is actions. Sit down, Mr. Mitchell, and
have a cigar."

* * * * *

Mitchell accepted the cigar which the doctor proferred and took a chair.
He lighted the weed and after another glance of hostility toward the
detective he pointedly ignored him and addressed his remarks to Dr.
Bird.

"I have no objection to telling you why I haven't spoken earlier,
Doctor," he said. "When the _Arethusa_ sank, I must have hit my head on
something, for the next thing I knew, I was in the Marine Hospital in
New York. I had been picked up unconscious by a fishing boat and brought
in, and I lay there a week before I knew anything. When I knew what I
was doing I heard about the loss of my ship and was told that there were
no survivors, and I didn't know what to do. The story I had to tell was
so weird and improbable that I hesitated to speak to anyone about it. I
was not sure at first that it was not a trick of a disordered brain, but
since my head has cleared I am convinced of the truth of it ... and yet
I know that it _can't_ be so. I have read about you and some of the
things you have done, and so as soon as I was able to travel I came
here to tell you about it. You will be better able to judge than I,
whether what I tell you really happened or was only a vision."

Dr. Bird leaned back in his chair and put the tips of his fingers
together. Long, tapering fingers they were, sensitive and well shaped,
though sadly marred by acid stains. It was in his hands alone that Dr.
Bird showed the genius in his make-up, the artistry which inspired him
to produce those miracles of experimentation which had made his name a
household word in the realm of science. Aside from those hands he more
resembled a pugilist than a scientist. A heavy shock of unruly black
hair surmounted a face with beetling black brows and a prognathous jaw.
His enormous head, with a breadth and height of forehead which were
amazing, rose from a pillar-like neck which sprang from a pair of
massive shoulders and the arching chest of the trained athlete. Dr. Bird
stood six feet two inches in his socks, and weighed over two hundred
stripped. As he leaned back a curious glitter, which Carnes had learned
to associate with keen interest, showed for an instant in his eyes.

"I will be glad to hear your story, Mr. Mitchell," he said softly. "Tell
it in your own way and try not to omit any detail, no matter how trivial
it may be."

* *