GHOSTLY and weird was the laboratory in which Dr. Pontius labored from early morning until late at night on the delicate subject of life and all its intriguing mysteries. It would have been an excellent place for an exponent of black art or sorcery, and at this time the shadows of night had stolen into the room making it even more spectral. But the blackness was somewhat relieved by a single, frosted electric lamp that east a pale, phosphorescent glow over a paper-littered desk in a dismal corner.

Hanging along the wall on the right was a row of four human skeletons, complete and erect. On a massive shelf over these stood rows of colored bottles, each bearing at label identifying its contents. The shelf ran the entire distance around the room except where a lone door created a four-foot gap. Directly opposite the grisly human relics, and flanking Pontius' desk, rested two monster test-tubes of thick glass, large enough to accommodate the body of a full-sized man.

Due to the murky gloom of the place, it would have been hard to determine, at a first glance, just what the tubes contained, because they were half-hidden in the enveloping shadows. But a close observer would have been appalled to behold that each lube contained the nude body of a man, seemingly at rest, in the thick-jelly-like fluid that the tube contained. And if one had turned on one of the green-looking globes that hung suspended above each tube he would have been amazed to see the man's body become transparent, so transparent and seemingly delicate that the internal organs could be seen functioning with the steady precision of a watch!

Through the arteries of the bodies he would see coursing a peculiar pea-green fluid, that seemed to glow like liquid emeralds. In one body it flowed in a steady stream, but in the other it was sluggish and thick, gushing through the veins in quick, spasmodic jerks with each throb of a green heart that was located far up on the right side.

It was easy to see that this latter creature was on the verge of death. But the first, his rather cruel, sharp features appearing peaceful and calm, seemed as normal as a man asleep on his test. Both bodies erect, supported by the heavy-fluid, faced the laboratory in a way that Dr. Pontius could glance at either of them from his desk.

He was the son of the famous Edward Pontius, who in 1934 had startled the world with his discovery of the Q-Ray that he said was the wavelength of energy fundamental to the continuance of life. He had been besieged by the press, the government, and scientific societies to divulge his secret more fully, to tell from where this ray emanated and how it was produced. It was known that he had made some astounding experiments of the effect of Q-Rays on animals.

But Pontius refused to release his secret saying, "It is not ready for the world." And when he had passed on, his mantle was naturally worn by his son and scientific heir, the present Clifford Pontius.

Close associates knew that young Clifford had been trained from earliest youth on the mysterious experiments of his father; and when old Edward had died, Clifford, then twenty-six, had hidden himself from the world to "carry on", as he called it. Now Clifford, at the age of seventy, was about to reap the fruits of sixty-five years of unremitting labor between father and son.

A LITTLE less crusty than his father, he believed that the time had now come for the world, which had meanwhile forgotten him, to learn the result of-his discoveries. As he now sat at his desk, wearily slumped in his chair from an all-night' siege at his complete report, he awaited the arrival of a reporter whom his old friend Amesbury, editor of the Globe, was sending for the story. Pontius had chosen the Globe as his medium for the release of the secret to the world, because he knew he could trust the way Amesbury would handle it. There would be no sensationalism—just a simple recounting of the fact that with the continual experimenting of sixty-five years, he had been able to produce two mature, living, thinking, synthetic men!

Pontius looked up from his desk quickly at the sound of a muffled hell. He pressed a 'button on his desk, and a picture flashed on a little screen in front of him—showing a young man on the doorstep, hat in hand.

"Who is it?" asked Pontius into a little tube near his face.

The young man looked around startled. "Why—why, I'm Douglass of the Globe, wherever you are," he answered.

Pontius pressed another button that controlled an automatic electric lock on the outer door and waited. Presently, he heard scraping feet in the hall outside the laboratory and went to the door.

"Come right in, Douglass," he invited, peering through thick, octagon-shaped glasses at the rather tall but efieminate—lo o king young man who stood in the hallway. "I have been waiting for you."

"Thanks, Dr. Pontius," the reporter responded cheerily as he entered. "I'd have been on time but a traffic jam delayed me."

Dr. Pontius granted and slid into his swivel chair at the desk. Douglas sat down near hi m a n d glanced around the room. He was lean with dreamy eyes, but despite his effeminate appearance he seemed well able to take care of himself. Yet at the sight of the grinning skeletons and the synthetic men he gave a perceptible start. The scientist eyed him with a contemplating glance.

"Don't like them, do you, young man?", he asked seriously.

Douglass shuddered. "I always feel strange in the presence of human skeletons, Dr. Pontius; and these things", he added pointing to one of the creatures.

"Quite natural," said the scientist. "Every living thing has some horror for skeletons of its kind. Even a dog will avoid its dead. But you don't feel that way about my children," he smiled nodding toward the figures in the test tubes.

"They don't appear to annoy or bother you," the reporter commented. "Where did you get them—the skeletons?"

Dr. Pontius settled back in his chair and filled his pipe with the same deliberate coolness that he performed the other act.

"The first one is all that remains of 'Killer' Garth who was executed at Sing Sing five months ago," Pontius remarked casually.

Douglass's eyes flashed and he squirmed uneasily in his chair as he regarded the designated skeleton. Pontius continued: "Number two was an unidentified laborer who was drowned six months ago at Camden, New Jersey. Note the curvature of the vertebrae at the neck—"

"No thanks, Dr. Pontius," said Douglass, turning his head. "I've had enough. But why all the skeletons?"

Pontius realized that Douglass was purposely avoiding the subject of the meeting—his two synthetic men. He snapped a tiny lighter into flame and ignited his pipe, contemplated the reporter silently for a moment and then blew out a cloud of smoke. With a nod he drew the young man's attention to the test tubes.

"I am using them to obtain in the surrounding jelly a substance which I need for the making of my synthetic man." There, he had shot his bolt. He regarded Douglass' awestruck face as he continued. "In other words, the skeletons will dissolve into my fluid until they are all gone. The fluid will be enriched by a substance necessary to the production of life."

Douglass almost jumped out of his chair when he comprehended what the two test tubes in the shadow contained. He stared at them for fully five minutes. before it dawned upon him that the contents were really living men. His handsome face went strangely pale and took on a ghostly appearance under the glow of the feeble lamp that scarcely touched the gloom enshrouding the tubes. S0 this was the mysterious story Amesbury had sent him for!

But could it be true? He felt a shiver steal up his spine as he contemplated the grotesque creatures and turned quickly to see the scientist studying him intently.

"I DON'T envy your job," Douglass said in a half whisper. "But do you mean that you can make new men; living, thinking men out of that green jelly and bones?"

"Partly, yes," replied Pontius, sucking at his pipe. "The creation of life is no longer a mystery, at least to me, but the solution lies deeper than dead men's bones."

