Avon Fantasy Reader No. 13 — page 50: what you’re looking at

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

“You know a great deal about music,” he replied; “we shall have to experi- ment.” I jumped to my feet impulsively and struck a chord on the piano. I do not know what I expected, but my heart was beating furiously as the room vibrat- ed with the music. I turned toward the divan; the body lay motionless as before. Dr. Johns drew a chair beside the divan and sat down, staring steadily at Hoorne’s face. “T'ry another,” he said. I played several chords in both major and minor keys; there was no effect whatever upon the body. With a sudden inspiration I turned around and rested my elbows on the music-ledge. Then I brought one of them sharply _ down upon the black keys. Simultaneously with the discord came a _ pierc- ing shriek, followed by a low, mumbling groan, the most hideous, horrible sound I have ever heard issue from human lips. When I got to the divan the body was lying on its side, the knees drawn closely up to the chest. I caught a glimpse of the contorted, agonized face. Then, with a convulsive jerk the legs straightened, the face relaxed. It was as though nothing had occurred, save that now the body was lying on its side, with one of its arms still hanging down, and the hand lying limply upon the floor. Nothing else of importance happened that morning; the body remained motionless, and we were too unnerved to try any further experiments. We pulled down the shades and sat beside the divan, looking into the placid, ghastly white face of our friend, and talking together in low tones. Occa- sionally Dr. Johns would jump up and begin nervously to pace up and down the room, only to drop back in his chair again after a moment. About noon the housekeeper timidly knocked on the door and brought us lunch. Dr. Johns agreed with me that until we considered it vitally necessary we should not call in any assistance, for publicity of this character would be extremely harmful to Hoorne’s career. We decided therefore to carry the case through ourselves, and cautioned Mrs. Beacon to say nothing to the servants beyond the fact that their master was very ill, with two physicians in at- tendance. We both felt better when we had eaten lunch. At Dr. Johns’s request Mrs. Beacon and I brought down from one of the upper bedrooms a small cot. We . undressed Hoorne and laid him on it, covering him to his neck with its white counterpane. Then dismissing the tearful, almost hysterical housekeeper with another admonition to say nothing concerning her master’s condition, we prepared to carry out another experiment. 3 It was our plan—we had discussed it all very carefully at Junch—to begin with the faintest possible musical sounds, and find by trial those that would effect the body without causing the agony we had witnessed before. Dr. Johns sat at the bedside and I at the piano began striking chord combi- nations as softly as 1 could. It was not until I had evolved what amounted practically to a discord that a sharp exclamation from Dr. Johns made me stop abruptly. “Remember that,” he commanded. “Play that again. Louder—a little loud- 48 ‘ | —“—_ ie comicbook