ded with glass
stills and test tubes. In the middle was as plain a table, with half a
dozen books, a microscope under a glass shade, a little wooden case
which was opened to display an array of delicate scientific instruments,
a Bunsen burner, which was burning bluely under a small glass bowl half
filled with a dark and turgid concoction of some kind.

The face of the man sitting at the table watching this unsavory stew was
hidden behind a mica and rubber mask, for the fumes which were being
given off by the fluid were neither pleasant nor healthy. Save for a
shaded light upon the table and the blue glow of the Bunsen lamp, the
room was in darkness. Now and again the student would take a glass rod,
dip it for an instant into the boiling liquid, and, lifting it, would
allow the liquid drop by drop to fall from the rod on to a strip of
litmus paper. What he saw was evidently satisfactory, and presently he
turned out the Bunsen lamp, walked to the window and opened it, and
switched on an electric fan to aid the process of ventilation.

He removed his mask, revealing the face of a good-looking young man,
rather pale, with a slight dark mustache and heavy, black, wavy hair. He
closed the window, filled his pipe from the well-worn pouch which he
took from his pocket, and began to write in a notebook, stopping now and
again to consult some authority from the books before him.

In half an hour he had finished this work, had blotted and closed his
book, and, pushing back his chair, gave himself up to reverie. They were
not pleasant thoughts to judge by his face. He pulled from his inside
pocket a leather case and opened it. From this he took a photograph. It
was the picture of a girl of sixteen. It was a pretty face, a little
sad, but attractive in its very weakness. He looked at it for a long
time, shaking his head as at an unpleasant thought.

There came a gentle tap at the door, and quickly he replaced the
photograph in his case, folded it, and returned it to his pocket as he
rose to unlock the door.

John Minute, who entered, sniffed suspiciously.

"What beastly smells you have in here, Jasper!" he growled. "Why on
earth don't they invent chemicals that are more agreeable to the nose?"

Jasper Cole laughed quietly.

"I'm afraid, sir, that nature has ordered it otherwise," he said.

"Have you finished?" asked his employer.

He looked at the still warm bowl of fluid suspiciously.

"It is all right, sir," said Jaspe