"Of course," commented Douglass with a strange sense of reality. "Still, I think, if I were you, I would be afraid of the wrath of the Super Intelligence that created all life at the beginning. Synthetic creation of human life by man, it seems to me., is a violation of all the laws of God."

Dr. Pontius shrugged. "The Super Intelligence is the mind, young man," ho said bluntly. "All life originally evolved through the crystallization of a colloid. The idea that one creator made all things is n primitive superstition. At least that is my opinion and it is founded on two generations of research and experimentation in the realms of material physiology. by my father and myself."

"You are an atheist, then?" Douglass inquired, amazed.

Dr. Pontius' pipe had gone out. He scrutinized his guest with an amused look as he applied the lighter again.

"I'm afraid my views on religion would be uninteresting to you, Douglass," he said simply. "It is a delicate subject to discuss and not injure the feelings of another; so. let us get down to the business of your visit."

Douglass' face brightened. He had discovered himself forming unkindly opinions of this old scientist for his seemingly dogmatic views. The idea that the Creator had made all things had been drilled into Douglass from childhood by devout parents and he resented anything to the contrary—despite his broad-mindedness. He was glad to change the subject, for he had no stomach for an argument with the scientist and, above all, he wanted the story.

The reporter nodded. "Then you can proceed, Dr. Pontius," he said, taking a sheaf of folded foolscap from his inner pocket in preparation to take notes. "You need not deviate from scientific parlance. I am well schooled in science and will understand your terms quite amply. Biology has always fascinated me. I am glad of this opportunity lo hear an expert discuss it."

"That's fine," applauded Dr. Pontius with a mischievous grin. "I want you to get it right. Don't hesitate to interrupt if I get too deep for you."

CHAPTER II

The Story of Pontius

FOR two solid hours the scientists voice droned out in the dismal room. It seemed smothered and stifled by the closeness of the place. The reporter's pencil literally flew over his papers. Dr. Pontius talked steadily, touching many details of his discoveries. But he talked about it abstractly. He did not seem eager to have the world know that he, of all men, had been the first to solve the mysteries of life.

If Douglass had thought himself well-schooled in science, he soon discovered that he was pitifully ignorant. Many times was he forced to interrupt the scientist for a simpler explanation of a detail. Dr. Pontius rallied to his aid on each occasion. Again and again he gestured toward the test tubes. Each time the reporter experienced chilling sensations running up and down his spinal column.

The story that Pontius told was, in effect, the history of two generations of unremitting devotion to an idea. Two men, father and son, following each other in the silence of this laboratory, watching over bits of microscopic material, that were finally to become men. Not perfect men. Pontius emphasized this fact to Douglass. And to illustrate it, he took the fascinated reporter in front of one of the bodies and switching on the globe suspended above, illuminated the internal structure of the creature. He showed Douglass that instead of having blood coursing through his veins, the creature had a green fluid that Pontius called, Xyone. And further, as a memento that the hand of the potter might occasionally shake, he showed that the synthetic man's heart was on the right side instead of the left. There were other differences, too, that set the synthetic man apart from our own flesh and blood, but these differences only served to Douglass to heighten the reality of this amazing creation. Leaving the creature who, seemed to be asleep in his enveloping green fluid, the two men returned to their seals and Pontius went on with his story.

The original discovery that the elder Pontius had made was the creating of a single-celled organism from agar, a derivative of sea weed, that had been treated at various temperatures and in various solutions. It was all part of a preconceived idea of Edward Pontius that under the proper conditions animal life could be produced from plants. That was where the Q-Ray came in. Edward Pontius had experimented with the effect of cosmic rays on animal life, and found that they were fatal in large doses. So were the much longer radium rays and the still longer X and ultraviolet rays. But each of these in proper doses was beneficial to life. Here indeed was the beginning of a puzzle that the giant mind of the elder Pontius could unravel. Might not one of these short wavelength radiations be the one that coming from outer space had caused plant life to. change miraculously into animal protoplasm.

The Q-Ray was the answer. Lying between the gamma rays from radium and the cosmic ray,¹ they were found to be a narrow band of radiations unexplored by science. Perhaps they were unexplored because of the peculiar conditions necessary to their propagation. And further, because the conditions necessary to produce them were so delicate. their presence had not even been detected.

1: Radiant energy is classified according to the wavelengths of the rays. There are the visible light rays whose wavelength is between .0000206 and.0000155 inches. Wavelengths of energy longer than the longest light wave gives us the infrared heat waves and still longer waves gives us radio waves shorter than the short waves of light are the ultra-violet, still shorter are the X—ray which are about.0000004 inches in length. Gamma rays or radium arc still shorter being about 1/1000 the length of the X-ray while at very end of the spectrum we have so far discovered, are the cosmic rays being less than a thousandth of the length of the gamma rays. The Q-ray therefore is an extremely short wavelength lying between the gamma ray and the cosmic ray.

But Edward Pontius had discovered that on projecting the Q-Ray on the agar he produced a microscopic bit of living matter. And when the ray was intensified, the microscopic organism, in a miraculous way, began to subdivide and grow and become more complex. The process of the increasing complexity of simple organisms that took hundreds of thousands of years in nature took days in the laboratory of Edward Pontius.

Feverishly he set to work to yest this amazing fact to the fullest. After inadvertently telling the world about his Q-Ray he saw his mistake and retired to his laboratory for the rest of his life. Month after month. year after year—testing, retesting, discarding, starting over; he finally evolved a process that had finally culminated in the two synthetic men his son had produced.

What it meant was that the process of the evolution of a single-celled organism into a mature man, which had taken hundreds of millions of years had been compressed under the action of the Q-Ray into sixty-five years! Douglass gasped when the significance of these words penetrated his mind.

"Of course," Pontius said slowly, "when my father died and left me his experiments I knew I would succeed. All I had to do was to carry them on; and allow the half-formed creatures to continue evolving. But now they are finished, badly finished, perhaps. But I know that they live. I can arouse them to life at any moment I wish."

He paused. "I am old. I have no heir; and I want the result of this work to-be given to the world. The world must do with it as it will."

"And your creatures really live." Douglass said when he could find his voice.

Pontius nodded. "Only yesterday I saw that one there," and he pointed to one of the imprisoned men, "making efforts to get out of his tube. The human desire for freedom; of course, and that fellow is a particularly pugnacious member of his species."

FROM the streets outside came a sudden shriek of police sirens. Douglass sat up with a jolt. The scientist appraised him quizzically and glanced at the tubes. The reporter heard him mutter something incomprehensible as he tensed in his swivel chair. He glanced toward the two synthetic men.

The green, fire-shot eyes of one were roving, over the room. Douglass clutched his papers and pencil lightly in a trembling fist, and watched silently in awe. Dr. Pontius half—rose from his chair in a tense attitude Then the synthetic creature lifted a feeble hand and ran it, nervously across his face. A cry of fear clogged the reporter's throat. He struggled to down it, but it came forth in a terrified grunt.

