A serious man who seemed quiet smart clothes and a gray beard, I did go to the attic room, and I spoke these terms:
"Yes, here he lived ... but I advise you not to touch anything. Your curiosity makes you irresponsible. We never come here at night, and silo keep it this way it is, is only his will. You know what he did. That abominable society took charge at the end, and do not know where is buried. Neither the law nor anything else could get to that society.
"- I hope not to stay here until nightfall. Please do not touch what's on the table, that looks like a matchbox. Do not know ourselves what it is, but suspect it has something to do with what he did. We even avoid looking too intently.
Soon after, the man left me alone in the attic room. Was very dirty, dusty and primitively furnished, but had a neatness which showed it was not a slum of a commoner. There were shelves full of theological and classical books and other library with treatises on magic: Paracelsus, Albertus Magnus, Trithemius, Ilermes Trismegistus, Boreilus and others in a strange alphabet whose titles I could not decipher. The furniture was very simple. There was a door, but it led only to a closet. The only way out was the opening of the ground, up to which the crude, steep staircase. The windows were portholes, and the black oak beams revealed a great antiquity. Obviously, this house belonged to old Europe. I seemed to know where I was, but I can not remember what I then knew. Since then, the city was London not. My impression is that it was a small seaport.
The purpose of the table fascinated me. I think they could use, because I got a flashlight, or something like a flashlight from his pocket and nervously tested its flashes. The light was not white but violet, and the beam seemed less a ray of light that a radioactive bombardment. I remember I did not consider a flashlight power: in effect, had a common in another pocket.
was getting dark, and the ancient roofs and chimneys, outside looked very queer through the glass of the porthole windows. Finally, gathering value, relied on my HBRO the small object on the table and then turned the rays of the peculiar violet light. The light seemed to be more like a rain or hail of small violet particles than a continuous beam. As the particles struck the glassy surface of the strange object appeared to produce a crackle, crackling horn of a vacuum tube to be traversed by a shower of sparks. The dark surface of a pinkish glow, and a vague white shape seemed to take shape in its center. Then I realized I was not alone in the room .. and put the projector rays in the pocket.
But the newcomer did not speak, nor hear any noise during the moments that followed. Everything was shadowy pantomime, as seen from great distance> through a haze ... Although, on the other hand, the newcomer and all subsequent comers loomed large and close, as if both far and near, according to some abnormal geometry.
The newcomer was a thin, dark man of medium height, dressed in clerical garb of the Anglican Church. He looked about thirty years old, sallow complexion, olive, and a pleasant face, but his forehead was abnormally high. His black hair was well cut and neatly combed and his face shaved, though blue due to the chin beard. He wore rimless glasses with steel rims. Her figure, and factions of the lower half of the face, were like those of the clergy that I had seen, but his face was surprisingly high, and had a sullen expression and clever, while more subtle and secretly perverse. At that time - just turn on a weak oil lamp -. seemed nervous, and before I knew it I had begun to show the books of magic to a fireplace that was next to a window of the room (where steeply inclined wall), which I had not noticed before. The flames devoured the volumes greedily, leaping up in strange colors and emitting indescribably foul odor while the pages of mysterious hieroglyphs and wormy bindings succumbed to the devastating element. Suddenly, I noticed that there were other people in the room: serious-looking men, dressed as a priest, who included one wearing bow tie and pants bishop. Though I could hear nothing, I realized they were bringing a decision of enormous importance to the first arrivals. He seemed to hate and fear him at the same time, and that such sentiments. His face a grim expression, but I noticed that when trying to grip the back of a chair, his right hand shaking. The bishop pointed to the empty and the fireplace (where the flames were extinguished in the middle of a pile of charred debris and reports), special prisoner apparently upset. The first comer then gave a wry smile and extended his left hand toward the small object on the table. All seemed frightened. The procession of clerics began filing down the steep stairs through the trapdoor in the floor, while returning and making menacing gestures disappear. The bishop was the last to leave the room.
The first was that it had reached a bottom cabinet and pulled out a coil of rope. Mounting a chair, tied one end to a hook in the large central beam of black oak, and began making a noose at the other end. Realizing he was about to hang himself, I thought to dissuade or save him. He saw me and ceased his preparations, he looked with a kind of triumph that puzzled me and filled me with unease. Declined slowly from the chair and started toward me with a smile clearly wolf in his dark, thin lips.
I felt that I was in mortal danger and got the projector beams strange as a weapon of defense. I do not know why, I thought I would help. I turned it on full face and saw the sallow features, in light purple first and then pink. His expression of wolfish exultation began to give way to one of deep concern, if not entirely borrársele reached. He stopped short, flailing his arms wildly in the air, began to stagger backwards. Sc approached I saw the opening of the floor and screamed to warn him, but did not hear me. A moment later. staggered back. fell through the opening and disappeared from sight.
I took forward to the trapdoor of the staircase. but on arrival found that there was no crushed body on the floor below. Instead. was a clatter of people coming up with lanterns, had broken the eerie silence time and again heard noises and saw figures usually three dimensional. It was clear that something had drawn a crowd to this place. Had there been a noise I had not heard? Then the two men (simple villagers, apparently) who went to the lead saw me off, and stayed paralyzed. One of them shouted in a thundering:
- Ahhh! ... "So are you? Again?
then turned and fled frantically. All but one . When the crowd was gone I saw the man serious gray beard who had brought me to this place, standing alone, with a flashlight. He looked at me stunned, fascinated, but not with fear. Then started up the stairs and met me in the attic. Said
So not left it in peace! Sorry. I know what happened. Already happened once, but the man got scared and shot himself. There ought to have brought back. You know what he wants. But you should not panic as scared the next. Has something happened very strange and terrible, but not to the extent of damage your mind and personality. If you keep your cool, and accepts the need to make some radical adjustments in your life, you can still enjoy the existence and the fruits of their knowledge. But you can not live here, and I do not want to return to London. My advice is to go to America.
should not play again this ... object. Now, nothing can be as before. Invoke the do-or-anything would simply worsen the situation. Has not left you too badly as it could have happened ... but have to leave here immediately and settle elsewhere. Can thank heaven that has not been more serious.
"- I'll explain with the greatest possible openness. It has been a certain change in ... personal appearance. It's something he always causes. But in a new country, you can get used to it. There, on the other side of the room, there is a mirror will bring it. Will suffer a strong Print .. but it will not be repulsive.
I began to tremble, dominated by a fear of death; bearded man almost had to hold me while I accompanied to the mirror, with the weak light (ie, which was previously on table, not lamp, even weaker, which he had brought) in his hand. And what I saw in the glass:
A thin, dark man of medium height and wearing the clerical garb of the Anglican Church , about thirty years, with rimless glasses and steel rings, glasses glistening on his forehead sallow, olive usually high.
was the silent who had arrived first and burned the books.
For the rest of my life, physically, I was going to be that man!
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