The Horror Megapack_ 25 Classic and Modern Horror Stories ( PDFDrive )

driven, never pausing to lean on their hoes for a breathing spell. They advanced
in an unwavering line, grotesquely combining the precision of military drill with
the uncouth, ungainly movements of dummies.
Connell shivered and shook his head. Questioning such unnatural creatures
would be futile. One glimpse of them and Plato would have taken to his heels.
He wondered if his servant might not have abandoned his flivver, frightened out
of all reason by the uncanny spectacle of Africans working without song and
chatter.
A soft, furtive stirring in the hall just outside of his room made him start
violently. Something softly slinking down the hall had paused at his door. By the
moon glow that penetrated the shadows, he saw the scarcely perceptible motion
of the knob. Something was stealthily seeking him. A silent bound brought
Connell to the fireplace, and out of the moonglow. His trembling fingers closed
on a pair of massive tongs.
He watched the door soundlessly swing inward. A nebulous spindle of
whiteness cleared the edge of the jamb: a spectral, shimmering whiteness that for
an instant froze Connell’s blood. Then he saw the intruder was the girl who had
warned him.
She paused to close the door, and as she turned from the threshold Connell for
the first time realized how lovely she was. Her tiny feet were bare, and her
shapely legs, gleaming like ivory exclamation marks through the sheer, gauzy
fabric of her nightgown, blossomed into seductive curves that fascinated Connell.
The vagrant breeze shifted, drawing the misty fabric closer, revealing her perfections
as though she were clad in no more than bare loveliness. The filmy silk
clung to the inward curve of her waist, and caressed the firm, delicious
roundness of her breast. She was a lovely unreality in the vague light that made
her face a sweet, pallid mask, and her black hair a succession of gleaming
highlights.
She advanced a pace before she saw Connell.
“Leave at once.” As she spoke, she caught his arm. She was trembling violently.
“What’s wrong?”
“It’s not too late,” she whispered as Connell seated himself, and drew her to
the arm of his chair. “My uncle is out putting the night shift to work. “I’m
Madeline Ducoin.”
“I came here to get a man named Plato,” insisted Connell.