"Good God!" he groaned. "He's coming to!"

"Silence!" hissed Dr. Pontius severely. "Those damned sirens! Their vibrations have awakened my subjects before I was ready for them!"

Douglass watched the synthetic beings in peculiar fascination. His brows were contracted into a frown that bordered on stark terror. It seemed to him that something like an electric current passed from the tubes to Dr. Pontius, making him as rigid as steel. The scientist gripped the arms of his chair so tightly that his knuckles showed white and bloodless.

So distinct was the impression of the reporter that there was some mystic, unfathomable tie between Dr. Pontius and his synthetic creations, that he almost dropped his pencil. With a startled gasp he pocketed it safely with his papers and fumbled nervously for a cigarette. His taut nerves were shattering and he had a strange premonition that something was going to happen. Something dire and untoward. A weird chill seemed to permeate the room suggesting violence and death. It made the reporter experience hot and cold sensations from head to foot.

Dr. Pontius watched his subjects in silence. A sense of awe and apprehension placed itself upon him. There was a marked change of expression in the faces of the synthetic men in the tubes. Cone was their seemingly lifeless sleep. Their emerald-green eyes that were flecked with fire stared out into the gloomy laboratory with unblinking steadiness. The bodies began to squirm suddenly, weakly. The creature that had appeared on the verge of death had strangely taken on new life. He showed even more strength now than the other.

Then Douglass felt the full force of their stare. As they swung their fiery eyes upon him, he felt a sensation of nausea in his vitals. His stomach seemed to turn over completely. There was a powerful something in the eyes of the creature that made him shudder and feel sick. It seemed to him that a faint, diabolical grin formed on their lips, remaining as if glued there.

"God!" he mumbled under his breath. "What a terrible curse they are to humanity!"

His eyes flashed grimly as he fought to remove them from the leering faces behind the glass. Dr. Pontius eyed him thoughtfully and laughed quietly. He spoke in an almost inaudible whisper that made the reporter start.

"I will ask you to remain as my guest tonight, Douglass," Pontius hissed softly, tensely. "I will need your help." The reporter stiffened. He stared for a moment apprehensively at the scientist, then shook his head.

"I'm sorry, sir," he whispered nervously. "I cannot possibly remain. The service is waiting for my press copy—"

"Tut! Tut!" Pontius countered. "Unmistakeably you are afraid."

Douglass smiled grimly, his lips feeling strangely tight across the teeth. "I am uneasy," he snapped in muffled tones, "but not afraid. I have seen men hanged and electrocuted, and dead, decayed bodies in the police morgues. As a reporter I've had to handle some, but never have I encountered such a horrible experience as this. No, Dr. Pontius, I am not afraid. I beg to he excused, nevertheless."

Help Needed

DR. Pontius shrugged resignedly. "Of course I would not hold you here against your wishes," he muttered disappointedly. "I thought you would welcome the chance to aid me as a means of bettering your story. It will be necessary to remove my subjects from the tubes tonight. It is too big a job for me to handle alone. I will have to call on my niece for help if you insist on going."

"You mean you would get a woman's help?" Douglass inquired dumbly, incredulously. "Why, you don't even know what the creatures might do!"

"You are correct, young man," said Pontius stiffly. "I don't know what will happen. But Allanna, my niece, has often helped in the laboratory. In fact she seems quite fond of my subjects."

Douglass shuddered again and cursed his own emotions of fear. He was afraid to remain and knew it. Something in his subconscious mind advised him to go, but a greater force held him. He could hardly picture a woman, doubtlessly young, handling such awful creatures as the tubes contained. He realized that if the subjects became uncontrollable. old Dr. Pontius would be little protection for his niece. What then? He would never be able to forgive himself if anything happened in the place after his departure.

Before he could prevent himself from giving his final answer, the words fairly splurged from his tight lips. "Then I'll remain, Dr. Pontius," he whispered, squirming uneasily in his seat. "not because I want to, but for your protection. Something might happen. I have a hunch—"

"That's fine, Douglass," the scientist interjected. "Just remove your coat. I'll give you a robe after I call Allanna."

"You—you are going to bring your niece in anyhow?" the reporter gasped brokenly.

Dr. Pontius nodded grimly. "She wouldn't want to miss it." he mumbled. "In fact she asked that I let her in on the work. I'll need her, too, for she's a trained nurse."

The scientist turned to his desk phone, lifted the receiver and pressed a button on the call-box. Douglass thought he heard the faint tinkle of s bell not tar away and wondered if Allanna lived with her uncle in the big house that was built around the laboratory. His thoughts were diverted by Pontius' muffled voice.

"Allanna," the scientist half-whispered. "Can you come to the laboratory at once? The time has arrived to remove the subjects from the tubes."

The reporter shivered slightly as he began removing his coat. The sound of a musical voice reached him as it came over the wire to the scientist.

"Why of course," he heard Allanna's reply. "I was just wondering when it would happen. But isn't it a trifle early?"

"Ordinarily they should not have been removed until the end of this week," Dr. Pontius said, controlling a voice that was filled with excitement and suspense. "The awakening is a bit premature due to the vibrations from some sirens. Then you will be right down?"

"Right away, Uncle Cliff," she replied a trifle eagerly. "Anyone there to help?"

Dr. Pontius automatically glanced at the reporter. Douglass stood coatless, rolling his sleeves.

"Mr. Douglass, a reporter, is here, Allanna," responded the scientist. "He will help."

"Oh," said the feminine voice. "Not much there, but it will come in handy. I'll be right down."

CHAPTER III

The Creatures Live

THE reporter's face reddened and his ears stung at the insinuation of the invisible woman. Before he had time to decide if he resented it, Dr. Pontius grinned up at him, went softly to a closet and handed him a linen gown.

"Protect your clothes, Douglass," he said quickly. "You'll find this an unpleasant job."

Douglass agreed silently that it was not the least bit inviting. Inwardly he rebelled at the thought of touching the greasy subjects in the huge tubes, but he steeled himself to the impending ordeal. Quickly he donned the gown, then glanced at the synthetic creatures.

The diabolical grins that had been on their lips had given away to murderous leers. The reporter recoiled a trifle when one of them cast him a sidelong glance. Twin jets of fire seemed to come from those fiery eyes to sear his very soul. They bit into him like blades. He turned to Pontius.

"Are you sure that it will be safe to release them, doc?" he inquired tensely. The scientist tied the belt of his gown behind his back and looked at the reporter calmly.

"Certainly!" he replied nonchalantly. "Moreover it must be done, otherwise they will die and my life's work will go for nothing."

"What do you plan to do with them?" Douglass blurted.

"That, I have not fully decided," Dr. Pontius stated, advancing. "For the present, I'm going to try to teach them to be house servants and drill a little sense into them."

