BONG--BONG--BONG--BONG struck Memorial clock. It struck six; it struck twelve; it struck twenty--

BONG--BONG--BONG--BING The striking ceased, and Dr. Casey was able to complete his great work.

Appleby Hollisheimer heard the striking of the clock. With one of the flashes of genius that come to great sinners and great saints he realized simultaneously what terrible consequences it might have, and that if he could stop the hands of the clock he could stop the bell. Here was his chance to do something for Harvard.

The Hollisheimer had always been climbers, and it was with ease that Appleby crawled hand over hand over gargoyle and Cicero, smokestack and Dante, to the face of the clock. He leaped up, caught one of the hands of the clock and hung there. His weight was just enough to stay the course of time.

Finally he saw a flood of little square specks below. Flesh and sinew could hold out no longer. He dropped.

. . . A moment of silence--then the crowd realized what this misshapen form had done. The fist marshall of the class jumped forward, Come on now, fellows, a long cheer for Hollisheimer!"

On his heels came Rita, who had deserted Appleby in life, but who now threw herself on the largest piece of his corpse. Following her came a white-bearded figure, who, placing his hand on her shoulder, whispered, "Get thee to a nunnery, go."

Finally as the old Harvard cheer with nine Hollisheimer on the end rent the air, forward stepped the President of the University who threw his doctor's robe over something of what had been Appleby to signify that-the last of the Hollisheimer had attained his degree.