Astounding Stories of Super-Science, March 1930 Read online

  The Soul Master

  _By Will Smith and R. J. Robbins_

  Desperately O'Hara plunged into Prof. Kell's mysterious mansion. For his friend Skip was the victim of the eccentric scientist's de-astralizing experiment, and faced a fate more hideous than death.

  _A terrific force was emanating from that devilish globeabove._]

  The train was slowing down for Keegan. A whistle from the locomotiveahead had warned the two alert young men in the smoker to that effect,and they arose to leave the train. Both were neatly and quietly dressed.One carried a medium-sized camera with the necessary tripod andaccessory satchel. The other carried no impediments of any sort. Bothwere smoking cigars, evidently not of expensive variety, judging by theunaromatic atmosphere thereabouts.

  "Can't see what Bland shipped us up to this one-horse dump for,"grumbled Skip Handlon, the one who carried the camera. He was theslighter of the two and perhaps half a head shorter than the other. "Doyou know anything about it?"

  "Not much," confessed the other as they alighted from the smoker. "All Ican tell you is that Bland sent for me early this morning, told me toget a story out of this Professor Kell and to drag you along. After weget there you are to do as judgment dictates. But I remember that theChief was specific as regards one thing. You are to get the proff's mug.Don't forget. The old fellow may growl and show fight, but it's up toyou to deliver the goods--or, in this case, get them. Don't depend on mefor help. I expect to have troubles of my own." Thus gloomed HoracePerry, star reporter for the Journal.

  "This Keegan place"--Handlon was using his eyes swiftly andcomprehensively--"isn't worth much. Can't see how it manages to evenrate a name. Some dump, all right!"

  "You said a couple mouthfuls."

  "How's the train service, if any?"

  "Rotten. Two trains a day." The other was anything but enthusiastic."We've a nice long wait for the next one, you can bet. Now, just add tothat a rough reception after we reach the old lion's lair and you get anice idea of what Bland expects from his men."

  * * * * *

  Handlon made a wry face at this. "The bird who first applied the words'Hard Boiled' to the Chief's monniker knew something."

  "You don't know the half of it," retorted Perry encouragingly. "Justwait and see what a beaut of a fit he can throw for _your_ benefit ifyou fail to do your stuff--and I don't mean maybe."

  Old Man Bland owned the Journal, hired and fired his crew and did hisown editing, with the help of as capable an office gang as could begotten together. It is quite possible that "Hard Boiled" Bland demandedmore from his men than any other editor ever has before or since.Nevertheless he got results, and none of his experienced underlings everkicked, for the pay was right. If a hapless scribe had the temerity toenter the editorial sanctum with a negative report, the almostinvariable reply had been a glare and a peremptory order, "Get thecopy."

  And get it they did. If a person refused an interview these cleverfellows generally succeeded in getting their information from the nextmost reliable source, and it arrived in print just the same.

  Of such a breed was Perry. Handlon, being a more recent acquisition tothe staff, was not yet especially aggressive in his work. On thisaccount the former took keen zest in scaring him into displaying a bitmore sand.

  * * * * *

  The train had disappeared around a bend and the two reporters feltthemselves marooned. Keegan, without question, was a most forlornlooking spot. A dismal shanty, much the worse for weather, stood besidethe track. In front, a few rotting planks proclaimed that once upon atime the place had boasted a real freight platform. Probably, back insome long-forgotten age, a station agent had also held forth in therickety shanty. A sign hung on each end of the crumbling structure onwhich could still be deciphered the legend "KEEGAN." On the oppositeside of the track was an old, disused siding. The only other feature ofinterest thereabouts was a well traveled country road which crossed thetracks near the shanty, wound sinuously over a rock-strewn hill andbecame lost in the mazes of an upland forest.

  There being no signboard of any kind to indicate their destination, thetwo, after a moment's hesitation, started off briskly in a chancedirection. The air was hot and sultry, and in the open spaces the sunbeat down mercilessly upon the two hapless ones. As they proceeded intothe depths of the forest they were shielded somewhat from the worst ofthe heat. Gradually upon their city-bred nostrils there stole the odorof conifers, accompanied by a myriad of other forest odors. Both sniffedthe air appreciatively.

  "This is sure the life," remarked Perry. "If I weren't so darn thirstynow...." He became lost in mournful thought.

  * * * * *

  A considerable time passed. The newspaper men trudged wearily alonguntil finally another bend brought them to the beginning of a steepdescent. The forest had thinned out to nothing.

  "Seems to me I smell smoke," blurted out Handlon suddenly. "Must be thatwe are approaching the old party's lair. Remember? Bland said thathe--"

  "Uh huh!" the other grunted, almost inaudibly. Now that they seemed tobe arriving at their destination something had occurred to him. He hadfished from his pocket a sheaf of clippings and was perusing themintently. "Bland said, 'Get the copy'," he muttered irrelevantly andhalf to himself.

  The clippings all related directly to Professor Kell or to happeningslocal to Keegan. Some were of peculiar interest. The first one washeadlined thus:

  MYSTERIOUS DISAPPEARANCE OF ROBERT MANION AND DAUGHTER STILL UNSOLVED

  The piece contained a description of the missing man, a fairlyprosperous banker who had been seen four days previously driving throughKeegan in a small roadster, and one of the girl, who was in the car withhim. It told that the banker and his daughter were last seen by a farmernamed Willetts who lived in a shack on the East Keegan road, fleeingbefore a bad thunder storm. He believed the pair were trying to make theKell mansion ahead of the rain. Nothing more of the Manions or their carhad been seen, and their personal effects remained at their hotel in anearby village unclaimed. The heavy rain had of course effectuallyobliterated all wheel tracks.

  Another clipping was fairly lengthy, but Perry glanced only at theheadlines:

  KELL STILL CARRYING ON HIS STRANGE EXPERIMENTS

  Has Long Been Known to Have Fantastic Theories. Refuses to Divulge Exact Methods Employed, or Nature of Results

  Still another appeared to be an excerpt from an article in anagricultural paper. It read:

  A prize bull belonging to Alton Shepard, a Keegan cattle breeder, has created considerable sensation by running amuck in a most peculiar manner. While seemingly more intelligent than heretofore, it has developed characteristics known to be utterly alien to this type of animal.

  Perhaps the most noteworthy feature of the case is the refusal of the animal to eat its accustomed food. Instead it now consumes enormous quantities of meat. The terrific bellow of the animal's voice has also undergone a marked change, now resembling nothing earthly, although some have remarked that it could be likened to the bay of an enormous hound. Some of its later actions have seemingly added further canine attributes, which make the matter all the more mystifying. Veterinaries are asking why this animal should chase automobiles, and why it should carry bones in its mouth and try to bury them!

  The last one read in part:

  Professor Kell has been questioned by authorities at Keegan relative to the disappearance there last Tuesday of Robert Manion and his daughter. Kell seemed unable to furnish clues of any value, but officials are not entirely satisfied with the man's attitude toward the questions.

  Somewhat bewildered by these apparently unrelated items, the reporterremained lost in thought for quite a space, the while he endeavored tomap out his course of action when he should meet the redoubtableProfessor. That many of the weird occurrences could be traced in someway to the latter's
door had evidently occurred to Bland. Furthermore,the Old Man relied implicitly upon Perry to get results.

  It must be said that for once the star reporter was not overlyenthusiastic with the assignment. Certain rumors aside from theclippings in his hand had produced in his mind a feeling of uneasiness.So far as his personal preference was concerned he would have been wellsatisfied if some cub reporter had been given the job. Try as he would,however, he could offer no tangible reason for the sudden wariness.

  He was aroused from his absorption by his companion.

  "Thought I smelled smoke a while back, and I was right. That's thehouse up in the edge of the pines. Deep grounds in front and all gone toseed; fits the description exactly. Thank Heaven we struck off from thestation in the right direction. This stroll has been long enough. Comeout of it and let's get this job finished."

  Suiting the action to the words Handlon started off at a brisk pace downthe hill, followed at a more moderate rate by Perry. At length they camewithin full sight of the grounds. Extending for a considerable distancebefore them and enclosing a large tract of land now well covered withlush grass, was a formidable looking wall. In former days a gloriousmantle of ivy had covered the rough stones; but now there was littleleft, and what there was looked pitifully decrepit. They continued theirprogress along this barrier, finally coming upon a huge iron gate nowmuch the worse for rust. It stood wide open.

  * * * * *

  The road up to the house had long since become overgrown with rank grassand weeds. Faintly traceable through the mass of green could be seen arough footpath which the two followed carefully. They met no one. Asthey approached the night of black pines the mass of the old mansionbegan to loom up before them, grim and forbidding.

  Instinctively both shivered. The silence of the place was complete andof an uncannily tangible quality. Nervously they looked about them.

  "How do you like it, Skip?" The words from Perry's previously silentlips broke upon the stillness like a thunderclap. The other started.

  "I should hate to die in it," Handlon answered solemnly. "I'll bet theold joint is haunted. Nobody but a lunatic would ever live in it."

  "I get a good deal the same impression myself," said Perry. "I don'twonder that Bland sent two of us to cover the job."

  As he spoke he mounted a flight of steps to a tumbledown veranda. Therewas no sign of a door bell on the weather-beaten portal, but an ancientknocker of bronze hanging forlornly before him seemed to suggest a meansof attracting attention. He raised it and rapped smartly.

  * * * * *

  No answer.

  Possessing all the attributes of the conventional reporter and a fewadditional ones, Perry did not allow himself to become disheartened, butmerely repeated his summons, this time with more vim.

