we do for food—you, Aña, and I?"
Sir Basil lifted his brows. "You don't think I overlooked that, do you? What is food? Various combinations of the basic elements. I who have conquered the atom need never worry about starving to death."
All this time, the machinery had been humming, and now the humming changed its note to a shrill whistle. Sir Basil went to the eye-piece and looked into it. Opening a door in the machinery, he disappeared inside. He came out soon, flushed and evidently elated.
"Bring the stretcher, Oakham," he ordered.
Hale brought the stretcher, placing it close to the machine. Then Sir Basil opened a metal door and gently eased out a human body.
It was Unani Assu, unconscious but alive and breathing. Hale, helping the scientist to get the man on the stretcher, noticed that the crushed legs were perfectly healed. Together they bore him to a long seat. The Indian's eyes were still closed, but his even breathing indicated that he was only sleeping.
Suddenly Hale pointed a finger and cried out. "My God, Sir Basil, look at his hands and feet!"
UNANI ASSU, still lying like a recumbent bronze statue sculptured by a master, was perfect from shoulder to wrist, from thigh to ankle. But, somewhere in that diabolical machine through which he had passed, his hands and feet had undergone a hideous metamorphism which had transformed them from the well-formed extremities of a splendid young Indian into the hairy paws of a giant rat!
Hale turned away his head, sick with disgust.
Sir Basil cut the silence triumphantly:
"Now he'll never again face Aña with love in his eyes!"
"What!" broke in Hale. "Did you plan this monstrous thing?"
"Of course! I told you I should forever cure him of his mad infatuation."
"But why didn't you kill him, as you killed the others? It would have been the most merciful way."
Sir Basil showed his teeth in his ugly smile. "A creator is never merciful."
A quiver passed through the Indian's body and presently, he sighed deeply and opened his eyes. He seemed dazed, puzzled. He looked from Hale to the scientist, and turned seeking eyes to other parts of the laboratory.
"Aña!" he called weakly. "Where is Aña?"
He pulled himself a little unsteadily to his feet—to the spatulated, hairy rodent feet that had come out of the life-machine. Staggering, he would have fallen, had he not thrown out his arm to steady himself. Instinctively he tried to grasp something for support, and then, for the first time, he discovered his deformity.
HALE was never to forget that expression of horror and disgust that swept over the Indian's face as he spread open his revolting extremities and stared at them.
A sudden, wild roar of despair rang through the room. "Aimu! My hands!"
The scientist smiled with evident amusement. "You are a grotesque sight, Unani Assu. Do you want to see Aña now?"
The fright and horror faded from the Indian's face, for now he glared with hate into the mad, mocking eyes.
"You did it!" the Indian ground out. "You've made me into a thing from which Aña will run screaming."
Through the quiet rage of the perfectly spoken English ran a thread of sorrow. "Aimu, whom we considered too holy to name!"
Choking, he hobbled away to the door, which he unbolted. As he passed out into the open, Sir Basil went over to the machine and began sighting the projector which cast forth the ray of destruction.
"No!" cried Hale. "You've done enough murder for to-day."
