He caught his breath. "The Bible entry." There was a throbbing in his system he had not experienced since he was a boy, the pulsing of force inside him, crying for release. " If thy right eye offend thee, pluck it out." He paced restlessly, feeling himself near the edge of the precipice, the mist about to part in front of him, the truth about to appear. " If thy right eye offend thee - "

He couldn't get it; turned his mind away from it. What else had happened in the chapel? The torn wallpaper. What had that meant? The medallion - broken, like a spearhead pointing at the altar. And, on the altar, the open Bible. "God." His voice was trembling, eager. He was so close - so close. " If thy right eye offend thee, pluck it out." Ego, the thought recurred. " If thy right eye offend thee, pluck it out." Ego. He stopped, his inner senses heightening with awareness. He was almost there. Something; something. " If thy right eye - "

"The tape!" he cried.

He whirled and rushed for the doorway. Edith ran after him as he plunged into the corridor and over to the staircase. He was halfway down before she'd reached the landing, springing down the steps with vaulting leaps. Edith descended as quickly as she could and ran across the entry hall.

He was at the great-hall table, listening to the tape recorder. She bit her lip involuntarily as she heard Lionel's voice. " -

causing brief systemic shock." Fischer made a grumbling sound and shook his head as he pressed the REVERSE button and turned the spool back, pressed the PLAY button again. "Dynamometer fourteen hundred and sixty," Lionel's voice said.

Fischer made an impatient sound and reversed the spool again, waited, pushed the button for PLAY position. Edith heard Florence's voice saying, " Get out of this house before I kill you all." Fischer snarled and punched the REVERSE button again.

He switched to PLAY. "Here too long," Florence's voice said deeply, supposedly the voice of her Indian guide. "Not listen.

Not understand. Too much sick inside." There was a pause. Fischer leaned across the table tensely, unaware that he was doing so. "Limits," said the voice. "Nations. Terms. Not know what that mean. Extremes and limits. Terminations and extremities."

Edith flinched as Fischer cried out with a savage glee. He reversed the tape and played it again. "Extremes and limits.

Terminations and extremities." Fischer snatched up the tape recorder and held it high above his head in triumph. "She knew!"

he shouted. "She knew! She knew!" He flung the tape recorder across the room. Before it had crashed to the floor, he was running for the entry hall. "Come on!" he shouted.

Fischer sprinted across the entry hall and down the corridor, followed by Edith. With a howl like that of an attacking Indian, he flung open the chapel door and leaped inside. "Belasco!" he roared. "I'm here again! Destroy me if you can!" Edith ran in beside him. "Come on!" he yelled. "Both of us are here now! Finish us! Don't leave the job half done!"

Massive silence fell, and Edith heard how strangely Fischer breathed. "Come on," he mumbled to himself.

He shouted suddenly, " Come on, you lousy bastard! "

Edith's gaze leaped toward the altar. For a moment she could not believe her hearing. Then the sounds grew louder, clearer, unmistakable.

Approaching footsteps.

She drew back automatically, eyes fixed on the altar. The footsteps were louder now. She was unconscious of Fischer's hand restraining her. She gaped at the altar. The sounds were getting louder every second. The floor began to shake. It was as though an unseen giant were approaching.

Edith whimpered, pulling constantly at Fischer's grip. The footsteps were almost deafening now. She tried to lift her hands to shield her ears but could lift only one. The chapel seemed to shudder with the thundering noises coming closer, closer. She jerked back hard, her cry of panic engulfed by the titanic, crashing footsteps. Closer; closer. We're going to die, she thought.

We're going to die!

She screamed as a violent explosion filled the chapel; closed her eyes involuntarily.

Deathly silence made her open them.

She lurched back, gasping. Fischer held her. "Don't be afraid." His voice was taut with excitement. "This is a special moment, Edith. No one's ever seen his nibs before; not unless they were about to die, that is. Take a good look, Edith. Meet Emeric Belasco. ' The Roaring Giant.'"

Edith gaped at the figure.

Belasco was enormous; dressed in black, his features broad and white, framed by a jet-black beard. His teeth, bared in a savage grin, were those of a carnivore. His green eyes glowed with inner light. Edith had never seen such a malignant face in her life. Deep within the frozen dread she felt, she wondered why they weren't being murdered at this very moment.

"Tell me something, Belasco," Fischer said. Edith didn't know whether to feel reassurance or terror at the brazen insult in his tone. "Why didn't you ever go outside? Why did you 'eschew the sunlight,' as you put it? Didn't care for it?

" Or was it better hiding in the shadows? "

The figure started toward them. Released, Edith drew back quickly, horrified to see Fischer move forward.

"You walk with a labored tread, Belasco," Fischer said. "You dominate your movements at a cost, don't you?"

He shouted abruptly, fiercely, "Don't you, Belasco?"

Edith's mouth fell open.

Belasco had stopped moving. His features were ablaze with fury, but it seemed, somehow, a fury of frustration.

"Look at your lips, Belasco," Fischer said, still advancing. "Spastic pressure holds them together. Look at your hands.

Spastic tension holds them fisted at your sides. Why is that, Belasco? Is it because you're a fraud?"

His mocking cackle rang out in the chapel. "Roaring Giant!" he shouted. "You? My ass! You bullshit artist! You sawed-off little freak!"

Edith caught her breath. Belasco was retreating! She rubbed a shaking hand across her eyes. And it was true.

He did look smaller.

"Evil?" Fischer said. He moved at Belasco steadily, a look of ruthless animosity on his face. "You, you funny little bastard?"