  "Well, Horace," grinned Handlon, "it does look as if we were not so verywelcome here. However, seems to me if you were to pick up that piece ofdead limb and do some real knocking with it.... The dear Professor maybe deaf, you know, or maybe he's--"

  "Skip, my boy, I don't know as we ought to go in right now after all. Doyou realize it will soon be dark?"

  "To tell you the truth, Horace, I'm not stuck on this assignment either.And I feel that after dark I should like it even less, somehow. But,gee, the Old Man...."

  "Oh, I'm not thinking of quitting on the job. We don't do that on theJournal." Perry smiled paternally at the photographer. Could it be hehad purposely raised the other's hopes in order to chaff him some more?"But I was thinking that it might be a good idea to look about theoutbuildings a bit while we have a little daylight. Eh?"

  Handlon looked disappointed, but nodded gamely. He delayed only longenough to deposit his camera and traps behind a grossly overgrownhydrangea by the steps, then, with a resigned air, declared himselfready to follow wherever the other might lead.

  Perry elected to explore the barn first. This was a depressing old pile,unpainted in years, with what had once been stout doors now swinging andbumping in the light breeze. As the two men drew nearer, thisbreeze--which seemed to sigh through the place at will--brought foulodors that told them the place was at least not tenantless. In sometrepidation they stepped inside and stood blinking in the halfdarkness.

  "Pretty Polly!"

  "Good God! What was that?" Handlon whispered. He knew it was no parrot'svoice. This was a far deeper sound than that, a sound louder thananything a parrot's throat could produce. It came from the direction ofa ruinous stall over near a cobwebbed window. As Perry started fearfullytoward this, there issued from it a curious scraping sound, followed bya fall that shook the floor, and a threshing as of hoofs. Now the greatvoice could be heard again, this time uttering what sounded strangelylike oaths roared out in a foreign tongue. Yet when the newspaper menreached the stall they found it occupied only by a large mule.

  * * * * *

  The animal was lying on its side, its feet scraping feebly against theside of the stall. The heaving, foam-flecked body was a mass of hideousbruises, some of which were bleeding profusely. The creature seemed tobe in the last stage of exhaustion, lying with lips drawn back and eyesclosed. Beneath it and scattered all over the stall floor was a thicklayer of some whitish seeds.

  "That's--why that's sunflower seed, Horace!" Handlon almost whimpered."And look! Look in that crib! It's full of the same stuff! Where's thehay, Horace? Does this thing--"

  He was interrupted by a mighty movement of the beast--a threshing thatnearly blinded the men in the cloud of bloodstained seeds it raised.With something between a curse and a sob, the mule lunged at its crib asif attempting to get bodily into it. But no: it was only trying to perchon its edge! Now it had succeeded. The ungainly beast hung there asecond, two, three. From its uplifted throat issued that usuallyinnocuous phrase, a phrase now a thing of delirious horror:

  "Pretty Polly!"

  With a crash the tortured creature fell to the floor, to lie theregasping and moaning.

  Skip Handlon left that barn. Perry retained just enough wit to do whathe should have done the instant he first saw the animal. He whipped outhis automatic and fired one merciful shot. Then he too started for theoutside. He arrived in the yard perhaps ten seconds behind Handlon.

  "Good Heavens, Perry," gibbered Handlon. "I'm not going to stay aroundthis place another minute. Just let me find where I left that sufferingcamera, that's all I ask."

  "Easy now." Perry laid a hand on his companion's shoulder. "I guesswe're up against something pretty fierce here, but we're going to see itthrough, and you know it. So let's cut out the flight talk and go raisethe Professor."

  Handlon tried earnestly to don a look of determination. If Perry was seton staying here the least he could do was stay with him. However, couldPerry have foreseen the events which were to entangle them, he probablywould have led the race to the gate. As it was, he grasped a stick andmarched bravely up toward the front door.

  * * * * *

  A sudden commotion behind him caused him to wheel sharply around.Simultaneously a yell burst from Handlon.

  "Look out, Horace!"

  What he saw almost froze the blood in his veins. From a tumbledown coachhouse had issued an enormous wolf-hound which was now almost upon then,eyes flaming, fangs gleaming horribly.

  So unexpected was the attack that both men stood rooted in their tracks.The next moment the charging brute was upon them, and had bowledHandlon off his equilibrium as if he were a child. The unfortunatephotographer made a desperate attempt to prevent injury to his preciouscamera, which he had but a moment earlier succeeded in retrieving, andin doing so fell rather violently to the ground. Every moment heexpected to feel the powerful jaws crunch his throat, and he made noeffort to rise. For several seconds he remained thus, until he couldendure the suspense no longer. He glanced around only to see Perry,staring open-mouthed at the animal which had so frightened them.Apparently it had forgotten the presence o
f the two men.

  Handlon regained his feet rather awkwardly, the while keeping a watchfuleye on the beast, of whose uncertain temper he was by now fully aware.In an undertone he addressed his companion.

  "What do you make of it?" he wanted to know. "Did the critter biteyou?"

  "No. That's the queer part of it. Neither did he bite you, if you wereto think it over a minute. Just put his nose down and _rammed_ you, headon."

  The photographer was flabbergasted. Involuntarily his gaze stole againin the direction of the offending brute.

  "What on earth--" he began. "Is he sharpening his teeth on a rockpreparatory to another attack upon us? Or--What the deuce _is_ hedoing?"

  "If you ask me," came astonishingly from the watchful Perry, "he'seating grass, which is my idea of something damn foolish for a perfectlynormal hound, genus lupo, to be--Look out!"

  * * * * *

  The animal, as if suddenly remembering the presence of the men, suddenlycharged at them again, head down, eyes blazing. As before, it made noeffort to bite. Though both men were somewhat disconcerted by the greatbrute they held their ground, and when it presented the opportunity theolder reporter planted a terrific kick to the flank which sent theanimal whimpering back to its shed behind.

  "Score one," breathed Handlon. "If we--" At a sudden grating soundoverhead, he stopped.

  Both turned to face the threatening muzzle of an ancient blunderbuss.Behind it was an irate countenance, nearly covered by an unclipped beardof a dirty gray color. In the eyes now glaring at them malevolentlythrough heavily concaved spectacles they read hate unutterable. Thebarrel of the blunderbuss swung slightly as it covered alternately oneand the other. Both sensed that the finger even now tightening on thetrigger would not hesitate unduly. Being more or less hardened torebuffs of all kinds in the pursuance of their calling, the reportersdid not hesitate in stating their purpose.

  "What?" yelled the old man. "You dare to invade my grounds and disturbme at my labors for such a reason? Reporters! My scientific researchwork is not for publicity, sirs; and futhermore I want it understoodthat I am not to be dragged from my laboratory again for the purpose ofentertaining you or any others of your ilk. Get away!"

  Without further ado the window was slammed down, a shutter closed on theinside, and once more the silence of the dead descended upon the spot.The two men grinned ruefully at each other, Handlon finally breaking thestillness.

  "My idea of the world's original one-sided conversation. We simplydidn't talk--and yet we're supposed to be reporters. You've got to handit to the Proff, Horace, for the beautiful rock-crusher he just handedus."

  "You didn't think we had anything easy, did you?" said Perry irritably."He'll change his tune presently, when--"

  * * * * *

  Handlon's jaw dropped. "You don't mean you're going to take any morechances! Would you rouse him again after the way he treated us withthat gun? Besides, the train...."

  Perry bent a scathing glance at his companion. "What on earth has thetrain to do with our getting the Professor's confession of crime orwhatever he has to offer? You evidently don't know Bland--much. I deducethat a lot of my sweetness has been wasted on the desert air. Once more,let me assure you that if you propose to go back without the Proff's mugon one of those plates you might as well mail your resignation from_here_. Get me?"

  The other wilted.

  "I wonder," Perry ruminated as he stared in the direction of the shedwherein the canine monstrosity had disappeared. "Do you suppose that youcan get a snap of the old boy's mug if I can get him to the windowagain? If you can do that, just leave the rest to me. I've handled thesecrusty birds before. What say?"

  "Go as far as you like." The photographer was once more grinning as heunslung his camera and carefully adjusted a plate in place. Everythingat last to his satisfaction he gripped flash pan and bulb.

  "I'm going to make some racket now," announced Perry grimly. "If Kellshows up, work fast. He may shoot at you, but don't get excited. It'salmost dark, so his aim _might_ be poor."

  At this suggestion his companion showed signs of panic, but the otheraffected not to notice this. There came a deafening hullaballoo as Perrybeat a terrific tattoo on the ancient door. Followed a deep silence,while Perry leaped back to stand in front of Skip and his camera. Afterperhaps a full minute's wait he once more opened up his bombardment, tojump quickly back to the camera as before. This time he had bettersuccess. The window was again opened and the muzzle of the blunderbussput in its appearance. Handlon stood close behind Perry as he silentlyswung the camera into a more favorable position for action. The face atthe window was purple with wrath.

  "You damned pests! Leave my grounds at once or I shall call my hound andset him upon you. And when--"

  * * * * *

  Crack! Flash! Click! Perry had made a sudden sidewise movement asHandlon went into action.

  "Much obliged, Professor," said Perry politely. "Your pose with that oldcannon is going to be very effective from the front page. The write-upwill doubtless be interesting too. Probably the story won't be quite soaccurate as it would be had you told it to us yourself; but we shall getas many of the details from the natives hereabouts as we can. Good-dayto you, sir!"

