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the skull-faced man of my dreams!
    8. Black Wisdom
     
    “By thought a crawling ruin,
    By life a leaping mire,
    By a broken heart in the breast of the world
    And the end of the world’s desire.”
— Chesterton
     
    The terrible spectacle drove for the instant all thought of rebellion from my mind. My very blood froze in my veins and I stood motionless. I heard Hassim laugh grimly behind me. The eyes in the cadaverous face blazed fiendishly at me and I blanched from the concentrated satanic fury in them.
    Then the horror laughed sibilantly.
    “I do you a great honor, Mr. Costigan; among a very few, even of my own servants, you may say that you saw my face and lived. I think you will be more useful to me living than dead.”
    I was silent, completely unnerved. It was difficult to believe that this man lived, for his appearance certainly belied the thought. He seemed horribly like a mummy. Yet his lips moved when he spoke and his eyes flamed with hideous life.
    “You will do as I say,” he said abruptly, and his voice had taken on a note of command. “You doubtless know, or know of, Sir Haldred Frenton?”
    “Yes.”
    Every man of culture in Europe and America was familiar with the travel books of Sir Haldred Frenton, author and soldier of fortune.
    “You will go to Sir Haldred’s estate tonight —”
    “Yes?”
    “And kill him!”
    I staggered, literally. This order was incredible — unspeakable! I had sunk low, low enough to smuggle opium, but to deliberately murder a man I had never seen, a man noted for his kindly deeds! That was too monstrous even to contemplate.
    “You do not refuse?”
    The tone was as loathly and as mocking as the hiss of a serpent.
    “Refuse?” I screamed, finding my voice at last. “Refuse? You incarnate devil! Of course I refuse! You —”
    Something in the cold assurance of his manner halted me — froze me into apprehensive silence.
    “You fool!” he said calmly. “I broke the hashish chains — do you know how? Four minutes from now you will know and curse the day you were born! Have you not thought it strange, the swiftness of brain, the resilience of body — the brain that should be rusty and slow, the body that should be weak and sluggish from years of abuse? That blow that felled John Gordon — have you not wondered at its might? The ease with which you mastered Major Morley’s records — have you not wondered at that? You fool, you are bound to me by chains of steel and blood and fire! I have kept you alive and sane — I alone. Each day the life-saving elixir has been given you in your wine. You could not live and keep your reason without it. And I and only I know its secret!”
    He glanced at a queer timepiece which stood on a table at his elbow.
    “This time I had Yun Shatu leave the elixir out — I anticipated rebellion. The time is near — ha, it strikes!”
    Something else he said, but I did not hear. I did not see, nor did I feel in the human sense of the word. I was writhing at his feet, screaming and gibbering in the flames of such hells as men have never dreamed of.
    Aye, I knew now! He had simply given me a dope so much stronger that it drowned the hashish. My unnatural ability was explainable now — I had simply been acting under the stimulus of something which combined all the hells in its makeup, which stimulated, something like heroin, but whose effect was unnoticed by the victim. What it was, I had no idea, nor did I believe anyone knew save that hellish being who stood watching me with grim amusement. But it had held my brain together, instilling into my system a need for it, and now my frightful craving tore my soul asunder.
    Never, in my moments of worst shell-shock or my moments of hashish-craving, have I ever experienced anything like that. I burned with the heat of a thousand hells and froze with an iciness that was colder than any ice, a hundred times. I swept down to the deepest pits of torture and up to the highest crags of torment — a