Kill her? Kill whom? Then the mystery of the murdered girl darted into
her mind. Katie had been right then. There was in truth a murdered girl.
Was this awful creature her slayer?

Suddenly, with a confidential gesture he bade her sit down with him.

"I'll tell you about it," he said; "if she had only kept still! But she
screamed and tried to run away, I can't stand noise!" He clapped his
hands over his ears as if to shut out the echo of it. "I must have this
blood--this pure, young, life-giving stream. But she would not listen to
me. Poor thing! It was too bad, wasn't it? Hey? Speak!" and he grasped
her delicate wrist with a grip of steel.

Trembling at the sound of her own voice, the girl commanded herself to
say:

"Yes; who was she?"

"I don't know," he replied, seriously. "She was beautiful and fresh; she
was almost as fair as you," letting his wild eyes roam over her. "I was
getting away from that cursed place. Think of confining a man of my
learning in a madhouse! But that was just it. I had mastered the new
theory--the transfusion of blood. They wanted to steal my glory, so they
locked me in. But I outwitted them; I captured these and ran away."

Laughing wildly but still under his breath, he took from his jacket a
black case of bright, new surgical instruments.

"These were what I needed," he continued, with a low chuckle; "I could
not attain the goal without these beauties." Caressingly he went over