"Then they will emerge from the tubes dumb and witless?"

Dr. Pontius laughed quietly, but Douglass noticed that it was a dull, humorless laugh. Then his face sobered and his eyes sparkled with the mysterious light of functioning genius.

"An infant is dumb and witless when it is born, Douglass," he nodded. "My subjects are men in stature but will emerge from the test tubes with the intellect of a five-year old. I will be forced to develop their brains, such as they have. The brain runs second in all human mysteries and while I have succeeded in creating synthetic life, I do not profess to have solved the mystery of thought and subconscious phenomena. Perhaps the next experiment will show better results in that line."

The reporter gasped aloud with a sucking in of breath. "Then you are actually going to try it again?" he asked, mouth agape.

Dr. Pontius was on the verge of making a reply when the door bell tinkled. His attention was diverted and drawn lo the lock control. He went to his desk hurriedly and pressed the button. Douglass glanced at the door expectantly and in a moment it swung open. Into the dismal room walked the only bit of sunshine he had seen since arriving hours before.

Allanna was like a beautiful flower in an ugly vase. She was young and fairly radiated sunshine. Her cheeks seemed to glow even under the subdued illumination of the dreary, dismal laboratory; and her eyes, a deeper shade of blue than the scientist's, sparkled with a frank, understanding tenderness. She was dressed in the spotless white of a trained nurse. From under her starched cap protruded curling whisps of auburn hair.

Douglass felt that never before had he beheld such a beautiful girl. Before her arrival, he had mentally visioned her as skinny, curt and undemonstrative. He was completely bowled over now and he gaped at her in astonishment when she paused a few feet away from him.

"Good evening!" she said in a soft, musical voice. "You are Mr. Douglass?"

The newspaper man shook his head eagerly, forgetting entirely that he was immersed in the dreary gloom of a womb of science.

"Douglass—Morton Douglass," he stammered. "You are Allanna, Dr. Pontius' niece?"

She smiled warmly. "Uncle calls me Allie," she said. "I've read and digested many of your scientific articles, Mr. Douglass, and found them charmingly written and precisely correct."

"Thank you, Miss Allanna," he grinned. "There's nothing more disgusting than rotten scientific reports. I strive to get mine correct. That is why I am here tonight—to get your uncle's startling discoveries first hand."

They were interrupted by Dr. Pontius. "No need to introduce you two," he chuckled quietly. "You'll get along. Now let's get busy. Allie, you know what to do. Mr. Douglass will help me with the tubes."

SUDDENLY Dr. Pontius snapped an electric switch. Instantly the laboratory became a place of brilliant light. The young Mr. Douglass gave a start. His pulse beat a tattoo at his temples. Quickly he glanced around the room. The gloom had vanished and he found that the place was not so dismal as it had been under the glow of the single frosted desk lamp. Yet the peculiar revulsion for it all still clung to him. The four human skeletons stood out now in high relief against the wall. Their sightless sockets seemed concentrated upon him. He winced at a discovery.

The skeletons were not wired at all as he had suspected! They were indeed fresh, green bones partly dissolved in the devastating green jelly! With a sinking feeling he withdrew his popping eyes from them and glanced at Allie. She was making ready two operating tables in the center of the room. Her back was turned to him so that she did not observe the panicky look in his eyes and the puller in his cheeks.

He was glad of it for he did not want her to think him a coward. He could have faced death easily knowing what confronted him. But here in this place of unknown things, unnatural life and inhuman sorcery, he was all but completely unnerved. Nor could he have been blamed for it. Only long association with such dreadful things could make a man or woman indifferent to them. Neither Allie or her uncle minded the strange combination of life and death in the least.

The place now seemed like a sepulchre. The silence was oppressing. The very atmosphere was filled with a high tension, as if a bomb lay in the middle of the place with a burning fuse nearing the deadly charge of explosives. Douglass sensed danger of an unknown degree and turned to the tubes to see the synthetic creatures appraising him greedily.

Dr. Pontius motioned to him from where he stood, just beside the first tube. inside of it the creature leered, his lips curled into the snarl of a savage jungle boast. The reporter looked hard at him and found that he was no longer transparent. He glanced at the other man. Gone also was his transparency and he appraised the scientist questioningly. As though he sensed what lay in the reporter's mind, Dr. Pontius voluntarily enlightened him.

"They were made transparent by this N- Ray projector," he pointed to the globe above them. "I arranged that so I could see what was taking place within their anatomies at all times. But you will find that they have a healthy look now."

The newspaper man looked at them again. Indeed they did appear healthy. Their skin seemed like green silk and as smooth as silk. But it still seemed ghastly and unearthly. Something about it created a sense of horror in the reporter. His soul rebelled against them and he wondered if Miss Allanna or her uncle had any such feelings.

Before he had time to inquire about it, Dr. Pontius announced himself ready to remove his subjects. The reporter's blood pounded. His lips tightened across his teeth again and his hands went into balls of muscle and bone voluntarily. He watched the scientist as he began removing the sustaining bands from about the tube. Doug-less felt his flesh creep. He stiffened strangely when Allie came up and stood beside him, their elbows brushing. She spoke to him in a very low whisper.

"Aren't you thrilled, Mr. Douglass?" she asked, bubbling over with excitement. "I think it's wonderful!"

"Yes, er—lam, Miss Allanna," he replied shakily. "I'm so thrilled that my spine shivers!"

She gave an almost silent laugh and he felt her deep-blue eyes upon him. Fearful lest she discover his weakness, he did not look at her, but watched instead, the creature within the tube that Dr. Pontius was working on. The leering subject was gazing at his creator now, the tips of his fingers working convulsively as though eager to get at the throat of the scientist.

"Aren't you the least bit afraid, Miss Allanna?" Douglass blurted suddenly. She chuckled.

"Not in the least," she replied sincerely. "Are you, Mr. Douglass?"

Delicate Work

HE ventured a glance at her. She was watching her uncle. Her face was aglow with expectantcy. Not a single quiver of revulsion ran through her and the reporter marvelled at her remarkable equamnity in the face of such horrors. She was as calloused to them as her distinguished uncle.

"Now," said Pontius crisply. "One more thing to do, and then we'll be ready to remove them."

He wheeled over to the tube a large stand, the lower part of which held a box on which were a row of black buttons. A long thick rod projected upward to a queer-looking metal globe. Pontius adjusted the stand in front of his creation, and sighting along it for a moment, pressed one of the black buttons. Instantly a sharp dazzling beam of light, emanating from the globe, bathed the synthetic man in its glow. For a moment, as Douglass gazed in awe, the creature remained motionless then his arms began to move slowly up and down through the confining liquid, and his features took on the look of one awakening from a long sleep.

"Now, Douglass," said Pontius suddenly, "on the other side of the tube, you will find a crank. Turn it slowly in a clockwise direction until the tube is inclined fifteen degrees. Then we'll open up the tube and release our good friend."

