anular tissue that had been sent to him from a hospital. This tissue
he was very careful to cleanse of blood and then by repeated boilings
prepare for whatever use he had in mind.

As for myself, I could only stand aside and watch his preparations in
silence. Among the many peculiar pieces of apparatus which he had, I
recall one that consisted of a glass cylinder with a siphon tube running
into it halfway up the outside. Inside was another, smaller cylinder.
All about him as he proceeded were glass containers, capillary pipettes,
test tubes, Bunsen burners, and dialyzers of porous parchment paper
whose wrappers described them as "permeable for peptones, but not for
albumins."

Carefully set aside was the blood which he had drawn from Seabury's
veins, allowed to stand till the serum separated out from the clot.
Next he pipetted it into a centrifuge tube and centrifuged it at high
speed, some sixteen thousand revolutions, until the serum was perfectly
clear, with no trace of a reddish tint, nor even cloudy. After that he
drew off the serum into a little tube, covered it with a layer of a
substance called toluol from another sterile pipette, and finally placed
it in an incubator at a temperature of about ninety-eight.

It was well along toward four o'clock when he paused as if some mental
alarm clock had awakened him to another part of the plan of action he
had laid out.

"Walter," he remarked, hastily doffing his stained old laboratory coat,
"I think we'd better drop around to the Vanderveer."

Curious as I had been at the preparations he was making in the
laboratory, I was still glad at even the suggestion of something that my
less learned mind could understand and it was not many seconds before we
were on our way.

Through the lobby of the famous new hostelry we slowly lounged along,
then down a passage into the tea room, where, in the center of a circle
of quaint little wicker chairs and tables, was a glossy dancing floor.

Kennedy selected a table not in the circle, but around an "L,"
inconspicuously located so that we could watch the dancing without
ourselves being watched.

At one end of the room an excellent orchestra was playing. I gazed
about, fascinated. At the dancing tea was represented, apparently, much
wealth--women whose throats and fingers glittered with gold and gems,
men whose very air exuded prosperity--or at least its veneer.

About it all was the glamor of the _risque_. One felt a sort of
c