A. Merritt's Fantasy Magazine, October 1950 — page 43: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

42 A. MERRITT’S FANTASY The quick echoes told him the space was contracted. Forward he crawled, slowly, cautiously, pausing at almost every foot to feel about him as far as his arms would reach. Nothing obstructed him. Nothing, until his hand once more touched the wall of solid rock. “T’ve crossed it, one way,” said he, now calmer. “I'll see how big it is!” And, following the wall, he crept along. All at once he found no wall. He turned and crept into this seeming passage. But almost at once he found his way barred. The passage turned out to be a sort of niche, or alcove, cut in one side of the crypt. Out went his hand again. It recoiled as though from a cold reptile. For, startled, Dennison recognized that he had touched a plank, a box, or casket of wood. | Waiting a _ second, vainly peering straight ahead of him, he once more laid hands on this box. It proved to be of some smooth, solid wood. He stood up, and, bending over it, explored its whole upper surface. “So?” he commented, strong curiosity almost overcoming his anguished fear. “Six feet long, I should judge. Maybe two and a half or three wide. Strongly screwed together. Ah! What’s this?” At one end, affixed with small tacks, he perceived a thin metal plate, some two inches square. Running his finger-nail over this, he discovered that the surface of the plate was scratched with lines, though what they meant he could form no idea. And for a moment, having now learned all that could be determined about this singular find, he straightened up and stood there ruminating. “No, no,” exclaimed he. “Can’t get it. Don’t understand! Treasure? Heavens above! If I had a screw-driver now, I'd soon—Hallo! What the deuce?” For, as he spoke, he took a step back- ward; and now, quite suddenly, he found himself sprawling on his back, legs higher than his head, supported by something invisible. Quickly he scrambled up, unhurt. ‘‘Another ?”’ He hastily examined it. Like the first, it was strongly put to- gether and bore a metal plate at one end. “Any more?” asked Dennison, in fast- rising excitement. And, cautiously feeling before him, he crouched along. “Number three!” he announced. “This iy smaller. And—another! Smaller sti 99 Forgetting his previous fear of pits in the floor, he crept quickly along the row of boxes. ““Here’s one—and here—and here!” he panted, a new, strange uneasiness gainin possession of his heart. “How many, I’ like to know ? Smaller and smaller—eight, nine—this one’s no longer than a woman —a small woman—here’s some child- sizes—twelve—fifteen of ’em—eighteen in all! Why, a baby’d go in the last one!” He staggered back, mind and soul riven by the frightful truth, realized in a light- ning-flash of intuition. “Coffins!” he screamed, and then shivering, he stood there, gasping, staring wide-eyed at the unseen horror. . CHAPTER 11 . A Serange Exit HYSICIAN though he was, well- used ta sights and sounds of ghastly import, Dennison for a minute or two felt himself sickened with terror by his gruesome discovery. It is one thing to deal with death professionally, imper- sonally; another, to find oneself con- fronted unexpectedly, suddenly and in the dark of an unknown cavern, with a long, horrible row of wooden caskets. But even. so, Dennison’s fright lasted hardly the space of a hundred heart-beats. Then his sang-froid reasserted itself. The revivified force that now pulsed through his veins gave him strength for any prob- lem, any task. And, folding his arms as he stood there in the impenetrable night, he pondered. “What does it mean?” thought he. “Who are these people? Why are they here? Does Il Vecchio know of them? Could he, by any possibility—” A sudden, illuminating suspicion darted through his mind. “What ?’’ he exclaimed. ‘‘Why, in that case, maybe I—understand some things!” And now, all aquiver to learn more, IMICIDOOKS (C(O)