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The Project Gutenberg EBook of Doom of the House of Duryea, by Earl Peirce This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org Title: Doom of the House of Duryea Author: Earl Peirce Release Date: June 6, 2010 [EBook #32710] Language: English Character set encoding: ASCII *** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK DOOM OF THE HOUSE OF DURYEA *** Produced by Greg Weeks, Mary Meehan and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net Doom of the House of Duryea By EARL PEIRCE, JR. [Transcriber Note: This etext was produced from Weird Tales October 1936. Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.] [Sidenote: _A powerful story of stark horror, and the dreadful thing that happened in a lone house in the Maine woods._] Arthur Duryea, a young, handsome man, came to meet his father for the first time in twenty years. As he strode into the hotel lobby--long strides which had the spring of elastic in them--idle eyes lifted to appraise him, for he was an impressive figure, somehow grim with exaltation. The desk clerk looked up with his habitual smile of expectation; how-do-you-do-Mr.-so-and-so, and his fingers strayed to the green fountain pen which stood in a holder on the desk. Arthur Duryea cleared his throat, but still his voice was clogged and unsteady. To the clerk he said: "I'm looking for my father, Doctor Henry Duryea. I understand he is registered here. He has recently arrived from Paris." The clerk lowered his glance to a list of names. "Doctor Duryea is in suite 600, sixth floor." He looked up, his eyebrows arched questioningly. "Are you staying too, sir, Mr. Duryea?" Arthur took the pen and scribbled his name rapidly. Without a further word, neglecting even to get his key and own room number, he turned and walked to the elevators. Not until he reached his father's suite on the sixth floor did he make an audible noise, and this was a mere sigh which fell from his lips like a prayer. The man who opened the door was unusually tall, his slender frame clothed in tight-fitting black. He hardly dared to smile. His clean-shaven face was pale, an almost livid whiteness against the sparkle
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