The Soul Stealer

[…]switches, and from the centre of the box a thick silk-covered wire terminated in a gleaming apparatus of vulcanite and steel which the operator held in his hand. Proctor tucked a towel round his client’s neck, rubbed some sweet-smelling cream all over his face and turned a switch in the side of the pedestal. Immediately an electric motor began to purr inside, like a great cat, and the masseur brought the machine in his right hand, which looked not unlike a telephone receiver, down upon the skin of the subject’s face. What was happening was just this. A little vulcanite hammer at the […].