dresses ornamented with yellow feathers
I’m delirious. . Well, it’s a pleasant set in a fanwise spread from left to right.
enough way to die.” The women were bareheaded except for
But even as he told himself that, he jeweled fillets, and wore soft flowing
says he knew he lied. And, robes of every imaginable tint. And in
"Remember the floating gardens of the foreground, extending all along the
Mexico,” the girl murmured, very low. beach, was a chorus of young men and
"No doubt they were copied from these.” maidens, singing. The sound of their
 ONCE IN A THOUSAND YEARS 213

voices surpassed anything O’Farrell had me. They’ll soon know I’m a fraud-”
ever heard. "No!” she cried in a vehement whis¬
But the girl Diana put out a hand and per. "No! They shan’t!”
touched him on the arm. She was trem¬
bling violently, and when he turned to T he boats touched land.
and the girl got ashore somehow.
O’Farrell
look at her, he saw that her face was as
white as chalk. The lemmings scampered after them,
were snatched up and petted by a hun¬
"That song,” she whispered in a shak¬
dred hands. And then the chorus of
ing voice. "I can understand every word
voices and of strings rose to an exultant,
of it—and you, of course, nothing at
triumphant paean of joy and praise. The
all!”
crowd pressed close. The whole scene
"Not one word,” he said.
became utterly unreal and dream-like. A
"Then—then-” Her tormented
perfect babble of incomprehensible words
eyes were pleading. "Oh, I never
assailed O’Farrell’s ears. He could not
thought once about the language! I never
have made himself heard if he had
dreamed that I’d understand it! I had
wanted to. A group of old men, dressed
never heard it in the world outside, so
in long yellow robes embroidered with
how could I know? But—don’t you
curious, mystical designs, and miter-like
see?—you must be careful. You must
head-dresses of gold, appeared suddenly
say that the ancestor from whom you in¬
in front of him. They were, he surmised,
herit left Atlantis in the earliest times.
priests of the Atlantean religion. The
They were invaded from the mainland
foremost, doubtless the high priest,
once — the language must have al¬
tered-” waved a veritable caduceus over O’Far¬

O’Farrell shook his head slowly. He rell’s and the girl’s heads in a gesture of
consecration. Then they passed on, were
felt, he said, as the "hero” of an old
hidden by the crowd.
Greek tragedy must have felt—like one
caught in a net and dragged, compelling- With a little cry the girl Diana broke
ly, inexorably, toward some unknown and away and ran toward one of the new¬
unwelcome end. His had been a passive comers, who was looking at her with a
part from the beginning. He was utter¬ wild, delighted incredulity. It was a man
ly helpless, and knew it. He had no who wore the uniform of a colonel of
idea what might be coming, but whatever English infantry, with a string of ribbons
it was he must take it with as much across his breast. He looked to be near¬
fortitude as he was able. ing fifty, lean and tall and weary. He
"What is the use of lying?” he whis¬ walked with a limp. His left arm was
pered back. "I’ll never be able to get by stiff. And a long scar, as if from a bayo¬
with it. They’d better know in the be¬ net cut, ran down his left cheek. The girl
ginning-” had gone straight into his arms.
"No, no, no!” She was tugging at his The throng divided. Great swaying
arm with both hands now. "Promise me elephants, caparisoned in yellow silk, and
you’ll do as I tell you. Promise me!” bearing howdahs of white ivory, made a
"All right,” he assented, "but I’m lane for the newcomers. An elderly man
afraid it won’t help much. I know so wearing priestly garments emerged from
little—Plato’s writings—what I can re¬ the crowd and pressed a sort of diadem
member of them—and what you’ve told set with flashing stones down upon
216 WEIRD TALES

O’Farrell’s head. Metal pads fitted firm¬ "Then you shall be called Gadir
ly behind O’Farrell’s ears, and on the among us—Gadir, the bringer of the
instant, though the words of the singers, sacred lemmings. Your old name,” with
the babble around him still sounded out¬ a slight gesture of his hand as if flicking
landish and strange, it all became in¬ from him a grain of dust, "your old name
telligible to him. will be forgotten. Let me have your left
"I am Otar,” the old man said, smiling wrist, if you please.”
at O’Farrell’s look of incredulity, "of the O’Farrell obeyed. How could he do
healing branch of the priesthood. And otherwise? But he watched with some
this instrument is a mechanical inter¬ trepidation while the priest-physician
preter of tongues. We find it useful in drew what looked like a capsule of glass
helping newcomers to adjust themselves from a pocket and held it against O’Far¬
for the first few days. So today we are rell’s wrist. He felt but the slightest
all wearing them in one shape or anoth¬ prickle. Then the old priest pocketed
er.” For a moment he studied O’Farrell the glass again.
through his shrewd, keen eyes. "And "A matter of precaution," he ex¬
who was your honored Atlantean an¬ plained. "The outside world is, we
cestor, my son? Do not hesitate to use know, a place of hideous suffering and
your native tongue. Whatever you say, I disease. But now—you will not believe
shall be able to understand.” And he me, since your ancestor left us before our
touched his head-dress significantly. great discoveries were made—but now
O’Farrell braced himself. It was, he you will never know a moment’s illness
realized, now or never. again.”
"My ancestor left Atlantis very young,” And before O’Farrell had time to
he improvised with the facility of des¬ thank him he had bowed ceremoniously
peration. "Atlantis had been invaded, and vanished in the crowd.
and he remembered little of it but the Others, many others, came up and
misery and oppression his people suffered spoke to O’Farrell now, briefly or at
at the hands of their conquerors. He length, making him welcome, praising
had dreams of human sacrifice and games him for the bringers of good fortune—
that ran with blood. He went as armor- the lemmings—which he had brought,
bearer with an expedition to the main¬ asking him eager questions of the outside
land to make war upon a city afterward world, of which they had had no news
known as Athens. He was captured by for a thousand years. But now a proces¬
these early Athenians and so never re¬ sion was forming. O’Farrell was led to
turned to Atlantis.” a kneeling elephant, helped into the
"Ah, that is extremely interesting!” gorgeous howdah. The girl Diana and
exclaimed Otar, his blue eyes bright with the English colonel followed. The el¬
interest. “And what was that armor- ephant lurched to its feet and they were
bearer’s name?” off.
"His name was Gadir.” O’Farrell pro¬ Before them paced at least two score
nounced firmly the only Atlantean name of elephants. As many more were behind
which Plato knew. After all, it was them. Only the newcomers and the body
something to claim descent from the of priests rode. The rest of the people
man for whom the Pillars of Herakles— danced. Danced, literally, to an almost
the Rock of Gibraltar—had been named! delirious music, in what seemed to be a
 ONCE IN A THOUSAND YEARS 217

complete abandon of joy. Escorted by The Englishman laughed gently.

the whirling figures, they turned into a "Not in the air, my lad, but in that
wide, white-paved avenue. Towering ichor in your blood-stream,” he amend¬
buildings stood on either side, flush with ed. "Crock that I am, it has made me
the pavement. But there were no people feel different too. No more pain—no
at the windows or on the balconies. more disease. No death till the heart
Everyone, plainly, was in the street. simply wears out and stops its work—or
is stopped by violence. Ah, but one must
T he girl Diana leaned forward from
her seat between O’Farrell and the
wish he could tell the world about it.”
"The world wouldn’t believe,” the
Englishman. Her eyes were rapt, ecstatic. girl Diana said._"Or if it did, it would
"It’s like the rarest sorcery,” she want to rob us of our secrets and then,
sighed. "If one hadn’t been prepared for most likely, destroy us.”
it so long, it would be unbelievable.” The Englishman sighed.
"A land so self-contained,” the Eng¬ "You are probably right, my dear.”
lishman mused, "that it has no need of He turned to O’Farrell again. “You and
the rest of the world; so versed in the my new daughter are the only Americans
arts of concealment that it need not fear here. I am the only Englishman. There
the world; so wise, so happy that it does are two Irishmen, a Welshman, and a
not envy the world—yes, it is, as you say, Scandinavian. The rest, as one might ex¬
unbelievable.” pect, are from the rim of the Mediterra¬
The girl looked shyly at O’Farrell. nean—from Egypt, Spain, France, Crete,
"Colonel Carter’s ancestor who be¬ Greece, Italy, Asia Minor—where At-
queathed him his memories was the father lanteans settled long ago. There were
of the ancestor who gave me mine,” she eleven Greeks who came together on that
said simply. "We knew each other in¬ yacht. But then, the old Greeks were
stantly.” certainly direct descendants.”
"And,” interposed the Englishman,
Again his keen blue eyes rested in
before O’Farrell could speak, "since she
what seemed a trace of puzzlement on
can not remember her father, and since
O’Farrell’s face.
my daughter—an only child—was killed
"And you brought the lemmings. That
in an air raid over London nineteen years
was a fine thing, certainly.”
ago, we have agreed to be as father and
daughter. It is very good of her,” he "More an accident than anything else,”

added, gently. O’Farrell told him. "I stumbled on them,

"It’s more than I can quite take in,” on the way. It was Diana who fed and

O’Farrell ventured dazedly. His eyes cared for them. Thank her, not me.”

were on that beautiful, gracious street, A faint pucker grew between the Eng¬
on the lumbering elephants ahead, on the lishman’s fine brows. The girl gave
beautiful, rejoicing people who whirled O’Farrell a warning look.
and danced. His ears were hypnotized "He was washed off his own—craft,”
by a music of voices, of pipes, of strings, she hastened to explain. "I was lucky
of horns, such as surely the world out¬ enough to be able to pick them up. We
side had never known. "There’s some¬ came on together, you know.”
thing in the air that—lifts you up,” he “Yes, I know. Poor little beasts,” re¬
added. turning to the lemmings. “To think of
218 WEIRD TALES

remembering for more than eleven thou¬

sand years! Tiny, tiny brains to nourish
T hey went a long way. Where the
light came from he could not tell,
faith so long. Because their ancestors but though they must have penetrated
made annual migrations, like the wild deeply into the earth, the darkness never
geese and the ducks and the ill-fated pas¬ became complete. Always they could see
senger pigeons, they still try it 'once in a the elephant ahead of them, the howdah
hundred years.’ If only they knew that swaying, ghost-like, on its back, till sud¬
it is only once in a thousand!” denly it knelt, then lurched to its feet
"It puts our own faith to shame,” the again, then disappeared.
girl said. Their own elephant knelt. Shadowy
“And yet inherited memories are forms helped them to alight, lowered
probably more common than we think. voices bade them follow. So they climbed
Ours are entire. But consider the broken a high stairway of broad, shallow steps,
ones. And there are so many! One man fairly well lighted though they could not
may be lucky enough to be bom with the tell from what source, to a narrow door¬
genius of a great poet of centuries ago, way. Still following their conductors,
and 'gain much fame thereby’. Another they went through.
gets enough to put him in a madhouse—
They came out into an enormous bal¬
dreaming that he is King Solomon or
cony, set with tables and benches. Other
Napoleon Bonaparte. Oh, I speak feel¬
balconies were above this, still others be¬
ingly on the subject! I raved of my At-
neath, sweeping in immense circles above
lantean memories so much in that French
the huge arena below.
hospital back in 1918 that they thought
The central feature of this arena was
I was mad. If I had not been lucky in my
a high altar smoking with incense. Its
connections, and known to be greatly in¬
white marble sides were painted with
terested in ancient civilizations, I should
beautifully executed designs—the swas¬
be in a strait jacket now, I dare say. As
tika; the Cretan double ax; Atlas with
for those other poor chaps-” He
the sky on his shoulders; a winged horse,
made a quick gesture with his uninjured
soaring; Medusa’s head; the lemmings;
hand. "Well, we are lucky. Let us be Poseidon riding a storm at sea; the bu-
thankful.”
cranium—the head of the sacrificial bull
He fell into a brooding silence. O’Far¬ —with fillets; the minotaur.
rell had no wish to break it. Nor did he Above it all arched a dome of the color
dare to ask where they were going. of a summer sky at midnight. The sweep¬
Doubtless he was expected to know. ing zodiac with its twelve signs, the
They paced slowly down the street. A twelve planets which the Atlanteans, and
great arch presently confronted them. —later—the Aztecs had known, blazed in
The elephants passed through into a this artificial heaven, giving light.
narrow, shadowy enclosure, began the The girl Diana touched his arm, drew
descent of an ever winding, ever dark¬ his attention from the unparalleled
ening road. It must lead to a temple, grandeur of that gorgeous ceiling to his
O’Farrell surmised. All the old races had more immediate surroundings. He fol¬
worshipped in caves, he knew, as witness lowed her and the Englishman to one of
the Cretan labyrinth. He hoped, with the tables and sat down. He saw that the
an inward shudder, that there would be balcony was filled, though not over¬
no sacrifices. crowded. Filled too were such portions
 ONCE IN A THOUSAND YEARS 219

of the other balconies as he could see. constant outflow of the more restless to
All about him was a hushed murmur of neighboring lands of the north, south,
conversation. east and west; recurring earthquakes and
Boys and girls came in presently, bear¬ human as well as animal sacrifices to
ing trays of food and wine which they placate the gods; invasion by an alien
placed upon the tables. These young peo¬ people and exile of many of the original
ple, O’Farrell decided, were neither race; finally the great ocean wave which
slaves nor servants. They had all the air broke up and almost destroyed the king¬
of hosts looking after the comfort of dom.
honored guests. Indeed, he realized sud¬ O’Farrell had sat spellbound. He had
denly that he had not yet seen anyone forgotten himself, his predicament, his
who seemed to be a servitor, nor any danger. It was as if the panorama of
officials other than the priests. And he thirty thousand years had been unrolled
found the food, the drinks, though utter¬ before him.
ly unfamiliar to him, to be extraordinarily But now the scene changed. Dancers,
good. chorus and music-makers drew aside, be¬
Into the arena below filed the chorus came a background for the procession
which had welcomed them on the beach. which now entered the arena. These were
Their musicians were with them—with the older priests in their lavishly em¬
harps of various shapes, though none too broidered, yellow robes and mitered
large to carry, pipes, small horns, odd¬ head-gear, bearing scepter-like wands of
shaped lutes, a drum. A vast wave of gold; the high priest, who had ex¬
melody rolled up to the silent people. changed his caduceus for a golden double-
Dancers swept in, a medley, un¬ ax; half-naked youths, each of whom led
earthly, beautiful yet somehow terrible, in a filleted, snow-white bull; young
an awful unmasking of the ancient pag¬ girls in long, white robes and chaplets of
eantry of the new-made earth. Goat- white flowers.
shepherd Pan with his fauns and satyrs, "The sacrifice!” O’Farrell exclaimed
who hunted animals and dressed like under his breath, and felt the blood cur¬
them. A god-like, golden Prometheus, dle around his heart.
who brought down a flaming torch from "Oh, no,” the Englishman whispered.
the sky. The first horse-tamers, the cen¬ "Watch!”
taurs. Nymphs and dryads decked with And the girl Diana gave him another
leaves, and with flowers in their hair. look of warning and entreaty.
Warriors in helmets and armor. At last, And then O’Farrell saw enacted, down
the thinkers, priests of Atlantis in their there in that huge arena, a thing quite
yellow robes. new and modern and yet as old as the
In turn they wove an intricate pattern oldest ritual of the ancient cult of the
of a myriad figures, fantastic yet weirdly bull. One by one the beautiful long¬
beautiful. And suddenly O’Farrell began horned bulls were released. One by one
to understand. The music, the chanting, the young men leaped at them, seized
the dance, were all parts of a single their polished horns, and, in spite of the
symbolism. The age-old history of At¬ bulls’ frantic struggles, pinned them to
lantis was being enacted before him. the earth. Each bull received a mock blow
There was shown the slow, measured from the golden double-ax in the high
development of a primitive people, the priest’s hand, was led away.
220 WEIRD TALES

Then the young priestesses marched in "And you know, too, you who are
a demure procession around the altar, descended from Atlas and Poseidon, that
and threw incense by handfuls upon the the little ones, the lemmings, they who
smoking fire, chanting their vows mean¬ once gnawed loose the bonds of Posei¬
while to serve Atlantis’ altar-fires for a don’s sea horses and set them free, made
year-long term of chastity and prayer. pilgrimages to our old land each year in
the long ago. But when Poseidon in his
O ’FARRELL drew a deep breath of re¬
lief. No bloodshed there! But the
anger at our disobedience and iniquities
had overwhelmed the land which stood
original ceremony from which this one between, they could no longer reach us.
was directly descended—ah, that, cer¬ Yet they tried, , at certain times, and were
tainly, had literally run with blood! swallowed up and lost.”
The high priest raised his hand. His voice, which had sunk to a mourn¬
"Children of the sun and of Atlantis,” ful cadence, suddenly ceased. He spread
he cried. "You know why we are gath¬ his hands. And, as if by magic, out from
ered here. You know that when the gods behind the smoking altar scampered the
were wroth with us, when the earth split lemmings, chattering, running this way
and the waters rose and the heavens and that.
poured fire upon us, even then the more Applause burst from the people, wild,
merciful of our gods raised up leaders deafening, and lasting long. But at last
among us to save the remnants of our the high priest raised his hand, and silence
people and our land. They—these merci¬ fell. His voice came again, triumphant
ful ones—taught us how to set our bro¬ now.
ken isles adrift, how to bring them to¬ "These did not die! The mighty
gether, how to separate them again. Poseidon sent them to us, a sign of his
They taught us how to control the mists favor, of his forgiveness, of his promise
of the air and the currents of the sea, to preserve us—for another thousand
how to remain for ever invisible to our years! And he chose as his instruments
enemies. And last, because they knew a youth and a maiden who came together.
that every race must have new blood in Let them, therefore, descend and stand
order to survive, they taught us how to before me, that all Atlantis may behold
summon our own from the outside world and honor those whom our father
—once in a thousand years!” Poseidon has pointed out as his most
A very old man, that high priest. He favored children.”
took a step forward now, and lifted his Dazed and thunderstruck, O’Farrell
arms high. felt the girl Diana’s hand take his. It
"We welcome you as our own, those was as cold as ice. But she did not speak.
of you who have come today from the Together they threaded their way among
far-flung parts of the earth. Ours is a the tables, down the stair, along a shad¬
happy land where every man works, and owy passage, through a door. At last
every man plays, and every man rests, they were in the center of the arena, a
eats, sleeps according to his need, and hand of the high priest rested on each
every woman the same. Forget, then, head.
violence, injustice, ugliness, the cold of "All Atlantis thanks you,” the old man
frost, the burning heat of the sun. There finished simply.
are none of those things here. "Ah, it was nothing to be thanked
 ONCE IN A THOUSAND YEARS 221'

for,” Diana said, a catch in her voice. lantean worship was a cruel and bloody
"It was a duty, an obligation, and a thing!”
pleasure bqrond all telling. We loved to "How did he oome?”
do it.” "By accident only. The current caught
"And,” O’Farrell added, feeling it in¬ him—him and the lemmings. He could
cumbent upon him to say something and not help but come. And he shall not die!
not knowing what to say, "we hope, now I appeal to the people!” Her voice rose
that they are here, that they will grow in to a scream. "He shall not die!”
numbers year by year, so you will never "He shall not die!” It was the Eng¬
be without them again.” lishman. He was standing, his right arm
And then it seemed to him that the thrown upward, palm out, in the univer¬
atmosphere was charged with something sal gesture of friendship, peace.
dreadful, as if the sky had cracked, or the And "He shall not die!” came in
earth opened, or the sea forsook its bed. shouts from this section and that as the
Silence. Like the dead weight of a night¬ newcomers leaped to their feet. O’Far¬
mare, like the awful certainty of death. rell could distinguish them by their dress,
but not for long. For in a moment they
At last the high priest’s voice came in
were hidden by the up-surging multitude.
a strangled whisper—a whisper that yet
"He shall not die!” shouted Atlantis
seemed to reverberate to the remotest
with one voice. "He brought us the lem¬
corner under that blazing dome.
mings! He shall not die!”
"Who are you?" he demanded. "How
"The lemmings, and good fortune
did you come here if you do not know—
with them for a thousand years,” the
is it indeed possible you do not remem¬
girl Diana cried. "The people have
ber?—that the lemmings, like the wild
spoken. He shall go in peace.”
geese and the salmon and so many other
"The people have spoken,” assented
creatures, must go north in the spring to
the high priest. "There shall be no blood
breed?”
on my hands tonight. Shall he remain or
And then O’Farrell knew that he was
shall he depart? It is for him to choose.”
done.
But O’Farrell stood still, too over¬
"Deceit, imposture, falsehood,” came whelmed with bewilderment and uncer¬
the inexorable voice of the high priest. tainty to speak. The shocks had been too
"These things have always borne the many and too close together. He was at
brand of treason, and treason is punish¬ that moment incapable of choice.
able by death.” His voice rose to a lam¬ The girl looked at him, long and
entable cry. "I am accursed, that the hard. A queer little smile rested on her
duty has devolved upon me to condemn a lips for a moment. She made a slight,
man to death!” despairing movement with her hands. At
"No!” the girl cried in a desperate last she spoke.
voice. "No! He had no intention to de¬ "He would never be happy with us*
ceive. It was I who made him do that. Let him go.”
I did not know—my memories were too They put him in her boat, O’Farrell
old to tell me—that now you worship said. It was night then, but the sky was
only the more merciful of the Atlantean clear and the moon and the stars hung
gods. My ancestor went with Quetzal- low. They brought him food and pres¬
coatl to America. And at that time At¬ ents of all sorts, and said many kind
222 WEIRD TALES

things to him. They didn’t want him to came near us for—well, something like
go. That was plain. But he was still too two years, I imagine. You lose track of
numbed to combat the girl’s decision— time out there—and,” wearily, "you have
she had guided him so long. He let her lots of time to think.”
guide him now. So—he went. "Well?” I said, for I knew there must
For a little while he could see the be something more.
land behind him. But presently it seemed "Oh, I came home. But I had proof
to break up, to be floating in fragments while I was there that I hadn’t dreamed
of beauty on the bosom of the sea, at about—Altantis. It was true. For that
last to be no more than a mist, a mirage, shot in the arm the priest gave me did
a dream of faery. , . . what he said it would. At least two-
thirds of the natives died of that plague.
“T> UT,” I demanded then, incredulous- The mate and the two sailors died—hor¬
-D ly, "why didn’t you come home? ribly. But I stayed right with them and
You were gone three years or more. And did all I could for them and wasn’t sick
this adventure, you say, took up hardly a day. That’s proof, I think. And it’s
more than a week!” quite likely that I’ll live to be a hundred

