“No,” said Willett gravely, “again you are wrong. It is no business of mine if any man seeks duality; provided he has any right to exist at all, and provided he does not destroy what called him out of space .”

Ward now started violently. “Well, Sir, what have ye found, and what d’ye want with me?”

The doctor let a little time elapse before replying, as if choosing his words for an effective answer.

“I have found,” he finally intoned, “something in a cupboard behind an ancient overmantel where a picture once was, and I have burned it and buried the ashes where the grave of Charles Dexter Ward ought to be.”

The madman choked and sprang from the chair in which he had been sitting:

“Damn ye, who did ye tell⁠—and who’ll believe it was he after these full two months, with me alive? What d’ye mean to do?”