one
another--standing rigidly like men of stone one on either side of that
long, thin body stretched upon my study floor. The hawk face in
profile was startlingly like that of Anubis as it lay against the red
carpet.

Neither of us, I think, was capable of grasping the fact that the
inquiry was all but ended and that the mysteries which had seemed so
dark and insoluble were cleared up and the inner workings of this
strange conspiracy laid bare before us. One thought, I believe, was
uppermost in both our minds: that the man who now lay dead upon the
floor, a victim of one of his own devilish inventions, was no more
than a brilliant madman.

If his great work on the ape-men of Abyssinia and that greater one
dealing with what he called "the _psycho-hybrids_" had ever had
existence outside his own strange imagination no one was ever likely
to know. But that Dr. Damar Greefe was a genius whom much learning had
made mad, neither of us doubted.

The whole thing seemed the wildest phantasy, and, for a time, in
doubting the reality of the Eurasian's work, I found myself doubting
the evidence of my own senses and seriously wondering if this
possessed witch-cat whose green eyes had moved like Satanic lanterns
throughout the whole phantasmagoria, had any more palpable existence
than the other strange things spoken of by the unscrupulous scientist.

That Gatton's thoughts had been running parallel with my own was
presently made manifest, for:

"Without a moment's delay, Mr. Addison," he said, speaking like a man
newly awakened from slumber, "we must proceed to The Laurels and test
the truth of what we have heard."

He crossed to the door, threw it open, and:

"Sergeant!" he cried. "Come in! The prisoner is dead!"

As the sergeant and the constable who were waiting came into the study
and stood looking in stupefaction at the body stretched on the floor,
I heard the telephone bell ring. I started nervously. That sound
awakened ghastly memories, and I thought of the man who only a few
hours before had met his death in the room where now the bell was
ringing its summons.

I doubted if I could ever spend another night beneath that roof, for
here Dr. Damar Greefe, the arch-assassin, and one of his victims both
had met their ends. I heard the voice of Coates speaking in the
adjoining room, and presently, as Gatton went to the door:

"Miss Merlin wishes to speak to you, sir," said Coates.

I ran eagerly to the 'phone, and: