“I don’t believe,” he said, “there’s a kick left in them⁠—”

What was that sound beating into the chamber faintly, so faintly? My heart gave a great throb and seemed to stop for an eternity. What was it⁠—coming nearer, ever nearer? Now Lakla and O’Keefe heard it, life ebbing from lips and cheeks.

Nearer, nearer⁠—a music as of myriads of tiny crystal bells, tinkling, tinkling⁠—a storm of pizzicati upon violins of glass! Nearer, nearer⁠—not sweetly now, nor luring; no⁠—raging, wrathful, sinister beyond words; sweeping on; nearer⁠—

The Dweller! The Shining One!