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diff --git a/75562-h/75562-h.htm b/75562-h/75562-h.htm new file mode 100644 index 0000000..03075fa --- /dev/null +++ b/75562-h/75562-h.htm @@ -0,0 +1,8054 @@ +<!DOCTYPE html> +<html lang="en"> +<head> + <meta charset="UTF-8"> + <title> + The Assassination Bureau, Ltd | Project Gutenberg + </title> + <link rel="icon" href="images/cover.jpg" type="image/x-cover"> + <style> /* <![CDATA[ */ + +body { + margin-left: 2.5em; + margin-right: 2.5em; +} +.x-ebookmaker body {margin: 0;} +.x-ebookmaker-drop {color: inherit;} + +h1, h2 { + text-align: center; + clear: both; + margin-top: 2.5em; + margin-bottom: 1em; + word-spacing: .2em; +} + +h1 {line-height: 1;} + +h2.chap {margin-bottom: 0;} +h2+p {margin-top: 1.5em;} +.x-ebookmaker h1, .x-ebookmaker .chapter, .x-ebookmaker .section {page-break-before: always;} +.x-ebookmaker h1.nobreak, .x-ebookmaker h2.nobreak, .x-ebookmaker .nobreak {page-break-before: avoid; padding-top: 0;} + +.transnote h2 { + margin-top: .5em; + margin-bottom: 1em; +} + +p { + text-indent: 1.75em; + margin-top: .51em; + margin-bottom: .24em; + text-align: justify; +} +.x-ebookmaker p { + margin-top: .5em; + margin-bottom: .25em; +} + +.center p, p.center {text-align: center; text-indent: 0;} + +.p2 {padding-top: 2em;} +.p4 {padding-top: 4em;} +.vspace {line-height: 1.3;} +.vspace2 {line-height: 1.6;} + +.in0 {text-indent: 0;} +.in4 {padding-left: 4em;} + +.smaller {font-size: 85%;} +.larger {font-size: 125%;} +.xxlarge {font-size: 300%;} + +.center {text-align: center;} + +.right {text-align: right; margin-right: 2em;} + +.allsmcap {font-variant: small-caps; text-transform: lowercase;} + +.bold {font-weight: bold;} + +hr { + width: 33%; + margin: 4em auto 4em auto; + clear: both; +} +.x-ebookmaker hr { + margin-top: .1em; + margin-bottom: .1em; + visibility: hidden; + color: white; + width: .01em; + display: none; +} + +.tb { + text-align: center; + padding-top: .76em; + padding-bottom: .24em; + letter-spacing: 1.5em; + margin-right: -1.5em; +} + +.x-ebookmaker .tb {letter-spacing: 1.25em; margin-right: -1.25em;} + +.pagenum { + position: absolute; + right: .25em; + text-indent: 0; + text-align: right; + font-size: 70%; + font-weight: normal; + font-variant: normal; + font-style: normal; + letter-spacing: normal; + line-height: normal; + color: #acacac; + border: .0625em solid #acacac; + background: #ffffff; + padding: .0625em .125em; +} + +.blockquot {margin: 1.5em 2em 1.5em 2em; font-size: 90%;} +.blockquot .blockquot {font-size: 100%;} +.blockquot p {text-indent: 0;} +.blockquot p.ti, .blockquot.ti p {text-indent: 1.25em;} + +p.hang {text-indent: -2.3em; padding-left: .3em;} + +.transnote { + border: .3em double gray; + font-family: sans-serif, serif; + margin-left: 5%; + margin-right: 5%; + margin-top: 4em; + margin-bottom: 2em; + padding: 1em; +} +.x-ebookmaker .transnote { + page-break-before: always; + page-break-after: always; + margin-left: 2%; + margin-right: 2%; + margin-top: 1em; + margin-bottom: 1em; + padding: .5em; +} + +.covernote {visibility: hidden; display: none;} +.x-ebookmaker .covernote {visibility: visible; display: block; text-align: justify} + +.wspace {word-spacing: .3em;} + +span.locked {white-space:nowrap;} +.pagenum br {display: none; visibility: hidden;} + + /* ]]> */ </style> +</head> + +<body> +<div style='text-align:center'>*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 75562 ***</div> + +<div class="transnote section"> +<p class="center larger">Transcriber’s Notes</p> + +<p class="covernote">New original cover art included with this eBook is granted +to the public domain. It is the original Title page, +with the blank areas colored red by Transcriber.</p> + +<p>The original book did not have a Table of Contents. The one below was +added by the Transcriber.</p> + +<p><a href="#Transcribers_Notes">Additional notes</a> will be found near the end of this ebook.</p> + +<p class="in0 in4 smaller vspace2"> +<a href="#Chapter_I"><i>Chapter I</i></a><br> +<a href="#Chapter_II"><i>Chapter II</i></a><br> +<a href="#Chapter_III"><i>Chapter III</i></a><br> +<a href="#Chapter_IV"><i>Chapter IV</i></a><br> +<a href="#Chapter_V"><i>Chapter V</i></a><br> +<a href="#Chapter_VI"><i>Chapter VI</i></a><br> +<a href="#Chapter_VII"><i>Chapter VII</i></a><br> +<a href="#Chapter_VIII"><i>Chapter VIII</i></a><br> +<a href="#Chapter_IX"><i>Chapter IX</i></a><br> +<a href="#Chapter_X"><i>Chapter X</i></a><br> +<a href="#Chapter_XI"><i>Chapter XI</i></a><br> +<a href="#Chapter_XII"><i>Chapter XII</i></a><br> +<a href="#Chapter_XIII"><i>Chapter XIII</i></a><br> +<a href="#Chapter_XIV"><i>Chapter XIV</i></a><br> +<a href="#Chapter_XV"><i>Chapter XV</i></a><br> +<a href="#Chapter_XVI"><i>Chapter XVI</i></a><br> +<a href="#Chapter_XVII"><i>Chapter XVII</i></a><br> +<a href="#Chapter_XVIII"><i>Chapter XVIII</i></a><br> +<a href="#Chapter_XIX"><i>Chapter XIX</i></a><br> +<a href="#JACK_LONDONS_NOTES_FOR">Jack London’s Notes For the Completion of the Book</a><br> +<a href="#ENDING_AS_OUTLINED_BY_CHARMIAN_LONDON">Ending As Outlined by Charmian London</a> +</p> +<div> </div> +</div> + +<div class="section"> +<h1>The Assassination Bureau, Ltd.</h1> + +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> +<div> </div> +</div> + +<div class="chapter section vspace"> +<p class="right bold"> +<span class="xxlarge">Jack<br> +London</span><br> +<br> +<i>Completed by Robert L. Fish from notes by Jack London</i><br> +<br> +<span class="xxlarge">The<br> +Assassination<br> +Bureau,<br> +Ltd.</span></p> + +<p class="p4 right">McGraw-Hill Book Company, Inc.<br> +<span class="smaller wspace">New York Toronto London</span> +</p> +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> +<div> </div> +</div> + +<div class="chapter section p4 in4"> +<p class="in0 smaller"> +The Assassination Bureau, Ltd.<br> +<br> +Copyright © 1963 by Irving Shepard<br> +All Rights Reserved. Printed in the<br> +United States of America. This book or parts<br> +thereof may not be reproduced in any form<br> +without written permission of the publishers.<br> +<br> +Library of Congress Catalog Card Number: 63-20448<br> +<br> +First Edition<br> +<br> +38655 +</p> +<div> </div> +</div> + +<div class="chapter"> +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_1">1</span></p> +<h2 class="nobreak" id="The_Assassination_Bureau_Ltd"><span class="p4 smaller">The Assassination Bureau, Ltd.</span></h2> + +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> +<div> </div> +</div> + +<div class="chapter"> +<h2 class="nobreak" id="Chapter_I"><i>Chapter I</i></h2> +</div> + +<p>He was a handsome man, with large liquid-black eyes, +an olive complexion that was laid upon a skin clear, +clean, and of surpassing smoothness of texture, and with +a mop of curly black hair that invited fondling—in +short, the kind of a man that women like to look upon, +and also, the kind of a man who is quite thoroughly aware +of this insinuative quality of his looks. He was lean-waisted, +muscular, and broad-shouldered, and about him +was a certain bold, masculine swagger that was belied by +the apprehensiveness in the glance he cast around the +room and at the retreating servant who had shown him +in. The fellow was a deaf mute—this he would have +guessed, had he not been already aware of the fact, +thanks to Lanigan’s description of an earlier visit to this +same apartment.</p> + +<p>Once the door had closed on the servant’s back, the +visitor could scarcely refrain from shivering. Yet there +was nothing in the place itself to excite such a feeling. It +was a quiet, dignified room, lined with crowded bookshelves, +with here and there an etching, and, in one place, +a map-rack. Also against the wall was a big rack +filled with railway timetables and steamship folders. +Between the windows was a large, flattop desk, on which +stood a telephone, and from which, on an extension, +swung a typewriter. Everything was in scrupulous order +and advertised a presiding genius that was the soul +of system.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_2">2</span></p> + +<p>The books attracted the waiting man, and he ranged +along the shelves, with a practiced eye skimming titles +by whole rows at a time. Nor was there anything shivery +in these solid-backed books. He noted especially +Ibsen’s Prose Dramas and Shaw’s various plays and +novels; editions de luxe of Wilde, Smollett, Fielding, +Sterne, and the <i>Arabian Nights</i>; La Fargue’s <i>Evolution +of Property</i>, <i>The Students’ Marx</i>, <i>Fabian Essays</i>, Brooks’ +<i>Economic Supremacy</i>, Dawson’s <i>Bismarck and State +Socialism</i>, Engels’ <i>Origin of the Family</i>, Conant’s <i>The +United States in the Orient</i>, and John Mitchell’s <i>Organized +Labor</i>. Apart, and in the original Russian, were +the works of Tolstoy, Gorky, Turgenev, Andreyev, Goncharov, +and Dostoyevski.</p> + +<p>The man strayed on to a library table, heaped with +orderly piles of the current reviews and quarterlies, +where, at one corner, were a dozen of the late novels. +He pulled up an easy chair, stretched out his legs, lighted +a cigarette, and glanced over these books. One, a slender, +red-bound volume, caught his eyes. On the front +cover a gaudy female rioted. He selected it, and read +the title: <i>Four Weeks: A Loud Book</i>. As he opened +it, a slight but sharp explosion occurred within its papers, +accompanied by a flash of light and a puff of smoke. On +the instant he was convulsed with terror. He fell back +in the chair and sank down, arms and legs in the air, +the book flying from his hands in about the same fashion +a man would dispense with a snake he had unwittingly +picked up. The visitor was badly shaken. His beautiful +olive skin had turned a ghastly green, while his +liquid-black eyes bulged with horror.</p> + +<p>Then it was that the door to an inner apartment opened, +and the presiding genius entered. A cold mirth was +frosted on his countenance as he surveyed the abject fright +of the other. Stooping, he picked up the book, spread it<span class="pagenum" id="Page_3">3</span> +open, and exposed the toy-work mechanism that had exploded +the paper cap.</p> + +<p>“No wonder creatures like you are compelled to come +to me,” he sneered. “You terrorists are always a puzzle +to me. Why is it that you are most fascinated by the +very thing of which you are most afraid?” He was now +gravely scornful. “Powder—that’s it. If you had exploded +that toy-pistol cap on your naked tongue it would +have caused no more than a temporary inconvenience to +your facilities of speaking and eating. Whom do you +want to kill now?”</p> + +<p>The speaker was a striking contrast to his visitor. So +blond was he that it might well be described as washed-out +blond. His eyes, veiled by the finest and most silken +of lashes that were almost like an albino’s, were the palest +of pale blue. His head, partly bald, was thinly covered +by a similar growth of fine and silky hair, almost snow-white +so fairly white it was, yet untinctured by time. The +mouth was firm and considerative, though not harsh, and +the dome of forehead, broad and lofty, spoke eloquently +of the brain behind. His English was painfully correct, +the total and colorless absence of any accent almost constituting +an accent in itself. Despite the crude practical +joke he had just perpetrated, there was little humor in +him. A grave and somber dignity, that hinted of scholarship, +characterized him; while he emanated an atmosphere +of complacency of power and seemed to suggest an +altitude of philosophic calm far beyond fake books and +toy-pistol caps. So elusive was his personality, his colorless +coloring, and his almost lineless face, that there was +no clew to his age, which might have been anywhere +between thirty and fifty—or sixty. One felt that he +was older than he looked.</p> + +<p>“You are Ivan Dragomiloff?” the visitor asked.</p> + +<p>“That is the name I am known by. It serves as well<span class="pagenum" id="Page_4">4</span> +as any other—as well as Will Hausmann serves you. +That is the name you were admitted under. I know you. +You are secretary of the Caroline Warfield group. I +have had dealings with it before. Lanigan represented +you, I believe.”</p> + +<p>He paused, placed a black skullcap on his thin-thatched +head, and sat down.</p> + +<p>“No complaints, I hope,” he added coldly.</p> + +<p>“Oh, no, not at all,” Hausmann hastened to assure +him. “That other affair was entirely satisfactory. The +only reason we had not been to you again was that we +could not afford it. But now we want McDuffy, chief +of <span class="locked">police—”</span></p> + +<p>“Yes, I know him,” the other interrupted.</p> + +<p>“He has been a brute, a beast,” Hausmann hurried on +with raising indignation. “He has martyred our cause +again and again, deflowered our group of its choicest +spirits. Despite the warnings we gave him, he deported +Tawney, Cicerole, and Gluck. He has broken up our +meetings repeatedly. His officers have clubbed and +beaten us like cattle. It is due to him that four of our +martyred brothers and sisters are now languishing in +prison cells.”</p> + +<p>While he went on with the recital of grievances, Dragomiloff +nodded his head gravely, as if keeping a running +account.</p> + +<p>“There is old Sanger, as pure and lofty a soul as ever +breathed the polluted air of civilization, seventy-two years +old, a patriarch, broken in health, dying inch by inch and +serving out his ten years in Sing Sing in this land of the +free. And for what?” he cried excitedly. Then his +voice sank to hopeless emptiness as he feebly answered +his own question. “For nothing.”</p> + +<p>“These hounds of the law must be taught the red lesson +again. They cannot continue always to ill-treat us with<span class="pagenum" id="Page_5">5</span> +impunity. McDuffy’s officers gave perjured testimony +on the witness stand. This we know. He has lived too +long. The time has come. And he should have been +dead long ere this, only we could not raise the money. +But when we decided that assassination was cheaper than +lawyer fees, we left our poor comrades to go unattended +to their prison cells and accumulated the fund more +quickly.”</p> + +<p>“You know it is our rule never to fill an order until we +are satisfied that it is socially justifiable,” Dragomiloff observed +quietly.</p> + +<p>“Surely.” Hausmann attempted indignantly to interrupt.</p> + +<p>“But in this case,” Dragomiloff went on calmly and +judicially, “there is little doubt but what your cause is +just. The death of McDuffy would appear socially expedient +and right. I know him and his deeds. I can +assure you that on investigation I believe we are practically +certain so to conclude. And now, the money.”</p> + +<p>“But if you do not find the death of McDuffy socially +right?”</p> + +<p>“The money will be returned to you, less ten percent +to cover the cost of investigation. It is our custom.”</p> + +<p>Hausmann pulled a fat wallet from his pocket, and then +hesitated.</p> + +<p>“Is full payment necessary?”</p> + +<p>“Surely you know our terms.” There was mild reproof +in Dragomiloffs voice.</p> + +<p>“But I thought, I hoped—you know yourself we +anarchists are poor people.”</p> + +<p>“And that is why I make you so cheap a rate. Ten +thousand dollars is not too much for the killing of the +chief of police of a great city. Believe me, it barely pays +expenses. Private persons are charged much more, and +merely for private persons at that. Were you a millionaire,<span class="pagenum" id="Page_6">6</span> +instead of a poor struggling group, I should charge +you fifty thousand at the very least for McDuffy. Besides, +I am not entirely in this for my health.”</p> + +<p>“Heavens! What would you charge for a king!” the +other cried.</p> + +<p>“That depends. A king, say of England, would cost +half a million. Little second- and third-rate kings come +anywhere between seventy-five and a hundred thousand +dollars.”</p> + +<p>“I had no idea they came so high,” Hausmann muttered.</p> + +<p>“That is why so few are killed. Then, too, you forget +the heavy expenses of so perfect an organization as I +have built up. Our mere traveling expenses are far +larger than you imagine. My agents are numerous, +and you don’t think for a moment that they take their +lives in their hands and kill for a song. And remember, +these things we accomplish without any peril whatsoever +to our clients. If you feel that Chief McDuffy’s life is +dear at ten thousand, let me ask if you rate your own at +any less. Besides, you anarchists are poor operators. +Whenever you try your hand you bungle it or get caught. +Furthermore, you always insist on dynamite or infernal +machines, which are extremely <span class="locked">hazardous—”</span></p> + +<p>“It is necessary that our executions be sensational and +spectacular,” Hausmann explained.</p> + +<p>The Chief of the Assassination Bureau nodded his +head.</p> + +<p>“Yes, I understand. But that is not the point. It is +such a stupid, gross way of killing that it is, as I said, +extremely hazardous for our agents. Now, if your group +will permit me to use, say, poison, I’ll throw off ten percent; +if an air-rifle, twenty-five percent.”</p> + +<p>“Impossible!” cried the anarchist. “It will not serve +our end. Our killings must be red.”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_7">7</span></p> + +<p>“In which case I can grant you no reduction. You +are an American, are you not, Mr. Hausmann?”</p> + +<p>“Yes; and American born—over in St. Joseph, Michigan.”</p> + +<p>“Why don’t you kill McDuffy yourself and save your +group the money?”</p> + +<p>The anarchist blanched.</p> + +<p>“No, no. Your service is too, too excellent, Mr. +Dragomiloff. Also, I have a—er—a temperamental +diffidence about the taking of life or the shedding of blood—that +is, you know, personally. It is repulsive to me. +Theoretically I may know a killing to be just, but, actually, +I cannot bring myself to do it. I—I simply can’t, +that is all. I can’t help it. I could not with my own +hand harm a fly.”</p> + +<p>“Yet you belong to a violent group.”</p> + +<p>“I know it. My reason compels me to belong. I +could not be satisfied to belong with the philosophic, non-resistant +Tolstoians. I do not believe in turning the other +cheek, as do those in the Martha Brown group, for instance. +If I am struck, I must strike <span class="locked">back—”</span></p> + +<p>“Even if by proxy,” Dragomiloff interrupted dryly.</p> + +<p>Hausmann bowed.</p> + +<p>“By proxy. If the flesh is weak, there is no other way. +Here is the money.”</p> + +<p>As Dragomiloff counted it, Hausmann made a final +effort for a bargain.</p> + +<p>“Ten thousand dollars. You will find it correct. Take +it, and remember that it represents devotion and sacrifice +on the parts of many scores of comrades who could ill +afford the heavy contributions we demand. Couldn’t +you—er—couldn’t you throw in Inspector Morgan +for full measure? He is another foul-hearted beast.”</p> + +<p>Dragomiloff shook his head.</p> + +<p>“No; it can’t be done. Your group already enjoys<span class="pagenum" id="Page_8">8</span> +the biggest cut-rate we have ever accorded.”</p> + +<p>“A bomb, you know,” the other urged. “You might +get both of them with the same bomb.”</p> + +<p>“Which we shall be very careful not to do. Of course, +we shall have to investigate Chief McDuffy. We demand +a moral sanction for all our transactions. If we +find that his death is not socially <span class="locked">justifiable—”</span></p> + +<p>“What becomes of the ten thousand?” Hausmann +broke in anxiously.</p> + +<p>“It is returned to you less ten percent for running expenses.”</p> + +<p>“And if you fail to kill him?”</p> + +<p>“If, at the end of a year, we have failed, the money +is returned to you, plus five percent interest on the same.”</p> + +<p>Dragomiloff, indicating that the interview was at an +end, pressed a call-button and stood up. His example +was followed by Hausmann, who took advantage of the +delay in the servant’s coming to ask him another question.</p> + +<p>“But suppose you should die?—an accident, sickness, +anything. I have no receipt for the money. It would +be lost.”</p> + +<p>“All that is arranged. The head of my Chicago +branch would immediately take charge, and would conduct +everything until such time as the head of the San +Francisco branch could arrive. An instance of that occurred +only last year. You remember Burgess?”</p> + +<p>“Which Burgess?”</p> + +<p>“The railroad king. One of our men covered that, +made the whole transaction and received the payment in +advance, as usual. Of course, my sanction was obtained. +And then two things happened. Burgess was +killed in a railroad accident, and our man died of pneumonia. +Nevertheless, the money was returned. I saw +to it personally, though it was not recoverable by law. +Our long success shows our honorable dealing with our<span class="pagenum" id="Page_9">9</span> +clients. Believe me, operating as we do outside the law, +anything less than the strictest honesty would be fatal to +us. Now concerning <span class="locked">McDuffy—”</span></p> + +<p>At this moment the servant entered, and Hausmann +made a warning gesture for silence. Dragomiloff smiled.</p> + +<p>“Can’t hear a word,” he said.</p> + +<p>“But you rang for him just now. And, by Jove, he +answered my ring at the door.”</p> + +<p>“A ring for him is a flash. Instead of a bell, an electric +light is turned on. He has never heard a sound in his +life. As long as he does not see your lips, he cannot +understand what you say. And now, about McDuffy. +Have you thought well about removing him? Remember, +with us, an order once given is as good as accomplished. +We cannot carry on our business otherwise. +We have our rules, you know. Once the order goes forth +it can never be withdrawn. Are you satisfied?”</p> + +<p>“Quite.” Hausmann paused at the door. “When +may we hear news of—of activity?”</p> + +<p>Dragomiloff considered a moment.</p> + +<p>“Within a week. The investigation, in this case, is +only formal. The operation itself is very simple. I have +my men on the spot. Good day.”</p> +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> + +<div class="chapter"> +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_10">10</span></p> + +<h2 class="nobreak" id="Chapter_II"><i>Chapter II</i></h2> +</div> + +<p>One afternoon, a week later, an electric cab waited +in front of the great Russian importing house of S. Constantine +& Co. It was three o’clock when Sergius Constantine +himself emerged from the private office and was +accompanied to the cab by the manager, to whom he +was still giving instructions. Had Hausmann or Lanigan +watched him enter the cab they would have recognized +him immediately, but not by the name of Sergius +Constantine. Had they been asked, and had they answered, +they would have named him Ivan Dragomiloff.</p> + +<p>For Ivan Dragomiloff it was who drove the cab south +and crossed over into the teeming East Side. He +stopped, once, to buy a paper from a gamin who was +screaming “Extra!” Nor did he start again until he had +read the headlines and brief text announcing another +anarchist outrage in a neighboring city and the death of +Chief McDuffy. As he laid the paper beside him and +started on, there was an expression of calm pride on +Constantine’s face. The organization which he had built +up worked, and worked with its customary smoothness. +The investigation—in this case almost perfunctory—had +been made, the order sent forth, and McDuffy was +dead. He smiled slightly as he drew up before a modern +apartment house which was placed on the edge of +one of the most noisome East Side slums. The smile was<span class="pagenum" id="Page_11">11</span> +at thought of the rejoicing there would be in the Caroline +Warfield group—the terrorists who had not the courage +to slay.</p> + +<p>An elevator took Constantine to the top floor, and a +pushbutton caused the door to be opened for him by a +young woman who threw her arms around his neck, kissed +him, and showered him with Russian diminutives of affection, +and whom, in turn, he called Grunya.</p> + +<p>They were very comfortable rooms into which he was +taken—and remarkably comfortable and tasteful, even +for a model apartment house in the East Side. Chastely +simple, culture and wealth spoke in the furnishing and +decoration. There were many shelves of books, a table +littered with magazines, while a parlor grand filled the far +end of the room. Grunya was a robust Russian blonde, +but with all the color that her caller’s blondness lacked.</p> + +<p>“You should have telephoned,” she chided, in English +that was as without accent as his own. “I might have +been out. You are so irregular I never know when to +expect you.”</p> + +<p>Dropping the afternoon paper beside him, he lolled +back among the cushions of the capacious window-seat.</p> + +<p>“Now Grunya, dear, you mustn’t begin by scolding,” +he said, looking at her with beaming fondness. “I’m not +one of your submerged-tenth kindergarteners, nor am I +going to let you order my actions, yea, even to the extent +of being told when to wash my face or blow my nose. +I came down on the chance of finding you in, but principally +for the purpose of trying out my new cab. Will +you come for a little run around?”</p> + +<p>She shook her head.</p> + +<p>“Not this afternoon. I expect a visitor at four.”</p> + +<p>“I’ll make a note of it.” He looked at his watch. +“Also, I came to learn if you would come home the end<span class="pagenum" id="Page_12">12</span> +of the week. Edge Moor is lonely without either of us.”</p> + +<p>“I was out three days ago,” she pouted. “Grosset said +you hadn’t been there for a month.”