Hesitantly the reporter went to obey. He grasped the handles as directed and was amazed to feel the tube slowly incline. When the inclination had reached fifteen degrees, he opened up the tube, leaving the synthetic man exposed as though he stood upright in a glass coffin.

Expecting to see the creature fall out of the tube and at him, Douglass quickly set the half-tube aside and partly crouched. The being stared at him strangely but made no effort to get out.

"I don't believe Joe Agar would hurt a flea," laughed Allanna, amused at the reporter's actions.

Douglass calmed easily. "Joe Agar?" he squinted at her, curiously. "Is that what you are going to call the creature?" "What else could we name him, Mr. Douglass?" Allanna smiled. "Agar is the substance from which they sprung. Hence the name. The other one is Jack. Their names are Joe and Jack Agar."

"Brothers under the skin?" the reporter grimaced.

"Deeper than that, Mr. Douglass," the girl replied quickly.

Her attention was suddenly drawn to her uncle who spoke softly at her.

"Are you ready to receive him, Allie?" the scientist asked without pausing in his work. "Strait-jackets for emergency, ether and all that?"

"Yes, doctor," she responded, dropping all interest in everything but her professional duty as a trained nurse.

"Then take your post," Dr. Pontius ordered curtly. He turned to the reporter. "Douglass, you stand ready to support the subject in event his weakness causes him to topple when I let the jelly out into the hole at the bottom of the tube."

"Weak, eh?" Douglass muttered to himself. "I'm damned glad of that. Makes me feel better."

"What's that, young man?" Dr. Pontius snapped sharply.

"Nothing, sir," responded the reporter. "I was just humming a tune."

"Good!" ejaculated the scientist. "I like to have around me, men who are fearless and callous. You are improving, sir."

"Thank you, doc," Douglass said evenly. Then to himself: "If he only knew the truth!"

Douglass was so utterly startled by a sudden groan from the curled lips of Joe Agar that his face turned even more pale. The creature sagged forward a trifle as the jelly slowly filtered through the now opened hole. Instinctively but revulsively, the reporter reached forward to support him. His hands touched the greasy body. It felt as clammy as the skin of a snake and it made him tremble. He felt his flesh creep, but stood rigid, both hands under the armpit of the artificial man.

CHAPTER IV

The First Death

JOE Agar swung his steady unblinking gaze upon the newspaper man. Douglass avoided the green eyes by concentrating on the creature's hairless head and aboriginal brow. He shook almost violently, for the somber, ominous atmosphere with its invisible menace, was striking deeply at his soul. Danger seemed to lurk on every hand and the reporter sensed it even more when the final protecting fluid had slipped from the creature's body.

Instantly Joe Agar toppled limply into the reporter's arms. The scientist quickly went to his aid and together they carried the weak synthetic creature to a table. Allanna had spread upon it clean sheets and blankets. She stood at its head, a mask in one hand and an ether container in the other. Evidently they had not expected the creature to emerge in such a weakened condition and they were ready to subdue him if need be. He was placed under the blankets and the girl laid aside her instruments of mercy.

"He is too weak to be harmful," she said calmly, "and too feeble to stand an anasthetic."

"That is correct. Allie," said her uncle. "His respiration is dangerously low. Just cover him well and let him sleep until morning. I think he'll be alright. Now Mr. Douglass, if you don't mind, we'll remove the other one."

Silently they returned to the tubes leaving Miss Allanna bending over Jed Agar with a stethoscope attached to her ears. He heard her gasp and glanced over his shoulders. She was looking after her uncle questioningly but said nothing. There came a dismal groan from the table. Dr. Pontius turned suddenly and retraced his steps toward it.

"What was that, Allie?" he asked apprehensively, as though sensing something untoward in the sound that had escaped his subject's lips.

Miss Allanna looked up at him curiously. "I-1 don't know," she replied softly. "Unless he is dying."

Douglass came up beside her and looked into the grotesque face on the sheets. Joe Agar seemed to be breathing his last. His lips were still curled into a foreboding sneer and his lids were wide. A purple rash stood out on his brown and a greenish liquid perspiration fairly surged from his overlarge pores.

"Why, he's dying!" exclaimed the reporter with a feeling akin to genuine joy. Through his mind raced a wild thought. "I hope he does!" he thought. "A thing dies, then we'll only have one, his brother, to reckon with! No doubt about it, they seemed to have taken a form of life to purposely revenge themselves on man who violated all laws of nature!"

"Silence!" snapped Dr. Pontius with a scowl. He reached up suddenly and took a green bottle from the shelf. As if ordered to do so by mental telepathy, Allanna pulled one of Joe Agar's arms out into the open. Dr. Pontius emptied the contents of the bottle into a glass tube under the table and calmly began to transfer it to the veins of the dying subject. Douglass shuddered as a silver tube was inserted in the artery of the arm, and turned away, appalled. Something drew him to the other creature. He paused in front of the big tube, to stare meditatively at the leering features of Jack Agar.

He felt an urge to bolt the place, then suddenly he came down to earth. If he ran out on this terrifying experiment, he would never hear the end of it. After all, he was a newspaper man on an important story. He must continue with the ordeal whether he wanted to or not despite the fact that Jack Agar was going to be more difficult to handle than the other.

Jack Agar virtually chewed at his lips in a strange, sinister emotion of savagery. Muscles seemed to bulge under his silky akin. His fingers twitched with the restlessness of a mad man. Douglass realized that there was nothing weak about him. He beard Dr. Pontius emit a dismayed groan and turned. Allanna was working a small pulmotor frantically, but the scientist waved her aside.

"Never mind, Allanna," he said ominously. "He's done! Dead!"

THE reporter shrugged as she pulled a sheet over the greenwhite face. Across his lips flashed a smile. Piously he Glam', Ed upward and shook his head as though to offer thanks to the invisible Creator of all things, for having interfered with this horrible violation of nature's laws. He heard Allanna stifle a sob, and wondered if she mourned the death of the synthetic creature. But no, it was not that. She sympathized with her uncle who stood beside the bed dejectedly. like a man who has lost his all. He jerked erect suddenly and came toward the reporter.

"We're not beaten yet, Douglass!" he muttered. "I rather suspected Joe Agar would pass on, but I have little fear for Jack. He'll live to prove my father's discoveries to the world."

"I hope so, Dr. Pontius," lied Douglass glibly. Yet he felt genuine sorrow for the old scientist who had spent his life to evolve man, then be forced to watch the results of his genius die at the point of success. "He is indeed filled with vigor and—uncontrolled deviltry."

"You are right!" Dr. Pontius replied promptly. "He has developed far beyond his brother. That is why I valued his life more. Though he has scarcely less than the brute capacity of the simians and will be hard to control. Still, I have no fear of him, for I will bend him to my will by hypnotic suggestion."

