Motion Picture Classic (1923, 1924, 1926)

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CI ASSli • the tired weight of her faded hair, doubtless she, too, had been once as beautiful and brilliant as Fedora. God. that a man should have given up his life for that . . . ! "I shrugged her hand away, not unkindly, but significantly, and she knew that I had understood her message to me. and I knew that she knew. She smiled. It was a pitiful enough smile. And she drifted off into the flotsam of the streets, a Magdalene who had paused for a moment to dash some precious ointment at my feet. . . . "Well, and then I happened to go into the antiquarian's. "I had one thing left. One thing of value that had not gone to buy the hot red roses for Fedora. It was a scarab belonging to my father. "I was desultory enough when I went into the oddappearing shop. 1 had scant hope of more return than enough to buy a supper, a dash of absinthe, perhaps . . . Judge, then. 0 f my surprise when the old man turned several shades of green and yellow, began muttering in the Above: A bit of the riotous good time Raphael asked for as the first wish granted by the magic skin most mystic and agitated terms and finally begged my leave for him to' take it into his Master.' "Shortly thereafter the Master himself emerged, slowly. and with effort, from an inner chamber. He made obscure signs to me. which I took to mean to follow him, and not caring much whether 1 was being lured into a den of thieves and cutthroats or merely in the private asylum of some addled brain, 1 walked after the old man. "Oh, my friends, there was a great deal of talk, back in that illy lit. evilly smelling, unearthly chamber. Mystic talk of ancient things and lost keys and rites long buried in antiquity. But the gist of the whole was that the scarab I possessed was 'the key' to the Magic Skin. This splotched and unlovely affair hung upon a wall, secreted under a sliding panel. It hung directly beneath a painting of the Christ and had been so hanging, my friend the antiquarian told me. for age after long gone to dust. "On the skin was traced in hieroglyphics which the Ancient made out for me. these words : Left: With each wish the magic skin shrinks and when it has shriveled away to nothing, its owner dies (Fifty-seven)