Chapter 10

“What business is that of yours?” he challenged as he pushed one of his unholy specimens _in vitro_ farther over on his desk. “I thought we were friends,” I reminded him, with a head-nod toward the snoring Knutsson. And after another silence the man of science wagged his head slowly up and down. “You are right,” he said, with a kindlier light in his eye. And I watched him as he turned to a desk-drawer and from its depth drew out a small metal object that glittered bright in the lamplight. I saw, as he held it out t…