Douglass somewhat doubted the genuineness of the scientist's expressed fearlessness. There was something in his tone now that belied a kind of fear for the creature in the tube, but the reporter argued with himself that it might be a tone of sadness at the death of Joe Agar. Yet his uneasiness increased and he stirred restlessly while Dr. Pontius dismantled the tube. He watched with unrestrained forebodings.

Jack Agar possessed the strength of a maniac. This might appear strange considering the fact that the creature had never been permitted to move freely. But Dr. Pontius had used special care to build up his muscular system. Scarcely had the reporter removed the front section of the tube than the synthetic man lashed out with a frenzied left hand to clutch at him.

"Hadn't you better use a hypodermic needle on him, Dr. Pontius?" he asked, trembling. Then he' added in a grim whisper: "I'll sock him square on the button if I have to!"

"No! No! No!" said Dr. Pontius severely. "The shock may forever weaken his senses. Do not raise a hand against him, young man! I warn you!"

Douglass suddenly sensed the nearness of Allanna. She had crept up unnoticed to watch the work of releasing the bestial subject and had sen Jack Agar's savage thrust at the reporter. There was an unmistakable expression of alarm on her features, yet she seemed calm and collected. She peered intently into-the maniacal face of the struggling creature, her deep-blue eyes boring into him steadily.

As though compelled to do so by some powerful, invisible force, Jack Agar gradually ceased his struggles. The green fire seemed to vanish from his eyes. They became soft and languid as the eyes of a child looking up into his mother's kindly face appealingly. Still, Douglass thought he detected an evil gleam in the look. His gaze traveled from the creature to Allanna. Across her lips flashed a pleased smile.

"Be a good boy, Jack," she whispered softly, never moving her eyes from him for an instant. But whether Jack Agar understood what she said, Douglass could not decide. He very much doubted it however and wondered what force she had applied to him to bring him to submission. Had she used hypnotic suggestion or just plain hypnotism on a weaker will? Or was the creature merely fascinated by the charm of the girl and did the evil gleam in his eyes spell ill for her'-' Whatever it was, she had certainly subdued him, her eyes soothing him like music soothes the savage beast.

Dr. Pontius glanced at her presently. "He'll he alright now, Allie," he said smoothly. "You may rest a moment. You must be tired now."

"Oh, I'm alright, Uncle Mark," she responded, trembling slightly. "You can go ahead. The table is ready."

CHAPTER V

Uneasy Hours

THE scientist gave her a warm, affectionate smile and turned again to the tube. Quickly he surveyed the silent, foreboding subject whose eyes followed Allanna as she turned away. Douglass crouched instinctively expecting the creature to leap from his coffin of glass. But Jack Agar made no such move. He seemed thoroughly fascinated by the girl and watched her steadily through unblinking eyes. The reporter was amazed to see Dr. Pontius lead him easily from his container directly to the table. He followed cautiously, tensely, ready for any sudden outbreak from the synthetic man.

With his subject prone on the table, Dr. Pontius lost no time in strapping him down by the ankles and wrists. Jack Agar made no protest but kept his orbs glued on Allanna. Reaching to the wall quickly, the scientist grasped a cord and lowered a great, green-shaded lamp of the same proportions as the table. Without hesitation he switched on a brilliant light that sprayed the subject with an emerald glare. Jack Agar writhed as though he lay on a bed of coals. His muscles bulged and snapped; then Dr. Pontius flicked his open hand before his face like at hypnotist working on a subject. The synthetic man ceased his struggles and lay still under the flood of light.

The reporter heaved a sigh of relief. He opened his clenched fists and relaxed his numbed fingers. The nails had bitten into the palms, leaving crescent scars. His hands trembled in reaction to the released tension. Suddenly he found himself weak, very weak. Dr. Pontius appraised him, glancing at his watch.

"It is after midnight, Douglass," he said, showing no reaction to the strain and uncertainly of his work. "Perhaps you had better retire. Allie will show you to a guest room."

"You sure you won't need me again tonight, Dr. Pontius?" the reporter inquired dismally.

The scientist nodded. "No, Douglass," he said simply. "I will not need you. Let me thank you for your help."

They shook hands. "Then if you don't mind, I will retire," replied Douglass, rising. He walked over and stood beside the table for a moment to stare at the synthetic man. Jack lay perfectly still now, as still as his sheet-covered brother near him. His unblinking eyes stared upward at the brilliant, illuminated tubes in the flood-lamp.

Douglass felt a nauseating sensation surging through him as he peered into those dread orbs. They reminded him of a picture of Satan he had once seen. The eyes had been wide and menacing. He felt the roots of his hair tangle. He turned away with a desire to quit the place forever. When he confronted Allanna he recalled quickly ilial he had a hunch, s persistent premonition that something was going to happen. Seeing her again caused him to forget instantly his desire to leave. Her sunny smile again captivated him.

She held his coat and hat in her hands. "You will not need the gown any more, Mr. Douglass," she said. Her voice was soft and cheery. He had forgotten about the white linen gown he wore and quickly shed it. She helped him with his coat and together they went out of the ghostly laboratory, leaving Dr. Pontius alone with his skeletons and his subjects, life and death and evil shadows hovering about him.

"Is your uncle going to work all night, Miss Allanna?" the reporter inquired as they entered a door leading off from the hallway and began mounting a pair of winding stairs that creaked under their weight. The sounds made the reporter shiver, for they sounded mysterious, spectral.

"I do not believe so," she said promptly. "But he has much work to do. You see, he plans to preserve the body of Joe Agar and intends to place it in the preservatives to-night."

"Going to pickle him?" the reporter gasped.

The clear ring of her corresponding laugh made him turn to look at her. She flashed him a serious glance. Could nothing ruffle this girl's cool indifference to the stark realities of the place? He wandered if anything could suspend or break her callousness even temporarily.

"That's it precisely," she commented softly. "The delicate texture of artificial flesh makes preservation necessary at once. Now that Joe Agar is dead, Uncle Cliff wants the preserved body to go to Tyburn College."

THE house of Dr. Pontius, the reporter soon discovered, was almost as weird and spectral as his laboratory. Indirect illumination made it a place of lurking shadows that seemed to blend perfectly with the mystery of the man himself. In the living room to which Allanna guided him were many preserved specimens of life, arranged in glass containers on shelves and pedestals. The entire room shrieked silence and dark mystery. Allanna was the only bright object in the place and Douglass was glad to rest his tired eyes upon her sunny face and supple form.

She invited him to the divan and for the first time since his arrival he regained some of his composure.

""Did I hear you say you were busy every evening, Miss Allanna?" he inquired strategically to pave a way for future meetings. She appraised him cooly.

"Oh, no," she replied, suppressing a yawn. "I have several nights open."

"That's excellent!" he applauded happily. "How about the others?"

