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Acolyte, v. 1, issue 1, Fall 1942
Page 12
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"My God---no!" Vincent screamed. He trembled, nearly fell backward over his swivel chair. Never had I seen a face so convulsed with terror. And how I loved it!---gloated over it! "You won't experiment any more on human beings!" Norton cried. Then he squeezed the trigger. Vincent's mouth gaped, but the scream never came. He fell, writhed a moment and lay still. Swiftly we left the house. I knew we had to hurry, for the butler had surely heard the shot. The alarm would go out--- We caught a taxi at the corner and headed for the clinic. I knew Kirkland often when there evenings to annoy me, letting me read newspapers and magazines which he propped on a stand in front of me. The cab jolted to a halt. Norton paid the fare, walked rapidly across the pavement and into the building. The unlocked door indicated the fat man's presence, so I told Norton to go at once to the main office, where light shone behind the frosted glass. Without knocking, Norton opened the door. The gross philanthropist sat behind his desk, and as we entered, he snapped shut the book he was reading and glared at the janitor. He stood up ponderously, lips parted, face turning crimson. "Norton, what the hell do you mean bursting into my office this time of the night?" He hadn't seen the satchel. I felt like smiling as he sat down, his hand darting toward the telephone. He hadn't dialed, so I knew someone had called him. "The police, maybe," I thought happily. "This is going to be good!" His lips didn't move and the message escaped me, but I had an idea that a badly frightened butler was on the other end of the wire. Suddenly the receiver quivered in Kirkland's fingers. The color left his face and a muscle at the corner of his mouth twitched. The black instrument clattered on the desk as his eyes fastened on the satchel---on me. For an instant he seemed unable to comprehend what had happened; then his face writhed into a mask of horror. I told Norton to raise the revolver. Kirkland sat there as if paralyzed, bulging eyes staring at the muzzle of the gun. "You know what's happened, Kirkland," Norton said. "You're going to get the same thing Vincent got---a slug in the brain. You know I'm not Norton---I'm that other thing you locked in this case of steel! But Norton is going to kill you, at my command!" "No! No! Chris---" Norton fired. The bullet left a neat blue hole in his forehead. The fat body collapsed onto the floor, spilled out of the chair like hideous jelly. I told Norton to return to the laboratory---the place -- 13 --
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"My God---no!" Vincent screamed. He trembled, nearly fell backward over his swivel chair. Never had I seen a face so convulsed with terror. And how I loved it!---gloated over it! "You won't experiment any more on human beings!" Norton cried. Then he squeezed the trigger. Vincent's mouth gaped, but the scream never came. He fell, writhed a moment and lay still. Swiftly we left the house. I knew we had to hurry, for the butler had surely heard the shot. The alarm would go out--- We caught a taxi at the corner and headed for the clinic. I knew Kirkland often when there evenings to annoy me, letting me read newspapers and magazines which he propped on a stand in front of me. The cab jolted to a halt. Norton paid the fare, walked rapidly across the pavement and into the building. The unlocked door indicated the fat man's presence, so I told Norton to go at once to the main office, where light shone behind the frosted glass. Without knocking, Norton opened the door. The gross philanthropist sat behind his desk, and as we entered, he snapped shut the book he was reading and glared at the janitor. He stood up ponderously, lips parted, face turning crimson. "Norton, what the hell do you mean bursting into my office this time of the night?" He hadn't seen the satchel. I felt like smiling as he sat down, his hand darting toward the telephone. He hadn't dialed, so I knew someone had called him. "The police, maybe," I thought happily. "This is going to be good!" His lips didn't move and the message escaped me, but I had an idea that a badly frightened butler was on the other end of the wire. Suddenly the receiver quivered in Kirkland's fingers. The color left his face and a muscle at the corner of his mouth twitched. The black instrument clattered on the desk as his eyes fastened on the satchel---on me. For an instant he seemed unable to comprehend what had happened; then his face writhed into a mask of horror. I told Norton to raise the revolver. Kirkland sat there as if paralyzed, bulging eyes staring at the muzzle of the gun. "You know what's happened, Kirkland," Norton said. "You're going to get the same thing Vincent got---a slug in the brain. You know I'm not Norton---I'm that other thing you locked in this case of steel! But Norton is going to kill you, at my command!" "No! No! Chris---" Norton fired. The bullet left a neat blue hole in his forehead. The fat body collapsed onto the floor, spilled out of the chair like hideous jelly. I told Norton to return to the laboratory---the place -- 13 --
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