sound which might lead him to the victim he sought,
or warn him from the apartment of the girl or that of
von Horn--his business was with Professor Maxon. He did
not wish to disturb the others whom he believed to be
sleeping somewhere within the structure--a low,
rambling bungalow of eight rooms.

Cautiously he approached one of the four doors which
opened from the living room. Gently he turned the knob
and pushed the door ajar. The interior of the
apartment beyond was in inky darkness, but Number
Thirteen's greatest fear was that he might have
stumbled upon the sleeping room of Virginia Maxon,
and that if she were to discover him there, not only
would she be frightened, but her cries would alarm
the other inmates of the dwelling.

The thought of the horror that his presence would
arouse within her, the knowledge that she would look
upon him as a terrifying monstrosity, added new fuel
to the fires of hate that raged in his bosom against
the man who had created him. With clenched fists,
and tight set jaws the great, soulless giant moved across
the dark chamber with the stealthy noiselessness of a tiger.
Feeling before him with hands and feet he made the circuit
of the room before he reached the bed.

Scarce breathing he leaned over and groped across the
covers with his fingers in search of his prey--the bed
was empty. With the discovery came a sudden nervous