  Motioning to the other he turned on his heel and started down thedriveway. It was an old trick, and for a long moment of suspense healmost feared that it would fail. Another moment--

  "Wait!" The quavering voice of the irascible old villain had lost someof its malice. "Come back here a minute."

  With simulated reluctance the two slowly retraced their steps. "Is theresomething else, sir?"

  "Perhaps...." The old man hesitated, as if pondering upon his words."Perhaps if you care to step in I can be of assistance to you after all.It occurs to me that possibly I have been too abrupt with you."

  "I am very glad that you have decided to cooperate with us, ProfessorKell," answered the reporter heartily, as they ascended the steps. Theold man's head disappeared from the window and shortly the sound offootsteps inside told of his approach. Finally the oaken door swungopen, and they were silently ushered into the musty smelling hallway.Though outwardly accepting the Professor's suddenly pacific attitude,Perry made up his mind to be on his guard.

  * * * * *

  As they entered what had evidently been the parlor in bygone days, anoppressive, heavy odor smote their nostrils, telling of age-old carpetsand of draperies allowed to decay unnoticed. On the walls hung severalantique prints, a poorly executed crayon portrait of a person doubtlessan ancestor of the present Kell, and one or two paintings done in oil,now badly cracked and stained. Everything gave the impression of an eralong since departed, and the two men felt vaguely out of place. Theirhost led them to a pair of dilapidated chairs, which they acceptedgratefully. The ride to Keegan after a hard day's work had not tended toimprove their spirits.

  "Now to business." Perry went straight to the point, desiring to get theinterview over as soon as possible. "We have heard indirectly of varioushappenings in this vicinity which many think have some connection withyour scientific experiments. Any statement you may care to make to us inregard to these happenings will be greatly appreciated by my paper.Inasmuch as what little has already been printed is probably of anerroneous nature, we believe it will be in your own best interest togive us as complete data as possible." Here he became slightlyhistrionic. "Of course we do not allow ourselves to take the storiestold by the local inhabitants too literally, as such persons are tooliable to exaggerate, but we must assume that some of these stories havepartial basis in fact. Any information relative to your scientific work,incidentally, will make good copy for us also."

  Perry gazed steadily at the patriarch as he spoke. For a moment, acrafty expression passed over the old man's face, but as suddenly itdisappeared. Evidently he had arrived at a decision.

  "Come with me," he wheezed.

 
* * * * *

  The two newspaper men exchanged swift glances, the same thought in themind of each. Were they about to be led into a trap? If the old man'sshady reputation was at all deserved they would do well to be wary.Perry thought swiftly of the clippings he had read and of what gossip hehad heard, then glanced once more in the direction of Handlon. Thatworthy was smiling meaningly and had already arisen to follow theProfessor. Reluctantly Perry got to his feet and the three proceeded toclimb a rickety stairway to the third floor. The guide turned at thehead of the stairs and entered a long dark corridor. Here the floor wascovered with a thick carpet which, as they trod upon it, gave forth notthe slightest sound.

  The hall gave upon several rooms, all dark and gloomy and giving thesame dismal impression of long disuse. How could the savant endure sucha depressing abode! The accumulation of dust and cobwebs in these longforgotten chambers, the general evidence of decay--all told of possiblehorrors ahead. They became wary.

  But they were not wary enough!

  The uncouth figure ahead of them had stopped and was fumbling with thelock of an ancient door. Instinctively Perry noted that it was of greatthickness and of heavy oak. Now the Professor had it open and wasmotioning for them to enter. Handlon started forward eagerly, buthurriedly drew back as he felt the grip of the other reporter's hand onhis arm.

  "Get back, you fool!" The words were hissed into the ear of theincautious one. Then, to the Professor, Perry observed: "If you have noobjection we would prefer that you precede us."

  A look of insane fury leaped to the face of the old man, lingered but aninstant and was gone. Though the expression was but momentary, both menhad seen, and seeing had realized their danger.

  * * * * *

  They followed him into the chamber, which was soon illumined fitfully bya smoky kerosene lamp. Both took a rapid survey of the place.Conceivably it might have been the scene of scientific experiments, butits aspect surely belied such a supposition. The average imaginationwould instantly pronounce it the abode of a maniac, or the lair of analchemist. Again, that it might be the laboratory of an extremelyslovenly veterinary was suggested by the several filthy cages to be seenresting against the wall. All of these were unoccupied except one in adark corner, from which issued a sound of contented purring, evidentlytelling of some well-satisfied cat.

  The air was close and foul, being heavy with the odor of musty, decayingdrugs. In every possible niche and cranny the omnipresent dust hadsettled in a uniform sheen of gray which showed but few signs of recentdisturbance.

  "Here, gentlemen," their host was saying, "is where I carry on my work.It is rather gloomy here after dark, but then I do not spend much timehere during the night. I have decided to acquaint you with some of thedetails of one or two of my experiments. Doubtless you will find theminteresting."

  While speaking he had, mechanically it seemed, reached for a glasshumidor in which were perhaps a dozen cigars. Silently he selected oneand extended the rest to the two visitors.

  After all three had puffed for a moment at the weeds, the old man beganto talk, rapidly it seemed to them. Perry from time to time took notes,as the old man proceeded, an expression of utter amazement graduallyoverspreading his face. Handlon pulled away contentedly at his cigar,and on his features there grew an almost ludicrous expression ofwell-being. Was the simple photographer so completely at ease that hehad at length forsaken all thought of possible danger?

  As Professor Kell talked on he seemed to warm to his subject. At the endof five minutes he began uncovering a peculiar apparatus which hadrested beneath the massive old table before which they were sitting. Thetwo men caught the flash of light on glass, and a jumble of coiled wiresbecame visible.

  * * * * *

  Was the air in the laboratory getting unbearably close? Or was the queerleaden feeling that had taken possession of Perry's lungs but anindication of his overpowering weariness? He felt a steadily increasingirritation, as if for some strange reason he suddenly resented the wordsof their host, which seemed to be pouring out in an endless stream. Thecigar had, paradoxically, an oddly soothing quality, and he puffed awayin silence.

  Why had the room suddenly taken on so hazy an aspect? Why did Handlongrin in that idiotic manner? And the Professor ... he was gettingfarther and farther away ... that perfecto ... or was it an El Cabbajo?What was the old archfiend doing to him anyhow?... Why was he laughingand leering at them so horribly?... Confound it all ... that cigar ...where was it?... Just one more puff....

  Blindly he groped for the missing weed, becoming aware of a cackle ofamusement nearby. Professor Kell was standing near the spot where he hadfallen and now began prodding him contemptuously with his toe.

  "Fools!" he was saying. "You thought to interfere with my program. Butyou are in my power and you have no hope of escape. I am unexpectedlyprovided with more subjects for my experiments. You will...." His wordsbecame hazy and unintelligible, for the hapless reporter was driftingoff into a numb oblivion. He had long since lost the power to move amuscle. Out of the corner of an eye, just before he lost consciousnessaltogether, he perceived Handlon lying upon the floor still puffing atthe fateful drugged cigar.

  * * * * *

  Eons passed.

  To the reporter came a vision of a throbbing, glaring inferno, whereinhe was shaken and tossed by terrific forces. His very vital essenceseemed to respond to a mighty vibration. Now he was but a part of someterrific chaos. Dimly he became aware of another being with whom he mustcontend. Now he was in a death struggle, and to his horror he foundhimself being slowly but surely overpowered. A demoniac grin played uponthe features of the other as he forced the reporter to his knees. It wasHandlon.... Once more he was sinking into soft oblivion, the while ahorrid miasma assailed his nostrils. He was nothing....

  * * * * *

  Slowly, and with infinite effort, Perry felt himself returning toconsciousness, though he had no clear conception of his surroundings.His brain was as yet but a whirling vortex of confused sounds, colorsand--yes, odors. A temporary rift came in the mental cloud whichfettered his faculties, and things began to take definite shape. Hebecame aware that he was lying upon his back at some elevation from thefloor. Again the cloudy incubus closed in and he knew no more.

  When he finally recovered the use of his faculties it was to discoverhimself the possessor of a violent headache. The pain came in suchfearsome throbs that it was well nigh unendurable. The lamp stillsputtered dimly where the professor had left it. At the moment it was onthe point of going out altogether. The reporter noticed this, and overhim stole a sense of panic. What if the light should fail altogether,leaving him lying in the dark in this frightful place! Still dizzy andsick, he managed to rise upon his elbows enough to complete a survey ofthe room. He was still in the laboratory of Professor Kell, but thatworthy had disappeared. Of Handlon there was no sign. The mysteriousapparatus, of which he now had but a vague remembrance, also hadvanished.

  His thoughts became confused again, and wearily he passed a hand overhis brow in the effort to collect all of his faculties. The lamp beganto sputter, arousing him to action. Desperately he fought against thebenumbing sensation that was even again stealing over him. Gradually hegained the ascendancy. He struggled dizzily to his feet and took a fewtentative steps.

  Where was Handlon? He decided his friend had probably recovered from thedrug first and was gone, possibly to get a doctor for him, Perry.However, he must make some search to determine if Skip had really leftthe premises.

  As he walked through the open door the lamp in his hand gave a lastdespairing flicker and went out. From there he was forced to grope hisway down the dark hall to the stairs. Just how he reached the lowerfloor he was never able to remember, for as yet all the effect of thepowerful drug had not worn off. He had a dim recollection of beingthankful to the ancestor of Kell who had provided such thick carpets i
nthese halls. Thanks to them his footsteps had been noiseless, at anyrate.

