get a subject soon, for she is wasting away fast. Oh, yes, I have observed it. Death has his fingers at her throat."
His voice was the voice of the man of science: there was not the slightest intonation that might have indicated other than passing interest in the unhappy Elena.
"What I am afraid of," he resumed, "is that even a human being's spirit will not materialize properly within the bell, unless instructed previously. And how can I expect a criminal to lend himself voluntarily to an experiment that necessitates his death for its success? No, the fool would cling too closely to his miserable life, and might even refuse to listen when I tried to prepare and instruct him. I ought to have for my experiment someone who knows just what I want done; someone who will carry out my wishes faithfully. And where I am I to find such a person?" he finished lugubriously.
THE curtains over the doorway swayed to admit Elena. It was only too evident from her expression that she had heard part, if not all, of her husband's words. There was an incomprehensible expression within those dark orbs that shrank not from the glance the professor turned upon the intruder.
"There is but one person in the whole world who could, and would, be able to carry out your ideas," said she, deliberately.
Filippo whirled upon Dottore del Giovine, relief and joy flashing over his face. Del Giovine gave a short exclamation and took an involuntary step forward, horror written on his face. The other man turned to Elena, caught her hands in his, and gazed down into those pellucid depths whence came the glow of a fire that burned within her heart for him alone.
"Elena! Can you really mean it? You fill me with the most intense, most vivid gratitude and admiration—and," he added hastily as if with an afterthought, "love."
"My life is burning low," was her quiet reply. "If my death can profit you, it is yours for the asking—if you desire it."
Stiff with incredulous horror, the doctor stood rooted to the spot. Elena knew what the professor desired; she was ready, willing, to serve as the subject of his experiment. It was for her a final proof of her love for him—and a test of his love for her. She realized that she alone, of all the world, knew the occult foundations of the science that would enable her to carry out successfully the other part of the experiment.
With an access of lofty emotions, Filippo Panebianco gathered her into his arms and kissed her pallid brow. Elena's dark eyes closed ecstatically under this caress; she felt his heart beating high, but knew, alas! it was not for her; it was with renewed hope for the success of the stupendous performance to which he had long been irrevocably pledged.
"Now I shall vindicate myself to those who have called me a visionary, a madman!" Filippo cried in triumph.
His wife clung to him, her eyes seeking his with an appeal that he deliberately refused to recognize. He was only too afraid that Elena might change her mind, might refuse what he desired more than anything else on earth: the accomplishment of his plans.
Hanging eagerly and anxiously on her reply, the professor murmured: "When, Elena? When?"
"When you desire, my husband. The fire of my life is burning very low."
"This is infamous!" cried Giuseppe del Giovine, in an outburst that