</p> + +<p>“Too busy. But I’m going to loaf for a week now and +read up. By the way, why was it necessary for Grosset +to tell you I hadn’t been there in a month, unless for the +fact that you hadn’t been there?”</p> + +<p>“Busy, you inquisitor, busy, just like you.” She bubbled +with laughter, and, reaching over, caressed his hand.</p> + +<p>“Will you come?”</p> + +<p>“It’s only Monday, now,” she considered. “Yes; if—” +She paused roguishly. “If I can bring a friend +for the week end. You’ll like him, I know.”</p> + +<p>“Oh, ho; it’s a <em>him</em>, is it? One of your long-haired +socialists, I suppose.”</p> + +<p>“No; a short-haired one. But you ought to know +better, Uncle, dear, than to be repeating those comic-supplement +jokes. I never saw a long-haired socialist +in my life. Did you?”</p> + +<p>“No; but I’ve seen them drink beer,” he announced +with conviction.</p> + +<p>“Now you shall be punished.” She picked up a cushion +and advanced upon him menacingly. “As my kindergarteners +say, ‘I’m going to knock your block off.’—There! +And there! And there!”</p> + +<p>“Grunya! I protest!” he grunted and panted between +blows. “It is unbecoming. It is disrespectful, to +treat your mother’s brother in such fashion. I’m getting +<span class="locked">old—”</span></p> + +<p>“Pouf!” the lively Grunya shut him off, discarding the +cushion. She picked up his hand and looked at the +fingers. “To think I’ve seen those fingers tear a pack of +cards in two and bend silver coins.”</p> + +<p>“They are past all that now. They ... are quite +feeble.”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_13">13</span></p> + +<p>He let the members in question rest limply and flaccidly +in her hand, and aroused her indignation again. +She placed her hand on his biceps.</p> + +<p>“Tense it,” she commanded.</p> + +<p>“I—I can’t,” he faltered. “—Oh! Ouch! There, +that’s the best I can do.” A very weak effort indeed he +made of it. “I’ve gone soft, you see—the breakdown +of tissue due to advancing <span class="locked">senility—”</span></p> + +<p>“Tense it!” she cried, this time with a stamp of her foot.</p> + +<p>Constantine surrendered and obeyed, and as the biceps +swelled under her hand, a glow of admiration appeared +in her face.</p> + +<p>“Like iron,” she murmured, “only it is living iron. It +is wonderful. You are cruelly strong. I should die if +you ever put the weight of your strength on me.”</p> + +<p>“You will remember,” he answered, “and place it to +my credit, that when you were a little thing, even when +you were very naughty, I never spanked you.”</p> + +<p>“Ah, Uncle, but was not that because you had moral +convictions against spanking?”</p> + +<p>“True; but if ever those convictions were shaken, it +was by you, and often enough when you were anywhere +between three and six. Grunya, dear, I don’t want to +hurt your feelings, but truth compels me to say that at +that period you were a barbarian, a savage, a cave-child, +a jungle beast, a—a regular little devil, a she-wolf of a +cub without morality or manners, <span class="locked">a—”</span></p> + +<p>But a cushion, raised and threatening, caused him to +desist and to throw up his arms in arches of protection +to his head.</p> + +<p>“’Ware!” he cried. “By your present actions the only +difference I can note is that you are a full-grown cub. +Twenty-two, eh? And feeling your strength—beginning +to take it out on me. But it is not too late. The +next time you attempt to trounce me, I <em>will</em> give you a<span class="pagenum" id="Page_14">14</span> +spanking, even if you are a young lady, a fat young lady.”</p> + +<p>“Oh, you brute! I’m not!” She thrust out her arm. +“Look at that. Feel it. That’s muscle. I weigh one +hundred and twenty-eight. Will you take it back?”</p> + +<p>Again the cushion rose and fell upon him, and it was +in the midst of struggling to defend himself, laughing and +grunting, dodging and guarding with his arms, that a +maid entered with a samovar and Grunya desisted in order +to serve tea.</p> + +<p>“One of your kindergarteners?” he queried, as the +maid left the room.</p> + +<p>Grunya nodded.</p> + +<p>“She looks quite respectable,” he commented. “Her +face is actually clean.”</p> + +<p>“I refuse to let you make me excited over my settlement +work,” she answered, with a smile and caress, as she +passed him his tea. “I have been working out my individual +evolution, that is all. You don’t believe now what +you did at twenty.”</p> + +<p>Constantine shook his head.</p> + +<p>“Perhaps I am only a dreamer,” he added wistfully.</p> + +<p>“You have read and studied, and yet you have done +nothing for social betterment. You have never raised +your hand.”</p> + +<p>“I have never raised my hand,” he echoed sadly, and, +at the same moment, his glance falling on the headlines +of the newspaper announcing McDuffy’s death, he found +himself forced to suppress the grin that writhed at his lips.</p> + +<p>“It’s the Russian character,” Grunya cried. “—Study, +microscopic inspection and introspection, everything but +deeds and action. But I—” Her young voice lifted +triumphantly. “I am of the new generation, the first +American <span class="locked">generation—”</span></p> + +<p>“You were Russian born,” he interpolated dryly.</p> + +<p>“But American bred. I was only a babe. I have<span class="pagenum" id="Page_15">15</span> +known no other land but this land of action. And yet, +Uncle Sergius, you could have been such a power, if you’d +only let business alone.”</p> + +<p>“Look at all that you do down here,” he answered. +“Don’t forget, it is my business that enables you to perform +your works. You see, I do good by....” He +hesitated, and remembered Hausmann, the gentle-spirited +terrorist. “I do good by proxy. That’s it. You are +my proxy.”</p> + +<p>“I know it, and it’s horrid of me to say such things,” +she cried generously. “You’ve spoiled me. I never +knew my father, so it is no treason for me to say I’m +glad it was you that took my father’s place. My father—no +father—could have been so—so colossally kind.”</p> + +<p>And, instead of cushions, it was kisses this time she +lavished on the colorless, thin-thatched blond gentleman +with iron muscles who lolled on the window-seat.</p> + +<p>“What is becoming of your anarchism?” he queried +slyly, chiefly for the purpose of covering up the modest +confusion and happiness her words had caused. “It +looked for a while, several years ago, as if you were going +to become a full-fledged Red, breathing death and destruction +to all upholders of the social order.”</p> + +<p>“I—I did have leanings that way,” she confessed reluctantly.</p> + +<p>“Leanings!” he shouted. “You worried the life out +of me trying to persuade me to give up my business and +devote myself to the cause of humanity. And you +spelled ‘cause’ all in capitals, if you will remember. +Then you came down to this slum work—making terms +with the enemy, in fact—patching up the poor wrecks +of the system you <span class="locked">despised—”</span></p> + +<p>She raised a hand in protest.</p> + +<p>“What else would you call it?” he demanded. “Your +boys’ clubs, your girls’ clubs, your little mothers’ clubs.<span class="pagenum" id="Page_16">16</span> +Why, that day nursery you established for women workers! +It only meant, by taking care of the children during +work hours, that you more thoroughly enabled the employers +to sweat the mothers.”</p> + +<p>“But I’ve outgrown the day-nursery scheme, Uncle; +you know that.”</p> + +<p>Constantine nodded his head.</p> + +<p>“And a few other things. You’re getting real conservative—er, +sort of socialistic. Not of such stuff are +revolutionists made.”</p> + +<p>“I’m not so revolutionary, Uncle, dear. I’m growing +up. Social development is slow and painful. There are +no short cuts. Every step must be worked out. Oh, +I’m still a philosophic anarchist. Every intelligent +socialist is. But it seems more clear to me every day +that the ideal freedom of a state of anarchy can only be +obtained by going through the intervening stage of +socialism.”</p> + +<p>“What is his name?” Constantine asked abruptly.</p> + +<p>“Who?—What?” A warm flush of maiden blood +rose in her cheeks.</p> + +<p>Constantine quietly sipped his tea and waited.</p> + +<p>Grunya recovered herself and looked at him earnestly +for a moment.</p> + +<p>“I’ll tell you,” she said, “on Saturday night, at Edge +Moor. He—he is the short-haired one.”</p> + +<p>“The guest you are to bring?”</p> + +<p>She nodded.</p> + +<p>“I’ll tell you no more till then.”</p> + +<p>“Do you...?” he asked.</p> + +<p>“I ... I think so,” she faltered.</p> + +<p>“Has he spoken?”</p> + +<p>“Yes ... and no. He has such a way of taking things +for granted. You wait until you meet him. You’ll love +him, Uncle Sergius, I know you will. And you’ll respect<span class="pagenum" id="Page_17">17</span> +his mind, too. He’s ... he’s my visitor at four. Wait +and meet him now. There’s a dear, do, please.”</p> + +<p>But Uncle Sergius Constantine, alias Ivan Dragomiloff, +looked at his watch and quickly stood up.</p> + +<p>“No; bring him to Edge Moor Saturday, Grunya, and +I’ll do my best to like him. And I’ll have more opportunity +then than now. I’m going to loaf for a week. If +it is as serious as it seems, have him stop the week.”</p> + +<p>“He’s so busy,” was her answer. “It was all I could +do to persuade him for the week end.”</p> + +<p>“Business?”</p> + +<p>“In a way. But not real business. He’s not in business. +He’s rich, you know. Social-betterment business +would best describe what keeps him busy. But you’ll +admire his mind, Uncle, and respect it, too.”</p> + +<p>“I hope so ... for your sake, dear,” were Constantine’s +last words, as they parted in an embrace at the door.</p> +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> + +<div class="chapter"> +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_18">18</span></p> + +<h2 class="nobreak" id="Chapter_III"><i>Chapter III</i></h2> +</div> + +<p>It was a very demure young woman who received +Winter Hall a few minutes after her uncle’s departure. +Grunya was intensely serious as she served him tea and +chatted with him—if chat it can be called, when the +subject matter ranged from Gorky’s last book and the +latest news of the Russian Revolution to Hull House and +the shirtwaist-makers’ strike.</p> + +<p>Winter Hall shook his head forbiddingly at her reconstructed +ameliorative plans.</p> + +<p>“Take Hull House,” he said. “It was a point of illumination +in the slum wilderness of Chicago. It is still a +point of illumination and no more. The slum wilderness +has grown, vastly grown. There is a far greater +totality of vice and misery and degradation in Chicago +today than was there when Hull House was founded. +Then Hull House has failed, as have all the other ameliorative +devices. You can’t save a leaky boat with a +bailer that throws out less water than rushes in.”</p> + +<p>“I know, I know,” Grunya murmured sadly.</p> + +<p>“Take the matter of inside rooms,” Hall went on. “In +New York City, at the close of the Civil War, there were +sixty thousand inside rooms. Since then inside rooms +have been continually crusaded against. Men, many of +them, have devoted their lives to that very fight. Public-spirited +citizens by thousands and tens of thousands have +contributed their money and their approval. Whole<span class="pagenum" id="Page_19">19</span> +blocks have been torn down and replaced by parks and +playgrounds. It has been a great and terrible fight. +And what is the result? Today, in the year 1911, there +are over three hundred thousand inside rooms in New +York City.”</p> + +<p>He shrugged his shoulders and sipped his tea.</p> + +<p>“More and more do you make me see two things,” +Grunya confessed. “First, that liberty, unrestricted by +man-made law, cannot be gained except by evolution +through a stage of excessive man-made law that will well-nigh +reduce us all to automatons—the socialistic stage, +of course. But I, for one, would never care to live in the +socialist state. It would be maddening.”</p> + +<p>“You prefer the splendid, wild, cruel beauty of our +present commercial individualism?” he asked quietly.</p> + +<p>“Almost I do. Almost I do. But the socialist state +must come. I know that, because of the second thing I +so clearly see, and that is the failure of amelioration to +ameliorate.” She broke off abruptly, favored him with +a dazzling, cheerful smile, and announced, “But why +should we be serious with the hot weather coming on? +Why don’t you leave town for a breath of air?”</p> + +<p>“Why don’t you?” he countered.</p> + +<p>“Too busy.”</p> + +<p>“Same here.” He paused, and his face seemed suddenly +to become harsh and grim, as if reflecting some +stern inner thought. “In fact, I have never been busier +in my life, and never so near accomplishing something +big.”</p> + +<p>“But you will run up for the week end and meet my +uncle?” she demanded impulsively. “He was here just +a few minutes ago. He wants to make it a—a sort of +house party, just the three of us, and suggests the week.”</p> + +<p>He shook his head reluctantly.</p> + +<p>“I’d like to, and I’ll run up, but I can’t stay a whole<span class="pagenum" id="Page_20">20</span> +week. This affair of mine is most important. I have +learned only today what I have been months in seeking.”</p> + +<p>And while he talked, she studied his face as only a +woman in love can study a man’s face. She knew every +minutest detail of Winter Hall’s face, from the inverted +arch of the joined eyebrows to the pictured corners of +the lips, from the firm unclefted chin to the last least +crinkle of the ear. Being a man, even if he were in love, +not so did Hall know Grunya’s face. He loved her, but +love did not open his eyes to microscopic details. Had +he been called upon suddenly to describe her out of the +registered impressions of his consciousness, he could +have done so only in general terms, such as vivacious, +plastic, delicate coloring, low forehead, hair always becoming, +eyes that smiled and glowed even as her cheeks +did, a sympathetic and adorable mouth, and a voice the +viols of which were wonderful and indescribable. He +had also impressions of cleanness and wholesomeness, +noble seriousness, facile wit, and brilliant intellect.</p> + +<p>What Grunya saw was a well-built man of thirty-two, +with the brow of a thinker and all the facial insignia of +a doer. He, too, was blue-eyed and blond, in the +bronzed American way of those that live much in the +sun. He smiled much, and, when he laughed, laughed +heartily. Yet often, in repose, a certain sternness, almost +brutal, was manifest in his face. Grunya, who loved +strength and who was appalled by brutality, was sometimes +troubled by fluttering divinations of this other side +of his character.</p> + +<p>Winter Hall was a rather unusual product of the times. +In spite of the easy ways of wealth in which he had spent +his childhood, and of the comfortable fortune inherited +from his father and added to by two spinster aunts, he +had early devoted himself to the cause of humanity. At +college he had specialized in economics and sociology,<span class="pagenum" id="Page_21">21</span> +and had been looked upon as somewhat of a crank by +his less serious fellow students. Out of college, he had +backed Riis, both with money and personal effort, in the +New York crusade. Much time and labor spent in a +social settlement had left him dissatisfied. He was always +in search of the thing behind the thing, of the cause +that was really the cause. Thus, he had studied politics, +and, later, pursued graft from New York City to Albany +and back again, and studied it, too, in the capital of his +country.</p> + +<p>After several years, apparently futile, he spent a few +months in a university settlement that was in reality a +hotbed of radicalism, and resolved to begin his studies +from the very bottom. A year he spent as a casual +laborer wandering over the country, and for another year +he wandered as a vagabond, the companion of tramps +and yegg men. For two years, in Chicago, he was a +professional charity worker, toiling long hours and drawing +down a salary of fifty dollars a month. And out of +it all, he had developed into a socialist—a “millionaire +socialist,” as he was labeled by the press.</p> + +<p>He traveled much, and investigated always, studying +affairs at first hand. There was never a strike of importance +that did not see him among the first on the ground. +He attended all the national and international conventions +of organized labor, and spent a year in Russia during +the impending crisis of the 1905 Revolution. Many +articles of his had appeared in the heavier magazines, +and he was the author of several books, all well written, +deep, thoughtful, and, for a socialist, conservative.</p> + +<p>And this was the man with whom Grunya Constantine +chatted and drank tea in the window-seat of her East +Side apartment.</p> + +<p>“But it is not necessary for you to keep yourself +mewed up all the time in this wretched, stifling city,” she<span class="pagenum" id="Page_22">22</span> +was saying. “In your case I can’t imagine what imperatively +compels <span class="locked">you—”</span></p> + +<p>But she did not finish the sentence, for at that moment +she discovered that Hall was no longer listening to her. +His glance had chanced to rest on the afternoon paper +lying on the seat. Entirely oblivious of her existence, he +had picked up the paper and begun to read.</p> + +<p>Grunya sulked prettily, but he took no notice of her.</p> + +<p>“It’s very nice of you, I ... I must say,” she broke out, +finally attracting his attention. “Reading a newspaper +while I am talking to you.”</p> + +<p>He turned the sheet so that she could see the headline +of McDuffy’s assassination. She looked up at him with +incomprehension.</p> + +<p>“I beg your pardon, Grunya, but when I saw that, I +forgot everything.” He tapped his forefinger on the +headline. “That is why I am so busy. That is why I +remain in New York. That is why I can allow myself +no more than a week end with you, and you know how +dearly I would love to have the whole week.”</p> + +<p>“But I do not understand,” she faltered. “Because +the anarchists have blown up a chief of police in another +city ... I ... I don’t understand.”</p> + +<p>“I’ll tell you. For two years I had my suspicions, then +they became a certainty, and for months now I have +steadily devoted myself to running down what I believe +to be the most terrible organization for assassination +that has ever flourished in the United States, or anywhere +else. In fact, I am almost certain that the organization +is international.</p> + +<p>“Do you remember when John Mossman committed +suicide by leaping from the seventh story of the Fidelity +Building? He was my friend, as well as my father’s +friend before me. There was no reason for him to kill<span class="pagenum" id="Page_23">23</span> +himself. The Fidelity Trust Corporation was flourishing. +So were all his other interests. His home life was +unusually happy. His health was prodigiously good. +There was nothing on his mind. Yet the stupid police +called it suicide. There was some talk about its being +tri-facial neuralgia—incurable, unescapable, unendurable. +When men get that they do commit suicide. But +he did not have it. We lunched together the day of his +death. I know he did not have it, and I made a point +of verifying the fact by interviewing his physician. It +was theory only, and it was poppycock. He never killed +himself, never leaped from the seventh story of the +Fidelity Building. Then who killed him? And why? +Somebody threw him from the seventh story. Who? +Why?</p> + +<p>“It is likely that the affair would have been dismissed +from my mind as an insoluble mystery, had not Governor +Northampton been killed by an air-rifle just three days +later. You remember?—on a city street, from any one +of a thousand windows. They never got a clue. I +wondered casually about these two murders, and from +then on, grew keenly alive to anything unusual in the +daily list of homicides in the whole country.</p> + +<p>“Oh, I shall not give you the whole list, but just a few. +There was Borff, the organized labor grafter of Sannington. +He had controlled that city for years. Graft +prosecution after graft prosecution failed to reach him. +When they settled his estate they found him possessed of +half a dozen millions. They settled his estate just after +he had reached out and laid hands on the whole political +machinery of the state. It was just at the height of his +power and his corruption when he was struck down.</p> + +<p>“And there were others—Chief of Police Little; +Welchorst, the big promoter; Blankhurst, the Cotton<span class="pagenum" id="Page_24">24</span> +King; Inspector Satcherly, found floating in the East +River, and so on, and so on. The perpetrators were never +discovered. Then there were the society murders—Charley +Atwater, killed on that last hunting trip of his; +Mrs. Langthorne-Haywards; Mrs. Hastings-Reynolds; old +Van Auston—oh, a long list indeed.</p> + +<p>“All of which convinced me that a strong organization +of some sort was at work. That it was no mere Black +Hand affair, I was certain. The murders were not confined +to any nationality nor to any stratum of society. +My first thought was of the anarchists. Forgive me, +Grunya—” His hand flashed out to hers and retained +it warmly. “I had heard much talk of you, and that +you were in close touch with the violent groups. I knew +that you spent much money, and I was suspicious. And +at any rate, you could put me in closer touch with the +anarchists. I came suspecting you, and I remained to +love you. I found you the gentlest of anarchists and a +very half-hearted one at that. You were already started +in your settlement work down <span class="locked">here—”</span></p> + +<p>“And you remained to dissatisfy me with that, too,” +she laughed, at the same time lifting the hand that held +hers and resting her cheek against it. “But go on. I’m +all excited.”</p> + +<p>“I did get in close with the anarchists, and the more I +studied them the more confident I became that they were +incapable. They were so unpractical. They dreamed +dreams and spun theories and raged against police persecution, +and that was all. They never got anywhere. +They never did anything but get themselves in trouble—I +am speaking of the violent groups, of course. As for +the Tolstoians and the Kropotkinians, they were no more +than mild academic philosophers. They couldn’t harm +a fly, and their violent cousins couldn’t.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_25">25</span></p> + +<p>“You see, the assassinations have been of all sorts. +Had they been political alone, or social, they might have +been due to some hopelessly secret society. But they +were commercial and society as well. Therefore, I +concluded, the world must in some way have access to +this organization. But how? I assumed the hypothesis +that there was some man I wanted killed. And there I +stuck. I did not have the address of the firm that would +perform that task for me. Here was the flaw in my reasoning, +namely, the hypothesis itself. I really did not +want to kill any man.</p> + +<p>“But this flaw dawned on me afterwards, when Coburn, +at the Federal Club, told half a dozen of us of an adventure +he had just had this afternoon. To him it was +merely a curious incident, but I caught at once the gleam +of light in it. He was crossing Fifth Avenue, downtown, +on foot, when a man, dressed like a mechanician, dismounted +alongside of him from a motorcycle and spoke +to him. In a few words, the fellow told him that if there +were anyone he wanted put out of the world it could be +attended to with safety and dispatch. About that time +Coburn threatened to punch the fellow’s head, and he +promptly jumped on his motorcycle and made off.</p> + +<p>“Now here’s the point. Coburn was in deep trouble. +He had recently been double-crossed (if you know what +that means) by Mattison, his partner, to the tune of a +tremendous sum. In addition, Mattison had cleared out +for Europe with Coburn’s wife. Do you see? First, +Coburn did have, or might be supposed to have, or ought +to have, a desire for vengeance against Mattison. And +secondly, thanks to the newspapers, the affair was public +property.”</p> + +<p>“I see!” Grunya cried, with glowing eyes. “There +was the flaw in your hypothesis. Since you could not<span class="pagenum" id="Page_26">26</span> +make public your hypothetical desire to kill a man, the +organization, naturally, could make no overtures to you +about it.”</p> + +<p>“Correct. But I was no forwarder. Or yet, in a way, +I was. I saw now how the world got access to the organization +and its service. From then on I studied the mysterious +and prominent murders with this in mind, and I +found, so far as the society ones were concerned, that +they were practically always preceded by sensational +public exploitation of scandal. The commercial murders—well, +the shady and unfair transactions of a fair proportion +of the big businessmen are always leaking out, +even though they do not get into print. When Hawthorn +was found mysteriously dead on his yacht, the gossip +of his underhand dealings in the fight against the +Combine had been in the clubs for weeks. You may +not remember them, but in their day the Atwater-Jones +scandal and the Langthorne-Haywards scandal were most +sensationally featured by the newspapers.</p> + +<p>“So I became certain that this murder organization +must approach persons high in political, business, and +social life. And I was also certain that its overtures were +not always rebuffed as in the case of Coburn. I looked +about me and wondered what ones of the very men I met +in the clubs or at directors’ meetings had patronized this +firm of men-killers. That I must be acquainted with +such men I had no doubt, but which ones were they? +And imagine my asking them to give me the address of +the firm which they had employed to wipe out their +enemies.