“Jack Frost is the best in the market-
12, and instead of a groan the deep
breathing of the slcejier sounded through
the room, “you won’t receive any sum
mons tonight, and J may make myself
comfortable.”
Noiselessly 1 replenished the fire,
poured myself out a large glass of wine,
and. drawing the curtain so that the fire
light should not disturb the sleeper, 1
put myself in a position to follow his ex
ample. How long I slept I know not,
but suddenly I aroused with a start and
a thrill of horror.
Something—what, 1 knew not—seem
ed near, something nameless, but unut
terably awful.
The fire emitted a faint blue glow,
just sufficient to enable me to see that
the room was exactly the same as when
I full asleep, but that the long hand of
the clock wanted but five minutes of
the mysterious hour which was to be
the death moment of the “summoned”
man!
The silence was intense.
1 could not even hear a breath from
the bed, and 1 was about to rise and ap
proach, when again that awful horror
seized me, and at the same moment my
eye fell upon the mirror opposite the
door, and I saw an awful shape—ghastly
mockery of what had been humanity!
It stood there in visible death clothes;
but the awful face was ghastly with cor
ruption, ami the sunken eyes gleamed
with a green, glassy glare which seemed
a veritable blast from the infernal tires
below.
I saw that horrid shape move slowly
toward the bed. What was the awful
scene enacted there I know not. 1 heard
nothing except a low, stifled, agonized
groan, and I saw the shadow of that
ghastly messenger bending over the bed.
