There were some surprised remarks from the other end of the wire, but
Voight was unable to catch them. He was in a cold perspiration at the
thought of meeting his victim's father.

"Why, yes, Alton," continued Culkin, "I think there is something in this
story, although I cannot believe it all. But I wish you would accompany
us and visit the laboratory. Will you?"

"Lord, man, not that!" interrupted the judge's visitor. "I can hardly
bear to visit the scene of my crime--and in the company of Alton
Forsythe. Please, not that!"

"Now you just let me take care of this, young man," replied the judge,
testily. Then, once more speaking into the mouthpiece of the telephone,
"All right, Alton. We'll pick you up at your office in five minutes."

He replaced the receiver on its hook and turned again to his visitor.
"Please be so kind as to do exactly as I request," he said. "I want to
help you, but there is more to this thing than you know and I want you
to follow unquestioningly where I lead and ask no questions at all for
the present. Things may turn out differently than you expect."

"All right, Judge." The visitor resigned himself to whatever might
transpire under the guidance of the man he had called upon to turn him
over to the officers of the law.

* * * * *

Seated in the judge's ancient motor car, they stopped at the office of
Alton Forsythe a few minutes later and were joined by that red-faced and
pompous old man. Few words were spoken during the short run to the
well-remembered location of Tom's laboratory, and the man who was known
as George Voight caught at his own throat with nervous fingers when they
passed the tumbledown remains of the hut in which Old Crompton had spent
so many years. With a screeching of well-worn brakes the car stopped
before the laboratory, which was now almost hidden behind a mass of
shrubs and flowers.

"Easy now, young man," cautioned the judge, noting the look of fear
which had clouded his new client's features. The three men advanced to
the door through which Old Crompton had fled on that night of horror,
twelve years before. The elder Forsythe spoke not a word as he turned
the knob and stepped within. Voight shrank from entering, but soon
mastered his feelings and followed the other two. The sight that met his
eyes caused him to cry aloud in awe.

At the dissecting table, which seemed to be exactly as he had seen it
last but with replicas of th