art It is as a fine art I have had to consider it. In that connection I have had to consider three things: 1, That you must be killed. 2. That you must be killed in such a manner that you shall suffer the greatest possible amount of pain. 3—and not the least essential—That you must be killed in such a manner that under no circumstances can I be found guilty of having caused your death. I have given these three points my careful consideration, and I think that I have been able to find something which will satisfy all the requirements. That something is in this box."
The stranger went to the box which was on the table—the square box which had, as ornamentation, the hideously alternating stripes of blue and green and yellow. He rapped on it with his knuckles. As he did so, from within it there came a peculiar sound like a sullen murmur.
"You hear? It is death calling to you from the box. It awaits its prey. It bids you come."
He struck the box a little bit harder. There proceeded from it, as. if responsive to his touch, what seemed to be a series of sharp and angry screeches.
"Again! It loses patience. It grows angry. It bids you hasten. Ah!"
He brought his hand down heavily upon the top of the box. Immediately the room was filled with a discord of sounds, cries, yelpings, screams, snarls, the tumult dying away in what seemed to be an intermittent, sullen roaring. The noise served to rouse the snakes, and efts, and lizards to renewed activity. The room seemed again to be alive with
