the surgical skill of that ingenious fiend.
"The eternal silence was oppressive, maddening. I prayed for death in vain, for I possessed no material body with which to execute self-destruction. My mind and personality were helplessly chained to this lump of clay called the brain.
"Then I found something to live for.
"Every day comes the doctor to work long hours at his experiments, sometimes with chemicals, test tubes and retorts, sometimes with tissue and microscopes or again with strange photographic apparatus. And every night before he leaves he comes and stares at me for many minutes. He knows that the tissue of my brain lives, but he has as yet found no way of determining whether or not it functions. And it pleases me to keep him in ignorance, for the day of my vengeance is very near. That is what I have found to live for.
"I have learned a great deal since my incarceration here, among other things, that Dr. Jaeger, whatever may be his nature and personal character, is one of the world's great scientists, a specialist in many things, in all of which he excels. I have learned, too, something of the manner in which I am kept alive here. The tube leading into the jar from above connects with the nickel tank, which contains a supply of the secret fluid. The valves are arranged to let the fluid pass very slowly through the jar, finding egress through the lower valves and out through the tube which they control. The liquid is nutritious and at body temperature. A subtle, periodical chemical reaction causes the color change, designed to protect my naked eyes from the light. Beyond the fact that the fluid has a chemical similarity to human blood and contains a colorless compound carrying oxygen, I have no knowledge of its composition.
"But I have learned much more
ANNOUNCING
the
December Number
of
WEIRD TALES
The Unique Magazine
If you enjoy a story of thrills and horror and breathless interest, written by a master story-teller, don't fail to read
Death Waters
By Frank Belknap Long, Jr.
Author of "The Desert Lich"
The surface of the lake was covered with little pink water snakes. They wriggled and glided over the water, and from the crest of the hill rolled down a mass of slithering things that froze up the centers of speech in the two white men. And the black stood up in the canoe and shouted in a jubilant outburst of cannibalistic hysteria. A remarkable story, told with fascinating vividness.
In the December Issue'
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