and; once or
twice he glanced fearfully at the skull, and the hands which gleamed
luridly through the smoke; the figures in the picture wavered in the
heat; and now the powders began to burn clear, and throw up a steady
light; and still he read, sometimes turning a page, until at last he
made an end; and drawing something from a silver box which lay beside
the book, he dropped it in the flame, and looked straight before him
to see what might befall. The thing that fell in the flame burned up
brightly, with a little leaping of sparks, but soon it died down; and
there was a long silence, in the room, a breathless silence, which, to
Anthony's disordered mind, was not like the silence of emptiness, but
such silence as may be heard when unseen things are crowding quietly
to a closed door, expecting it to be opened, and as it were holding
each other back.

Suddenly, between him and the picture, appeared for a moment a pale
light, as of moonlight, and then with a horror which words cannot
attain to describe, Anthony saw a face hang in the air a few feet from
him, that looked in his own eyes with a sort of intent fury, as though
to spring upon him if he turned either to the right hand or to the
left. His knees tottered beneath him, and a sweat of icy coldness
sprang on his brow; there followed a sound like no sound that Anthony
had ever dreamed of hearing; a sound that was near and yet remote, a
sound that was low and yet charged with power, like the groaning of a
voice in grievous pain and anger, that strives to be free and yet is
helpless. And then Anthony knew that he had indeed opened the door
that looks into the other world, and that a deadly thing that held him
in enmity had looked out. His reeling brain still told him that he was
safe where he was, but that he must not step or fall outside the
circle; but how he should resist the power of the wicked face he knew
not. He tried to frame a prayer in his heart; but there swept such a
fury of hatred across the face that he dared not. So he closed his
eyes and stood dizzily waiting to fall, and knowing that if he fell it
was the end.

Suddenly, as he stood with closed eyes, he felt the horror of the
spell relax; he opened his eyes again, and saw that the face died out
upon the air, becoming first white and then thin, like the husk that
stands on a rush when a fly draws itself from its skin, and floats
away into the sunshine.

Then there fell a low and sweet music upon the