An Exceptional Ghost Story
By the Author of "Beyond the Door"
Prisoners of the Dead
By PAUL SUTER
I
OLD JOHN BAMBER turned in his arm chair before the fire, and looked steadily at his nephew. Death was in his face.
The effort required to keep his head from drooping betrayed itself in the sag of his mouth, the tense quivering of his thin neck. But the indomitable pride of mastery showed in him, too; he made no compromise with weakness. The cruel beak that was his nose—sharp as a knife-blade—still dominated his features. His voice, a little tremulous, still grated harshly.
"You may beg my consent till you rot," he said, in his dry cackle. "You won't get it."
Young John took an impulsive step which brought him from the soft, brown shadows of the vast room into the fire's dancing radiance.
"I'm afraid I can't take no for an answer, uncle—" he began, firmly.
But his words trailed off, at the look in the terrible old man's eyes. Old John seemed to be possessed suddenly of unnatural strength. He rose, totteringly, to his feet. With extended arm and a yellow bird's claw of a hand, he pointed at his nephew. The flames from the fireplace lent false glitter to his glazing eyes, and painted the front of his dressing-gown red; but they were powerless to color his face, or his livid arm, where the loose sleeve fell back and left it exposed. The younger man trembled in spite of himself at that ghastly figure, so defiant of the shadows that were pressing upon it, and yet so soon to be one with them.
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