seemed like the face of an old man. Yet the eyes were open, eyes dull
and heavy as though with pain. So far no word had been spoken, but at
that moment Mr. Fentolin broke the silence.

"My dear guest," he said, "I bring you our most sincere apologies.
It has gone very much against the grain, I can assure you, to have
neglected you for so long a time. It is entirely the fault of the very
troublesome young man who occupies the other portion of this building.
In the daytime his presence makes it exceedingly difficult for us to
offer you those little attentions which you might naturally expect."

The man upon the bed neither moved nor changed his position in any way.
Nor did he speak. All power of initiative seemed to have deserted him.
He lay quite still, his eyes fixed upon Mr. Fentolin.

"There comes a time," the latter continued, "when every one of us is
confronted with what might be described as the crisis of our lives.
Yours has come, my guest, at precisely this moment. It is, if my watch
tells me the truth, five and twenty minutes to four. It is the last
day of April. The year you know. You have exactly one minute to decide
whether you will live a short time longer, or whether you will on this
last day of April, and before--say, a quarter to four, make that little
journey the nature of which you and I have discussed more than once."

Still the man upon the bed made no movement nor any reply. Mr. Fentolin
sighed and beckoned to Doctor Sarson.

"I am afraid," he whispered, "that that wonderful drug of yours, Doctor,
has been even a little too far-reaching in its results. It has kept our
friend so quiet that he has lost even the power of speech, perhaps even
the desire to speak. A little restorative, I think--just a few drops."

Doctor Sarson nodded silently. He drew from his pocket a little phial
and poured into a wine-glass which stood on a table by the side of the
bed, half a dozen drops of some ruby-coloured liquid, to which he added
a tablespoonful of water. Then he leaned once more over the bed and
poured the contents of the glass between the lips of the semi-conscious
man.

"Give him two minutes," he said calmly. "He will be able to speak then."

Mr. Fentolin nodded and leaned back in his chair. He glanced around the
room a little critically. There was a thick carpet upon the floor, a
sofa piled with cushions in one corner, and several other articles of
furniture. The walls, however, were uncovered and wer