"And at that I was luckier than the or more—just as that Portuguese did—
whether I want to or not.”
Portuguese who spent one night there
"And now you wish you had stayed
and took a hundred years to get back
home,” O’Farrell answered, with a when you had the chance, or that you
could go back?”
strange smile. "But my further adven¬
I don’t know why, but I was quite cer¬
tures were commonplace enough. The
tain of his answer before he spoke.
Atlanteans had done all they could for
"Oh, yes.” He sat still a long time,
me, but they couldn’t give me gasoline.
twisting his pipe between his fingers. "I
So when the stock in the boat gave out,
which was soon, I drifted. A tramp want to go back. But I can’t. That cur¬
rent won’t flow again for another thou¬
picked me up, a privately owned trading-
sand years. I was a fool, a poor, blind
vessel with no wireless. She was bound
fool. It’s hell, you know, just plain
for the South Pacific, and I had to go,
hell-” His head drooped forward a
willy-nilly—around the Horn—stopping
little, hopelessly. "It’s hell to love a
to trade first one place and another—till
woman—and not have sense enough to
we came to the very jumping-off place of
find it out—till after you have lost her—
the world, it seemed to me. And that
for ever.”
was a plague-stricken place—typhus, the
And after a while he repeated in a
mate said it was. He and two sailors and
voice of indescribable weariness and bit¬
I were left there. We were on shore
terness:
when the captain found out about the
epidemic, and he simply lifted anchor "Perhaps, long since, there was a land beyond.
Westward from death, some city, some calm place.
and left us—in a blue funk, I suppose. Where one could taste God's quiet and be fond
With the little beauty of a human face;
"But it’s plain he spread the news of
"But now the land is drowned, yet still we press
the sickness, for there wasn’t a boat that Westward, in search, to death, to nothingness,”
 By ARTHUR WILLIAM BERNAL
rA stupendous weird novel of a space bandit whose exploits made
him a veritable Robin Hood of the airways

P The Story Thus Far

RINCE TORGENY, a handsome
young nobleman of the terrestrial
my, High Prince Fane, Overlord of Earth.
With him is sent a beloved comrade,
Feloth the Wise, an aged scientist who
court, is doomed to exile on the is blind. Torgeny vows he will return
prison planet Triton, by his ruthless ene¬ from across millions of miles of space to
ma story began in Wiili 9 TALUS for Jane 223
224 WEIRD TALES

avenge himself on the Overlord who had miraculously accurate steel arm. Prince
cost him so much wo. Satan becomes invincible among mortals.
Aboard the Oila, the prison ship, Stul- Satan names his sleek cruiser the Space
ly, her drunken captain, disfigures Tor- Waif.
geny for life by a savage lash-cut across As a consequence of his prowess,
the face. Inflamed with wrath, Torgeny Threepa, a Venusian renegade who is a
gets one of the crew of Martians—giant rival for pirate supremacy, challenges
redmen sold to Stully as slaves—to free Satan to a duel and is accepted. By trick¬
him, and leads an attack against the ery, Threepa sends out three ships against
brutal captain. After a battle, in which Satan’s one. Satan "burns” one, then*
Torgeny’s left arm is seared into useless¬ flees. Threepa’s other two vessels follow
ness by a blast from Stully’s ray-gun, the in hot pursuit and the Venusian bucca¬
exile secures control of the prison ship. neer feels triumph in his grasp, when all
By efforts of his aides, Stully and his at once Satan’s cruiser apparently van¬
men meet death in the void, leaving Tor¬ ishes from space!
geny in full possession of the vessel. The story continues:
Through extremely strange circum¬
stances, the Oila is landed safely in a
hiding-place somewhere within the depths
9. Satan Duels with Drexx
of the Jovian satellite, Ganymede, a com¬
pact little world with breathable air. O ne instant Prince Satan’s cruiser
Here is founded a stronghold by Tor¬ was limping along just beyond
geny and his huge peasant Martians, reach of the expectant space-lord, and the
which tiny kingdom he names Home. To next there was the mushrooming billow
outfit Home snugly and adequately, Tor¬ of a tremendous blast from white-hot pro¬
geny finds himself forced to forage among pulsion tubes, and the Space Waif flicked
space-transports for supplies. Eventually out of existence in a trail of coruscating
he becomes a thorough corsair, one whose fire.
skill and fearlessness make him greatly Thus it seemed to the xanthic-eyed
feared by all. Officially, Prince Torgeny Threepa, as he gaped in wonderment at
is listed as dead. his seeing-charts. But in reality, Satan,
Feloth fashions for the crippled exile having tired of his cat-and-mouse tactics
an arm and hand of gleaming steel to and observing that the two pursuing ves¬
replace the left limb lost in the battle sels behind were strung out a great dis¬
on the prison ship. Science again proves tance apart, had merely given the re¬
the supremacy of machine over flesh, and sponsive Space Waif a surge of full
with his metal forearm Torgeny becomes power from the thunderous coronium
a superman. His dangerous escapades motors; now he was wheeling back in a
bring him the name of Prince Satan, Lord great circle toward the rearmost Venusian
of the Great Blackness. He becomes the ship, at an incredible velocity.
most-wanted man in the annals of the The Earthman, agonized and clinging
space-police. leadenly to his control panel from the
A secret, which Feloth keeps locked effects of his additional acceleration, was
inside his brain, results in affording Sa¬ on his prey and swooping past her, all
tan’s space-ship the most powerful motors beams blazing haphazardly, before that
ever devised, utilizing synthetic coronium vessel was aware that the enemy had even
as a fuel. With his super-ship and his commenced to double back. Certainly
W.T.—5
 SATAN IN EXILE 223

her captain never dreamed of being at¬ lice, though he burned with shame even
tacked from the rear! to think of it. Threepa the Scourge ask¬
Threepa watched his view-plates fade ing the police for help! Anyway, it was
into momentary blank grayness as they impossible, because his infernal screens
were suddenly overtaxed by a titanic flare completely nullified waves of all the
of incandescence, marking the destruc¬ major lengths save those of light itself—
tion of his second ship. He snapped on and it distorted even those. If he could
his defense screens full-strength without let his screens down for just one second
more ado, although he was only dimly . . . but one second would be quite
aware of what had happened. Imme¬ enough for Satan to blow him clean out
diately the high whining of the purifiers of space.
ground protestingly down-scale a few Something had to be done soon if Sa¬
notes as power rushed hullward to the tan continued to stay on the scene. Why
protective envelope, and Threepa ordered didn’t he run out of oxygen and pull off?
the spare oxygen tanks opened .10. Threepa cursed himself in several tongues
He was just in time with his defense. for selecting so deserted a stretch of the
The Space Waif was hastily decelerating void. Despite that long chase and all
almost opposite the Vroola in another the empty miles they had traversed in
moment and was swinging leisurely aimless drifting, they were still too far
broadside, all beams spraying hotly from any space-lane for some ship to
against the Venusian’s glimmering ship. stumble upon them and frighten Satan
Then began a long and painful siege. away.
With the decided advantage offered by Yet something had to be done. The
ultra-powerful coronium motors, the Vroolds generators were weakening un¬
Space Waif managed to eke out enough der the terrific strain imposed upon them,
superfluous energy, despite keeping all and in the various sealed sections of the
three of her beams probing incessantly squat vessel the air was growing unbeara¬
about her enemy, to constantly shift po¬ bly foul to Venusian lungs, even though
sition about the helplessly drifting Vroola. now the spare oxygen tanks were stepped
Threepa, on the other hand, was forced up desperately close to 1. A few hours
to shunt all available power into the more and—but he wouldn’t surrender!
maintenance of his protective screens, for Not the space-lord—not Threepa the
with a trio of lethal rays ever playing Scourge! Never, by Sirius, never!
over his vessel, once his defense weak¬ But he did surrender. His crew, being
ened—even for a fraction of a second— used to an atmosphere heavy with rich
he was doomed. Moreover, the hapless oxygen, at last could endure the close air
Venusian could not move his-ship at all of their quarters no longer, and decided
unless somehow he could contrive to get to take things in their own hands. If
more power out of his already complain¬ Threepa was too stubborn to surrender,
ing generators, and this demand Threepa they were not.
could not meet. Come on, men, unseal those doors!
Hunched in his cramped control room, You there, get ready to jump Threepa
the giant space-lord slowly wriggled his while we keep him occupied! Follow us.
great ears in unhappy doubt. What could
he do? If only he were able to penetrate S atan, waiting with grim patience in
his blanket of protection with radio he the control cabin of the Space Waif,
could flash an S. O. S. to the space po- could not see the air-starved, mutinous
W. T.—6
226 WEIRD TALES

crew of the Vroola as it stormed over the and was on the verge of withdrawing,
Venusian bandit chieftain in an ireful when his own cabin speaker unexpectedly
flood, and usurped command of the blared out.
doomed vessel. Satan only saw the out¬ "Prince Satan. Inspector Drexx, call¬
ward sign of the revolution—the showing ing Prince Satan,” boomed a voice whose
of the white flag of surrender from the accents were more than familiar to the
Vroold s conning-tower. When his weary man with the ebon eyes. "Satan, it will
eyes discerned the drooping bit of white be quite unnecessary to flash me your
cloth which proclaimed the end of the present location, for I already have it.
long and tiresome siege, the exile from To be perfectly truthful, Satan, the space
Earth uttered a sigh of relief. police located you and Threepa some time
Satan immediately sent word to the ago. Had you not been so absorbed in
engine room for the oxygen to be stepped your comical, conceited little duel, you
up from half-ration to .8—which news would doubtless have seen us. Look
was gratefully received even by those about you now. Surprized?”
sturdy dwellers of the thin-aired planet— There was a short pause. Satan shot a
and then calmly waited for the customary hurried look at his seeing-charts. To his
five minutes to elapse. horror he discovered that the Space Waif
When that short interval had passed, was in the very center of a thick globe
the Vroolds defense screens dwindled of scarlet and yellow police ships. He
quickly into nothingness, and Satan’s de¬ was trapped.
flected beams flashed carefully in again "Thanks for your aid in collecting
upon the vanquished space-lord’s floun¬ Threepa for us, Satan. You super-ego¬
dering craft, and hacked her into six neat tistical pirates are regular little mother’s
slices. The Venusian crew, according to helpers when you engage each other in
formula, were clustered in the Vroolds cock-fights to see who can lick whom. On
engine room in space-outfits, their uncon¬ our way in to pick up the charming ex-
scious chieftain bulky upon the floor in his Space-lord, we’ll be only too happy to
own giant helmet and suit. When all but stop off for you, too. Here we come!”
the engine room of the captured ship had The mocking voice of the young police
been demolished, Satan’s voice sounded inspector ceased, and Satan saw the rings
thinly in the ears of Threepa and his crew of patrol ships commence to draw closer
as he addressed them by means of the to him from all sides. Most of them had
tiny radio units inside their space helmets. red-flaring beams hungrily licking his
"I am sorry, but I must leave you now, way, although they were far from being
gentlemen, for my air supply is growing within weapon range as yet.
dangerously small,” the Earthman purred With the pale streak of scar tissue on
softly in the swampmen’s own dialect. his right cheek twitching his lips into
"However, if you promise to be patient nervous little half-smiles, Satan whispered
while I’m gone, I’ll send a flash to quietly but rapidly into his microphone
the space police and give them your lo¬ for his crew to throw on full oxygen and
cation. I’m sure they will be glad to pick stand by for rapid fuel feed.
you up. L’uul sholem, Threepa. Behave Narrowed black eyes scanned brilliant¬
yourself. And pay my compliments to ly painted hulls of onrushing cruisers for
Inspector Drexx when you meet him!” a second longer; then picking out the
Having concluded his speech to the rapidly swelling dot that was Inspector
chagrined Venusians, Satan plugged off Drexx’s own ship—the Falling Leaf—by
 SATAN IN EXILE 227

its distinctive shape, Satan’s quick fingers in a lunatic vor¬

darted over the control studs, sending his tex of spurting
trim craft lunging straight for his ancient pyrotechnics.
enemy.
Like a thunderbolt, the Space Waif
rushed toward that section of the great
S atan, except
for one mirth¬
constricting bubble of ships in which was less grin of ad¬
located the Falling Leaf. The lights of miration for
his cabin dimmed as a heavy surge of Drexx’s fool¬
power was shunted into a long tongue of hardy desire to
dull red death which leapt out belliger¬ make a one-man Threepa
ently in the direction of Inspector Drexx’s show of it, remained as cold and emotion¬
approaching cruiser. But Drexx, veteran less as the polar ice on Pluto. Only the
of a hundred battles, could not be snared flickering, glimmering sheen that was
so easily as all that, and the Falling Leaf the dancing web of his steel fingers, and
strained forward like a dart of lambent the ceaselessly roving space-black eyes,
light under his own dancing fingers. seemed to show life in that tensed body.
From Satan’s speaker—though he Inspector Drexx, on the other hand,
scarcely heard it—and from those of all chewed upon his lower lip as he sent
that throng of weaving ships, came a writhing, twisting fingers of flesh and
shouted order in the breathless voice of blood over his own control studs in a
Inspector Drexx. frenzy of haste. And, hemming in the
"Keep stations! This is just between two combatants, the great sphere of police
us two. Keep out of it! I'll take him ships hung without motion in the noth¬
alone!” ingness, a thousand pairs of dazzled eyes
It seemed that, despite chiding Satan following in utter silence the scarcely vis¬
a few moments earlier for having too ible, lightning-swift maneuvers of the
much conceit, the rash Inspector Drexx reckless duelists.
was not without a taint of egotism him¬ Then the defense screens of Inspector
self. Drexx suddenly failed him.
Into the very center of that vast globe Just after he had sent a streak of red
of yellow and scarlet wasps flashed the destruction licking vainly after the twist¬
official champion of the Code’s stern man¬ ing tail of the Space Waif, the valiant
dates, and the Lord of the Great Black¬ officer jabbed at his screen-control stud
ness, to try their prowess. Hunter and in anticipation of Satan’s next-moment re¬
hunted commenced a whirling dance of prisal. Satan had spun his own ship with
death, the tiny vessels spinning and spir¬ sickening abruptness and was whirling in
aling in the boundless emptiness like the upon his opponent, probing pencils of
molecules of an atom gone mad. Swerv¬ doom glowing wrathfully, when he saw
ing beams striped the abyss, stabbing ven¬ Drexx’s protection screens shimmer on,
omously at wheeling, slipping targets. then go almost instantly blank again.
Hazy defense screens shimmered on and The snake-scar on his cheek writhed
off like crazy space-heliographs flashing like a living thing as Satan’s thin lips
insane messages through the void. Two curled in a smile of dark triumph. Ten
corkscrewing flecks—one dull black, the seconds more and Inspector Drexx would
other gaudily banded—caught in a gusty join the long list of heroes who had given
mistral of infinity, dancing like dervishes their lives for the service.
228 WEIRD TALES

That short distance between the venge¬ sphere like a sword through water; emerg¬
ful space pirate and his target seemed to ing almost instantaneously from the shat¬
close with infinite slowness, and Satan tered wall of vessels, with a great scorch¬
had plenty of time to wonder vaguely, ing ribbon of shooting flame lingering in
even as his steel forefinger extended itself her wake. The astounding vandal of the
to depress the beam-control stud which void, now in the role of fugitive, set his
would cancel one more enemy, just why already white-hot propulsion tubes ashud-
his antagonist had so amateurishly left der under an additional charge of explod¬
himself open to attack. ing coronium, and swiftly vanished Home¬
"Men!” choked Drexx’s strained voice ward—leaving only the thin streamer of
from Satan’s loudspeaker and from all fast-melting incandescence to mark his
those of the paralyzed spectators as well. course.
"Men! Ray defense shot! We’re gone! With growing faintness, Prince Satan's
But don’t let Satan escape! My last or¬ musically soft chuckle sounded tauntingly
der—get Satan!” in the control cabin of the Falling Leaf.
Ray defense shot! So that was it. Sa¬ "My compliments to you, Inspector
tan’s brain whirled with dizzying swift¬ Drexx, until we meet again,” came Sa¬
ness. In a few seconds his savage beams tan’s smooth tones from across the widen¬
would rip the Vailing Leaf from where ing gulf of nothingness. "I couldn’t bring
she hung, helpless in the void, and scat¬ myself to bum a helpless and defenseless
ter her flame-dripping atoms over all in¬ victim, even though it was only you, In¬
finity; but compared to Satan’s lightning spector. I should be happy to encounter
thoughts time was standing still. It you some other time—when you’re in a
seemed as though a million conflicting ship that will not fall apart while you're
thoughts pulsed through his head as the in maneuvers! L’uul sholem, Inspector!”
long steel forefinger hovered uncertainly And as the Venusian au revoir faded
above the fatal stud. gently from his speaker, Inspector Nderso
Unprotected! Satan was going to bum Drexx, giving orders for what he well
a helpless crew. A very brave man, his knew would be a fruitless chase, slowly
enemy only in line of duty, was about to blinked his steel-gray eyes in bewilder¬
die—blasted into eternity, unable to pro¬ ment, not quite knowing whether to be
tect himself, as he watched his murderer relieved at his remarkable escape from
track him down. Defenseless! death or chagrined at foolishly losing the
A split second later the Space Waif most slippery desperado in the history of
had hurtled beneath and beyond her tar¬ the space police.
get. But in the very moment of passing,
Thus did Satan prove his supremacy in
her stabbing pencils of annihilation had
the vast realm over which he had been
gone dark. And the Failing Leaf still
proclaimed lord. . . .
hung unharmed, a red and yellow cap¬
sule, in the maw of the Great Blackness.
10. Satan Seeks the High Prince
Before the hypnotized watchers of this
unforeseen stroke of gallantry had thawed F or long had Satan planned retalia¬
into action, before the courageous com¬ tion against High Prince Fane, the
mander of the Falling Leaf could gasp man he held responsible for all his cruel
either a prayer of thanks or a word of misfortunes; for long had he fingered his
warning, Satan’s hurtling cruiser gashed livid scar, creeping snakily from its start
into the serried ranks of the mighty space- tinder the blade bangs, down across the
 SATAN IN EXILE 229

