HAT should you guess," Sir Provost asked, glancing around the room from face to face, "to be Trepniak's age?"
His glance finally rested on the face of Torrington, into whose eyes an almost wild look of enlightenment had leapt; but Carey was the first to answer, and:
"It is very hard to judge," he said, "in the case of a man of his type, but I should say between thirty-five and forty."
"I think he is older," Jasmine declared; "not perhaps in his appearance, or his habits, but in his outlook."
"Ah!" Torrington exclaimed. "Woman's wisdom!"
"That is so." Sir Provost nodded his head. "But I await your opinion, Torrington."
"I hesitate to give it," Torrington replied. "You see, I have examined the man, and frankly, he puzzles me. You say thirty-five to forty, Carey? And you, Miss Hope?"
"I should guess him nearer fifty," she said.
"Ah!" Torrington repeated, and began to walk up and down excitedly. "But I rather fancy. Sir Provost"—turning to meet the other's glance—"that you know the facts?"
"I do," Sir Provost admitted. "Trepniak is between ninety-six and ninety-seven years of age."
"What!"
Carey almost jumped out of his seat. Jasmine's eyes became round mirrors of wonderment. But:
"I knew it!" Torrington shouted. "I knew it! Now I understand his skin, and now I understand Chapter Thirty-six of Atomic Pathology."
"Atomic Pathology," Sir Provost took him up, "was written when its author, Hadrian von Gühl, was over seventy. It is an elaboration of a series of lectures delivered at Leipzig during the latter part of 1898 and the beginning of 1899. It brought about a revolution in the treatment of lymphatics, as you know, Torrington, but its deeper significance has apparently been overlooked."
"It was overlooked by me," Torrington Interrupted, "until I found Trepniak studying a work of Gühl's on the occasion of my first visit. This started a train of thought: I followed it up, re-reading Atomic Pathology with care. I had particularly in mind the extraordinary quality of the man's skin."
Sir Provost Hope raised his hand, checking the speaker.
"You were quite right, Torrington," he said; "very cleverly you were groping your way toward the truth. I don't doubt that in time you would have reached it. According to Trepniak's account"—he consulted the manuscript—"it was in 1902 that the system hinted at in Chapters Thirty-six to Forty-one of Atomic Pathology was developed by Gühl to a point at which he felt justified in experimenting upon human subjects.
"It is strange how Science constantly catches up with and outdistances superstition. All the modern blood-infusion theories are no more, of course, than adaptations of the methods ascribed to vampires in the Middle Ages, and Gühl's system of rejuvenation is based upon his discovery of the properties of a certain gland in the human body. An extraction from this gland, in the case of a young and healthy subject, produces no ill-effects in the person yielding it. The extraction of too large a quantity, however, may very readily prove fatal.
"This secretion Gühl incorporated with a certain proportion of blood drawn from the veins of the person to be rejuvenated; such was the base of his serum. There was a third constituent of purely mineral character, costly, and difficult to prepare. Upon this point I need say no more.
"Professor Gühl made his first experiment on a hospital patient of advanced years, and apparently marked for death. His laboratory assistant, a chemist named Weissler, induced a young member of his own family to submit to the slight operation necessary for the preparation of the serum; and the experiment was made. This in the spring of 1903."
"What was the result?" Torrington cried eagerly.
"The immediate death of the patient!" was the reply. "But Gühl was not dismayed. He recognized where he had gone wrong, and experimented again. This time he succeeded, within limitations. The subject was a man of the peasant class nearing eighty, and Gühl restored him to vigorous health in less than a week. Great secrecy was observed, and the patient, of course, was kept under close observation. There were curious features in the case. First, the man's skin became blanched like that of an albino."
"Good God!" Torrington exclaimed.
"The hair also was colourless, as in leucosis; and thirdly, he developed the traits of a dangerous wild animal, finally having to be strapped to the bed to prevent his homicidal outbursts. Lastly, in the enjoyment of full physical vigour, he suddenly collapsed and died some three weeks after the operation had been performed.