Doom of the House of Duryea
By EARL PEIRCE, JR.
[Transcriber Note: This etext was produced from Weird Tales October 1936. Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.]
A powerful story of stark horror, and the dreadful thing that happened in a lone house in the Maine woods.
Arthur Duryea, a young, handsome man, came to meet his father for the first time in twenty years. As he strode into the hotel lobby—long strides which had the spring of elastic in them—idle eyes lifted to appraise him, for he was an impressive figure, somehow grim with exaltation.
The desk clerk looked up with his habitual smile of expectation; how-do-you-do-Mr.-so-and-so, and his fingers strayed to the green fountain pen which stood in a holder on the desk.
Arthur Duryea cleared his throat, but still his voice was clogged and unsteady. To the clerk he said:
"I'm looking for my father, Doctor Henry Duryea. I understand he is registered here. He has recently arrived from Paris."