  What was Kell's real object in giving them those drugged cigars? hewondered. How long had they been under the influence of the lethalstuff? Surely several hours. Upon glancing through a hall window hefound that outside was the blackness of midnight.

  * * * * *

  Cautiously he explored the desolate chambers on the ground floor: thekitchen--where it could be plainly seen that cooking of a sort had beendone--the barn, and woodshed. Not a living thing could he find, not eventhe huge wolf-hound which had attacked them in so strange a manner thatafternoon.

  By now he was quite frankly worried on Handlon's account. At thatmoment, could he have known the actual fate that had overtaken hiscompanion, it is quite probable he would have gone mad. He stumbledback and into the dark front hall, shouting his friend's name. Theresponse was a hollow echo, and once or twice he thought he heard theghost of a mocking chuckle.

  At length he gave up the search and started for the door, intent nowonly upon flight from the accursed place. He would report the wholething to the office and let Bland do what he pleased about it. DoubtlessHandlon had already left. Then he stumbled over Handlon's camera.Evidently the Professor had neglected to take possession of it. Thatmust be rescued, at all costs. He picked it up and felt the exposedplate still inside. He started again for the door.

  What little light there was faded out and he felt stealing over him ahorrid sensation of weakness. Again came a period of agony during whichhe felt the grip of unseen forces. Once more it seemed that he wasengaged in mortal strife with Skip Handlon. Malevolently Handlon glaredat him as he endeavored with all his strength to overcome Perry. Thistime, however, the latter seemed to have more strength and resisted theattack for what must have been hours. Finally the other drew awaybaffled.

  At this the mental incubus surrounding Perry's faculties broke. Dimly hebecame aware of a grinding noise nearby and a constant lurching of hisbody. At length his vision cleared sufficiently to enable him todiscover the cause of the peculiar sensations.

  He was in a railroad coach!

  * * * * *

  He took a rapid glance around and noted a drummer sitting in the seatacross the aisle, staring curiously at him. With an effort Perry assumedan inscrutable expression and determined to stare the other out ofcountenance. Reluctantly the man glanced away, and after a moment, underPerry's stony gaze, he suddenly arose and chose a new seat in front ofthe car. Perry took to the solace of a cigarette and stared out at theflying telegraph poles. From time to time he noted familiar landmarks.The train had evidently left Keegan far behind and was already nearlyinto the home town.

  For the balance of the ride the reporter experienced pure nightmare. Thepeculiar sensations of dizziness, accompanied by frightful periods ofinsensibility, kept recurring, now, however, not lasting more than tenor fifteen minutes at a time. At such times as he was conscious he foundopportunity to wonder in an abstracted sort of way how he had evermanaged to get on the train and pay his fare, which must have been acash one, without arousing the conductor's suspicions. Discovery of arebate in his pocket proved that he must have done so, however. Thebusiness of leaving the train and getting to the office has always beenan unknown chapter in Perry's life.

  He came out of one of his mental fogs to find himself seated in theprivate editorial sanctum of the Journal. Evidently he had just arrived.Bland, a thick-set man with the jaw of a bulldog, was eyeing himintently.

  "Well! Any report to make?" The question was crisp.

  The reporter passed a hand across his perspiring forehead. "Yes, I guessso. I--er--that is--you see--"

  "Where's Handlon? What happened to you? You act as if you were drunk."Bland was not in an amiable mood.

  "Search me," Perry managed to respond. "If Skip isn't here old man Kellmust have done for him. I came back alone."

  "You wha-a-t?" the irate editor fairly roared, half rising from hischair. "Tell me exactly what happened and get ready to go back there onthe next train. Or--no, on second thoughts you'd better go to bed. Youlook all used up. Handlon may be dead or dying at this minute. That Kellcould do anything." He pressed the button on his desk.

  "Johnny," he said to the office boy, "get O'Hara in here on the doublequick and tell him to bring along his hat and coat."

  * * * * *

  He turned again to Perry, who was gazing nervously at the door. "Nowtell me everything that happened and make it fast," he ordered.

  The reporter complied, omitting nothing except the little matter of hismental lapses at the house of Professor Kell and later on the train. Theincident of the drugged cigars seemed to interest the Old Man hugely,and Perry did not forget to play up Handlon's exploits in getting thepicture of the Professor. All through the recital he was in a sweat forfear that he might have a recurrence of one of his brain spells and thatBland would become cognizant of it. When would the Chief finish and lethim escape from the office? Desperately he fought to prevent the numbingsensation from overcoming him. All that kept him from finally fleeingthe place in panic was the entrance of Jimmie O'Hara.

  Slight, wiry and efficient looking, this individual was a specimen ofthe perfect Journal reporter. This is saying a good deal, for the newscrew and editorial force of the paper were a carefully selected body ofmen indeed. Bland never hired a man unless experience had endowed himwith some unusual qualification. Most of them could write up a storywith realistic exactitude, being able in most cases to supply detailsgleaned from actual experience in one walk of life or another.

  * * * * *

  Of this redoubtable crew probably the queerest was Jimmie O'Hara. Jimmiehad just finished a sentence in the "pen" for safe-cracking at the timehe landed the job with the Journal. Theoretically all men should haveshunned him on account of his jailbird taint. Not so Bland. The Chiefwas independent in his ideas on the eternal fitness of things andallowed none of the ordinary conventions of humanity to influence hisdecisions. So Jimmie became one of the staff and worked hard to justifyBland in hiring him. His former profession gave him valuable sidelightsupon crime stories of all kinds, and he was almost invariably picked asthe man to write these up for the columns.

  "Jimmie," said the Chief, "we have need of an experienced strong-arm manand all around second story worker. You are the only man on the forcewho fills the bill for this job. Perry here has just returned fromKeegan, where I sent him to interview Professor Kell. Skip Handlon wentwith him, but failed to return. We want to know what happened to Skip.That is your job. _Get Handlon!_ If he is dead let me know by longdistance phone and I'll have a couple of headquarters men down there ina hurry. Get a good fast car and don't waste any time. That's all."

  O'Hara stopped long enough to get the location of Professor Kell's placefixed in his mind, then abruptly departed. Bland gazed after himmusingly.

  "The Professor will have some job to put anything over on that bird," hesaid grimly. "Personally, I'm sorry for the old soul."

  * * * * *

  After leaving the Journal office Jimmie proceeded directly to a certainstable where he kept his private car. It was a long, low speedster witha powerful engine, and capable of eating up distance. It was the work ofa minute to touch the starter and back out of the yard.

  For the next hour he held the wheel grimly while the car roared over theseventy-odd miles to Keegan. Would he be in time? At last a sign posttold him that he was within five miles of the railroad crossing atKeegan. Now the headlights were picking out the black outlines of thefreight shed, and the next moment he had swept over the tracks. Theluminous dial on his wrist watch notified him that he had been on theroad but little over an hour, but his spirits somehow refused to revivewith the knowledge.

  About a mile beyond the station he drove the car into a dark wood roadand parked it, turning off all lights. The rest of the way to theProfess
or's mansion he did on foot. Rather than approach from the frontof the grounds he nimbly climbed a stone wall and, crossing a field ortwo, entered the stretch of woods which extended just behind themansion. His pocket flashlight here came into use, and once or twice hegave a reassuring pat to a rear pocket where bulged a heavy Coltautomatic.

  * * * * *

  What was that? He had approached very close to the rear of the housenow. No lights were visible as yet, but unless he was greatly mistakenhe had heard a muffled scream. He stopped in his tracks and listenedintently. Again it came, this time with a blood-curdling cadence endingin what he would have sworn was a choking sob.

  The little job of getting the old-fashioned rear window open was a merenothing to the experienced O'Hara, and in a moment he was inside thehouse. His feet struck soft carpet. Catlike, he stepped to one side inorder to prevent any hidden eyes from perceiving his form silhouetted inthe dim light of the open window. He dared not use his flashlight forfear that the circle of light would betray his position, thus making himan excellent target for possible bullets. Following the wall closely hemanaged to circle the room without mishap. His searching fingers finallycame in contact with a door frame, and he breathed a sigh of relief.Here there was nothing to bar his progress except some moth-eatenportieres. These he brushed aside.

  The room which he now entered was probably the same into which theProfessor had ushered Handlon and Perry the day before. There beingstill no sign of life about, the reporter decided to throw caution tothe winds. He brought his flash into play. Quickly casting the powerfulbeam around the chamber he examined the place with an all-searchingglance.

  * * * * *

  Nothing.

  With a stifled oath he turned his attention to the other rooms in theimmediate vicinity. The brilliant light revealed not the slightest traceof a person, living or dead. The sound must have come from the secondstory or from the cellar. He decided on the upper floor.

  Feverish with impatience because of the valuable time he had alreadylost, he bounded up the heavily carpeted stairs two at a time. Now tohis keen ears came certain faint sounds which told him that he was onthe right track. Before him extended a long, dusty hall, terminating ina single heavy door. Several other doors opened at intervals along thecorridor. One or two of these were open, and he threw the beam from hisflash hastily into one after another of them. He saw only dusty andmildewed chamber furnishings of an ancient massive style.

  Suddenly he pricked up his ears.

  The door ahead of him was creaking slowly open. Instantly he extinguishedhis torch and leaped into the nearest room. Whoever was opening that enddoor was carrying a lamp. What if the Professor had accomplices whomight discover him and overpower him by force of numbers! O'Hara drew theautomatic from his pocket, deriving a comforting assurance from thefeel of the cold steel. Here was something no man could resist could hebut get it into action. The light was now nearly abreast of his door, andfor a sickening instant he thought the prowler was coming into the room.He held his breath. Now the lamp was at the open door, and now it wasquickly withdrawn. After a breathless second he tip-toed forward andpeered cautiously down the hallway.

