You shall yourself unloose the box, and you shall yourself give death its freedom, so that it may work on you its will. The most awful death that a man can die ! Come to me, here!"
And the man went to him, moving with a curious, stiff gait, such as one might expect from an automaton. The creatures writhing on the floor went unheeded, even though he trod on them.
"Stand still in front of the box." The man stood still. "Kneel down."
The man did hesitate. There did seem to come to him some consciousness that he should himself be the originator of his own volition. There did come on to his distorted visage an agony of supplication which it was terrible to witness.
The only result was an emphasised renewal of the command.
"Kneel down upon the floor."
And the man knelt down. His face was within a few inches of the painted box. As he knelt the stranger struck the box once more with the knuckles of his hand. And again there came from it that strange tumult of discordant sounds.
"Quick, Andrew, quick, quick! Press your finger on the spring! Unfasten the box!"
The man did as he was bid. And, in an instant, like a conjurer's trick, the box fell all to pieces, and there sprang from it, right into Mr. Howitt's face, with a dreadful noise, some dreadful thing which enfolded his head in its hideous embraces.
There was a silence.
Then the stranger laughed. He called softly—
"Andrew!" All was still. "Andrew!" Again
