CHAPTER IV

A Change of Sex

The effect was far from what Gilmour had anticipated. This time there was no smouldering fury, no crushing bitterness. Neville leaned back in his chair, smiled, and became friendly-almost benevolent again.

`Hm, hm, I see, Arnold," he said thoughtfully, then in almost fatherly tone, "and though I quite understand your desires, I am afraid they are no longer possible."

"No longer possible," repeated Gilmour in a puzzled voice, then he became suddenly pale. "Why not? Has anything happened to her?" he cried, rising from his chair, alarmed at the hidden meaning of the words and stricken with all the grim forebodings of a man very much in love.

"Dear me, no," chuckled Neville as though enjoying a private joke of his own. "Calm yourself. Have you ever thought, Gilmour, that Jean may no longer be in love with you?"

"Oh, that's ridiculous," said Arnold impatiently and very uneasily. He was tiring of the old man, and his hate for him was rapidly returning. Neville had disturbed him; his fortnight away from Jeanette seemed years. He wanted to find her and hear her whispered reassurances. "Ridiculous, and for Jeanette alone to decide," he said, turning towards the door. "Plea-se excuse me, Professor, as I would like to let Jeanette know that I have arrived."

"Very well, my boy," said Neville still in amiable tones, "you will find Jean in the laboratory. But remember, should my opinion be correct, I think that you will both be the best of friends' and nothing would please me more so, as I 'have the greatest respect and affection for you, Arnold," and with a faint smile upon his face, be returned to his microscope.

The sun shone brilliantly on bottles and instruments when Arnold entered the laboratory. He went into the room quietly, intending to surprise his sweetheart, but his face fell when he saw no sign of her. There was only a young man, evidently an assistant of the professor's, working at the end of the long room, and too occupied to notice Gilmour's entrance.

Arnold's temper rose as he left the laboratory and went over to the Mount House. He was annoyed to find the place quite devoid of servants or gardeners. It irritated him; it made the place feel like a huge deserted ship. He searched in every place where he expected to find Jeanette, and it was only when he reached their favorite spot-the Rose garden-that he remembered that his glance around the laboratory had been so brief that Jeanette may have been bending behind a bench or in an alcove when he looked in.

He retraced his steps to the laboratory. This time he walked boldly in and disturbed the young man at his work.

He looked around -at Gilmour with a shy smile upon his face, and with a slight shock Arnold saw that his features were so like Jeanette's that he may have been her brother.

"Hello!" said the youth uncomfortably.

Gilmour greeted him with the impatient suspicion one always has for newly turned up and previously unmentioned relatives. Then he brusquely asked if he knew anything of Jeanette's whereabouts.

For some reason this question seemed to unnerve the youth, and it bad the effect of jerking Gilmour out of his temper-, a slight wave of fear passed through' his body, a vague hint as though his subconscious mind bad already detected some unnamable tragedy.

"Tell me," he said, gripping the boy's arm. "What's wrong with this damned house today? I've searched the whole place and there's neither man nor beast about. Answer me, do you know where Jean is?"

There was silence for a moment; the youth was looking at the bench and Gilmour became suddenly sick when he felt the boy's arm tremble in his grasp. He knew then that there was horror in this house-horror beyond all human understanding.

The youth turned- and looked him full in the face,

"Arnold!" he whispered, and in the boy's eyes Gilmour saw the vanishing of his dreams-the submerging of a soul, the last few ripples on the water, then a glassy calmness reflecting back his own features. The fight was won and lost.

Gilmour's mind seemed to shake from its moorings. He was dimly conscious of Neville and his serum, slowly released his grip and crumpled against the bench.

"Oh, God!" he groaned with a little sob, and all the age of his ancestors was upon his face. He looked up and down the long room and licked his lips.

"Jean, my darling," he said simply. "Why did you do this?"

"Oh, Arnold," cried the youth with pity. "My poor Arnold, I thought father had told you." He raised his hand to caress Gilmour's face and Arnold shuddered when he drew it back halfway with the shamed smile a man has at displaying affection for another of his sex. CLICK HERE TO GO TO CHAPTER IV (part 2)