THE MONSTER MEN
Edgar Rice Burroughs
1
THE RIFT
As he dropped the last grisly fragment of the
dismembered and mutilated body into the small vat of
nitric acid that was to devour every trace of the
horrid evidence which might easily send him to the
gallows, the man sank weakly into a chair and throwing
his body forward upon his great, teak desk buried his
face in his arms, breaking into dry, moaning sobs.
Beads of perspiration followed the seams of his high,
wrinkled forehead, replacing the tears which might have
lessened the pressure upon his overwrought nerves. His
slender frame shook, as with ague, and at times was
racked by a convulsive shudder. A sudden step upon the
stairway leading to his workshop brought him trembling
and wide eyed to his feet, staring fearfully at the
locked and bolted door.
Although he knew perfectly well whose the advancing
footfalls were, he was all but overcome by the madness
of apprehension as they came softly nearer and nearer
to the barred door. At last they halted before it, to
be followed by a gentle knock.
"Daddy!" came the sweet tones of a girl's voice.
The man made an effort to take a firm grasp upon
himself that no tell-tale evidence of his emotion might
be betrayed in his speech.
"Daddy!" called the girl again, a trace of anxiety in
her voice this time. "What IS the matter with you,
and what ARE you doing? You've been shut up in
that hateful old room for three days now without a
morsel to eat, and in all likelihood without a wink of
sleep. You'll kill yourself with your stuffy old experiments."
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