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Fan, issue 2, July 1945
Page 14
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14 disappearance created. I say he introduced himself. He did that in a breathless rush of words as though names did not matter. The first hints of the coming storm were visible on his person, his clothes being mud-spattered and half soaked, so that he could barely refrain from shivering. "Come with me," I urged. "There's a fireplace in the next room, where you can warm yourself and dry your clothes." "A fireplace!" He looked at me through wild eyes, but in the next instant became abruptly profuse in his thanks for what he called my kindness! Once ensconced in the ease and comfort of the library, my precipitate visitor seemed more mentally composed; and I was sure that in the natural course of our conversation he would fully explain his feelings and enable me to judge his condition accordingly. He refused to sit down. He stood there before the immense fireplace glow, staring into it with an uncanny fascination. I did not say a word, nor intrude upon his thoughts. Seated in my armchair I studied him well as I tamped my pipe and drew upon it. His outward expression baffled me. His attitude for the fire was almost one of primitive curiosity rather than gratefulness for its warmth! And I noticed something else. He kept his head half turned away, cocked in a peculiar position as though hearking to something I was not meant to hear. Outside, the storm that had been brewing all day broke with unleashed fury. I could hear it shrieking around the windows. I could picture the smother of rain blotting out the landscape, and the gale from over the sea kicking up the waves into such mad movement that they reverberated against the cliff in mock of the crashing thunder. Yes, I could almost see it. And before Phillip Maxton was through with me that night I was to see it and feel it too! I decided to speak at last. "Fire," I murmured softly. "It fascinates you, does it not? So warm and comforting. So soothing. So . . . . . inviting." I HAD gaged him correctly. At my words he began to shiver violently, and continued to do so for several minutes. I saw at once that he possessed an antipathy, even a fear for fire, albeit fire drew him irresistably -- a condition not unusual even in normal people. "Fire," he uttered hollowly. "Fire and Storm! They possess me! They produce a madness in me, either the one or the other or both! Yet -- I must seek Fire and Storm!" I could see that he was fighting a rising madness at
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14 disappearance created. I say he introduced himself. He did that in a breathless rush of words as though names did not matter. The first hints of the coming storm were visible on his person, his clothes being mud-spattered and half soaked, so that he could barely refrain from shivering. "Come with me," I urged. "There's a fireplace in the next room, where you can warm yourself and dry your clothes." "A fireplace!" He looked at me through wild eyes, but in the next instant became abruptly profuse in his thanks for what he called my kindness! Once ensconced in the ease and comfort of the library, my precipitate visitor seemed more mentally composed; and I was sure that in the natural course of our conversation he would fully explain his feelings and enable me to judge his condition accordingly. He refused to sit down. He stood there before the immense fireplace glow, staring into it with an uncanny fascination. I did not say a word, nor intrude upon his thoughts. Seated in my armchair I studied him well as I tamped my pipe and drew upon it. His outward expression baffled me. His attitude for the fire was almost one of primitive curiosity rather than gratefulness for its warmth! And I noticed something else. He kept his head half turned away, cocked in a peculiar position as though hearking to something I was not meant to hear. Outside, the storm that had been brewing all day broke with unleashed fury. I could hear it shrieking around the windows. I could picture the smother of rain blotting out the landscape, and the gale from over the sea kicking up the waves into such mad movement that they reverberated against the cliff in mock of the crashing thunder. Yes, I could almost see it. And before Phillip Maxton was through with me that night I was to see it and feel it too! I decided to speak at last. "Fire," I murmured softly. "It fascinates you, does it not? So warm and comforting. So soothing. So . . . . . inviting." I HAD gaged him correctly. At my words he began to shiver violently, and continued to do so for several minutes. I saw at once that he possessed an antipathy, even a fear for fire, albeit fire drew him irresistably -- a condition not unusual even in normal people. "Fire," he uttered hollowly. "Fire and Storm! They possess me! They produce a madness in me, either the one or the other or both! Yet -- I must seek Fire and Storm!" I could see that he was fighting a rising madness at
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