success of his work alone had escaped his

consideration, so that the first wave of triumphant

exultation with which he had viewed the finished result

of this last experiment had been succeeded by

overwhelming consternation as he saw the thing which he

had created gasp once or twice with the feeble spark of

life with which he had endowed it, and expire--leaving

upon his hands the corpse of what was, to all intent

and purpose, a human being, albeit a most grotesque and

misshapen thing.

Until nearly noon Professor Maxon was occupied in

removing the remaining stains and evidences of his

gruesome work, but when he at last turned the key in

the door of his workshop it was to leave behind no single

trace of the successful result of his years of labor.

The following afternoon found him and Virginia crossing

the station platform to board the express for New York.

So quietly had their plans been made that not a friend

was at the train to bid them farewell--the scientist

felt that he could not bear the strain of attempting

explanations at this time.

But there were those there who recognized them, and one

especially who noted the lithe, trim figure and

beautiful face of Virginia Maxon though he did not know

even the name of their possessor. It was a tall well

built young man who nudged one of his younger companions

as the girl crossed the platform to enter her Pullman.

"I say, Dexter," he exclaimed, "who is that beauty?"

The one addressed turned in the direction indicated by

his friend.

"By jove!" he exclaimed. "Why it's Virginia Maxon and

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