Photoplay (Apr - Sep 1918)

6o Photoplay Magazine There, in her lap, was Donald's little soldier cap — he wore it when he used to play he was her hero; when he would brandish a very fierce tin sword and ward off imaginary foes, and, at last, climbing up on her lap, would bury his face in her shoulder, and nod until sleep came. Laurel felt the stinging tears; and they brought her relief. Now, it was work — nothing but work. Her only solace. The serum for infantile paralysis had proved efficacious in cases where it was administered within t w e n t y-f our hour's time; so she next devoted herself to the search for " I want you to take Donald to the country, where he'll be out of danger," Durand told Laurel. "Here you're endangering the life of my son." smile. The jealousy he had always felt for Laurel's work, was now at fever heat and directed towards her utter absorption in Richard Leslie. Ever since Donald's death, Durand had been drinking heavily; and now every glass he drained seemed to conjure up for him some new thought of revenge for his fancied wrongs. He revelled in hideous imaginings, each more terrible than the last. His obsession became a mania. an effective anthrax serum. The media necessary for this, Laurel decided, was a rare specimen of the Mascarine turtle. She tried to secure the one specimen in the city Zoo; but the authorities refused either to sell it or to donate it to science. Several months passed before, with the help of Dr. Leslie, she managed to obtain two specimens from Tahiti. Shortly afterwards one was accidentally killed; but with the fluid from the remaining turtle, she was enabled to perfect the serum which, she felt sure, would spell freedom for victims of the disease. She was convinced, having made several successful experiments on animals, that the time had now come to test her discovery on a human being; and no patient being available at the moment who had not already received the usual treatment, Laurel decided to innoculate herself. But Dr. Leslie protested. He believed in her, and in her discovery; and he begged her to let him be the subject of this vital experiment, rather than herself. Laurel, besides being deeply moved by Richard's offer, thoroughly believed in the effectiveness of her serum — and accepted Leslie's offer. Arrangements were soon made for taking care of the doctor in her home; and several prominent physicians were invited to watch the progress, first of the infection, and later of the injections, when the anti-toxin was to be administered. Durand was a perfect host. Cordiality itself — while all the time there was malice in his eyes, and hate behind his The night came when Dr. Leslie, having been infected with the germ, was to receive the first injection. Laurel was snatching an hour's sleep, preparing for the long night of work to come. Durand had retired to his den on the top floor, far from the scene of Laurel's work, from the room where Leslie lay. He fortified himself with alcohol; and it was then that the most hideous idea of all came to him. He would destroy the precious serum, the only thing that could save Leslie's life. "She killed my son with her neglect," he muttered; "now she can have the satisfaction of knowing that her wonderful knowledge has brought death to her lover, as well." And he smiled his hideous smile. It seemed to him almost too easy. Once in the laboratory, he went to the refrigerator and examined the serum. Then he found the tube of germs in the rack on the table. His nervous fingers, slipping, dropped the test tube containing the germs, and it broke on the edge of the table, fluttering, he wound his handkerchief hastily about the slight cut on his thumb, and emptied the vial containing the priceless serum. Then, a cunning light playing in his eyes, he filled the tube with water and replaced it. "That settles Leslie," he exclaimed. Returning to his (Continued on page 116)