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Stevenson, Burton Egbert, 1872-1962

"The Gloved Hand"

Extend your arms to
the heavens and concentrate your gaze upon that big star up yonder.
Go ahead, doctor," he urged, as Hinman hesitated. "We're trying to
persuade an astral visitor to pay us a call, and it takes team-work."
We stood silent a moment, with our arms above our heads, and I could
hear Godfrey shifting his feet cautiously along the boards of the
floor.
"What's that!" cried Simmonds, for, from the darkness at our feet, had
come a soft whirr as of a bird taking flight.
"Look!" cried Hinman. "Look!"
High above our heads a point of flame appeared, brightened and burned
steel-blue. For a moment it hung there, then it grew brighter and
brighter, and I knew that it was descending. Lower and lower it came,
until it hovered in the air just above us; then it burst into a
million sparks and vanished.
For a moment, no one spoke; then I heard Hinman's voice, and it was
decidedly unsteady.
"What is this, anyway?" he demanded. "The Arabian Nights?"
"No," said Godfrey, and in his voice was the ring of triumph. "It's
merely a device of one of the cleverest fakirs who ever lived. Take
the torch, Simmonds, and let us see how it works.


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