d been equally stubborn in his insistence
that she marry him instead and settle down on the middle-Western fruit
farm.

With a sudden twist, the road turned in at the entrance of a sadly
neglected estate. The grounds of the place were overrun with rank
growths and the driveway was covered with weeds. The tumble-down
gables of a descrepit frame house peeped out through the trees. It was
a rambling old building that once had been a mansion--the "big house"
of the natives. A musty air of decay was upon it, and crazily askew
window shutters proclaimed deep-shrouded mystery within.

Bert drew up at the rickety porch and stopped the flivver with its
usual shuddering jerk.

* * * * *

As if his coming had been watched for through the stained glass of its
windows, the door was flung violently open. A white-clad figure darted
across the porch, but not before Bert had untangled the lean six feet
of him from under the flivver's wheel and bounded up the steps.

"Joan!"

"Bert! I--I'm sorry."

"Me too." Swallowing hard, Bert Redmond held her close.

"But I won't go back to Indiana!" The girl raised her chin and the old
defiance was in her tearful gaze.

Bert stared. Joan was white and wan, a mere shadow of her old self.
And she was trembling, hysterical.

"That's all right," he whispered. "But tell me now, what is it? What's
wrong?"

With sudden vigor she was drawing him into the house. "It's Tom," she
quavered. "I can't do a thing with him; can't get him to leave here.
And something terrible is about to happen, I know. I thought perhaps
you could help, even if--"

"Tom Parker here?" Bert was surprised that the fastidious older
brother should leave his comfortable city quarters and lose himself in
this God-forsaken place. "Sure, I'll help, dear--if I can."

"You can; oh, I'm sure you can," the girl went on tremulously. A spot
of color flared in either cheek. "It's his experiments. He came over
from New York about a year ago and rented this old house. The city
laboratory wasn't secluded enough. And I've helped him until now in
everything. But I'm frightened; he's playing with dangerous forces. He
doesn't understand--won't understand. But I saw...."

And then Joan Parker slumped into a high-backed chair that stood in
the ancient paneled hall. Soft waves of her chestnut hair framed the
pinched, terrified face, and wide eyes looked up at Bert, with the
same horror he had seen in those of