it was open!

Stunned by his discovery, wondering what had happened during the
night, Bentley looked about him. He noticed the long narrow table at
the end of the cage, and the white covering it bore. He recognized it
instantly as an operating table, and wondered afresh.

Where was Barter?

* * * * *

Bentley raised his voice to shout the scientist's name. But before he
could himself recognize the syllables of the scientist's name, through
the whole room rang the bellowing challenge of a giant anthropoid ape.
Bentley cowered down fearfully and looked around him. Where was the
ape that had uttered that frightful noise? The sound had broken in
that very room, yet save for himself the room was empty.

Bentley turned his head as he heard someone fumbling with the door.

Barter entered, and his face was a study as his eyes met those of
Bentley. Bentley noticed that Barter held that whip in his hand,
uncoiled and ready for action.

What was this that Barter was saying?

"I warn you, Bentley, that if anything happens to me you are doomed.
If I am killed it means a horrible end for you."

Bentley tried to answer him, tried to speak, but something appeared to
have gone wrong with his vocal cords, so that all that came from his
lips was a senseless gibberish that meant nothing at all. He recalled
the odor of violets, Barter's enigmatic good-night utterance with
reference to violets, and wondered if their odor, stealing into the
room where he had gone on guard over Ellen, had had anything to do
with paralyzing his powers of speech.

"I see you haven't discovered, Bentley," said Barter after a moment of
searching inspection of Bentley. "Look at yourself!"

Surprised at this puzzling command, Bentley slowly looked down at his
chest. It was broad and hairy, huge as a mighty barrel, and his arms
hung to the floor, the hands half closed as though they grasped
something. Horror held Bentley mute for a moment. Then he raised his
eyes to Barter, to note that the scientist was smiling and rubbing his
hands with immense satisfaction.

* * * * *

Bentley started across the floor toward a mirror near Barter's bed. He
refused to let his numbed brain dwell upon the instant recognition of
his manner of progress. For he moved across the floor with a peculiar
rolling gait, aiding his stride with the bent knuckles of his hands
pressed against the floor.

He fought again