Francis Worcester Doughty

Summary

Francis Worcester Doughty Mirrikh, or, A Woman from Mars… (1892)

Closing the drawer, Padma now led us to the altar and pointed to Maurice.
“Touch the face,” he said quietly, “You will find it like the other—yet he lives! ”
We both touched it. Here was the same clammy coldness, and my heart, which was beginning to feel a ray of hope, again sank in despair.
Could I doubt that Maurice was dead ? Could I credit the aged lama’s claim?
Meanwhile the flame in the dish was blazing away as brightly as ever, shooting upward in slender tongues of crimson light.
Source: Wikisource

Francis Worcester Doughty Mirrikh, or, A Woman from Mars… (1892)

I saw the big Buddha of Ballambong. We were in the old tower storm-bound. Mirrikh—that horrible Mirrikh—was forming as a whitish cloud at my feet; when suddenly—snap went the Doctor’s match; the flame flared up above the pipe bowl, and my visions vanished with the smoke.
“Now I can talk,” said the Doctor, satisfiedly. “Nothing like it when you are rattled. Wylde you have got us into a horrible mess.”
“I know it. I wish I might have died before I ever met Maurice.”
Source: Wikisource

Francis Worcester Doughty Mirrikh, or, A Woman from Mars… (1892)

Seizing the brazen rod he pointed down to to the surface of the black liquid in the dish which Walla’s shapely hands still clasped, seeming to trace upon its surface certain mystic signs.
“It is finished!” he cried. “May Buddha grant the spell all potency! May the spirits of heaven and earth rest with us! Behold!”
He waved the rod aloft, its polished surface glittering as though studded with gems as it flashed before the crimson flame.
“Look! Look!” cried the Doctor. “For heaven’s sake!
Source: Wikisource

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