been molded upon a wire frame-work. I walked over to my instrument cabinet, and selected a surgical
saw and knives.
"Wait a minute, Doc." McCann had been following my movements. "You going to cut this thing apart?"
I nodded. He reached into his pocket, pulled out a heavy hunting knife. Before I could stop him, he had
brought its blade down like an ax across the neck of the Peters doll. It cut through it cleanly. He took the
head and twisted it. A wire snapped. He dropped the head on the table, and tossed the body to me. The
head rolled. It came to rest against the cord he had called the witch's ladder.
The head seemed to twist and to look up at us. I thought for an instant the eyes flared redly, the features
to contort, the malignancy intensify-as I had seen it intensify upon Peters' living face…I caught myself up,
angrily a trick of the light, of course.