“Watch the light,” said the doctor under his breath, and, then I knew
too that it was no fancy of my own that had turned the air darker, and
the way he turned to examine the face of our host sent an electric
thrill of wonder and expectancy shivering along every nerve in my body. Yet it was no kind of terror that I experienced, but rather a sort of
mental dizziness, and a sensation as of being suspended in some remote
and dreadful altitude where things might happen, indeed were about to
happen, that had never before happened within the ken of man. Horror
may have formed an ingredient, but it was not chiefly horror, and in no
sense ghostly horror. Uncommon thoughts kept beating on my brain like tiny hammers, soft yet
persistent, seeking admission; their unbidden tide began to wash along
the far fringes of my mind, the currents of unwonted sensations to rise
over the remote frontiers of my consciousness. I was aware of thoughts,
and the fantasies of thoughts, that I never knew before existed. Portions of my being stirred that had never stirred before, and things
ancient and inexplicable rose to the surface and beckoned me to follow. I felt as though I were about to fly off, at some immense tangent,
into an outer space hitherto unknown even in dreams. And so singular
was the result produced upon me that I was uncommonly glad to anchor my
mind, as well as my eyes, upon the masterful personality of the doctor
at my side, for there, I realised, I could draw always upon the forces
of sanity and safety. With a vigorous effort of will I returned to the scene before me, and
tried to focus my attention, with steadier thoughts, upon the table,
and upon the silent figures seated round it. And then I saw that
certain changes had come about in the place where we sat. The patches of moonlight on the floor, I noted, had become curiously
shaded; the faces of my companions opposite were not so clearly
visible as before; and the forehead and cheeks of Colonel Wragge were
glistening with perspiration. I realised further, that an extraordinary
change had come about in the temperature of the atmosphere. The
increased warmth had a painful effect, not alone on Colonel Wragge, but
upon all of us. It was oppressive and unnatural. We gasped figuratively
as well as actually. “You are the first to feel it,” said Dr. Silence in low tones, looking
across at him. “You are in more intimate touch, of course----”

The Colonel was trembling, and appeared to be in considerable distress. His knees shook, so that the shuffling of his slippered feet became
audible. He inclined his head to show that he had heard, but made no
other reply. I think, even then, he was sore put to it to keep himself
in hand. I knew what he was struggling against. As Dr. Silence had
warned me, he was about to be obsessed, and was savagely, though
vainly, resisting. But, meanwhile, a curious and whirling sense of exhilaration began
to come over me. The increasing heat was delightful, bringing a
sensation of intense activity, of thoughts pouring through the mind
at high speed, of vivid pictures in the brain, of fierce desires and
lightning energies alive in every part of the body. I was conscious of
no physical distress, such as the Colonel felt, but only of a vague
feeling that it might all grow suddenly too intense--that I might be
consumed--that my personality as well as my body, might become resolved
into the flame of pure spirit. I began to live at a speed too intense
to last. It was as if a thousand ecstasies besieged me----

“Steady!” whispered the voice of John Silence in my ear, and I looked
up with a start to see that the Colonel had risen from his chair. The
doctor rose too. I followed suit, and for the first time saw down into
the bowl. To my amazement and horror I saw that the contents were
troubled. The blood was astir with movement. The rest of the experiment was witnessed by us standing. It came, too,
with a curious suddenness. There was no more dreaming, for me at any
rate. I shall never forget the figure of Colonel Wragge standing there beside
me, upright and unshaken, squarely planted on his feet, looking about
him, puzzled beyond belief, yet full of a fighting anger. Framed by
the white walls, the red glow of the lamps upon his streaming cheeks,
his eyes glowing against the deathly pallor of his skin, breathing
hard and making convulsive efforts of hands and body to keep himself
under control, his whole being roused to the point of savage fighting,
yet with nothing visible to get at anywhere--he stood there, immovable
against odds. And the strange contrast of the pale skin and the burning
face I had never seen before, or wish to seen again. But what has left an even sharper impression on my memory was the
blackness that then began crawling over his face, obliterating the
features, concealing their human outline, and hiding him inch by
inch from view. This was my first realisation that the process of
materialisation was at work. His visage became shrouded. I moved from
one side to the other to keep him in view, and it was only then I
understood that, properly speaking, the blackness was not upon the
countenance of Colonel Wragge, but that something had inserted itself
between me and him, thus screening his face with the effect of a dark
veil. Something that apparently rose through the floor was passing
slowly into the air above the table and above the bowl. The blood in
the bowl, moreover, was considerably less than before. And, with this change in the air before us, there came at the same
time a further change, I thought, in the face of the soldier. One-half
was turned towards the red lamps, while the other caught the pale
illumination of the moonlight falling aslant from the high windows,
so that it was difficult to estimate this change with accuracy of
detail. But it seemed to me that, while the features--eyes, nose,
mouth--remained the same, the life informing them had undergone some
profound transformation. The signature of a new power had crept into
the face and left its traces there--an expression dark, and in some
unexplained way, terrible. Then suddenly he opened his mouth and spoke, and the sound of this
changed voice, deep and musical though it was, made me cold and set
my heart beating with uncomfortable rapidity. The Being, as he had
dreaded, was already in control of his brain, using his mouth. “I see a blackness like the blackness of Egypt before my face,” said
the tones of this unknown voice that seemed half his own and half
another’s. “And out of this darkness they come, they come.”

I gave a dreadful start. The doctor turned to look at me for an
instant, and then turned to centre his attention upon the figure of our
host, and I understood in some intuitive fashion that he was there to
watch over the strangest contest man ever saw--to watch over and, if
necessary, to protect. “He is being controlled--possessed,” he whispered to me through the
shadows.