However that may have been, Hugo was an attractive and virile baby. Danner spent hours at the side of his crib speculating and watching for any sign of biological variation. But it was not until a week had passed that he was given evidence. By that time he was ready to concede the failure of his greatest experiment.

The baby bawled and presently stopped. And Mrs. Danner, who had put it to breast, suddenly called her husband. “Abednego! Come here! Hurry!”

The professor’s heart skipped its regular timing and he scrambled to the floor above. “What’s the matter?”

Mrs. Danner was sitting in a rocking-chair. Her face was as white as paper. Only in her eyes was there a spark of life. He thought she was going to faint. “What’s the matter?” he said again.

He looked at Hugo and saw nothing terrifying in the ravishing hunger which the infant showed.

“Matter! Matter! You know the matter!”

Then he knew and he realized that his wife had discovered. “I don’t. You look frightened. Shall I bring some water?”

Mrs. Danner spoke again. Her voice was icy, distant, terrible. “I came in to feed him just a minute ago. He was lying in his crib. I tried to—to hug him and he put his arms out. As God lives, I could not pull that baby to me! He was too strong, Abednego! Too strong. Too strong. I couldn’t unbend his little arms when he stiffened them. I couldn’t straighten them when he bent them. And he pushed me—harder than you could push. Harder than I could push myself. I know what it means. You have done your horrible thing to my baby. He’s just a baby, Abednego. And you’ve done your thing to him. How could you? Oh, how could you!”

Mrs. Danner rose and laid the baby gently on the chair. She stood before her husband, towering over him, raised her hand, and struck with all her force. Mr. Danner fell to one knee, and a red welt lifted on his face. She struck him again and he fell against the chair. Little Hugo was dislodged. One hand caught a rung of the chair back and he hung suspended above the floor.

“Look!” Mrs. Danner screamed.

As they looked, the baby flexed its arm and lifted itself back into the chair. It was a feat that a gymnast would have accomplished with difficulty. Danner stared, ignoring the blows, the crimson on his cheek. For once in his lifetime, he suddenly defied his wife. He pointed to the child.