The Black Mask — page 63: what you’re looking at

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

More Deadly his eyes quickly searched the vast chamber for a hiding place, finally alighting upon the black screen em- broidered with the likeness of Var- chuk. Hastily drawing the curtains to- gether behind him, he moved down the steps and attained the temporary security of the screen just as the ponderous double-doors swung open. A lone figure entered—a figure in a gown of Chinese gold tissue. Tre- maine caught his breath voluntarily, for it was the creature who had bent over him while he lay in the cell. Her gilded form seemed to swim in the glow of the globular lamp as she drifted toward the crimson tapes- tries, Reaching the top of the steps, she thrust apart the curtains and stood for an instant with her draper- ies spread wing-fashion, looking down tpon the man in the sarco- phagus; then she bent over him, her dark hair cascading about her white neck, a laugh rippling from her lips. “My king!” Tremaine heard her murmur in liquid tones. Then she moved back, shoulders against the crimson tapestries, her eyes upon the face in the sarco- phagus. “Come forth, O Moon-brow!” she commanded. Tremaine watched Bicathlecsi Slowly, very slowly, the black clad figure in the sarcophagus sat up, his face burning with an unearthly pal- lor in the shadowy alcove. “Come, O my king!” continued the caressing voice. With ai dream-like movement Lance Amber abandoned the stone sarcophagus and stood erect between the crimson tapestries, his eyes open, glassy, his black robe dragging on the floor about his feet. The woman in the Chinese gold tissue backed down the stairs, step than the Viper 61 by step, never removing her eyes from those of the man, and with a slow tread he followed .:. across the hall to the lacquered chest. “Be seated!” she commanded. He obeyed and as he sank on the chest she bent low—lower yet—until her jet-black eyes were on a level with his.... Tremaine, watching the strange performance from behind the screen, was beginning to grasp a tangible so- lution for Amber’s condition. Hyp- nosis! This gold-robed woman ex- serted that power over her victims. He understood now the lassitude that he had felt when she bent over him in the cell. .2 She -was speaking again—“Now— awaken!” At her evocation the eyes of Lance Amber lost the glassy.expression, be- came almost normal, and he lifted one thin white hand, passing it over his brow—as if to wipe away the re- maining tangles of a nightmare. The woman laughed again, allur- ingly and low. He got to his feet, staring at her. “You, you again?’ he said in the half drowsy voice of the recently awakened sleeper, “Good God!” “And why should not I be here, beloved ?” Amber dropped on the chest, his haggard face falling in his hands, and the woman knelt, locking her white arms about him. “Art thou not glad to see me, O Moon-brow?” she purred, “Am not I fair to look upon? Does not the sight of me stir in thee some flame of love?” A sob broke from the man. “Love you,” he echoed fiercely, thrusting her away, “Knowing you to be what you are?” She ‘only laughed—that laugh. — : siren