MIRACLES, SCOURGE OF FLAME His form, sitting there at the desk--his face wearing an odd smile--had already begun to grow less distinct.

It seemed as if the light surrounding him had faded, though everywhere else in the cabin it still gleamed with its accustomed brilliance.

And as this light around him began to blur into a russet dimness, forming a sort of screen between him and visibility, the definition of his outlines began to melt away.
The Master still remained visible, as a whole; but the details of him were surely vanishing.

And as they vanished, faintly a high-light, a shadow, a bit of metal-work showed through the space where he sat.
He seemed a kind of dissolving cloud, through which now more and more clearly objects beyond him could be distinguished.

Impossible though this seemed, it was indubitably true.
As he disappeared, he kept speaking.