Grisly Horror Lurked in
A VICIOUS gust of wind shook the building, roaring off across the fields, dwindling to a rumbling sigh, only to give way to another terrific blast. With each fresh onslaught a deluge of rain swished against the windows till it seemed to the occupants of the big, raftered room that the lodge was about to be washed from its foundations. The leaping flame in the great open fireplace cast weird, elusive shadows upon the walls and upon the pensive countenances of the five well-groomed men about the fire.
The room in which they sat was the living room of the comfortable country lodge belonging to Dr. Berg Herzog, A.B., LL.D., renowned nerve specialist, who was included in the group. They had been discussing psychology, and from that had drifted on to spiritualism. Every one of the doctor's guests was a practical, successful business man, who had little time, ordinarily, to give to the latter subject, were he interested. But tonight, the tumult of the elements without, the eerie shadows, and the insinuating warmth and comfort of the luxurious room combined to produce a tolerant consideration even of spirits.
"Assuming the existence of departed spirits desiring to communicate with us, how, then, shall they find a practical way to do so?" came querulously from Masters, dyspeptic and born cynic.
"You don't expect them to step up and beat a Morse tattoo on your skull, do you?" drawled Jim Reynolds, who was distinctly not dyspeptic, and who was inclined to frivolous wonder that anyone should coddle that inconvenient malady.
"I don't think you'll find the spirits seeking 'practical' means of communication, but rather the opposite," ventured the doctor, with a smile. "The subconscious mind presents the likeliest medium."
"A lot of bunk," pronounced Masters.
"What became of that fellow—Nordmann, I believe you said his name was—who was afflicted with the illusion of the 'spook' eyes, Berg?" asked Gordon Sherwood, a close friend of Doctor Herzog's.
The doctor stared into the fire awhile before answering. Another blast of wind wrenched at the solidly built lodge, as though about to lift it bodily.
