That Haunting Thing COMPLETE NOVELETTE BY ACHMED ABDULLAH

>;annlnn the very Ubi . which such a thin* ahould . ned. 'h* 1 * wlif notb ' ' ‘ her in the icaet paychic or , matter with a capital M. ; «|,h a capital S; %. rather, s-nt wan eex without the cx-puatoo-HMS dealtux enUreiy - |r . lff .i r whh bank accounts. 1- raclnx cars, dlarconda. and r haupa<BW. She was lovely. d nne the heart* and the n ,on a* a breath drive, a

. .>.,t of flame.

. ' ter finger nail* gave the mare

, .-at ide tenement (she Uwi< Smith 1 where ahe had n and bred: for they were kept, too hi* ly polished, .in manicured. But men

• notice It. They r 'dom looked - than her hair which wa* like , ? ,mi reddlsh-hronie helmet.

• -nooth. ivory forehead, her . 'irately curved nose, her lip* Wl . r , ctiruaon like a fresh round, her eye* wbirh spoke n'Uf promises—and died dam-

.. nfw had been melodrnmatlc—

man'* ansi*, he It under- ; rd not from her «nrn sine*-.

- i 1; evil. *he w** beyond the

„f bad and. of j j-de. behind

touched her. It touched her non-phy*lcal)y. That 1. the only way > put It. Nor wa* ahe afraid then. On the contrary, ahe felt rather sorry for the Thing. And that touched In her the aen*e of awe—naturally, since to feel sorry wa* to her a new sensation, since never before in all her life had she frit sorry for anything or anybody. The result waa she began to hate the Thing—with cold, calculating hatred, hetred without

fear.

She locked the window* and door*. Quite Instinctively her hand brushed ti e tiny naere button which controlled the Venetian chandelier. Bnt she did not pres* It. She left .the boudoir in darkness. For she wa* familiar with every stick of furniture about the place. She knew the exart location of the great, carved, crimson-and-gold Spanish renaissance day bed between the window and the fire-place, the big t.uhl table in the center of the room the smaller one. covered with a mass of bricabrac, between the two window*. the low divan running along the south wall and overlapping toward the fireplace, the three chairs i.ngies. the four little tabourett*. and. In the northeast corner the Chin' screen, inlaid with ivory and lace and

•.•.•od. There had bi-en d< Lj js, trail of her shlmmeiinc gownc. , ir. it in. the Kllme of divoree earn, dirgraee to more than on*. ; • she hsd never carod a whit, fib ■> - si way* petting her own hard -eht:-. puncturing the live* of r-nser*—who never remained g.rs for lone—with the dagger paint of her personality, her greed, her evil; and men kept on fluttering ■ro-md the red. burning candle which van h. r lif-- like atlly willow files. Then more death*, requiemr bouc*** id paid for. and all that aort ol

tblnc.

Quite melodramatic. Incredibly, garishly so. But—what will you? It isn't always the woman who pays, s-are and pulpit to tne contrary- And - if she does pay—It's usually the man •■ho enuorser the note. When she reached her home on the ro.-er we*t side that Saturday night, he felt the Thing th« moment she pried across the threshold. She felt hmuded. ambiguous, vague. But it w.-s there. Very small at first. HldAn somewhere In the huge, square entrance hall end peering In upon her mind. She wondered what It was. and what it might be doing there. So she called to her mrId: She did not call to reassure herself. For the woman was not afraid. That wa* It exactly: she was not afraid ftom first to last. If she had been, rhe woulu have switched on the light. But she did not. She left the flat In darkness. liellberately. And that, sgain, was stronger since hitherto she hsd always hated darkness and halflight and seeping, graying shadow; had always wanted and gioried in full, orange bursts of color—big. clu*"'ring. massive, cruel lights. She had Jur* that sort of complexion—pallid, you know, smooth, with the color rising ev.-nly. dawn-hued nnd lender, and lever in patches and blurry streak*. "Annette! Annette!'' she called again, a mere matter of habit: for ihe relied'm her rewpec able, middh**red Burgundian maid for everything t!:d everything that troubled her. from wrestling with a cynical. Inftuisittvc reporter to putting the correct quantity of ammonia in her hromo

"Yea

came the maid's

1 which she kept a small

liquor ehest. Sho knew the room, every inch of it. a.rd could move about it. in spite of the darkness, like a cat. The Tiling, on the other hand, whatever It was. would find many pitfall 1 ' in the cluttered-up boudoir if it tried

get rambunctious.

