When Clark Murdock recovered from his bewilderment that followed his strange discovery, he stood with his chin resting in one hand and surveyed the body on the floor before him. A keen analyst, Murdock sought to fathom the mystery that lay here. But his mind was schooled to chemistry, not crime. The longer he surveyed the gruesome form, the more did he become perplexed. He was tempted at first to replace the body in the box and inclose it so that it could be taken away when the truckmen came. Then the thought occurred to him that the men were long overdue, that in all probability they had been instructed not to come back for the box.
The upshot was that Clark Murdock had in his possession the dead body of an unknown man, whose garb and features were characteristic of his own. This was something that seemed too amazing to be merely coincidence.
What should he do? Call the police? That would be the proper course, yet Murdock hesitated to take it. He realized that he would be subjected to a most undesirable cross-examination, and that it would be difficult for him to explain matters in a satisfactory way.
He had not seen the box come in. Stevens had been here, but Murdock knew the stupidity of his assistant. He doubted that either he or Stevens could give the police any information that would enable them to trace the owner of the box.
Nevertheless, the whole matter was a source of great annoyance to the chemist, and he felt that he must summon someone competent to handle it. He had planned extensive experiments tonight. These would be interrupted. Murdock did not like it.
Then it occurred to him that if the truckmen should return — even though that chance was remote — it would be advisable to apprehend them.
That left only one choice. He must call the police. Delay would be unwise. Nodding to himself, the stoop-shouldered chemist went back into his laboratory and continued into his living room. There he seated himself at the telephone table and began to consult the directory, to find the number of detective headquarters.
While he was thus engaged, he heard a slight sound nearby and looked up suddenly to see Doctor Gerald Savette. The physician had just entered the room from the hallway and was bowing courteously.
"I trust I am not intruding?" The physician's tone was smooth and easy. "I found that I could return immediately after I reached my office. I had hopes that your guests would still be here."
"How did you get in?" questioned Murdock, testily.
"Through the front door," replied Doctor Savette suavely. "I rang the bell and there was no response. Then I remembered that your man had gone for the night. I also recalled that you and the others had been in the laboratory when I left. So I took the liberty of opening the door and coming upstairs."
"But the door was locked," declared Murdock. "I haven't any objection to your entering, Doctor Savette. You are always welcome here. But I cannot understand how you came in through a locked door."
"I found it unlocked," returned the physician, with a smile. "Otherwise I could not have entered."
"I must have forgotten to lock it," observed Clark Murdock, thoughtfully. "Strange — I felt sure that I had pushed the bolts on the door. An oversight on my part, doctor, but a fortunate one. I am glad that you are here."
"I am pleased to hear that," said Savette. "I should like to talk with you further in reference to your experiments—"
"There is something more important for the moment, doctor. Something that demands immediate attention."
"Something more important than your experiments?" Doctor Savette's tone showed his puzzlement. "I can scarcely believe that, Mr. Murdock."
The chemist arose and placed the phone book to one side. He beckoned to his visitor and led the way through the laboratory. Murdock was speaking as they walked along.
"I was just about to telephone the police," he explained. "Your arrival was a timely one. I needed advice, immediately, and I could think of no one who could help me."
"My advice on what?" questioned Savette, as they reached the far door. "Why should you need the police?"
"Here is the reason," declared Murdock, calmly.
He opened the door to the landing and pointed to the body on the floor. Doctor Savette drew back with an exclamation of surprise. Then he stepped forward and examined the body.
"The man is dead," he declared. "He appears to have been strangled." He stared silently at the still face; then looked up at Murdock. He stepped back and surveyed the body; then gazed at his living companion.
"Amazing!" he exclaimed. "Amazing, Murdock! The man bears a remarkable resemblance to you!"
"That is what puzzles me," declared the chemist.
"When did this box come here?" questioned Savette.
"Today," said Murdock. "Delivered by mistake. That, at least, is what Stevens told me. The truckmen are supposed to come for it at any time."
"Hm-m-m," responded the physician. "This is perplexing, Murdock. Yet it seems to have a strange significance. It is not likely that the sender of such a box would let it go to the wrong place. Frankly, I don't think that those men will return. I think the box was intended to be left here."
"But why?"
"So that you would open it — and make the discovery, exactly as you have done."
"I had the same idea," admitted Murdock, "but I can't understand the purpose."
"It might be the work of some enemy," said Doctor Savette, slowly. "Some one may wish to hamper your experiments. You were about to call the police. If they should come here, it would mean a great deal of trouble and annoyance to you — enough, perhaps, to delay your work for some time."
