to lose his whole identity. He
crouched on his haunches, almost like an animal, and sprang at the other's
throat. They could almost hear the snarl from his lips as the two men went
down together into the undergrowth. The picture faded away.

"Dr. Merrill!" Lenora faltered. "Then it was not wild beasts which killed
him."

Almost immediately figures again appeared in the mirror. This time they
saw the Professor in bed in a tent, Craig sitting by him, a violin in his
hand. A native servant entered with food, which he placed by the bedside
with a low obeisance. Slowly the Professor raised himself in bed. His face
was distorted, his mouth curved into strange lines. With a sudden spring
he seized the native servant by the throat and bore him back upon the
floor. Craig passed his arm through his master's and, exerting all his
strength, dragged him away. They saw the man run terrified from the room,
they saw Craig soothe the Professor and finally get him back to bed. Then
he seized the violin and bent a little forward, playing softly. Slowly the
Professor relapsed into what seemed to be a sleep. The scene faded away,
to be replaced almost immediately by another. There was a small passage
which seemed to lead from the back entrance of a house; the Professor with
a black mantle, Craig following him, pleading, expostulating. They saw the
conservatory for a minute, and then blackness. The Professor was leaning
against a marble basin. There was nothing to be seen of him but his eyes
and hands. They saw him listen, for a moment or two in cold, unresponsive
silence, then stretch out his hand and push Craig away. The picture glowed
and faded and glowed again. Then they saw through the gloom the figure of
a woman approach, a diamond necklace around her neck. They saw the hands
steal out and encircle her throat--and then more darkness, silence,
obscurity. The mirror was empty once more.

"Mrs. Rheinholdt's jewels!" Lenora cried. "What next? Oh! my God, what
next?"

Their eyes ached with the strain but there was not one of them who could
even glance away from the mirror. It was Quest's study which slowly
appeared then. The Salvation Army girl was there, talking to the
Professor. They saw him leave her, they saw him look back from the door, a
strange, evil glance. Then the secretary entered and spoke to her. Once
more the door opened. The hands were there, stretching and reaching, a
paper-weight gripped in the right-hand fingers. They s