There latter were ’he exact words with which Diana Manning expressed ll.e thought to hereelf: In this very moment of awe and hatred. Rememl„. r —she was born and bred on the East Side. Of course, since those days . sooty, sticky, grimy tenement chrysalis, she had learned to broad er. her a's ard slur her r’e and to clrotge the clang of the gutters for that of the race tracks. But, some how. she knew that the Thing would be more familiar with her earlier dic-

tion.

She lay down on the couch, staring into the darkness. She had decided to watch carefully, to pounce upon the Thing suddenly and to throttle it For. somehow, the Thing had taken ou the suggestion of deliberate, personal intention of an agressive hostility—something which felt and hated, even suffered, yet which had no bodily reality. The realisation of tt frose Diana into rigidity—not the rigidity of fear, but something worse than fear, partaking of Fat< of—she didn't know what. She only knew that she must watch—then pounce and kill. "I must have matters out with it.’ she thought. “One of us two is master in tlii* room: It of 1. And I cant afiord to wait all night. At half past eleven young Bunny Whipple Is railing for me ” Acain at the thought of "Bunny Whipple, she felt that strange, hateful new sensation of awe. blended ith pity. The Thing was responsible for it—the Thing. How she haled it! She clenched her lifts until the knuckles it retched bite. What bad the Thing to do with Bunny' Whipple's little bluoeyed. golden-haired wife—the bride

who

Diana cut off the thought In midair and tossed it aside n» if U » ert ' a soiled glove. She watched more carefully than ever, her breath com!nf. In short staccato bursts, her body tense and stationed, her mind rigid. She tried to close her mind: she did j nt want the Thing to peep in upon It. For right then *be knew—she lid not :eel nor guess—she knew that the Thing had the trick of expanding a! d decreasing at It made her angry. She did not con-

sider it fair.

For It gave to the Thing the advantage of suddenly shrinking to the fixe of a pin point and hiding In a ] knot ol the Tabriz rug which cov- : ered the floor and. immediately after-

leap<vl up with an immense rushing of wings, appeared to float, leaped again toward the celling a* if trying to jerk it away from th" cross beams. Then Just as suddenly. It dropped i the floor. It lay there, roaring with laughter. She fell It She knew

IU

Too, she knew exactly where It as: between the large buhl table and the divan. She'd get it ..nd choke it while It lay there helpless • with merriment. She jump'd from her couc’’.. her fingers spread like a cat's claws. 'IU get you—you—you Thing!" she ?aid the words out loud "111 get you' IU get you!" Her voice rose in a fhrili. tearing *hriek—step by step, she approached the divan. "I'll get you—get you—get you—"' "Madame! Madame! Did you call me?" It was the maid's voice coming from the hall. "No—go! Go to bed. Annette! G fc bod—do you hear me?" as the maid rattled the door-knob. "I don't want to be disturbed—" "I beg your pardon, mr.dome. r.otte coughed discretely. "I didn't know that anybody—thought you had come home alone—1—" "Go to Led! At once" Diana ■-bricked: then, the maid’s footstep* pattering away, fell on the couch, panting:.

Madame.

sleepy voice. 4 "Has anybody railed?” "No. madame.” "But"—She looked into th< corner of the entrance hall. The Thing femed to be crouching among the P-acock-green cushions of the

man there.

"But. Annette"—ahe commenced

again.