entire width of his grim face, thinking On that day

thoughts black with vengeance; for long Poog, brother to
had he sat with burning eyes fixed stonily the spongy Tina
upon his shining left arm as the metal fist and willing spy
slowly clenched and unclenched, brood¬ for the strange
ing upon his deformity; and for long had pale man he
he stood gazing into his garden pool at loved so dearly,
the reflection of his bizarre costume, all had flashed a
ebon blackness and blood crimson, plot¬ hurried call
ting his dark revenge. from Earth. The
Always had he stopped his ears against coded message,
the earnest pleadings of his sole terres¬ received and deciphered by Feloth, was
trial companion—the faithful Feloth. Al¬ sent instantly to the exile, resting on the
ways had he murmured softly, "Do not fresh greensward between his myriad
try to dissuade me, Feloth. It is useless. rows of rainbow blossoms.
For I shall make Fane suffer—some day. Waugh, snuffing delightedly at the
It is inevitable. Fane must pay for all—• warm air, heavy with the dreamy incense
this. But not yet.. . not yet.” of flame-orchids, scurried down the mossy
Satan’s method of making Earth’s paths to where his master sat in melan¬
Overlord account for his sins was to be choly revery.
anything but crude. Its delicacy, in fact, As the Earthman’s snapping eyes ab¬
was what made the pirate hesitate during sorbed the message, his mutilated face
all those long years before he struck; be¬ lost its forlorn smile of forgetfulness and
cause Satan’s intended revenge called not gradually assumed its customary taut
for mere sudden death, but for a long sternness. When he had finished read¬
life of torment. Slowly, through the ing, the throbbing blood behind his
years, Satan was accumulating jot after slashed cheek made the long, pale scar-
jot of evidence against the man he hated thread pulse angrily, and although he
just as he had once done upon the face was not aware of it, steel fingers crushed
of Earth—evidence which would under¬ the delicate blossom they had so lightly
mine the unsuspecting Fane’s lordly ca¬ held a moment before.
reer bit by bit. Satan’s plan of vengeance For Poog, working as a laborer in the
would not be complete until Fane was laboratories of Thorg Lua—one of the
an old and broken man, dragged with in¬ Venusian members of Earth’s court and
exorable slowness from the crags of great¬ one-time comrade of Prince Torgeny—
ness down through the mire of gradual had run across some ugly news. His
exposure and disgrace. master, Thorg
This was the terrible plan conceived by Lua, had a few
the loneliest brain in the universe. But days previously
it was a revenge that never materialized. announced the
For one day Satan, secure in his beau¬ discovery of cer¬
tiful and extensive underground gardens tain electro-mag¬
where grew the rarest of exotic blooms, netic waves of
garnered from every known soil in the extremely high
solar system, received news which caused frequency, above
him to abandon his subtle schemings for those even of
a more speedy satisfaction. the Gamma rays, Waugh
230 WEIRD TALES

which had a weird and infinitely danger¬ whispered to Poog—hints of a possible

ous effect upon the fragile tissues of liv¬ breach in diplomatic relations with Mars
ing brain cells. The scientist had, so in the near future. Was there any con¬
read the message, performed a successful nection between the two occurrences, did
demonstration before High Prince Fane the master think?
and the rest of the court only the day Satan knew there was. Crumpling the
before. This morning his apartments had message into a ball, he flung it from him
been found in great disorder and Thorg and, eyes blazing, strode off toward his
Lua could not be located. No complete humble palace, Waugh trotting puzzledly
records of his experiments were available behind.
which were not in an unreadable cipher.
Poog had good reason to believe that
Fane had abducted the missing scientist
F eloth raised his brows questioningly
as he heard his young confederate
and was trying to force from him his quietly enter the room and silently reach
secret before certain orthodox officials for the peg where hung his weapon belt.
were apprised of it. Now the Universal "What are your plans, my son?” asked
Anti-War Fund, as Torgeny well knew, the old man, sensing the corsair’s actions.
was founded by the three worlds for the "Feloth,” remarked Satan very softly,
mutual advancement of peace. From this as he buckled on the broad belt and re¬
fund, contributed equally by Mars, Venus moved his ray-guns for careful inspection,
and Earth, who also share in common its "the time has come when Fane is going
benefits, substantial sums of money are to account to me for his treacheries. I am
paid to inventors for the rights to any rather sorry. I should have liked to make
discoveries which might be adapted to him suffer as I had planned. That would
warfare. Since it is impossible to prevent have been much better. But if the infor¬
such martial discoveries from being made, mation I just received is reliable, and I’m
the purpose of this fund is to promote sure it is, Fane must die at once.”
peace by buying them up for common "Explain yourself more fully, High¬
distribution among the tri-world govern¬ ness.”
ments, discouraging by its generous price "Reading between the lines. Fane is
any negotiations between inventors and brewing an interplanetary war. He has
private corporations which might lead to been secretly agitating a conquest of Mars
one world’s securing an advantage over for a long time. That was what I was
another. Further, according to the Code, trying to prove even in the old days.
if Fane or any other person not con¬ Being Overlord of Earth is not enough
nected with the Anti-War Fund obtained for Fane. He’d sell his soul to have Mars
advance knowledge of Lua’s invention, under his thumb, too. I’m positive of
he would be guilty of an extremely se¬ that. Can you imagine, Feloth? An in¬
rious offense, no matter what the reason terplanetary war just to satisfy one man’s
behind the securing of such information. lust for power! But tell me something
Thus, since it was only logical that the about Thorg Lua’s discovery, Feloth. I
abductors of Lua had taken tremendous must be sure. Have you heard much
pains not to betray themselves, it was about it?”
but natural that Poog had no idea where "Why, yes,” returned the aged scien¬
the vanished man could be found. But at tist. "Thorg Lua’s work has been caus¬
the same time, there were also—so one of ing something of a furor in the scientific
his courtier friends had that morning world of late. From what I have gath-
 SATAN IN EXILE 231

ered from the televisor, it seems that for smash so-called

several years Thorg Lua has been trying civilized Mars—
to return life to uninjured bodies. I don’t believe
"In several instances he has succeeded the nomad
in starting the heart to beat and the blood plainsmen mat¬
to flow again in a corpse, thus bringing ter one way or
some semblance of life back into newly another — with
dead bodies. But always he was faced such a weapon?
with one apparently insurmountable diffi¬ You say death
culty. His resurrected men were no more is instantaneous Feloth
than physically alive—their minds seemed —why, the bat¬
for ever lost in eternity.” tles would be over almost before they
"Yes, I know,” put in Satan, gazing began, and the redmen would have not
critically down the barrel of a shiny even a single survivor to list as wounded!
weapon, "but that isn’t the reason why "If Fane gets Thorg Lua’s secret be¬
Fane kidnapped this scientist.” fore I find him,” a steel fist pounded the
"No, but it leads directly to that rea¬ table for emphasis, "the Overlord must
son. Thorg Lua found that his trouble never escape alive. For the sake of mil¬
with dead men’s brains was due to the lions of innocent humans and the safety
fact that the shock of death—which must of two worlds, Fane must die!”
be a fearful one when you consider what The scarlet-dad corsair’s dark eyes
the shock of fright alone can do—that smoldered like white-hot propulsion tubes
the shock of death literally burned out in the heart of ebon space, as he reached
the tender brain tissues, somewhat after for his huge black doak hanging by the
the manner of a jolt from an extremely doorway.
high voltage wire. "And who,” he whispered in dulcet
"Now, when a storm of protest arose tones which rivaled the soft crooning of a
over Lua’s cadaverous jousts with immor¬ cultured Venusian, "who would make a
tality, he altered his line of experiment more appropriate executioner than my¬
and tried to solve the mystery of what self?
may be termed as ’death-shock.’ He was "I’m shoving off, Feloth, at once. L’uul
more successful here than in his former sbolem!”
scientific attempts. "But, Torgeny-” began the blind
"In short,” summed up the white- wizard pleadingly.
haired speaker, acutely aware of his lis¬ The slam of a heavy door was his only
tener’s impatient shuffling of feet, "Thorg answer. . . .
Lua has discovered how to generate elec¬
tromagnetic impulses of an astonishing-
, ly high frequency, which instantly sear all
T aking care to dodge all intervening
space-patrol ships, the Space Waif
living brain tissue beyond repair. In still had pursued her unobtrusive way toward
other words, Thorg Lua can, by his dis¬ the green planet. Now, avoiding the
covery, cause artificial death-shock—he well-charted stratospheric lanes of the
has produced the first actual 'death ray’ world-girdling rocket transports, she was
ever to be invented!” gliding eagerly down through the pro¬
Satan grunted in grim understanding. tective cloud blanket toward the dim,
"I was correct, Feloth. You see how sim¬ treasured globe below, Satan was com¬
ple a matter it would be for Fane to ing home.
232 WEIRD TALES

Staring stedfastly into his seeing-charts, pin-points of light—there popped sud¬

Satan watched the great relief map that denly into Satan's head the most logical
was United China slide by below him. A of all hiding-places. The monster tidal
moment more and he was over the broad tower of Lavorkis!
expanse of restless dull green that was Lavorkis, humble vassal to the High
the mighty Pacific, nosing deftly toward Prince, would no doubt be glad to offer
his goal on the eastern coast of the North the Overlord the privacy and secrecy of
American continent, without losing any his windowless cylindrical laboratory
more speed than was absolutely necessary. which stood almost completely submerged
A minute later the cosmic buccaneer in the dark swells of the broad Atlantic,
was soaring high over a tiny cluster of just off the coast. The lonely, spray-
white-foamed flecks, all that remained of drenched tower of Lavorkis had witnessed
a once powerful nation named Japan. In more than one buried crime in the past,
the last great Sino-Japanese encounter, and on this night it was undoubtedly the
the newly unified forces of the Great scene of another. Of course!
Dragon had rid themselves once and for In a smooth gull-like swoop, Waugh
all of their persistent annoyers by generat¬ sent the Space Waif—all lights now
ing a great series of artificial earthquakes turned off to give invisibility—gliding
which, running in gigantic uncheckable toward the black pill-box top of the struc¬
waves eastward from the coast of China, ture which was her destination. After
had jolted and shaken the teeming isles he had maneuvered into position directly
of the Nipponese until they had collapsed above the round roof of the isolated tidal
upon themselves in utter ruin. tower, Waugh let the Space Waif sink
But Satan was not interested in view¬ gently downward until her slender prow
ing the remnants of an ancient war. What nudged alongside its entrance-port, close
he desired to see was the bright neon to the ocean’s surface. So near to the
glow of the huge world capital, Nyork, surging waters was the sleek space-eagle
spreading beneath his ship; and so he that each of her occasional balancing
urged the Space Waif onward until her blasts sent a cloudy wreath of steam sky¬
outer hull was glowing from the terrific ward.
friction. . . . Ordering his small crew to keep the
Somewhere in vast and magnificent ship in readiness for an instant take-off,
Nyork the scientist Thorg Lua was held Satan loosened his ray-guns in their hol¬
captive, tortured perhaps, by the infamous sters, drew his all-enveloping cape about
High Prince Fane. But where? him, and watched the entrance-port in the
Inside his rapidly cooling cabin aboard nose of the ship silently unscrew and
the Space Waif, now slowly settling land¬ swing outward. A moment later he stood
ward through the night sky toward the on the dark rooftop, drawing the sweet,
light-deluged levels of the metropolis cool air of Earth into his grateful lungs.
which was his goal, Satan pondered this He knew that any possible occupants
very question. Finally the space pirate of the submerged tower could not have
gave orders for Waugh to assume control heard the gentle grating of the Space
and circle the outskirts of the capital, Waif’s prow as she scraped to a stand¬
while he thought about the problem. still beside the building, and so his pres¬
Then, as the purring cruiser swerved ence was unknown. A quick survey of
in a wide arc over Nyork’s coastline— the ocean about him apprised the maraud¬
the only place not flooded with brilliant er of the fact that not a single boat of any
 SATAN IN EXILE 233

kind was within sight. Apparently the give a fortune to the one who could lo¬
men inside the tower, if there were any, cate anything that even looked like a
had sent away whatever vehicle had tide-engine in this cylinder in the sea.
brought them there. But to work.
The angular handle of the portal
A scarcely audible drone suddenly
jerked his face upward to scan the
turned noiselessly within Satan’s cautious
grasp, but when he attempted to push
skies. He watched a lone helicopter with open the door of metal, it would not
muted motors pass slowly overhead. But budge. When a knob turns and yet will
he did not grow alarmed; muted motors not open the door to which it is attached,
were common enough on private ships that door must be bolted. So reasoned
now, and this one did not circle back to the pirate, with simple logic. And when
investigate. a door is bolted, it indicates the presence
Yet the thought struck him that the of someone on the other side to bolt it.
Space Waif, even though she was the His guess had been right then: something
same size and shape as every standard was going on inside this lonely laboratory
cruiser of any of the planets and not of a —and that something required locked
distinctive design like the Vroola or the doors!
Falling Leaf, must be rather conspicuous Satan placed an ear against a cold panel
as she hovered about a lonely stretch of but could hear nothing but the ceaseless
ocean at this hour of the night. Accord¬ mutter of the surf. At the expense of
ingly, the space brigand stole silently back almost an entire charge from one of his
to his ship and gave a few succinct orders. guns—for the steel rods were many and
Immediately afterward the lock of the very fat—the exile efficiently burned
Space Waif clanked open and out slid her through the restraining bolts and quickly
tiny two-man life-shell manned by the swung the heavy door inward.
faithful Waugh. This done, the dark Tss!
eagle of the void abruptly soared space¬ Satan instinctively ducked at the famil¬
ward, and by the time her initial fiery iar, ominous sound. His own fresh ray-
blast had melted into the misty darkness, gun whipped out and stabbed into dark¬
she was completely out of sight. In the ness toward the little red flare which had
swirls of gathering fog, Waugh, priming nearly drilled him. But if his unknown
the little motors of the life-shell for in¬ assailant had erred in his aim, Satan’s
stant flight, watched the phantom figure steel arm had not. There was a short,
of his master vanish from his seeing- painful grunt, followed by the soft thud
charts as he returned once more to the of a falling body, and a second later the
tower entrance. pirate’s nostrils were twitching under the
It took Satan but a moment to cross disagreeable odor of burnt flesh.
the steely expanse of the tower’s flat roof Satan stepped into the black and eased
to that door which, so far as he knew, the door soundlessly shut behind him.
was the sole means of entrance to the Overlord Fane and Thorg Lua might not
place. As his hand reached out to try be present within the tower of Lavorkis,
the triangular door-knob, the exile’s eyes but whatever was going on here must be
caught a glimpse of the big sign painted dangerous business if hidden sentinels
above the lintel. "Structure for the Utiliza¬ had orders to burn on sight.
tion of Tidal Power—Keep Out!” it read. But in what part of the submerged
Torgeny snorted. Tidal power! He’d structure were its mysterious occupants?
234 WEIRD TALES

As far as the invader could tell, the en¬ Two floors below, the finger of de¬
tire building was in total darkness. How struction flickered over a black head bob¬
could anyone- bing from side to side in hurried descent.
But what was that? Footsteps! Feet There came a muffled gasp, ending in
scraping on rungs of a metal ladder. Get¬ choked pain. The dull red beam blinked
ting fainter—going down, then. So there out.
had originally been two guards on duty, Satan, still leaning far over the safety-
and while one had lain in wait for him, rail, listened intently. From half a dozen
the other had gone somewhere below to floors down came a queer, faint sound.
warn Lavorkis—or Fane—that some¬ Still the exile held his breath and waited
body was forcing an entrance. expectantly. At last he straightened up
At that second Satan’s groping hand with a fatalistic sigh. From some place
reached a guard rail, and in the next he many levels beneath had come a thud.
had hold of the top of a metal ladder. It Satan smiled wryly. Evidently his visit
was still vibrating very slightly—that was destined to remain unannounced by
second sentinel was still descending. any sentinel.
'Tve got to get that fellow before he He wondered once more where Lavor¬
spreads an alarm,” Satan whispered to kis—or Fane—was indulging in his vil¬
himself, straining his eyes in a vain at¬ lainies; for even yet he had seen no faint¬
tempt to pierce the gloom beneath. He est glimmer of light from any of the nu¬
dimly recalled the presence of an an¬ merous floors below him. Where could
tiquated elevator in the tower and won¬ that climbing fellow have been descend¬
dered why the man on the ladder had ing to?
not taken it. But of course he was trying After a moment’s thought the space
to be as noiseless as possible, and eleva¬ brigand decided that there must be a
tors creak, don’t they? That did not mat¬ hidden chamber of some sort secreted in
ter, anyway. What did matter was to the tower, and that the most logical place
bum that fellow before he could raise an for such a room would be below the or¬
alarm. dinary bottom of the dark, silent struc¬
Yet how? Unless his memory played ture. He made up his mind to investi¬
him false—he had been in the place only gate, and turned to examine his unknown
once before, a long time ago—this shaft assailant before searching for the elevator.
led straight down to the bottom floor, and The body on the floor, under Satan’s
the man on the ladder, besides having a flashlight, proved to be that of a nonde¬
head start, could climb down as fast as script Earthman, bearded, dirty and rag¬
Satan could. Straight down, though. That ged. The space pirate sized him up as
was it! Straight down! some nameless denizen of the lower lev¬
els, simply hired for this one night’s
S atan drew his gun and leaned far duty. Well, Satan mused ironically, the
fellow had certainly earned his pay, even
over the guard rail. Carefully judg¬
ing his distance from the sides of the if he wasn’t going to be able to collect it.
well as best he could in the blackness, he But Satan’s mind swung swiftly back
pointed the slender barrel of the pistol to the gravity of his pressing errand—he
down the ladder and squeezed the trig¬ could not long forget the fact that his was
ger. He felt the jolt of the gun’s recoil, the madly desperate attempt of a solitary
and saw the long pencil of angry red hiss individual to save two unsuspecting
downward into emptiness. worlds from holocaust. An instant more
 SATAN IN EXILE 235

and he was dropping bottomward in an neath. The unseen steel hissed resentfully
automatic lift, past floors of scientific and cast up tiny sparks as the dull red
wonders unseen in the dark. At no time beam cut through it, but Satan knew that
during the invader’s descent was there the sound went unheard by those in the
any sound except that made by the creak¬ chamber below. Noise does not travel
ing of the elevator itself. When the cage easily into a closed place when it has been
finally came to rest, he stumbled uncer¬ made airtight.
tainly into Stygian gloom like a black- After about half of the sealed cover had
robed phantom. been burned through, Satan was forced to
Satan wanted light. He fumbled exchange guns again. Mumbling savagely
about the wall until his fingers found a to himself, he shifted position slightly
switch and turned it on. Then he saw and pressed the release catch on his sec¬
that he was on the bottom floor of the ond pistol. One gun already he had used
strangely silent tower and it, like all the up, and now this one in his hand was be¬
rest, seemed deserted. Under the clear ginning to sputter resentfully; it was the
light of the neons the exile observed that one he had nearly completely discharged
this part of the structure was more or on the rooftop.
less of a store-room, with dusty boxes Now there was but a small arc of
and tanks cluttering up most of its space, locked metal yet to burn, and Satan al¬
except for one spot directly beneath the most breathed a sigh of relief. Almost—
end of the ladder shaft. Within this for in that second his remaining ray-gun
spot lay a huddle of lifeless clothing. coughed and went dark. He grunted sav¬
Satan shuddered slightly. agely at the hot weapon in his hand, and
But where was the entranceway of that thrust it back into its holster. Well,
secret chamber in which the others must nothing for it but to lose precious minutes
be hidden? The space-black eyes bright¬ and go back to his waiting life-shell for
ened as they discovered footprints and a fresh pistols.
rectangular patch in the floor which was Bade to the lift he went and shot roof-
peculiarly free of the thick dust that over¬ ward again. He had almost reached the
spread all else. Evidently someone had top level when to his sensitive ears came
shoved one of the heavy boxes away from the unmistakable thrum of hot rocket-
that spot not very long ago. The sharp exhausts. What in space was up? Surely
eyes investigated further. Ah, there it Waugh wasn’t pushing off, leaving him
was, a barely discernible dark circle with¬ marooned in the midst of his enemies?
in the clean patch on the floor. Or was it-
Satan would have to step over that
bundle of rags, though, if he were to
open the disk-like trap-door. But this
T he elevator ground to a stop, and
Satan was out of it in a split-second
was no time to be squeamish, with the and sprinting toward the dim square that
fate of two worlds hanging in the bal¬ was the doorway. He thrust himself out
ance; so the exile quickly strode over the into the moist, salty night air and stopped
thing on the floor and bent down by the dead.
disk, with no more hesitation. It was ob¬ There was a lean ether-craft hovering
viously not only locked, but sealed tight¬ near the roof-edge just behind his own
ly. Satan jammed his fresh ray-gun into tiny two-man shell. And it bore the dis¬
a narrow crevice running around the trap tinctive shape of the Falling Leaf!
and began slowly to melt the metal be¬ Satan had not even begun to think of
236 WEIRD TALES