"That is true," responded Murdock, "but I can not understand why the body should be specially dressed in working clothes like mine."
"I have another theory," resumed the physician, thoughtfully. "This may be a threat — a plan to frighten you. The person who sent this box could not have expected you to open it tonight. You were expecting men to take it away."
"That's right," agreed the chemist. "I can't explain exactly why I did open it. I suppose that I would ordinarily have allowed it to remain for several days, before investigating its contents."
"Correct," declared Savette. "Now let us suppose that a message is on its way, that you are to receive a threat — in which the box is mentioned. Opening the box, you find a dead body that resembles yourself. That would certainly make the threat emphatic, would it not? Particularly if the threat were directed against your life."
Clark Murdock nodded in accord. Then he showed a sudden response to Doctor Savette's statement:
"I think you have struck the right theory, doctor," he exclaimed. "That makes it imperative for me to call the police. I do not intend to lose another moment."
The chemist was turning to the door that led into the laboratory. His hand was already on the knob.
"Wait!"
There was a command in Doctor Savette's exclamation. Clark Murdock turned in surprise. He stared at the physician and noted a peculiar expression on the man's face.
Stocky and sallow, with shrewd eyes, Doctor Savette appeared as a menacing figure instead of the suave, polite professional man that he had been a moment before. It was Murdock's sudden turn that enabled him to catch his companion off poise.
While the chemist stared in consternation, Savette's masklike affability was resumed.
Again he became the suave physician and his persuasive voice sought to regain the confidence of Murdock.
"It would be inadvisable to call the police," purred the doctor. "That is exactly what the sender of this box would expect you to do—"
Murdock's voice sounded an interruption.
"You speak," he said coldly, "as though you are acquainted with the perpetrator of this outrage! It was very timely — your arrival — while I was at the telephone. Suppose" — Murdock's eyes were gleaming furiously — "that I should accuse you of complicity in the crime that lies evidenced there before us? What would you say to that, Doctor Savette?"
The stinging words had their effect. Savette's lips spread in an ugly leer. His sallow face became tense and a vein swelled in his forehead. No longer attempting to play his part of friendliness, he gave full rein to his fury as he moved slowly forward.
Murdock released his hold upon the doorknob and raised his clenched hands. Though light of build and older than his antagonist, the stoop-shouldered chemist was a wiry man, capable of putting up a battle. He met Savette's advance and the two men stood with their eyes no more than a foot apart, each meeting the other's gaze.
There was no fear in Murdock's stare and Savette, though he had become a veritable demon, hesitated as he saw the firm, unyielding glare in Murdock's determined eyes. It was the chemist who spoke first; and his words were ironical with bitter condemnation.
"So you returned," he said. "You passed through a double-bolted door. Anxious to reach here before the others had gone, eh? You lied, Savette! You never left this house! You waited in one of my empty rooms until the others had gone.
"You are here for an evil purpose. That body in the box is your doing. You are not my friend; you are my enemy! I do not know your scheme, but I can tell you this" — his voice hardened with emphasis — "I can tell you that you will not leave here tonight until I have learned your designs and placed you where you belong!
"I know what you are. Murderer!"
A hideous change had come over the physician's face. His clenched teeth were grinning like the fangs of a monster.
Murdock's accusation had done its work. Gerald Savette stood revealed as a fiend. Now, his voice, like his manner, betrayed his true character as he answered Murdock's words of scorn.
"You call me a murderer," he snarled. "I am a murderer! I killed the man whose body lies here on the floor! You accuse me of complicity. I am more than an accomplice. I sent that box here, Murdock. You blundered into it and learned what it contained. That is something you should never have discovered.
"But it makes no difference now. You think that I am thwarted" — a vicious laugh spattered from Savette's ugly lips — "and that I shall let you call the police. You are wrong, Murdock. Wrong, as you shall learn—" Savette's hands were stealing toward his pocket. He was trying to hold Murdock's gaze so that the chemist would not see the action.
Scarcely had Savette's fingers disappeared from view before Murdock leaped forward upon him. Savette twisted away as his attacker struck. But he was too late. The wiry chemist seized his right wrist as the hand came forth with an automatic.
A sharp twist and Savette was weaponless as the gun fell to the floor beside the dead body that lay there.
Then the men were locked in a ferocious struggle. Savette, though heavier and more powerful, had met an antagonist of unexpected strength. They hurtled back and forth in the narrow confines of the landing, each man grim and determined.
