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might have put to shame two Bengal tigers. Twelve is tractable and intelligent.

With his assistance and my bull whip I succeeded in separating them before

either was killed. Your greatest error was in striving at first for such physical

perfection. You have overdone it, with the result that the court of mystery is

peopled by a dozen brutes of awful muscularity, and scarcely enough brain

among the dozen to equip three properly."

They are as they are," replied the professor. "I shall do for them what I can--

when I am gone they must look to themselves. I can see no way out of it."

"What you have given you may take away," said von Horn, in a low tone.

Professor Maxon shuddered. Those three horrid days in the workshop at Ithaca

flooded his memory with all the gruesome details he had tried for so many

months to forget. The haunting ghosts of the mental anguish that had left him

an altered man--so altered that there were times when he had feared for his

sanity!

"No, no!" he almost shouted. "It would be murder. They are--"

"They are THINGS," interrupted von Horn. "They are not human--they are not

even beast. They are terrible, soulless creatures. You have no right to permit

them to live longer than to substantiate your theory. None but us knows of their

existence--no other need know of their passing. It must be done. They are a

constant and growing menace to us all, but most of all to your daughter."

A cunning look came into the professor's eyes.

"I understand," he said. "The precedent once established, all must perish by its

edict--even those which may not be grotesque or bestial--even this perfect one,"

and he touched again the vat, "and thus you would rid yourself of rival suitors.

But no!" he went on in a high, trembling voice. "I shall not be led to thus

compromise myself, and be thwarted in my cherished plan. Be this one what he

may he shall wed my daughter!"

The man had raised himself upon his toes as he reached his climax--his clenched

hand was high above his head--his voice fairly thundered out the final sentence,

and with the last word he brought his fist down upon the vat before him. In his

eyes blazed the light of unchained madness.

Von Horn was a brave man, but he shuddered at the maniacal ferocity of the

older man, and shrank back. The futility of argument was apparent, and he

turned and left the workshop.

The Monster Men