  About here it was that James O'Hara began to realize that this wasgoing to be a horrible night indeed. He had wondered why the progress ofthe light had been so deathly slow. Now he knew why, by reason of whathe saw--and what he saw made him feel rather sick. The man with thelantern was quite plainly Professor Kell, bent nearly double with theweight of a grotesquely big thing on his back, a thing that flung a dim,contorted shadow on the ceiling. And that thing was a dead man.

  * * * * *

  A corpse it was--the attitude proved that. With a numb relief O'Hararealized it was not the body of Skip Handlon. This had been a muchlarger man than Skip, and the clothing was different from anythingHandlon had worn.

  The light was now disappearing down the stairway. For a moment O'Harafelt undecided as to his next move. Should he follow Kell and hisburden, or should he not take advantage of this fine opportunity tocontinue his search of the upper story? That scream still rang in hisears; there had been a very evident feminine quality in it, and theremembrance of that fact reproached him. Had he been guilty of mincingdaintily about in this old house while a woman was being done to deathunder his nose, when a little bolder action on his part might have savedher?

  Stepping once more into the hall he advanced to the door just closedbehind the Professor and tried it, only to find it locked. Out of apocket came several articles best known to the "profession"--a piece ofstiff wire, a skeleton key and other paraphernalia calculated to reducethe obstinate mechanism to submission. For a minute, two, three, heworked at the ancient lock; then, without a creak, the door swung open.A touch of oil to the hinges had insured their silence. Jimmie O'Harabelieved in being artistic in his work, especially when it came to finepoints, and he was.

  * * * * *

  He found himself in the same room where the drugged cigars had beenproved the undoing of Handlon and Perry. In order not to alarm theProfessor unduly by chance noises and perhaps invite a surprise attackupon himself, O'Hara closed the laboratory door behind him and let thelock spring again. Hastily he made search of the place. No trace of themissing reporter could he find, except two half-consumed cigars in acorner whence the Professor had impatiently kicked them.

  On the big table in the center of the room, however, was an object whichexcited his interest. It was apparently nothing more or less than agiant Crookes tube, connected in some way with a complicated mechanismcontained in a wooden cabinet under the table. Probably this apparatuswas concerned in the Professor's weird experiments which had so arousedthe countryside. He studied it curiously, his eyes for the moment closedin thought, until a slight sound somewhere near at hand caused him toopen them wide. Was the Kell returning?

  Quickly he extinguished the lamp and glided to a nearby door, thinkingto secrete himself here, and take Kell by surprise. To his consternationthe door swung inward at a touch. He prepared instinctively for battleagainst any foe who might present himself. For a moment he held himselftaut; then, nothing of an alarming nature having happened, he drew aswift breath of relief and flashed on his light. He gave vent to a lowexclamation. The swiftly darting shaft from the torch had revealed thefigure of a girl, bound and gagged.

  * * * * *

  The girl lay trembling on a wretched bed in a corner of the dilapidatedold chamber. O'Hara crossed the room and bent over her. Still wary of atrap he glanced back in the direction of the laboratory door: all safethere. Jimmie made haste to remove the cruel gag from her mouth.

  "Courage," he whispered. "Half a minute and you will be free."

  He produced a knife with a suspiciously long blade and cut her bonds. Hethen assisted her to her feet, where she reeled dizzily. Realizing theneed for fast action he made her sit down while he massaged the bruisedarms and ankles, which were badly swollen from the tight ropes. The girlhad apparently been in the grip of such terrible fright that she hadtemporarily lost her power of speech. Mentally he chalked up anotherscore against the Professor as the girl made several ineffectualattempts to speak.

  "Easy, kid," Jimmie whispered. "Just sit tight, and when you feel ableyou can tell me all about it. I'm going to get him good for this, youcan bank on that."

  She thanked him with a faint smile, and of a sudden she found hervoice.

  "Who are you? Where is father? Oh, tell me, please! I am afraid thathorrible man has murdered him. Are you a servant here? Oh, I don't knowwhom to trust."

  "My name is Jimmie O'Hara," replied the reporter briefly; "and I hopeyou won't worry about me. I am gunning for the Proff myself. Tell me asquickly as you can what you know about him." He still kept an eye on thedoor of the adjoining laboratory. Any moment he expected to hear thesound of the old man's approach. The room would make an ideal place toambush
the maniac, he had swiftly decided.

  "I am Norma Manion. Please don't delay, but see if you can locatefather." The girl's voice was agonized. "I heard him groan a half-hourago, and a little later came a terrific crash. Oh, I'm afraid he'sdead!"

  * * * * *

  Reluctantly Jimmie gave up the idea of ambushing the Professor.

  "Wait here," he commanded curtly. "If you hear a shot join me as soon asyou can. I want to take him alive if I can, but...." With this partinghint he disappeared through the door into the laboratory. Down thecarpeted hall he crept to the stairway. Here he stopped and listened,but to his sensitive ears came no sound from below.

  "Must have gone down the cellar with the body," he muttered. "Here goesfor a general exploration."

  With more boldness than the occasion perhaps really justified hedescended the stairs and proceeded to examine the ground floor roomsminutely. The first was the room through which he had made entrance tothe house. It proved to be but a storeroom containing nothing ofinterest, and he soon decided to waste no more time on it.

  The adjoining chamber, however, yielded some surprising finds. He hadpushed back a dusty portiere to find himself in what could benothing less than the Professor's sleeping chamber. At present thebed was unoccupied, though it showed signs of recent use. Theelectric torch played swiftly over every possible corner which couldconstitute a hiding place for an assassin, revealing nothing. Nowthe ever-searching ray fell upon an old-fashioned dresser, on whichwas piled a miscellaneous array of articles. Here were combs, brushes,a wig, a huge magnifying glass, and a gold watch. With a barelysuppressed exclamation, Jimmie pounced upon the gold timepiece.

  Handlon's! So well did he know the particular design of his watch thathe could have recognized it in the dark by sense of touch alone. So theold man was not averse to robbery among his other activities! The formertwo-story man thought fast. Handlon had probably been done in, and thebody had been disposed of in some weird manner. The only thing thatremained to be done, since the unlucky photographer was evidently pasthuman help, was to cut short the Professor's list of murders.

  * * * * *

  With the intention of missing no essential detail O'Hara swept the rayof the searchlight around the chamber once more, but discovered no moreof importance. Deciding that the sleeping chamber could yield no furtherclue he shut off the tell-tale ray and stepped noiselessly back into thenext room. Here he groped his way around until he encountered a door,which stood open. A moment's cautious exploration with an outstretchedfoot revealed the top step of a descending staircase. No faintestglimmer of light was visible, but muffled sounds proceeding from thedepths told him that someone was below.

  With infinite care, feeling his way gingerly over the rickety old stepsand fearful that an unexpected creak from one of the ancient boardswould at any moment prove his undoing, he commenced the descent. Once aboard did groan softly, causing him to stop in his tracks and stand withbated breath. He listened for sign of a movement below, while his heartloudly told off a dozen strokes. Stealthily he continued his progress,until finally soft earth under his feet told him he had reached thecellar bottom.

  Now his straining eyes perceived a tiny bit of light, and simultaneouslyhe became conscious of a deathly stench. The damp earth padding hisfootsteps, he advanced swiftly toward the source of light, which nowseemed to lie in stripes across his line of vision. He soon saw that thestairs gave upon a small boarded-off section of the cellar proper, andlight was seeping between the boards. Ah, and here was a rickety door,fortuitously equipped with a large knot-hole. O'Hara applied an eye tothis--and what he saw nearly ruined even his cast iron nerve.

  * * * * *

  The Professor was working beside a heavy wooden cask, from which issuedthe horrible stench. From time to time a sodden thud told that he washacking something to pieces with an ax. Now and then he would strainmightily at a dark and bulky thing which lay on the floor, a thing thatrequired considerable strength to lift. It seemed to be getting lighterafter each spasm of frenzied chopping. For a second Kell's shadowwavered away from the thing, and the enervated newspaper man saw itplainly. His senses almost left him as he realized that he waswitnessing the dismemberment of a human body.

  As he hacked the fragments of tissue from the torso the fiend carefullydeposited each in the huge cask. At such times a faint boiling sound washeard, and there arose an effluvium that bade fair to overcome even themonster engaged in the foul work. At last the limbs and head had beenentirely removed. The Professor evidently decided that the trunk shouldbe left whole, and he put his entire strength into the job of getting itinto the cask. It was almost more than he could negotiate, but finally adull splash told that he had succeeded.

  At this moment Jimmie O'Hara came out of his trance. The horribleproceeding had left him faint and shaken, and he wished heartily that hecould leave the disgusting place as fast as his legs could carry him.But there was still work to be done and he resolved to get it over.

  The lantern! First he must put that out of commission. The maniac wouldthen be at his mercy. Slowly, steadily he stole through the doorway, hiseyes glued to the Professor's back. Now he was within a yard of thelantern, and he drew back his foot for the kick.

  Next moment Jimmie found himself gazing into the glaring eyes of hisintended victim. Instinctively he struck out with the clubbed automatic,but the blow must have fallen short, or else the Professor had developedan uncanny agility. Now to his horror he saw the flashing blade of thebloodstained ax raised on high. He had no time to dodge the blow. Hepressed the trigger of the Colt from the position in which he held it.