She did not complete the sentence^, ^- J b|oxtinfc ln , 0 monstrous The Thing was there. And what did ^ ^ ^ bB . 1O0n . and Hosting It matter how l, had go. in : low ^, thc stuccoed celling like an I am coming, madame. said thc . 5onp bubb ie-hanglng there ev . , „ . * _ . I-looking down with th.it stmnge. Never mind. Go to sleep. I» i r friendly determination, ties* myself. Good night. Annett . Whipple’S wif^-" sb. ' Good night, madame! ' .....in -i *aw her ytfsterDiana Manning ..hrugged her stout-, ^ jjj siny Hu!e fool recogwalked across the entrance hal:. ^ ^ ghe woUld have spoken to

me had 1 given her the chance. Spoken to me as she wrote me—asking me to give her back her husband'-

nnd put her hand on the door-knob of, her boudoir. She said lo herself that she would open the door quickly, ‘■'or ^ she sensed, rather, she knew, that the

-love-

'I'hlnc Mndrf lo follow h-f. H r»dl - ^ . orJ . „ .'rt . worn- .nd ol.or .od dot.no.-m .,. r , » om oihlB t fo—IwImiVI,- ^.••erirttni**'tin ' ef-owu ■ ...

tion. A certain kindly determination that, just for a fleeting moment,

touched in her sense of awe.

But the moiuent she opened the door, the uonien, bv: lithe liody slid from the darkness of the entrance

hall into the creamy, silky, perfumed | tip straight,

darki es* of her boudnl

and s^ft and halve and laughable. like a bail of cotton or a tiny

kitten—

The next moment, she whipped it aside with her hard will. She sat

the forming of

knew i the word, th- Thing which a second

that th- Thing flitted tn by her side She fe)t H blow over her neck. h»*i fare, her breast. Bke a bu«: of wtai

She wr.s in a towering rage, felt sure that If It had not been for the maid she could have pounced upon he Thing while It lay there on the Boor, roaring with laughter. Now the laughter had died out and thc Thing bad got away. It hai* shrunk Into a tiny butterfly—that's how Diana felt —which was beating Its wings against the brass rod of the portlers. But it .-.as fluttering rather helplessly, blindly. as I*, had l»*t some of Its energy and vigor; and again Diana felt sorry and correspondingly her hatred grew. And her determination •Til get you -you—" She waited nntil her breath came more evenly, rose, walked noiselessly i the portieres and rustled them. The Thing was startled. Diana could feel the tiny wing* flutter and beat. She could hear Its terrible straining effort to bloat into a huge roab-bubbl* and. not succeeding, to shrink Into a pin-point. But something was making it Impossible. and Diana knew what It It was the fact that. In one of the bidden back cells of her brain, the thought of Bunny Whipple's silly little fool of a golden-haired wife had taken firm root, refused fo budge. So Diana kept the- thought, nursed it. It seemed like a bait, and she thrust It forward She spoke out loud, her fa*« raised

up to the portiere*.:

'Silly little fool of a golden-baired bride" and she added, out of subconssclous volition: "Silly Bunny!" She had spoken the last word* ca resslngly. as a naughty boy speaks to a cat before he catches her and tweak* her tall. f..id the Thing was about to fall Into the trap. For a second tt hovered on the brass rod. set-mod to wait, expectant, undecided Then it came donn a few inches. It fluttered within reach of Diana's out-

stretched hand.

But when *be closed her hand suddenly. viciously. It winged away avain. breathless, frightened, but un hormod. It flew into the center of the room. It made a renewed 'errible effort to bloat Into a baloon. And this time It succeeded partly. She did not fe« i exactly what shape It had assumed, flabbv. covered all over with soft lump* which were very

beastly.

She follov.ed mot determined than ever, and the Thing tried to leap into

the air.

