Astounding Stories of Super-Science April 1930

by Anthony Pelcher

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  ASTOUNDING STORIES OF SUPER-SCIENCE

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  VOL. II, No. 1 CONTENTS APRIL, 1930

  COVER DESIGN H. W. WESSOLOWSKI

  _Painted in Water-colors from a Scene in "Monsters of Moyen."_

  THE MAN WHO WAS DEAD THOMAS H. KNIGHT 9

  _As Jerry's Eyes Fell on the Creature's Head, He Shuddered--for the Face Was Nothing but Bone, with Dull-brown Skin Stretched Taut over It. A Skeleton That Was Alive!_

  MONSTERS OF MOYEN ARTHUR J. BURKS 18

  _"The Western World Shall be Next!" Was the Dread Ultimatum of the Half-monster, Half-god Moyen._

  VAMPIRES OF VENUS ANTHONY PELCHER 47

  _Leslie Larner, an Entomologist Borrowed from the Earth, Pits Himself Against the Night-flying Vampires That Are Ravaging the Inhabitants of Venus._

  BRIGANDS OF THE MOON RAY CUMMINGS 60

  _Out of Awful Space Tumbled the Space-ship Planetara Towards the Moon, Her Officers Dead, With Bandits at Her Helm--and the Controls Out of Order!_

  THE SOUL SNATCHER TOM CURRY 101

  _From Twenty Miles Away Stabbed the "Atom-filtering" Rays to Allen Baker in His Cell in the Death House._

  THE RAY OF MADNESS CAPTAIN S. P. MEEK 112

  _Dr. Bird Uncovers a Dastardly Plot, Amazing in its Mechanical Ingenuity, Behind the Apparently Trivial Eye Trouble of the President._

  THE READERS' CORNER ALL OF US 127

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  The Man Who Was Dead

  _By Thomas H. Knight_

  "_I was dead._"]

  As Jerry's eyes fell on the creature's head, he shuddered--for the face was nothing but bone, with dull-brown skin stretched taut over it. A skeleton that was alive!

  It was a wicked night, the night I met the man who had died. A bitter,heart-numbing night of weird, shrieking wind and flying snow. A fewblack hours I will never forget.

  "Well, Jerry, lad!" my mother said to me as I pushed back from the tableand started for my sheepskin coat and the lantern in the corner of theroom. "Surely you're not going out a night like this? Goodness gracious,Jerry, it's not fit!"

  "Can't help it, Mother," I replied. "Got to go. You've never seen memiss a Saturday night yet, have you now?"

  "No. But then I've never seen a night like this for years either. Jerry,I'm really afraid. You may freeze before you even get as far as--"

  "Ah, come now, Mother," I argued. "They'd guy me to death if I didn'tsit in with the gang to-night. They'd chaff me because it was too coldfor me to get out. But I'm no pampered sissy, you know, and I want tosee--"

  "Yes," she retorted bitingly, "I know. You want to go and bask in thatelegant company. Our stove's just as good as the one down at that dirtyold store," continued my persistent and anxious parent, "and it'scertainly not very flattering to think that you leave us on a night likethis to--Who'll be there, anyway?"

  "Oh, the usual five or six I suppose," I answered as I adjusted the wickof my lantern, hearing as I did the snarl and cut of the wind throughthe evergreens in the yard.

  "That black-whiskered sphinx, Hammersly, will he be there?"

  "Yes, he'll be there, I'm pretty sure."

  "Hm-m!" she exclaimed, her expression now carrying all the contempt formy judgment and taste she intended it should. "Button your coat up goodaround your neck, then, if you must go to see your precious Hammerslyand the rest of them. Have you ever heard that man say anything yet?Does he speak at all, Jerry?" Then her gentle mind, not at allaccustomed to hard thoughts or contemptuous remarks, quickly changed."Funny thing about that fellow," she mused. "He's got something on hismind. Don't you think so, Jerry?"

  "Y-es, yes I do. And I've often wondered what it could be. Hecertainly's a queer stick. Got to admit that. Always brooding. Goodfellow all right, and, for a 'sphinx' as you call him, likable. But Iwonder what is eating him?"