</p> + +<p>“But at last, and only now, have I got the direct clue. +I kept close eye on all my friends who were high in the +world. When any one of them was afflicted by a great +trouble, I attached myself to him. For a time this was +fruitless, though there was one who must have availed<span class="pagenum" id="Page_27">27</span> +himself of the services of the organization, for, within six +months, the man who had been the cause of his trouble +was dead. Suicide, the police said.</p> + +<p>“And then my chance came. You know of the furor +of a few years ago caused by the marriage of Gladys Van +Martin with Baron Portos de Moigne. It was one of +those unfortunate international marriages. He was a +brute. He has robbed her and divorced her. The details +of his conduct have only just come out, and they are +incredibly horrible. He has even beaten her so badly that +the physicians despaired of her life, for a time, and, later, +of her reason. And by French law he has possessed himself +of their children—two boys.</p> + +<p>“Her brother, Percy Van Martin, and I were classmates +at college. I promptly made it a point to get in close +with him. We’ve seen a good deal of each other the +last several weeks. Only the other day the thing I was +waiting for happened, and he told me of it. The organization +had approached him. Unlike Coburn, he did not +drive the man away, but heard him out. If Van Martin +cared to go further in the matter, he was to insert the +single word <span class="allsmcap">MESOPOTAMIA</span> in the personal column of the +<i>Herald</i>. I quickly persuaded him to let me take hold of +the affair. I inserted <span class="allsmcap">MESOPOTAMIA</span>, as directed, and, +acting as Van Martin’s representative, I have seen and +talked with one of the men of the organization. He was +only an underling, however. They are very suspicious +and careful. But tonight I shall meet the principal. It +is all arranged. And then....”</p> + +<p>“Yes, yes,” Grunya cried eagerly. “And then?”</p> + +<p>“I don’t know. I have no plans.”</p> + +<p>“But the danger!”</p> + +<p>Hall smiled reassuringly.</p> + +<p>“I don’t imagine there will be any risk. I am coming +merely to transact some business with the firm, namely,<span class="pagenum" id="Page_28">28</span> +the assassination of Percy Van Martin’s ex-brother-in-law. +Firms do not make a practice of killing their +clients.”</p> + +<p>“But when they find out you are not a client?” she +protested.</p> + +<p>“I won’t be there at that time. And when they do +find out, it will be too late for them to do me any harm.”</p> + +<div class="tb">* * * * *</div> + +<p>“Be careful, do be careful,” Grunya urged as they +parted at the door half an hour later. “And you will +come up for the week end?”</p> + +<p>“Surely.”</p> + +<p>“I’ll meet you at the station myself.”</p> + +<p>“And I’ll meet your redoubtable uncle a few minutes +afterwards, I suppose.” He made a mock shiver. “He’s +not a regular ogre, I hope.”</p> + +<p>“You’ll love him,” she proclaimed proudly. “He is +finer and better than a dozen fathers. He never denies +me anything. Not <span class="locked">even—”</span></p> + +<p>“Me?” Hall interrupted.</p> + +<p>Grunya tried to meet him with an equal audaciousness, +but blushed and dropped her eyes, and the next moment +was encircled by his arms.</p> +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> + +<div class="chapter"> +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_29">29</span></p> + +<h2 class="nobreak" id="Chapter_IV"><i>Chapter IV</i></h2> +</div> + +<p>“So you are Ivan Dragomiloff?”</p> + +<p>Winter Hall paused a moment to glance curiously +around at the book-lined walls and back again to the +colorless blond in the black skullcap, who had not risen +to greet him.</p> + +<p>“I must say access to you is made sufficiently difficult. +It leads one to believe that the—er—work of your +Bureau is performed discreetly as well as capably.”</p> + +<p>Dragomiloff smiled the ghost of a pleased smile.</p> + +<p>“Sit down,” he said, indicating a chair that faced him +and that threw the visitor’s face into the light.</p> + +<p>Again Hall glanced around the room and back at the +man before him.</p> + +<p>“I am surprised,” was Hall’s comment.</p> + +<p>“You expected low-browed ruffians and lurid melodrama, +I suppose?” Dragomiloff queried pleasantly.</p> + +<p>“No, not that. I knew too keen a mind was required +to direct the operations of your—er—institution.”</p> + +<p>“They have been uniformly successful.”</p> + +<p>“How long have you been in business?—if I may ask.”</p> + +<p>“Eleven years, actively—though there was preparation +and elaboration of the plan prior to that.”</p> + +<p>“You don’t mind talking with me about it?” was Hall’s +next query.</p> + +<p>“Certainly not,” came the answer. “As a client, you +are in the same boat with me. Our interests are identical.<span class="pagenum" id="Page_30">30</span> +And, since we never blackmail our clients after the +transaction is completed, our interests remain identical. +A little important information can do no harm, and I +don’t mind saying that I am rather proud of this organization. +It is, as you say, and if I immodestly say so +myself, capably directed.”</p> + +<p>“But I can’t understand,” Hall exclaimed. “You are +the last person in the world I should conceive of as being +at the head of a band of murderers.”</p> + +<p>“And you are the last person in the world I should +expect to find here seeking the professional services of +such a person,” was the dry counter. “I like your looks. +You are strong, honest, unafraid, and, in your eyes is +that undefinable yet unmistakable tiredness of the scholar. +You read a great deal, and study. You are as remarkably +different from my regular run of clients as I am, +obviously, from the person you expected to meet at the +head of a band of murderers. Though executioners is +the better and truer description.”</p> + +<p>“Never mind the name,” Hall answered. “It does not +reduce my surprise that you should be conducting this—er—enterprise.”</p> + +<p>“Ah, but you scarcely know how we conduct it.” +Dragomiloff laced and interlaced his strong, lean fingers +and meditated for further answer. “I might explain that +we conduct our trade with a greater measure of ethics +than our clients bring to us.”</p> + +<p>“Ethics!” Hall burst into laughter.</p> + +<p>“Yes, precisely; and I’ll admit it sounds funny in connection +with an Assassination Bureau.”</p> + +<p>“Is that what you call it?”</p> + +<p>“One name is as good as another,” the head of the +Bureau went on imperturbably. “But you will find, in +patronizing us, a keener, a more rigid standard of right-dealing +than in the business world. I saw the need of<span class="pagenum" id="Page_31">31</span> +that at the start. It was imperative. Organized as we +were, outside the law, and in the very teeth of the law, +success was only to be gained by doing right. We have +to be right with one another, with our patrons, with everybody, +and everything. You have no idea the amount of +business we turn away.”</p> + +<p>“What!” Hall cried. “And why?”</p> + +<p>“Because it would not be right to transact it. Don’t +laugh, please. In fact, we of the Bureau are all rather +fanatical when it comes to ethics. We have the sanction +of right in all that we do. We must have that sanction. +Without it we could not last very long. Believe me, +this is so. And now to business. You have come here +through the accredited channels. You can have but one +errand. Whom do you want executed?”</p> + +<p>“You don’t know?” Hall asked in wonderment.</p> + +<p>“Certainly not. That is not my branch. I spend no +time drumming up trade.”</p> + +<p>“Perhaps, when I give you the man’s name, you will +not find that sanction of right. It seems you are judge +as well as executioner.”</p> + +<p>“Not executioner. I never execute. It is not my +branch. I am the head. I judge-locally, that is—and +other members carry out the orders.”</p> + +<p>“But suppose these others should prove weak vessels?” +Dragomiloff looked very pleased.</p> + +<p>“Ah, that was the rub. I studied it a long time. Almost +as conclusively as anything else, it was that very +thing that made me see that our operations could be conducted +only on an ethical basis. We have our own code +of right, and our own law. Only men of the highest +ethical nature, combined with the requisite physical and +nervous stamina, are admitted to our ranks. As a result, +almost fanatically are our oaths observed. There +have been weak vessels—several of them.” He paused<span class="pagenum" id="Page_32">32</span> +and seemed to ponder sadly. “They paid the penalty. +It was a splendid object lesson to the rest.”</p> + +<p>“You mean—?”</p> + +<p>“Yes; they were executed. It had to be. But it is +very rarely necessary with us.”</p> + +<p>“How do you manage it?”</p> + +<p>“When we have selected a desperate, intelligent, and +reasonable man—this selecting, by the way, is done by +the members themselves, who, rubbing shoulders everywhere +with all sorts of men, have better opportunity than +I for meeting and estimating strong characters. When +such a man is selected, he is tried out. His life is the +pledge he gives for his faithfulness and loyalty. I know +of these men, and have the reports on them. I rarely +see them, unless they rise in the organization, and by the +same token very few of them ever see me.</p> + +<p>“One of the first things done is to give a candidate an +unimportant and unremunerative murder—say, a brutal +mate of some ship, or a bullying foreman, a usurer, or a +petty grafting politician. It is good for the world to have +such individuals out of it, you know. But to return. +Every step of the candidate in this, his first killing, is so +marked by us that a mass of testimony is gathered sufficient +to convict him before any court in this land. And +the affair is so conducted that this testimony proceeds +from outside persons. We would not have to appear. +For that matter, we have never found it necessary to invoke +the country’s law for the castigation of a member.</p> + +<p>“Well, when this initial task has been performed, the +man is one of us, tied to us body and soul. After that +he is thoroughly educated in our <span class="locked">methods—”</span></p> + +<p>“Does ethics enter into the curriculum?” Hall interrupted +to ask.</p> + +<p>“It does, it does,” was the enthusiastic response. “It +is the most important thing we teach our members.<span class="pagenum" id="Page_33">33</span> +Nothing that is not founded on right can endure.”</p> + +<p>“You are an anarchist?” the visitor asked with sharp +irrelevance.</p> + +<p>The Chief of the Assassination Bureau shook his head.</p> + +<p>“No; I am a philosopher.”</p> + +<p>“It is the same thing.”</p> + +<p>“With a difference. For instance, the anarchists mean +well; but I do well. Of what use is philosophy that cannot +be applied? Take the old-country anarchists. They +decide on an assassination. They plan and conspire +night and day, at last strike the blow, and are almost +invariably captured by the police. Usually the person or +personage they try to kill gets off unscathed. Not so +with us.”</p> + +<p>“Don’t you ever fail?”</p> + +<p>“We strive to make failure impossible. Any member +who fails, because of weakness or fear, is punished with +death.” Dragomiloff paused solemnly, his pale blue +eyes shining with an exultant light. “We have never +had a failure. Or course, we give a man a year in which +to perform his task. Also, if it be a big affair, he is +given assistants. And I repeat, we have never had a +failure. The organization is as near perfect as the +mind of man can make it. Even if I should drop out +of it, die suddenly, the organization would run on just +the same.”</p> + +<p>“Do you draw any line at accepting commissions?” +Winter Hall asked.</p> + +<p>“No; from emperor and king down to the humblest +peasant—we accept them all, if—and it is a big <em>if</em>—if +their execution is decided to be socially justifiable. +And, once we have accepted payment, which is in advance, +you know, and have decided it to be right to make +a certain killing, that killing takes place. It is one of +our rules.”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_34">34</span></p> + +<p>As Winter Hall listened, a wild idea flashed into his +mind. So whimsical was it, so almost lunatic, that he +felt immeasurably fascinated by it.</p> + +<p>“You are very ethical, I must say,” he began, “a—what +I might call—ethical enthusiast.”</p> + +<p>“Or monstrosity,” Dragomiloff added pleasantly. +“Yes, I have quite a penchant that way.”</p> + +<p>“Anything you conceive to be right, that thing you +will do.”</p> + +<p>Dragomiloff nodded affirmation, and a silence fell, +which he was the first to break.</p> + +<p>“You have some one in mind whom you wish removed. +Who is it?”</p> + +<p>“I am so curious,” was the reply, “and so interested, +that I should like to approach it tentatively ... you know, +in arranging the terms of the bargain. You surely must +have a scale of prices, determined, of course, by the +position and influence of ... of the victim.”</p> + +<p>Dragomiloff nodded.</p> + +<p>“Suppose it were a king I wished removed?” Hall +queried.</p> + +<p>“There are kings and kings. The price varies. Is +your man a king?”</p> + +<p>“No; he is not a king. He is a strong man, but not +of noble title.”</p> + +<p>“He is not a president?” Dragomiloff asked quickly.</p> + +<p>“No; he holds no official position whatever. In fact, +he is a man in private life. For what sum will you +guarantee the removal of a man in private life?”</p> + +<p>“For such a man it would be less difficult and hazardous. +He would come cheaper.”</p> + +<p>“Not so,” Hall urged. “I can afford to be generous +in this. It is a very difficult and hazardous commission +I am giving you. He is a man of powerful mind, of +infinite wit and recourse.”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_35">35</span></p> + +<p>“A millionaire?”</p> + +<p>“I do not know.”</p> + +<p>“I would suggest forty thousand dollars as the price,” +the head of the Bureau concluded. “Of course, on learning +his identity, I may have to increase that sum. On +the other hand, I may decrease it.”</p> + +<p>Hall drew bills of large denomination from his pocketbook, +counted them, and handed them to the other.</p> + +<p>“I imagined you did business on a currency basis,” +he said, “and so I came prepared. And, now, as I +understand it, you will guarantee to <span class="locked">kill—”</span></p> + +<p>“I do no killing,” Dragomiloff interrupted.</p> + +<p>“You will guarantee to have killed any man I name.”</p> + +<p>“That is correct, with the proviso, of course, that an +investigation shows his execution to be justifiable.”</p> + +<p>“Good. I understand perfectly. Any man I name, +even if he should be my father, or yours?”</p> + +<p>“Yes; though as it happens I have neither father nor +son.”</p> + +<p>“Suppose I named myself?”</p> + +<p>“It would be done. The order would go forth. We +have no concern with the whims of our clients.”</p> + +<p>“But suppose, say tomorrow or next week, I should +change my mind?”</p> + +<p>“It would be too late.” Dragomiloff spoke with decision. +“Once an order goes forth it can never be +recalled. That is one of the most necessary of our +rules.”</p> + +<p>“Very good. However, I am not the man.”</p> + +<p>“Then who is he?”</p> + +<p>“The name men know him by is Ivan Dragomiloff.”</p> + +<p>Hall said it quietly enough, and just as quietly was +it received.</p> + +<p>“I want better identification,” Dragomiloff suggested.</p> + +<p>“He is a native of Russia, I believe. I know he is a<span class="pagenum" id="Page_36">36</span> +resident of New York City. He is blond, remarkably +blond, and of just about your size, height, weight, +and age.”</p> + +<p>Dragomiloff’s pale-blue eyes looked long and steadily +at his visitor. At last he spoke.</p> + +<p>“I was born in the province of Valenko. Where was +your man born?”</p> + +<p>“In the province of Valenko.”</p> + +<p>Again Dragomiloff scrutinized the other with unwavering +eyes.</p> + +<p>“I am compelled to believe that you mean me.”</p> + +<p>Hall nodded unequivocally.</p> + +<p>“It is, believe me, unprecedented,” Dragomiloff went +on. “I am puzzled. Frankly, I cannot understand why +you want my life. I have never seen you before. We +do not know each other. I cannot guess at the remotest +motive. At any rate, you forget that I must have a +sanction of right before I order this execution.”</p> + +<p>“I am prepared to furnish it,” was Hall’s answer.</p> + +<p>“But you must convince me.”</p> + +<p>“I am prepared to do that. It was because I divined +you to be what you called yourself, an ethical monstrosity, +that I conceived this proposition and made it +to you. I believe, if I can prove to you the justification +of your death, that you will carry it out. Am I right?”</p> + +<p>“You are right.” Dragomiloff paused, and then his +face lighted up with a smile. “Of course, that would +be suicide, and you know that this is an Assassination +Bureau.”</p> + +<p>“You would give the order to one of your members. +As I understand, under pledge of his own life he would +be compelled to carry out the order.”</p> + +<p>Dragomiloff looked even pleased.</p> + +<p>“Very true. It goes to show how perfect is the machine +I have created. It is fitted to every contingency,<span class="pagenum" id="Page_37">37</span> +even to this most unexpected one developed by you. +Come. You interest me. You are original. You have +imagination, fantasy. Pray show me the ethical sanction +for my own removal from this world.”</p> + +<p>“Thou shalt not kill,” Hall began.</p> + +<p>“Pardon me,” came the interruption. “We must +get a basis for this discussion, which I fear will quickly +become academic. The point is, you must prove to me +that I have done such wrong that my death is right. +And I am to be judge. What wrong have I done? +What person, not a wrong-doer, have I ordered executed? +In what way have I violated my own sanctions of right +conduct, or even have done wrong blunderingly or unwittingly?”</p> + +<p>“I understand, and I change my discourse accordingly. +First, let me ask if you were responsible for the death +of John Mossman?”</p> + +<p>Dragomiloff nodded.</p> + +<p>“He was a friend of mine. I had known him all my +life. There was no evil in him. He harmed no one.”</p> + +<p>Hall was speaking warmly, but the other’s raised hand +and amused smile made him pause.</p> + +<p>“It was something like seven years ago that John +Mossman built the Fidelity Building. Where did he get +the money? It was at that time that he, who had all his +life been a banker in a small, conservative way, suddenly +branched out in a number of large enterprises. You +remember the fortune he left. Where did he get it?”</p> + +<p>Hall was about to speak, but Dragomiloff signified +that he had not finished.</p> + +<p>“Not long before the building of the Fidelity, you will +remember, the Combine attacked Carolina Steel, bankrupted +it, and then absorbed the wreckage for a song. +The president of Carolina Steel committed <span class="locked">suicide—”</span></p> + +<p>“To escape the penitentiary,” Hall interpolated.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_38">38</span></p> + +<p>“He was tricked into doing what he did.”</p> + +<p>Hall nodded and said, “I recollect. It was one of +the agents of the Combine.”</p> + +<p>“That agent was John Mossman.”</p> + +<p>Hall remained incredulously silent, while the other +continued.</p> + +<p>“I assure you I can prove it, and I will. But do me +the courtesy of accepting for a moment whatever statements +I make. They will be proved, and to your satisfaction.”</p> + +<p>“Very well then. You killed Stolypin.”</p> + +<p>“No; not guilty. The Russian Terrorists did that.”</p> + +<p>“I have your word?”</p> + +<p>“You have my word.”</p> + +<p>Hall ranged over in his mind all the assassinations he +had tabulated, and made another departure.</p> + +<p>“James and Hardman, president and secretary of the +Southwestern Federation of <span class="locked">Miners—”</span></p> + +<p>“We killed them,” Dragomiloff broke in. “And what +was wrong about it—mind you, wrong to me?”</p> + +<p>“You are a humanist. The cause of labor, as that of +the people, must be dear to you. It was a great loss +to organized labor, the deaths of these two leaders.”</p> + +<p>“On the contrary,” Dragomiloff replied. “They were +killed in 1904. For six years prior to that, the Federation +had won not one victory, while it had been decisively +beaten in three disastrous strikes. In the first six months +after the two leaders were removed, the Federation won +the big strike of 1905, and from then to now has never +ceased making substantial gains.”</p> + +<p>“You mean?” Hall demanded.</p> + +<p>“I mean that the Mine Owners League did not bring +about the assassination. I mean that James and Hardman +were secretly in the pay, and in big pay, of the +Mine Owners League. I mean that it was a group of<span class="pagenum" id="Page_39">39</span> +the miners themselves that laid the facts of their leaders’ +treason before us and paid the price we demanded for +the service. We did it for twenty-five thousand dollars.”</p> + +<p>Winter Hall’s bafflement plainly showed, and he debated +a long minute before speaking.</p> + +<p>“I believe you, Mr. Dragomiloff. Tomorrow or next +day I should like to go over the proofs with you. But +that will be merely for formal correctness. In the meantime +I must find some other way to convince you. This +list of assassinations is a long one.”</p> + +<p>“Longer than you think.”</p> + +<p>“And I do not doubt but what you have found similar +justification for all of them. Mind you, not that I believe +any one of these killings to be right, but that I +believe they have been right to you. Your fear that the +discussion would become academic was well founded. +It is only in that way that I can hope to get you. Suppose +we defer it until tomorrow. Will you lunch with +me? Or where would you prefer us to meet?”</p> + +<p>“Right here, I think, after lunch.” Dragomiloff +waved his hand around at his book-covered walls. +“There are plenty of authorities, you see, and we can +always send out to the branch Carnegie Library around +the corner for more.”</p> + +<p>He pressed the call button, and both arose as the +servant entered.</p> + +<p>“Believe me, I am going to get you,” was Hall’s parting +assurance.</p> + +<p>Dragomiloff smiled whimsically.</p> + +<p>“I trust not,” he said. “But if you do it will be +unique.”</p> +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> + +<div class="chapter"> +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_40">40</span></p> + +<h2 class="nobreak" id="Chapter_V"><i>Chapter V</i></h2> +</div> + +<p>For long days and nights the discussion between Hall +and Dragomiloff was waged. At first confined to ethics, +it quickly grew wider and deeper. Ethics being the capstone +of all the sciences, they found themselves compelled +to seek down through those sciences to the original +foundations. Dragomiloff demanded of Hall’s <em>Thou +shalt not kill</em> a more rigid philosophic sanction than +religion had given it. While, in order to be intelligible, +and to reason intelligently, they found it necessary to +thresh out and ascertain each other’s most ultimate beliefs +and telic ideals.</p> + +<p>It was the struggle of two scholars, and practical +scholars at that; yet more often than not the final result +sought was lost in the excitement and clash of ideas. +And Hall did his antagonist the justice of realizing that +on his part it was purely a pursuit of truth. That his +life was the forfeit if he lost had no influence on Dragomiloff’s +reasoning. The question at issue was whether +or not his Assassination Bureau was a right institution.</p> + +<p>Hall’s one thesis, which he never abandoned, to which +he forced all roads of argument to lead, was that the +time had come in the evolution of society when society, +as a whole, must work out its own salvation. The time +was past, he contended, for the man on horseback, or +for small groups of men on horseback, to manage the +destinies of society. Dragomiloff, he insisted, was such<span class="pagenum" id="Page_41">41</span> +a man, and his Assassination Bureau was the steed he +bestrode, by virtue of which he judged and punished, +and, within narrow limits it was true, herded and trampled +society in the direction he wanted it to go.</p> + +<p>Dragomiloff, on the other hand, did not deny that he +played the part of the man on horseback, who thought +for society, decided for society, and drove society; but +he did deny, and emphatically, that society as a whole +was able to manage itself, and that, despite blunders +and mistakes, social progress lay in such management of +the whole by itself. And this was the crux of the question, +to settle which they ransacked history and traced +the social evolution of man up from the minutest known +details of primitive groupings to highest civilization.</p> + +<p>In fact, so practical-minded were the two scholars, so +unmetaphysical, that they accepted social expediency as +the determining factor and agreed that it was in the +highest way ethical. And in the end, measured by this +particular yardstick, Winter Hall won. Dragomiloff +acknowledged his own defeat, and, in his gratification +and excitement, Hall’s hand went impulsively out to him. +Firmly, and despite his surprise, Dragomiloff returned +the grip.</p> + +<p>“I see, now,” he said, “that I failed to lay sufficient +stress on the social factors. The assassinations have not +been so much intrinsically wrong as socially wrong. I +even take part of that back. As between individuals, +they have not been wrong at all. But individuals are +not individuals alone. They are parts of complexes of +individuals. There was where I erred. It is dimly clear +to me. I was not justified. And now—” He broke +off and looked at his watch. “It is two o’clock. We +have sat late. And now I am prepared to pay the +penalty. Of course you will give me time to settle my +affairs before I give the order to my agents?”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_42">42</span></p> + +<p>Hall, who in the height of debate had forgotten the +terms of the debate, was startled.</p> + +<p>“I am not prepared for that,” he said. “And to tell +the truth, it had quite slipped my mind. Perhaps it is +not necessary. You are yourself convinced of the wrong +of assassination. Suppose you disband the organization. +That will be sufficient.”</p> + +<p>But Dragomiloff shook his head.</p> + +<p>“An agreement is an agreement. I have accepted a +commission from you. Right is right, and this is where, +I maintain, the doctrine of social expediency does not +apply. The individual, per se, has some prerogatives +left, and one of these is the keeping of one’s word. This +I must do. The commission shall be carried out. I am +afraid it will be the last handled by the Bureau. This +is Saturday morning. Suppose you give me until tomorrow +night before issuing the order?”</p> + +<p>“Tommyrot!” Hall exclaimed.</p> + +<p>“That is not argument,” was the grave reproof. “Besides, +all argument is finished. I decline to hear any +more. One thing, though, in fairness: considering how +difficult a person I shall be to assassinate, I would suggest +a further charge of at least ten thousand dollars.” +He held up his hand in token that he had more to say. +“Oh, believe me, I am modest. I shall make it so difficult +for my agents that it will be worth all of fifty +thousand and <span class="locked">more—”</span></p> + +<p>“If you will only break up the <span class="locked">organization—”</span></p> + +<p>But Dragomiloff silenced him.</p> + +<p>“The discussion is ended. This is now my affair. The +organization will be broken up in any event, but I warn +you, according to our rules of long standing, I may +escape. As you will recollect, I promised you, at the +time the bargain was made, that if, at the end of a year,<span class="pagenum" id="Page_43">43</span> +the commission had not been fulfilled, the fee would be +returned to you plus five percent. If I escape I shall +hand it to you myself.”</p> + +<p>But Winter Hall waved his hand impatiently.</p> + +<p>“Listen,” he said. “I insist on one statement. You +and I are agreed on the foundation of ethics. Social +expedience being the basis of all <span class="locked">ethics—”</span></p> + +<p>“Pardon me—” came the interruption “—of social +ethics only. The individual, in certain aspects, is still +an individual.”</p> + +<p>“Neither you nor I,” Hall continued, “accepts the old +Judaic code of an eye for an eye. We do not believe in +punishment for crime. The killings of your Bureau, +while justified by crimes committed by the victims, were +not regarded by you as punishments. You looked upon +your victims as social ills, the extirpation of which would +benefit society. You removed them from the social +organism on the same principle that surgeons remove cancers. +I caught that point of view of yours from the +beginning of the discussion.</p> + +<p>“But to return. Not accepting the punishment theory, +you and I regard crime as a mere anti-social tendency, +and as such, expediently and arbitrarily, we classify it. +Thus, crime is a social abnormality, partaking of the +nature of sickness. It <em>is</em> sickness. The criminal, the +wrong-doer, is a sick man, and he should be treated accordingly, +so that he may be cured of his sickness.</p> + +<p>“Now I come to you and to my point. Your Assassination +Bureau was anti-social. You believed in it. +Therefore you were sick. Your belief in assassination +constituted your sickness. But now you no longer believe. +You are cured. Your tendency is no longer anti-social. +There is now no need for your death, which +would be nothing else than punishment for an illness<span class="pagenum" id="Page_44">44</span> +of which you had already been cured. Disband the +organization and go out of business. That is all you +have to do.”</p> + +<p>“Are you done—quite done?” Dragomiloff queried +suavely.</p> + +<p>“Yes.”</p> + +<p>“Then let me answer and end the argument. I conceived +my Bureau in righteousness, and I operated it in +righteousness. Also, I created it, made it the perfect +thing that it is. Its foundation was certain right principles. +In all its history, not one of these principles was +violated. A particular one of these principles was that +portion of the contracts with our clients wherein we +guaranteed to carry out any commission we accepted. I +accepted a commission from you. I received forty thousand +dollars. The agreement was that I should order my +own execution if you proved to my satisfaction that the +assassinations achieved by the Bureau were wrong. You +have proved it. Nothing remains but to live up to the +agreement.</p> + +<p>“I am proud of this institution. Nor shall I, with a +last act, stultify its basic principles, break the rules under +which it operated. This I hold is my right as an individual, +and in no way does it conflict with social expediency. +I do not want to die. If I escape death for +a year, the commission I accepted from you, as you +know, automatically terminates. I shall do my best to +escape. And now, not another word. I am resolved. +Concerning breaking up the Bureau, what would you +suggest?”</p> + +<p>“Give me the names and all details of all members. +I shall then serve notice on them to <span class="locked">disband—”</span></p> + +<p>“Not until after my death or until the year has expired,” +Dragomiloff objected.</p> + +<p>“All right, after your death, or the expiration of the<span class="pagenum" id="Page_45">45</span> +year, I shall serve this notice, backed by the threat of +going to the police with my information.”</p> + +<p>“They may kill you,” was the warning.</p> + +<p>“Yes; they may. I shall have to take that chance.”</p> + +<p>“You can avoid it. When you serve notice, inform +them that all information is placed in escrow in half a +dozen different cities, and that in event of your being +killed it goes into the hands of the police.”</p> + +<p>It was three in the morning before the details for disbanding +the organization were arranged. It was at this +time that a long silence fell, broken at last by Dragomiloff.</p> + +<p>“Do you know, Hall, I like you. You are an ethical +enthusiast yourself. You might almost have created the +Bureau, than which I know no higher compliment, because +it is my belief that the Bureau is a remarkable +achievement. At any rate, not only do I like you, but +I know I can trust you. You would keep your word as +I keep mine. Now, I have a daughter. Her mother is +dead and in the event of my death she would be without +kith or kin in the world. I should like to put her in +your charge. Are you willing to accept the responsibility?”</p> + +<p>Hall nodded his acquiescence.</p> + +<p>“She is a grown woman, so there is no need for guardianship +papers. But she is unmarried, and I shall leave her +a great deal of money, the investment of which you will +have to see to. I am running out to see her this afternoon. +Will you come along? It is not far, only at Edge +Moor on the Hudson.”</p> + +<p>“Why, I’m making a week-end visit to Edge Moor myself!” +Hall exclaimed.</p> + +<p>“Good. Whereabouts in Edge Moor?”</p> + +<p>“I don’t know. I’ve never been there.”</p> + +<p>“Never mind. It is not a large place. You can spare +a couple of hours Sunday morning. I’ll run over for you<span class="pagenum" id="Page_46">46</span> +in a machine. Telephone me where and when to come. +Suburban 245 is my number.”</p> + +<p>Hall jotted the number down and rose to go.</p> + +<p>Dragomiloff yawned as they shook hands.</p> + +<p>“I wish you would reconsider,” the other urged.</p> + +<p>But Dragomiloff yawned again, shook his head, and +showed his visitor out.</p> +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> + +<div class="chapter"> +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_47">47</span></p> + +<h2 class="nobreak" id="Chapter_VI"><i>Chapter VI</i></h2> +</div> + +<p>Grunya ran the machine that carried Winter Hall from +the station at Edge Moor.</p> + +<p>“Uncle is really eager to meet you,” she assured him. +“He doesn’t know who you are, yet. I teased him by +not telling him. Perhaps it is the teasing that accounts +for his eagerness, for he certainly is eager.”</p> + +<p>“Have you told him?” Hall asked significantly.</p> + +<p>Grunya became suddenly absorbed in operating the +car.</p> + +<p>“What?” she asked.</p> + +<p>For reply, Hall laid his hand on hers upon the steering +wheel. She ventured one glance at him, looking into his +eyes with audacious steadiness for a moment. Then the +telltale flush betrayed her, the steady gaze wavered, and +with dropped eyes she returned to the steering.</p> + +<p>“That might account for his eagerness,” Hall remarked +quietly.</p> + +<p>“I—I never thought of it.”</p> + +<p>Her eyes were turned from him, but he could see the +rosy warmth in her cheek. After a minute he made another +remark.</p> + +<p>“It is a pity to shame so splendid a sunset with unveraciousness.”</p> + +<p>“Coward,” she cried; but her enunciation made the +epithet a love note.</p> + +<p>And then she looked at him again, and laughed, and<span class="pagenum" id="Page_48">48</span> +he laughed with her, and both felt that the sunset was +unsmirched and that the world was very fair.</p> + +<p>It was when they entered the driveway to the bungalow +that he asked her in what direction lay the Dragomiloff +place.</p> + +<p>“Never heard of it,” was her response. “Dragomiloff? +No such person lives in Edge Moor, I am sure. Why?”</p> + +<p>“They may be recent comers,” he suggested.</p> + +<p>“Perhaps so. And here we are. Grosset, take Mr. +Hall’s suitcase. Where’s Uncle?”</p> + +<p>“In the library, writing, miss. He said not to disturb +him till dinner.”</p> + +<p>“Then at dinner you’ll meet,” she said to Hall. “And +you’ll only just have time. Show Mr. Hall his room, +Grosset.”</p> + +<p>Fifteen minutes later, Winter Hall, in the absence of +Grunya, entered the living room and found himself face +to face with the man he had parted from at three that +morning.</p> + +<p>“What the devil are you doing here?” Hall blurted +out.</p> + +<p>But the other’s composure was unshaken.</p> + +<p>“Waiting to be introduced, I suppose,” he said, holding +out his hand. “I am Sergius Constantine. Grunya has +certainly surprised both of us.”</p> + +<p>“And you are also Ivan Dragomiloff?”</p> + +<p>“Yes; but not in this house.”</p> + +<p>“But I do not understand. You spoke of a daughter.”</p> + +<p>“Grunya is my daughter, though she believes herself +my niece. It is a long story, which I shall make short, +after dinner, when we get rid of Grunya. But let me tell +you now, that the situation is beautiful, gratifyingly beautiful. +You, whom I selected to watch over my Grunya, +I find are already—if I am right—her lover. Am I +right?”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_49">49</span></p> + +<p>“I—I don’t know what to say,” Hall faltered, his wit +for one time not ready, his mind stunned by this most +undreamed dénouement.</p> + +<p>“Am I right?” Dragomiloff repeated.</p> + +<p>“You are right,” came the answer, prompt at last. “I +do love—her—I do love Grunya. But does she know +... you?”</p> + +<p>“Only as her uncle, Sergius Constantine, head of the +importing house of that name—here she comes. As I +was saying, I agree with you in preferring Turgenev to +Tolstoy. Of course, this without detracting from the +power of Tolstoy. It is Tolstoy’s philosophy that is repugnant +to one who believes—ah, here you are, Grunya.”</p> + +<p>“And already acquainted,” she pouted. “I had expected +to be present at such a momentous encounter.” +She turned chidingly to Hall, while Constantine’s arm encircled +her waist. “Why didn’t you warn me you could +dress with such speed?”</p> + +<p>She held out her free hand to him.</p> + +<p>“Come,” she said, “let us go in to dinner.”</p> + +<p>And in this manner, Constantine’s arm around Grunya, +and she lightly leading Hall by the hand, the three passed +into the dining room.</p> + +<p>At table Hall caught himself desiring to pinch himself +in order to disprove the reality of which he was a part. +The situation was almost too preposterously grotesque to +be real—Grunya, whom he loved, alternately tilting and +smiling at her father whom she believed her uncle, and +whom she never dreamed was the originator and head of +the dread Assassination Bureau; he, Hall, whom Grunya +loved in return, joining in the badinage against the man +to whom he had paid fifty thousand dollars to order his +own execution; and Dragomiloff himself, unperturbed, +complacent, unbending in the general mirth, until his habitual +frostiness thawed into actual geniality.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_50">50</span></p> + +<p>Afterwards, Grunya played and sang, until Dragomiloff, +under the double plea of an expected visitor and a desire +for a man-talk with Hall, advised her, in mock phrases +of paternal patronage, that it was bedtime for a chit of +her years. With a parting fling, she said good night and +left them, her laughter rippling back through the open +door. Dragomiloff got up, closed it, and returned to his +seat.</p> + +<p>“Well?” Hall demanded.</p> + +<p>“My father was a contractor in the Russian-Turkish +War,” was the reply. “His name was—well, never mind +his name. He made a fortune of sixty million rubles, +which I, as an only son, inherited. At university I became +inoculated with radical ideas and joined the Young +Russians. We were a pack of Utopianists and dreamers, +and of course we got into trouble. I was in prison several +times. My wife died of smallpox at the same time +that her brother Sergius Constantine died of the same disease. +This took place on my last estate. Our latest conspiracy +had leaked, and this time it meant Siberia for me. +My escape was simple. My brother-in-law, a pronounced +conservative, was buried under my name, and I became +Sergius Constantine. Grunya was a baby. I got out of +the country easily enough, though what was left of my +fortune fell into the hands of the officials. Here in New +York, where Russian spies are more prevalent than you +imagine, I maintained the fiction of my name. And there +you have it. I have even returned once to Russia, as my +brother-in-law, of course, and sold out his possessions. +Too long did I maintain the fiction; Grunya knew me as +her uncle, and her uncle I have remained. That is all.”</p> + +<p>“But the Assassination Bureau?” Hall asked.</p> + +<p>“Believing it was right, and stung by the charge that +we Russians were thinkers, not doers, I organized it. +And it has worked, successfully, perfectly. It has been<span class="pagenum" id="Page_51">51</span> +a financial success as well. I proved that I could act, as +well as dream dreams. Grunya, however, still calls me a +dreamer. But she does not know. One moment.”</p> + +<p>He went into the adjoining room and returned with a +large envelope in his hand.</p> + +<p>“And now to other things. My expected visitor is the +man to whom I shall give the order of execution. I intended +to do so tomorrow, but your opportune presence +tonight expedites matters. Here are my instructions to +you.” He handed over the envelope. “Grunya, legally, +must sign all papers, deeds, and such things, but you must +advise her. My will is in my safe. You will have to +handle my funds for me until I die or return. If I telegraph +for money, or anything, you will do as instructed. +In this envelope is the cipher I shall use, which is likewise +the cipher used by the organization.</p> + +<p>“There is a large emergency fund which I have handled +for the Bureau. This belongs to the members. I shall +make you its custodian. The members will draw upon +it at need.” Dragomiloff shook his head with simulated +sadness and smiled. “I am afraid I shall prove very expensive +to them before they get me.”</p> + +<p>“Heavens, man!” Hall cried. “You are furnishing +them the sinews of war. What you should do is to prevent +their access to the fund.”</p> + +<p>“That would not be fair, Hall. And I am so made +that I must play fairly. And I do you the honor to believe +that in the matter you will likewise play fairly and +obey all my instructions. Am I right?”</p> + +<p>“But you are asking me to furnish aid to the men who +are going to kill you, the father of the girl I love. It is +preposterous. It is monstrous. Put a stop to the whole +thing now. Disband the organization and be done +with it.”</p> + +<p>But Dragomiloff was adamant.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_52">52</span></p> + +<p>“My mind is made up. You know that. I must do +what I believe to be right. You will obey my instructions?”</p> + +<p>“You are a monster! A stubborn, stiff-necked monster +of absurd and lunatic righteousness. You are a +scholar’s mind degraded, you are ethics gone mad, you +are ... are....”</p> + +<p>But Winter Hall failed in his quest for further superlatives, +and stuttered, and ceased. Dragomiloff smiled patiently.</p> + +<p>“You will obey my instructions. Am I right?”</p> + +<p>“Yes, yes, yes. I’ll obey them,” Hall cried angrily. +“It is patent that you will have your way. There is no +stopping you. But why tonight? Won’t tomorrow be +time enough to start on this madman’s adventure?”</p> + +<p>“No; I am eager to start. And you have hit the precise +word. Adventure. That is it. I have not had it since +I was a boy, since I was a young Bakuninite in Russia +dreaming my boyish dreams of universal human freedom. +Since then, what have I done? I have been a thinking +machine. I have built up successful businesses. I have +made a fortune. I have invented the Assassination Bureau +and run it. And that is all. I have not lived. I +have had no adventure. I have been a mere spider, a +huge brain thinking and planning in the midst of a web. +But now I break the web. I go forth on the adventure +path. Why, do you know, I have never killed a man in +my life. Nor have I ever seen one killed. I was never +in a railroad accident. I know nothing of violence; I +who possess the vast strength of violence have never used +that strength save in amity, in boxing and wrestling and +such exercises. Now I shall live, body and brain, and +play a new role. Strength!”</p> + +<p>He held out his lean white hand and looked at it +angrily.</p> + +<p>“Grunya will tell you that I can bend a silver dollar<span class="pagenum" id="Page_53">53</span> +between those fingers. Was that all they were made for?—to +bend dollars? Here, your arm a moment.”</p> + +<p>Merely between fingertips and thumb, he caught Hall’s +forearm midway from wrist to elbow. He pressed, and +Hall was startled by the fierce pang of the bruise. It +seemed as if fingers and thumb would meet through the +flesh and bone. The next moment the arm was flung +aside, and Dragomiloff was smiling grimly.</p> + +<p>“No damage,” he said, “though it will be black and +blue for a week or so. Now do you know why I want to +get out of my web? I have vegetated for a score of +years. I have used those fingers to write my signature +and to turn the pages of books. From my web I have +sent men out on the adventure path. Now I shall play +against those men, and I, too, shall do. It will be a royal +game. Mine was the master mind that made the perfect +machine. I created it. Never has it failed to destroy +the man appointed. I am now the man appointed. +The question is: <em>is it greater than I, its creator?</em> Will it +destroy its creator, or will its creator outwit it?”</p> + +<p>He stopped abruptly, looked at his watch, and pressed +a bell.</p> + +<p>“Have the car brought around,” he told the servant +who responded, “put into it the suitcase you will find +in my bedroom.”</p> + +<p>He turned to Hall as the servant left the room.</p> + +<p>“And now my hegira begins. Haas should be here +any moment.”</p> + +<p>“Who is Haas?”</p> + +<p>“Bar none and absolutely the most capable member +we have. He has always been given our most difficult +and hazardous commissions. He is an ethical fanatic, +a Danite. No destroying angel was ever so terrible +as he. He is a flame. He is not a man at all, but a +flame. You shall see for yourself. There he is now.”</p> + +<p>A moment later the man was shown in. Hall was<span class="pagenum" id="Page_54">54</span> +shocked by the first view of his face—a wasted, ravaged +face, hollow-cheeked and sunken, in which burned a pair +of eyes the like of which could be experienced only in +nightmares. Such was the fire of them that the whole +face seemed caught up in the conflagration.</p> + +<p>Hall acknowledged the introduction, and was surprised +at the firm, almost savagely firm, grip of the handshake. +He noted the man’s movements as he took a +chair and seated himself. He seemed to move cat-like, +and Hall was confident that he was muscled like a tiger, +though all this was belied by the withered, blighted face, +which gave an impression that the rest of the body was +a shrunken slender shell. Slender the body was, but Hall +could mark the bulge of the biceps and shoulder muscles.</p> + +<p>“I have a commission for you, Mr. Haas,” Dragomiloff +began. “Possibly it may prove the most dangerous and +difficult one you have ever undertaken.”</p> + +<p>Hall could have sworn that the man’s eyes blazed even +more fiercely at the intimation.</p> + +<p>“This case has received my sanction,” Dragomiloff +continued. “It is right, essentially right. The man +must die. The Bureau has received fifty thousand +dollars for his death. According to our custom, one-third +of this sum will go to you. But so difficult am I +afraid it will prove, that I have decided your share shall +be one-half. Here are five thousand for <span class="locked">expenses—”</span></p> + +<p>“The amount is unusual,” Haas broke in, licking his +lips as if they were parched by the flame of his being.</p> + +<p>“The man you are to kill is unusual,” Dragomiloff +retorted. “You will need to call upon Schwartz and +Harrison immediately to assist you. If, after a time, the +three of you have <span class="locked">failed—”</span></p> + +<p>Haas snorted incredulously, and the fever that seemed +consuming him burned up with increasing heat in his +lean and avid face.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_55">55</span></p> + +<p>“If after a time, the three of you have failed, call +upon the whole organization.”</p> + +<p>“Who is the man?” Haas demanded, and he bit the +words out almost in a snarl.</p> + +<p>“One moment.” Dragomiloff turned to Hall. “What +shall you tell Grunya?”</p> + +<p>Hall considered for a space.</p> + +<p>“A half-truth will do. I sketched the organization to +her before I knew you. I can tell her you are menaced. +That will suffice. And no matter what the outcome, she +need never know the rest.”</p> + +<p>Dragomiloff bowed his approbation.</p> + +<p>“Mr. Hall is to serve as secretary,” he explained to +Haas. “He has the cipher. All applications for money +and everything else will be made to him. Keep him informed +from time to time of progress.”</p> + +<p>“Who is the man?” Haas rasped out again.</p> + +<p>“One minute, Mr. Haas. There is one thing I want to +impress on you. Your pledge you remember. No +matter who the person may be, you know that you must +perform the task. You know in every way you must +avoid risking your own life. You know what failure +means, that all your comrades are sworn to kill you if +you fail.”</p> + +<p>“I know all that,” Haas interrupted. “It is unnecessary.”</p> + +<p>“It is my wish to have you absolutely straight on this +point. No matter who the <span class="locked">person—”</span></p> + +<p>“Father, brother, wife—ay, the devil himself, or God—I +understand. Who is the man? Where will I find +him? You know me. When I have anything to do, I +want to do it.”</p> + +<p>Dragomiloff turned to Hall with a smile of gratification.</p> + +<p>“As I told you, I selected our best agent.”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_56">56</span></p> + +<p>“We are wasting time,” Haas muttered impatiently.</p> + +<p>“Very well,” Dragomiloff answered. “Are you +ready?”</p> + +<p>“Yes.”</p> + +<p>“Now?”</p> + +<p>“Now.”</p> + +<p>“I, Ivan Dragomiloff, am the man.”</p> + +<p>Haas was staggered by the unexpectedness of it.</p> + +<p>“You?” he whispered, as if louder speech had been +scorched from his throat.</p> + +<p>“I,” Dragomiloff answered simply.</p> + +<p>“Then there is no time like now,” Haas said swiftly, +at the same time moving his right hand towards his side +pocket.</p> + +<p>But even more swift was the leap of Dragomiloff upon +him. Before Hall could rise from his chair the thing had +happened and the danger was past. He saw Dragomiloff’s +two thumbs, end on, crooked and rigid, drive +into the two hollows at either side of the base of Haas’s +neck. So quickly that it was practically simultaneous, at +the instant of the first driven contact of the thumbs, +Haas’s hand stopped moving in the direction of the +weapon in his pocket. Both his hands shot up and +clutched spasmodically at the other’s hands. Haas’s face +was distorted in an expression of incredible and absolute +agony. He writhed and twisted for a minute, then his +eyes closed, his hands dropped, his body went limp, and +Dragomiloff eased him down to the floor, the flame of +him quenched in unconsciousness.</p> + +<p>Dragomiloff rolled him on his face, and, with a handkerchief, +knotted his hands behind his back. He worked +quickly, and as he worked he talked.</p> + +<p>“Observe, Hall, the first anaesthetic ever used in surgery. +It is purely mechanical. The thumbs press on<span class="pagenum" id="Page_57">57</span> +the carotid arteries, shutting off the blood supply to the +brain. The Japanese practiced it in surgical operations +for centuries. If I had held the pressure for a minute +or so more, the man would be dead. As it is, he will regain +consciousness in a few seconds. See! He is moving +now.”</p> + +<p>He rolled Haas over on his back; his eyes fluttered +open and rested on Dragomiloffs face in a puzzled way.</p> + +<p>“I told you it was a difficult case, Mr. Haas,” Dragomiloff +assured him. “You have failed in the first attempt. +I am afraid that you will fail many times.”</p> + +<p>“You’ll give a run for my money, I guess,” was the +answer. “Though why you want to be killed is beyond +me.”</p> + +<p>“But I don’t want to be killed.”</p> + +<p>“Then why under the sun have you given me the +order?”</p> + +<p>“That’s my business, Mr. Haas. And it is your business +to see that you do your best. How does your throat +feel?”</p> + +<p>The recumbent man rolled his head back and forth.</p> + +<p>“Sore,” he announced.</p> + +<p>“It is a trick you ought to learn.”</p> + +<p>“I know it now,” Haas rejoined, “and I am very much +aware of the precise place in which to insert the thumbs. +What are you going to do with me?”</p> + +<p>“Take you along with me in the car and drop you by +the roadside. It’s a warm night, so you won’t catch +cold. If I left you here, Mr. Hall might untie you before +I got started. And now I think I’ll bother you for that +weapon in your coat-pocket.”</p> + +<p>Dragomiloff leaned over, and from the pocket in +question drew forth an automatic pistol.</p> + +<p>“Loaded for big game and cocked and ready,” he said,<span class="pagenum" id="Page_58">58</span> +examining it. “All he had to do was to drop the safety +lever with his thumb and pull the trigger. Will you walk +to the car with me, Mr. Haas?”</p> + +<p>Haas shook his head.</p> + +<p>“This is more comfortable than the roadside.”</p> + +<p>For reply, Dragomiloff bent over him and lightly +effected his terrible thumb grip on the throat.</p> + +<p>“I’ll walk,” Haas gasped.</p> + +<p>Quickly and lightly, though his arms were tied behind +him, and apparently without effort, the recumbent man +rose to his feet, giving Hall a hint of the tiger-muscles +with which he was endowed.</p> + +<p>“It’s all right,” Haas grumbled. “I’m not kicking, +and I’ll take my medicine. But you caught me unexpectedly, +and I’ll tell you one thing. It is that you +can’t do it again, or anything else.”</p> + +<p>Dragomiloff turned and spoke to Hall.</p> + +<p>“The Japanese claim seven different death-touches, +but I only know four. And this man dreams he could +best me in physical encounter. Mr. Haas, let me tell +you one thing. You see the edge of my hand. Omitting +the death-touches and everything else, merely using +the edge of that hand like a cleaver, I can break your +bones, disjoint your joints, and rupture your tendons. +Pretty good, eh, for the thinking machine you have +always known? Come on; let us start. This way for +the adventure path. Goodbye, Hall.”</p> + +<p>The front door closed behind them, and Winter Hall, +stupefied, looked about him at the modern room in which +he stood. He was more pervaded than ever by the impression +of unrealness. Yet that was a grand piano over +there, and those were the current magazines on the reading +table. He even glanced over their familiar names +in an effort to orient himself. He wondered if he were +going to wake up in a few minutes. He glanced at the<span class="pagenum" id="Page_59">59</span> +titles of a table-rack of books—evidently Dragomiloff’s. +There, incongruously cheek by jowl, were Mahan’s +<i>Problem of Asia</i>, Buckner’s <i>Force and Matter</i>, Wells’s +<i>Mr. Polly</i>, Nietzsche’s <i>Beyond Good and Evil</i>, Jacob’s +<i>Many Cargoes</i>, Veblen’s <i>Theory of the Leisure Class</i>, +Hyde’s <i>From Epicurus to Christ</i>, and Henry James’s latest +novel—all forsaken by this strange mind which had +closed the page of its life on books and fared forth into +an impossible madness of adventure.</p> +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> + +<div class="chapter"> +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_60">60</span></p> + +<h2 class="nobreak" id="Chapter_VII"><i>Chapter VII</i></h2> +</div> + +<p>“There is no use waiting for your uncle,” Hall told +Grunya next morning. “We must eat breakfast and +start for town.”</p> + +<p>“We?” she asked in frank wonder. “What for?”</p> + +<p>“To get married. Before his departure, your uncle +made me your unofficial guardian, and it seems to me +that the best thing to do is to make my position official—that +is, if you have no serious objections.”</p> + +<p>“I have, decidedly,” was her reply. “In the first place, +I dislike being bullied into anything, even into so gratifying +a thing as marriage with you. And next, I detest +mystery. Where is Uncle? What has happened? +Where did he go? Did he catch an early train for the +city? And why should he go to the city on Sunday?”</p> + +<p>Hall looked at her gloomily.</p> + +<p>“Grunya, I am not going to tell you to be brave and all +that fol-de-rol. I know you, and it is unnecessary.” He +noted growing alarm in her face and hurried on. “I +don’t know when your uncle will return. I don’t know if +he will ever return, or if you will ever see him again. +Listen. You remember that Assassination Bureau I told +you about?”</p> + +<p>She nodded.</p> + +<p>“Well, it has selected him for its next victim. He has +fled, that is all, in an attempt to escape.”</p> + +<p>“Oh! But this is outrageous!” she cried. “My Uncle<span class="pagenum" id="Page_61">61</span> +Sergius! This is the twentieth century. They don’t do +things like that now. This is some joke you and he are +playing on me.”</p> + +<p>And Hall, wondering what she would think if she knew +the whole truth concerning her uncle, smiled grimly.</p> + +<p>“On my honor, it is true,” he assured her. “Your +uncle has been selected as the next victim. You remember +he was writing a great deal yesterday afternoon. +He had had his warning and was getting his affairs in +shape and preparing his instructions for me.”</p> + +<p>“But the police. Why has he not appealed to them for +protection from this band of cutthroats?”</p> + +<p>“Your uncle is a peculiar man. He won’t listen to +any suggestion of the police. Furthermore, he has +made me promise to keep the police out of it.”</p> + +<p>“But not me,” she interrupted, starting towards the +door. “I shall call them up at once.”</p> + +<p>Hall caught her by the wrist, and she swung angrily +around on him.</p> + +<p>“Listen, dear,” he said placatingly. “The whole thing +is madness, I know. It is the sheerest impossible lunacy. +Yet it is so, it is true, every last bit of it. Your uncle does +not want the police brought in. It is his wish. It is +his command to me. If you violate his wish, it will be +because I have made the mistake of telling you. I am +confident I have made no mistake.”</p> + +<p>He released her, and she hesitated on the threshold.</p> + +<p>“It can’t be!” she exclaimed. “It is unbelievable! +It—it—oh, you are joking!”</p> + +<p>“It is unbelievable to me, too, yet I am compelled to +believe. Your uncle packed a suitcase last night and +left. I saw him go. He said goodbye to me. He put +me in charge of his affairs and yours. Here are his +instructions on that score.”</p> + +<p>Hall drew out his pocketbook and selected several sheets<span class="pagenum" id="Page_62">62</span> +of paper in the unmistakable handwriting of Sergius +Constantine.</p> + +<p>“And here, also, is a note to you. He was in great +haste, you know. Come in and read them at breakfast.”</p> + +<p>It was a depressing meal, Grunya taking nothing more +than a cup of coffee, and Hall toying half-heartedly with +an egg. The final convincing of Grunya was brought +about by a telegram addressed to Hall. The fact that +it was in cipher, and that he possessed the key, satisfied +her, but did not diminish the mystery.</p> + +<p>“<em>Shall let you hear from me from time to time</em>,” Hall +translated it. “<i>Love to Grunya. Tell her you have my +consent to marry her. The rest depends on her.</i>”</p> + +<p>“By this telegram I hope to be able to keep track of +his movements,” Hall explained. “And now let us go +and be married.”</p> + +<p>“While he is a hunted creature over the face of the +earth? Never! Something must be done. We must +do something. I thought you were going to destroy this +nest of murderers. Destroy it, then, and save him.”</p> + +<p>“I can’t explain everything to you,” he said gently. +“But this is part of the program for destroying them. I +did not plan it this way, but it got beyond me. I can +tell you this much, though. If your uncle can escape +for a year he will be immune; he will never be endangered +again. And I think he can avoid his pursuers for +that long. In the meantime I shall do everything in +my power to aid him, though his own instructions limit +me, as, for instance, when he says that under no circumstances +are the police to be called in.”</p> + +<p>“When the year is up, then I shall marry,” was +Grunya’s final judgment.</p> + +<p>“Very well. And in the meantime, today, are you +going in to stop in the city, or will you remain here?”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_63">63</span></p> + +<p>“I am going in on the next train.”</p> + +<p>“So am I.”</p> + +<p>“Then we’ll go in together,” Grunya said, with the first +faint hint of a smile that morning.</p> + +<p>It proved a busy day for Hall. Parting from Grunya +when town was reached, he devoted himself to Dragomiloff’s +affairs and instructions. The manager of S. +Constantine & Co. was stubbornly suspicious of Hall, +despite the letter he delivered to him in his employer’s +handwriting. And when Hall called up Grunya on the +telephone to confirm him, the manager doubted that it +was Constantine’s niece at the other end of the wire. So +Grunya was compelled to come in person and substantiate +Hall’s statements.</p> + +<p>Following upon that he and Grunya lunched together, +after which, alone, he went to take possession of Dragomiloff’s +quarters. Certain that Grunya knew nothing +about the rooms where the deaf mute presided, Hall had +sounded her and found that he was right.</p> + +<p>The deaf mute made little trouble. By talking straight +to him so that he could watch the lips, Hall discovered +that conversation was no more difficult than with an +ordinary person. On the other hand, the mute was +forced to write whatever he wished to communicate to +Hall. Upon receiving the letter which Hall presented +from Dragomiloff, the fellow immediately pressed it to his +nose and sniffed long and carefully. Satisfied by this +means of its genuineness, he accepted Hall as +the temporary master of the place.</p> + +<p>That evening Hall had three callers. The first, a +rotund, bewhiskered, and genial person who gave the +name of Burdwell, was one of the agents of the Bureau. +By reference to the list of descriptions of the members, +Hall identified him, though not by the name he had given.</p> + +<p>“Your name is not Burdwell,” Hall said.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_64">64</span></p> + +<p>“I know it,” was the answer. “Perhaps you can tell +me what is.”</p> + +<p>“I can. It is Thompson—Sylvanius Thompson.”</p> + +<p>“It sounds familiar,” was the jolly response. “Perhaps +you can tell me something more.”</p> + +<p>“You have been associated with the organization for +five years. You were born in Toronto. You are +forty-seven years old. You were professor of sociology +at Barlington University, and you were forced to resign +because your economic teachings offended the founder. +You have carried out twelve commissions. Shall I name +them for you?”</p> + +<p>Sylvanius Thompson held up a warning hand.</p> + +<p>“We do not mention such occurrences.”</p> + +<p>“We do in this room,” Hall retorted.</p> + +<p>The ex-professor of sociology immediately acknowledged +the correctness of the statement.</p> + +<p>“No use naming them all,” he said. “Give me the +first and the last, and I’ll know I can talk business with +you.”</p> + +<p>Again Hall referred to the list.</p> + +<p>“Your first was Sig Lemuels, a police magistrate. It +was your entrance test. Your last was Bertram Festle, +who was supposed to have been drowned while going +aboard his yacht at Bar Point.”</p> + +<p>“Very good.” Sylvanius Thompson paused to light a +cigar. “I merely wanted to make sure, that’s all. I’ve +never met anybody but the Chief here, so it was rather +unprecedented to have to deal with a stranger. Now to +business. I haven’t had a commission for some time +now, and funds are running low.”</p> + +<p>Hall drew out a typed copy he had made of Dragomiloff’s +instructions and read a certain paragraph carefully.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_65">65</span></p> + +<p>“There is nothing on hand now,” he said. “But here +is two thousand dollars with which to keep going. This +is an advance on future services. Keep closely in touch, +for you may be needed any time. The Bureau has a +big affair on hand, and the assistance of all its members +may be called for any time. In fact, I am empowered +to tell you that the very life of the organization is at +stake. Your receipt, please.”</p> + +<p>The ex-professor signed the receipt, puffed at his cigar, +and evidenced no intention of going.</p> + +<p>“Do you like to kill men?” Hall asked bluntly.</p> + +<p>“Oh, I don’t mind it,” answered Thompson, “though +I can’t say that I like it. But one must live. I have a +wife and three children.”</p> + +<p>“Do you believe your way of making a living is right?” +was Hall’s next question.</p> + +<p>“Certainly; else I would not make my living that way. +Besides, I am not a murderer. I am an executioner. +No man is ever removed by the Bureau without cause—and +by that I mean righteous cause. Only arch-offenders +against society are removed, as you know yourself.”</p> + +<p>“I don’t mind telling you, Professor, that I know very +little about it. It is true, though I am in temporary +charge of the Bureau and acting under most rigid instructions. +Tell me, may you not place mistaken faith +in the Chief?”</p> + +<p>“I do not follow.”</p> + +<p>“I mean ethical faith. May he not be mistaken in +his judgments? May he not select you, for instance, +to kill—I beg pardon—to execute, a man who is not +an arch-offender against society, or who may be entirely +innocent of the misdeeds charged against him?”</p> + +<p>“No, young man, that cannot happen. Whenever a<span class="pagenum" id="Page_66">66</span> +commission is offered me—and I presume this is true +of the other members—I first of all call for the evidence +and weigh it carefully. I once even declined a certain +commission because of reasonable doubt. It is true, I +was afterwards proved wrong, but the principle was there, +you see. Why, the Bureau could not last a year if it +were not impregnably founded on right. I, for one, +could not look my wife in the eyes nor take my innocent +children in my arms did I believe it to be otherwise with +the Bureau and the commissions I carry out for the +Bureau.”</p> + +<p>Next, after the ex-professor, came Haas, livid and +hungry-looking, to report progress.</p> + +<p>“The Chief is headed towards Chicago,” he began. +“He ran his auto clear through to Albany and got away +on the New York Central. His Pullman berth was for +Chicago. I was too late to follow him, so I got a wire +to Schwartz in the city here, who caught the next train. +Also I telegraphed to the head of the Chicago Bureau—you +know him?”</p> + +<p>“Yes; Starkington.”</p> + +<p>“I telegraphed him, telling him the situation and to put +a couple of members after the Chief. Then I came on +to New York in order to get Harrison. The two of us +leave for Chicago the first thing in the morning, if, in the +meantime, no word comes from Starkington that they +have got him.”</p> + +<p>“But you have exceeded your instructions,” Hall objected. +“I heard Drag—the Chief explicitly tell you +that Schwartz and Harrison were to assist, and that the +aid of the rest of the organization was to be called for +only after the three of you had failed, and failed for a +considerable time. You haven’t failed yet. You have +not even really begun.”</p> + +<p>“Evidently you know little about our system,” Haas<span class="pagenum" id="Page_67">67</span> +replied. “It has always been our custom when a chase +leads to other cities to call upon any of the members +who may be in those cities.”</p> + +<p>As Hall was about to speak, the deaf mute entered +with a telegram addressed to Dragomiloff. Hall opened +it and found it was from Starkington. He decoded it and +then read it aloud to Haas.</p> + +<div class="blockquot"> + +<p>“Has Haas gone crazy? Have received word from Haas that +you appointed him to execute you, that you are headed for +Chicago, and that I am to detail two members to fix you. +Haas has never lied before. He must be crazy. He may +prove dangerous. See to him.”</p> +</div> + +<p>“That is what Harrison said when I told him not an +hour ago,” was Haas’s comment. “But I do not lie, +and I am not crazy. You must fix this up, Mr. Hall.”</p> + +<p>Assisted by Haas, Hall composed a reply.</p> + +<div class="blockquot"> + +<p>“Haas is neither lunatic nor liar. What he says is correct. +Cooperate with him as requested.</p> + +<p class="right"> +Winter Hall, Temporary Secretary.” +</p> +</div> + +<p>“I’ll send it myself,” Haas said, as he rose to go.</p> + +<p>A few minutes later Hall was telephoning to Grunya +that her uncle was headed towards Chicago. This was +followed by an interview with Harrison, who came privily +to verify what Haas had told him, and who went away +convinced.</p> + +<p>Hall sat down alone to think things over. He glanced +about at the book-cluttered walls and table, and the old +feeling of unreality came over him. How could it be +possible that there was an Assassination Bureau composed +of ethical lunatics? And how could it be possible +that he, who had set out to destroy this Assassination +Bureau, was now actually managing it from its headquarters, +and directing the pursuit and probable killing +of the man who had created the Bureau, who was the<span class="pagenum" id="Page_68">68</span> +father of the woman he loved, and whom he wished to +save for his daughter’s sake—how could it be possible?</p> + +<p>And to prove that it was all true and real, a second +telegram arrived from the head of the Chicago branch.</p> + +<div class="blockquot"> + +<p class="ti">“Who in hell are you?” it demanded.</p> + +<p class="ti">“Temporary acting secretary appointed by the Chief,” was +Hall’s reply.</p> +</div> + +<p>Hall was awakened from sleep several hours later by a +third Chicago telegram.</p> + +<div class="blockquot"> + +<p>“Everything too irregular. Decline further communication +with you. Where is the Chief?</p> + +<p class="right"> +Starkington.” +</p> + +<p>“Chief gone to Chicago. Watch incoming trains and get him +to verify instructions to Haas. I don’t care if you never communicate.”</p> +</div> + +<p>Hall flashed back.</p> + +<p>By noon of next day Starkington’s messages began +to arrive thick and fast.</p> + +<div class="blockquot"> + +<p>“Have met Chief. He verifies everything. Accept my apology. +He broke my arm and got away. Have commissioned +the four Chicago members to get him.”</p> + +<p>“Schwartz has just arrived.”</p> + +<p>“Think Chief may head west. Am wiring St. Louis, Denver, +and San Francisco to watch for him. This may prove expensive. +Forward money for contingencies.”</p> + +<p>“Dempsey has three broken ribs and right arm paralyzed. +Paralysis not permanent. Chief got away.”</p> + +<p>“Chief is still in Chicago but cannot locate him.”</p> + +<p>“St. Louis, Denver, and San Francisco have replied. They +tell me I am crazy. Will you please verify?”</p> +</div> + +<p>This last wire had been preceded by messages from the +three mentioned cities, all incredulous of Starkington’s +sanity, and Hall had replied to them as he originally replied +to Starkington.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_69">69</span></p> + +<p>It was while this muddle was pending that Hall, struck +by an idea, sent a long telegram to Starkington and made +a still greater muddle.</p> + +<div class="blockquot"> + +<p>“Stop pursuit of Chief. Call a conference of Chicago members +and consider following proposition. Judgment of execution +of Chief irregular. Chief passed judgment on himself. +Why? He must be crazy. It will not be right to kill one +who has done no wrong. What wrong has Chief done? +Where is your sanction?”</p> +</div> + +<p>That this was a poser, and that it stopped Chicago’s +hand, was proved by the reply.</p> + +<div class="blockquot"> + +<p>“Have talked it over. You are right. Chief’s judgment on +self invalid. Chief has done no wrong. Shall leave him +alone. Dempsey’s arm is better. All are agreed that Chief +must be crazy.”</p> +</div> + +<p>Hall was jubilant. He had played these ethical madmen +to the top of their madness. Dragomiloff was safe. +That evening he took Grunya to the theatre and to supper +and encouraged her with sanguine hopes for her uncle. +But on his return home he found a sheaf of telegrams +awaiting him.</p> + +<div class="blockquot"> + +<p>“Have received wire from Chicago calling off Chief deal. +Your last wire contradicts this. What are we to conclude?</p> + +<p class="right"> +St. Louis.” +</p> + +<p>“Chicago now cancels orders against Chief. By our rules no +order ever canceled. What is the matter?</p> + +<p class="right"> +Denver.” +</p> + +<p>“Where is Chief? Why doesn’t he communicate with us? +Chicago by latest wire has receded from earlier position. Is +everybody crazy? Or is it a joke?</p> + +<p class="right"> +San Francisco.” +</p> + +<p>“Chief still in Chicago. Met Carthey on State Street. Tried +to entice Carthey into following him. Then followed Carthey +and reproached him. Carthey said nothing doing. Chief +very angry. Insists killing order be carried out.</p> + +<p class="right"> +Starkington.” +</p> +</div> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_70">70</span></p> + +<div class="blockquot"> + +<p>“Chief encountered Carthey later. Committed unprovoked +assault on Carthey. Carthey not injured.</p> + +<p class="right"> +Starkington.” +</p> + +<p>“Chief called on me. Upbraided me bitterly. Told him +your message had changed our minds. Chief furious. Is he +crazy?</p> + +<p class="right"> +Starkington.” +</p> + +<p>“Your interference is spoiling everything. What right have +you to interfere? This must be rectified. What are you +trying to do? Reply.</p> + +<p class="right"> +Drago.” +</p> + +<p>“Trying to do the right thing. You cannot violate your own +rules. Members have no sanction to perform act.”</p> +</div> + +<p class="in0">was Hall’s reply.</p> + +<div class="blockquot"> + +<p>“Bosh.”</p> +</div> + +<p class="in0">was Dragomiloff’s last word for the night.</p> +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> + +<div class="chapter"> +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_71">71</span></p> + +<h2 class="nobreak" id="Chapter_VIII"><i>Chapter VIII</i></h2> +</div> + +<p>It was not till eleven on the following morning that +Hall received word of Dragomiloff’s next play. It came +from the Chief himself.</p> + +<div class="blockquot"> + +<p>“Have sent this message to all branches. Have given it in +person to Chicago branch which will verify. I believe that +our organization is wrong. I believe all its work has been +wrong. I believe every member, wittingly or not, to be +wrong. Consider this your sanction and do your duty.”</p> +</div> + +<p>Soon the verdicts of the branches began to pour in +on Hall, who smiled as he forwarded them to Dragomiloff. +One and all were agreed that no reason had been +advanced for taking the Chief’s life.</p> + +<div class="blockquot"> + +<p>“A belief is not a sin,” said New Orleans.</p> + +<p>“It is not incorrectness of a belief but insincerity of a belief +that makes a crime,” was Boston’s contribution to the symposium.</p> + +<p>“Chief’s honest belief is no wrong,” concluded St. Louis.</p> + +<p>“Ethical disagreement does not constitute any sanction whatever,” +announced Denver.</p> + +<p>While San Francisco flippantly remarked, “The only thing for +the Chief to do is to retire from control or forget it.”</p> +</div> + +<p>Dragomiloff replied by sending out another general +message. It ran:</p> + +<div class="blockquot"> + +<p>“My belief is about to take form of deeds. Believing organization +to be wrong, I shall stamp out organization. I shall<span class="pagenum" id="Page_72">72</span> +personally destroy members, and if necessary shall have recourse +to the police. Chicago will verify this to all branches. +I shall shortly afford even stronger sanction for branches to +proceed against me.”</p> +</div> + +<p>Hall waited for the replies with keen interest, confessing +to himself his inability to forecast what this society +of righteous madmen would conclude next. It turned +out to be a division of opinion. Thus San Francisco:</p> + +<div class="blockquot"> + +<p>“Sanction O.K. Await instructions.”</p> +</div> + +<p>Denver advised:</p> + +<div class="blockquot"> + +<p>“Recommend Chicago branch examine Chief’s sanity. We +have good sanatoriums up here.”</p> +</div> + +<p>New Orleans complained:</p> + +<div class="blockquot"> + +<p>“Is everybody crazy? We are without sufficient data. Will +somebody straighten this matter out?”