“And I suppose, now,” commented Anthony Dexter, with assumed sarcasm, “your idol has fallen?”

“Not fallen, Father.  Don’t say that.  You have the same right to your opinions that I have, but it isn’t square to cut up an animal alive, just because you’re the stronger and there’s no law to prevent you.  You know it isn’t square!”

In the accusing silence, Ralph left the room, and was shortly on his way uphill, with Araminta’s promised cat mewing in his coat pocket.

The grim, sardonic humour of the situation appealed strongly to Doctor Dexter.  “To think,” he said to himself, “that only last night, that identical cat was observed as a fresh and promising specimen, providentially sent to me in the hour of need.  And if I hadn’t wanted Ralph to help me, Araminta’s pet would at this moment have been on the laboratory table, having its heart studied—­in action.”

Repeatedly, he strove to find justification for a pursuit which his human instinct told him had no justification.  His reason was fully adequate, but something else failed at the crucial point.  He felt definitely uncomfortable and wished that Ralph might have avoided the subject.  It was none of his business, anyway.  But then, Ralph himself had admitted that.

His experiments were nearly completed along the line in which he had been working.  In deference to a local sentiment which he felt to be extremely narrow and dwarfing, he had done his work secretly.  He had kept the door of the laboratory locked and the key in his pocket.  All the doors and windows had been closely barred.  When his subjects had given out under the heavy physical strain, he had buried the pitiful little bodies himself.

He had counted, rather too surely, on the deafness of his old housekeeper, and had also heavily discounted her personal interest in his pursuits and her tendency to gossip.  Yet, through this single channel had been disseminated information and conjecture which made it difficult for Ralph to buy a pet for Araminta.

Anthony Dexter shuddered at his narrow escape.  Suppose Araminta’s cat had been sacrificed, and he had been obliged to tell Ralph?  One more experiment was absolutely necessary.  He was nearly satisfied, but not quite.  It would be awkward to have Ralph make any unpleasant discoveries, and he could not very well keep him out of the laboratory, now, without arousing his suspicion.  Very possibly, a man who would torture an animal would also torture a human being, but he was unwilling to hurt Ralph.  Consequently, there was a flaw in the logic—­the boy’s reasoning was faulty, unless this might be the exception which proved the rule.

Who was Evelina Grey?  He wondered how Ralph had come to ask the question.  Suppose he had told him that Evelina Grey was the name of a woman who haunted him, night and day!  In her black gown and with her burned face heavily veiled, she was seldom out of his mental sight.