I will grant it. You may now see me," chanted the mocking voice.
Before him the face of the evil pontiff of the devil could gradually be realized.
The master held his hands against his cheeks in the customary "thumbs-up" pose!
Despite Dr. Grayson Alden's gallant determination, a chill of almost superstitious terror paralyzed him for the nonce! This eerie business, the weird lights—all these were enough to shake the spirit of any normal man. And despite his study of phrenology, the doctor was essentially normal in everything.
He gulped, pressed his hand to a dripping, cold forehead, as the master chortled merrily in his crocodile glee!
"What do you mean by all this? I want to get out of here," began the doctor when he found his tongue.
The other laughed cynically.
"What do you mean by coming here?" was the answer. In rasping tones, "You have seen what no stranger is allowed to see—the Red Flower of the Black Death! Even as you forced yourself into these sacrosanct domains against my rules to do me unto death, I sentence you to be buried alive as the beginning of your punishment!"
As the half-shut eyes laughed in gloating gleam the face began to fade from view.
Aklen felt a new vibrant, and he looked down.
The pedestal upon which he had been captive was beginning to sink into the great crater of burning luminosity.
He was tempted to leap—anywhere, anywhere, anywhere! Yet there was nowhere to leap. 