Avon Fantasy Reader No. 7 — page 110: what you’re looking at

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

106 FRANK BELKNAP LONG, JR. | “Stay back,” I shouted. “I shall take. care of this.” The voice rose to a higher pitch; it swelled in the darkness and formed phrases and sentences and pleaded and reproached. © “Oh, Arthur, I warned you! I told you that ss good would come of sleeping here. Arthur, where are you?” “Miss Beardsley,” I cried, “you must go back. It is nothing. No hurt will come to you.’ edt 4s something, Arthur, stead I would face it with you. I have no fear, -. Arthur. There is nothing in the darkness that can hurt us. Only our fears hurt us, and make monsters of the darkness. You must banish fear, Arthur —and I will help you!” I knew that Miss Beardsley had unded the gray’ sb siles and that she walked — within the temple, directly beneath the lowering, menacing eyes of Ishtar. I saw the eyes narrow and their softness disappear and a cold fury flame in their pupilless depths. “Arthur!” called Miss Beardsley, and I knew that she stood not three yards from me. I could have stepped forward and touched her in the darkness. “Arthur!”. The. voice was reproachful and despairing. I moved forward to intercept her, and I saw the eyes drop and swerve to one side, They struck against something soft, and I heard a sudden, frightened scream; and I knew that Miss Beardsley had been attacked, and thrown fe octially upon the ground. I left the protection of the wall and went down on my hands and knees, groping among gray, cutting stones. Surely, I thought, there must be some way of breaking through, of-tearing the darkness apart and rescuing Miss Aes I shivered and moaned and struggled with the darkness, and the most awful terror filled my mind. I pulled myself forward over the sharp stenes until my body became one great sore, and my clothes hung in rags and my eyes filled with tears. For it was all dark and indistinct ahead, and I could not reach Miss Beardsley. Low, choking gasps came from Miss Beardsley, followed by sobs and guggles, and I heard a thrashing and a retching. “This is lethal horror!” I thought. One solitary, tremendous purpose acted like a tonic upon my will. Phee was the horror in the night, and I] must save Miss Beardsley from her ‘dark, loathsome paws! I recognized the menace of Ishtar with a new acuteness. The unearthly evil of Ishtar would imperil the soul of Miss Beardsley, for the goddess would COMIIEIOOKSEGO in