reaction that sent him into a cold sweat. Weakly,
he seated himself upon the edge of the bed.
Had his fingers found the throat of Professor Maxon
beneath the coverlet they would never have released
their hold until life had forever left the body
of the scientist, but now that the highest tide
of the young man's hatred had come and gone
he found himself for the first time assailed by doubts.

Suddenly he recalled the fact that the man whose life
he sought was the father of the beautiful creature he adored.
Perhaps she loved him and would be unhappy were he taken
away from her. Number Thirteen did not know, of course,
but the idea obtruded itself, and had sufficient weight
to cause him to remain seated upon the edge of the
bed meditating upon the act he contemplated.
He had by no means given up the idea of killing
Professor Maxon, but now there were doubts
and obstacles which had not been manifest before.

His standards of right and wrong were but half formed,
from the brief attempts of Professor Maxon and von Horn
to inculcate proper moral perceptions in a mind entirely
devoid of hereditary inclinations toward either good or bad,
but he realized one thing most perfectly--that to be
a soulless thing was to be damned in the estimation
of Virginia Maxon, and it now occurred to him that
to kill her father would be the act of a soulless being.
It was this thought more than another that caused him
to pause in the pursuit of his revenge, since he knew