ase-tackles. The tail-rope
of each tackle ended in a noose that was hitched on a hook on the wall,
and the falls of the two tackles were hitched lightly over two other
hooks. But none of these appliances was visible. The shaded lamp threw
its bright light on the table only.

"Piragoff came across the room and laid down the pistols.

"'Open those boxes,' he said gruffly, 'and let us see what is in them.'

"I took off the lid of one; and Piragoff started back with a gasp, but
came back, snuffing at the box like a frightened animal.

"'What the devil are these things?' he demanded in a hoarse whisper.

"'They look like dolls' heads,' I answered.

"'They look like dead men's heads,' he whispered, shudderingly, 'only
they are too small. They are dreadful. This collector man is a devil. I
should like to kill him.' He glared with horrid fascination at the
little dry preparations--there were eight in this box, each in its own
little black velvet compartment with its number and date on the label. I
opened the second box--also containing eight--and he stared into that
with the same shuddering fascination.

"'What do you suppose these dates mean?' he whispered.

"'I suppose,' I replied, 'those are the dates on which he acquired them.
Here is another box.' This, the last one, was intended to hold nine
heads, but it contained only eight--at present. There was an empty
compartment of red velvet in the middle, on either side of which were
the heads of the last two specimens, twenty-three and twenty-four.

"I took off the lid and stood back to see what would happen.

"Piragoff stared into the box without speaking for two or three seconds.
Suddenly he uttered a shriek. 'It is Boris! Boris and Louis
Plotcovitch!'

"His figure stiffened. He stood rigid with his hands on his thighs,
leaning over the box, his hair bristling, his white face running with
sweat, his jaw dropped; the very personification of horror. And of a
sudden he began to tremble violently.

"I looked at him with disgust and an instantaneous revulsion of feeling.
What! Should I call in the aid of all those elaborate appliances to
dispatch a poor trembling devil like this? I would have none of them.
The concussor was good enough for him. Nay, it was too good.

"I reached out behind me and lifted one of the nooses from its hook. Its
own weight had nearly closed the loop, for the steel eyelet spliced
into the end ran very easily and smoothly on the well-greased r