</p> +</div> + +<p>Said Boston:</p> + +<div class="blockquot"> + +<p>“In this crisis we must keep our heads. Perhaps Chief is ill. +This must be ascertained satisfactorily before any decision is +reached.”</p> +</div> + +<p>It was after this that Starkington wired to suggest that +Haas, Schwartz, and Harrison be returned to New York. +To this Hall agreed, but hardly had he got the telegram +off, when a later one from Starkington changed the +complexion of the situation.</p> + +<div class="blockquot"> + +<p>“Carthey has just been murdered. Police looking for slayer +but have no clues. It is our belief that Chief is responsible. +Please forward to all branches.”</p> +</div> + +<p>Hall, as the focal communicating point of the branches, +was now fairly swamped in a sea of telegrams. Twenty-four +hours later Chicago had even more startling information.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_73">73</span></p> + +<div class="blockquot"> + +<p>“Schwartz throttled at three this afternoon. There is no +doubt this time of Chief. Police are pursuing him. So are +we. Has dropped from sight. All branches be on the lookout. +It means trouble. Am proceeding without sanction of +branches, but should like same.”</p> +</div> + +<p>And promptly the sanctions poured in on Hall. +Dragomiloff had achieved his purpose. At last the +ethical madmen were aroused and after him.</p> + +<p>Hall himself was in a quandary, and cursed his ethical +nature that made him value a promise. He was convinced, +now, that Dragomiloff was really a lunatic, having +burst forth from his quiet book-and-business life +and become a homicidal maniac. That he had promised +a maniac various things brought up the question whether +or not, ethically, he was justified in breaking those promises. +His common sense told him that he was justified—justified +in informing the police, justified in bringing +about the arrests of all the members of the Assassination +Bureau, justified in anything that promised to put a stop +to the orgy of killing that seemed impending. But above +his common sense was his ethics, and at times he was +convinced that he was as mad as any of the madmen with +whom he dealt.</p> + +<p>To add to his perplexity, Grunya, who managed to get +his address from the telephone number he had given her, +paid him a call.</p> + +<p>“I have come to say goodbye,” was her introduction. +“What comfortable rooms you have. And what a curious +servant. He never spoke a word to me.”</p> + +<p>“Goodbye?” Hall queried. “Are you going back to +Edge Moor?”</p> + +<p>She shook her head and smiled airily.</p> + +<p>“No; Chicago. I am going to find Uncle, and to help +him if I can. What last word have you received? Is +he still in Chicago?”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_74">74</span></p> + +<p>“By the last word....” Hall hesitated. “Yes, by the +last word he had not left Chicago. But you can’t be of +any help, and it is unwise of you to go.”</p> + +<p>“I’m going just the same.”</p> + +<p>“Let me advise you, dear.”</p> + +<p>“Not until the year is up—except in business matters. +In fact I came to turn my little affairs over to you. I go +on the Twentieth Century this afternoon.”</p> + +<p>Argument with Grunya was useless, but Hall was too +sensible to quarrel, and parted from her in appropriate +lover fashion, remaining in the headquarters of the +Assassination Bureau to manage its lunatic affairs.</p> + +<p>Nothing happened of moment for another twenty-four +hours. Then it came, an avalanche of messages, precipitated +by one from Starkington.</p> + +<div class="blockquot"> + +<p>“Chief still here. Broke Harrison’s neck today. Police do +not connect case with Schwartz. Please call for help on all +branches.”</p> +</div> + +<p>Hall sent out this general call, and an hour later received +the following from Starkington:</p> + +<div class="blockquot"> + +<p>“Broke into hospital and killed Dempsey. Has definitely left +city. Haas in pursuit. St. Louis take warning.”</p> + +<p>“Rastenaff and Pillsworthy start immediately,” Boston informed +Hall.</p> + +<p>“Lucoville has been dispatched to Chicago,” said New Orleans.</p> + +<p>“Not sending anybody. Are waiting for Chief to arrive,” +St. Louis advised.</p> +</div> + +<p>And then Grunya’s Chicago wail:</p> + +<div class="blockquot"> + +<p>“Have you any later news?”</p> +</div> + +<p>He did not answer this, but very shortly received a +second from her.</p> + +<div class="blockquot"> + +<p>“Do please help me if you have heard.”</p> +</div> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_75">75</span></p> + +<p>Hall replied:</p> + +<div class="blockquot"> + +<p>“Has left Chicago. Probably heading towards St. Louis. +Let me join you.”</p> +</div> + +<p>And to this, in turn, he received no answer, and was +left to contemplate the flight of the Chief of the Assassins, +pursued by his daughter and the assassins of four +cities, and heading towards the nest of assassins waiting +in St. Louis.</p> + +<p>Another day went by, and another. The van of +pursuers arrived in St. Louis, but there was no sign of +Dragomiloff. Haas was reported missing. Grunya +could find no trace of her uncle. Only the head of the +branch remained in Boston, and he informed Hall that +he would follow if anything further happened. In +Chicago there was left only Starkington with his broken +arm.</p> + +<p>But at the end of another forty-eight hours, Dragomiloff +struck again. Rastenaff and Pillsworthy had +arrived in St. Louis in the early morning. Each, perforated +by a small-calibre bullet, had been carried from +his Pullman berth by men sent from the coroner’s office. +The two St. Louis members were likewise dead. The +head of that branch, the only survivor, sent the information. +Haas had reappeared, but no explanation of his +four days’ disappearance was vouchsafed. Dragomiloff +had again dropped out of sight. Grunya was inconsolable +and bombarded Hall with telegrams. The head of +the Boston branch sent word that he had started. And +so did Starkington, despite his injury. San Francisco +was of the opinion that Denver would be the Chief’s next +point, and sent two men there to reinforce; while Denver, +of the same opinion, kept her two men in readiness.</p> + +<p>All this made big inroads on the emergency fund of +the Bureau, and it was with satisfaction that Hall, adhering<span class="pagenum" id="Page_76">76</span> +to his instructions, wired sum after sum of money +to the different men. If the pace were kept up, he decided, +the Bureau would be bankrupt before the end of +the year.</p> + +<p>And then came a slack period. All members having +gone to the West, and being in touch with each other +there, nothing was left for Hall to do. He endured the +suspense and idleness for a day or so; then, making +financial arrangements and arranging with the deaf mute +for the forwarding of telegrams, he closed up the headquarters +of the Bureau and bought a ticket for St. Louis.</p> +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> + +<div class="chapter"> +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_77">77</span></p> + +<h2 class="nobreak" id="Chapter_IX"><i>Chapter IX</i></h2> +</div> + +<p>In St. Louis, Hall found no change in the situation. +Dragomiloff had not reappeared and everybody was waiting +for something to happen. Hall attended a conference +at Murgweather’s house. Murgweather was the +head of the St. Louis branch, and lived with his family in +a comfortable suburban bungalow. All were gathered +when Hall arrived, and he immediately recognized Haas, +the lean flame of a man, and Starkington he knew by the +arm in splints and sling.</p> + +<p>“Who is the man?” demanded Lucoville, the New +Orleans member, when Hall was being introduced.</p> + +<p>“Temporary Secretary of the Bureau,” Murgweather +started to explain.</p> + +<p>“It is entirely too irregular to suit me,” Lucoville +snapped back. “He is not one of us. He has killed +no man. He has passed no test of the organization. +Not only is his appearance among us unprecedented, but +for men who pursue such a hazardous vocation as ours +his presence is a menace. And in connection with this, +I wish to point out two things. First, by reputation he +is known to all of us. I have nothing derogatory to say +about his work in the world. I have read his books with +interest, and, I may add, profit. His contributions to +sociology have been distinct and distinctive. On the +other hand, though, he is a socialist. He is called the +‘Millionaire Socialist.’ What does that mean? It<span class="pagenum" id="Page_78">78</span> +means that he is out of touch with us and our principles +of conduct. It means that he is a blind creature of Law. +Law is his fetish. He grovels in the mire of ignorance +and worships Law. To him, we, who are above the +Law, are arch-offenders against the Law. Therefore, +his presence bodes no good for us. He is bound to destroy +us for the sake of his fetish. This is only in the +nature of things. This is the dictate of both his personal +and his philosophical temperament.</p> + +<p>“And secondly, notice that of all times, it is in this +time of crisis to the organization that he has chosen to +intrude. Who has vouched for him? Who has admitted +him to our secrets? Only one man, and that man +the Chief, the one who is now bent on destroying us, +who has already killed six of our members and who +threatens to expose us to the police. This looks bad, +very bad, for him and us. He is the enemy within our +ranks. It is my suggestion that we put him <span class="locked">away—”</span></p> + +<p>“Pardon me, my dear Lucoville,” Murgweather interrupted. +“This discussion is out of order. Mr. Hall is +my guest.”</p> + +<p>“All our heads are in the noose,” retorted the member +from New Orleans. “And guest or no guest, this is no +time for social amenities. The man is a spy. He is +bent on destroying us. I charge him with it in his presence. +What has he to say?”</p> + +<p>Hall glanced around at the circle of suspicious faces, +and, with the exception of Lucoville, he noted that none +was angry. In truth, he decided, they were mad philosophers.</p> + +<p>Murgweather made a vain effort to interpose, but was +overruled.</p> + +<p>“What have you to say, Mr. Hall?” Hanover, the head +of the Boston branch, demanded.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_79">79</span></p> + +<p>“If I may sit down, I shall be glad to reply,” was Hall’s +answer.</p> + +<p>Apologies were rendered all around, and he was ensconced +in a big armchair that was drawn up to form one +of the circle.</p> + +<p>“My reply, like the charges, will be under two heads,” +he began. “In the first place, I <em>am</em> bent on destroying +your organization.”</p> + +<p>This declaration was received in courteous silence, +and the thought came into Hall’s mind that as philosophers +and madmen they were certainly consistent. Emotion +of every sort was absent from their faces. They +waited at scholarly attention for the rest of his discourse. +Even Lucoville’s flash of anger had been momentary, and +he now sat as composed as the rest.</p> + +<p>“Why I am bent on destroying your organization is +too big a subject to open at this moment,” Hall continued. +“I may say, in passing, that it is I who am responsible for +your Chief’s changed conduct. When I discovered what +an extreme ethicist he was, and each of the rest of you, +I gave him fifty thousand dollars to accept a commission +against himself. I furnished him with a sanction, ethical, +of course, and the execution of the commission he turned +over to Mr. Haas in my presence. Am I right, Mr. +Haas?”</p> + +<p>“You are.”</p> + +<p>“And in my presence, the Chief informed you of my +secretaryship. Am I right?”</p> + +<p>“You are.”</p> + +<p>“Now I come to the second head. Why did the Chief +trust me with the headquarters management of the +Bureau? The answer is simply and directly to the point. +He knew that I was at least halfway as ethically mad as the +rest of you. He knew that it was impossible for me to<span class="pagenum" id="Page_80">80</span> +break my word. This I have proved by my subsequent +actions. I have done my best to fulfill the office of acting +secretary. I have forwarded all telegrams, general +calls, and orders. I have granted all requests for funds. +I shall continue to do as I have agreed, though I hold in +detestation and horror, ethically, all that you stand for. +I am doing what I believe to be right. Am I right?”</p> + +<p>The pause that followed was very slight. Lucoville +arose, walked over to him, and gravely extended his hand. +The others did the same. Then Starkington preferred a +request that adequate provision be made from the funds +of the Bureau for the support of Dempsey’s widow and of +Harrison’s widow and children. There was little discussion, +and when the sums were decided upon, Hall +wrote the checks and turned them over to Murgweather +to be forwarded.</p> + +<p>The question next taken up was that of the crisis and of +how best to cope with the recreant Chief. In this Hall +took no part, so that, lying back in his chair, he was able +to observe and study these curious madmen. There +were seven of them, and, with the exceptions of Haas and +Lucoville, they had all the appearance of middle-aged, +middle-class, scholarly gentlemen. He could not bring +himself to realize that they were cold-blooded murderers, +assassins for hire. And by the same token, it was incredible +that they who were so calm should be the survivors +of the deadly war that was being waged against +them. Half of their number were already dead. Hanover +was the sole survivor of Boston, Haas of New York, +Starkington of Chicago, and their genial and bewhiskered +host, Murgweather, of St. Louis.</p> + +<p>“I enjoyed your last book,” Hall’s host leaned over and +whispered to him in an interval. “Your argument for +organization by industry as against organization by craft +was unimpeachable. But to my notion, your exposition<span class="pagenum" id="Page_81">81</span> +of the law of diminishing returns was rather lame. I +have a bone to pick with you there.”</p> + +<p>And this man was an assassin!—all these men were +assassins! Hall could believe only by accepting them +as lunatics. And going into town on the electric car +after the meeting, he sat and talked with Haas, and was astounded +to find him an ex-professor of Greek and Hebrew. +Lucoville proved to be an expert in Oriental research. +Hanover, he learned, had once been headmaster of one of +the most select New England academies, while Starkington +turned out to be an ex-newspaper editor of no mean +reputation.</p> + +<p>“But why have you, for instance, gone in for this mode +of life?” Hall asked.</p> + +<p>They were sitting on the outside of the car, which had +arrived in the hotel district. The theatres were just +letting out, and the sidewalks were crowded.</p> + +<p>“Because it is right,” Haas answered, “and because it +is a better means of livelihood than Greek and Hebrew. +If I had my life all over <span class="locked">again—”</span></p> + +<p>But Hall was never to hear the end of that sentence. +The car was stopped at a crossing for a moment, and +Haas was suddenly electrified by something he had seen. +With a flash of eye, and without a word or motion of +farewell, he sprang from the car and was lost to view in +the moving crowd.</p> + +<p>Next morning Hall understood. In the paper was a +sensational account of a mysterious attempt at murder. +Haas was lying at the receiving hospital with a perforated +lung. The doctors’ examination showed that he owed his +life to an abnormal, misplaced heart. Had his heart been +where it ought to have been, said the report, the bullet or +missile would have passed through it. But this did not +constitute the mystery. No one had heard the shot fired. +Haas had suddenly slumped in the midst of a thick crowd.<span class="pagenum" id="Page_82">82</span> +A woman, pressed against him in the jam, testified that at +the moment before he fell she heard a faint, though sharp, +metallic click. A man, in front of him, thought he had +heard the click but was not sure.</p> + +<p>“The police are mystified,” the newspaper said. “The +victim, a stranger in the city, is equally mystified. He +claims to know of no person or persons who might be +liable to seek his life. Nor does he remember having +heard the click. He was aware only of a violent impact +as the strange missile entered. Sergeant of Detectives +O’Connell believes the weapon to have been an air-rifle, +but this is denied by Chief of Detectives Randall, who +claims to know air-rifles, and who denies that such a weapon +could be utilized unseen in a dense crowd.”</p> + +<p>“It was the Chief without doubt,” Murgweather was +assuring Hall a few minutes later. “He is still in town. +Will you please inform Denver, San Francisco, and New +Orleans of the event? The weapon is the Chief’s own +invention. Several times he has loaned it to Harrison, +who always returned it after using. The compressed-air +chamber is strapped on the body under the arm or wherever +is most convenient. The discharging mechanism is +no larger than a toy pistol, and can be readily concealed +in the hand. We must be very careful from now on.”</p> + +<p>“I am in no danger,” Hall answered. “I am only +Temporary Secretary, and am not a member.”</p> + +<p>“I am glad that Haas will recover,” Murgweather +said. “He is a very estimable man and a scholar. I +have the keenest appreciation of his intellect, though he +is prone to be too serious at times, and, I fear me, finds a +certain pleasure in taking human life.”</p> + +<p>“Don’t you?” Hall asked quickly.</p> + +<p>“No, and no other one of us, with the exception of +Haas. He has the temperament for it. Believe me, Mr. +Hall, though I have faithfully performed my tasks for the<span class="pagenum" id="Page_83">83</span> +Bureau, and despite my ethical convictions as to the +righteousness of the acts, I never put through an execution +without qualms of the flesh. I know it is foolish, +but I cannot overcome it. Why, I was positively nauseated +by my first affair. I have written a monograph +upon the subject, not for publication, of course, but it +is a very interesting field of study. If you care to, I shall +be glad for you to come out to the house some evening +and glance over what I have written.”</p> + +<p>“Thank you, I shall.”</p> + +<p>“It is a curious problem,” Murgweather continued. +“The sacredness of human life is a social concept. The +primitive natural man never had any qualms about killing +his fellow man. Theoretically, I should have none. Yet +I do have. The question is: how do they arise? Has the +long evolution to civilization impressed this concept into +the cerebral cells of the race? Or is it due to my training +in childhood and adolescence, before I became an +emancipated thinker? Or may it not be due to both +causes? It is very curious.”</p> + +<p>“I am sure it is,” Hall answered dryly. “But what are +you going to do about the Chief?”</p> + +<p>“Kill him. It is all we can do, and we certainly must +assert our right to live. The situation is a new one to us, +however. Hitherto, the men we destroyed were unaware +of their danger. Also, they never pursued us. But the +Chief does know our intention, and, furthermore, he is +destroying us. We have never been hunted before. He +has certainly been more fortunate than we. But I must +be going. I agreed to meet Hanover at quarter past.”</p> + +<p>“But aren’t you afraid?” Hall asked.</p> + +<p>“Of what?”</p> + +<p>“Of the Chief killing you?”</p> + +<p>“No; it won’t matter much. You see, I am well insured, +and in my own experience I have exploded one<span class="pagenum" id="Page_84">84</span> +generally accepted notion, namely, that the man who has +taken many lives is, by those very acts, made more afraid +himself to die. This is not true. I have demonstrated +it. The more I have administered death to others—eighteen +times, by my count—the easier death has +seemed to me. Those very qualms I spoke of are the +qualms of life. They belong to life, not to death. I +have written a few detached thoughts on the subject. If +you care to glance at them....”</p> + +<p>“Yes, indeed,” Hall assured him.</p> + +<p>“This evening, then. Say at eleven. If I am detained +by this affair, ask to be shown into my study. I’ll lay +the manuscript, and that of the monograph, too, on the +reading table for you. I’d prefer to read them aloud +and discuss them with you, but if I can’t be there, jot down +any notes of criticism that may come to you.”</p> +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> + +<div class="chapter"> +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_85">85</span></p> + +<h2 class="nobreak" id="Chapter_X"><i>Chapter X</i></h2> +</div> + +<p>“I know there is much you are concealing from me, +and I cannot understand why. Surely, you are not unwilling +to aid me in saving Uncle Sergius?”</p> + +<p>Grunya’s last sentence was uttered pleadingly, and her +eyes were warm with the golden glow that for this once +failed to reach Hall’s heart.</p> + +<p>“Uncle Sergius doesn’t seem to need much saving,” +he muttered grimly.</p> + +<p>“Now just what do you mean?” she cried, quickly +suspicious.</p> + +<p>“Nothing, nothing, I assure you, except merely that he +has escaped so far.”</p> + +<p>“But how do you know he has escaped?” she insisted. +“May he not be dead? He has not been heard of since +he left Chicago. How do you know but what those +brutes have killed him?”</p> + +<p>“He has been seen here in St. <span class="locked">Louis—”</span></p> + +<p>“There!” she interrupted excitedly. “I knew you were +keeping things from me! Now, honestly, aren’t you?”</p> + +<p>“I am,” Hall confessed. “But by your uncle’s own +instructions. Believe me, you cannot be of the least +assistance to him. You can’t even find him. It would +be wise for you to return to New York.”</p> + +<p>For an hour longer she catechized him and he wasted +advice on her, and they parted in mutual irritation.</p> + +<p>Promptly at eleven, Hall rang the bell at Murgweather’s<span class="pagenum" id="Page_86">86</span> +bungalow. A little sleepy-eyed maidservant of +fourteen or fifteen, apparently aroused from bed, admitted +and led him to Murgweather’s study.</p> + +<p>“He’s in there,” she said, pushing open the door and +leaving him.</p> + +<p>At the further side of the room, seated at the table, +partly in the light of a reading lamp, but more in shadow, +was Murgweather. His crossed arms rested on the +table, and on them rested his bowed head. Evidently +asleep, Hall concluded, as he crossed over. He spoke +to him, then touched him on the shoulder, but there was +no response. He felt the genial assassin’s hand and +found it cold. A stain upon the floor, and a perforation +of the reading jacket beneath the shoulder, told the story. +Murgweather’s heart had been in the right place. An +open window, directly behind, showed how the deed had +been accomplished.</p> + +<p>Hall drew the heap of manuscript from beneath the +dead man’s arms. He had been killed as he pored +over what he had written. “Some Casual Thoughts on +Death,” Hall read the title, then searched on till he found +the monograph, “A Tentative Explanation of Certain +Curious Psychological Traits.”</p> + +<p>It would never do for Murgweather’s family if such +damning evidence were found with the corpse, was Hall’s +decision. He burned them in the fireplace, turned down +the lamp, and crept softly out of the house.</p> + +<p>Early the following morning, the news was broken to +him in his room by Starkington, but it was not until +afternoon that the papers published the account. Hall +was frightened. The little maidservant had been interviewed, +and that she had used her sleepy eyes to some purpose +was shown by the excellence of the description she +gave of the visitor she had admitted at eleven o’clock the<span class="pagenum" id="Page_87">87</span> +previous night. The detail she gave was almost photographic. +Hall got up abruptly and looked at himself in +the glass. There was no mistaking it. The reflection he +saw was precisely that of the man for whom the police +were searching. Even to the scarf-pin, he was that man.</p> + +<p>He made a hurried rummage of his luggage and arrayed +himself as dissimilarly as possible. Then, dodging +into a taxi from the side entrance of the hotel, he made +the round of the shops, from headgear to footgear purchasing +a new outfit.</p> + +<p>Back at the hotel, he found he had just time to catch +a westbound train. Fortunately, he was able to get +Grunya to the telephone, so as to tell her of his departure. +Also, he took the liberty of guessing that Dragomiloff’s +next appearance would be in Denver, and he advised her +to follow on.</p> + +<p>Once on the train and out of the city, he breathed more +easily, and was able more calmly to consider the situation. +He, too, he decided, was on the adventure path, +and a madly tangled path it was. Starting out with the +intention of running down the Assassination Bureau and +destroying it, he had fallen in love with the daughter +of its organizer, become Temporary Secretary of the +Bureau, and was now being sought by the police for the +murder of one of the members who had been killed by +the Chief of the Bureau. “No more practical sociology +for me,” he said to himself. “When I get out of this I shall +confine myself to theory. Closet sociology from now +on.”</p> + +<p>At the depot in Denver, he was greeted sadly by Harkins, +the head of the local branch. Not until they were +in a machine and whirling uptown did the cause of +Harkins’s sadness come out.</p> + +<p>“Why didn’t you warn us?” he said reproachfully.