Manchurian Books

"Look at this," he said. Around his chest, above his heart, the skin
was white as pearl. This whiteness was sharply defined against the
healthy tint of the body. It circled him with an even cincture about
two inches wide.
"Burn it!" he said, and offered me his cigarette. I drew back. He
gestured--peremptorily. I pressed the glowing end of the cigarette
into the ribbon of white flesh. He did not flinch nor was there odour
of burning nor, as I drew the little cylinder away, any mark upon the
whiteness.
"Feel it!" he commanded again. I placed my fingers upon the band. It
was cold--like frozen marble.
He drew his shirt around him.
"Two things you have seen," he said. "_It_--and its mark. Seeing,
you must believe my story. Goodwin, I tell you again that my wife is
dead--or worse--I do not know; the prey of--what you saw; so, too, is
Stanton; so Thora. How--"
Tears rolled down the seared face.
"Why did God let it conquer us? Why did He let it take my Edith?" he
cried in utter bitterness.


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