“It was my landlord, with a notice of ejectment or something. He held
it out to me, saw something odd about my hands, I expect, and lifted
his eyes to my face.
“For a moment he gaped. Then he gave a sort of inarticulate cry,
dropped candle and writ together, and went blundering down the dark
passage to the stairs. I shut the door, locked it, and went to the
looking-glass. Then I understood his terror.... My face was white—like
white stone.
“But it was all horrible. I had not expected the suffering. A night of
racking anguish, sickness and fainting. I set my teeth, though my skin
was presently afire, all my body afire; but I lay there like grim
death. I understood now how it was the cat had howled until I
chloroformed it. Lucky it was I lived alone and untended in my room.
There were times when I sobbed and groaned and talked. But I stuck to
it.... I became insensible and woke languid in the darkness.
“The pain had passed. I thought I was killing myself and I did not
care. I shall never forget that dawn, and the strange horror of seeing
that my hands had become as clouded glass, and watching them grow
clearer and thinner as the day went by, until at last I could see the
sickly disorder of my room through them, though I closed my transparent
eyelids. My limbs became glassy, the bones and arteries faded,
vanished, and the little white nerves went last. I gritted my teeth and
stayed there to the end. At last only the dead tips of the fingernails
remained, pallid and white, and the brown stain of some acid upon my
fingers.
“I struggled up. At first I was as incapable as a swathed
infant—stepping with limbs I could not see. I was weak and very hungry.
I went and stared at nothing in my shaving-glass, at nothing save where
an attenuated pigment still remained behind the retina of my eyes,
fainter than mist. I had to hang on to the table and press my forehead
against the glass.
“It was only by a frantic effort of will that I dragged myself back to
the apparatus and completed the process.
“I slept during the forenoon, pulling the sheet over my eyes to shut
out the light, and about midday I was awakened again by a knocking. My
strength had returned. I sat up and listened and heard a whispering. I
sprang to my feet and as noiselessly as possible began to detach the
connections of my apparatus, and to distribute it about the room, so as
to destroy the suggestions of its arrangement. Presently the knocking
was renewed and voices called, first my landlord’s, and then two
others. To gain time I answered them. The invisible rag and pillow came
to hand and I opened the window and pitched them out on to the cistern
cover. As the window opened, a heavy crash came at the door. Someone
had charged it with the idea of smashing the lock. But the stout bolts
I had screwed up some days before stopped him. That startled me, made
me angry. I began to tremble and do things hurriedly.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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