  "What do you suppose it could be, Jerry boy?" questioned Motherfollowing me to the door, the woman of her now completely forgetting herrecent criticisms and, perhaps, the rough night her son was about tostep into. "Do you suppose the poor chap has a--a--broken heart, orsomething like that? A girl somewhere who jilted him? Or maybe he lovessomeone he has no right to!" she finished excitedly, the plates in herhand rattling.

  "Maybe it's worse than that," I ventured. "P'r'aps--I've no right to sayit--but p'r'aps, and I've often thought it, there's a killing he wantsto forget, and can't!"

  * * * * *

  I heard my mother's sharp little "Oh!" as I shut the door behind me andthe warmth and comfort of the room away. Outside it was worse than thewhistle of the wind through the trees had led me to expect. Black aspitch it was, and as cold as blazes. For the first moment or two,though, I liked the feel of the challenge of the night and the racingelements, was even a little glad I had added to the dare of theblackness the thought of Hammersly and his "killing." But I had not gonefar before I was wishing I did not have to save my face by putting in anappearance at the store that night.

  Every Saturday night, with the cows comfortable in their warm barn, andmy own supper over, I was in the habit of taking my place on the keg orbox behind the red-hot stove in Pruett's store. To-night all the snowwas being hurled clear of the fields to block the roads full between theold, zigzag fences. The wind met me in great pushing gusts, and while itflung itself at me I would hang against it, snow to my knees, until theblow had gone along, when I could plunge forward again. I was glad whenI saw the lights of the store, glad when I was inside.

  They met me with mock applause for my pluck in facing the night, but forall their sham flattery I was pleased I had come, proud, I must admit,that I had been able to plough my heavy way through the drifts to reach
them. I saw at a glance that my friends were all there, and I saw toothat there was a strange man present.

  * * * * *

  A very tall man he was, gaunt and awkward as he leaned into the angle ofthe two counters, his back to a dusty show-case. He attracted myattention at once. Not merely because he appeared so long and pointedand skinny, but because, of all ridiculous things in that frozencountry, he wore a hard derby hat! If he had not been such a queercharacter it would have been laughable, but as it was it was--creepy.For the man beneath that hard hat was about as queer a looking characteras I have ever seen. I supposed he was a visitor at the store, or afriend of one of my friends, and that in a little while I would beintroduced. But I was not.

  I took my place in behind the stove, feeling at once, though I am farfrom being unsociable usually, that the man was an intruder and wouldspoil the evening. But despite his cold, dampening presence we were soonat it, hammer and tongs, discussing the things that are discussed behindhospitable stoves in country stores on bad nights. But I could neverlose sight of the fact that the stranger standing there, silent as thegrave, was, to say the least, a queer one. Before long I was sure he wasno friend or guest of anyone there, and that he not only cast a pallover me but over all of us. I did not like it, nor did I like him.Perhaps it would have been just as well after all, I thought, had Iheeded my mother and stayed home.

  Jed Counsell was the one who, innocently enough, started the thing thatchanged the evening, that had begun so badly, into a nightmare.

  "Jerry," he said, leaning across to me, "thinkin' of you s'afternoon.Readin' an article about reincarnation. Remember we were arguin' it lastweek? Well, this guy, whoever he was I've forgot, believes in it. Saysit's so. That people _do_ come back." With this opening shot Jed satback to await my answer. I liked these arguments and I liked to bear myshare in them, but now, instead of immediately answering the challenge,I looked around to see if any other of our circle were going to answerJed. Then, deciding it was up to me, I shrugged off the strange feelingthe man in the corner had cast over me, and prepared to view myopinions.