  * * * * *

  The bullet grazed the upraised arm. The ax fell toward O'Hara fromfingers lacking strength to retain it, and he grasped it by the handlein midair. The next moment the assassin collected his wits and sprang athim. Silently, the breath of both coming in gasps, the two men strove,each clawing desperately at the other's throat. The reporter fought withthe knowledge that should he lose he would never again see the light ofday, the other with the fear of the justice that would deal with him.

  The maniac hugged his arms tightly about Jimmie, pinioning him sotightly that the reporter could not use his gun. At length theirconvulsive movements brought the men close to the lantern, and the nextinstant the cellar was plunged in darkness. A second later the Professortripped over some hidden obstruction and fell, dragging his opponentwith him to the earthen floor. To Jimmie's surprise there was no furthermovement from the body beneath him. Could the old villain be playingpossum? He cautiously shifted his hold and grasped the hidden throat. Hepressed the Professor's windpipe for a moment, but there was noanswering struggle. Slowly the truth dawned upon him. The heavy fall tothe floor had rendered the older man insensible.

  He must work fast. Reaching into his pocket he brought out the everhandy electric torch and flashed it over the features of his prisoner.Kell was breathing heavily. With dexterous hands O'Hara swiftly wentthrough the old man's pockets, removing all which might tend to makethat worthy dangerous--an ugly looking pistol of large caliber, ablackjack similar to his own and a small bottle.

  The latter item Jimmie examined curiously, finally uncorking it andinhaling the contents. He inhaled, not wisely but too well. The fumesfrom the vial were nigh overpowering, and he reeled back nauseated. Thecork he hastily replaced. Just what the nature of the powerful stuffwas he never attempted to discover. One acquaintance was enough.

  * * * * *

  He staggered to his feet and got the lantern lighted, then sat, gun inhand, waiting for his prisoner's return to his senses. This was becomingincreasingly imminent, judging by certain changes in the Professor'srespiration. Finally there came a series of shuddering movements as theman attempted to raise his battered body.

  "Get up, you damned butcher," ordered Jimmie, "and march upstairs. Andjust remember that I've
got you covered; don't make any false moves." Heprodded the prostrate form of the by now glaring fiend before him. Thestench of the place was nearly overcoming him, and again he felt anoverwhelming desire to dash madly from that den of evil, and once morebreathe God's fresh air. Under the stimulus of several shoves theProfessor finally won to his feet and stumbled up the stairs. Jimmie wastaking no chances and kept the automatic sharply digging into the ribsof his prisoner. The fight, however, seemed temporarily to have been alltaken out of the old man, and he made no resistance as the reporterdrove him on up to the laboratory.

  The room he found exactly as he left it. At a word from him Norma Manioncame from her hiding place in the horrible room where she had been keptprisoner.

  With an hysterical scream she fell limply to the floor. The sight of herfather's murderer had proved too much for her. Forgetting his prisonerfor the moment Jimmie sprang to the girl's side.

  Kell chose this moment to make a dash for freedom. His footsteps,however, were not as noiseless as he had intended, and O'Hara whirledjust in time to see his quarry about to throw open the hall door. Jimmiedove for his gun, only to encounter the Professor's mysterious vial,which, though forgotten, still lay in his pocket. With no time tothink, he acted purely upon instinct. His arm drew back and the bottleflew straight for the Professor's head.

  * * * * *

  By a miracle the missile missed its mark. Came a shivering crash, as thebottle struck a stud in the massive door. Of a sudden recalling theterrific potency of the contents of that particular bottle, Jimmiegasped in dismay. Norma Manion's safety drove every other thought fromhis mind. At any cost he must remove her from the proximity of thoselethal fumes.

  Hastily and without a backward glance, he gathered the girl into hisarms and dashed into the room where he had first found her. Ascertainingthat she had but swooned he placed her gently on the bed. In someperplexity as to his next move he stared at the beautiful face now sowan and white. Queer that he hadn't noticed the fact before--she wasbeautiful. He even took a second look, then noting a continued absenceof all sound from the laboratory decided to investigate.

  Gingerly he pushed open the door, sniffing the air cautiously as headvanced. To his nostrils gradually came a slight scent, which thoughalmost imperceptible made his senses reel. As he approached the halldoor he found the atmosphere heavy with the soporific vapors from thebroken vial, and he staggered drunkenly.

  He gave a start of surprise. On the floor, lying in a grotesque huddlewhich suggested a most unpleasant possibility, was the inert body ofProfessor Kell.

  * * * * *

  Jimmie bent over the body and put an experienced ear to the heart. Yes,there as a faint beat--very faint. Even as he listened he perceived aslight increase in the respiration. Now the breath began coming ingreat, choking gasps, only to die suddenly to next to nothing. At lastwith a rueful sigh Jimmie reached to his hip and produced the privateO'Hara flagon. He stooped over the Professor's form once more and bydint of much prying at clenched jaws managed to force a sizeable chargeof fiery liquid down the old man's throat. Jimmie had just begun toentertain a strong hope that this latter effort would bring theProfessor to life, when his keen ear detected signs of a commotionbelow.

  He sprang from his position over the slowly reviving Kell and leaped toa vantage point beside the door. A blackjack miraculously appeared fromsome hidden part of his anatomy and the ever-dependable Colt also becamein evidence. Now came the banging of a door, muffled voices, a crash asof a chair overturned in the dark. Up rolled a horrible oath, and thesame was rendered in a voice to Jimmie sweetly familiar. Came the soundof footsteps on the stairway and several persons coming along the hall.

  "Where in hell is Jimmie?" roared a wicked voice. "If he's met with anymonkey business in this hell-hole I'll see that the damned place burnsto the ground before I leave it!"

  * * * * *

  Delightedly Jimmie jerked open the door.

  "Still alive, Chief," he chirped as the Old Man strode into thelaboratory. Bland was followed by Perry, who seemed to be in a sort ofdaze. Bringing up the rear were a pair of plainclothesmen whom Jimmieknew very well--almost too well. One of these gentlemen bore a lanternwhich reminded Jimmie strongly of some he had seen that night guardingan open ditch in the public highway.

  The Professor had fully regained consciousness and was struggling to hisfeet. As for Norma Manion, she had suddenly appeared, leaning weaklyagainst the door casing, and was surveying the group in great alarm.

  After being assured by O'Hara that they were her friends she smiledwanly. To Bland and the others she was, of course, an unexpected factorin the weird night's doings, and for several moments they regarded hercuriously.

  At length Jimmie, sensing the question in the Old Man's eyes, elected tooffer a few words of explanation.

  "Miss Manion has just been through a terrible experience," he said."She and her father have been for some time at the mercy of thismonster"--indicating Kell--"and her nerves are completely shattered.We'd better get her out of this as quickly as we can."

  "Mike!" Hard Boiled Bland glared at one of the officers. "Don't standthere with your teeth in your gums like that. Take this girl out to mycar and let her lie down. She needs a stimulant, too. If you search mycar and find any red liquor in the left back door pocket, I don't know athing about it. And stay with her so she won't be afraid to go tosleep."

  She smiled in silent gratitude and allowed the plainclothesman to leadher away from that chamber of horror.

  * * * * *

  The reporter lost no time in telling Bland of his failure to find SkipHandlon. He went on to acquaint his Chief with the facts of all that hadoccured while he had been at the Professor's house.

  The fiery old fellow listened grimly. When Jimmie came to the story ofthe corpse and the cask the editor breathed one word, "Manion!"

  Jimmie nodded sadly. All eyes turned to the dejected huddle on the floorthat was Professor Kell. Finally Bland could wait no longer, but fixed aterrible eye on the murderer and demanded harshly, "Where's Handlon?"

  Now the Professor burst into a fit of insane laughter, laughter thatcurdled the blood of the listeners.

  "You ask me that! It's almost too good. Hee-hee! You sent your twoprecious reporters out to my house to pry into my secrets, and thoughtto display my name all over your yellow sheet; but you forgot that youwere dealing with Professor Anton Kell, didn't you?" The last he fairlyshrieked. "A lot of people have tried to intrude upon me before, butnone ever escaped me!"

  "We know that," cut in Jimmie, for he was getting impatient and the oldman's boastings seemed out of place. "You are slated for the ropeanyway, after what I discovered down cellar." He jerked his eyes in thedirection of the door significantly. "Now we propose to find Handlon,and the better it will be for you if you tell us what you have done withhim. Otherwise...."

  "You can go to hell!" screamed the maniac. "If you are so clever, findout for yourselves. He isn't so far away that you couldn't touch him byreaching out your hand. In fact, he's been with you quite a while.Hee-hee-hee! Well, if you must know--there he is!" With an insanechuckle he pointed at Horace Perry. And Perry did a strange thing.

  "Yes, you fiend, here I am!" Whose voice was that? Was it Perryspeaking, or was it Skip Handlon? Most assuredly Perry stood beforethem, but the voice, in a subtle manner, reminded the group strongly ofpoor old Skip.

  * * * * *

  As he spoke Perry had launched himself at the Professor's throat and hadto be restrained by the others. Savagely he fought them but slowly andsurely they overcame his struggles and placed him, writhing, in achair.

  Of a sudden Bland leaned forward and scrutinized Perry's face sharply.Had the reporter gone insane too? The pupils of the eyes had taken on asort of queer contraction, a fixed quality that was almost ludicrous. Helooked like a man under hypnosis. He had gone limp i
n their grasp, butnow suddenly he stiffened. The eyes underwent another startling change,this time glowing undoubtedly with the look of reason. Bland wasmystified and waited for Perry to explain his queer conduct. The latterseemed finally to come to. Simultaneously he realized that his peculiarlapse from consciousness had been observed by the others.

