Page:Weird Tales Volume 12 Issue 06 (1928-12).djvu/103

 remembrance of the opal that had lost its fire and the chrysanthemum that had been withered by the touch of her lips assailed him. What would happen to him if he took her into his arms? He was careful in all their moments together never to even touch her hand. He avoided her as though she had been a cauldron of molten metal.

He was permitted to wander practically at will throughout the house, though once as he entered the library there happened that which reawakened all his fears. The room was of enormous size and there were thousands upon thousands of volumes upon the shelves. He browsed around, examining a volume here and there as whim directed. The volumes were all musty and worn as though they had weathered the vicissitudes of ages. Li Kan was a connoisseur where fine books were concerned, and he became so deeply absorbed in the choice volumes that he forgot momentarily that he was virtually a prisoner in this peculiar house, a house in which he never saw a soul but the strange woman and yet where every bit of work was done as though it were cared for by a dozen servants. The meals were always laid in one of the rooms when they entered. All the viands and dishes were ready on the table. When the repast was over they left the room. It was as though spirits of some forgotten world were servants in that house. Once in the night as he slept Li Kan had distinctly felt cold, bony fingers on his forehead. He shrieked wildly and sprang from his couch. When the lamps were lighted there was no one in the room. But it could not have been imagination, for there were other nights when he felt the bony fingers, and on one particular occasion they fastened upon his throat like talons and dragged him to the floor. He had fought like a fury, choking, gasping. Cold perspiration cloyed his brow. His temples were bursting, his eyeballs bulging from their sockets. In the end he succeeded in beating off the fingers that were striving so indefatigably to destroy him. So far his own will was stronger than that of the mind beyond those bony fingers. What would happen when weakness overcame him, he dreaded to think.

But now all these things were forgotten as Li Kan passed his hands reverently over the volumes. Presently he drew from its place one that was yellow with age. The dust was thick upon it. He turned to the title page and read:

Li Kan was interrupted in his musings by a frightful shriek. The room was plunged into utter darkness. The shrieks continued. The intensity was frightful. Li Kan could feel bony fingers crawling over his face. His own hands shot up spasmodically, caught the crawling fingers and held. Then mercilessly, pitilessly he bent them back, bent them back until the cold, bare bones cracked. The shrieks were diabolical but his ears were deadened. Then came a flash, a flash as vivid as though the very sun had burst. The thread that held the two-edged sword snapped. It fell down upon him, carrying him down, down, down into an endless pit of unconsciousness.

he again opened his eyes he was lying, a crushed figure, by the side of the road, the road upon which he had been journeying when he turned off to enter the