When I was ready, I staged my own death. I entered my laboratory, locked the door on the inside, and arranged the skeleton in such a way that it would become a mere charred collection of bones, but would not be utterly consumed. With it I placed all the incombustible means of identification that I could find, chief among them a gold ring. Then, having lit a fuse, and placed my combustibles round it, I made my escape by a ladder through the skylights of the laboratory. I should add that I had collected a quantity of meat from the butcher and placed it where the fire would reach it. The smell of burning flesh was a useful element of suggestion.

My plan succeeded. Dr. Morlandson died and was buried. I retired to a hiding-place which I had prepared and provisioned, a disused clay-working 846 yards South 23 degrees East (true) from my laboratory. My hair had turned white during my imprisonment. I had only to allow my beard to grow, and I became the venerable herbalist, Elmer Ludgrove, seeking premises in which to practise his trade.