on as
opportunity offered, after which they joined their Chief. Riley went
out to resume his vigil in Bland's car, while his fellow sleuth prepared
to light the way downstairs. Under his guidance the sick man was carried
below without mishap.

Downstairs the now conscious form of the venerable Professor was laid
out on the ancient sofa until his senses could clear a bit. Presently
the eyelids fluttered open and a feeble voice asked, "Where the deuce am
I, and how did all you guys get here?"

* * * * *

A joyous gasp went up. That voice! Although uttered in somewhat the same
vocal quality as Kell's the intonation and accents had strangely
altered. O'Hara leaned eagerly over the figure on the couch. The
question he asked was startling in its incongruity:

"How are you feeling, _Skip_!"

"Rotten," was the reply from the lips of Kell. "What hit me such a crack
on the dome? I feel as if I had been dragged through a knot-hole. Lemme
up."

"Stay still," commanded O'Hara, kindly but firmly. "You aren't fit to
move yet. You are going on a long ride and will need your strength.
Don't talk, either."

A half-hour later they left the house. In the front yard the editor
called a hasty conclave which included the entire party. Hard Boiled
Bland has never been known to talk so much at a stretch, before or
since.

"Before we start back," he began, "we had better come to an understanding.
In the first place--Skip, come over here a minute."

Norma Manion uttered an involuntary cry of fear as the aged form of Kell
passed by her. Skip's instant response to his name had, of course, been
perfectly natural to him. But it had an odd effect on the others.

"Miss Manion, and gentlemen," Bland went on, with a bow of mock
ceremony, "I want you to meet Mister--er, Mister--oh hell, call him
Saunders. This is Mr. Kenneth Saunders, ladies and gentlemen. When he
gets a shave and has his new face patched up I believe you will like his
appearance much more than you do now.

"Seriously though, folks, I hope that with a little fixing up the
gentleman will hardly resemble Professor Anton Kell. Kell is dead.
Obviously, however, this gentleman can hardly continue his existence as
Skip Handlon. Hence--well, hence Mr. Saunders. And don't forget the
name.

"Now another little matter. This house has proven a curse to humanity.
What has transpired here need never be known. Would it not be the wiser
to eliminate all tr