what he ought to do, when he felt the “Spending a holiday with Tirene—that’s
sharp jab of a ray-gun in the small of his my wife—just a couple of miles west of
back, and a crisp voice remarked de¬ here on Ground Level. One of the neigh¬
lightedly: bors told me that during the past .week
“By the Seven Suns! Of all people— Lavorkis seemed to be doing strange
Prince Satan, himself! Don’t move a things in this tower, and that tonight as
whisker or I’ll bum you!” he was coming home in his helicopter
Satan did not have to twist his head he had noticed a big ship floating at the
around to recognize the speaker as In¬ entrance port.
spector Nderso Drexx of the universal "Well, since mysterious boats have no
space-police. “How did you find out I business snooping about tidal towers at
was going to be here tonight?” asked the this hour of the night, I decided to take
amazed brigand, as calmly as if he had a little peek, supposing Lavorkis was up
been expecting this meeting all along. to more of his usual dirty work. I got
"I didn’t!” Drexx’s tones were ex¬ here on the roof just as I heard you come
cited, jubilant. “The Moon Patrol re¬ up in the lift. So I hid here to see what
ported a ship without lights, and some¬ went on. But I never dreamed of bag¬
what similar to the Space Waif, slipping ging you!”
down through the air blanket somewhere Steel-gray eyes, aglow with justifiable
over Asia—the space-police aren’t totally elation, glanced triumphantly into fath¬
blind, you know. As you are evidently omless space-black ones. For a brief mo¬
not aware, a billion-dollar shipment of ment the two men stood in silence,
Government script is being convoyed to¬ Drexx’s white teeth flashing in an even
night from New Peking, and the boys smile; Satan, with a ray-gun digging into
thought you must be after it. Half the his body, absolutely expressionless except
entire police fleet is awaiting your ar¬ for a barely discernible twitching of his
rival over New Peking at this very mo¬ disfigured cheek.
ment; but don’t you fret your pretty little "All right, Your Highness,” said In¬
head about it, because I’ll flash them as spector Drexx cheerily after an interval,
soon as we get aboard the Falling Leaf.” reaching out deftly with his free hand to
“You should know by this time that unfasten Satan’s weapon belt and discard
mere money has no interest for me. Why it; “let’s be moving. It’s chilly standing
should I bother with it? What I need, I here in the fog. Step right into the Fall¬
simply take. But how did you find out ing Leaf, and I’ll make it warm enough
I was here?” Satan's mild voice continued to suit you. I’m right behind you, so
conversationally, while a dozen plans of watch your step and don’t trip.”
escape were being submitted, examined, Satan remained stoically where he was.
and rejected by his brain. The officer repeated his request, empha¬
"Purely accidental,” the man in the yel¬ sizing it this time with a sharp prod of
low and scarlet uniform explained chatti¬ his alert gun. "Go on, Satan. I’ve got
ly. He had good reason to feel expansive you this time where you can’t escape.
with the most wanted man in the uni¬ You’re through for good, Prince.”
verse held at bay at the point of his ray- "Drexx,” the stem, scarred man ex¬
gun. Prince Satan captured single-handed ploded suddenly, "listen to me. You’ve
without a struggle by little Nderso! got me, all right. But I won’t move a
"I’m supposed to be on leave this step until you send someone down inside
spell,” the uniformed officer explained. there to find out what’s taking place.”
 SATAN IN EXILE 237

’'Who’s in there?” in a thin smile. The blond officer gulped

In a few words Satan explained his pur¬ and tried to move his numbed fingers.
pose in raiding the tower of Lavorkis. “You see, Inspector,” murmured the space
When he had finished, Drexx laughingly pirate, "the hand is still much quicker
shook his head. than the eye. Especially when that hand
"Satan,” the big man snorted, "that’s is animated steel.”
pretty thin stuff. High Prince Fane and "Why, you-” The fearless officer,
Lavorkis cooking up a plot against the recovering from his momentary stupefac¬
peace and security of the universe! No, tion and ignoring the gun at his ribs,
you’ll have to think faster than that, Your flung himself at the man with the scar.
Highness. Come on, move!” Once again, however, the machine proved
Satan’s ebon eyes blazed through the itself superior to the human. In the short
night mist. "You win, Inspector,” he time it takes a fist to swing through three
said simply. "But you’re not taking me short feet of arc, the steel fingers of the
—alive!” man called Satan loosed their grip on the
The blond officer tightened his grip on ray-gun, jerked up and back, then rapped
his leveled ray-gun. His own eyes glinted soundly against the policeman’s jaw.
as they met Satan’s evenly, and he grated, Drexx’s short-arm jab was still on its
"Don’t try to pull anything, Prince. I’ve way toward the mark it never hit, when
got you and I’m going to keep you. For he was sent crashing to the tower roof by
the last time—get aboard!” that heavy slap from Satan’s mailed palm.

T he captive pirate shook his head.

"I’m not trying to escape, Drexx,”
The cosmic corsair looked down upon his
fallen enemy and shook his head regret¬
fully. He liked this fearless foe of his,
he persisted quietly but resolutely. "It’s and it was with a sense of genuine re¬
just that I—that I couldn’t bear to stand morse that he had repaid Drexx’s rash
public trial. I-” The steel hand ges¬ courage with a knockout.
tured hopelessly. Had they met in the old days they
A queer light dawned in Inspector would have been fast friends, but now
Drexx’s eyes. "You mean—that you don’t they were forced to be mortal enemies.
want people to find out who you really It was lamentable, but ironic Fate must
are? I always thought there was some¬ ever exact its toll.
thing behind your air of good breed-” A hasty glance over his shoulder
But at that second Satan struck. With showed Satan that the crew of the Fall¬
a quickness almost impossible to measure, ing Leaf was dutifully below in the ship’s
a strong steel arm whipped out, twisted engine room,
the flesh-and-blood wrist that held the and totally ob¬
menacing ray-gun. Drexx, his sluggish livious of what
human fibers too slow to react swiftly had occurred.
enough, was powerless. By the time the That was only
inspector had detected the momentary natural, since
sheen of silver which was the darting they probably
metal arm of his opponent, he found him¬ did not even
self possessed of a sprained right wrist, know why their
and a rod of death was jabbing into his commander had
vitals. stopped off at
Satan’s saturnine countenance relaxed the lonely tower. inspector Drexx
238 WEIRD TALES

With feverish haste, mentally bemoan¬ Thorg Lua, a Venusian genius from
ing the precious minutes that were slip¬ the domed-in highland city of Seethor
ping by, Satan bound and gagged the but working in the interests of Earth, had
senseless police inspector with strips from perfected a device emitting the strange
the latter’s own short-cape after relieving high-frequency wave which produced ar¬
the still form of its broad yellow gun- tificial death-shock. Because of this dis¬
belt and the customary super-sound radio¬ covery, which he had been quite ready to
whistle. It took but another moment to turn over to the proper authorities of the
dump the trussed blond officer inside the green world, he now found himself
tower, safely out of sight of any chance strapped helplessly to a long table in a
observer from the Falling Leaf; and then dank and slimy water-lock, with two
the exile, armed with one of Drexx’s madmen trying to pry his precious secret
fresh guns, was descending into the from unwilling lips. On a chair beside
depths of the submerged laboratory once him lay a copy of his bulky experiment
more, buckling on his own useless weap¬ records, which—praise Sirius!—were in
on-belt as he went. an absolutely undecipherable code of his
own devising.
T rickling perspiration glued the long
black bangs tightly against his fore¬
Praise Sirius, for Thorg Lua was well
aware of the plans of his ambitious cap-
head as Satan, panting from his exertions, tors. Hadn’t the Overlord tried to bribe
knelt down again before the heavy trap¬ him by the offer of a sum that would have
door which cut him off from his prey. half emptied the treasuries of America?
When the last inch of sealing metal had Madmen! Lua had long considered La-
been severed by the thin beam of concen¬ vorkis unbalanced—but Fane! His Excel¬
trated heat, Satan smiled in somber satis¬ lency High Prince Fane, Overlord of
faction, and easily swung back the stout Earth, himself desirous of plunging his
circular door with his metal hand. own planet into the hideous maelstrom
About a yard underneath, Satan found of a cosmic war! It was preposterous—
another, smaller door, just as he had an¬ such a thing could not be!
ticipated. But this second portal, he no¬ But unfortunately for Thorg Lua, such
ticed with satisfaction as he waved the a thing was. And here he lay, bound
glowing ray-gun to and fro to cool its tightly to a table, with two power-mad
dangerously overheated barrel, could only lunatics attempting to wrest from him
be locked from his side, and its bolts his secret. Well, let them torture him.
were now drawn from their sockets. Let them shrivel his flesh—rot it with
Somebody was certainly down in the room chika-Qmd—before his very eyes. Let
below. He hoped with all his heart that them sear his soul with drops of that
it was Fane. loathsome acid, wither his bared chest
Cautiously Satan slipped his head and with a torment immeasurable. Let them
shoulders past a yard-thick layer of sound- do all this—he wouldn’t tell. He wouldn’t
insulating material, and pressed an ear betray two innocent worlds. He was from
to the hard metal surface of the trap-door. Venus, and Venusians knew how to en¬
He thought he heard a scream, faint and dure pain without flinching. Venusians
muffled, but freighted with agony. Si¬ did not cry out or whimper.
lently, he drew back the steel door a bare "So you still refuse to be reasonable?”
inch and peeped into the brilliantly the glaring Fane panted for the twentieth
lighted room beneath. . , . time, while Lavorkis leered from behind
 SATAN IN EXILE 239

him. "Very well a sound, but it carried a note of deter¬

—Lavorkis, three mination.
drops for the "Ah, too bad, Lavorkis,” lamented
next dose.” Fane. "Give him the four drops.”
In one gnarled
hand the evil L avorkis leaned forward, the pipette
Lavorkis held a J glittering in his trembling fingers.
half-filled beak¬ The captive watched it with fear-distend¬
er. Into this he ed eyes; and just as the black horror in
now thrust a his pupils widened to engulf the green-
slender pipette gold of the irises, so did black horror
and filled it with the smoking, deadly pulse through his heart. In spite of
venom which is brewed in the veins of himself he uttered a wail of almost in¬
the Venusian chika-^Aant. With pre¬ sane despair. Even a Venusian has his
meditated slowness he bent over the vajn- limits of endurance, and Thorg Lua was
ly wriggling form on the table. only human.
'Will you tell? Will you tell?” La¬ "Gp on and scream, you stubborn
vorkis whined, his crooked lips twisting swamp-dog,” leered the hawk-nosed La¬
in a snarl. vorkis. "Why do you think we brought
"Never!” you to this water-lock, when you refused
Lavorkis raised a gaunt hand and care¬ to be sensible? The loudest sound you
fully squeezed the little bulb he clutched. can make is not a whisper outside this
Three glistening beads of concentrated chamber. The silence of the tomb fills
torture dripped successively from the end the empty tower above us, and the sea
of the pipette. Three tiny smudges of around us.” Then, savagely, "Nothing
oily nastiness formed one by one on the can save you, so why don’t you tell us
blistered flesh of the abducted man’s hairy what we want to know?”
breast. Three little drops of chika— Thorg Lua’s head writhed a piteous
three little black spots of rotting ghastli¬ negative, while his long sensitive ears
ness, burning on Lua’s cruelly peppered drooped listlessly. He made no audible
chest. reply, for he could not speak through his
Thorg Lua shut his eyes tightly, and fit of coughing. He sobbed feebly and
writhed in anguish as molten fire raced spat blood.
through every vein, ate into his very Lavorkis caused another drop of glis¬
heart. Martyr-like, the furry man bit his tening, concentrated evil to fall upon the
lips to hold back a scream of pain. A raw and smoking flesh of his victim.
thread of scarlet trickled from beneath Thorg Lua was
his grinding teeth. broken. "Stop!
"Will you tell?” prompted Fane, as Stop!” he
soon as the writhing body had quieted screamed hoarse¬
down. "We’ve wasted too much time al¬ ly. "I’ll tell!
ready. We’ll have to make the next dose I’ll tell! Only
four drops if you won’t talk. Then you stop torturing
will faint, and we’ll have to revive you me—and I’ll tell
before administering another dose. Speak, you anything!
will you, you poor fool?” Only let me
"Never.” It was a mere whimper of done!’’ Thorg Lua
240 WEIRD TALES

Lavorkis set down his jar of bubbling for mercy, Lavorkis opened a pouch in
acid, and twisted his lanky hands in antic¬ his belt and extracted a razor-edge scalpel
ipation. Fane bent forward eagerly. with eager talons. The Venusian, at sight
"All right, tell us. We’ll set you free, of the shiny surgical knife approaching
if you tell us how to produce artificial his bared and unprotected throat, gave
death-shock,” promised Lavorkis, licking vent to his overwhelming fear in one last
his dry lips with nervous greed. shriek which quickly dwindled to a mere
husky rattle. In Thorg Lua’s torture-
Gaspingly, with ever-increasing effort,
twisted body, the spark of life was fast
the bound prisoner babbled his precious
dimming.
secret while his two listeners hungrily ab¬
sorbed each word. When Thorg Lua had "What’s wrong?” scowled the sinister
finished his wheezing explanation. Fane high prince, without raising his eyes from
looked questioningly at Lavorkis. The the writing over which he labored. "Didn’t
latter nodded assent. you hear me? I said to kill him and put
an end to that ghastly racket.”
"It sounds quite logical, Excellency.”
Lavorkis stepped close to the wheezing
"Yes—yes. It’s truth. . . . All in my
furry man and raised his keen-edged
books. . . . You can check all—all I
blade t0 strike. His twisted lips drooled
have said. I’ll give you the key, only—
saliva, and a mad frenzy was in his eyes.
only let—me up. ...”
Dreams of cosmic power so soon to be
"Wait!” interposed Fane, as Lavorkis
realized had unhinged his already un¬
reached for the strap buckles to release
stable mind.
their victim. "Get the key to that cipher
first, and then we know we’re safe. We The thirsty blade was beginning its
slow descent when the trembling frame
can’t afford to have any slip-up.”
of Lavorkis was suddenly transfixed as if
Feebly, Thorg Lua choked out the an¬
by a lance of interstellar ice. For a mild
swer to his garbled experiment records.
voice, whose gentle tones nevertheless
Fane hastily snatched a thick book from
held a hint of grim death, was speaking
its place on the chair, and waveringly de¬
from the ceiling.
coded a sentence or two of the finely
"I shouldn’t do that if I were you.”
penned pages. He nodded his dark head
in silent satisfaction, and the fuel of the "In the name of Dzchan, what’s that?" __
Overlord’s new-found power kindled the The startled pair of murderous conspir¬
gleam of lust in his eyes till it was a ators whirled to glance fearfully toward
consuming flame. the trap-door above them, whence the in¬
"Now, you—will let me go?” moaned credible voice had emanated. Stupefied,
the injured Venusian man of science, his they stared up into a dark countenance,
breath whistling painfully in his nostrils. split diagonally by a long, crooked and
"Shall I release him now. Excellency?” hideously livid scar that twitched slightly,
"No, of course not, you idiot,” grunted as thin lips parted in a warped smile.
Fane impatiently, busy with Lua’s bulky They stared up into a pair of space-black
records. "We’ve got to get rid of him— eyes whose unfathomable depths smol¬
he’d betray us the moment he got outside. dered with the hot fires of hate. And
Kill the fool.” they looked up into the black, ugly muz¬
Thorg Lua screamed in shrill terror at zle of a hot-barreled ray-gun.
this heartless treachery on the part of his Don't miss the thrilling chapters that bring this epic
captors. But heedless of weeping cries of science-fiction to a close in next month’s Weird Tales.
Reserve your copy at your news dealer's now.
W. T—6
JheGJ
c/reader of the Dust
By CLARK ASHTON SMITH

John Sebastian returned to his house, only to experience

a ghastly horror

.. . The olden wizards knew him, and named of the sheets at their edges, were no
him Quachil Uttaus. Seldom is he revealed: for
he dwelleth beyond the outermost cirde, in the doubt due to a latent imperfection of the
dark limbo of unsphered time and space. Dread¬ paper; and the queer fading of his en¬
ful is the word that calleth him, though the word
be unspoken save in thought: For Quachil Uttaus tries, which, almost overnight, had be¬
is the ultimate corruption; and the instant of his come faint as age-old writing, was clearly
coming is like the passage of many ages; and
neither flesh nor stone may abide his treading, but the result of cheap, faulty chemicals in
all things crumble beneath it atom from atom. the ink. The aspect of sheer, brittle,
And for this, some have called him The Treader
of the Dust. worm-hollowed antiquity which had
—The Testaments of Carnamagos. manifested itself in certain articles of

I T WAS after interminable debate and

argument with himself, after many
furniture, certain portions of the man¬
sion, was no more than the sudden re¬
vealing of a covert disintegration that
attempts to exorcise the dim, bodi¬ had gone on unnoticed by him in his
less legion of his fears, that John Sebas¬ sedulous application to dark but absorb¬
tian returned to the house he had left so ing researches. And it was this same ap¬
hurriedly. He had been absent only for plication, with its unbroken years of toil
three days: but even this was an interrup¬ and confinement, which had brought
tion without precedent in the life of re¬ about his premature aging; so that, look¬
clusion and study to which he had given ing into the mirror on the mom of his
himself completely following his inherit¬ flight, he had been startled and shocked
ance of the old mansion together with a as if by the apparition of a withered
generous income. At no time would he mummy. As to the man-servant, Timmers
have defined fully the reason of his —well, Timmers had been old ever since
flight: nevertheless, flight had seemed he could remember. It was only the ex¬
imperative. There was some horrible ur¬ aggeration of sick nerves that had lately
gency that had driven him forth; but found in Timmers a decrepitude so ex¬
now, since he had determined to go back, treme that it might fall, without the in¬
the urgency was resolved into a matter of termediacy of death, at any moment, into
nerves overwrought by too close and pro¬ the corruption of the grave.
longed application to his books. He had Indeed, he could explain all that had
fancied certain things: but the fancies troubled him without reference to the
were patently absurd and baseless. wild, remote lore, the forgotten demon¬
Even if the phenomena that had per¬ ologies and systems of magic into which
turbed him were not all imaginary, there he had delved. Those passages in The
must be some natural solution that had Testaments of Carnamagos, over which
not occurred to his overheated mind at he had pondered with weird dismay,
the time. The sudden yellowing of a were relevant only to the horrors evoked
newly purchased notebook, the crumbling by mad sorcerers in bygone eons. . . .
W. T.—7
242 WEIRD TALES