It had n-arl» succeeded wh t Diana with quick presence of mind, though' again o» Bunny Whipple and Bunny Whipple's silly, golden-haired wife "She ask* me to give her back Bunny'* Jove—his love! God! Does th<- silly little fool think that Bunny loves me? Does she call that—Ixive*" This time it was Dima who burst into a roar of laughter, and the Thing stood still and listened, its head cocked to one side, stupid, ridiculous, foolish: and when Diana neared it. when it tried to By. to hover, to in mid air. all it succeeded in doing was to mov, swiftly about the room. Just an Inch or two > away from the woman's groping fingers. Diana laughed again, for she knew that the thing had lost its faculty of flying, that it would not be able to i scape her for long with the chances i.n in her favor. For the boudoir was cluttered-up with furniture and she kn«-w the location of every piece, while the Thing would lose Itself, stumble, fall, and then "Walt! You Just wait!" she whispered; and the Thing backing away from the center of the room toward the carved Chinese screen, she fob rid* by step, her fins

ing, clawing, the lust of the hunter in her eyes, in her heart. "FO thro,tie yon—" Then she reconsidered. To throtil-* i ms to kill, she would have to mens•e her own strength exactly against the Thing's strength of reslstenc-. And that would be hard. For the Thing was non-physical It had no

body.

is sure to have a heart. She would sub that heart. So she picked from the buhl Uhle the Jeweled Circassian dagger which she had admired the day before In a little shop on Islington avenue, ard which Bunny had given to her—with some very foolish remark, quite typical of Mm—she remembered. ”1 wish to God you’d kill yourself with It! Get out ol my life—leave me In peace—me and Lottie—" Lottie was the silly, golden-balrod

wife.

But when, dagger In hand. Plana took up the chase again, she wa* disappointed with the room a* she herself. It avoided sliding rugs, sharp--rnered buhl Ubles. taborets and rhair# placed =t odd angles. It never ucrh as nr red a single one of the many brittle bit* of brie-a-bnic. Once it chuckled a* if faintly

something.

it Idana did not give up heart bad made up her mind, and she was a hard woman—her soul n blendg of diamond and fire-kissed *tec “III get you’" end she thought new and better way. She would corner the Thing. Again she advanced slowly. Hourly, step by step, driving the Thing before her across the width of he room always keeping uppermost u her mind the thought of P inny Whipple and his silly fool of * goldenbaired wife—the thought which was paralyzing the Thing's faculty of bloating ahd shrinking and flying. The end came very suddenly. Watching her chance, she had the Thing cornered, straight up against inlaid Chinese screen. It tried to shrink—to bloat—to fly—to get away. But Diana had timed her action to the click of a second. She brougnt dagger down—with all her strength—and the Thing crumpled, it gave, it wa* not. Tb're was Ju»t a sharp pain, crimson smear, and a very soft voice from a far. starry, velvety disunce. "Ydu have killed me. Diana!”

"Kllled-

whom? Who are you?" table toward him.

The evil in yonr soul. Diana! The evil—" Ihen something wMch had been congealed seemed to tarn fluid and alive and golden: something ro*e into a slate that wa* too calm to be

ectacy.

The next morning. Bunny V"hippie's silly, bine-eyed, golden-haired wife * a* sitting across from her Husband ai breakfast. He wa* white and haggard and shaky. She looked at him. pity in her eyes. "Have you seen the morning paper. Bunny?" she asked. "No! Don't want to. More scandal about me. I guess—" he bit the word* off savarely. "Only—that—that woman—” she

faltered.

"Diana Manning! All right! What about her?” A man may get rich by attending "She was found dead last night— strictly to hi* own business, but the by her maid. She had stabbed herself monotony eventually becomes annoythrough the heart with a Circassian Ing. dagger. The papers say that a smile _______________________ was on her face—a happy, sweet smile

She picked up the Star and

read the reporter's lyric outburst out

loud:

“As if death had brough* her happiness and salvation snd a deep. calm, glorious fulfilment." Bunny Whipple did not reply. He stared into his coffee cup. Very suddenly he looked up. HI* wife had risen and walked around the

She put her slim, white hands on his

shoulder*.

There were tears In hei eyes—tear* and a trembling question. He drew her to him. and kissed her. Silicas—“Ah. who can define lover' Cynlcus—"1 can. It's what people write novels and play* about.” The firoverb that brings the most comfort to the lazy man Is the one telling us that Rome wasn’t built In

n day.

“Every man 1* the architect of his own fortune.” quoted the WUe Guy. "And the world Is full of mighty bum architects.” added the Simple Mug.

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