ardened and he took a menacing step toward me. Then suddenly
he stopped, a queer tragic expression coming over his face. He put his
hand to his eyes as if to blot out some horrible memory.

"I know, I know!" he cried hysterically. "Six heads--six human heads!
Do you think I planned six heads?"

A shudder went through him and he buried his face in both hands and
sobbed like a child.

My personal fear gradually subsided as I watched this remorseful
quiescence which had come upon him. I realized that he had passed the
emotional climax of his crime, and that he was now suffering that
terrible reaction which must haunt and terrify all criminals. I took
this advantage to gain control of him, for there was no way of
determining when his madness would flare again.

"There is only one course open for me," I told him soberly. "I must
turn you over to the police. Things like this must be stopped."

He pulled his hands away from his face and stared at me, his eyes
fired with dread. "No, no!" he screamed. "Don't give me away. Please,
in the name of God, don't give me away! I am sick, I tell you! I am
not responsible!"

A feeling of helpless pity went through me as he sank to his knees in
hysterical imploration, but I steeled myself against him. The man was
mad and dangerous. He must be stamped out without mercy.

"There are asylums----" I began.

"You cannot!" he cried. "You know what they do in asylums. _I_ know!
Please help me. I am not responsible. It is the book--_the book_."

"What book?"

"Drukker--that diary! Can't you see what it has done to me? It's eaten
into my brain until I am mad. It's driven me like a slave until I have
no other bidding. It taught me how to do these things. It _makes_ me
do them."

I pulled him to his feet and shook him unmercifully. He was crying and
retching, a pitiable and horrible sight to look upon.

"You are talking irrationally," I cried. "I am your friend and I want
to help you, but my first duty is the public welfare. There are six
human heads buried in your cellar. There must be no more."

"No more?" he laughed shrilly and threw up both his hands to indicate
the count of ten. "No more, you say? There will be ten more before it
stops. Ten more! That's what the book says!"

"You want ten?" I demanded incredulously, struck numb by his
callousness. "You want ten more to add to those six? Carse, Carse!
They are not cabbages you are counting; they are human heads. Do you
think I a