ed in the enthusiasm
with which he was imbued. "Tom--Tom," he pleaded in his excitement, "use
me as a subject. Renew my youth. My life has been a sad one and a lonely
one, but I would that I might live it over. I should make of it a far
different one--something worth while. See, I am ready."

He sat on the edge of the gleaming table and made as if to lie down on
its gleaming surface. But his young host only stared at him in open
amusement.

"What? You?" he sneered, unfeelingly. "Why, you old fossil! I told you I
would choose my subjects carefully. They are to be people of standing
and wealth, who can contribute to the fame and fortune of one Thomas
Forsythe."

"But Tom, I have money," Old Crompton begged. But when he saw the hard
mirth in the younger man's eyes, his old animosity flamed anew and he
sprang from his position and shook a skinny forefinger in Tom's face.

"Don't do that to me, you old fool!" shouted Tom, "and get out of here.
Think I'd waste current on an old cadger like you? I guess not! Now get
out. Get out, I say!"

Then the old anchorite saw red. Something seemed to snap in his soured
old brain. He found himself kicking and biting and punching at his host,
who backed away from the furious onslaught in surprise. Then Tom tripped
over a wire and fell to the floor with a force that rattled the windows,
his ferocious little adversary on top. The younger man lay still where
he had fallen, a trickle of blood showing at his temple.

"My God! I've killed him!" gasped the old man.

With trembling fingers he opened Tom's shirt and listened for his
heartbeats. Panic-stricken, he rubbed the young man's wrists, slapped
his cheeks, and ran for water to dash in his face. But all efforts to
revive him proved futile, and then, in awful fear, Old Crompton dashed
into the night, the dog Spot snapping at his heels as he ran.

* * * * *

Hours later the stooped figure of a shabby old man might have been seen
stealthily re-entering the lonely workshop where the lights still burned
brightly. Tom Forsythe lay rigid in the position in which Old Crompton
had left him, and the dog growled menacingly.

Averting his gaze and circling wide of the body, Old Crompton made for
the table of the marvelous rays. In minute detail he recalled every move
made by Tom in starting and adjusting the apparatus to produce the
incredible results he had witnessed. Not a moment was to be wasted now.
Already