"Well," she said mischievously, "you wouldn't expect a girl to be without at least one boy friend, would you?"

The reporter felt a vague feeling of jealousy surge through him. His lips tightened strangely again, but in jealous embarrassment.

"Not a beautiful girl like you," he said, slightly confused. "But I was hoping that I might see you more than several nights a week."

Allanna shrugged and was about to reply when Dr. Pontius came suddenly into the room. He was smiling oddly.

"You are indeed a fast-working young man, Douglass," he said. "I wish you luck!" He turned to his niece. "Hadn't you better retire for your beauty sleep, Allie?"

Allanna yawned and stood up. "I believe I shall, Uncle Mark," she responded. "If Mr. Douglass will excuse me.... "

"Of course," said the reporter, his face stinging. "Good night!"

Dr. Pontius cut him short. "Come along, young man," he ordered. "I'll take you to your room. The butler will call you for breakfast."

Side by side they followed Allanna to the second floor. The house was as silent as a tomb. Allanna flashed them a warm smile as she turned into a room from the hall above. Douglass' blood raced at it, for it had told him much.

AS he entered his room directly across the hall from the one taken by Allanna, Douglass felt a strange feeling come over him. Just why, he did not understand, but he seemed to sense the presence of death. Something akin to a cold current shot through his veins as he picked up a pair of silken guest pajamas. He managed to control himself as he spread them out and speculated on the size. After undressing he. climbed into bed and counted sheep until he fell into a troubled, restless slumber.

During the following hour, his subconscious mind ran the entire gamut of sensations. Wild dreams and nightmares made him toss and roll. His lips became feverish. From them escaped weird sounds that in themselves even went to further terrorize him. They appeared to him to come from the curling lips of the synthetic men. The body of Joe Agar seemed to hover over him like a dismal ghost. The wide, Satanic orbs of the living Jack stared at him, burning like twin fires and searing his soul.

Then something happened that brought Douglass wide awake. What was it? Was his imagination running wild or had his ears detected the mint, stealthy footsteps of a bare-looted prowler? Sitting rigid in bed, he waited for the sounds to reach his ears again. The room was pitch dark. In front of his eyes danced gray, ominous shapes, the fancies of his strained vision. Suddenly he heard what he thought sounded like a dull thump, as though a body had collided with a wall or the floor. Then the silence became ominous.

Trembling from head to foot and chilled to the marrow with a cold, clammy feeling, he softly got out of bed and glided to the door. A skylight over the hall bathed it in a pale, phosphorescent glow from a high moon. At a glance he saw that Dr. Pontius' door was open. His room was beside Allanna's and the scientist had closed his door on entering. Douglass had seen that, but why was it open now? Was Dr. Pontius prowling around the house? He wondered if the scientist had made the unnatural sounds.

AS he watched the open door, Douglass thought he saw a green ghastly face appear in it for a moment. His blood ran cold and his knees hanged together. Not a sound reached his ears, altho he listened with his hands cupped behind them.

"Clang! Clang! Clang!" The great antique clock in the living room chimed suddenly. Douglass almost screamed. Then a grotesque face appeared in the scientist's doorway. The reporter recoiled like a snake. Almost at once he heard the pad of bare feet in the hall and by sheer force of will was he able to look out again.

The hulking form of Jack Agar was retreating slowly down the hall! From his Wrists and ankles dangled the tom straps that had held him to the table in the laboratory!

"My God!" Douglass groaned through dry, parched lips. As though bearing, Jack Agar paused abruptly and turned his fiery eyes back from whence he had come. They seemed like the orbs of a tiger flaming in the night. Then he turned suddenly and entered another room, two doors beyond the one occupied by the scientist. More silence followed, beating down upon the reporter like the blows of a triphammer.

What had Jack Agar done in the scientist's room? It seemed to Douglass that his hunch had materialized in the dead of a horrible night. But had the synthetic man actually killed his creator? The reporter could wait no longer to find out. With a bound he leaped into the hall and ran silently to the opposite room. Without hesitating he entered, fumbled for a light-switch near the frame, and found it. The switch snapped.

As part of his duty as a reporter, Douglass, had seen men hanged. But now as he crouched against the wall, he was terrified and appalled at what hi eyes beheld. Dr. Pontius lay in a corner beside his bed, his head crushed like an eggshell!

The reporter suddenly heard another dull thump and a hiss of air from a dying man's lungs. Swiftly his mind searched for a possible meaning to this. Then it dawned upon him that the butler must have fall victim to the terror that was slinking like a mad gorilla through the house. He again heard the indistinct pad of feet. His blood throbbed at his throat and temples, sending cold, clammy chills over him. Where would the beast of the test tubes go next? To his or Allanna's room?

Douglass crouched just inside the death-room door. A great shadow, ghastly and spectral, fell across the sill. He felt an urge to scream and smothered it. The murder-beast slunk past, his long arms dangling strangely at his sides, his lips curled into the same ominous leer, his nude body glistening under the light that filtered into the hall.

The reporter was so utterly appalled that his wits seemed dull. It was fully a minute before be overcame his horror and stole a glance into the hall. The synthetic man crouched before the closed door of Allarma! He looked toward the reporter as if by instinct. Douglass dodged back out of sight and waited, expecting to see the beast tracking him down. After a few seconds he looked out again.

Jack Agar had vanished. Douglass' heart almost stopped. Before he could control himself, he had leaped out into the hall. Instantly there Caine a bloodcurdling scream from Allanna's bedroom. With terror striking at his mind, the reporter ran for her door. It was open wide and her room was filled with beastly muttering and stifled cries. Then he heard plaintive pleadings coming from the darkness. Pleadings from horrified feminine lips.

Young Mr. Morton Douglass could stand no more. Mumbling dire things he bounded into the room, pausing to switch on the lights and take stock of the situation. The synthetic man was bending over Allanna as she lay in fear on her bed, her arms outstretched to ward off his deadly, murderous fingers. Douglass saw at a glance that he had her by the throat now and in a twinkling would beat her head to a pulp. The beast paid not the slightest attention to the sudden flood of illumination, but seemed bent only on murder.

Douglass had a glimpse of pleading eyes peering at him through the beast's arms. For the first time in her life, Allanna was in mortal fear. The expression on her features caused the reporter to go stark mad. With the roar of a beast he flung himself forward, felt his nerveless fingers touch the clammy flesh of Jack Agar, and gain a hold.

The Secret Destroyed

IT seemed to him then that nobody could be closer to death, but in his insane fury it mattered not whether he came out victorious or had his head smashed in, so long as he gave Allanna a chance to escape. Gaining momentary control over his reeling, infuriated senses, he yelled loudly to the girl.

"Run Allanna!" he shouted, using precious breath that he knew would be needed to protect himself from Jack Agar. "Call the police!"