  "That's just that fellow's belief, Jed," I said. "And just as he's gothis so have I mine. And on this subject at least I claim my opinion isas good as anybody's." I was just getting nicely started, and a littleforgetting my distaste for the man in the corner, when the fellowhimself interrupted. He left his leaning place, and came creaking acrossthe floor to our circle around the store. I say he came "creaking" foras he came he did creak. "Shoes," I naturally, almost unconsciouslydecided, though the crazy notion was in my mind that the cracking Iheard did sound like bones and joints and sinews badly in need of oil.The stranger sat his groaning self down among us, on a board lyingacross a nail keg and an old chair. Only from the corner of my eye did Isee his movement, being friendly enough, despite my dislike, not toallow too marked notice of his attempt to be sociable seem inhospitableon my part. I was about to start again with my argument when SethSpears, sitting closest to the newcomer, deliberately got up from thebench and went to the counter, telling Pruett as he went that he had tohave some sugar. It was all a farce, a pretext, I knew. I've known Sethfor years and had never known him before to take upon himself the buyingfor his wife's kitchen. Seth simply would not sit beside the man.

  * * * * *

  At that I could keep my eyes from the stranger no longer, and the nextmoment I felt my heart turn over within me, then lie still. I have seen"walking skeletons" in circuses, but never such a man as the one who wasthen sitting at my right hand. Those side-show men were just lean incomparison to the fellow who had invaded our Saturday night club. Histhighs and his legs and his knees, sticking sharply into his trousers,looked like pieces of inch board. His shoulders and his chest seemed asflat and as sharp as his legs. The sight of the man shocked me. I sprangto my feet thoroughly frightened. I could not see much of his face,sitting there in the dark as he was with his back to the yellow light,but I could make out enough of it to know that it was in keeping withthe rest of him.

  In a moment or two, realizing my childishness, I had fought down my fearand, pretending that a scorching of my leg had caused my hurriedmovement, I sat down again. None of the others said a word, each waitingfor me to continue and to break the embarrassing silence. Hammersly,black-whiskered, the "sphinx" as my mother had called him, watched meclosely. Hating myself not a little bit for actually being the sissy Ihad boasted I was not, I spoke hurriedly, loudly, to cover my confusion.

  "No sir, Jed!" I said, taking up my argument. "When a man's dead, he'sdead! There's no bringing him back like that highbrow claimed. The oldheart may be only hitting about once in every hundred times, and if theycatch it right at the last stroke they may bring it back then, but onceshe's stopped, Jed, she's stopped for good. Once the pulse has gone, andlife has flickered out, it's out. And it doesn't come back in any format all, not in this world!"

  I was glad when I had said it, thereby asserting myself and downing myfoolish fear of the man whose eyes I felt burning into me. I did notturn to look at him but all the while I felt his gimlety eyes digginginto my brain.

  Then he spoke. And though he sat right next to me his voice sounded likea moan from afar off. It was the first time we had heard this thing thatonce may have been a voice and that now sounded like a groan from aclosely nailed coffin. He reached a hand toward my knee to enforce hiswords, but I jerked away.

  "So you don't believe a man can come back from the grave, eh?" hegrated. "Believe that once a man's heart is stilled it's stopped forgood, eh? Well, you're all wrong, sonny. All wrong! You believe thesethings. I _know_ them!"

  * * * * *

  His interference, his condescension, his whole hatefulness angered me. Icould now no longer control my feeling. "Oh! You _know_, do you?" Isneered. "On such a subject as this you're entitled to _know_, are you?Don't make me laugh!" I finished insultingly. I was aroused. And I'm abig fellow, with no reason to fear ordinary men.

  "Yes, I know!" came back his echoing, scratching voice.

  "How do you know? Maybe you've been--?"

  "Yes, I have!" he answered, his voice breaking to a squeak. "Take a goodlook at me, gentlemen. A good look." He knew now that he held the centerof the stage, that the moment was his. Slowly he raised an arm to removethat ridiculous hat. Again I jumped to my feet. For as his coat sleeveslipped down his forearm I saw nothing but bone supporting his hand. Andthe hand that then bared his head was a skeleton hand! Slowly the hatwas lifted, but as quickly as light six able-bodied men were on theirfeet and half way to the door before we realized the cowardliness of it.We forced ourselves back inside the store very slowly, all of us ratherashamed of our ridiculous and childlike fear.

  But it was all enough to make the blood curdle, with that live, deadthing sitting there by our fire. His face and skull were nothing butbone, the eyes deeply sunk into their sockets, the dull-brown skin likeparchment in its tautness, drawn and shriveled down onto the nose andjaw. There were no cheeks. Just hollows. The mouth was a sharp slitbeneath the flat nose. He was hideous.

