Avon Fantasy Reader No. 8 — page 31: what you’re looking at

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

The Machine Whan of aS by Lo Hagg The late Francis Flagg acquired fame in the field of writing under two names. Under his birth name of Henry George Weiss he was appreciated in poetry circles as a writer of topical verse—usually brimming over with protest against social iniquities. Under his prose name of Francis Flagg, he gathered ‘a reputation as a writer of dependable science-fiction and weird stories. A writer combining such talents was bound to take H. G. Wells as his guide for entry into literature. And the following story, which gained Flagg his initial triumph, betrays the Wells inspiration quite credibly. ams” [0 NOT know what to believe. Scmetimes I am positive I dreamed it all. But then there is the matter of the heavy rocker. That undeniably did disappear. Perhaps someone played a trick on me. But who would stoop to a deception so bizarre, merely for the purpose of befuddling the wits of an old man? Perhaps someone stole the rocker. But why should anyone steal the rocker? It was, it is true, a sturdy piece of furni- ture, but hardly valuable enough to excite the cupidity of a thief. Besides the rocker was in-its place when I sat down in the easy-chair. Of course, I may be lying. Peters, to whom I was misguided enough to tell everything on the night of its occurrence, wrote the story for his paper, and the editor of The Chieftain says as much in his editorial of the 15th, when he remarks that “Mr. Matthews seems to be the possessor of an imagination equal that of an H. G. Wells.” And, considering the nature of my story, I am quite ready to forgive him for doubting my veracity. : However, the few friends who know me better think that I had dined a little too wisely or too well, and had been visited with a nightmare. Hodge suggested that the Jap who cleans my rooms had, for some reason, removed the rocker from its place, and that I merely took its presence for granted when I sat down. The Jap strenuously denies having done so. I must pause a minute here to explain that I have two rooms and a bath on the third floor of a modern apartment house fronting the Lake. Since my wife's death three years ago I have lived thus, taking my breakfast and lunch ae Eo Cconnicloooks