  "Guess I may as well admit it," he said with a wry smile. "Ever since Icame back from my assignment with Kell I have had a hell of a time. Halfthe time I have been in a daze and have not had the least idea what Iwas doing. Funny part of it is that I have seemed to keep right on doingthings even while I was out of my head." He told briefly of the visionshe had had in which he had seemed to contend with his brother reporter,the horrid sensations as he felt himself overcome, the black oblivion inwhich he then found himself, and the mysterious manner in which he hadleft Keegan on that ill-fated assignment.

  "What have you done to Handlon?" Jimmie's voice cut in. He was standingover the form of the maniac, rigid and menacing. "You have exactly twominutes to go."

  "Find out for yourself!" snarled the bruised and battered fiend.

  "I will," was the answer, and on the instant a horrible shriek rent theair. Jimmie had quickly grasped both of the Professor's arms at thewrists and was slowly twisting them in a grip of iron. Kell's face wentwhite, the lips writhed back over toothless gums, the eyes closed in thesupreme effort to withstand the excruciating pain. Then--

  "Enough, enough!" he screamed.

  * * * * *

  O'Hara eased the pressure slightly but retained his hold upon theclawlike hands. "Talk fast," he ordered.

  The old man struggled futilely in the grasp of the powerful reporter,finally glancing in the direction of the others. Would they show signsof pity? Surely not Hard Boiled Bland. The Chief was watching thestruggles of the victim through a cloud of tobacco smoke which he wasslowly exhaling through his nose. The plainclothesman displayed no signof interest at all. The game was up!

  "Very well," he said sullenly. "Handlon and Perry are both occupying thesame body."

  "Wh-a-a-t?" roared Bland. "Jimmie, I guess you'll have to put the screwsto him some more. He's trying to make fools of us at the last minute!"

  "No, no!" screamed the Professor. "What I say is true. I have beenworking for years on my system of de-astralization. This last year I atlength perfected my electric de-astralizer, which amplifies and exertsthe fifth influence of de-cohesion."

  The whole party began to look uneasy and gazed apprehensively at thehuge Crookes tube which still stood in its supporting frame on thetable.

  "I have been forced to experiment on animals for the most part," theProfessor continued. "I succeeded in de-astralizing a dog and a bull andcaused them to exchange bodies. The bodies continued to function. I wasenthusiastic. Other experiments took place of which I will not tell you.Finally I began to long for a human subject on which to try my fifthinfluence."

  "Just get down to cases, if you don't mind, Kell." The Chief wantedaction. "Suppose you tell us just what you did to Handlon and where wecan find him. I may as well mention that your life depends upon it. Ifwe find that you have done for him, something worse than death mayhappen to you." The tone was menacing. Although Handlon was acomparatively late acquisition to the old Chief's staff, still he hadbeen loyal to the paper.

  "When your two damned reporters entered my driveway," Kell resumed. "Isaw them coming through a powerful glass which I always have on hand. Ihad no desire to see them, but they forced themselves upon me. At last Idetermined that they should furnish material for my experiments.

  * * * * *

  "If your men had looked into the grove behind the barn they would havefound the automobile which furnished two more subjects I was keeping onhand in a room upstairs. Old Manion and his daughter gave me quite a bitof trouble, but I kept them drugged most of the time. He broke out ofthe room to-night though, and I had to kill him. It was self defense,"he added slyly.

  "Anyway, I found it was possible to make two astrals exchange bodies.But I also wanted to see if it were possible to cause two astrals tooccupy the same body at the same time, and if so what the result wouldbe. I found out. It was rare sport to watch your star reporter leave myhouse. He was damned glad to leave, I believe...." Again came the insanecackle.

  "Guess we have to believe him whether we want to or not." The detectivecame to life. "How about making him release Handlon's--what d'ye callit?--astral--from Perry's body?"

  "Just a moment." The voice now was unmistakably Handlon's, though it wasissuing from the throat of Perry. "In the minute I have in consciousnesslet me suggest that before you do any more de-astralizing you _locate mybody_. Until then, if I am released from this one I am a dead man."

  The words struck the group dumb. Where _was_ Handlon's body? Could theProfessor produce it?

  That worthy looked rather haunted at that moment, and they began to seethe fear of death coming upon him.

  "Mercy, mercy!" he begged as the four men started to advance upon him."As soon as I had de-astralized Handlon I destroyed his body in mypickling barrel down cellar. But there is another way...." He paused,uncertain as to how his next words would be received. "Go out and getthe Manion girl. She can be de-astralized and friend Handlon can haveher body."

  * * * * *

  At this suggestion, advanced so naively, the four men recoiled inhorror. It was entirely too much even for Hard Boiled Bland, and hecould hardly restrain himself from applying the editorial fist to theleering face before him. Undoubtedly Professor Kell was hopelesslyinsane, and for that reason he held himself in leash.

  "Kell, you are slated to pull off one more stunt," Jimmie addressed thecringing heap. "You know what it is. Get busy. And just remember that Iam standing over here"--he indicated a corner well separated from therest--"with this cannon aimed in your direction. If things aren't justaccording to Hoyle, you get plugged. Get me?"

  "What about it, men?" Bland spoke up. "Is it going to be treatingHandlon right to de-astralize him now? It will be his last chance tohave a body on this earth."

  "Unfortunately that body never belonged to Handlon," said O'Hara. "HenceI fail to see why Perry should be discommoded for the balance of hislife with a companion astral. Perry is clearly entitled to his own body,free and unhampered. Friend Skip is out of luck, unless--Well, I don'tmind telling you, Kell, that you just gave me an idea. Snap into itnow!"

  The Professor dragged himself to his feet and under the menace of theautomatic fumbled under the table until he had located the intricateapparatus before mentioned.

  "Now if Mr. Perry--or Handlon--will kindly recline at full length onthis table," he said with an obscene leer, "the experiment will begin."

  "Just remember, Kell, this is no experiment," advised Bland, fixing theProfessor with an ugly eye. "You do as you're told."

  The other made no reply, but threw a hidden switch. Perry, lying flat onhis back on the ancient table, suddenly found himself being bathed bywhat seemed to be a ray of light, and yet was not a ray of light. Whatwas it? It was surely not visible, yet it was tangible. A terrific forcewas emanating from that devilish globe above him, drawing him out ofhimself--or--no--was he expanding? Again his ears became filled withconfused, horrible sounds, the outlines of the room faded from sight,he felt a strange sense of inflation ... of lightness.... Oblivion!

  * * * * *

  From where the others sat a gasp of wonder went up. At the first contactof the switch there had been a momentary flash of greenish light withinthe bulb, and then a swift transition to a beautiful orange. It had thenfaded altogether, leaving the glass apparently inert and inactive.

  But it was not so! The form lying beneath the bulb was evidently beingracked with untold tortures. The face became a thing of horror. Now ithad twisted into a grotesque semblance of Handlon's--now it againresembled Perry's. The Professor quietly increased the pressure of thecurrent
. From the bulb emanated a steel gray exhalation of what must betermed light, and yet so real it was seemingly material. Assuredly itwas not a ray of light as we understand light. It came in great beatingthrobs, in which the actual vibrations were entirely visible. Under eachimpact the body of Perry seemed to change, slowly at first, then withincreasing speed. The body was now swelled to enormous size. Blandreached forward to touch it.

  "This de-cohering influence," the Professor was murmuring, almostraptly, "causes the atoms that go to make a living body repel oneanother. When the body is sufficiently nebulized, the soul--Back! Back,you fool!" he suddenly shrieked, grasping Bland by the arm. "Do you wantto kill him?"

  Bland hurriedly retreated, convinced perforce that Kell's alarm wasgenuine. The editorial fingers had penetrated the subject's garmentswithout resistance and sank into the body as easily as if it were somuch soft soap!

  * * * * *

  The body continued to expand until at length even the hard-headedplainclothesman realized that it had been reduced to a mere vapor.Within this horrid vaporized body, which nearly filled the room andwhich had now lost all semblance to a man, could be discerned two faintshapes. Swiftly the Professor extinguished the lantern. The shapes,vague though they were, could be recognized as those of Horace Perry andSkip Handlon. And they were at strife!

  All eyes were now focused on Professor Kell, who was evidently waitingfor something to happen. The two apparitions within the body-cloud wereat death grips. One had been overcome and was temporarily helpless. Itwas that of Handlon. And then again the astral of Perry forcibly oustedthat of Handlon from the cloud-cyst. And at that instant Professor Kellshut off the influence-tube.

  At once a terrific metamorphosis took place. There came a sharp soundalmost like a clap of thunder, with the slight exception that this wasoccasioned by exactly the reverse effect. Instead of being an_ex_plosion it might more properly be termed an _in_plosion, for themist-cloud suddenly vanished. The de-cohering influence having beenremoved, the cloud had condensed into the form of Perry. Apparently nonethe worse, he was even now beginning to recover consciousness. Theastral of Handlon was no longer visible, though hovering in thevicinity.

  Perry's body was again his own.

  * * * * *

  At this time Jimmie O'Hara elected to start something new by hitting theProfessor a workmanlike blow on the back of the head with the butt ofhis automatic. The next thing Bland or anyone else present knew theunconscious body of the Professor was on the table and Jimmie wasgroping for the concealed switch. At length he found it, and the greenflash of light appeared in the bulb, followed by the brilliant orangemanifestation.

  "What in hell are you doing?" gasped Bland.

