results."

Dixon didn't mean to do it, I'm sure. But just such solemn discouragement as that was exactly what would add to the eagerness of a young enthusiast like myself.

That very night, I wrote out a letter volunteering myself as subject in the experiment and freely exonerating Dixon and Burke of any possible unpleasant consequences.

Two nights later, Dixon had his preparations made. I think he rushed things lest I lose my nerve. But I was more keen on the thing than ever. Even if things did go wrong, I saw my name in the books as a haloed martyr of science.

He had set up a simple generator whose output could be graduated between 70 and 100 volts. I lay down on a table, and he and Burke attached two rubber pads faced with copper to my temples, as the electrodes.

Dixon repeated his final instructions.

"At the slightest crook of your finger we'll cut the current, Ellis. If you feel any dangerous sensations, don't hesitate."

He called, then, "All right, Burke—the switches."

"I feel more like an executioner than a scientist," Burke growled.

The generator was already humming. Dixon fed the current so weakly at first that I could feel only a tingle in my nerves.

"It'll take more than that," I told him, grinning.

He jumped his rheostats a little. The tingling in my nerves and brain became much stronger.

I felt an odd, dizzy sensation. It got more pronounced as Dixon let me have the current in stronger and stronger jolts.

The whole laboratory seemed to dim around me, even Dixon's dark, watchful face blurring to my eyes.

For a moment, I felt panic. After all, there was something gruesome about trying temporarily to dissociate my mind from my body!

Dixon's voice came through the blur.

"All right, Ellis?" he asked.

Pride made me conquer my panic.

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