finished," he answered, "and they will do it
as gradually as possible seeking to ascertain exactly the point at which
human life ceases to persist. My part will be to retain my faculties to
the very end, in order to exercise resistance to the last. So a great
deal depends on my courage. It is possible that this experiment may
carry science forward to a point where it commences a new era, for if we
can learn to survive the higher potencies, a whole new realm will lie
before us awaiting exploration."

"And if you refuse?"

"A dog's death!"

"Have they no use for mercy?"

"Surely. But mercy is not treason. It would be treason to the cause to
let me live. I failed. I let the secret out. I _must_ die. That is the
law. If they let me live, the next one who failed would quote the
precedent, and within a century or so a new law of compromise would have
crept in. Our secrets would be all out, and the world would use our
knowledge to destroy itself. No. They show their mercy by making use of
me, instead of merely throwing my dead carcass to the alligators."

"If you will tell me your real name I will tell them at Johns Hopkins
about your death, and perhaps they will inscribe your record on some
roll of martyrs," I suggested.

I think that idea tempted him, for his eyes brightened and grew
strangely softer for a moment. He was about to speak, but at that moment
the door opened again, and things began to occur that drove all thought
of Johns Hopkins from our minds.

About a dozen women entered this time. They did not trouble to tie the
Mahatma, but they bound me as the Philistines did Samson, and then threw
a silken bag over my head by way of blindfold. The bag would have been
perfectly effective if I had not caught it in my teeth as they drew it
over my shoulders. It did not take long to bite a hole in it, nor much
longer to move my head about until I had the hole in front of my right
eye, after which I was able to see fairly well where they were leading
me.

Women of most lands are less generous than men to any one in their
power. Men would have been satisfied to let me follow them along or
march in front of them, provided I went fast enough to suit them, but
those vixens hardly treated me as human. Perhaps they thought that
unless they beat, shoved, prodded and kicked me all the way along those
corridors and up the gilded stairs I might forget who held the upper
hand for the moment; but I think not. I think it was sim