receptacle in which it was kept, towards the three persons who looked at it. It seemed to wonder what they did. Susie started back with fright, as it raised itself on its four legs and tried to reach up to them. Susie turned away and hid her face. She could not look at those ghastly counterfeits of humanity. She was terrified and ashamed. “Do you understand what this means?” said Dr Porhoët to Arthur, in an awed voice. “It means that he has discovered the secret of life.” “Was it for these vile monstrosities that Margaret was sacrificed in all her loveliness?” The two men looked at one another with sad, wondering eyes. “Don’t you remember that he talked of the manufacture of human beings? It’s these misshapen things that he’s succeeding in producing,” said the doctor. “There is one more that we haven’t seen,” said Arthur. He pointed to the covering which still hid the largest of the vases. He had a feeling that it contained the most fearful of all these monsters; and it was not without an effort that he drew the cloth away. But no sooner had he done this than something sprang up, so that instinctively he started back, and it began to gibber in piercing tones. These were the unearthly sounds that they had heard. It was not a voice, it was a kind of raucous crying, hoarse yet shrill, uneven like the barking of a dog, and appalling. The sounds came forth in rapid succession, angrily, as though the being that uttered them sought to express itself in furious words. It was mad with passion and beat against the glass walls of its prison with clenched fists. For the hands were human hands, and the body, though much larger, was of the shape of a new-born child. The creature must have stood about four feet high. The head was horribly misshapen. The skull was enormous, smooth and distended like that of a hydrocephalic, and the forehead protruded over the face hideously. The features were almost unformed, preternaturally small under the great, overhanging brow; and they had an expression of fiendish malignity. The tiny, misshapen countenance writhed with convulsive fury, and from the mouth poured out a foaming spume. It raised its voice higher and higher, shrieking senseless gibberish in its rage. Then it began to hurl its whole body madly against the glass walls and to beat its head. It appeared to have a sudden incomprehensible hatred for the three strangers. It was trying to fly at them. The toothless gums moved spasmodically, and it threw its face into horrible grimaces. That nameless, loathsome abortion was the nearest that Oliver Haddo had come to the human form. “Come away,” said Arthur. “We must not look at this.” He quickly flung the covering over the jar. “Yes, for God’s sake let us go,” said Susie. “We haven’t done yet,” answered Arthur. “We haven’t found the author of all this.”