Sebastian, firm in such convictions, seemed to detect a shadowy flickering, as

came back at sunset to his house. He did if the circuit were at fault. However, it
not tremble or falter as he crossed the reassured him to see that the house, to all
pine-darkened grounds and ran quickly appearance, was very much as he had left
up the front steps. He fancied, but could it. Perhaps, unconsciously, he had feared
not be sure, that there were fresh signs to find the oaken panels crumbling away
of dilapidation in the steps; and the in riddled rottenness, the carpet falling
house itself, as he approached it, had into moth-eaten tatters; had apprehended
seemed to lean a little aslant, as if from the breaking through of rotted boards be¬
some ruinous settling of the foundations: neath his tread.
but this, he told himself, was an illusion Where, he wondered now, was Tim¬
wrought by the gathering twilight. mers? The aged factotum, in spite of his
No lamps had been lit, but Sebastian growing senility, had always been quick
was not unduly surprized by this, for he to appear; and even if he had not heard
knew that Timmers, left to his own de¬ his master enter, the switching on of the
vices, was prone to dodder about in the lights would have signalized Sebastian’s
gloom like a senescent owl, long after the return to him. But, though Sebastian
proper time of lamp-lighting. Sebastian, listened with painful intentness, there
on the other hand, had always been was no creaking of the familiar tottery
averse to darkness or even deep shadow; footsteps. Silence hung everywhere like
and of late the aversion had increased a funereal, unstirred arras.
upon him. Invariably he turned on all No doubt, Sebastian thought, there
the bulbs in the house as soon as the day¬ was some commonplace explanation.
light began to fail. Now, muttering his Timmers had gone to the near-by village,
irritation at Timmers’ remissness, he perhaps to restock the larder, or in hope
pushed open the door and reached hur¬ of receiving a letter from his master; and
riedly for the hall switch. Sebastian had missed him on the way
Because, perhaps, of a nervous agita¬ home from the station. Or perhaps the
tion which he would not own to himself, old man had fallen ill and was now lying
he fumbled for several moments without helpless in his room. Filled with this
finding the knob. The hall was strangely latter thought, he went straight to Tim¬
dark, and a glimmering from the ashen mers’ bedchamber, which was on the
sunset, sifted between tall pines into the ground floor, at the back of the mansion.
doorway behind him, was seemingly It was empty, and the bed was neatly
powerless to penetrate beyond its thresh¬ made and had obviously not been occu¬
old. He could see nothing; it was as if pied since the night before. With a
the night of dead ages had laired in suspiration of relief that seemed to lift
that hallway; and his nostrils, while he a horrid incubus from his bosom, he de¬
stood groping, were assailed by a dry cided that his first conjecture had been
pungency as of ancient dust, an odor as correct.
of corpses and coffins long indistinguish¬ Now, pending the return of Timmers,
able in powdery decay. he nerved himself to another act of in¬
spection, and went forthwith into his
A T last he found the switch; but the
l illumination that responded was
study. He would not admit to himself
precisely what it was that he had feared
somehow dim and insufficient, and he to see; but at first glance, the room was
 THE TREADER OF THE DUST 243

unchanged, and all things were as they that one of the windows must have been
had been at the time of his flurried de¬ left open, but a glance assured him that
parture. The confused and high-piled they were shut, with tightly drawn blinds;
litter of manuscripts, volumes, notebooks and the door was closed behind him. The
on his writing-table had seemingly lain draft was light as the sighing of a phan¬
untouched by anything but his own hand; tom, but wherever it passed, the fine,
and his bookshelves, with their bizarre weightless powder soared aloft, filling the
and terrifical array of authorities on air and settling again with utmost slow¬
diabolism, necromancy, goety, on all the ness. Sebastian felt a weird alarm, as if
ridiculed or outlawed sciences, were un¬ a wind had blown him from chartless di¬
disturbed and intact. On the old lectum mensions, or through some hidden rift of
or reading-stand which he used for his ruin; and simultaneously he was seized
heavier tomes, The Testaments of Carna- by a paroxysm of prolonged and violent
magos, in its covers of shagreen with coughing.
hasps of human bone, lay open at the He could not locate the source of the
very page which had frightened him so draft. But, as he moved restlessly about,
unreasonably with its eldritch intima¬ his eye was caught by a low long mound
tions. of the gray dust, which had heretofore
Then, as he stepped forward between been hidden from view by the table. It
the reading-stand and the table, he per¬ lay beside the chair in which he usually
ceived for the first time the inexplicable sat while writing. Near the heap was the
dustiness of everything. Dust lay every¬ feather-duster used by Timmers in his
where: a fine gray dust like a powder of daily round of house-cleaning.
dead atoms. It had covered his manu¬ It seemed to Sebastian that the rigor
scripts with a deep film, it had settled of a great, lethal coldness had invaded all
thickly upon the chairs, the lamp-shades, his being. He could not stir for several
the volumes; and the rich poppy-like reds minutes, but stood peering down at the
and yellows of the oriental rugs were inexplicable mound. In the center of that
bedimmed by its accumulation. It was mound he saw a vague depression, which
as if many desolate years had passed might have been the mark of a very small
through the chamber since his own de¬ footprint half erased by the gusts of air
parture, and had shaken from their that had evidently taken much of the dust
shroud-like garments the dust of all and scattered it about the chamber.
ruined things. The mystery of it chilled At last the power of motion returned
Sebastian: for he knew that the room had to Sebastian. Without conscious recogni¬
been clean-swept only three days previ¬ tion of the impulse that prompted him,
ous; and Timmers would have dusted the he bent forward to pick up the feather-
place each morning with meticulous care duster. But, even as his fingers touched
during his absence. it, the handle and the feathers crumbled
Now the dust rose up in a light, swirl¬ into fine powder which, settling in a low
ing cloud about him, it filled his nostrils pile, preserved vaguely the outlines of the
with the same dry odor, as of fantastically original object!
ancient dissolution, that had met him in A weakness came upon Sebastian, as if
the hall. At the same moment he grew the burden of utter age and mortality had
aware of a cold, gusty draft that had gathered crushingly on his shoulders be¬
somehow entered the room. He thought tween one instant and the next. There
244 WEIRD TALES

was a whirling of vertiginous shadows had flown across it; and Sebastian’s eyes
before his eyes in the lamplight, and he blurred with a gathering rheum as he
felt that he should swoon unless he sat read again that sinister, fatal passage
down immediately. He put out his hand which had served to provoke shadowy
to reach the chair beside him—and the fears:
chair, at his touch, fell instantly into
light, downward-sifting clouds of dust. Though Quachil Uttaus cometh but rarely, it
hath been well attested that his advent is not al¬

A fterward—how long afterward he

• could not tell—he found himself
ways in response to the spoken rune and the
drawn pentade. . . . Few wizards, indeed, would
call upon a spirit so baleful. ... But let it be
understood that he who readeth to himself, in the
sitting in the high chair before the lec- silence of his chamber, the formula given here¬
under, must incur a grave risk if in his heart there
turn on which The Testaments of Carna-
abide openly or hidden the least desire of death
magos lay open. Dimly he was surprized and annihilation. For it may be that Quachil Ut¬
that the seat had not crumbled beneath taus will come to him, bringing that doom which
toucheth the body to eternal dust, and maketh the
him. Upon him, as once before, there soul as a vapor for evermore dissolved. And the
was the urgency of swift, sudden flight advent of Quachil Uttaus is foreknowable by cer¬
tain tokens: for in the person of the evocator, and
from that accursed house: but it seemed even perchance in those about him, will appear
that he had grown too old, too weary and the signs of sudden age; and his house, and those
belongings which he hath touched, will assume
feeble; and that nothing mattered greatly the marks of untimely decay and antiquity. . . .
—not even the grisly doom which he ap¬
prehended. Sebastian did not know that he was
Now, as he sat there in a state half mumbling the sentences half aloud as he
terror, half stupor, his eyes were drawn read them; that he was also mumbling
to the wizard volume before him: the the terrible incantation that followed. . . .
writings of that evil sage and seer, His thoughts crawled as if through a chill
Camamagos, which had been recovered a and freezing medium. With a dull,
thousand years agone from some Graeco- ghastly certainty, he knew that Timmers
Bactrian tomb, and transcribed by an had not gone to the village. He should
apostate monk in the original Greek, in have warned Timmers before leaving; he
the blood of an incubus-begotten mon¬ should have closed and locked The Testa¬
ster. In that volume were the chronicles ments of Camamagos ... for Timmers,
of great sorcerers of old, and the histories in his way, was something of a scholar and
of demons earthly and ultra-cosmic, and was not without curiosity concerning the
the veritable spells by which the demons occult studies of his master. Timmers
could be called up and controlled and dis¬ was well able to read the Greek of Cama¬
missed. Sebastian, a profound student of magos . . . even that dire and soul-blast¬
such lore, had long believed that the book ing formula to which Quachil Uttaus,
was a mere medieval legend; and he had demon of ultimate corruption, would re¬
been startled as well as gratified when he spond from the outer void. . .. Too well
found this copy on the shelves of a dealer Sebastian divined the origin of the gray
in old manuscripts and incunabula. It dust, the reason of those mysterious
was said that only two copies had ever crumblings. . . .
existed, and that the other had been de¬ Again he felt the impulse of flight: but
stroyed by the Spanish Inquisition early his body was a dry dead incubus that re¬
in the Thirteenth Century. fused to obey his volition. Anyway, he
The light flickered as if ominous wings reflected, it was too late now, for the
 THE TREADER OF THE DUST 245

signs of doom had gathered about him Out of that star—or from the spaces
and upon him. . . . Yet surely there had beyond it—a beam of livid radiance, wan
never been in his heart the least longing and deathly, was hurled like a spear upon
for death and destruction. He had Sebastian. Broad as a plank, unwavering,
wished only to pursue his delvings into immovable, it seemed to transfix his very
the blacker mysteries that environed the body and to form a bridge between him¬
mortal estate. And he had always been self and the worlds of unimagined dark¬
cautious, had never cared to meddle with ness.
magic circles and evocations of perilous He was as one petrified by the gaze of
presences. He had known that there were the Gorgon. Then, through the aperture
spirits of evil, spirits of wrath, perdition, of ruin, there came something that glided
annihilation: but never, of his own will, stiffly and rapidly into the room toward
should he have summoned any of them him, along the beam. The wall seemed
from their night-bound abysms... . to crumble, the rift widened as it entered.
His lethargy and weakness seemed to It was a figure no larger than a young
increase: it was as if whole lustrums, child, but sere and shriveled as some mil¬
whole decades of senescence had fallen lennial mummy. Its hairless head, its un¬
upon him in the drawing of a breath. The featured face, borne on a neck of skel¬
thread of his thoughts was broken at in¬ eton thinness, were lined with a thousand
tervals, and he recovered it with diffi¬ reticulated wrinkles. The body was like
culty. His memories, even his fears, that of some monstrous, withered abor¬
seemed to totter on the edge of some final tion that had never drawn breath. The
forgetfulness. With dulled ears he heard pipy arms, ending in bony claws, were
a sound as of timbers breaking and fall¬ outthrust as if ankylosed in the posture
ing somewhere in the house; with of an eternal dreadful groping. The legs,
dimmed eyes like those of an ancient he with feet like those of a pigmy Death,
saw the lights waver and go out beneath were drawn tightly together as though
the swooping of a bat-black darkness. confined by the swathings of the tomb;
It was as if the night of some crum¬ nor was there any movement of striding
bling catacomb had closed upon him. He or pacing. Upright and rigid, the horror
felt at whiles the chill faint breathing of floated swiftly down the wan, deathly
the draft that had troubled him before gray beam toward Sebastian.
with its mystery; and again the dust rose Now it was close upon him, its head
up in his nostrils. Then he realized that level with his brow and its feet opposite
the room was not wholly dark, for he his bosom. For a fleeting moment he
could discern the dim outlines of the knew that the horror had touched him
lectum before him. Surely no ray was ad¬ with its outflung hands, with its starkly
mitted by the drawn window-blinds: yet floating feet. It seemed to merge within
somehow there was light. His eyes, lift¬ him, to become one with his being. He
ing with enormous effort, saw for the felt that his veins were choked with dust,
first time that a rough, irregular gap had that his brain was crumbling cell by cell.
appeared in the room’s outer wall, high Then he was no longer John Sebastian,
up in the north comer. Through it, but a universe of dead stars and worlds
a single star shone into the chamber, that fell eddying into darkness before the
cold and remote as the eye of a demon tremendous blowing of some ultrastellar
glaring across intercosmic gulfs. wind. . . .
246 WEIRD TALES

T he thing that immemorial wizards

had named Quachil Uttaus was
Sebastian: only a low mound of dust on
the floor beside the lectum, bearing a
gone; and night and starlight had re¬ vague depression like the imprint of a
turned to that ruinous chamber. But no¬ small foot ... or of two feet that were
where was there any shadow of John pressed closely together.

Salt
By EDGAR DANIEL KRAMER

All of fifty years I’ve wandered

Up an’ down the Seven Seas
From the howlin’ arctic blizzards
To the sun-kissed Celebes,
But my heart was ever dreamin’.
As I journeyed east an’ west,
Of my turnin’ from the waters,
When I found a port of rest.

Now I’m settled in Snug Harbor,

Old an’ grizzled, with a peg,
That has kept me navigatin’
Since a shark nipped off my leg;
But, though I have nifty quarters,
Where I hear the waters roar,
I've discovered that a seaman
Can’t find happiness ashore.

Which explains my bein’ grouchy.

When I should be satisfied,
But I’m achin’ to be sailin’
In the ways I’m now denied.
For I hear the waters callin’,
An’ I’m knowin’ in my bones
That there ain’t no rest for sailors,
Till they sleep with Davy Jones.
 -/ dol and the Rajah
By CLAUDE FARRERE

What mystic connection did the Rajah of Saharajonpur have with the
six-armed goddess Kali? A strange tale of sudden death

T HE Idol which plays a part in this

experience of mine (or does it
You will remember that Churah Sungh
was at the time of his death Rajah of
play a part, after all?) is an ivory Saharajonpur, under the suzerainty of the
image which a Singhalese sold me once Emperor of the Indies. But in 1903 he
for thirty rupees, at Mount Lavinia in was still only the heir presumptive to the
Ceylon, on the terrace of the famous rajahship, and he and I were touring
hotel which serves the best curry on the Europe together. We had become ac¬
island. This bit of carved ivory represents quainted some six years before, in Cey¬
a Hindoo matron in a strange squatting lon—as a matter of fact, it was on the
position. The lady has six arms with very day when I bought the Idol at
which she is gesticulating vigorously, Mount Lavinia. I saw him first at lunch.
holding in each hand a severed head Churah Sungh, distinguished young na¬
which she grasps firmly about the neck. bob in elegant traveling-costume with a
The effect is that of a sort of Tanagra in rainbow-colored turban, was having diffi¬
the Asiatic manner, and it is a little hard culty in making his wants known to the
on sensitive nerves. I presume you obsequious and troubled native waiters.
haven’t any sympathy with the foolish "Rajah Sahib," I said to him in the
tales of transmigrations and metempsy¬ Urdu speech, “would you like to have an
choses. In that case my Idol will have interpreter?"
only a passing interest for you; and in "You’re jolly well right I’d like to
that case there will be, for you, no par¬ have one!” he answered me in faultless
ticular connection between the image and English. "I’m a Punjabi, as you see. I
the adventure which I am moved to tell can’t make anything out of these bar¬
you about. barous Southern lingoes. By Jove, man!
The affair dates back a number of you speak all the languages, don’t you?”
years. To be precise, it happened to me We were friends from that moment. It
on Monday, March 2, 1903, in Salonica, was about an hour later that I bought the
in Macedonia, in a blind alley in the Idol. And this time it was Churah
upper Jewish quarter. I should never in Sungh’s turn to place his information at
the world have published it during the my service.
lifetime of Churah Sungh, who shared "Well now!” he exclaimed when he
with me the position of protagonist in took a look at my new purchase. “Well
the business. But Churah Sungh died now, fancy that! That’s my grandmoth¬
back before the Great War, in his capital er!”
of Saharajonpur—died without issue. So "Your-?”
I see no reason why I should not men¬ "Yes sir, that’s who it is, my grand¬
tion the extraordinary happening if I mother! That’s Kali, the Six-Armed
choose. Goddess. And we Rajahs of Saharajon-
248 WEIRD TALES

pur, we are direct lineal descendants of High-minded Britisher in all his ideas
Kali. But I must admit that we have de¬ and ideals. English to the very tips of
generated.” his fingers. But underneath, a Hindoo to
And he tapped each of his shoulders the marrow of his bones.
jocosely with the opposite hand.
prince had two stout, muscular arms, it
is true, but only two.
The
W E WALKED along together, to the
end of the Rue Parallele, with its
He was the sort of Hindoo prince you great, flat paving-stones, then up the little
meet often nowadays: educated at Sand¬ streets which climbed the Upper Town,
hurst, an officer in the British army; var¬ with their unpleasant sharp pebbles. It
nished with English culture from head to was darker than a pocket. There were
foot. But underneath, there was still a lowering clouds, and street-lighting was
Hindoo. unknown. I knew in a general way what
direction we were supposed to take. But
Now for what happened six years
anybody who knows what a labyrinth the
later: It was on the evening of March 2,
city of Salonica can be when it chooses,
1903. At about eight o’clock, Churah
will understand how it came about that
Sungh and I left our hotel in the Rue
after half an hour of stumbling through
Parallele, in Salonica, to take dinner
that tangle of alleys in the dark, I realized
with the general in command of the In¬
that I was lost.
ternational Gendarmerie. (The reader
will not have forgotten that in 1903 "Churah Sungh,” I said at last, sheep¬
Salonica still belonged to Turkey.) We ishly, "I haven’t the least idea where we
had been in Salonica for two days. We are. I believe the best thing we can do is
had been making a sort of tour of in¬ to climb straight up to those terraces up
spection of the District of Mitrovitza. above us there. Then we can see the
The revolt of the Comitadjis was at its whole town.”
height. They were an ugly bunch, those "Yes, let’s get up there as quick as we
fellows, and Europeans were a lot of nin¬ can. Too bad we’ll be late for dinner!”
nies to be taken in by their crocodile It was written that we should be even
tears. I was writing a series of letters on later than we expected at that time. As
Balkan conditions for the London Daily we stumbled through a dark, twisting lit¬
Herald, and I had had a dozen threaten¬ tle street that was blacker than a mole-
ing notes and had even been shot at from hole, somebody hit me a furious blow on
behind a hedge. The bullet had missed the back of the head, and I dropped in
me by two inches. But I felt it my duty my tracks without a whimper. Awhile
to tell the world what I knew about this later I came to my senses and discovered
business. After the affair of the bullet, I that I was lying on the pavement, on the
had proposed to Churah Sungh that we spot where I had fallen, but that I was
separate. I reminded him that it was dan¬ tied up like a sausage. When I opened
gerous to stick around in my neighbor¬ my mouth to cry for help, a big devil of
hood. But he came back at me indig¬ a Bulgarian with a face like some savage
nantly. beast stuck the point of a knife against
"What do you take me for, old fellow? my throat. When I felt the sharp, chilly
By Jupiter, I believe I’m a man, no mat¬ knife-blade touch my flesh, I decided that
ter whatever else I may be or may not it would be best to keep quiet.
be!” I was lying on my right side, and my
 THE IDOL AND THE RAJAH 249

guard squatted on his heels in front of "You—Harold Furth?” he inquired in

me. I could see nothing but a ferocious broken English.
Bulgarian phiz and a big toad-sticker.
But I was sufficiently well informed with¬
out any enlargement of my landscape. I
I did not answer either Yes or No. He
sneered. He had the answer to his
knew that I had fallen into the hands of question in my silence. Another scalawag
the Comitadjis, and I cherished no illu¬ came up and pointed at Churah Sungh.
sions about my fate. The scoundrels had The leader shrugged his shoulders and
missed me on the road out in the coun¬ pronounced several words which I could
try, but they had me now, and there was not understand, but the gesture which ac¬
no danger of their letting me go. companied them was unmistakable. And
Nothing happened for a quarter of an to make assurance doubly sure, we were
hour. I heard steps approaching, and the formally notified, in English, of the fate
light of a lantern was reflected from the that awaited us. The man with the mask
blade which still pointed menacingly at stammered, awkwardly but intelligibly:
my throat. Rough hands seized me and "The Bulgarian Committee of Salonica
plumped me up against a wall. The first has condemned the two of you to death.
thing that caught my eye was my friend You will be executed at once.”
Churah Sungh, trussed up and propped The point of the dirty fellow’s knife
against the wall just as I was. He still caressed my Adam’s apple. There
had dropped into a strange squatting would have been no point in crying out.
position. I could see that his Hin¬ The houses which surrounded us, black,
doo essence had cast off the English silent and grated like prisons, gave no
envelope, as it always did in crises of promise of aid. I have often heard it
elemental emotion. He was crouching said that the imminence of death stimu¬
with his knees separated and his legs lates the brain to extraordinary activity.
horizontal, in a posture that no one but It may be so, but I had no such experi¬
an Asiatic could ever get himself into—I ence at that moment. What I felt, in¬
realized, in a flash of remembrance, that stead, was a stupid and inert sort of
he was in exactly the position that my resignation. I remember that I had a sen¬
Idol had taken. . . . sation of extreme chilliness in the small
I was not allowed a great deal of time of my back, and that I reasoned vaguely
to think my discovery over. Suddenly the that an Englishman, assassinated in that
man with the lantern flashed it into my cowardly fashion, must give his assassins
face. And another man — there were a lesson of courage, by dying disdain¬
eight or ten of them altogether—came up fully, with his head in the air. Then I
and stared at me. This last fellow was a began to think, jerkily, with no particu¬
little less dirty than his acolytes, and he lar reason for any of it, of a whole in¬
seemed more anxious to remain incognito. coherent procession of things and per¬
He wore a neat black mask which left sons: of my father, who had died in his
nothing of his face visible but his eyes. bed as I stood at his bedside, in Brighton
He studied my features for a minute —of a poker game I had won a couple of
that seemed an eternity. Then he pulled days before—and then, strangely, of the
out of his pocket two numbers of the Idol. . . .
London Herald, unfolded them, and laid Then I felt a sudden obligation, just
his finger on my signature. as a pair of brutal hands were pulling me
250 WEIRD TALES

down on my knees. It was doubtless a and gagging. The man with the mask
sort of reminiscence of my reading, for and the man with the knife, attacked in
that is the way things are done in books. the same way—or is "attacked” the word
I turned my head toward Churah Sungh: for it?—struggled in some mysterious
"Rajah Sahib,” I said, "can you for¬ grasp, gasped and writhed in the death
give me for causing your death like this?” agony. It seemed—yes—it seemed as if
Churah Sungh had strangled the four
He did not answer. I looked around
wretches with his own hands. And yet
at him, carefully. He had not lost con¬
all the time I could see distinctly that his
sciousness. I could see his eyes, black and
hands—his two hands—were lashed mo¬
white, his Hindoo eyes, which glittered
tionless to his body!
strangely in the darkness. And I could
The four grimacing faces stiffened and
hear that he was chanting some incom¬
blackened. The four twisted bodies
prehensible prayer in one of those sacred
dropped to the pavement, lifeless heaps
languages of the North of India which
of flesh. I saw them fall. I saw four
only the priests and the rulers up there
corpses lying before me. Then I remem¬
understand.
bered that the rest of the band had fled,
Then, all at once, the butchers seized
howling with terror.
him. It was evident that they had decided
And in the unnatural silence which
to- kill him first. I could see him in the
followed, I recall that I heard my own
gloom, very distinctly, still crouching, his
teeth chattering.
bust very straight, like the Idol, exactly
like the Idol.
of his
Two men had taken hold
shoulders. A third advanced
I T was a night watchman who released
us, entirely uninjured, an hour later.
toward him with a knife in his hand.
As we were friends of the general in
The masked man, who stood looking on,
command of the International Gendar¬
took a step forward to supervise the
merie, there was no investigation. The
execution. . . .
dead men were four well-known Comi-
Then something mysterious and ter¬ tadjis who were on the black books of
rible happened. the police.
The two men who had been holding Churah Sungh never made a comment
Churah Sungh let go of him suddenly, on the affair. And the only reason why
and their hands went up to their own I am telling it now is that Churah Sungh
throats, as if to pry loose the grip of in¬ long ago went to his reward, leaving no
visible fingers which were choking them. descendants, so that the line of the Rajahs
They tried to cry out, but their voices of Saharajonpur is extinct, and that con¬
were hoarse and muffled, and their two sequently there is no longer on earth a
cries ended in ghastly noises of gargling child of Kali, the Six-Armed Goddess.
 Ln Amundsen’s Tent*
By JOHN MARTIN LEAHY

