* * * * * Doctor Kyle came down at last from his attic room. He was a big man. Although his body and his limbs remained massively powerful, his head had become curiously fleshless. His yellow cheeks were hollow, his dark flaming eyes were very deeply sunken. His head had become almost completely bald, so that it gave the disconcerting impression of a yellowed skull. We met at the foot of the stairs. His hand was very cold, as if he had been working too long without a fire in his attic study. No smile broke the solemn preoccupation of his cadaverous face. "You are welcome to your old home, Clay," said his deep, hollow voice. "I'm very glad to see you, but"--his shrunken face changed curiously--"I had hoped that you would heed the warning of my letter, and never come for Valyne." "I have come for her," I told him bluntly. "And I'm going to take her away, in spite of anything you tell me." His gaunt head shook. "Clay," he said, "you were always queer and reckless. But I know that you aren't reckless, madly selfish, enough to drag Valyne away to a living hell! Not after you have heard; for there must be one drop of human blood left in your veins!" [Illustration: "I know that you aren't madly selfish enough to drag Valyne to a living hell."] "Of course I wouldn't hurt Valyne," I told him. "Go ahead and tell me; I've had enough vague hints." But Josepha Hand was setting supper on the table, and Valyne came toward us at the foot of the stair. "Doctor," she said, smiling, "you've worked too late again! You know you shouldn't----" Her light voice was swept away by his hissing whisper: "Later, Clay. But it is a crime that God forbids!" Valyne caught his arm, and mine, and drew us toward the table. Sitting beside Valyne, so that sometimes my arm touched the firm warmth of hers, I wondered vainly what he could have to say. What demoniac purpose sought to bar me from her? What eldritch madness lurked in this ancient house? As we ate, the man Eben Hand appeared suddenly in a doorway. He looked disturbed, his white hands fluttered agitatedly at his wife. And she called in a tone of startled dread: "Doctor! You must go, Doctor! He can't get it quiet!" Doctor Kyle's yellow, tight-skinned face grew a little paler. He rose hastily and followed Eben Hand through the doorway which, I remembered, led to the cellar stair. Silently, the doctor's toothless, wrinkled wife watched the door with her too-bright eyes. She listened. Presently we heard a sound from below. It was a low scream--of tortured, animal agony. When she heard it, Sarah Kyle relaxed as if with relief. Her bright eyes came back to the table; her brown, claw-like hands buttered a piece of bread. Her thin voice asked me: "Clay, what business was ye in, in China?" "One and another," I told her, absently. "The last was copper and tin, in the province of Szechwan." I was looking at Valyne.