The creature was awake. This was evidenced by the convulsive manner in
which the bedclothes were moved in its efforts to escape. There was
something truly terrible in beholding, as it were, those second-hand
indications of the terrible writhings and agonized struggles for liberty
which themselves were invisible.
Hammond and myself had racked our brains during the long night to
discover some means by which we might realize the shape and general
appearance of the Enigma. As well as we could make out by passing our
hands over the creature's form, its outlines and lineaments were human.
There was a mouth; a round, smooth head without hair; a nose, which,
however, was little elevated above the cheeks; and its hands and feet
felt like those of a boy. At first we thought of placing the being on a
smooth surface and tracing its outlines with chalk, as shoemakers trace
the outline of the foot. This plan was given up as being of no value.
Such an outline would give not the slightest idea of its conformation.
A happy thought struck me. We would take a cast of it in plaster of
Paris. This would give us the solid figure, and satisfy all our wishes.
But how to do it? The movements of the creature would disturb the
setting of the plastic covering, and distort the mold. Another thought.
Why not give it chloroform? It had respiratory organs,--that was evident
by its breathing. Once reduced to a state of insensibility, we could do
with it what we would. Doctor X---- was sent for; and after the worthy
physician had recovered from the first shock of amazement, he proceeded
to administer the chloroform. In three minutes afterward we were enabled
to remove the fetters from the creature's body, and a modeler was busily
engaged in covering the invisible form with the moist clay. In five
minutes more we had a mold, and before evening a rough facsimile of the
Mystery. It was shaped like a man--distorted, uncouth, and horrible, but
still a man. It was small, not over four feet and some inches in height,
and its limbs revealed a muscular development that was unparalleled. Its
face surpassed in hideousness anything I had ever seen. Gustav Dore, or
Callot, or Tony Johannot, never conceived anything so horrible. There
is a face in one of the latter's illustrations to _Un Voyage ou il vous
plaira_, which somewhat approaches the countenance of this creature, but
does not equal it. It was the physiognomy of what I should fancy a ghoul
might be. It looked as if it was capable of feeding on human flesh.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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