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his own. Together they turned to Barnard, who read aloud:

"CHICAGO, MARCH 8: The startling disclosure was made today by Chicago detectives that associates of 'Red' Murphy, gunman, who was hanged this morning, had all but succeeded in restoring Murphy to life! The request was made and granted for the body immediately after being taken from the scaffold. The body was placed in an ambulance and whirled away. Inside the ambulance, hot blankets, pulmotor and restoratives were applied until Murphy began to breathe again. The desperate attempt was futile, however, as Murphy died a few minutes after being revived."

For at least fifteen minutes after Barnard finished not a word was spoken. Finally Kirk turned to Barnard.

"You are a doctor. What about it?"

Barnard deliberated. "Yes, it might be done if the neck was not broken by the drop. If such was the case, death would be produced by strangulation."

Gone was the boredom of the evening, and in its place was created a plan that was to write additional chapters beyond the "Finis" placed on the case of James McKay by the state. Throughout the entire night they discussed the plan—accepting and rejecting it time and time again.

There were many phases to be considered. The probability that McKay would be hanged without having his neck broken finally became the crux of the argument. Kirk suggested a plan. McFadden, as a newspaper man, would have access to the death chamber; the rope could be shortened and the knot fixing it to the scaffold could be arranged so that it would slip a bit, thereby easing the shock of the drop.

McFadden immediately protested, and refused to consider such a move. It would be torture for McKay. Barnard said:

"I could give McKay a 'shot' that would dull any pain produced."

"Jim would not stand for a hypo."

"He would not notice it, in the excitement and confusion of being bound."

Throughout the discussion of the proposed plan, the possibility of legal consequences for themselves was not considered. They were playing for the life of a friend and the ethics of the methods were of secondary importance.

By morning they had formulated and agreed upon a definite plan of procedure, and before separating they spent a few moments in anticipating the joy of the reunion, if they were successful. Although McKay had taken the life of an equally close friend, so well did they understand the conditions that they extended their sympathy rather than censure.

Day by day the details of the plan were carried out. Each was assigned a definite part of the work to do. McFadden spent all the time he dared spend at the penitentiary. He familiarized himself with the equipment of capital punishment. He studied the tying of knots; he experimented and found the best possible way to adjust a rope so that the shock of the drop would be taken up as smoothly as possible.

Nor could a more zealous medical student be found than Barnard. He sought out every possible reference on the subject, prepared emergency equipment to the last detail.

The day before the execution, McFadden and Barnard left for Canon City, Kirk remaining in Denver. That night Kirk got out McKay's suitcase and started packing it.

McKAY was the center of the solemn little group that, with precise movement, passed down the steel corridors. They entered the death chamber, and it was McKay who sought to cheer his friends.

He stepped upon the trap, and the officials bound his wrists to his thighs with wide leather straps. He laughed and joked with his friends, who could not force a laugh from their dry set lips. Then, while the hangman stood waiting with the black hood, the chaplain offered up a few words in prayer.

McFadden stepped up and bade his friend farewell. Barnard then came up and in a strained manner clapped McKay on the shoulder and said, "So long, old scout," and then stepped down, quickly concealing a small hypodermic syringe in his pocket.

Barnard and McFadden left the room and waited just outside, where they exchanged significant glances. Each knew the other had not failed in his task. A few seconds later they heard the trap drop, and for eleven excruciating minutes—an eternity—they waited.

The prison physician pronounced McKay dead and they returned. The body was cut down quickly, then turned over to Barnard and placed in a waiting ambulance, and whirled away.

Once again the experiment was being tried.

The long chance won. After a desperate effort Barnard's work was rewarded by a slight and uncertain breathing by McKay.

McFadden noticed this, and scarcely could refrain from shouting with joy, Barnard, however, quickly assured him that the results as yet were far from certain.

The body reached the mortuary and, by well-laid plans and judicious selection of undertakers, was placed on a bed rather than the marble slab of the embalmer. Barnard watched his "patient" with close attention, while McFadden hastened to telegraph Kirk, who was waiting in Denver.

The three friends were gathered about McKay when the latter regained consciousness after hours of quiet and restful sleep. McKay opened his eyes—shut them—then, with eyes wide open, noticed the effect about the way his gaze in a glassy manner about the room. His whole body quivered for a few seconds, then relaxed, and then he spoke in a hoarse and mechanical tone.

"What—" His eyes wandered about and his words became inarticulate. Finally:

"What—what has happened?"

"Steady, old man," said Barnard. "Everything is O.K. You came out fine."

Again McKay stared. "Come out? Come out of what?"

"Don't you realize—"

Barnard interrupted Kirk, and with a look warned McFadden to remain quiet.

"Never mind, old boy. Rest up a bit, and then we'll explain."

McKay was not satisfied. He asked: "Where is Jim—Jim McKay?"

"What!"

The three friends riveted their eyes on McKay, and slowly, first with Barnard, an expression of horror spread over their faces as they understood what had happened. The shock of being launched into eternity, only to be snatched back by his friends, had, as the law demanded, blotted out the life of McKay—and they had brought back William Larson!

ARMAND finished, and I turned over in my mind many questions that wanted answering.

"Is there any explanation of the transition of the personality, or soul of McKay, to that of Larson?"

"Yes," said Armand. "The brain is composed of two hemispheres, one of which receives impressions and is the seat of thinking. The other hemisphere remains thoughtless. Undoubtedly, after the normal section became somewhat paralyzed by the melancholia of those terrible nights alone in the death cell