  "Come back and I'll tell you my yarn," he mocked, the slit that was hismouth opening a little to show us the empty, blackened gums. "I've beendead once," he went on, getting a lot of satisfaction from the weirdnessof the lie and from our fear, "and _I_ came back. Come and sit down andI'll explain why I'm this living skeleton."

  * * * * *

  We came back slowly, and as I did I slipped my hand into my outsidepocket where I had a revolver. I put my finger in on the trigger and gotready to use the vicious little thing. I was on edge and torn to piecescompletely by the sight of the man, and I doubt not that had he made amove towards me my frayed nerves would have plugged him full of lead. Ieyed my friends. They were in no better way than was I. Fright andhorror stood on each face. Hammersly was worst. His hands weretwitching, his eyes were like bright glass, his face bleached and drawn.


  "I've quite a yarn to tell," went on the skeleton in his awful voice."I've had quite a life. A full life. I've taken my fun and my pleasurewherever I could. Maybe you'll call me selfish and greedy, but I alwaysused to believe that a man only passed this way once. Just like youbelieve," he nodded to me, his neck muscles and jaws creaking. "Sixyears ago I came up into this country and got a job on a farm," he wenton, settling into his story. "Just an ordinary job. But I liked itbecause the farmer had a pretty little daughter of about sixteen orseventeen and as easy as could be. You may not believe it, but you canstill find dames green enough to fall for the right story.

  "This one did. I told her I was only out there for a time for my health.That I was rich back in the city, with a fine home and everything. Shebelieved me. Little fool!" He chuckled as he said it, and my anger,mounting with his every devilish word, made the finger on the trigger inmy pocket take a tighter crook to itself. "I asked her to skip with me,"the droning went on, "made her a lot of great promises, and she fell forit." His dry jaw bones clanked and chattered as if he enjoyed thebeastly recital of his achievement, while we sat gaping at him,believing either that the man must be mad, or that we were the mad ones,or dreaming.

  "We slipped away one night," continued the beast. "Went to the city. Toa punk hotel. For three weeks we stayed there. Then one morning I toldher I was going out for a shave. I was. I got the shave. But I hadn'tthought it worth while to tell her I wouldn't be back. Well, she gotback to the farm some way, though I don't know--"

  * * * * *

  "What!" I shouted, springing before him. "What! You mean you left herthere! After you'd taken her, you left her! And here you sit crowingover it! Gloating! Boasting! Why you--!" I lived in a rough country.Associated with rough men, heard their vicious language, but seldom useda strong word myself. But as I stood over that monster, utterly hatingthe beastly thing, all the vile oaths and prickly language of thecountryside, no doubt buried in some unused cell in my brain, spilledfrom my tongue upon him. When I had lashed him as fiercely as I was ableI cried: "Why don't you come at me? Didn't you hear what I called you?You beast! I'd like to riddle you!" I shouted, drawing my gun.

  "Aw, sit down!" he jeered, waving his rattling hand at me. "You ain'theard a thing yet. Let me finish. Well, she got back to the farm someway or another, and something over a year later I wandered into thiscountry again too. I never could explain just why I came back. It wasnot altogether to see the girl. Her father was a little bit of a man andI began to remember what a meek and weak sheep he was. I got it into myhead that it'd be fun to go back to his farm and rub it in. So I came.

  "Her father was trying out a new corn planter right at the back doorwhen I rounded the house and walked towards him. Then I saw, at once,that I had made a mistake. When he put his eyes on me his face wentwhite and hard. He came down from the seat of that machine like a flash,and took hurried steps in the direction of a doublebarrelled gunleaning against the woodshed. They always were troubled with hawks andkept a gun handy. But there was an ax nearer to me than the gun was tohim. I had to work fast but I made it all right. I grabbed that ax,jumped at him as he reached for the gun, and swung--once. His wife, andthe girl too, saw it. Then I turned and ran."

