Then suddenly there came a quick rustle, a dark shadow launched itself from the wall upon the two-inch figure that crept toward the door, there was a shrill squeal, a tiny human scream, and abrupt, unnatural silence. "_A rat_," whispered Follansbee shakily. "_My God!_" He got up unsteadily and looked down at the bed. The moonlight lay unbroken on the counterpane. The End * * * * * KARLOFF'S MONSTER by Forrest J. Ackerman An interview of extreme interest to fantasy film fans was that of Boris Karloff with Jimmie Fidler over the air on the "Hollywood on the Air" program earlier in the year. Karloff spoke: "I shall create a Monster like Frankenstein's. No brain--just a huge creature which shall guard against reporters and interviewers. Connect the electrodes!" A snap. "Throw the switches!" A crackling of electricity. And Karloff, crying: "It lives ... it moves! ... it lives.... Karloff's monster LIVES!" Then the Monster spoke--with the voice of Jimmie Fidler, the interviewer. "Alas"--Karloff was in despair; "I _have_ created a Frankenstein monster: it's a fan magazine writer!" And Jimmie Fidler then proceeded to question him. Proving himself to be anything but one of the many monsters he has portrayed, William Henry Pratt (known on the screen as the man from Karloffornia who is sure to never Boris) stated in a private word addressed to his admirers that he greatly appreciated all their letters, and that he was always grateful for criticism received of his work. * * * * * His next pictures will be "Frankenstein Lives Again!" "A Trip to Mars," "The Werewolf of London," and "The Raven." * * * * * The Legacy by Kenneth B. Pritchard My friend, Frederick Brown, and I are lawyers. Lawyers often come up against strange cases; but the case that Brown had a while ago, was the oddest and by far the most weird I have ever heard of. Brown and I were lunching together one noon, when the subject was broached of the peculiar things that one sometimes meets up with. "James," said Fred, "You never had anything happen to you that can compare with a certain case of mine; I'll wager on it." "Shoot," I said. "Let's have an earful. What's it all about?" "I had a legacy," he began without hesitation, "a few weeks ago, that was void to all concerned unless it was signed by one man. All others involved had attached their signatures to the documents. But, Ogleman's--that was his name--was missing." "You mean the Ogleman that died a short time ago?" I broke in. "The same," Brown admonished. "I must hasten to add," he went on, "that a time limit was set, on this certain day, in which the signatures must be obtained. Ogleman was not in town.