It is Martha, not I, who remembers the happenings of the next few moments. The death of Farber released her instantly from her hypnotic trance. She came to her senses slowly, looked about her as if awakening from some wild dream, and then stumbled from the operating-table. It was she who released me from my bonds and helped me to my feet. Then, weak and trembling, we passed out the door and through the black corridor to the street. I looked back when I reached the walk, looked back in answer to a grim and fearful fascination.
There was that huge disproportionate building with the three bulging colonnades rising to form a claw of granite before the black façade. There were the dark eye-like windows staring sullenly forward, leering at me like a monstrous sea-bat.
I shuddered, passed my arm around Martha, and led her gently toward the Strand.
Incubus
By August W. Derleth
She said,
A creeping, crawling thing had lain
Each night upon the counterpane. . . .
They said,
It could not be, it only seemed
To be; she had but dreamed. . . .
She said,
Sometimes at night she felt its breath.
Fetid like the breath of death. . . .
They said,
Hallucination without question;
She must be treated by suggestion. . . .
They wore her nerves down by suggestion,
For hallucination without question,
And were amazed one dawn to find her dead,
With marks upon the pillow and the bed
As if some creeping, crawling thing had lain
All night beside her on the counterpane.