Allanna needed no urging. Like a Wood nymph she sprang from her bed and ran, Terrified, into the hall. Douglass heard her calling desperately but futilely to her uncle. Her feet sounded on the hall floor and then the reporter heard her scream again. He did not doubt but that she had discovered her uncle's gruesome form, stilled in death.

Jack Agar's lips became discolored with a green, ghastly loam giving him the appearance of a rabid animal. as he turned slowly to face his antagonist. From his throat came the startling snarl of a jungle brute making a kill. But his actions were sluggish because of his dull, undeveloped wits. His great arms writhed through the air like serpents and the reporter ducked under them.

Douglass stepped nimbly aside and delivered a clean, right-handed blow on his adversary's unwholesome chin. The synthetic man's eyes went strangely dull and listless, losing much of their savage, murderous lust. He faltered a trifle and ambled backward. The newspaper man followed like a trained pugilist and led again with a vicious left.

The delicate flesh of Jack Agar's' chin split in a horrible gash. A green liquid sprayed over the reporter, smelling like the damp, sour weeds of the sea. His eyes blazing furiously he lashed out with a potent savageness. Across his vision was a curtain of red and he cast caution aside to deliver another terrific right. Then Jack Agar's waving arm caught him in the grip of a boa. He sobered in the instant and was amazed at the supernatural strength of the creature. lack Agar seemed to have the power of steel vises in each arm and they closed around the small of his back with menace.

The newspaperman felt an agonizing pain through his middle. His blood seemed to turn to ice and his heart appeared to have suddenly stopped. Something told him he was going to explode. Then he looked into those terrible, fiery orbs. He tried to scream, but his voice was dead. Great balls of fire danced before him and he knew he was going into unconsciousness, for a fathomless black abyss yawned under them like open space. He felt himself falling, falling with a terrific wind racing past his ears.

Then as it seemed he was at last going to strike terra firma at the bottom of the pit, he heard a terrific explosion. Through his reeling head ran the thought that he had actually exploded and his astral body was floating over his mortal remains. Something hit his ghost and knocked it strangely aside. Then he thought that he was gloating over something.

And that something looked very much like the still form of Jack Agar with a round hole in the center of his brow from which poured a smelly green liquid. Other forms moved about like weaving ghosts; then he felt a cold, icy something on his forehead. Gradually objects began to assume definite shape and finally out of a jumbled nothing he recognized Allanna. From her deep-blue eyes ran glistening tears.

"Oh, Mr. Douglass!" he heard her sob tearfully. "He did not kill you! Oh...!" He saw her shudder violently and then a blue-uniformed man lifted her erect.

"Take it easy, young lady," advised the officer. "It won't do to go into hysterics. He's alright!"

Eager hands lifted the reporter to his feet. His head reeled and he lurched sideways. Hands caught him. Water was forced down his parched lips. Rapidly he emerged from the cloud behind which hovered death and oblivion.

"W-what happened?" he managed to ask as he stood, tottering. A bluecoat glanced to a heap on the floor and nodded.

"He had you in a bad way, young fellow!" the officer said with a grin. "In another second he'd have bashed your head like an eggshell! Murphy's slug got him right between the eyes."

Allanna shivered and hid her face against the police captain who supported her. She sobbed convulsively. Douglass had a sudden thought.

"Did he kill the butler, too?" he blurted, feeling the strength returning to his trembling legs. He searched the officers' eyes. The bluecoats nodded as one.

"And the old man in the other room," said one of them smoothly. "Bashed in.... "

"I know all about that," the reporter cut in quickly to save Allanna from hearing further. "The beast' will never kill another man, I hope!"

"Aye!" interjected the captain. "He's as dead as a door-nail!"

"I had a hunch something like this would happen," said Douglass shaking his head sadly. "Dr. Pontius violated all the unwritten laws of nature by creating synthetic human life. Man should not try to duplicate the work of the Master Creator. lam sorry for Dr. Pontius, but glad that he will carry his secrets to the grave."

Douglass instinctively glanced toward his room across the hall where his coat containing his papers reclined on a chair-back. He wondered if the papers had been touched. Without hesitation he went to the room, removed the notes from his inner pocket and strode to the open fireplace near the foot of the bed. His hands trembled and he muttered softly to himself.

"He told me he had no written formula," he mumbled, glancing at a paragraph in his notes that revealed the secret of synthetic life. "So here goes the works. The secret will remain a secret as far as I'm concerned!"

A match scraped along the fireplace stones. It was held to the sheaf of foolscap. A flame illuminated the drawn features of the reporter. He held the burning documents until the flame reached his shaking fingers; then dropped the twisted mass into the grate with a feeling that he was doing mankind a great favor.

Within a year the house of horror had been transformed into one of sunniness. The pickled bodies of Jack and Joe Agar had been sent to Tyburn and with them had gone everything scientific Dr. Pontius had possessed. Allanna had fallen into the wealth her uncle had left, but her husband, the young Mr. Morton Douglass, continues to be the right hand man of Ainesbury of the Globe.

THE END.

---

FOR THE JANUARY ISSUE

We offer

"The Satellite of Doom"

by
D. D. SHARP

Mr. Sharp is well known as the author of the "Eternal Man" and the "Eternal Man Revives" and now he gives us this new and very unusual story. It has been proved by experts on space travel that it is possible for a satellite to be built for the earth. Such a ship sent up to 500 miles and given a speed of about five miles per second would continue to travel around the earth indefinitely without further power. Such an idea has thousands of possibilities and Mr. Sharp uses a few of the best to construct a story of mystery, intrigue and thrilling adventure.

"The Gland Men of the Island" by Malcolm Alford

The author who was recently a professor of medicine at the University of Adelaide, Australia, is a scientist of the first rank, but you will agree he is as good a. writer of fast moving fiction as he is a scientist. We know that it is possible by treating our glands to produce men or are tall or short, fat or thin, intelligent or moronic. If such a power came into the hands of any man he could use it to upset our entire earth. A world wide catastrophe might follow if he should use this knowledge to evil uses. You must not miss this story.

"Death From the Seas" by Joseph Kennelly

What takes place far below the surface of the ocean is still quite a mystery to us because of the terrific pressure at even moderate depths. We have never been able to penetrate more than a few hundred feet, hut it is probably true that strange creatures exist in the submarine depths. What they would be like we have no means of telling, but if we were to penetrate the ocean's depths as our characters do in this story, we might find some of the most amazing things that the imagination oi' man has conceived.

"The Outpost on the Moon" by Joslyn Maxwell

The second installment of this masterly interplanetary story will reveal the secret of many of the puzzling events of the first installment. We Will find the meaning of the mysterious Outpost established on the desolate Moon, unknown to the people of earth: Is it a, menace from the limits of the solar system that the Outpost is trying to contend with? Even the Outpost does not know the answer; but flying with our characters between Moon and Earth we will get vivid glimpses into some astonishing events.