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Fantasy Fan, v. 2, issue 6, whole no. 18, February 1935
Page 87
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February, 1935, THE FANTASY FAN 87 with incredible rapidity, yet achieving no distance in the parallelogram of moonlight--the figure of a man! Back and forth it ran with a space so small that it might have been covered by the extended palm of a hand. The two men stared in growing amazement. Then Follansbee turned to the window again. But there was nothing there--nothing on the glass, nothing against the glass outside, nothing flying against the moonlight in the sky. He turned back to the bed. The shadow was still there. He bent, peering intently. The incredible shadow was running wildly, this way and that, its tiny arms outflung, its spindle-legs moving rapidly upon the counter-pane, a thing alive, yet without substance. "Good God," muttered Tenny at last. "It's a man--it's a live man. But where is he?" "I don't know," Follansbee jerked out. He stood for a few moments more, his fascination for the unbelievable shadow holding him there; then he swung away and went over to the work-bench, where he lit a lamp and began to thumb swiftly through a group of old books lying carelessly abandoned there. Tenny followed, asking, "Can I help?" The older man nodded. "Check up on all references to magical designs in these books," he said. "I've got an idea. I don't know what's in it, but it's worth trying." It was Follansbee who found what they sought. "Here it is," he said suddenly. "Magical designs on glass. it's been marked up by someone, too --Kroll, most likely. Parts of it are illegible, but the sense of it can be made out. Third paragraph down in the second column." Tenny bent to read the printed lines on the yellow page: "Certain mages have brought into being worlds of glass--invisible in glass, the objects of such consistency that thought hey cannot be seen in the light of the sun, they are shadowed by the moon...The glass is of no ordinary kind, but must be specially made. And the creatures to be placed there may be drawn from the mindor from life." "Yousee?" out in Follansbee, drawing the book away. "That's what he was doing--but something happened. He tried it on himself, and vanished." Tenny turned astonished eyes on the glass in the windew. Follansbee abruptly left the workbench and, going over to the window, raised it. "It's the upper pane we want," he murmured. "It must be broken--there's no other way. But be careful that all the pieces fall into the room." As he spoke, the older man pulled down the upper half of the window. Then he drew the curtain down outside the glass, and into the room again below. "All right," he said. "Break it, Fred." Tenny rapped sharply against the glass of the upper pane. It did not break. He struck it harder with the trident from the work bench. Still it did not break. Then he smashed into it with all his strengtn. The glass
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February, 1935, THE FANTASY FAN 87 with incredible rapidity, yet achieving no distance in the parallelogram of moonlight--the figure of a man! Back and forth it ran with a space so small that it might have been covered by the extended palm of a hand. The two men stared in growing amazement. Then Follansbee turned to the window again. But there was nothing there--nothing on the glass, nothing against the glass outside, nothing flying against the moonlight in the sky. He turned back to the bed. The shadow was still there. He bent, peering intently. The incredible shadow was running wildly, this way and that, its tiny arms outflung, its spindle-legs moving rapidly upon the counter-pane, a thing alive, yet without substance. "Good God," muttered Tenny at last. "It's a man--it's a live man. But where is he?" "I don't know," Follansbee jerked out. He stood for a few moments more, his fascination for the unbelievable shadow holding him there; then he swung away and went over to the work-bench, where he lit a lamp and began to thumb swiftly through a group of old books lying carelessly abandoned there. Tenny followed, asking, "Can I help?" The older man nodded. "Check up on all references to magical designs in these books," he said. "I've got an idea. I don't know what's in it, but it's worth trying." It was Follansbee who found what they sought. "Here it is," he said suddenly. "Magical designs on glass. it's been marked up by someone, too --Kroll, most likely. Parts of it are illegible, but the sense of it can be made out. Third paragraph down in the second column." Tenny bent to read the printed lines on the yellow page: "Certain mages have brought into being worlds of glass--invisible in glass, the objects of such consistency that thought hey cannot be seen in the light of the sun, they are shadowed by the moon...The glass is of no ordinary kind, but must be specially made. And the creatures to be placed there may be drawn from the mindor from life." "Yousee?" out in Follansbee, drawing the book away. "That's what he was doing--but something happened. He tried it on himself, and vanished." Tenny turned astonished eyes on the glass in the windew. Follansbee abruptly left the workbench and, going over to the window, raised it. "It's the upper pane we want," he murmured. "It must be broken--there's no other way. But be careful that all the pieces fall into the room." As he spoke, the older man pulled down the upper half of the window. Then he drew the curtain down outside the glass, and into the room again below. "All right," he said. "Break it, Fred." Tenny rapped sharply against the glass of the upper pane. It did not break. He struck it harder with the trident from the work bench. Still it did not break. Then he smashed into it with all his strengtn. The glass
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