"How did you know we were coming," Curtis asked.
"A gentleman called here early this morning and told me," Karaver
explained. "He said three friends of his particularly wished to be on
the Astral Plane, at twelve o'clock this evening, and that they would
each pay me a hundred guineas, if I would show them how to get there.
I demurred. The secrets that have come down to me through generations
of my Cashmere ancestors, I tell only to a chosen few--those born
under the sign of Dejellum Brava.
"The stranger showing me the sign--written plainer than I have ever
seen it--in the palm of his hand, I at once consented, and I had no
sooner done so than he vanished. I knew then that I had been speaking
to an Elemental--a spirit of my native mountains."
"My nerves are not in a condition to stand much. Is there anything
very alarming in this astral business?" Kelson asked.
"It depends on what you call alarming," the Indian said coldly. "I
shouldn't be alarmed."
"Don't be a fool, Matt," Hamar interposed. "I never saw such a
frightened idiot in my life. You ought to be ashamed of yourself.
Think of what there is at stake."
"Think of Lilian Rosenberg," Curtis whispered, "and be comforted."
Karaver took them upstairs into a dimly lighted attic. In the centre
of the carpetless floor was a tripod, around which the three were told
to sit. Karaver then proceeded to pour into an iron vessel a mixture
composed of: 1/2 oz.
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