st what. But that it was going to be rather important, I knew--"
He suddenly thrust his head into his hands, and rocked to and fro.
"How long, how long," he moaned, "how long, Santhu?"
"Jim!" I cried. "Jim! What's the matter with you?"
He straightened. "In a moment you'll understand," he said.
And then, as quietly as before: "I felt that the glass was waiting. The night I disappeared I couldn't sleep. I turned out the lights in the room; turned them on around the glass and sat before it. I don't know how long I sat, but all at once I jumped to my feet. The dragons seemed to be moving! They were moving! They were crawling round and round the glass. They moved faster and faster. The thirteenth dragon spun about the topaz globe. They circled faster and faster until they were nothing but a halo of crimson and gold flashes. As they spun, the glass itself grew misty, mistier, mistier still, until it was nothing but a green haze. I stepped over to touch it. My hand went straight on
A man made wealthy by looting the Forbidden City in China during the war mysteriously disappears from his bedroom for a day, then reappears there looking as if he had been attacked by an animal. He will only speak to his friend (the narrator,) and he tells an unbelievable story that a strange mirror is a doorway to another world.
Good description and plotting, though a somewhat predictable ending.
(1917) Horror (Mystic world) / Short story
R: * * * *
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