in with anxious care; at times
he went back and peeped into the book as though uncertain. Then he
opened the bags, which seemed to hold certain kinds of powder, this
dusty, that in grains; he ran them through his hands, and then poured a
little of each into his dish, and mixed them with his hands. Then he
stopped and looked about him. Then he walked to a place in the wall on
the further side of the altar from the door, and drew the arras
carefully aside, disclosing a little alcove in the wall; into this he
looked fearfully, as though he was afraid of what he might see.

In the alcove, which was all in black, appeared a small shelf, that
stood but a little way out from the wall. Upon it, gleaming very white
against the black, stood the skull of a man, and on either side of the
skull were the bones of a man's hand. It looked to him, as he gazed on
it with a sort of curious disgust, as though a dead man had come up to
the surface of a black tide, and was preparing presently to leap out. On
either side stood two long silver candlesticks, very dark with disuse;
but instead of holding candles, they were fitted at the top with flat
metal dishes; and in these he poured some of his powders, mixing them as
before with his fingers. Between the candlesticks and behind the skull
was an old and dark picture, at which he gazed for a time, holding his
taper on high. The picture represented a man fleeing in a kind of
furious haste from a wood, his hands spread wide, and his eyes staring
out of the picture; behind him everywhere was the wood, above which was
a star in the sky--and out of the wood leaned a strange pale horned
thing, very dim. The horror in the man's face was skilfully painted, and
Anthony felt a shudder pass through his veins. He knew not what the
picture meant; it had been given to him by the old Italian, who had
smiled a wicked smile when he gave it, and told him that it had a very
great virtue. When Anthony had asked him of the subject of the picture,
the old Italian had said, "Oh, it is as appears; he hath been where he
ought not, and he hath seen somewhat he doth not like." When Anthony
would fain have known more, and especially what the thing was that
leaned out of the wood, the old Italian had smiled cruelly and said,
"Know you not? Well, you will know some day when you have seen him;" and
never a word more would he say.

When Anthony had put all things in order, he opened the book at a
certain place, and laid it