"Inside the tent, in a little bag, I left a letter, it the work of a mind deranged; little
addressed to H. M. the King, giving information
of what he [sic] had accomplished. . . . Besides wonder, forsooth, if his mind had given
this letter, I wrote a short epistle to Captain Scott, way, what with the fearful sufferings
who, I assumed, would be the first to find the
tent.” which he had gone through and the hor¬
Captain Amundsen: The South Pole. ror of that fate which was closing in
"We have just arrived at this tent, 2 miles from upon him.
our camp, therefore about 1% miles from the pole.
In the tent we find a record of five Norwegians What was it, that thing (if thing it
having been here, as follows: was) which came to him, the sole sur¬
Roald Amundsen
vivor of the party which had reached the
Olav Olavson Bjaaland
Hilmer Hanssen Southern Pole, thrust itself into the tent
Sverre H. Hassel
and, issuing, left but the severed head
Oscar Wisting
16 Dec. 1911. of Drumgold there?
Our explanation at the time, and until
"Left a note to say I had visited the tent with recently, was that Drumgold had been set
companions.”
Captain Scott: his last journal. upon by his dogs and devoured. Why,
though, the flesh had not been stripped
“fTpl RAVELERS,” says Richard A. from the head was to us an utter mystery.
I Proctor, "are sometimes said to But that was only one of many things that
■** tell marvelous stories; but it is a were utter mysteries.
noteworthy fact that, in nine cases out of But now we know—or feel certain—
ten, the marvelous stories of travelers that this explanation was as far from the
have been confirmed.” truth as that desolate, ice-mantled spot
Certainly no traveler ever set down a where he met his end is from the smiling,
more marvelous story than that of Robert flower-spangled regions of the tropics.
Drumgold. This record I am at last giv¬ Yes, we thought that the mind of poor
ing to the world, with my humble apolo¬ Robert Drumgold had given way, that
gies to the spirit of the hapless explorer the horror in Amundsen’s tent and that
for withholding it so long. But the truth thing which came to Drumgold there in
is that Eastman, Dahlstrom and I thought his own—we thought all was madness
♦From Weird Tales for January, 1928. only. Hence our suppression of this part
251
252 WEIRD TALES

of the Drumgold manuscript. We feared To think that we stood there, in the very
that the publication of so extraordinary a spot where it had been, and thought the
record might cast a cloud of doubt upon story but as the baseless fabric of some
the real achievements of the Sutherland madman’s vision!
expedition.
But of late our ideas and beliefs have
undergone a change that is nothing less
H ow vividly it all rises before me
again—the white expanse, glaring,
than a metamorphosis. This metamorpho¬ blinding in the untempered light of the
sis, it is scarcely necessary to say, was due Antarctic sun; the dogs straining in the
to the startling discoveries made in the harness, the cases on the sleds, long and
region of the Southern Pole by the late black like coffins; our sudden halt as
Captain Stanley Livingstone, as confirmed Eastman fetched up in his tracks, pointed
and extended by the expedition conduct¬ and said, "Hello! What’s that?”
ed by Darwin Frontenac. Captain Living¬ A half-mile or so off to the left, some
stone, we now learn, kept his real discov¬ object broke the blinding white of the
ery, what with the doubts and derision plains.
which met him on his return to the world,
"Nunatak, I suppose,” was my answer.
a secret from every living soul but two—
"Looks to me like a cairn or a tent,”
Darwin Frontenac and Bond McQuestion.
Dahlstrom said.
It is but now, on the return of Frontenac,
that we learn how truly wonderful and "How on earth,” I queried, "could a
amazing were those discoveries made by tent have got down here in 87° 30' south?
the ill-starred captain. And yet, despite We are far from the route of either
the success of the Frontenac expedition, Amundsen or Scott.”
it must be admitted that the mystery down "H’m,” said Eastman, shoving his am¬
there in the Antarctic is enhanced rather ber-colored glasses up onto his forehead
than dissipated. Darwin Frontenac and that he might get a better look, "I won¬
his companions saw much; but we know der. Jupiter Ammon, Nels,” he added,
that there are things and beings down glancing at Dahlstrom, "I believe that you
there that they did not see. The Antarctic are right.”
—or, rather, part of it—has thus sudden¬ "It certainly,” Dahlstrom nodded, "looks
ly become the most interesting and cer¬ like a cairn or a tent to me. I don’t think
tainly the most fearful place upon this it’s a nunatak.”
interesting and fearful globe of ours. "Well,” said I, “it would not be diffi¬
So another marvelous story told—or, cult to put it to the proof.”
rather, only partly told—by a traveler has "And that, my hearties,” exclaimed
been confirmed. And here are Eastman Eastman, "is just what we’U do! We’ll
and I preparing to go once more to the soon see what it is—whether it is a cairn,
Antarctic to confirm, as we hope, another a tent, or only a nunatak.”
story—one eery and fearful as any ever The next moment we were in motion,
conceived by any romanticist. heading straight for that mysterious ob¬
And to think that it was ourselves, ject there in the midst of the eternal deso¬
Eastman, Dahlstrom and I, who made the lation of snow and ice.
discovery! Yes, it was we who entered "Look there!” Eastman, who was lead¬
the tent, found there the head of Robert ing the way, suddenly shouted. "See that?
Drumgold and the pages whereon he had It is a tent!”
scrawled his story of mystery and horror. A few moments, and I saw that it was
 IN AMUNDSEN’S TENT 253

indeed so. But who had pitched it there? light within somewhat weird and ghastly
What were we to find within it? —or perhaps my imagination contributed
I could never describe those thoughts not a little to that effect.
and feelings which were ours as we ap¬ "What do you see, Bill?” asked East¬
proached that spot. The snow lay piled man. "What’s inside?”
about the tent to a depth of four feet or My answer was a cry, and the next in¬
more. Near by, a splintered ski protrud¬ stant I had sprung back from the en¬
ed from the surface—and that was all. trance.
And the stillness! The air, at the mo¬ "What is it, Bill?” Eastman exclaimed,
ment, was without the slightest move¬ "Great heaven, what is it, man?”
ment. No sounds but those made by our "A head!” I told him.
movements, and those of the dogs, and "A head?”
our own breathing, broke that awful si¬ "A human head!”
lence of death. He and Dahlstrom stooped and peered
"Poor devils!” said Eastman at last. in.
"One thing, they certainly pitched their "What is the meaning of this?” East¬
tent well.” man cried. "A severed human head!”
The tent was supported by a single Dahlstrom dashed a mittened hand
pole, set in the middle. To this pole across his eyes.
three guy-lines were fastened, one of them "Are we dreaming?” he exclaimed.
as taut as the day its stake had been driven " ’Tis no dream, Nels,” returned our
into the surface. But this was not all: a leader. "I wish to heaven it was. A head!
half-dozen lines, or more, were attached A human head!”
to the sides of the tent. There it stood, “Is there nothing more?” I asked.
and had stood for we knew not how "Nothing. No body, not even stripped
long, bidding defiance to the fierce winds bone—only that severed head. Could the
of that terrible region.
Dahlstrom and I got each a spade and "Yes?” queried Dahlstrom.
began to remove the snow. The entrance "Could the dogs have done this?”
we found unfastened but completely "Dogs!” Dahlstrom said. "This is not
blocked by a couple of provision-cases the work of dogs.”
(empty) and a piece of canvas. We entered and stood looking down
"How on earth,” I exclaimed, "did upon that grisly remnant of mortality.
those things get into that position?” "It wasn’t dogs,” said Dahlstrom.
"The wind,” said Dahlstrom. "And, "Not dogs?” Eastman queried. "What
if the entrance had not been blocked, other explanation is there—except can¬
there wouldn’t have been any tent here nibalism?”
now; the wind would have split and de¬ Cannibalism! A shudder went through
stroyed it long ago.” my heart. I may as well say at once, how¬
"H’m,” mused Eastman. "The wind ever, that our discovery of a good supply
did it, Nels—blocked the place like that? of pemmican and biscuit on the sled, at
I wonder.” that moment completely hidden by the
The next moment we had cleared the snow, was to show us that that fearful
entrance. I thrust my head through the explanation was not the true one. The
opening. Strangely enough, very little dogs! That was it, that was the explana¬
snow had drifted in. The tent was dark tion—even though what the victim him¬
green, a circumstance which rendered the self had set down told us a very different
254 WEIRD TALES

story. Yes, the explorer had been set before us. Did we halt, there they were
upon by his dogs and devoured. But gazing and gazing straight south and
there were things.that militated against sometimes sniffing and sniffing. What
that theory. Why had the animals left does it mean?
that head—in the frozen eyes (they were Yes, in fine spirits all—dogs as well
blue eyes) and upon the frozen features as we three men. Everything is auspicious.
of which was a look of horror that sends The weather for the last three days has
a shudder through my very soul even been simply glorious. Not once, in this
now? Why, the head did nothave even the time, has the temperature been below
mark of a single fang, though it appeared minus 5. As I write this, the thermom¬
to have been chewed from the trunk. eter shows one degree above. The blue
Dahlstrom, however, was of the opinion of the sky is like that of which painters
that it had been hacked off. dream, and, in that blue, tower cloud
And there, in the man’s story, in the formations, violet-tinged in the shadows,
story of Robert Drumgold, we found an¬ that are beautiful beyond all description.
other mystery—a mystery as insoluble (if If it were possible to forget the fact that
it was true) as the presence here of his nothing stands between ourselves and a
severed head. There the story was, horrible death save the meager supply of
scrawled in lead-pencil across the pages food on the sleds, one could think he was
of his journal. But what were we to make in some fairyland—a glorious fairyland
of a record—the concluding pages of it, of white and blue and violet.
that is—so strange and so dreadful? A fairyland? Why has that thought so
But enough of this, of what we thought often occurred to me? Why have I so
and of what we wondered. The journal often likened this desolate, terrible region
itself lies before me, and I now proceed to fairyland? Terrible? Yes, to human
to set down the story of Robert Drumgold beings it is terrible—frightful beyond all
in his own words. Not a word, not a words. But, though so unutterably terri¬
comma shall be deleted, inserted or ble to men, it may not be so in reality.
changed. After all, are all things, even of this earth
Let it begin with his entry for January of ours, to say nothing of the universe,
the 3rd, at the end of which day the little made for man—this being (a god-like
party was only fifteen miles (geograph¬ spirit in the body of a quasi-ape) who,
ical) from the Pole. set in the midst of wonders, leers and
Here it is. slavers in madness and hate and wallows
in the muck of a thousand lusts? May
J an. 3.—Lat. of our camp 89° 45' 10". there not be other beings—yes, even on
Only fifteen miles more, and the Pole this very earth of ours—more wonderful
is ours—unless Amundsen or Scott has —yes, and more terrible too—than he?
beaten us to it, or both. But it will be ours Heaven knows, more than once, in this
just the same, even though the glory of desolation of snow and ice, I have seemed
discovery is found to be another’s. What to feel their presence in the air about us
shall we find there? —nameless entities, disembodied, watch¬
All are in fine spirits. Even the dogs ing things.
seem to know that this is the consumma¬ Little wonder, forsooth, that I have
tion of some great achievement. And a again and again thought of these strange
thing that is a mystery to us is the interest words of one of America’s greatest scien¬
they have shown this day in the region tists, Alexander Winchell:
 IN AMUNDSEN’S TENT 255

"Nor is incorporated rational existence J an. 4.—The mystery and horror of

conditioned on warm blood, nor on any this day—oh, how could I ever set that
temperature which does not change the down? Sometimes, so fearful were those
forms of matter of which the organism hours through which we have just passed,
may be composed. There may be intelli¬ I even find myself wondering if it wasn’t
gences corporealized after some concept all only a dream. A dream! I would to
not involving the processes of ingestion, heaven that it had been but a dream! As
assimilation and reproduction. Such bod¬ for the end—there, there, I must keep
ies would not require daily food and such thoughts out of my head.
warmth. They might be lost in the abyss¬ Got under way at an early hour. Weath¬
es of the ocean, or laid up on a stormy er more wondrous than ever. Sky an
cliff through the tempests of an arctic azure that would have sent a painter into
winter, or plunged in a volcano for a ecstasies. Cloud-formations indescribably
hundred years, and yet retain conscious¬ beautiful and grand. The going, how¬
ness and thought.” ever, was pretty difficult. The place a
All this Winchell tells us is conceiv¬ great plain stretching away with a mo¬
able, and he adds: notonous uniformity of surface as far as
Bodies are merely the local fitting of the eye could reach. A plain never trod
intelligence to particular modifications of by human foot before? At length, when
universal matter and force ” our dead reckoning showed that we were
And these entities, nameless things drawing near to the Pole, we had the
whose presence I seem to feel at times—• answer to that. Then it was that the keen
are they benignant beings or things more eyes of Travers detected some object ris¬
fearful than even the madness of the hu¬ ing above the blinding white of the snow.
man brain ever has fashioned? On the instant Sutherland had thrust
But, then, I must stop this. If Suther¬ his amber glasses up onto his forehead
land or Travers were to read what I have and had his binoculars to his eyes.
set down here, they would think that I "Cairn!” he exclaimed, and his voice
was losing my senses or would declare sounded hollow and very strange. "A
me already insane. And yet, as there is cairn or a—tent. Boys, they have beaten
a heaven above us, it seems that I do ac¬ us to the Pole!”
tually believe that this frightful place He handed the glasses to Travers and
knows the presence of beings other than leaned, as though a sudden weariness had
ourselves and our dogs—things which we settled upon him, against the provision-
cannot see but which are watching us. cases on his sled.
Enough of this. "Forestalled!” said he. "Forestalled!”
Only fifteen miles from the Pole. Now I felt very sorry for our brave leader
for a sleep and on to our goal in the in those, his moments of terrible disap¬
morning. Morning! There is no morning pointment, but for the life of me I did
here, but day unending. The sun now not know what to say. And so I said
rides as high at midnight as he does at nothing.
midday. Of course, there is a change in At that moment a cloud concealed the
his altitude, but it is so slight as to be sun, and the place where we stood was
imperceptible without an instrument. suddenly involved in a gloom that was
But the Pole! Tomorrow the Pole! deep and awful. So sudden and pro¬
What will we find there? Only an un¬ nounced, indeed, was the change that we
broken expanse of white, or- gazed about us with curious and wonder-
256 WEIRD TALES

ing looks. Far off to the right and to the find out what it is—cairn or tent, for one
left, the plain blazed white and blinding. or the other it must certainly be.”
Soon, however, the last gleam of sunshine The next instant the heavy, awful si¬
had vanished from off it. I raised my lence was broken by the sharp crack of
look up to the heavens. Here and there his whip.
edges of cloud were touched as though "Mush on, you poor brutes!” he cried.
with the light of wrathful golden fire. "On we go to see what is over there.
Even then, however, that light was fad¬ Here we are at the South Pole. Let us see
ing. A few minutes, and the last angry who has beaten us to it.”
glelm of the sun had vanished. The But the dogs didn’t want to go on,
gloom seemed to deepen about us every which did not surprize me at all, be¬
moment. A curious haze was concealing cause, for some time now, they had been
the blue expanse of the sky overhead. showing signs of some strange, inexplica¬
There was not the slightest movement in ble uneasiness. What had got into the
the gloomy and weird atmosphere. The creatures, anyway? For a time we puz¬
silence was heavy, awful, the silence of zled over it; then we knew, though the
the abode of utter desolation and of explanation was still an utter mystery to
death. us. They were afraid. Afraid? An in¬
"What on earth are we in for now?” adequate word, indeed. It was fear, stark,
said Travers. terrible, that had entered the poor brutes.
Sutherland moved from his sled and But whence had come this inexplicable
stood gazing about into the eery gloom. fear? That also we soon knew. The thing
they feared, whatever it was, was in that
"Queer change, this!” said he. "It
very direction in which we were headed!
would have delighted the heart of Dore.”
A cairn, a tent? What did this thing
"It means a blizzard, most likely,” I
mean?
observed. "Hadn’t we better make camp
"What on earth is the matter with the
before it strikes us? No telling what a
critters?” exclaimed Travers. "Can it be
blizzard may be like in this awful spot.”
that-”
"Blizzard?” said Sutherland. "I don’t "It’s for us to find out what it means,”
think it means a blizzard. Bob. No telling, said Sutherland.
though. Mighty queer change, certainly.
And how different the place looks now,
in this strange gloom! It is surely weird
A gain we got in motion. The place
^ was still involved in that strange,
and terrible—that is, it certainly looks weird gloom. The silence was still that
weird and terrible.” awful silence of desolation and of death.
He turned his look to Travers. Slowly but steadily we moved forward,
"Well, Bill,” he asked, "what did you urging on the reluctant, fearful animals
make of it?” with our whips.
He waved a hand in the direction of At last Sutherland, who was leading,
that mysterious object the sight of which cried out that he saw it. He halted, peer¬
had so suddenly brought us to a halt. I ing forward into the gloom, and we urged
say in the direction of the object, for the our teams up alongside his.
thing itself was no longer to be seen. “It must be a tent,” he said.
"I believe it is a tent,” Travers told And a tent we found it to be—a small
him. one supported by a single bamboo and
"Well,” said our leader, "we can soon well guyed in all directions. Made of
W. T.—7
 WEIRD TALES 252