  "De-astralizing the Professor," replied O'Hara cheerfully. "Don't youget the idea yet? Watch!"

  Fascinated, the four men saw the terrific emanation take its balefuleffect. As before, the body commenced to expand and gradually took on amisty outline. Larger and larger it grew, until finally it had become avast cloud of intangible nothingness which filled the room like someevil nebula.

  A cry of consternation from the detective aroused Jimmie. Skip Handlon'sastral had appeared within the field of the nebula to fight forpossession. There ensued what was perhaps the weirdest encounter everwitnessed. Though he was in poor physical shape, the Professor seemed tohave an extremely powerful astral; and for some time the spectatorsdespaired of Handlon's victory. Once the latter, evidently realizingthat the powerful influence tube had rendered him visible, glancedsharply in Jimmie's direction. O'Hara was considerably puzzled at this,but watched the progress of the struggle tensely. At length the momentseemed to arrive which the reporter's astral had been awaiting. Itturned tail and fled away from the astral of the Professor, disappearingbeyond the outer confines of the nebula.

  Jimmie suddenly divined the other's purpose and dived for the hiddenswitch. As he had anticipated, Handlon had finally given up the attemptto overcome the astral of Kell by force and had made up his mind toaccomplish his end by strategy. Almost on the instant that Jimmie's handclosed on the switch the reporter's astral again leaped into the fieldof the nebula. Fiercely it signalled to the former second story man toshut off the current, but the admonition was unnecessary, for Jimmie hadalready done so.

  * * * * *

  Swiftly the cloud-cyst faded. Even as the group caught a fleeting sightof Skip Handlon, the last that mortal eyes would ever see of him as heactually was, there came a violent disturbance at the edge of theshrinking nebula. Would the speed of condensation of the atoms whichcomprised the body of Professor Kell serve to shut out the pursuingastral of Kell?

  Even Bland held his breath!

  The cloud lost its luminous quality, the action of condensationincreasing in speed. It was barely visible in the enshrouding gloom. Anastral had long since been enveloped within the rapidly accumulatingsubstance. Came a sudden clap of sound as before, and the final act ofresolution had been accomplished. Whether the Professor had succeeded inregaining a position within the cloud-cyst before the crucial secondnone could say.

  Jimmie relighted the lantern. Apparently the effect of the love tapadministered by his automatic was more or less of a lasting character,and the men were put to some ado to restore the body of Kell toconsciousness. At length their efforts began to bear fruit, however, andit became expedient to remove the patient to the softer couch in thesitting room below. As they moved forward to lay hold of the limp body afigure appeared in the doorway to the hall. It was the plainclothesman,Riley.

  "How about getting under way for town," he wanted to know. "Is the oldparty croaked yet? Miss Manion has had a fierce time and says she won'tstay near this house another minute. I don't like this place myselfeither. Do you know I just got kicked by a poll parrot? Let's get awayfrom here."

  "Hold on, Riley, what are you talking about?" growled Bland. "Kicked bya poll parrot! You're--"

  "That's all right, Chief," broke in the now thoroughly cheerful Perry."That jackass I shot could probably have told us all about it. Ipositively know the beast could talk."

  "Humph!" snorted Bland, "Well, if a donkey can talk, and a bull canbite, and a hound can hook, why shouldn't a parrot--Judas Priest, I'mgetting as crazy as the rest of you! Hurry up and get Kell downstairs sowe can see who he is. There I go again! Oh, go lie down, Riley."

  "But look, Bland, look!" Riley was pointing a demoralized finger at acage in the corner. He tugged frantically at Bland's coat sleeve. "Seewhat's in there, won't you? I--well, I did find some liquor in your car,and Miss Manion made me take some. I--I didn't know it would do this tome. Look in there; please, Mr. Bland!"

  * * * * *

  Bland gave Riley a dark look, but nevertheless he reached for O'Hara'sflashlight. In the cage two yellow eyes blinked sleepily out at him.Perry began to laugh.

  "Why, there's nothing in there but a cat. Skip and I heard it purringwhen we first came in here this afternoon. Guess Riley--"

  "Great God, Jimmie, give me your gun!" Hard Boiled Bland for the momentfailed to merit his sobriquet. The torch in his hand threw a tremblingbeam full into the cage. "It's a snake! And--there! It's doing itagain!"

  A snake it was, indubitably, a huge black specimen with bright yellowstripes. Bland's frenzied yell seemed not to have excited it at all, fornow the sleek fellow had arched its body neatly and was calmly lickingits sides with a long forked tongue. After a moment it halted theoperation long enough to rub its jaw against a bar of its cage, and gavevent to a sociable mew!

  Even this could not dash the spirits of Horace Perry. He laugheddelightedly again as he laid Bland by the arm.

  "That creature is perfectly harmless, Chief," he told the editor."Somewhere I suppose there's a mighty dangerous kitty cat at large, butthere's no sense in taking it out on this poor reptile. Let's live andlet live."

  With a show of reluctance Bland returned Jimmie's automat
ic, then strodeover to where lay the form of Kell. Perry and O'Hara lingered by thecage long enough to arrange a plan to let the snake out doors as soon asopportunity offered, after which they joined their Chief. Riley wentout to resume his vigil in Bland's car, while his fellow sleuth preparedto light the way downstairs. Under his guidance the sick man was carriedbelow without mishap.

  Downstairs the now conscious form of the venerable Professor was laidout on the ancient sofa until his senses could clear a bit. Presentlythe eyelids fluttered open and a feeble voice asked, "Where the deuce amI, and how did all you guys get here?"

  * * * * *

  A joyous gasp went up. That voice! Although uttered in somewhat the samevocal quality as Kell's the intonation and accents had strangelyaltered. O'Hara leaned eagerly over the figure on the couch. Thequestion he asked was startling in its incongruity:

  "How are you feeling, _Skip_!"

  "Rotten," was the reply from the lips of Kell. "What hit me such a crackon the dome? I feel as if I had been dragged through a knot-hole. Lemmeup."

  "Stay still," commanded O'Hara, kindly but firmly. "You aren't fit tomove yet. You are going on a long ride and will need your strength.Don't talk, either."

  A half-hour later they left the house. In the front yard the editorcalled a hasty conclave which included the entire party. Hard BoiledBland has never been known to talk so much at a stretch, before orsince.

  "Before we start back," he began, "we had better come to an understanding.In the first place--Skip, come over here a minute."

  Norma Manion uttered an involuntary cry of fear as the aged form of Kellpassed by her. Skip's instant response to his name had, of course, beenperfectly natural to him. But it had an odd effect on the others.

  "Miss Manion, and gentlemen," Bland went on, with a bow of mockceremony, "I want you to meet Mister--er, Mister--oh hell, call himSaunders. This is Mr. Kenneth Saunders, ladies and gentlemen. When hegets a shave and has his new face patched up I believe you will like hisappearance much more than you do now.

  "Seriously though, folks, I hope that with a little fixing up thegentleman will hardly resemble Professor Anton Kell. Kell is dead.Obviously, however, this gentleman can hardly continue his existence asSkip Handlon. Hence--well, hence Mr. Saunders. And don't forget thename.

  "Now another little matter. This house has proven a curse to humanity.What has transpired here need never be known. Would it not be the wiserto eliminate all traces of to-night's happenings? There is a way." Helooked significantly at the others.

  * * * * *

  "You mean--" began Perry.

  "That we destroy all traces of Professor Kell's villainy. Although he isno more, still someone might notice that _his body actively remains_.And no one wants to do any explaining."

  "It's the only way we can protect Handlon," one of the sleuthsruminated, half to himself. "No judge would ever believe a word aboutthis de-astralization business. The chances are we would all go to thebooby hatch and Handlon would go to prison for Kell's crimes."

  "There were four of us that witnessed the fact of the--the soultransfusion, though," Perry objected. "Wouldn't that be enough to clearSkip? Besides, wouldn't it be possible for us to lead a jury out hereand duplicate the experiment?"

  "Too much undesirable publicity," growled Bland, who for once in hislife had found reason to keep something good out of the headlines. "Whatdo you say, people?"

  "I move we move," from the detective who had had the uncomfortable jobof attending to Norma Manion.

  "Gentleman, I believe we understand each other," said Jimmie quietly."Now I am going into the barn"--significantly--"to see if everything'sall right. While I am there something _might_ happen. You understand?"

  The others nodded silent assent.

  * * * * *

  In the snug seat of Jimmie's speedster Norma Manion shivered as shefollowed the direction indicated by her companion's finger. It was thatdarkest hour which comes just before the dawn.

  To the westward could be perceived a dull, red glow, which, even as theywatched with fascinated eyes, developed into an intense glare. Graduallythe fading stars became eclipsed in the greater glory.

  Three cars, motors throbbing as if eager to be gone, stood a space aparton the main road. The car behind O'Hara's was the Manion machine, nowoccupied by Bland and Riley. The remaining one was a touring car andcontained the balance of the party. Perry was at the wheel, and besidehim sat the Handlon-Kell-Saunders combination.

  "Thus passes a den of horror," whispered Jimmie to his companion.

  "It is the funeral pyre of my father," the girl answered simply. She hadlong since recovered from her initial outburst of grief at her loss, andnow watched the progress of the conflagration dry-eyed. At length Jimmieslipped an arm protectingly about the trembling shoulders.

  "You have seen enough," he said. As the three cars raced from the sceneof the holocaust, faint streamers in the east told of the rising orb ofday.

  "Good-by, Keegan, forever," murmured Norma.

  "Amen," O'Hara devoutedly agreed.