A weird secret, a revolting, gruesome mystery, surrounded the Strange People. They kept their eery secret well, but the horror of it weighed terribly upon them, and they freely chose death to the alternative of having their secret found out.
Cunningham found himself caught in the toils of intrigue and mystery among a people who murdered in defense of their terrible secret; found himself in love with a girl of the Strange People; faced their flashing knives and fierce hatred, only to learn that he would be slain if he returned again, as a precaution against the finding out of their fearful secret.
Braving the dark intrigues of Vladimir, who swears that he will make the Strange People kiss the dust under his feet (because of his knowledge of their secret), Cunningham goes again into the mountains, and is captured by the Strangers. The exciting denouement, the weird adventures, and the dramatic revelation of the frightful secret, make a mystery story of eery thrills and fascinating interest. It will begin in the
March issue of
WEIRD TALES
On Sale February 1
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The Ghost-Table
(Continued from page 158)
ceased when we switched on the lights. But too late. He was dead.
"We never knew whether the impact of the table killed him, or whether he was dead before the table touched him. A medical certificate was made, giving heart failure as the cause: for the less said about such matters the better.
"I resumed possession of the table," continued the dealer, "but every night about 12, that table began its antics. That sort of thing went on for weeks, ever increasing in violence. I sold it to you, thinking that you—since you didn't know its history and your house was in no way connected with the foregoing events—might put a stop to such unbelievable performances."
"I see your line of thought," I replied, "but it didn't work out that way, unfortunately. And my house, thanks to your fraud, is a wreck. And fraud it is, for you represented it to be a table, and not a saber-toothed tiger.”
"Quite right, sir," he answered contritely. "And I assure you"
"By the way," interrupted Paul, "what brought you here at this time?"
"The police . . . you told them of the table night before last. They naturally investigated my shop and questioned me about the table, thinking some collector had followed it from the shop to this house. So I knew it was up to its old tricks."
"Now," I queried, "what are you going to do with it? You've bought it back from me; so I can't follow my inclination to chop it up and burn it."
"Neither can I," declared the dealer. "For if I did, I'd feel I had assassinated Professor Percival. So I'll keep it chained up in a brightly lighted room."