  * * * * *

  The gaunt brute before us slowly crossed one groaning knee above theother. We were all sitting again now. The perspiration rolled down myface. I held my gun trained upon him, and, though I now believed he wastotally mad, because of a certain ring of truth in that empty voice, Isat fascinated. I looked at Seth. His jaw was hanging loose, his eyesbulging. Hammersly's mouth was set in a tight clenched line, his eyeslike fire in his blue, drawn face. I could not see the others.

  "The telephone caught me," continued our ghastly story-teller, "and inno time at all I was convicted and the date set for the hanging. When mytime was pretty close a doctor or scientist fellow came to see me whosaid, 'Blaggett, you're slated to die. How much will you sell me yourbody for?' If he didn't say it that way he meant just that. And I said,'Nothing. I've no one to leave money to. What do you want with my body?'And he told me, 'I believe I can bring you back to life and health,provided they don't snap your neck when they drop you.' 'Oh, you're oneof _those_ guys, are you?' I said then. 'All right, hop to it. If youcan do it I'll be much obliged. Then I can go back on that farm and do alittle more ax swinging!'" Again came his horrible chuckle, again Imopped my brow.

  "So we made our plans," he went on, pleased with our discomfiture andour despising of him. "Next day some chap came to see me, pretending hewas my brother. And I carried out my part of it by cursing him at firstand then begging him to give me decent burial. So he went away, and, Isuppose, received permission to get me right after I was cut down.

  "There was a fence built around the scaffold they had ready for me andthe party I was about to fling, and they had some militia there, too.The crowd seemed quiet enough till they led me out. Then their buzzingsounded like a hive of bees getting all stirred up. Then a few loudvoices, then shouts. Some rocks came flying at me after that, and itlooked to me as though the hanging would not be so gentle a party afterall. I tell you I was afraid. I wished it was over.

  * * * * *

  "The mob pushed against the fence and flattened it out, coming over itlike waves over a beach. The soldiers fired into the air, but still theycame, and I, I ran--up, onto the scaffold. It was safer!" As he saidthis he chuckled loudly. "I'll bet," he laughed, "that's the first timea guy ever ran into the noose for the safety of it! The mob came only tothe foot of the scaffold though, from where they seemed satisfied to seethe law take its course. The sheriff was nervous. So cut up that he onlymade a fling at tying my ankles, just dropped a rope around my wrists.He was like me, he wanted to get it over, and the crowd on its way. Thenhe put the rope around my neck, stepped back and shot the trap. Zamm! Notime for a prayer--or for me to laugh at the offer!--or a last word oranything.

  "I felt the floor give, felt myself shoot through. Smack! My weight onthe end of the rope hit me behind the ears like a mallet. Everythingwent black. Of course it would have been just my luck to get a brokenneck out of it and give the scientist no chance to revive me. But aftera second or two, or a minute, or it could have been an hour, theblackness went away enough to allow me to know I was hanging on the endof the rope, kicking, fighting, choking to death. My tongue swelled, myface and head and heart and body seemed ready to burst. Slowly I wentinto a deep mist that I knew then was _the_ mist, then--then--I was offfloating in the air over the heads of the crowd, watching my ownhanging!

  "I saw them give that slowly swinging carcass on the end of its ropetime enough to thoroughly die, then, from my aerial, unseen watchingplace, I saw them cut it--me--down. They tried the pulse of the bodythat had been mine, they examined my staring eyes. Then I heard thempronounce me dead. The fools! I had known I was dead for a minute or twoby that time, else how could my spirit have been gone from the shell andbe out floating around over their heads?"

  * * * * *

  He paused here as he asked his question, his head turning on its dry andcreaking neck to include us all in his query. But none of us spoke. Wewere dreaming it all, of course, or were mad, we thought.

  "In just a short while," went on the skeleton, "my 'brother' camedriving slowly in for my body. With no special hurry he loaded me ontohis little truck and drove easily away. But once clear of the crowd hepushed his foot down on the gas and in five more minutes--with mehovering all the while alongside of him, mind you--floating along asthough I had been a bird all my life--we turned into the driveway of asummer home. The scientific guy met him. They carried me into the house,into a fine-fitted laboratory. My dead body was placed on a table, ahuge knife ripped my clothes from me.

