Wondering and yet curious, Aymer did as he was bid. On the wall above a side-board was a large copy of Vinci’s “Last Supper.” In a few seconds the voice came again; and soon he found it came from the picture.
“I see you. I have read you. You have talent, perhaps genius; but your chin is weak. You know not how to fight men. You do not comprehend that men are beasts, and that it is necessary to be always fighting them. Still you are sane, you are young—eat, and get strong—you will do. Your name is familiar to me. Who was your father?”
Aymer told him. The voice replied—“I knew him—a clever man, and, excuse me, a fool. How came you to reside at World’s End?”
Aymer told him. “But who are you?” he said, eagerly. “Let me see you also.”
“Very well. Look at the dog under the table in the picture. Now.”
Aymer saw a slender white finger suddenly protruded through the body of the dog.
“But I only see your finger.”
“Well, that is me. Don’t you know that the hand is the man, and the claw is the beast? You can see by my finger that I have a hand.”
It was evident that the stranger was proud of his white hand and slender finger.
“Who on earth are you?” said Aymer, beginning to get excited. “If you do not answer me I will pull the picture down.”