Page:Doughty--Mirrikh or A woman from Mars.djvu/86

 “And you—did you hear that music, or was it an aural illusion?” I retorted.

“Gad! But we all heard that.”

“Account for it.”

“I can’t!”

“Then in heaven’s name don’t talk to me of optical illusions, when—” The words fairly froze upon my lips. I stood staring at the shawl which Maurice had hung before the door, a prey to sensations which simply beggar description. Maurice’s back was turned, and so was the Doctor’s, thus they saw nothing, and, so far as the latter was concerned, it was just as well. But I saw a head come through that shawl—Mirrikh’s head, with the face uncovered—I  swear I saw it—it is useless for me to attempt to unpersuade myself, though I have tried it again and again.

Not through any rent or opening in the shawl. Oh, no! Not that! It seemed to pass directly through the fabric itself as if the cohesive attraction of each particle were for the instant destroyed, not assuming its full form until at least three seconds had elapsed. First I saw the forehead, the parti-colored face and the hair form on the inside of the shawl. Then the eyes fitted themselves below the brow, and the nose and mouth appeared, last coming that black and beardless chin, and then I beheld the entire head in perfect outline floating in the air.

Dumb with amazement I neither moved nor spoke.

Now I saw the shadowy outline of a body beneath the head, and suddenly a detached hand appeared, then the other hand, then the legs, and then

“What’s the matter, George! What is it, old fellow? For heaven sake speak to me,” I could hear Maurice saying.

I had fainted!

I lay upon the stone floor beside the fire with Maurice bending over me on one side and Philpot on the other. They were chafing my hands, Maurice’s face expressing the deepest concern.

I tried to answer—tried to pull myself together, and I did it—did it in spite of another shock, for, raising my eyes I saw Mr. Mirrikh standing near the fire fumbling in a  pocket medicine case. Mirrikh in full form and not chopped up like a Chinese puzzle. It was the man I had met at Panompin; the man I had seen on the tower of the