  "Quickly the loads from ten or a dozen hypodermic syringes were shotinto different parts of my naked body. Then it was carried across theroom to what looked like a large glass
bottle, or vase, with an openingin the top. Through this door I was lowered, my body being held uprightby straps in there for that purpose. The door to the opening was thenplaced in position, and by means of an acetylene torch and some easilymelting glass, the door was sealed tight.

  "So there stood my poor old body. Ready for the experiment to bring itback to life. And as my new self floated around above the scientist andhis helper I smiled to myself, for I was sure the experiment would provea failure, even though I now knew that the sheriff's haste had kept himfrom placing the rope right at my throat and had saved me a broken neck.I was dead. All that was left of me now was my spirit, or soul. And thatwas swimming and floating about above their heads with not aninclination in the world to have a thing to do with the husk of the manI could clearly see through the glass of the bell.

  * * * * *

  "They turned on a huge battery of ultra-violet rays then," continued thehollow droning of the man who had been hanged, "which, as the scientisthad explained to me while in prison, acting upon the contents of thesyringes, by that time scattered through my whole body, was to renew thespark of life within the dead thing hanging there. Through a tube, andby means of a valve entering the glass vase in the top, the scientistthen admitted a dense white gas. So thick was it that in a moment or twomy body's transparent coffin appeared to be full of a liquid as white asmilk. Electricity then revolved my cage around so that my body wasinsured a complete and even exposure to the rays of the green and violetlamps. And while all this silly stuff was going on, around and aroundthe laboratory I floated, confident of the complete failure of the wholething, yet determined to see it through if for no other reason than tosee the discomfiture and disappointment that this mere man was bound toexperience. You see, I was already looking back upon earthly mortals asbeing inferior, and now as I waited for this proof I was all the whilefighting off a new urge to be going elsewhere. Something was calling me,beckoning me to be coming into the full spirit world. But I wanted tosee this wise earth guy fail.

  "For a little while conditions stayed the same within that glass. Sothick was the liquid gas in there at first that I could see nothing.Then it began to clear, and I saw to my surprise that the milky gas wasdisappearing because it was being forced in by the rays from the lightsin through the pores into the body itself. As though my form was suckingit in like a sponge. The scientist and his helper were tense and tautwith excitement. And suddenly my comfortable feeling left me. Until thenit had seemed so smooth and velvety and peaceful drifting around overtheir heads, as though lying on a soft, fleecy cloud. But now I felt asudden squeezing of my spirit body. Then I was in an agony. Before Iknew what I was doing my spirit was clinging to the outside of thattwisting glass bell, clawing to get into the body that was coming backto life! The glass now was perfectly clear of the gas, though as yetthere was no sign of life in the body inside to hint to the scientistthat he was to be successful. But I knew it. For I fought desperately tobreak in through the glass to get back into my discarded shell of a bodyagain, knowing I must get in or die a worse death than I had before.

  "Then my sharper eyes noted a slight shiver passing over the white thingbefore me, and the scientist must have seen it in the next second, forhe sprang forward with a choking cry of delight. Then the lolling headinside lifted a bit. I--still desperately clinging with my spirit handsto the outside, and all the time growing weaker and weaker--I saw thebreast of my body rise and fall. The assistant picked up a heavy steelhammer and stood ready to crash open the glass at the right moment. Thenmy once dead eyes opened in there to look around, while I, clinging andgasping outside, just as I had on the scaffold, went into a deeper,darker blackness than ever. Just before my spirit life died utterly Isaw the eyes of my body realize completely what was going on, then--fromthe inside now--I saw the scientist give the signal that caused theassistant to crash away the glass shell with one blow of his hammer.

  "They reached in for me then, and I fainted. When I came back toconsciousness I was being carefully, slowly revived, and nursed back tolife by oxygen and a pulmotor."

  * * * * *

  The terrible creature telling us this tale paused again to look around.My knees were weak, my clothes wet with sweat.

  "Is that all?" I asked in a piping, strange voice, half sarcastic, halfunbelieving, and wholly spellbound.

