r hat
bouncing on his head.

Panting, he reached the gate and stumbled up the walk, thankful
that it still was there.

On the stoop he stood for a moment, breathing hard. He glanced
back over his shoulder and a queer feeling of inner numbness
seemed to well over him. At that moment the gray nothingness
appeared to thin ... the enveloping curtain fell away, and he
saw....

Vague and indistinct, yet cast in stereoscopic outline, a
gigantic city was lined against the darkling sky. It was a city
fantastic with cubed domes, spires, and aerial bridges and flying
buttresses. Tunnel-like streets, flanked on either side by
shining metallic ramps and runways, stretched endlessly to the
vanishing point. Great shafts of multicolored light probed huge
streamers and ellipses above the higher levels.

And beyond, like a final backdrop, rose a titanic wall. It was
from that wall ... from its crenelated parapets and battlements
that Mr. Chambers felt the eyes peering at him.

Thousands of eyes glaring down with but a single purpose.

And as he continued to look, something else seemed to take form
above that wall. A design this time, that swirled and writhed in
the ribbons of radiance and rapidly coalesced into strange
geometric features, without definite line or detail. A colossal
face, a face of indescribable power and evil, it was, staring
down with malevolent composure.

* * * * *

Then the city and the face slid out of focus; the vision faded
like a darkened magic-lantern, and the grayness moved in again.

Mr. Chambers pushed open the door of his house. But he did not
lock it. There was no need of locks ... not any more.

A few coals of fire still smouldered in the grate and going
there, he stirred them up, raked away the ash, piled on more
wood. The flames leaped merrily, dancing in the chimney's throat.

Without removing his hat and coat, he sank exhausted in his
favorite chair, closed his eyes then opened them again.

He sighed with relief as he saw the room was unchanged.
Everything in its accustomed place: the clock, the lamp, the
elephant ash tray, the marine print on the wall.

Everything was as it should be. The clock measured the silence
with its measured ticking; it chimed abruptly and the vase sent
up its usual sympathetic vibration.

This was his room, he thought. Rooms acquire the personality of
the person who lives in them, become a part of him. This was his
world, hi