with
excitement.

"But there's a possibility you're right. Do you know what the Mind
Master's first manifesto said? It was published by a tabloid newspaper
as a sort of gag--a strange crank letter. Here it is."

Tyler tossed Bentley a newspaper clipping a week old. Bentley read
quickly:

"The white race is deteriorating physically at a dangerous
rate. In fifty years, if nothing is done to prevent it,
the world will be filled with men whose bodies are so soft
as to be almost worthless. But I shall take steps to
prevent that, as soon as I am ready. I need a week. Then I
shall begin my crusade to make the white race a race of
supermen, whom I alone shall rule. They shall keep the
brains they have, which shall be transferred to bodies
which I shall furnish.

(Signed) The Mind Master."

- - -

Tyler squinted at Bentley again.

"You see? Brains are all right, he says, but the white race needs new
bodies. If he isn't suggesting brain substitution, what is he
suggesting? Though I confess I never thought of your story until your
name was sent in to me a while ago. For the world thinks of Barter as
having been killed by the great apes."

"Yes, I told newspaper reporters that. I thought it was true. But this
Mind Master must be Barter. There couldn't be two persons in the world
with mental quirks so much alike."

"Tell me what Barter looks like. Oh, there are plenty of pictures
extant of the famous Professor Caleb Barter who disappeared from the
world some years ago, but he'll know that, of course, and he won't
look like the pictures.

"Alteration of his own features should be easy for a man who juggles
brains."

"He may have changed his features since I saw him, too," said Bentley.
"But I'm sure I'd know him."

Tyler's telephone rang stridently.

He took down the receiver. His mouth fell slackly open as his eyes
lifted to Bentley's face. But he recovered himself and slapped his
hand over the transmitter.

"Anybody know you came here?" asked Tyler.

Bentley shook his head.

"Well," went on Tyler, "I don't know how it happens, but this
telephone message is for you!"

Bentley's heart seemed to jump into his throat. One of those hunches
which sometimes were so valuable to him had struck him, as though it
were a blow between the eyes. His lips tightened. His face was pale,
but there was a grim light in his eyes.

He hesitated for a second, th