Again his will triumphed. He must wait a few seconds longer, wait till the whole room was full of gas. But could he, dare he? His senses were slipping away fast. Yet he must retain consciousness, if only for those few seconds. The Black Sailor was glaring at him with baleful eyes, eyes that suddenly seemed familiar, as though they stared out at him from the past, many, many years ago. Where had he seen those eyes before? The Professor’s strength and energy were failing him fast. He knew that, even if the Black Sailor offered no opposition, he could not reach the broken pipe and stop the rush of the gas. He felt his muscles failing him, his brain refusing to struggle any longer against the luxurious sleep which enticed it. He must make his effort now, before he yielded to that sweet, enthralling sleep which could know no awakening. Stealthily he felt in his pockets, forcing his reluctant fingers to their work. Then, even as the Black Sailor struggled to his feet, and stood there swaying dizzily, the Professor slid to the floor, and struck the match which he held in his hand. There was a roar as of the heavens opening, a bright, scorching sea of flame, and the Professor knew no more. Chapter XXIII The Will He came to himself slowly and confusedly. A strong light was glaring into his eyes, and he could hear voices, voices which he did not recognize, all about him. He seemed to be lying on the floor, his shoulders supported in somebody’s arms. Gradually he began to distinguish words and sentences. “This one’s coming round, I believe.” “All right, the doctor’ll be here in a minute.” “T’other one’s gone, I’m afraid. I can’t feel his pulse at all.” “Here, help me to clear this plaster off him, somebody. The explosion seems to have brought the ceiling down. It’s a wonder it didn’t blow the roof off. Have you got that gas turned off at the main yet?” “Ah, here’s the doctor. Been a bit of a smash here, doctor. Gas explosion, from what I can see of it. Two hurt, one of ’em killed, I fancy. Take this one first, will you?” The Professor saw a face peering into his own. “Well, my friend, what’s happened to you? Blown up, eh? Let’s have a look at you. Any bones broken? Doesn’t look like it. Can you move your legs? Good. Any pain anywhere?” “No. I was stunned, I think, when the explosion took place.” Dr. Priestley’s senses were returning rapidly. The whole scene flashed back to him, the feeble glimmer of the little hand-lamp, the figure of the Black Sailor, formidable, immense, swaying towards him—— Before the supporting arms could prevent him, he had struggled to his feet. Something about his head felt unfamiliar, and he passed his hand over it. Every particle of hair had disappeared. He was bald, clean-shaven, without eyebrows or eyelashes. “Steady, steady,” came a voice soothingly. “We’ll soon get you out of this. Here, sit down in this chair, or what remains of it.”