h, there is a very
easy way to keep your tongue silent. You have heard of hypnotism, Dale?
You have heard also of radio? Have you ever thought of combining the
two?"

* * * * *

He faced me directly. I made no effort to reply.

"Radio," he said quietly, "is broadcast by means of sound waves. That
much you know. But hypnotism too, can be transmitted through distance,
if an instrument delicate enough to transmit _thought waves_ can be
invented. For twenty years I have worked on that instrument, and for
twenty years I have studied hypnotism. You understand, of course, that
this instrument is worthless unless it is operated by a master mind.
Thought waves are useless; they will not control the actions of even a
cat. But hypnotic waves or concentrated thought waves--will control the
world."

There was no denying him. He faced me with the savage triumph of a wild
beast. He was glorying in his power, and in my amazement.

"I wanted Franklin White to die!" he cried. "It was I who murdered him.
Why? Because he was about to take the girl I desired. Is that not reason
enough for murder? And so I killed him. It was not Margot Vernee who
strangled her lover: it was a complete stranger, a London sportsman, who
had no reason for committing the murder, _except that I wished him to_!

"He died on the night of December seventh, murdered by Sir John Harmon,
the sportsman. Why? Because, of all London, Sir John would be the last
man to be suspected. I have a keen appreciation for the irony of fate!
White would have died the night before, Dale, except that I lacked the
courage to kill him. His murderer was standing, under my power, outside
his very house--and then I suddenly thought it best that I should have
an alibi. Your Scotland Yard is clever, and it was best that I have
protection. And so, on the following night, I sent Sir John to the house
once again. This time, while I sat here and controlled the actions of my
puppet, a group of men sat here with me. They believed that I was
experimenting with a new type of radio receiver!"

* * * * *

Michael Strange laughed, laughed harshly, in utter triumph, as a cat
laughs at the antics of his mouse victims.

"When that murder was done," he said, "I sent Margot to the scene, so
that she might see her lover strangled, dead. I repeat, Dale, that I
enjoy the irony of fate, especially when I can control it. And as for
you--I br