drab-colored gaberdine. To the top of

the tent-pole another had been lashed.
From this, motionless in the still air, hung
the remains of a small Norwegian flag
and, underneath it, a pennant with the
word "Fram" upon it Amundsen’s tent!
Man dared become masterful and inde¬
What should we find inside it? And pendent! Centuries ago he began to probe
the mysteries of the universe, to disclose
what was the meaning of that—the the hidden truths of nature. Astounding
strange way it bulged out on one side? results were achieved—miracles, some
declared them. The conditions which en¬
The entrance was securely laced. The slaved men and women—misfortune, dis¬
ease and dispair—were conquered. This
tent, it was certain, had been here for a
wealth of knowledge was accumulated in
year, all through the long Antarctic night; vast temples and seats of learning avail¬
and yet, to our astonishment, but little able to all who sought it. This growing
power and knowledge of the masses was
snow was piled up about it, and most of a challenge to selfish rulers and corrupt
priesthoods. Alexandria was ordered
this was drift. The explanation of this burned,Tripolidestroyed.The rare know¬
must, I suppose, be that, before the air ledge was damned, seized and burned.
currents have reached the Pole, almost all THIS FREE BOOK
the snow has been deposited from them. Startling is the revelation that these
strange laws of life, nature, and personal
For some minutes we just stood there,
earth. Secret Brotherhoods were formed
and many, and some of them dreadful to conceal copies of the ancient manu¬
enough, were the thoughts that came and scripts, or rescue them from beneath i
crumbling temple walls. The Rosicru-
went. Through the long Antarctic night! cians, one of these ancient brotherhoods
What strange things this tent could tell (notareligion),have preserved this know¬
ledge that makes possible PERSONAL
us had it been vouchsafed the power of POWERandHAPPINESS. Writefor
words! But strange things it might tell the FREE SEALED BOOK.. It tells
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side, making the tent bulge out in so un¬ Rosicrucian Brotherhood
accountable a manner? I moved forward San Jose (AMORC) California

to feel of it there with my mittened hand,

but, for some reason that I cannot explain,
of a sudden I drew back. At that instant
one of the dogs whined—the sound so
strange and the terror of the animal so
unmistakable that I shuddered and felt a
chill pass through my heart. Others of the
dogs began to whine in that mysterious
manner, and all shrank back cowering
from the tent.
"What does it mean?" said Travers, We Buy Old Coins
his voice sunk almost to a whisper. "Look
at them. It is as though they are implor¬ Send dime for complete catalog listing the coins we
need. NotMna else fo buy. Mall 10c today.
ing us to—keep away.” ET, 70S E. SSrd It,, Beel. OS, Chine. IS.
"To keep away,” echoed Sutherland,
his look leaving the dogs and fixing itself
once more on the tent.
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W. T.—8
258 WEIRD TALES

keener than ours. They already know Travers’ simile was a most apposite
what we can’t know until we see it.” one, more so than he perhaps ever dreamed
"See it!” Sutherland exclaimed. "I himself. That place was a stage, our
wonder. Boys, what are we going to see light the wrathful fire of the Antarctic
when we look into that tent? Poor fel¬ sun, ourselves the actors in a scene strang¬
lows! They reached the Pole. But did er than any ever beheld in the mimic
they ever leave it? Are we going to find world.
them in there dead?” For some moments, so strange was it
"Dead?” said Travers with a sudden all, we stood there looking about us in
start. "The dogs would never act that wonder and perhaps each one of us in
way if ’twas only a corpse inside. And, not a little secret awe.
besides, if that theory was true, wouldn’t "Queer place, all right!” said Suther¬
the sleds be here to tell the story? Yet land. "But-”
look around. The level uniformity of the He laughed a hollow, sardonic laugh.
place shows that no sled lies buried here.” Up above, the pennant flapped and
"That is true,” said our leader. "What flapped again, the sound of it hollow and
can it mean? What could make that tent ghostly. Again rose the long-drawn,
bulge out like that? Well, here is the mournful, fiercely sad howl of the wolf-
mystery before us, and all we have to do dog.
is unlace the entrance and look inside to "But,” added our leader, "we don’t
solve it.” want to be imagining things, you know.”
"Of course not,” said Travers.
H e stepped to the entrance, followed "Of course not,” I echoed.
by Travers and me, and began to A little space, and the entrance was
unlace it. At that instant an icy current open and Sutherland had thrust head
of air struck the place and the pennant and shoulders through it.
above our heads flapped with a dull and I don’t know how long it was that he
ominous sound. One of the dogs, too, stood there like that. Perhaps it was only
thrust his muzzle skyward, and a deep a few seconds, but to Travers and me it
and long-drawn howl arose. And while the seemed rather long.
mournful, savage sound yet filled the air, "What is it?” Travers exclaimed at
a strange thing happened: last. "What do you see?”
Through a sudden rent in that gloomy The answer was a scream—the horror
curtain of cloud, the sun sent a golden, of that sound I can never forget—and
awful light down upon the spot where Sutherland came staggering back and, I
we stood. It was but a shaft of light, believe, would have fallen had we not
only three or four hundred feet wide, sprung and caught him.
though miles in length, and there we "What is it?” cried Travers. "In God’s
stood in the very middle of it, the plain name, Sutherland, what did you see?”
on each side involved in that weird gloom, Sutherland beat the side of his head
now denser and more eery than ever in with his hand, and his look was wild and
contrast to that sword of golden fire horrible.
which thus so suddenly had been flung "What is it?” I exclaimed. "What did
down across the snow. you see in there?”
"Queer place this!” said Travers. "Just "I can’t tell you—I can’t! Oh, oh, I
like a beam lying across a stage in a wish that I had never seen it! Don’t
theater.” (Please turn to page 260)
COMING NEXT MONTH
T HE telephone on the ebony desk buzzed softly. Keane picked it up.
A harsh voice sounded, speaking in a flat monotone.
"Ascott Keane, you are meddling again!”
The red-haired girl heard the voice as well as Keane. Her soft scream rang out:
"Doctor Satan!”
Keane’s eyes glittered. He dropped the instrument as if it had turned into a ser¬
pent in his fingers.
"I've told you death would strike if you interfered with my plans again,” the
harsh voice continued, sounding from the floor where the phone lay. "And I always
keep my promises-”
The words ended, swiftly and dramatically. With their ending, the telephone on
the floor jumped like a live thing, while from transmitter to receiver, in a thick
blue arc, crackled a stream of electricity that would have killed a dozen men.
The crackling arc streamed just as far lightning flickered in the skies south of
New York, and died as the lightning died.
Keane stared at Beatrice, who had gone white as death.
"He can harness the lightning!" he breathed. "That I cannot do myself! If I
can’t stop him soon, God knows what will happen to this city—to the whole
country-”
He stared at the instrument. The metal was half melted. The hard rubber had
been utterly consumed. Then he shrugged and turned toward the screen again,
where, dimmed now by the lights in the room but still showing, was the picture of
the dying valet, showing motionless with the stoppage of the projector.
"But I will stop him!” Keane’s voice came bleakly. "Doctor Satan, hear that,
wherever you are now.” ...
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complete in Weird Tales for September:

The Man Who Chained the Lightning

By PAUL ERNST
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THE CARNIVAL OF DEATH THE BLUE WOMAN
By Arlton Eadie By John Scott Douglas
A thrilling mystery story of the present day—an The strange and eery mystery of a beautiful woman
eery adventure with a Golden Mummy, and strange whose body glowed in the dark with an uncanny
death that walked at night. blue radiance.
yULTHOOM THE SHAMBLER FROM THE STARS
By Clark Ashton Smith By Robert Bloch
A weird-scientific story of two Earthmen on Mars The story of a blood-freezing horror, evoked by
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259
260 WEIRD TALES

(Continued from page 258) I moved toward the entrance, but Suth¬
look! Boys, don’t look into that tent— erland flung himself at me with such vio¬
unless you are prepared to welcome mad¬ lence that I was sent over into the snow.
ness, or worse.” I sprang to my feet full of anger and
"What gibberish is this?” Travers de¬ amazement.
manded,-gazing at our leader in utter as¬ "What the hell,” I cried, "is the mat¬
tonishment. "Come, come, man! Buck ter with you, anyway? Have you gone
up. Get a grip on yourself. Let’s have crazy?”
an end to this nonsense. Why should The answer was a groan, horrible be¬
the sight of a dead man, or dead men, yond all words of man, but that sound
affect you in this mad fashion?” did not come from Sutherland. I turned.
"Dead men?” Sutherland laughed, the Travers was staggering away from the en¬
sound wild, maniacal. trance, a hand pressed over his face,
"Dead men? If ’twas only that! Is this sounds that I could never describe break¬
the South Pole? Is this the earth, or are ing from deep in his throat. Sutherland,
we in a nightmare on some other planet?” as the man came staggering up to him,
"For heaven’s sake,” cried Travers, thrust forth an arm and touched Travers
"come out of it! What’s got into you? lightly on the shoulder. The effect was
Don’t let your nerves go like this.” instantaneous and frightful. Travers
“A dead man?” queried our leader, sprang aside as though a serpent had
peering into the face of Travers. "You struck at him, screamed and screamed yet
think I saw a dead man? I wish it was again.
only a dead man. Thank God, you two "There, there!” said Sutherland gently.
didn’t look!” "I told you not to do it. I tried to make
On the instant Travers had turned. you understand, but—but you thought
’Well,” said he, "I am going to look!” that I was mad.”
But Sutherland cried out, screamed, "It can’t belong to this earth!” moaned
sprang after him and tried to drag him Travers.
back. "No,” said Sutherland. "That horror
"It would mean horror and perhaps was never bom on this planet of ours.
madness!” cried Sutherland. "Look at And the inhabitants of earth, though they
me. Do you want to be like me?” do not know it, can thank God Almighty
"No!” Travers returned. "But I am for that.”
going to see what is in that tent.” "But it is here!" Travers exclaimed.
He struggled to break free, but Suther¬ "How did it come to this awful place?
land clung to him in a frenzy of madness. And where did it come from?”
"Help me. Bob!” Sutherland cried. "Well,” consoled Sutherland, "it is
"Hold him back, or we’ll all go insane.” dead—it must be dead.”
But I did not help him to hold Travers "Dead? How do we know that it is
back, for, of course, ’twas my belief that dead? And don’t forget this: it didn’t
Sutherland himself was insane. Nor did come here alone!”
Sutherland hold Travers. With a sudden Sutherland started. At that moment the
wrench, Travers was free. The next in¬ sunlight vanished, and everything was
stant he had thrust head and shoulders once more involved in gloom.
through the entrance of the tent. "What do you mean?” Sutherland
Sutherland groaned and watched him asked. "Not alone? How do you know
with eyes full of unutterable horror. that it did not come alone?”
 WEIRD TALES 261

"Why, it is there inside the tent; but YOU ARE AVOIDED IF

the entrance was laced—from the out¬
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side!"
"Fool, fool that I am!” cried Suther¬ • Prof. Orlianoff, America's Finest Dance Master.
land a little fiercely. "Why didn’t I think aatHMrfiiJSJ----
of that? Not alone! Of course it was not
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ful, savage howl of the wolf-dog.. We

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ok FREE
"Shut up, you brute!” gritted Travers.
"Shut up, or I’ll brain you!”
Whether it was Travers’ threat or not,
I do not know; but that howl sank, ceased

of11desolation6 an ^ oTde^df^y^iipon2 the

^ CENTRAL^CAMERA CO. gfc
ind of it, I
of some re-

"What did you see in

BE A DETECTIVE

m’t be any worse

BUY
rhtmare of imagi
But the two of i

must not look into that tent, Bob. You

must not see that—that—I don’t know
what to call it. Trust us; believe us, Bob!
’Tis for your sake that we say that you
must not do it. We, Travers and I, can

M^s^f S“nierbe whiTthS

I "I can’t WEIRD TALES

262 WEIRD TALES

seems to me like the dream of a mad- soul would believe us. But we can warn
people, for that thing in there did not
"That,” said Sutherland, "is a small come alone. Where is the other one—
matter indeed. Insane? Believe that it is or the others?”
the dream of a madman. Believe that we "Dead, too, let us hope!” I exclaimed.
are insane. Believe that you are insane "Amen!” said Sutherland. "But may¬
yourself. Believe anything you like. Only be, as Bill says, it isn’t dead. Prob¬
don’t look!” ably-”
"Very well,” I told them. "I won’t Sutherland paused, and a wild, inde¬
look. I give in. You two have made a scribable look came into his eyes.
coward of me.” "Maybe it—can’t die!”
"A coward?” said Sutherland. "Don’t "Probably,” said I nonchalantly, yet
talk nonsense. Bob. There are some things with secret disgust and with poignant
that a man should never know; there are sorrow.
some things that a man should never see; What was the use? What good would
that horror there in Amundsen’s tent is it do to try to reason with a couple of
—both!” madmen? Yes, we must get away from
"But you said that it is dead.” this spot, or they would have me insane,
Travers groaned. Sutherland laughed too. And the long road back? Could we
a little wildly. ever make it now? And what had they
"Trust us,” said the latter; "believe us, seen? What unimaginable horror was
Bob. ’Tis for your sake, not for our own. there behind that thin wall of gabardine?
For that is too late now. We have seen Well, whatever it was, it was real. Of
it, and you have not.” that I could not entertain the slightest
doubt. Real? Real enough to wreck, vir¬
F or some minutes we stood there by tually instantaneously, the strong brains
the tent, in that weird gloom, then of two strong men. But—were my poor
turned to leave the cursed spot. I said companions really mad, after all?
that undoubtedly Amundsen had left "Or maybe,” Sutherland was saying,
some records inside, that possibly Scott "the other one, or the others, went bade
had reached the Pole, and visited the tent, to Venus or Mars or Sirius or Algol, or
and that we ought to secure any such hell itself, or wherever they came from,
mementoes. Sutherland and Travers nod¬ to get more of their kind. If that is so,
ded, but each declared that he would not heaven have pity on poor humanity! And,
put his head through that entrance again if it or they are still here on this earth,
for all die wealth of Ormus and of Ind— then sooner or later—it may be a dozen
or words to that effect. We must, they years, it may be a century—but sooner or
said, get away from the awful place—get later the world will know it, know it to
back to the world of men with our fear¬ its wo and to its horror. For they, if liv¬
ful message. ing, or if gone for others, will come
"You won’t tell me what you saw,” I again.”
said, "and yet you want to get back so "I was thinking-” began Travers,
that you can tell it to the world.” his eyes fixed on the tent.
"We aren't going to tell the world "Yes?” Sutherland queried.
what we saw,” answered Sutherland. "In "-that,” Travers told him, "it
the first place, we couldn't, and, in the might be a good plan to empty the rifle
second place, if we could, not a living into that thing. Maybe it isn’t dead; may-
 WEIRD TALES 263

be it can’t die—maybe it only changes.

Probably it is just hibernating, so to LET ME TELL YOU
speak.” About your business, travel,
changes, matrimony, love affairs,
"If so,” I laughed, "it will probably friends, enemies, lucky days and
many other interesting and Im¬
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dicated by astrology. Send for
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"A ghost materialized!” I exclaimed. No Coins), to help defray costs.
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just that? Heaven knows, many a one acts
like a demon or a fiend incarnate.”
"They may be,” nodded Sutherland.
"But that hypothesis doesn’t help us any
here.”
"It may help things some,” said Trav¬
ers, starting toward his sled.
A moment or two, and he had got out
the rifle. LONESOME?
"I thought,” said he, "that nothing
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"It isn’t earthly. Bill,” he said hoarse¬
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"Come back, Bill!” groaned Suther¬ NOUVEAUTES PROUVE
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But Travers did not come back. Slowly
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264 WEIRD TALES

low and throbbing—a sound that no man reward only the mockery of the world’s
ever had heard on this earth—one that I unbelief, its scoffing—the world, against
hope no man will ever hear again. which is now moving, gathering, a men¬
A panic, a madness seized upon us, ace more dreadful than any that ever
upon men and dogs alike, and away we moved in the fevered brain of any proph¬
fled from that cursed place. et of wo and blood and disaster.
The sound ceased. But again we heard We are a dozen miles or so from the
it. It was more fearful, more unearthly, Pole now. In that mad dash away from
soul-maddening, hellish than before. that tent of horror, we lost our bearings
"Look!” cried Sutherland. "Oh, my and for a time, I fear, went panicky. The
God, look at that!” strange, eery gloom denser than ever.
The tent was barely visible now. A Then came a fall of fine snow-crystals,
moment or two, and the curtain of gloom which rendered things worse than ever.
would conceal it. At first I could not Just when about to give up in despair,
imagine what had made Sutherland cry chanced upon one of our beacons. This
out like that. Then I saw it, in that very gave us our bearings, and we pressed on
moment before the gloom hid it from to this spot.
view. The tent was moving! It swayed, Travers has just thrust his head into
jerked like some shapeless monster in the the tent to tell us that he is sure he saw
throes of death, like some nameless thing something moving off in the gloom.
seen in the horror of nightmare or limned Something moving! This must be looked
on the brain of utter madness itself. into.
[If Robert Drumgold could only have
A nd that is what happened there; that left as full a record of those days which
fc is what we saw. I have set it down followed as he had of that fearful 4th
at some length and to the best of my of January! No man can ever know
ability under die truly awful circumstanc¬ what the three explorers went through in
es in which I am placed. In these hastily their struggle to escape that doom from
scrawled pages is recorded an experience which there was no escape—a doom the
that, I believe, is not surpassed by the mystery and horror of which perhaps sur¬
wildest to be found in the pages of the pass in gruesomeness what the most
most imaginative romanticist. Whether dreadful Gothic imagination ever con¬
the record is destined ever to reach the ceived in its utterest abandonment to de¬
world, ever to be scanned by the eye of lirium and madness.]
another—only the future can answer that.
I will try to hope for the best. I can¬
not blink the fact, however, that things
J an. 5.—Travers had seen something,
for we, the three of us, saw it again
are pretty bad for us. It is not only this today. Was it that horror, that thing not
sinister, nameless mystery from which we of this earth, which they saw, in Amund¬
are fleeing—though heaven knows that is sen’s tent? We don’t know what it is.
horrible enough—but it is the minds of All we know is that it is something that
my companions. And, added to that, is moves. God have pity on us all—and
the fear for my own. But there, I must on every man and woman and child on
get myself in hand. After all, as Suther¬ this earth of ours if this thing is what we
land said, I didn’t see it. 1 must not give fear!
way. We must somehow get our story 6th.—Made 25 mi. today—20 yester¬
to the world, though we may have for our day. Did not see it today. But heard it\
 WEIRD TALES 265

Seemed near—once, in fact, as though

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even more. Why is it following us?
7th.—Two of dogs gone this morning.
One or another of us on guard all
lARTLESSONS.il

illS
"night”. Nothing seen, not a sound
heard, yet the animals have vanished. Did
they desert us? We say that is what hap¬
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none of us believes it. Made 18 mi. Fear EDUCATIONAL
that Travers is going mad.
8th.—Travers gone! He took the watch
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gone. Poor Sutherland! But then he was
 266 WEIRD TALES

mad. Probably that was why it took him. . Dogs still whining about tent. There—
Has it spared me because I am yet sane? that horrible hellish sound again. Dogs
S. had the rifle. Always he clung to that still now. That sound again. But I dare
rifle—as though a bullet could save him not look out. The ax.
from what we saw! My only weapon is Hours later. Can’t write any more.
an ax. But what good is an ax? Silence. Voices—I seem to hear voices.
Jan. 13.—Maybe it is the 14th. I But that sound again.
don’t know. What does it matter? Saw it Coming nearer. At entrance now—
three times today. Each time it was closer. now-

W E AWAIT with eager interest your

verdict on the stories about Doctor
about Doctor Satan and Ascott Keane. Write
and let us know what you think of them.
Satan, the first of which is pub¬
lished in this issue; for it is you, the read¬ The Horror in the Studio
ers, who determine the editorial policy of Donald Allgeier, of Mountain Grove, Mis¬
this magazine. To those of you who are souri, writes: "Although I have read only
afraid that Weird Tales will degenerate half the June issue so far, I am too enthusiastic
into just another detective magazine, we over The Horror in the Studio to delay writ¬
definitely promise that it will not do so. ing. Without reading the other stories, I am
The admission to our pages of occasional sure it will be the best in the issue. It shows
detective stories (heretofore taboo in Weird the hand of a master. I think I have read
Tales) does not mean that we are going stories by Miss Quick before, but nothing to
to specialize in detective stories, for we compare with this one. She should become
are not. Detective stories, to win accept¬ as great a writer as C. L. Moore, though in
ance in the pages of this magazine, must be a different type of stories. The story men¬
intrinsically weird tales. If the stories about tioned gripped me exceedingly. Its atmos¬
Doctor Satan and Ascott Keane—the world’s phere was perfect. In short, it was excellent
weirdest criminal and the strangest criminol¬ plus. Among the stories I have read so far
ogist—are ordinary detective stories, then we in the June issue, Howard’s Beyond the Black
do not know a weird story when we see one. River is second best. Keep coming, Conan.
We have just read the manuscript of the The short stories are good, but Bloch’s latest
third story in the series, in which Doctor is again a little too wordy and pretentious.
Satan perpetrates a ghastly horror in the I see you have some new cuts at the bottom
movie colony in Hollywood; and we can of your pages. They are well done and add
scarcely contain our enthusiasm for that story. to your magazine’s appearance. ... In con¬
But we want your reactions to the stories clusion, let me request more stories about de
 WEIRD TALES 267

Grandin, and soon. And I’d like to see

Northwest Smith in a serial."