Clark Murdock was gaining the advantage. He gripped his opponent's arms and held them pinioned. He drove Savette backward until the snarling fiend stumbled over the body on the floor and fell, with Murdock pounding down upon him.
For a moment, Savette's left arm was free. His hand once more gained his pocket.
Murdock, suspecting another pistol, tugged at the wrist until the hand came into view.
Savette's fist was clenched tightly. It held no visible weapon. But Murdock, with grim determination, sought to pin the physician's arm underneath his body.
It was then that Savette made a wild, desperate motion. He struggled fiercely and clambered upward, clawing with his right hand at Murdock's eyes. The chemist dodged the sudden attack and wrapped his right arm about Savette's neck. He had turned the twist to his advantage. He was choking his foe into submission.
Savette's head went back and Murdock stared into the leering face as it purpled visibly.
Savette's arms swept free and stretched upon the floor. Then his left hand swung upward, unseen by the man who was conquering him.
A tiny object flashed in Savette's fist as he drove it toward Murdock's shoulder. A sharp grunt came from Murdock as the needle of a hypodermic pierced his flesh. Savette's arms dropped and his head thumped back against the floor. The hypodermic syringe clattered upon the floor. Savette was choking, gasping, helpless; but his needle had done its work.
Murdock's hold relaxed. The fighting chemist swayed backward and forward. His body flopped suddenly to one side and rolled upon the floor.
Three men lay motionless. Gerald Savette was scarcely breathing. Clark Murdock was slumped in a heap. Beside them was the stiffened form of the unknown dead man.
Soon Savette moved. Wearily, he raised his head and drew himself to a sitting position by gripping the side of the big box.
The fiendish leer glowered on his face. Then, as he raised himself to his feet, he took on his normal pose. He carefully dusted his clothes and stood, with folded arms, smiling serenely at the scene before him. Two motionless men — Clark Murdock and another. Two men, garbed alike, similar in features and appearance. A casual observer could not have told which was the famous chemist and which the body from the box.
Calmly, Savette picked up his automatic and pocketed it. He found the hypodermic near a corner of the box and examined it to make sure that it had done its full work. Then he inspected the form of Clark Murdock, as his face continued to wear its knowing smile.
To outward appearances, the famous chemist was dead. His wrinkled face had gained a chalk-like pallor. His body was stiffened as Doctor Savette lifted it and thrust it unmercifully into the box. Assuring himself that Murdock was well wedged among the cushions, Savette replaced the front of the box and carefully hammered it into place.
He pressed the button at the elevator shaft and brought the car to the second floor. Then he gradually edged the box into the lift and rode downstairs with it. He pushed it from the elevator. Then Doctor Savette opened an outer door and peered into the darkness of an alley. A flashlight glimmered in his hand. It was a signal.
A truck moved along the alley. It stopped by the open door and two husky, dark-clad men entered. They lifted the box and carried it away. They saw no sign of Doctor Savette. They heard only the mechanism of the elevator ascending.
The truck rolled from the alley, carrying its newly obtained baggage. All was silent at the old house. Upstairs, Doctor Gerald Savette was working quietly and with precision. He lifted the body of the dead man — that form that looked so much like Clark Murdock — and carried it into the chemist's laboratory. There he placed it in front of the table that bore the huge, hollow crystal. Doctor Savette laughed as he gazed at the face of the dead man. It looked amazingly like the countenance of Clark Murdock. It bore thin, close-knit scars that Savette stroked carefully with his forefinger. That face was the artifice of plastic surgery — a craft in which Doctor Gerald excelled. Leaving the body, the physician selected several bottles from the shelf. He poured a mixture of liquids into a shallow bowl and left it close beside the crystal sphere. He pressed the switch. A humming sound began and sparks flickered back and forth within the crystal.
Savette laughed as the weird activity increased. In a few minutes, the display of the atomic energy would be more evident. Then it would become forceful, bursting with increased fury until at last the walls of the crystal globe could not withstand it!
But Doctor Savette did not choose to wait for that tremendous moment. He walked quickly across the laboratory, latched the door behind him and went downstairs by the elevator.
He left the house by the exit to the dark alley.
Only the silence of death remained in the home of Clark Murdock. Up in the laboratory, the atomic power was surging soundless within the crystal sphere. Before it, stooped as though in thought, was the body of the dead man.
Dynamic, bursting particles were smashing against the sides of the crystal prison. It was a mighty spectacle in miniature. But the eyes that stared toward the weird display were sightless!