<span class="pagenum" id="Page_88">88</span> +“You let him give you the slip, and we were so certain +that his account would be settled in St. Louis that we were +not prepared.”</p> + +<p>“He has arrived, then?”</p> + +<p>“Arrived? Gracious! The first we knew, two of +us were done for—Bostwick, who was like a brother to +me, and Calkins, of San Francisco. And now Harding, +the other San Francisco man, has dropped from sight. +It is terrible.” He paused and shuddered. “I parted +from Bostwick not more than fifteen minutes before it +happened. He was so bright and cheerful. And now +his little love-saturated home! His dear wife is inconsolable.”</p> + +<p>Tears ran down Harkins’s cheeks, so blinding him that +he slowed the pace of the machine. Hall was curious. +Here was a new type of madman, a sentimental assassin.</p> + +<p>“But why should it be terrible?” he queried. “You +have dealt death to others. It is the same phenomenon +in all cases.”</p> + +<p>“But this is different. He was my friend, my comrade.”</p> + +<p>“Possibly others that you have killed had friends and +comrades.”</p> + +<p>“But if you could have seen him in his little home,” +Harkins maundered on. “He was a model husband and +father. He was a good man, an excellently good man, a +saint, so considerate that he would not harm a fly.”</p> + +<p>“But what happened to him was only what he had made +happen to others,” Hall objected.</p> + +<p>“No, no; it is different!” the other cried passionately. +“If you had only known him. To know him was to love +him. Everybody loved him.”</p> + +<p>“Undoubtedly his victims as well?”</p> + +<p>“Aye, had they had the opportunity they could not +have helped loving him,” Harkins proclaimed vehemently. +“If you only knew the good he has done and was continually<span class="pagenum" id="Page_89">89</span> +doing. His four-footed friends loved him. The +very flowers loved him. He was president of the Humane +Society. He was the strongest worker among the +anti-vivisectionists. He was in himself a whole society +for the prevention of cruelty to animals.”</p> + +<p>“Bostwick ... Charles N. Bostwick,” Hall murmured. +“Yes, I remember. I have noticed some of his magazine +articles.”</p> + +<p>“Who does not know him?” Harkins broke in ecstatically, +and broke off long enough to blow his nose. “He +was a great power for good, a great power for good. I +would gladly change places with him right now, to have +him back in the world.”</p> + +<p>Nevertheless, outside of his love for Bostwick, Hall +found Harkins to be a keen, intelligent man. He stopped +the machine at a telegraph office.</p> + +<p>“I told them to hold any messages for me this morning,” +he explained as he got out.</p> + +<p>In a minute he was back, and together, with the aid of +the cipher, they translated the telegram he had received. +It was from Harding, and had been sent from Ogden.</p> + +<p>“Westbound,” it ran. “Chief on board. Am waiting +opportunity. Shall succeed.”</p> + +<p>“He won’t,” Hall volunteered. “The Chief will get +Harding.”</p> + +<p>“Harding is a strong and alert man,” Harkins affirmed.</p> + +<p>“I tell you, you fellows don’t realize what you’re up +against.”</p> + +<p>“We realize that the life of the organization is at stake, +and that we must deal with a recreant Chief.”</p> + +<p>“If you thoroughly realized the situation you’d head +for tall timber and climb a tree and let the organization +go smash.”</p> + +<p>“But that would be wrong,” Harkins protested gravely.</p> + +<p>Hall threw up his hands in despair.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_90">90</span></p> + +<p>“To make it doubly sure,” the other continued, “I +shall immediately tell the comrades at St. Louis to come +on. If Harding <span class="locked">fails—”</span></p> + +<p>“Which he will.”</p> + +<p>“We’ll proceed to San Francisco. In the <span class="locked">meantime—”</span></p> + +<p>“In the meantime, you’ll please run me back to the +depot,” Hall interrupted, glancing at his watch. “There’s +a westbound train due. I’ll meet you in San Francisco, +at the St. Francis Hotel, if you don’t meet the Chief first. +If you do meet him first ... well, it’s goodbye now and +for good.”</p> + +<p>Before the train started, Hall had time to write a note +to Grunya, which Harkins was to deliver to her on the +train. The note informed her of her uncle’s continued +westward flight and advised her, when she got to San +Francisco, to register at the Fairmount Hotel.</p> +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> + +<div class="chapter"> +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_91">91</span></p> + +<h2 class="nobreak" id="Chapter_XI"><i>Chapter XI</i></h2> +</div> + +<p>At Reno, Nevada, a dispatch was delivered to Hall. +It was from the sentimental Denver assassin.</p> + +<div class="blockquot"> + +<p>“Man ground to pieces at Winnemucca. Must be Chief. +Return at once. Members all arriving Denver. We must +reorganize.”</p> +</div> + +<p>But Hall grinned and remained on his westbound train. +The reply he wired was:</p> + +<div class="blockquot"> + +<p>“Better identify. Did you deliver letter to lady?”</p> +</div> + +<p>Three days later, at the St. Francis Hotel, Hall heard +again from the manager of the Denver Bureau. This +wire was from Winnemucca, Nevada.</p> + +<div class="blockquot"> + +<p>“My mistake. It was Harding. Chief surely heading for +San Francisco. Inform local branch. Am following. Delivered +letter. Lady remained on train.”</p> +</div> + +<p>But no trace of Grunya could Hall find in San Francisco. +Nor could Breen and Alsworthy, the two local +members, help him. Hall even went over to Oakland +and ferreted out the sleeping car she had arrived in and +the Negro porter of the car. She had come to San Francisco +and promptly disappeared.</p> + +<p>The assassins began to string in—Hanover of Boston, +Haas, the hungry one with the misplaced heart, Starkington +of Chicago, Lucoville of New Orleans, John Gray +of New Orleans, and Harkins of Denver. With the two +San Francisco members there was a total of eight. They +were all that survived in the United States. As was well<span class="pagenum" id="Page_92">92</span> +known to them, Hall did not count. While Temporary +Secretary of the organization, disbursing its funds and +transmitting its telegrams, he was not one of them and +his life was not threatened by the mad leader.</p> + +<p>What convinced Hall that they were all madmen was +the uniform kindness with which they treated him and +the confidence they reposed in him. They knew him to +be the original cause of their troubles; they knew he was +bent upon the destruction of the Assassination Bureau +and that he had furnished the fifty thousand dollars for +the death of their Chief; and yet they gave Hall credit +for what he considered the rightness of his conduct and +for the particular streak of ethical madness that simmered +somewhere in his make-up and compelled him to +play fairly with them. He did not betray them. He +handled their funds honestly; and he performed satisfactorily +all the duties of Temporary Secretary.</p> + +<p>With the exception of Haas, who, despite his achievements +in Greek and Hebrew, was too kin to the tiger in +lust to kill, Hall could not help but like these learned lunatics +who had made a fetish of ethics and who took the lives +of fellow humans with the same coolness and directness +of purpose with which they solved problems in mathematics, +made translations of hieroglyphics, or carried through +chemical analyses in the test-tubes of their laboratories. +John Gray he liked most of all. A quiet Englishman, in +appearance and carriage a country squire, John Gray entertained +radical ideas concerning the function of the +drama. During the weeks of waiting, when there was no +sign of Dragomiloff or Grunya, Gray and Hall frequented +the theatres together, and to Hall their friendship proved a +liberal education. During this period, Lucoville became +immersed in basketry, devoting himself in particular to +the recurrent triple-fish design so common in the baskets +of the Ukiah Indians. Harkins painted water colors,<span class="pagenum" id="Page_93">93</span> +after the Japanese school, of leaves, mosses, grasses, and +ferns. Breen, a bacteriologist, continued his search of +years for the parasite of the corn-worm. Alsworthy’s +hobby was wireless telephony, and he and Breen divided +an attic laboratory between them. And Hanover, an +immediate patron of the city’s libraries, surrounded himself +with scientific books and worked at the fourteenth +chapter of a ponderous tome which he had entitled +<i>Physical Compulsions of the Aesthetics of Color</i>. He +put Hall to sleep one warm afternoon by reading to him +the first and thirteenth chapters.</p> + +<p>The two months of inaction would not have occurred, +and the assassins would have gone back to their home +cities, had it not been for the fact that they were baited +to remain by a weekly message from Dragomiloff. +Regularly, each Saturday night, Alsworthy was called up +by telephone, and over the wire heard the unmistakable +toneless and colorless voice of the Chief. He always +reiterated the one suggestion that the surviving members +of the Assassination Bureau disband the organization. +Hall, present at one of their councils, seconded the proposition. +The hearing they accorded him was out of +courtesy only, for he was not one of them; and he stood +alone in the opinion he expressed.</p> + +<p>As they saw it, there was no possible way by which +they could break their oaths. The rules of the Bureau +had never been broken. Even Dragomiloff had not +broken them. In strict accord with the rules he had +accepted Hall’s fee of fifty thousand dollars, judged himself +and his acts as socially hurtful, passed sentence on +himself, and selected Haas to execute the sentence. +Who were they, they demanded, that they should behave +less rightly than their Chief? To disband an organization +which they believed socially justifiable would be a +monstrous wrong. As Lucoville said, “It would stultify<span class="pagenum" id="Page_94">94</span> +all morality and place us on the level of the beasts. Are +we beasts?”</p> + +<p>And “No! No! No!” had been the passionate cries +of the members.</p> + +<p>“Madmen yourselves,” Hall called them. “As mad as +your Chief is mad.”</p> + +<p>“All moralists have been considered mad,” Breen retorted. +“Or, to be precise, have been considered mad by +the common ruck of their times. No moralist, unworthy +of contempt, can act contrary to his belief. All crucifixions +and martyrdoms have been gladly accepted by the +true moralists. It was the only way to give power to their +teaching. Faith! That’s it! And, as the slang of the +day goes, they delivered the goods. They had faith in +the right they envisioned. What is the life of man +compared with the living truth of the thought of man? +A vain thing is precept without example. Are we preceptors +who dare not be exemplars?”</p> + +<p>“No! No! No!” had been the chorus of approbation.</p> + +<p>“We dare not, as true thinkers and right-livers, by +thought, much less by deed, negate the high principles +we expound,” said Harkins.</p> + +<p>“Nor can we otherwise climb upwards towards the +light,” Hanover added.</p> + +<p>“We are not madmen,” Alsworthy cried. “We are men +who see clearly. We are high priests at the altar of right +conduct. As well call our good friend, Winter Hall, a +madman. If truth be mad, and we are touched by it, is +not Winter Hall likewise touched? He has called us +ethical lunatics. What else, then, has his conduct been +but ethical lunacy? Why has he not denounced us to +the police? Why does he, holding our views abhorrent, +continue to act as our Secretary? He is not even bound +by solemn contracts as we are. He merely bowed his +head and consented to do the several things requested of<span class="pagenum" id="Page_95">95</span> +him by our recreant Chief. He belongs to both sides in +the present controversy; the Chief trusts him; we trust +him; and he betrays neither one side nor the other. We +know and like him. I, for one, find but two things distasteful +in him: first, his sociology, and, second, his desire +to destroy our organization. But when it comes to +ethics he is as like us as a pea in a pod is to its fellows.”</p> + +<p>“I, too, am touched,” Hall murmured sadly. “I admit +it. I confess it. You are such likable lunatics, and I +am so weak, or strong, or foolish, or wise—I don’t know +what—that I cannot break my given word. All the +same, I wish I could bring you fellows to my way of thinking, +as I brought the Chief to my way of thinking.”</p> + +<p>“Oh, but did you?” Lucoville cried. “Why then did +the Chief not retire from the organization?”</p> + +<p>“Because he had accepted the fee I paid for his life,” +Hall answered.</p> + +<p>“And for the same reasons precisely are we plighted to +take his life,” Lucoville drove the point home. “Are we +less moral than our Chief? By our compacts, when the +Chief accepted the fee we were bound to carry into execution +his agreement with you. It mattered not what that +agreement might be. It chanced to be the Chief’s own +death.” He shrugged his shoulders. “What would you? +The Chief must die, else we are not exemplars of what +we believe to be right.”</p> + +<p>“There you go, always harking back to morality,” Hall +complained.</p> + +<p>“And why not?” Lucoville concluded grandly. “The +world is founded on morality. Without morality the +world would perish. There is a righteousness in the elements +themselves. Destroy morality and you would destroy +gravitation. The very rocks would fly apart. The +whole sidereal system would fume into the unthinkableness +of chaos.”</p> +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> + +<div class="chapter"> +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_96">96</span></p> + +<h2 class="nobreak" id="Chapter_XII"><i>Chapter XII</i></h2> +</div> + +<p>One evening, at the Poodle Dog Café, Hall waited +vainly for John Gray to join him at dinner. The theatre, +as usual, had been planned for afterwards. But John +Gray did not come, and by half past eight Hall returned +to the St. Francis Hotel, under his arm a bundle of current +magazines, intent on early to bed. There was something +familiar about the walk of the woman who preceded +him towards the elevator, and, with a quick intake of +breath, he hurried after.</p> + +<p>“Grunya,” he said softly, as the elevator started.</p> + +<p>In one instant she gave him a startled glance from +trouble-burdened eyes, and the next instant she had +caught his hand between both of hers and was clinging +to it as if for strength.</p> + +<p>“Oh, Winter,” she breathed. “Is it you? That is why +I came to the St. Francis. I thought I might find you. +I need you so. Uncle Sergius is mad, quite mad. He +ordered me to pack up for a long journey. We sail tomorrow. +He compelled me to leave the house and to +come to a downtown hotel, promising to join me later, or +to join me on the steamer tomorrow morning. I engaged +rooms for him. But something is going to happen. +He has some terrible plan in mind, I know. <span class="locked">He—”</span></p> + +<p>“What floor, sir?” the elevator operator interrupted.</p> + +<p>“Go down again,” Hall ordered, for there was no one +else in the car.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_97">97</span></p> + +<p>“Wait,” he cautioned. “We will go to the Palm Room +and talk.”</p> + +<p>“No, no,” she cried. “Let us get out on the street. I +want to walk. I want fresh air. I want to be able to +think. Do you think I am mad, Winter? Look at me. +Do I look it?”</p> + +<p>“Hush,” he commanded, pressing her arm. “Wait. +We will talk it over. Wait.”</p> + +<p>It was patent that she was in a state of high excitement, +and her effort to control herself on the down-trip of the +elevator was successful but pitiful.</p> + +<p>“Why didn’t you communicate with me?” he asked, +when they had gained the sidewalk and were walking to +the corner of Powell, where he intended directing their +course across Union Square. “What became of you +when you reached San Francisco? You received my +message at Denver. Why didn’t you come to the St. +Francis?”</p> + +<p>“I haven’t time to tell you,” she hurried on. “My head +is bursting. I don’t know what to believe. It seems all +a dream. Such things are not possible. Uncle’s mind is +deranged. Sometimes I am absolutely sure there is no +such things as the Assassination Bureau. It is an imagining +of Uncle Sergius. You, too, have imagined it. This +is the twentieth century. Such an awful thing cannot be. +I ... I sometimes wonder if I have had typhoid fever, or +if I am not even now in the delirium of fever, with nurses +and doctors around me, raving all this nightmare myself. +Tell me, tell me, are you, too, a sprite of fantasy—a vision +of a disease-stricken brain?”</p> + +<p>“No,” he said gravely and slowly. “You are awake +and well. You are yourself. You are now crossing +Powell Street with me. The pavement is slippery. Do +you not feel it underfoot? See those tire chains on that +motorcar. Your arm is in mine. This is a real fog drifting<span class="pagenum" id="Page_98">98</span> +across from the Pacific. Those are real people on +yonder benches. You see this beggar, asking me for +money. He is real. See, I give him a real half-dollar. +He will most likely spend it on real whiskey. I smelled +his breath. Did you? It was real, I assure you, very +real. And we are real. Please grasp that. Now, what +is your trouble? Tell me all.”</p> + +<p>“Is there truly an organization of assassins?”</p> + +<p>“Yes,” he answered.</p> + +<p>“How do you know? Is it not mere conjecture? May +you not be inoculated with uncle’s madness?”</p> + +<p>Hall shook his head sadly. “I wish I were. Unfortunately, +I know otherwise.”</p> + +<p>“How do you know?” she cried, pressing the fingers of +her free hand wildly to her temple.</p> + +<p>“Because I am Temporary Secretary of the Assassination +Bureau.”</p> + +<p>She recoiled from him, half withdrawing her arm from +his and being restrained only by a reassuring pressure on +his part.</p> + +<p>“You are one of the band of murderers that is trying +to kill Uncle Sergius!”</p> + +<p>“No; I am not one of the band. I merely have charge +of its funds. Has you—er—your Uncle Sergius told +you anything about the—er—the band?”</p> + +<p>“Oh, endless ravings. He is so deranged that he believes +that he organized it.”</p> + +<p>“He did,” Hall said firmly. “He is crazy, there is no +doubt of that; but nevertheless he made the Assassination +Bureau and directed it.”</p> + +<p>Again she recoiled and strove to withdraw her arm.</p> + +<p>“And will you next admit that it is you who paid the +Bureau fifty thousand dollars in advance for his death?” +she demanded.</p> + +<p>“It is true. I admit it.”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_99">99</span></p> + +<p>“How could you?” she moaned.</p> + +<p>“Listen, Grunya, dear,” he begged. “You have not +heard all. You do not understand. At the time I paid +the fee I did not know he was your <span class="locked">father—”</span></p> + +<p>He broke off abruptly, appalled at the slip he had +made.</p> + +<p>“Yes,” she said, with growing calmness, “he told me +he was my father, too. I took it for so much raving. +Go on.”</p> + +<p>“Well, then, I did not know he was your father; nor +did I know he was insane. Afterwards, when I learned, +I pleaded with him. But he is mad. So are they all, all +mad. And he is up to some new madness right now. +You dread that something is going to happen. Tell me +what are your suspicions. We may be able to prevent it.”</p> + +<p>“Listen!” She pressed close to him and spoke quickly +in a low, controlled voice. “There is much explanation +needed from both of us and to both of us. But first to the +danger. When I arrived in San Francisco, why I do not +know save that I had a presentiment, I went first to the +morgue, then I made the round of the hospitals. And I +found him, in the German Hospital, with two severe knife +wounds. He told me he had received them from one of +the assassins...”</p> + +<p>“A man named Harding,” Hall interrupted and guessed. +“It happened up on the Nevada desert, near Winnemucca, +on a railroad train.”</p> + +<p>“Yes, yes; that is the name. That is what he said.”</p> + +<p>“You see how everything dovetails,” Hall urged. +“There may be a great deal of madness in it, but the +madness even is real, and you and I, at any rate, are +sane.”</p> + +<p>“Yes, but let me hurry on.” She pressed his arm with +renewed confidence. “Oh, we have so much to tell each +other. Uncle swears by you. But that is not what I<span class="pagenum" id="Page_100">100</span> +want to say. I rented a furnished house, on the tip-top +of Rincon Hill, and as soon as the doctors permitted, I +moved Uncle Sergius to it. We’ve been keeping house +there for the last few weeks. Uncle is entirely recovered—or +Father, rather. He <em>is</em> my father. I believe that +now, for it seems I must believe everything. And I shall +believe ... unless I wake up and find it all a nightmare. +Now Un—Father has been tinkering about the house the +last few days. Today, with everything packed for our +voyage to Honolulu, he sent the luggage aboard the +steamer, and sent me to a hotel. Now I know nothing +about explosives, save glints and glimmerings from my +reading; but just the same I know he has mined the house. +He has dug up the cellar. He has opened the walls of +the big living room and closed them again. I know he +has run wires behind the partitions, and I know that today +he was making things ready to run a wire from the house +to a clump of shrubbery in the grounds near the gateway. +Possibly you may guess what he plans to do.”</p> + +<p>Hall was just remembering John Gray’s failure to keep +the theatre engagement.</p> + +<p>“Something is to happen there tonight,” Grunya went +on. “Uncle intends to join me later tonight at the St. +Francis, or tomorrow morning on the steamer. In the +<span class="locked">meantime—”</span></p> + +<p>But Hall, having reasoned his way to action, was urging +her by the arm, back out of the park to the corner where +stood the waiting row of taxicabs.</p> + +<p>“In the meantime,” he told her, “we must rush to Rincon +Hill. He is going to kill them. We must prevent it.”</p> + +<p>“If only he isn’t killed,” she murmured. “The cowards! +The cowards!”</p> + +<p>“Pardon me, dear, but they are not cowards. They are +brave men, and they are the most likable chaps, if a bit +peculiar, under the sun. To know them is to love them.<span class="pagenum" id="Page_101">101</span> +There has been too much killing already.”</p> + +<p>“They want to kill my father.”</p> + +<p>“And he wants to kill them,” Hall retorted. “Don’t +forget that. And it is by his order. He is as mad as a +hatter, and they are precisely as mad as so many more +hatters. Come! Quick, please! Quick! They are assembling +there now in the mined house. We may save +them—or him, who knows?”</p> + +<p>“Rincon Hill—time is money—you know what that +means,” he said to the taxi driver, as he helped Grunya in. +“Come on, now! Burn up that juice! Rip up the pavement, +anything you want, as long as you get us there!”</p> + +<p>Rincon Hill, once the aristocratic residence district of +San Francisco, lifts its head of decayed gentility from out +of the muck and ruck of the great labor ghetto that spreads +away south of Market Street. At the foot of the hill, Hall +paid off the cab, and he and Grunya began the easy climb. +Though it was still early in the evening, no more than +half past nine, few persons were afoot. Chancing to +glance back, Hall saw a familiar form pass across the circle +of light shed by a street lamp. He drew Grunya into +the house shadows of the side street and waited, and in a +few minutes was rewarded by seeing Haas go by, walking +in his peculiar, effortless, cat-like way. They continued +on, half a block behind him, and when, at the crest +of the hill, under the light from the next street lamp, they +saw him vault a low, old-fashioned iron fence, Grunya +nudged Hall’s arm significantly.</p> + +<p>“That is the house, our house,” she whispered. “Watch +him. Little he dreams he is going to his death.”</p> + +<p>“Little I dream he is either,” Hall whispered back skeptically. +“In my opinion Mr. Haas is a very difficult specimen +to kill.”</p> + +<p>“Uncle Sergius is very careful. I have never known +him to blunder. He has arranged everything, and when<span class="pagenum" id="Page_102">102</span> +your Mr. Haas goes through that front <span class="locked">door—”</span></p> + +<p>She broke off. Hall had gripped her arm savagely.</p> + +<p>“He’s not going through that front door, Grunya. +Watch him. He’s prowling to the rear.”</p> + +<p>“There is no rear,” she said. “The hill falls away in a +bulkhead down to the next back yard, forty feet below. +He’ll prowl back to the front. The garden is very small.”</p> + +<p>“He’s up to something,” Hall muttered, as the dark +form came in sight again. “Ah ha! Mr. Haas! You’re +the wily one! See, Grunya, he’s crawled into that shrubbery +by the gate. Is that where the wire was run?”</p> + +<p>“Yes; it’s the only thick clump of shrubbery a man can +hide in. Here comes somebody. I wonder if it’s another +of the assassins.”</p> + +<p>Not waiting, Hall and Grunya walked on past the house +to the next corner. The man who had come from the +other direction turned into Dragomiloff’s house and +walked up the steps to the door. They heard it, after a +momentary delay, open and shut.</p> + +<p>Grunya insisted on accompanying Hall. It was her +house, she said, and she knew every inch of it. Besides, +she still had the pass-key, and it would not be necessary +to ring.