erably
from the bruise of that tremendous grip. As his hand rested on the door
knob, he was stopped.

"You were lucky," Mr. Ward was saying, and Dave noted that his face and
eyes were cruel and gloating and proud.

"You were lucky. Had I wanted, I could have torn your muscles out of
your arms and thrown them in the waste basket there."

"Yes, sir," said Dave; and absolute conviction vibrated in his voice.

He opened the door and passed out. The secretary looked at him
interrogatively.

"Gosh!" was all Dave vouchsafed, and with this utterance passed out of
the offices and the story.

III

James G. Ward was forty years of age, a successful business man, and
very unhappy. For forty years he had vainly tried to solve a problem
that was really himself and that with increasing years became more
and more a woeful affliction. In himself he was two men, and,
chronologically speaking, these men were several thousand years or so
apart. He had studied the question of dual personality probably more
profoundly than any half dozen of the leading specialists in that
intricate and mysterious psychological field. In himself he was a
different case from any that had been recorded. Even the most fanciful
flights of the fiction-writers had not quite hit upon him. He was not
a Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde, nor was he like the unfortunate young man in
Kipling's "Greatest Story in the World." His two personalities were so
mixed that they were practically aware of themselves and of each other
all the time.

His other self he had located as a savage and a barbarian living under
the primitive conditions of several thousand years before. But which
self was he, and which was the other, he could never tell. For he was
both selves, and both selves all the time. Very rarely indeed did it
happen that one self did not know what the other was doing. Another
thing was that he had no visions nor memories of the past in which that
early self had lived. That early self lived in the present; but while
it lived in the present, it was under the compulsion to live the way of
life that must have been in that distant past.

In his childhood he had been a problem to his father and mother, and to
the family doctors, though never had they come within a thousand miles
of hitting upon the clue to his erratic, conduct. Thus, they could not
understand his excessive somnolence in the forenoon, nor his excessive
activity at night. When they found him wandering along