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Then there were the experiments of John Butler Burke of Cambridge, who claimed that he had developed “radiobes” in tubes of sterilised bouillon by means of radium emanations. Daniel Berthelot in France last year announced that he had used the ultra-violet rays to duplicate nature’s own process of chlorophyll assimilation. He has broken up carbon dioxide and water-vapour in the air in precisely the same way that the green cells of plants do it.

Leduc at Nantes has made crystals grow from an artificial egg composed of certain chemicals. These crystals show all the apparent vital phenomena without being actually alive. His work is interesting, for it shows the physical forces that probably control minute life cells, once they are created.

“What do you make of it?” asked Kennedy, noting the puzzled look on my face as I finished reading.

“Well, recent research in the problem of the origin of life may be very interesting,” I replied. “There are a good many chemicals mentioned here – I wonder if any of them is poisonous? But I am of the opinion that there is something more to this manuscript than a mere scientific paper.”

“Exactly, Walter,” said Kennedy in half raillery. “What I wanted to know was how you would suggest getting at that something.”

Study as I might, I could make nothing out of it. Meanwhile Craig was busily figuring with a piece of paper and a pencil.

“I give it up, Craig,” I said at last. “It is late. Perhaps we had better both turn in, and we may have some ideas on it in the morning.”

For answer he merely shook his head and continued to scribble and figure on the paper. With a reluctant good-night I shut my door, determined to be up early in the morning and go for the tubes that Kharkoff was to prepare.

But in the morning Kennedy was gone. I dressed hastily, and was just about to go out when he hurried in, showing plainly the effects of having spent a sleepless night. He flung an early edition of a newspaper on the table.

“Too late,” he exclaimed. “I tried to reach Kharkoff, but it was too late.”

“Another East Side Bomb Outrage,” I read. “While returning at a late hour last night from a patient, Dr. Nicholas Kharkoff, of – East Broadway, was severely injured by a bomb which had been placed in his hallway earlier in the evening. Dr. Kharkoff, who is a well-known physician on the East Side, states that he has been constantly shadowed by some one unknown for the past week or two. He attributes his escape with his life to the fact that since he was shadowed he has observed extreme caution. Yesterday his cook was poisoned and is now dangerously ill. Dr. Kharkoff stands high in the Russian community, and it is thought by the police that the bomb was placed by a Russian political agent, as Kharkoff has been active in the ranks of the revolutionists.”

“But what made you anticipate it?” I asked of Kennedy, considerably mystified.

“The manuscript,” he replied.

“The manuscript? How? Where is it?”

“After I found that it was too late to save Kharkoff and that he was well cared for at the hospital, I hurried to Saratovsky’s. Kharkoff had fortunately left the tubes there, and I got them. Here they are. As for the manuscript in the letter, I was going to ask you to slip upstairs by some strategy and return it where I found it, when you went for the tubes this morning. Kazanovitch was out, and I have returned it myself, so you need not go, now.”

“He’s coming to see you to-day, isn’t he?”

“I hope so. I left a note asking him to bring Miss Nevsky, if possible, too. Come, let us breakfast and go over to the laboratory. They may arrive at any moment. Besides, I’m interested to see what the tubes disclose.”