Genre Horror. Page - 7

w seemed ridiculously dim by contrast with the tremendous blaze of the flash-power.... And then, as I stooped forward, staring and listening, there came the crashing thud of the door of the Grey Room. The sound seemed to fill the whole of the large corridor, and go echoing hollowly through the house. I tell you, I felt horrible--as if my bones were water. Simply beastly. Jove! how I did stare, and how I listened. And then it came again--thud, thud, thud, and then a silence that was almost worse

their own business; every moment the strain on the nerves increased.Out of the gloomy dining-room they passed through large folding doors into a sort of library or smoking-room, wrapt equally in silence, darkness, and dust; and from this they regained the hall near the top of the back stairs. Here a pitch black tunnel opened before them into the lower regions, and--it must be confessed--they hesitated. But only for a minute. With the worst of the night still to come it was essential to turn

I had been taught, all my courage, not to collapse in a paroxysm of fright.And now a perfect tornado burst upon me. The ground shook as though thousands of horses thundered across it; and this time the storm bore on its icy wings, not snow, but great hailstones which drove with such violence that they might have come from the thongs of Balearic slingers--hailstones that beat down leaf and branch and made the shelter of the cypresses of no more avail than though their stems were standing-corn.

ght for it; and so we waited. I had, I felt, gained an advantage in the last few seconds, for I knew my danger and understood the situation. Now, I thought, is the test of my courage-the enduring test: the fighting test may come later!The old woman raised her head and said to me in a satisfied kind of way: "A very fine ring, indeed-a beautiful ring! Oh, me! I once had such rings, plenty of them, and bracelets and earrings! Oh! for in those fine days I led the town a dance! But they've

exactly as it stands, beginning at page three of theblood-soaked note-book:"Nevertheless, when I dined at Rheims with Coselli and GustavRaymond I found that neither of them was aware of any particulardanger in the higher layers of the atmosphere. I did not actuallysay what was in my thoughts, but I got so near to it that if theyhad any corresponding idea they could not have failed to expressit. But then they are two empty, vainglorious fellows with nothought beyond seeing their silly names

thegreater part of their rent, which had been paid in advance. Theevidence of Mr. H---- himself, of his butler, and of several guests,will be found in due chronological sequence.* * * * * When Colonel Taylor, one of the fundamental members of the LondonSpiritualist Alliance, a distinguished member of the S.P.R., whosename is associated both in this country and in America with theinvestigation of haunted houses, offered to take a lease of B----House, after the lease had been resigned by Mr.

ren't made for human beings, and their size bothered us. Anyway, it was devilish heavy. We had to have the Americans down to get It out. They weren't anxious to go into the place, but of course the worst thing was safely inside the box. We told them it was a batch of ivory carving--archeological stuff; and after seeing the carved throne they probably believed us. It's a wonder they didn't suspect hidden treasure and demand a share. They must have told queer tales around Nome later on; though I

interpreted dreams, and the gods have laughed. One man with Oriental eyes has said that all time and space are relative, and men have laughed. But even that man with Oriental eyes has done no more than suspect. I had wished and tried to do more than suspect, and my friend had tried and partly succeeded. Then we both tried together, and with exotic drugs courted terrible and forbidden dreams in the tower studio chamber of the old manor-house in hoary Kent.Among the agonies of these after days is

The Willows by Algernon Blackwood The Shadows On The Wall by Mary E. Wilkins Freeman The Messenger by Robert W. Chambers Lazarus by Leonid Andreyev The Beast With Five Fingers by W. F. Harvey The Mass Of Shadows by Anatole France What Was It? by Fitz-James O'Brien The Middle Toe Of The Right Foot by Ambrose Bierce The Shell Of Sense by Olivia Howard Dunbar The Woman At Seven Brothers by Wilbur Daniel Steele At The Gate by Myla Jo Closser Ligeia by Edgar Allan Poe The Haunted Orchard by Richard

lower part of which had been used for stables and carriage house, and the upper portion as quarters for the house slaves, in the old days. Another smaller building, slate-roofed and ivy covered, was the spring-house, with a clear, cold little spring still bubbling away as merrily in its granite basin, as if all the Hyndses were not dead and gone. And there was a deep well, protected by a round stone wall, with a cupola-like roof supported by four slender pillars. And everything was dank and