living. I — "
"Show me!" Doctor Jerome commanded.
"You will not be impressed," Barsac insisted. 'They are only rats and you may not even notice — "
"Show me!"
"Then, look."
Barsac stepped aside and Doctor Jerome gazed down at the jars. The bodies of twenty rats floated in the preserving fluid. Jerome stared. They were rats and only rats — their dead gray bodies were unchanged. Barsac was mad, quite mad.
And then Doctor Jerome saw it. He stared at one rat and saw the left forepaw that was not a forepaw — but a tiny hand!
He stared at the other rats in the other jars and saw that each left forepaw was alike. Each forepaw was like a human hand — like the left hand of Sebastian Barsac on which the thumb was missing !
Something was climbing the ivy outside the castle walls. Something was peering through the castle window — peering with little red-rimmed eyes that held a light of gleeful and atrocious floating. Something chuckled as it scrambled through the open window and dropped to the floor of the castle bedroom on tiny paws; paws that scraped and padded as they advanced toward the great bed.
Suddenly Jerome felt it crawling up the counterpane. He writhed and twisted, striking out with his hands to dislodge it; but the creature crawled upward, and now he could hear it chuckling in a voice that was a shrill mockery of human laughter.
Then its head rose on a level with Jeromes eyes, and he saw it — saw the furry figure, the monkeylike body and the mannikin-head of a witch's familiar — saw and recognized the hideous little monster for what it was . . . an animal, but with Barsac's face!
He screamed, then, and knew without any further indication that the creature was not alone.
The room was full of them. They were crawling out of the shadows in the corners, they were creeping along the paneling of the walls; they crowded through the door and slithered through rat holes in the worm-riddled flooring.
They were all about him now, chattering and squealing as they climbed toward him.
Then through the door came the man-sized figures; the man-sized figures with the shaggy bodies and flaming eyes and the acrid scent of the werewolf seeping forth from between their carrion fangs. And beneath their shaggy bodies was the flesh and form of Barsac, and within their flaming eyes was the laughing gaze of Barsac, and Jerome recognized them for what they were and screamed again.
But screaming did not stop them. Nothing stopped them as the mannikin-horde and the wolf-horde flowed in a furry flood toward his writhing body on the bed. He felt the touch of their horrid paws everywhere, tensed himself for the moment when he would feel their claws, their jaws —
A shriek wrenched from his throat as Jerome sat bolt upright in the bed.
Moonlight streamed tranquilly through the castle window, and its bright pattern was etched upon a bare floor and unshadowed walls.
The creatures were gone. They had never existed, save in his own disordered dreams.
Doctor Jerome sighed and dropped back as the hot perspiration trickled down into his eyes. He drifted off to sleep again.
It seemed to him as though the oaken door opened as he slept, and Barsac crept into the room. The little fat man was smiling a secret smile as he advanced on the bed. In his arms he held a rabbit — a white rabbit. He stroked the furry head until the ears lay flat and the pink-rimmed eyes were open and alert. Then Barsac's eyes opened and he gazed on Jerome and he fixed Jerome's gaze with unshakable intensity. Barsac's bulging eyes held a command and a ghastly promise, and Jerome could not turn away. Barsac's very being seemed concentrated in his eyes, and as he stared, Jerome felt his own being rise to meet that ghastly gaze.
He felt himself flowing out . . . out . . . and somehow he knew that he was no longer staring at Barsac but at the white rabbit. The white rabbit was absorbing his personality through the hypnotic stare.
Jerome felt weak, giddy. His
"Show me!" Doctor Jerome commanded.
"You will not be impressed," Barsac insisted. 'They are only rats and you may not even notice — "
"Show me!"
"Then, look."
Barsac stepped aside and Doctor Jerome gazed down at the jars. The bodies of twenty rats floated in the preserving fluid. Jerome stared. They were rats and only rats — their dead gray bodies were unchanged. Barsac was mad, quite mad.
And then Doctor Jerome saw it. He stared at one rat and saw the left forepaw that was not a forepaw — but a tiny hand!
He stared at the other rats in the other jars and saw that each left forepaw was alike. Each forepaw was like a human hand — like the left hand of Sebastian Barsac on which the thumb was missing !
Something was climbing the ivy outside the castle walls. Something was peering through the castle window — peering with little red-rimmed eyes that held a light of gleeful and atrocious floating. Something chuckled as it scrambled through the open window and dropped to the floor of the castle bedroom on tiny paws; paws that scraped and padded as they advanced toward the great bed.
Suddenly Jerome felt it crawling up the counterpane. He writhed and twisted, striking out with his hands to dislodge it; but the creature crawled upward, and now he could hear it chuckling in a voice that was a shrill mockery of human laughter.
Then its head rose on a level with Jeromes eyes, and he saw it — saw the furry figure, the monkeylike body and the mannikin-head of a witch's familiar — saw and recognized the hideous little monster for what it was . . . an animal, but with Barsac's face!
He screamed, then, and knew without any further indication that the creature was not alone.
The room was full of them. They were crawling out of the shadows in the corners, they were creeping along the paneling of the walls; they crowded through the door and slithered through rat holes in the worm-riddled flooring.
They were all about him now, chattering and squealing as they climbed toward him.
Then through the door came the man-sized figures; the man-sized figures with the shaggy bodies and flaming eyes and the acrid scent of the werewolf seeping forth from between their carrion fangs. And beneath their shaggy bodies was the flesh and form of Barsac, and within their flaming eyes was the laughing gaze of Barsac, and Jerome recognized them for what they were and screamed again.
But screaming did not stop them. Nothing stopped them as the mannikin-horde and the wolf-horde flowed in a furry flood toward his writhing body on the bed. He felt the touch of their horrid paws everywhere, tensed himself for the moment when he would feel their claws, their jaws —
A shriek wrenched from his throat as Jerome sat bolt upright in the bed.
Moonlight streamed tranquilly through the castle window, and its bright pattern was etched upon a bare floor and unshadowed walls.
The creatures were gone. They had never existed, save in his own disordered dreams.
Doctor Jerome sighed and dropped back as the hot perspiration trickled down into his eyes. He drifted off to sleep again.
It seemed to him as though the oaken door opened as he slept, and Barsac crept into the room. The little fat man was smiling a secret smile as he advanced on the bed. In his arms he held a rabbit — a white rabbit. He stroked the furry head until the ears lay flat and the pink-rimmed eyes were open and alert. Then Barsac's eyes opened and he gazed on Jerome and he fixed Jerome's gaze with unshakable intensity. Barsac's bulging eyes held a command and a ghastly promise, and Jerome could not turn away. Barsac's very being seemed concentrated in his eyes, and as he stared, Jerome felt his own being rise to meet that ghastly gaze.
He felt himself flowing out . . . out . . . and somehow he knew that he was no longer staring at Barsac but at the white rabbit. The white rabbit was absorbing his personality through the hypnotic stare.
Jerome felt weak, giddy. His
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