tural, only she seemed, particularly before the burial, to be
waiting intently for some revelation, toward which her desire burned
consumingly, like a powerful flame.

Just before the funeral Strang's sister came to Doctor Milton.

"Evelyn!" in whispered response to his concerned look. "Oh, doctor, I
cannot think that this calmness is _right_ for her----" The poor,
red-eyed woman, fighting hard for her own composure, motioned to the
room where, with the cool lattices drawn, and a wave of flowers breaking
on his everlasting sleep, the master of Heartholm lay. "She has gone in
there with that little deaf-and-dumb child. I saw her standing with him,
staring all about her. Somehow it seemed to me that Gargoyle was
smiling--that he _saw_ something----!"

For long weeks Doctor Milton stayed on at Heartholm, caring for Mrs.
Strang. From time to time the physician also studied and questioned
Gargoyle. Questioned in verity, for the practised hand could feel rigid
muscles and undeveloped glands that answered more truthfully than
words. Whatever conclusions Milton arrived at, he divulged to no one but
Mrs. Strang. What he had to say roused the desolate woman as nothing
else could have done. To the rest of the world little or nothing was
explained. But, after the consent of the mother at the gardener's
cottage had been gained, Doctor Milton left Heartholm, taking Gargoyle
with him.

In the office of Dr. Pauli Mach, the professional tongue was freed.
Milton, with the half-quizzical earnestness habitual to him, told his
story, which was followed by the exchange of much interesting data.

The two fell back on the discussion of various schools where Gargoyle
might be put under observation. At last, feeling in the gravely polite
attention of the more eminent man a waning lack of interest, Milton
reluctantly concluded the interview.

"I'll write to Mrs. Strang and tell her your conclusions; she won't
accept them--her own husband humored her in the thing. What John Strang
himself believed I never really knew, but I think he had wisdom in his
generation."

Milton stood there, hesitating; he looked abstractedly at the apathetic
little figure of Gargoyle sitting in the chair.

"We talk of inherent human nature," said the doctor, slowly, "as if we
had all knowledge concerning the _possibilities_ of that nature's best
and worst. Yet I have sometimes wondered if what we call mentally askew
people are not those that possess attributes w