  "Just about," he answered. "But what do you expect? I left my friend thescientist at once, even though he did hate to see me go. It had been allright while he was so keen on the experiment himself and while he onlyhalf believed his ability to bring me back. But now that he'd done it,it kinda worried him to think what sort of a man he was turning loose ofthe world again. I could see how he was figuring, and because I had noidea of letting him try another experiment on me, p'r'aps of putting meaway again, I beat it in a hurry.

  "That was five years ago. For five years I've lived with only just partof me here. Whatever it was trying to get back into that glass justbefore my body came to life--my spirit, I've been calling it--I've beenwithout. It never did get back. You see, the scientist brought me backinside a shell that kept my spirit out. That's why I'm the skeleton yousee I am. Something vital is missing."

  He stood up cracking and creaking before us, buttoning his loose coatabout his angular body. "Well, boys," he asked lightly, "what do youthink of that?"

  "I think you're a liar! A damn liar!" I cried. "And now, if you don'twant me to fill you full of lead, get out of here and get out now! If Ihave to do it to you, there's no scientist this time to bring you back.When you go out you'll stay out!"

  "Don't worry," he grimaced back to me, waving a mass of bones thatshould have been a hand contemptuously at me, "I'm going. I'm headed forShelton." He stalked the length of the floor and shut the door behindhim. The beast had gone.

  "The dirty liar!" I cried. "I wish--yes--I wish I had an excuse to killhim. Just think of that being loose, will you? A brute who would thinkup such a yarn! Of course it's all absurd. All crazy. All a lie."

  "No. It's not a lie."

  * * * * *

  I turned to see who had spoken. Hammersly's voice was so unfamiliar andnow so torn in addition that I could not have thought he had spoken, hadhe not been looking right at me, his glittering eyes challenging myassertion. Would wonders never cease? I asked myself. First thisoutrageous yarn, now Hammersly, the "sphinx," expressing an opinion,looking for an argument! Of course it must be that his susceptible andbrooding brain had been turned a bit by the evening we had justexperienced.

  "Why Hammersly! You don't believe it?" I asked.

  "I not only believe it, Jerry, but now it's my turn to say, as he did, I_know_ it! Jerry, old friend," he went on, "that devil told the truth.He was hanged. He was brought back to life; and Jerry--I was thatscientist!"

  Whew! I fell back to a box again. My knees seemed to forsake me. Then Iheard Hammersly talking to himself.

  "Five years it's been," he muttered. "Five years since I turned himloose again. Five years of agony for me, wondering what new devilishcrimes he was perpetrating, wondering when he would return to thatlittle farm to swing his ax again. Five years--five years."

  He came over to me, and without a word of explanation or to ask mypermission he reached his hand into my pocket and drew out my revolver,and I did not protest.

  "He said he was headed for Shelton," went on Hammersly's spokenthoughts. "If I slip across the ice I can intercept him at Black'swoods." Buttoning his coat closely, he followed the stranger out intothe night.

  * * * * *

  I was glad the moon had come up for my walk home, glad too when I hadthe door locked and propped with a chair behind me. I undressed in thedark, not wanting any grisly, sunken-eyed monster to be looking inthrough the window at me. For maybe, so I thought, maybe he was afterall not headed for Shelton, but perhaps planning on another of hisghastly tricks.

  But in the morni
ng we knew he had been going toward Shelton. Scientists,doctors, and learned men of all descriptions came out to our village tosee the thing the papers said Si Waters had stumbled upon when on hisway to the creamery that next morning.

  It was a skeleton, they said, only that it had a dry skin all over it. Amummy. Could not have been considered capable of containing life onlythat the snow around it was lightly blotched with a pale smear thatproved to be blood, that had oozed out from the six bullet holes in thehorrid chest. They never did solve it.

  There were five of us in the store that night. Five of us who know.Hammersly did what we all wanted to do. Of course his name is not reallyHammersly, but it has done here as well as another. He isblack-whiskered though, and he is still very much of a sphinx, but he'llnever have to answer for having killed the man he once brought back tolife. Hammersly's secret will go into five other graves besides hisown.