The review. [volume] (High Point, N.C.) 1908-19??, 1915-07-22

moment. The picture faded out.
ooh, stop it," Lenora begged.
| Haven't we seen enough? We know
the truth now. Stop it or shall die"
The criminologist made no reply.
His eyes we're still fixed upon the pro-
| fessor, who showed some signs of re-
turning consciousness. He was grip
| ping at his collar. He seemed to have
difficulty with his breathing. Quest
! suddenly braced himself. He pushed
Lenora back.
Zone more" he muttered. There's
something growing in his mind. I can
feel it. Waltz
Again they all turned towards the
mirror. They saw the hallway of Ash
leigh house, the pictures upon the
walls, they could almost feel the quiet
silence of night. They saw the pro-
fessor come stealing down the stairs.
He was wearing the black velvet suit
with the cowl in his hand. They
watched him pause before a certain
door, draw on the cowl and disappear.
Through the opening they could see
Lord Ashleigh asleep in bed, the moon
light streaming through the open win
dow across the counterpart. They
saw the professor turn with strange,
horrible look in his face and close the
door. Lenora burst into sobs.
mo more!" she shrieked. mo
more, or shall go mad!"
Quest leaned forward and released
their victim. The whole atmosphere
of the place seemed Immediately to
change. Lenora drew a long, convul-
sive breath and sank into chair. The
professor sat up and gazed at them
all with the air of a man who has
just awakened from a dream.
"Have I, by any chance, slept?" he
asked. OR"
He never finished his sentence. His
eyes fell upon the mirror, the metal
band lying by his side. He read the
truth in the faces still turned towards
him. He rose to his feet. There was
another and equally sudden change in
his demeanor and tone. He carried
himself with, the calm dignity of the
scientist.
"The end of our struggle, 1 pre-
sume?" he said to Quest, pointing to
NIT that l have shown you fine sport"
No one answered him. Even Quest
had barely yet recovered himself. The
professor shrugged his shoulders.
81 recognize, of course" he said,
gravely, that this is the end. A per-
son in extremis has privileges. Will
you allow me to write just matter of
twenty lines at your dCsk?"
Silently Quest assented. The profess
sor seated himself in the swing chair,
drew a sheet of paper towards him,
dipped the pen in the ink and began
to write. Then he turned around and
reached for his own small black bag
which lay upon the table. Quest
caught him by the wrist.
What do you want out of that, pro-
fessor?" he inquired.
merely my own pen and ink" the
professor expostulated. eff there is
anything I detest in the world, it is
violet ink And your pen, too, is ex-
ecrable. AS they are to be the last
words I shall leave to a sorrowing
world, I should like to write them in
my own fashion. Open the bag for
yourself, if you will. You can pass
me the things out"
Quest opened the bag, took out a
pen and a small glass bottle of ink.
He handed them to the professor, who
started at once more to write. Quest
watched him for moment and then
turned away to French. The profess
sor looked over his shoulder and sud
denly barred his wrist. Lenora seized
her employer by the arm.
Look" she cried. What is he 60
ing to do?"
Quest swung around, but he was too
late The professor had dug the pen
into his arm. He sat in his chair and
laughed as they all hurried towards
him. Then suddenly he sprang to his
feet. Again the change came into
his face which they had seen in the
mirror French dashed forward to-
wards him. The professor snarled,
seemed about to spring, then suddenly
once more stretched out his hands to
show that he was helpless and handed
to Quest the paper upon which he had
been writing.
"You have nothing to fear from me"
he exclaimed. Here is my last mes
sage to you, Sanford Quest. Read it
read it aloud. Always remember that
this was not your triumph, but mine"