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“Phelps had travelled extensively. In Siberia he must undoubtedly have heard of the Buriats, a tribe of natives who hibernate, almost like the animals, during the winters, succumbing to a long sleep known as the ‘leshka.’ He must have heard of the experiments of Professor Bakhmetieff, who studied the Buriats and found that they subsisted on foods rich in glycogen, a substance in the liver which science has discovered makes possible life during suspended animation. He must have heard of ‘anabiose,’ as the famous Russian calls it, by which consciousness can be totally removed and respiration and digestion cease almost completely.”

“But–the body–is gone!” some one interrupted. I turned. It was Dana Phelps, now leaning forward in wide-eyed excitement.

“Yes,” exclaimed Craig. “Time was passing rapidly. The insurance had not been paid. He had expected to be revived and to disappear with Anginette Phelps long before this. Should the confederates of Phelps wait? They did not dare. To wait longer might be to sacrifice him, if indeed they had not taken a long chance already. Besides, you yourself had your suspicions and had written the insurance company hinting at murder.”

Dana nodded, involuntarily confessing.

“You were watching them, as well as the insurance investigator, Mr. Andrews. It was an awful dilemma. What was to be done? He must be resuscitated at any risk.

“Ah–an idea! Rifle the grave–that was the way to solve it. That would still leave it possible to collect the insurance, too. The blackmail letter about the five thousand dollars was only a blind, to lay on the mythical Black Hand the blame for the desecration. Brought into light, humidity, and warmth, the body would recover consciousness and the life-functions resume their normal state after the anabiotic coma into which Phelps had drugged himself.

“But the very first night the supposed ghouls were discovered. Dana Phelps, already suspicious regarding the death of his brother, wondering at the lack of sentiment which Mrs. Phelps showed, since she felt that her husband was not really dead–Dana was there. His suspicions were confirmed, he thought. Montague had been, in reality, murdered, and his murderers were now making away with the evidence. He fought with the ghouls, yet apparently, in the darkness, he did not discover their identity. The struggle was bitter, but they were two to one. Dana was bitten by one of them. Here are the marks of teeth–teeth–of a woman.”

Anginette Phelps was sobbing convulsively. She had risen and was facing Doctor Forden with outstretched hands.

“Tell them!” she cried wildly.

Forden seemed to have maintained his composure only by a superhuman effort.

“The–body is–at my office,” he said, as we faced him with deathlike stillness. “Phelps had told us to get him within ten days. We did get him, finally. Gentlemen, you, who were seeking murderers, are, in effect, murderers. You kept us away two days too long. It was too late. We could not revive him. Phelps is really dead!”

“The deuce!” exclaimed Andrews, “the policy is incontestible!”

As he turned to us in disgust, his eyes fell on Anginette Phelps, sobered down by the terrible tragedy and nearly a physical wreck from real grief.

“Still,” he added hastily, “we’ll pay without a protest.”

She did not even hear him. It seemed that the butterfly in her was crushed, as Dr. Forden and Miss Tracy gently led her away.

They had all left, and the laboratory was again in its normal state of silence, except for the occasional step of Kennedy as he stowed away the apparatus he had used.

“I must say that I was one of the most surprised in the room at the outcome of that case,” I confessed at length. “I fully expected an arrest.”

He said nothing, but went on methodically restoring his apparatus to its proper place.

“What a peculiar life you lead, Craig,” I pursued reflectively. “One day it is a case that ends with such a bright spot in our lives as the recollection of the Shirleys; the next goes to the other extreme of gruesomeness and one can hardly think about it without a shudder. And then, through it all, you go with the high speed power of a racing motor.”