t in its appearance. Handlon stood close behind Perry as he silently
swung the camera into a more favorable position for action. The face at
the window was purple with wrath.

"You damned pests! Leave my grounds at once or I shall call my hound and
set him upon you. And when--"

* * * * *

Crack! Flash! Click! Perry had made a sudden sidewise movement as
Handlon went into action.

"Much obliged, Professor," said Perry politely. "Your pose with that old
cannon is going to be very effective from the front page. The write-up
will doubtless be interesting too. Probably the story won't be quite so
accurate as it would be had you told it to us yourself; but we shall get
as many of the details from the natives hereabouts as we can. Good-day
to you, sir!"

Motioning to the other he turned on his heel and started down the
driveway. It was an old trick, and for a long moment of suspense he
almost feared that it would fail. Another moment--

"Wait!" The quavering voice of the irascible old villain had lost some
of its malice. "Come back here a minute."

With simulated reluctance the two slowly retraced their steps. "Is there
something else, sir?"

"Perhaps...." The old man hesitated, as if pondering upon his words.
"Perhaps if you care to step in I can be of assistance to you after all.
It occurs to me that possibly I have been too abrupt with you."

"I am very glad that you have decided to cooperate with us, Professor
Kell," answered the reporter heartily, as they ascended the steps. The
old man's head disappeared from the window and shortly the sound of
footsteps inside told of his approach. Finally the oaken door swung
open, and they were silently ushered into the musty smelling hallway.
Though outwardly accepting the Professor's suddenly pacific attitude,
Perry made up his mind to be on his guard.

* * * * *

As they entered what had evidently been the parlor in bygone days, an
oppressive, heavy odor smote their nostrils, telling of age-old carpets
and of draperies allowed to decay unnoticed. On the walls hung several
antique prints, a poorly executed crayon portrait of a person doubtless
an ancestor of the present Kell, and one or two paintings done in oil,
now badly cracked and stained. Everything gave the impression of an era
long since departed, and the two men felt vaguely out of place. Their
host led them to a pair of dilapidated chairs, which the