Aerie, Aery, Eyrie, Eyry

J. L. S., of Seattle, writes to the Eyrie:
"We want you to settle a bet for us as to
the proper way to pronounce Eyrie. Several
of us had a discussion last night about it.
Just what is the proper pronunciation of the
word?” [Did you consult a dictionary? We
cannot decide your bet for you. The diction¬
aries list several different spellings of this
word, and several different pronunciations,
all of them correct. In the editorial rooms
of Weird Tales we pronounce the word to
rime with dairy (ey as in they), but this is
merely our way of pronouncing it, and does
not give us the authority to decide a bet.—•
'Die Editor.]

The Woman in Gray CLASSIFIED ADVERTISEMENTS

SMALL ADS WORTH WATCHING
Henry Kuttner, of Hollywood, writes:
"I’ve just read The Woman in Gray in your Back Copies For Sale
June issue, and it’s unequivocally the best _.. r ACATLAN—It happened in
story in that issue—and for a long time. Acatlan, and the horror ot It drove the American
to seek forgetfulness In strange drugs. While they
And it helps to prove my pet theory—that last, you can get a copy of the November 1928
true weirdness lies in subtle suggestion rath¬ '- —^lining this fascinating story and others.
_o WEIRD TALES, 840 N. Michigan Ave.,
er than in bald description. Suppose Walker Chicago, Ill.
Everett had switched to the viewpoints of _B CHAPEL OF MYSTIC HORROR by Seabury
Quinn—A Jules de Grandin thriller. As long as the
the victims, and allowed the reader to see supply lasts, you can get a copy of the December
the Gray Woman in each tragedy? Obvious¬ 1928 Issue containing this startling story and
others, by sending 25c to WEIRD TALES, 840 N.
ly the effect would have been lost, and the Michigan Ave., Chicago. Ill.
tremendously effective ending would have
been ruined. There’s no bald description in
the climax, either—just a statement that the
Woman came in, 'quietly, delicately’.”
containing stories by Seabury Quinn, Robert E.
Howard, Frank Owen, S. Gordon Gurwit and others
Postcard Brickbat —25c. MAGIC CARPET MAGAZINE, 840 N. Michi¬
gan Ave., Chicago, Ill.
J. A. Williams, of Oklahoma Gty, writes:
"Weird Tales for the past nine years are Books & Periodicals
in my possession. They represent a great SEND POSTCARD for free Little Blue Book cat¬
alog. Thousands of bargains. More than 350 books
and magnificent work. But when it comes to at 5c each. Address: Haldeman-Jullus Co., Box
a Craig Kennedy murder mystery illustrated 2100, Girard, Kansas.
on the cover of your May issue, I am com¬ Correspondence
pletely disgusted. The covers for March and LONESOME? Make friends through our Letter
June are bad enough without printing a trite Club, many whom you would be pleased to know.
Send for our Magazine to Eastern Agency (22),
detective story in our magazine. Give us Bridgeport, Conn.
more authors like H. P. Lovecraft, C. L. Health Aid
Moore, Clark Ashton Smith and Seabury BANISH CONSTIPATION—RELIEVE PILES. Ab-
Quinn.” solutely new method of moving the bowels. No
medicines, dieting, exercise, massage, injections;
Outburst etc. Positively safe and reliable. Full instructions
21.00. No further expense. Money back guarantee.
Louis C. Smith, of Oakland, California, Good Health, Box 475, Oskaloosa, Iowa.
writes: "This outburst at last—I’ve grown Poems—Songs
so tired of seeing silly arguments and bick¬
WANTED: Original Poems, Songs, MMM Publish¬
ering take up the space in the Eyrie which ers, Studio Bldg., Portland, Ore.
 268 WEIRD TALES

should be devoted to constructive criticism, first installment, here is my vote to make it

comment and suggestions on the work of the Number One interplanetary tale for the year
authors writing for WT. Fans of any type 1935, and maybe a few other years. It has
are ’ornery’ animals, no two of them alike in everything. For a young man, Bernal has
ideas, opinions or preferences. Witness the come to the fore in the ranks of fantasy
endless argument and in many cases silly writers, and come with a bang. Dorothy
haggling which continually goes on in the Quick’s story was both entertaining and or¬
discussion columns of not only Weird Tales iginal ; and Brundage’s cover illustration
but of all fantasy magazines; and in WT only added to its excellence. I give it second
itself there has since the beginning been ever place in the June issue. Enough.’’
a mad fanfare and blowing of indignant
trumpets over this, that, and the other in¬ Conan as King
consequential item. Believe it or not, a ter¬ John Malone, of Jackson, Mississippi,
rific battle once waged in the Eyrie over the writes: "In the last installment of Beyond
question of whether the magazine should or the Black River, Conan said, in his conver¬
should not continue to print weird stories. sation with Balthus, that he had never been
Some even said that all tales even faintly a king. Is this correct? No. Mr. Howard’s
suggestive of gruesomeness should be elim¬ memory must be short, for I remember the
inated. Idiotic people, these fantastiacs! first Conan story, The Phoenix on the Sword.
Edmond Hamilton’s yarns of thundering In that, Conan was a king—the king of
Spheres and cosmic cataclysmic catastrophes Aquilonia. Also, in The Scarlet Citadel he
(oh boy!) have come in for their share of was a king—of Aquilonia. That flaw didn’t
constant belittlement. More than a few have ruin the story, though—it did not even mar
complained that serials were totally unneces¬ it; but Howard should be more careful.”
sary to the magazine’s existence. Probably [Mr. Howard has not lost his memory as to
the most lustily contested of all the verbal Conan’s kingship. In one of the stories
battles has been the one over Mrs. Brun- about this strange barbarian adventurer, Co¬
dage’s exquisite maidens who adorn the WT nan remarked that he had been king more
covers bedecked in naught but the modest than once, in several lands. In another story
flimsiness of lacy nothings and their blush¬ he said that he might be a king himself some
ing virginity—and sometimes obviously not day, as stranger things than that had hap¬
that. But it occurs to me that all this fling¬ pened to him. In the first Conan stories, he
ing of poison pen and haughty satirical de¬ was already a king. But these stories deal
nouncement of another’s beliefs is not so with a later period in Conan’s career than
important after all. Quite obviously the ma¬ do the later stories. Conan will be a king
jority of strongly prejudiced letters one finds again in The Hour of the Dragon, which we
in the discussion columns are written by ex¬ will publish soon.—The Editor.]
tremists. Only the fact that the ideas con¬
tained in them are extreme causes them to C. L. Moore’s Stories
be printed. The balanced mind is the average Jerry Laird, of Topeka, Kansas, writes: "I
fantasy fan who accepts the many good find your magazine highly entertaining, es¬
things which come his way and does not pecially those masterpieces of fantasy by C.
bother to pull down the moon over every L. Moore. His inimitable style and word pic¬
tiny mistake or case of poor judgment. I tures, combined with an unbounded imagina¬
think most of us hope to be this latter type tion, certainly put him in a class with Mer¬
of person. So take heart, editor—your de¬ ritt and Lovecraft. fulhi, in my opinion, sur¬
fenders are legion. WT continues to sat¬ passed anything else he has written, with the
isfy, only more so. I’ll say, however, that I exception, perhaps, of Shambleau.”
frankly did not like A. W. Bernal’s yarn.
The Man Who Was Two Men. I agree that Keep Weird Tales Weird
it was the most original and entertaining yarn Elaine Mclntire, of Malden, Massachu¬
about radio ever written: but so were the setts, writes: "For heaven’s sake, keep Weird
other stories from which it evolved. How¬ Tales weird!!! Keep those third-class de¬
ever, I do like Bernal’s work, and if the tectives out!!!! Weird Tales is the only
closing chapters of Satan in Exile axe as in¬ magazine of its kind. Keep it shivery. That
tensely exciting and dramatically good as the story, The Man Who Was Two Men, was
 WEIRD TALES

f the stories are good, and some are

ait. Ouinn’s charaaer of Tules de Gi

page. . . . nricon name s aeaui is a uisuuu

loss. His Trail of the Cloven Hoof is your

$1.10 a Copy
Veith Dali writes from Mexico City:
270 WEIRD TALES

gridge's Aunt. Weird Tales is the only agraph by Mr. M. E. Thomas, of Indianapolis,
magazine I consider worth buying of the which says: 'Smith is grand, too, if he’d only
type, and here in Mexico it is worth $1.10 get over the idea he’s an artist.’ Well, Mr.
each copy.” Thomas, Mr. Smith is an artist—with words.
I dare you, Mr. Thomas, to write a piece of
An Admirer of Lovecraft
description as lovely as Mr. Smith has in
Emil Petaja, of Milltown, Montana, writes: every one of his stories. Yes, I dare you!
"I have just completed reading two issues— In the same issue, Mr. Carl A. Butz, of Lan¬
the latest issues of WT, and should like to caster, Pennsylvania, Butz in with die state¬
express my opinions on them. One notices ment that he doubts if anyone over the men¬
so many readers in the Eyrie saying 'WT is tal age of twelve years reads interplanetary’
not what it used to be,’ etc., etc.; and I won¬ stories. Have you any authority to bade that
der if these readers realize that perhaps a statement, Mr. Butz? I doubt it. Some of
great deal of this change is in themselves, the most active WT fans are also science-
rather than in the magazine. But I do agree fiction fans. . . . Mr. Editor, please stop
with Mr. Paul Brown, in the April issue, referring to Jack Darrow of Chicago as 'good
who suggests a return of the clever little old Jack Darrow.’ In the May Eyrie I saw
pictures used formerly on the title and table the second recent example of this. Thank
of contents page—and of the use of less me¬ heaven for some nude-less covers!”
chanically bold and distinct illustrations. As
to the authors: Clark Ashton Smith remains Suggested Reprints
as ever—the poet of dreams whose tales Robert Tufts, of White Plains, New York,
waft one into far-off enchanted lands; Rob¬ writes: "I want to add my plea to those that
ert E. Howard is excellent—but why doesn’t you’ve already received urging that you re¬
he write some more stories like The Black print H. P. Lovecraft’s masterpiece, The
Stone? Searight’s poetry is fascinating. Picture in the House. This, to my mind, is
Howard Wandrei is fine, too. But why on one of the outstanding pieces of weird liter¬
earth (or in the universe, for that matter) ature of all time. Another story I think
don’t you get some new tales by the Prince would make a good reprint is In Amund¬
of Fantasy—that great classic weird writer sen’s Tent by John Martin Leahy. Concern¬
who will never be equaled—H. P. Lovecraft? ing the May issue, my choice for first place
When I recall The Strange High House in is Arthur fermyn by Lovecraft, This was fol¬
the Mist and The Outsider, I can’t help lowed by The Death Cry and The Flower-
wishing I could recall some of the great Women in the order named. I’ve just suc¬
thrills I felt in first perusing these master¬ ceeded in getting the point to the pen name
pieces. But I’m sure anything Lovecraft of the brothers Binder: i, e., Eando. Earl
wrote would be wonderful—ana most wel¬ and Otto Binder—E. and O. Binder—Eando
come! Why not try to get him to write a Binder. It seems that you’ve uncovered a
long story—something forceful and colossal real prodigy in young Mr. Bloch of Milwau¬
and magnificent; bringing to life eon-dead kee. The Feast in the Abbey was a fine tale,
civilizations brought to earth from the out¬ written in a powerful style. I can’t say so
side—with its setting perhaps—say in the much for The Secret in the Tomb, though.
Antarctic?” It seemed to me he strove too hard for a
weird effect. Yours for more Lovecraft.”
Dare and Double-Dare
Carl E. Woolard,. of Flint, Michigan, Fears for Our Future
writes: “The inspiration for this letter was J. Wasso, Jr., of Pen Argyl, Pennsylvania,
furnished by that lovely piece of verse in writes: “My previous letters on the subject
the May issue, Tea-Drinking. That poem of the Brundage cover nudes were disregard¬
alone was worth the price of the magazine, ed; therefore I’ll discuss the matter from a
not even mentioning the other good tilings different angle. I won’t condemn the recent
therein contained. The finest story in that undistinguished ordinary covers just because
issue was Clark Ashton Smith’s gem, The they supplant the exquisite Brundage pastels,
Flower-Women. Mr. Smith’s stories please but I ao think that, unless these cheap de¬
me as those of no other WT author can. By tective covers are discontinued, they will in
the way, in the Eyrie this month I see a par¬ time alter the editorial policy of Weird
 WEIRD TALES 271

Tales to such an extent that this unique

publication will deteriorate into just another
'dime-a-dozen' weird-scientific-detective mag¬ NEXT MONTH
azine, possessing no distinction, no personal¬
ity whatever. Sincere supporters of Weird
Tales view such a possibility with genuine
THE CARNIVAL OF
alarm. We can take no chances with our
Weird Tales—other magazines may come
DEATH
and go, but Weird Tales must go on for
ever.” [Cheer up, Mr. Wasso—next month’s
By Arlton Eadie
cover will contain an exquisite nude, drawn
►|<hb English author, Arlton Eadie,
in pastel crayons by Mrs. Brundage in her
most captivating style.—The Editor.] whose untimely death last March

Short Comments was a distinct loss to lovers of mystery

G. Mumford, of Plainfield, New Jersey, fiction on both sides of the Atlantic,

writes: "The Horror in the Studio is the best completed a weird mystery novel short¬
story of its kind I have ever read. I think
ly before his death—a novel packed
Dorothy Quick is a great addition to your
magazine.” full of eery intrigue, mysterious hap¬
William Chandos, of Hollywood, Cali¬ penings, and the ghostly antics of a
fornia, writes: "A few of your short stories
are really gems. For true nightmare weird¬ strange Egyptian and a Golden Mum¬
ness, Everett’s The Woman in Gray in the my that stalked through the night—a
last issue is immense. In the Triangle, by
Howard Wandrei, was mighty good.” novel that tells in vivid words the
Mickey McTavish, of Chicago, writes: story of an orgy of death that struck
"Being a constant reader of WT with 'furor
its victims hideously, in the darkness
scribendi,’ I am of the opinion that your
covers of April and May were 'ad nauseam’ of the night.
to say the least. Please let that 'artium mag-
ister’ M. Brundage draw your cover illustra¬ ► I < his thrilling weird novel, the last
tions in her former style.”
A. K. Ulber, of Brooklyn, writes: "As to flow from Mr. Eadie’s pen, will
far as the covers go, the only one I object now be published posthumously in this
to is that of the April issue—it was horrible.
magazine. It will begin
Tell Mrs. Brundage to keep her girls on the
cover.” m the September issue of
Joseph Robinsky, Jr., of Elizabeth, New
Jersey, writes: "If you must have detective
stories, please give us Jules de Grandin WEIRD TALES
tales; these are at least weird and strange on sale Septemberlst
and give credibility to the supernatural and
occult.” To avoid missing your copy, clip and mail this
Julius Hopkins, of Washington, D. C., coupon today for SPECIAL SUBSCRIPTION
writes: "In die June issue there is only one OFFER.
story I deem capable of measuring up to WEIRD TALES
WTs high standard and that story is Flap¬ 840 N. Michigan Ave.,
Chicago, HI.
ping Wings of Death by Amelia Reynolds Enclosed find $1.00 for which send me the next
Long. This tale holds its weird and uncanny five issues of WEIRD TALES to begin with the
October issue. (Special offer void unless remit¬
atmosphere throughout.” tance accompanied by coupon.)
Ruin?
Dolores F. Anaya, of San Diego, Califor¬ Address
nia, writes: "This is in protest. Why are
City-State.
you bent on ruining a wonderful magazine?
272 WEIRD TALES

Who in Sam Hill wants to read Reeves look¬ considered his best story to be Ligeia, which
ing for eery thrills? He belongs to the mur¬ you have already reprinted; but James Rus¬
der-mystery magazines, certainly not in a sell Lowell considered William Wilson to
magazine of the originality and high quality be Poe's highest achievement in prose. An
of Weird Tales. . . . Where is little Jules author is usually a poor judge of die relative
de Grandin? Where is Northwest Smith? merits of his own brain-children, and I think
From WT we want stories that make our that in this instance Lowell’s judgment was
hair rise, vampires, werewolves, creatures better than Poe’s. William Wilson is a
part plant and part witch, and such. One great psychological study of the progressive
story was as sleep-producing as another. . . . degeneration of a human soul, and that great
I’ve read the magazine for eleven years, but master of the weird story has written noth¬
if this May issue is what you are degenerat¬ ing finer. I wish you would reprint it. And
ing a fine old magazine into. I’m going to while I am about it, let me urge again that
quit. For gosh sakes, snap out of your Jjop! you reprint the first of the Jules de Gran¬
Murder-mysteries, interplanetary and ifefgnti- din stories, The Horror on the Links, which
fic stories are not weird, but they are very appeared in Weird Tales ’way back when.
boring Those who have not read this story before
Best He Has Ever Read will thus be given a literary treat; and those
of us who have already read the story will
Lathan Frayser, of Brazil, Indiana, writes:
be glad to read it again. Selah.”
"May I say that your magazine is the best
that I have ever read? Flapping Wings of
Most Popular Story
Death by Amelia Reynolds Long was my
favorite story in the June issue, and also the Readers, what is your favorite story in
reprint of The Cup of Blood by Otis Adel- this issue? And if there are any stories you
best Kline. I shall always be a customer of do not like, we want to know which ones,
your magazine. Keep the covers weird.” and why you dislike them. Write a letter to
the Eyrie, Weird Tales, or fill out the cou¬
William Wilson pon on this page and send it to us. Your
James J. O’Donnell, of New York City, favorite story in the June issue, as shown by
writes: "I have noticed stories by Edgar your votes and letters, was Dorothy Quick’s
Allan Poe in your Weird Story Reprint sec¬ strange story of Hollywood, The Horror in
tion from time to time, but so far you have the Studio. This story was closely pressed
failed to reprint his topnotch best story, Wil¬ for first place by Walker G. Everett’s short
liam Wilson. I am aware that Poe himself short. The Woman in Gray.

MY FAVORITE STORIES IN THE AUGUST WEIRD TALES ARE:

Story Remarks
(1)- -
(2)- -
(3)- -

I do not like the following stories:

(1) - Why?_

(2) - -

It will help us to know what kind of j Reader’s name and address:

stories you want in Weird Tales if you •
will fill out this coupon and mail it to |
The Eyrie, Weird Tales, 840 N. Michigan I
Ave., Chicago, Ill. |
W. T.—8
The Phantom
of the Ether
•
T he first warning of the stupen¬
dous cataclysm that befell the
earth' in the fourth decade of the
Twentieth Century was recorded
simultaneously in several parts of
America. At twelve minutes past 3
o’clock a. m., during a lull in the
night’s aerial business, several of
the larger stations of the Western
hemisphere began picking up

TheygwereS faint and ghostly, as if

Coming from a vast distance. As
far as anyone could learn, the sig¬
nals originated nowhere upon the
earth. It was as if some phantom
were whispering through the eth'er
in the language of another planet.

FREE BOOK
W E HAVE had many requests asking
us to reprint THE MOON TER¬
TALES are giving this book away with
each six months’ subscription to the maga¬
ROR in the magazine. This popular story zine. Simply send $1.50, the regular six
appeared as a serial in WEIRD TALES in months’ subscription price for WEIRD
1923, and is too long to republish in the TALES, and this book will be sent to you
magazine consistent with our policy. To without further cost. Limited supply, send
fulfill the wishes of many readers who have today!
not had the opportunity to read this story,
we have had it printed in book, form and
offer a copy free with each six months’
subscription to WEIRD TALES.

A Valuable Gift
This book is beautifully bound in rich
cloth, with an attractive colored jacket. It
will make an excellent gift to a friend or a
valuable addition to your own library. For
a limited time, the Publishers of WEIRD