</p> + +<p>The front hall was lighted, so that the house number +showed plainly, and they walked boldly past the bushes +that concealed Haas, unlocked the front door, and entered. +Hall hung his hat on the rack and pulled off his +gloves. From the door to the right came a murmur of +voices. They paused outside to listen.</p> + +<p>“Beauty <em>is</em> a compulsion,” they heard one voice master +the conversation.</p> + +<p>“That’s Hanover, the Boston associate,” Hall whispered.</p> + +<p>“Beauty is absolute,” the voice went on. “Human life, +all life, has been bent to beauty. It is not a case of<span class="pagenum" id="Page_103">103</span> +paradoxical adaptation. Beauty was not bent to life. +Beauty was in the universe when man was not. Beauty +will remain in the universe when man has vanished and +again is not. Beauty is—well, it is beauty, that is all, +the first word and the last, and it does not depend upon +little maggoty men a-crawl in the slime.”</p> + +<p>“Metaphysics,” they could hear Lucoville sneer. “Pure +illusory metaphysics, my dear Hanover. When a man +begins to label as absolute the transient phenomena of an +ephemeral <span class="locked">evolution—”</span></p> + +<p>“Metaphysician yourself,” they heard Hanover interrupt. +“You would contend that nothing exists save in +consciousness, that when consciousness is destroyed, +beauty is destroyed, that the thing itself, the vital principle +to which developing life has been bent, is destroyed. +When we know, all of us, and you should know it, that +it is the principle only that persists. As Spencer has well +said of the eternal flux of force and matter, with its alternate +rhythm of evolution and dissolution, ‘ever the same +in principle but never the same in concrete result.’”</p> + +<p>“New norms, new norms,” Lucoville blurted in. “New +norms ever appearing in successive and dissimilar evolutions.”</p> + +<p>“The norm itself!” Hanover cried triumphantly. +“Have you considered that? You, yourself, have just +asserted that the norm persists. What then, is the norm? +It is the eternal, the absolute, the outside-of-consciousness, +the father and the mother of consciousness.”</p> + +<p>“A moment,” Lucoville cried excitedly.</p> + +<p>“Bah!” Hanover went on with true scholarly dogmatism. +“You attempt to resurrect the old exploded, +Berkeleyan idealism. Metaphysics—generations behind +the times. The modern school, as you ought to +know, insists that the thing exists of itself. Consciousness, +seeing and perceiving the thing, is a mere accident.<span class="pagenum" id="Page_104">104</span> +’Tis you, my dear Lucoville, who are the metaphysician.”</p> + +<p>There was a clapping of hands and rumble of approval.</p> + +<p>“Hoist by your own petard,” they heard one mellow +voice cry in an unmistakable English accent.</p> + +<p>“John Gray,” Hall whispered to Grunya. “If the theatre +were not so hopelessly commercialized, he would +revolutionize the whole of it.”</p> + +<p>“Logomachy,” they heard Lucoville begin his reply. +“Word-mongering, tricks of speech, a shuffling of words +and ideas. If you chaps will give me ten minutes, I’ll +expound my position.”</p> + +<p>“Behold!” Hall whispered. “Our amiable assassins, +adorable philosophers. Now, would you rather believe +them madmen than cruel and brutal murderers?”</p> + +<p>Grunya shrugged her shoulders. “They may bend +beauty any way they please, but I cannot forget that they +are bent on killing Uncle Sergius—my father.”</p> + +<p>“But don’t you see? They are obsessed by ideas. +They take no count of mere human life—not even of +their own. They are in slavery to thought. They live +in a world of ideas.”</p> + +<p>“At fifty thousand per,” she retorted.</p> + +<p>It was his turn to shrug his shoulders.</p> + +<p>“Come,” he said. “Let us enter. No, I’ll go first.”</p> + +<p>He turned the door handle and went in, followed by +Grunya. The conversation stopped abruptly, and seven +men, seated comfortably about the room, stared at the +two intruders.</p> + +<p>“Look here, Hall,” Harkins said with evident irritation. +“You were to be kept out of this. And we kept you out. +Yet here you are, and with a—pardon me—a stranger.”</p> + +<p>“And if it had depended on you fellows, I should have +been kept out,” Hall answered. “Why so secret?”</p> + +<p>“It was the Chief’s orders. He invited us here. And +since we obeyed his instructions and didn’t let you in on<span class="pagenum" id="Page_105">105</span> +it, our only conclusion is that it is he who let you in.”</p> + +<p>“No he didn’t,” Hall laughed. “And you might as +well ask us to be seated. This, gentlemen, is Miss Constantine. +Miss Constantine, Mr. Gray; Mr. Harkins; +Mr. Lucoville; Mr. Breen; Mr. Alsworthy; Mr. Starkington; +and Mr. Hanover—with the one exception of Mr. +Haas, the surviving members of the Assassination +Bureau.”</p> + +<p>“This is broken faith!” Lucoville cried angrily. +“Hall, I am disappointed!”</p> + +<p>“You do not understand, friend Lucoville. This is +Miss Constantine’s house. In the absence of her father +you are her guests, all of you.”</p> + +<p>“We were given to understand it was Dragomiloff’s +house,” Starkington said. “He told us so. We came +separately, yet, since we all arrived here we can only conclude +that there was no mistake of street and number.”</p> + +<p>“It is the same thing,” Hall replied, with a quiet smile. +“Miss Constantine is Dragomiloff’s daughter.”</p> + +<p>On the instant Grunya and Hall were surrounded by the +others, and hands were held out to her. Her own hand +she put behind her, at the same time taking a backward +step.</p> + +<p>“You want to kill my father,” she said to Lucoville. +“It is impossible that I should take your hand.”</p> + +<p>“Here, this chair; be seated, dear lady,” Lucoville was +saying, assisted by Starkington and Gray in bringing the +chair to her. “We are highly honored—the daughter of +our Chief—we did not know he had a daughter—she +is welcome—any daughter of our Chief is <span class="locked">welcome—”</span></p> + +<p>“But you want to kill him,” she continued her objection. +“You are murderers.”</p> + +<p>“We are friends, believe me. We represent an amity +that is higher and deeper than life and death. Dear lady, +human life is nothing—less than a bagatelle. Life!<span class="pagenum" id="Page_106">106</span> +Why, our lives are mere pawns in the game of social evolution. +We admire your father, we respect him; he is a +great man. He is—or, rather, he was—our Chief.”</p> + +<p>“Yet you want to kill him,” she persisted.</p> + +<p>“And by his orders. Be seated, please.” Lucoville +succeeded in his attentions, insofar as she sank down in +the chair. “This friend of yours, Mr. Hall,” he went on. +“You do not refuse him as a friend. You do not call +him a murderer. Yet it was he who deposited the fifty-thousand-dollar +fee for your father’s life. You see, dear +lady, already he has half destroyed our organization. +Yet we do not hold it against him. He is our friend. We +honor him because we know him to be a man, an honest +man, a man of his word, an ethicist of no mean dimensions.”</p> + +<p>“Isn’t it wonderful, Miss Constantine!” Hanover +broke in ecstatically. “Amity that makes death cheap! +The rule of right! The worship of right! Does it not +make one hope? Think of it! It proves that the future +is ours; that the future belongs to the right-thinking, right-acting +man and woman; that such fierce, feeble stirrings +and animal yearnings of the beastly clay, love of self and +love of kindred flesh and blood, vanish away as dawn +mist before the sun of the higher righteousness! Reason—and, +mark me, <em>right reason</em>—triumphs! All the human +world, some day, will comport itself, not according +to the flesh and the abysmal mire, but according to high +right reason!”</p> + +<p>Grunya bowed her head and threw up her arms in admission +of befuddled despair.</p> + +<p>“You can’t resist them, eh?” Hall exulted, bending +over her.</p> + +<p>“It is the chaos of super-thinking,” she said helplessly. +“It is ethics gone mad.”</p> + +<p>“So I told you,” he answered. “They are all mad, as<span class="pagenum" id="Page_107">107</span> +your father is mad, as you and I are mad insofar as we +are touched by their thinking. And now what do you +think of our lovable assassins?”</p> + +<p>“Yes, what do you think of us?” Hanover beamed +over the top of his spectacles.</p> + +<p>“All I can say,” she replied, “is that you don’t look like +it—like assassins, I mean. As for you, Mr. Lucoville, +I will take your hand, I will take the hands of all of you, +if you will promise to give up this attempt to kill my +father.”</p> + +<p>“You have a long way, Miss Constantine, to climb +upwards to the light,” Hanover chided regretfully.</p> + +<p>“Kill? Kill?” Lucoville queried excitedly. “Why +this fear of killing? Death is nothing. Only the beasts, +the creatures of the mire, fear death. My dear lady, we +are beyond death. We are full-statured intelligences, +knowing good and evil. It is no more difficult for us to +be killed than it is for us to kill. Killing—why, it occurs +in every slaughterhouse and meat-canning establishment +in the land. It is so common that it is almost +vulgar.”</p> + +<p>“Who has not swatted a mosquito?” Starkington +shouted. “With one fell swoop of a meat-nourished, +death-nourished hand smashed to destruction a most wonderful, +sentient, and dazzling flying mechanism? If there +be tragedy in death—think of the mosquito, the squashed +mosquito, the airy fairy miracle of flight disrupted and +crushed as no aviator has ever been disrupted and crushed, +not even MacDonald who fell fifteen thousand feet. +Have you ever studied the mosquito, Miss Constantine? +It will repay you. Why, the mosquito is just as wonderful, +in the phenomena of living matter, as man is wonderful.”</p> + +<p>“But there <em>is</em> a difference,” Gray put in.</p> + +<p>“I was coming to that. And what is the difference?<span class="pagenum" id="Page_108">108</span> +Swat the mosquito.” He paused for emphasis. “Well, +he is swatted, isn’t he? And that is all. He is finished. +The memory of him is not. But swat a man—by entire +generations swat man—and something is left. What is +it that is left? Not a peripatetic organism, not a hungry +stomach, a bald head, and a mouthful of aching teeth, +but thoughts—royal, kingly thoughts. That’s the difference. +Thoughts! High thoughts! Right thoughts! +Reasoned righteousness!”</p> + +<p>“Hold!” Hanover shouted, in his excitement springing +to his feet and waving his arms. “Swat—and I accept +your word, Starkington, crude though it is, but expressive. +Swat—and I warn you, Starkington—swat +as much as the tiniest pigment cell of the diaphanous +gauze of a new-hatched mosquito’s wing, and the totality +of the universe is jarred from its central suns to the stars +beyond the stars. Do not forget there is a cosmic righteousness +in that pigment cell and in the last atom of the +billion atoms that go to compose that pigment cell, and in +every one of the countless myriads of corpuscles that go +to compose one of those billion atoms.”</p> + +<p>“Listen, gentlemen,” Grunya said. “What are you +here for? I do not mean in the universe, but here in this +house. I accept all that Mr. Hanover has so eloquently +said of the pigment cell of the mosquito’s wing. It is evidently +not right to—to swat a mosquito. Then, how +in the name of sanity can you reconcile your presence +here, bent as you are on a red-handed murder, with the +ethics you have just expounded?”</p> + +<p>An uproar of reconciliation arose from every mouth.</p> + +<p>“Hey! Shut up!” Hall bellowed at them, then turned +to the girl and commanded peremptorily, “Grunya, stop +it. You’re getting touched. In five minutes you’ll be +as bad as they are. A truce to argument, you fellows. +Cut it out. Forget it. Let’s get down to business.<span class="pagenum" id="Page_109">109</span> +Where is the Chief, Miss Constantine’s father? You say +he told you to come here. Why have you come here? +To kill him?”</p> + +<p>Hanover wiped his forehead, collapsed from his passion +of thought, and nodded.</p> + +<p>“That is our reasoned intention,” he said calmly. “Of +course, the presence of Miss Constantine is embarrassing. +I fear we shall have to ask her to withdraw.”</p> + +<p>“You are a brute, sir,” she gravely assured the mild-mannered +scholar. “I shall remain right here. And +you won’t kill my father. I tell you, you won’t.”</p> + +<p>“Why isn’t the Chief here, then?” Hall inquired.</p> + +<p>“Because it is not yet time. He telephoned to us, +talked with us himself, and he said he would meet us here +in this room at ten o’clock. It is almost ten now.”</p> + +<p>“Maybe he won’t come,” Hall suggested.</p> + +<p>“He gave his word,” was the simple but quite convincing +answer.</p> + +<p>Hall looked at his watch. It marked a few seconds +before ten. And ere those seconds had ticked off, the +door opened and Dragomiloff, blond and colorless, clad +in a gray traveling suit, stepped in, passing a glance over +the assemblage from silken eyes of the palest blue.</p> + +<p>“Greetings, dear friends and brothers,” he said in his +monotonously even voice. “I see you are all here, with +the exception of Haas. Where is Haas?”</p> + +<p>The assassins who could not lie stared at one another +in awkward confusion.</p> + +<p>“Where is Haas?” Dragomiloff repeated.</p> + +<p>“We—ah—we don’t know exactly, that is it, exactly,” +Harkins began haltingly.</p> + +<p>“Well, I do, and exactly,” Dragomiloff chopped him +short. “I watched you arrive from the upstairs window. +I recognized all of you. Haas also arrived. He is now +lying in the shrubbery inside the gate on the right-hand<span class="pagenum" id="Page_110">110</span> +side of the walk, and exactly four feet and four inches +from the lower hinge of the gate. I measured it the other +day. Do you think that was what I intended?”</p> + +<p>“We did not care to anticipate your intentions, dear +Chief,” Hanover spoke up benignly, but with logical +emphasis. “We debated your invitation and your instructions +carefully, and it was our unanimous conclusion +that we committed no breach of word or faith in assigning +Haas to his position outside. Do you remember your +instructions?”</p> + +<p>“Perfectly,” Dragomiloff assented. “Wait till I go over +them to myself.” For a half-minute of silence he reviewed +his instructions, then his face thawed into almost +a beam of satisfaction. “You are correct,” he announced. +“You have committed no breach of right conduct. +And now, dear comrades, all our plans are destroyed +by this intrusion of my daughter and of the man +who is your Temporary Secretary and who I hope some +day will be my son-in-law.”</p> + +<p>“What was the aim of your plan?” Starkington asked +quickly.</p> + +<p>“To destroy you,” Dragomiloff laughed. “And the +aim of your plan was?”</p> + +<p>“To destroy you,” Starkington admitted. “And destroy +you we will. We regret Miss Constantine’s presence, +as we likewise do Mr. Hall’s presence. They came +uninvited. They can, of course, withdraw.”</p> + +<p>“I won’t!” Grunya cried out. “You cold-blooded, +inhuman, mathematical monsters! This is my father, +and I may be abysmal mire, or anything else you please, +but I will not withdraw, and you shall not harm him.”</p> + +<p>“You must meet me halfway in this,” Dragomiloff +urged. “Let us consider this once that we have failed +on both sides. Let me propose a truce.”</p> + +<p>“Very well,” Starkington conceded. “A truce for five<span class="pagenum" id="Page_111">111</span> +minutes, during which time no overt act may be attempted +and no one may leave the room. We should like to confer +together over there by the piano. Is it agreed?”</p> + +<p>“Yes, certainly. But first you will please notice where +I am standing. My hand is resting against this particular +book in this bookcase. I shall not move until you have +decided on what course you intend to pursue.”</p> + +<p>The assassins drew to the far end of the room and began +talking in whispers.</p> + +<p>“Come,” Grunya whispered to her father. “You have +but to step through the door and escape.”</p> + +<p>Dragomiloff smiled forgivingly. “You do not understand,” +he said with gentleness.</p> + +<p>She clenched her hands passionately, crying, “You are +as insane as they.”</p> + +<p>“But Grunya, love,” he pleaded, “is it not a beautiful +insanity—if you prefer the misnomer? Here thought +rules and right rules. It would seem to me the highest +rationality and control. What distinguishes man from +the lower animals is control. Witness this scene. There +stand seven men intent on killing me. Here I stand intent +on killing them. Yet, by the miracle of the spoken +word we agree to a truce. We trust. It is a beautiful +example of high moral inhibition.”</p> + +<p>“Every hermit, on top of a pillar or living with the +snakes in a cliff cave, has been a beautiful example of +such inhibition,” she came back impatiently. “The inhibitions +practiced in the asylums are often very remarkable.”</p> + +<p>But Dragomiloff refused to be drawn, and smiled and +joked until the assassins returned. As before, Starkington +was the spokesman.</p> + +<p>“We have decided,” he said, “that it is our duty to kill +you, dear Chief. There is still a minute to run. When +it is gone we shall proceed to our work. Also, in that<span class="pagenum" id="Page_112">112</span> +interval, we again request our two unbidden guests to +withdraw.”</p> + +<p>Grunya shook her head positively. “I am armed,” she +threatened, drawing a small automatic pistol and displaying +her inexperience by not pressing down the safety +catch.</p> + +<p>“It’s too bad,” Starkington apologized. “But we shall +have to go on with our work just the same.”</p> + +<p>“If nothing unforeseen prevents?” Dragomiloff suggested.</p> + +<p>Starkington glanced at his comrades, who nodded, then +said, “Certainly, unless nothing <span class="locked">unforeseen—”</span></p> + +<p>“And here is the unforeseen,” Dragomiloff interrupted +quietly. “You see my hands, my dear Starkington. +They bear no weapons. Forbear a minute. You see +the book against which my left hand rests. Behind that +book, at the back of the case, is a push-button. One +firm thrust in of the book presses the button. The room +is a magazine of dynamite. Need I explain more? +Draw aside that rug on which you are standing—that’s +right. Now carefully lift up that loose board. See the +sticks lying side by side. They’re all connected.”</p> + +<p>“Most interesting,” Hanover murmured, peering down +at the dynamite through his spectacles. “Death so simply +achieved! A violent chemical reaction, I believe. +Some day, when I can spare the time, I shall make a +study of explosives.”</p> + +<p>And in that moment, Hall and Grunya realized that +the philosopher-assassins were truly not afraid of death. +As they claimed for themselves, they were not burdened +by the flesh. Love of life did not yearn through their +mental processes. All they knew was the love of thought.</p> + +<p>“We did not guess this,” Gray assured Dragomiloff. +“But we apprehended what we did not guess. That is<span class="pagenum" id="Page_113">113</span> +why we stationed Haas outside. You could escape us, +but not him.”</p> + +<p>“Which reminds me, comrades,” Dragomiloff said. “I +ran another wire to the spot in the grounds where Haas +is now lurking. Let us hope he does not blunder upon +my button I concealed there, else we’ll all go up along +with our theories. Suppose one of you goes and +brings him in to join us. And while we’re about it, let +us agree to another truce. Under the present circumstances, +your hands are tied.”</p> + +<p>“Seven lives for one,” said Harkins. “Mathematically +it is repulsive.”</p> + +<p>“It is poor economics,” Breen agreed.</p> + +<p>“And suppose,” Dragomiloff continued, “we make the +truce till one o’clock and you all come and have supper +with me.”</p> + +<p>“If Haas agrees,” Alsworthy said. “I am going to +get him now.”</p> + +<p>Haas agreed and, like any party of friends, they left +the house together and caught an electric car for uptown.</p> +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> + +<div class="chapter"> +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_114">114</span></p> + +<h2 class="nobreak" id="Chapter_XIII"><i>Chapter XIII</i></h2> +</div> + +<p>In a private room at the Poodle Dog, the eight assassins +and Dragomiloff, Hall, and Grunya sat at table. +And a merry, almost convivial supper it was, despite the +fact that Harkins and Hanover were vegetarians, that +Lucoville eschewed all cooked food and munched bovinely +at a great plate of lettuce, raw turnips, and carrots, +and that Alsworthy began, kept up, and finished +with nuts, raisins, and bananas. On the other hand, +Breen, who looked a dyspeptic, orgied with a thick, raw +steak and shuddered at the suggestion of wine. Dragomiloff +and Haas drank thin native claret, while Hall, +Gray, and Grunya shared a pint of light Rhine wine. +Starkington, however, began with two Martini cocktails, +and ever and again, throughout the meal, buried his face +in a huge stein of Würzburger.</p> + +<p>The talk was outspoken, though the feeling displayed +was comradely and affectionate.</p> + +<p>“We’d have got you,” Starkington told Dragomiloff, +“if it hadn’t been for the inopportune arrival of your +daughter.”</p> + +<p>“My dear Starkington,” Dragomiloff retorted. “It was +she who saved you. I’d have bagged the seven of you.”</p> + +<p>“No you wouldn’t,” Breen joined in. “As I understand, +the wire led to the bushes where Haas was hiding.”</p> + +<p>“His being there was an accident, a mere accident,” +Dragomiloff answered lightly enough, yet unable to conceal +that he was somewhat crestfallen.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_115">115</span></p> + +<p>“Since when has the fortuitous been discarded from +the factors of evolution?” Hanover began learnedly.</p> + +<p>“You’d never have touched it off, Chief,” Haas was +saying at the same time that Lucoville was demanding +of Hanover, “Since when was the fortuitous ever classed +as a factor?”</p> + +<p>“Possibly your disagreement is merely of definition,” +Hall said pacifically. “That asparagus is tinned, Hanover. +Did you know that?”</p> + +<p>Hanover forgot the argument, and sat back aghast. +“And I never eat tinned stuff of any sort! Are you sure, +Hall? Are you sure?”</p> + +<p>“Ask the waiter. He’ll tell you the same.”</p> + +<p>“It’s all right, dear Haas,” Dragomiloff was saying. +“The next time I’ll surely touch it off, and you won’t be +in the way. You’ll be at the other end of the wire.”</p> + +<p>“Oh, I cannot understand, I cannot understand,” +Grunya cried. “It seems a joke. It can’t be real. Here +you are, all good friends, eating and drinking together +and affectionately telling how you intend killing one another.” +She turned to Hall. “Wake me up, Winter. +This is a dream.”</p> + +<p>“I wish it were.”</p> + +<p>She turned to Dragomiloff. “Oh, Uncle Sergius, wake +me up!”</p> + +<p>“You are awake, Grunya, love.”</p> + +<p>“Then if I’m awake,” she went on, firmly, almost angrily, +“it is you who are the somnambulists. Wake up! +Oh, wake up! I wish an earthquake would come, anything, +if it would only rouse you. Father, you can do it. +Withdraw that order for your death which you yourself +gave.”</p> + +<p>“But don’t you see, he can’t,” Starkington told her +across the corner of the table.</p> + +<p>Dragomiloff, at the other end of the table, shook his<span class="pagenum" id="Page_116">116</span> +head. “You would not have me break my word, +Grunya?”</p> + +<p>“I’m not afraid to break—anything!” Hall interrupted. +“The order started with me. I withdraw it. +Return my fifty thousand, or spend it on charity. I don’t +care. The point is, I don’t want Dragomiloff killed.”</p> + +<p>“You forget yourself,” Haas reminded him. “You are +merely a client of the Bureau. And when you engaged +the service of the Bureau, you agreed to certain things. +The Bureau likewise agreed to certain things. You may +wish to break your agreement, but it has passed beyond +you. The affair is in the hands of the Bureau, and the +Bureau does not break its agreements. It never has +broken them and it never will. If there be not absolute +faith in the given word, if the given word be not as unbreakable +as the tie-ribs of earth, then there is no hope +in life, and creation crashes to chaos because of its intrinsic +falsity. We deny this falsity. We prove it by +our acts that clinch the finality of the given word. Am I +right, comrades?”</p> + +<p>Approval was unanimous, and Dragomiloff, half rising +from his chair, reached across and grasped the hand of +Haas. For once Dragomiloff’s undeviating, monotonous +voice was touched with the emphasis of feeling as he proclaimed +proudly:</p> + +<p>“The hope of the world! The higher race! The top +of evolution! The right-rulers and king-thinkers! The +realization of all dreams and aspirings; the slime crawled +upward to the light; the touch and the promise of Godhead +come true!”</p> + +<p>Hanover left his seat and threw his arms about the +Chief in an ecstasy of intellectual admiration and fellowship. +Grunya and Hall looked at each other despairingly.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_117">117</span></p> + +<p>“King-thinkers,” he murmured helplessly.</p> + +<p>“The asylums are filled with king-thinkers,” was her +angry comment.</p> + +<p>“Logic!” he sneered.</p> + +<p>“I, too, shall write a book,” she added. “It shall be +entitled <i>The Logic of Lunacy, or, Why Thinkers Go +Mad</i>.”</p> + +<p>“Never has our logic been better vindicated,” Starkington +said to her, as the jubilation of the king-thinkers +eased down.</p> + +<p>“You do violence with your logic,” Grunya flung back. +“I will prove it to <span class="locked">you—”</span></p> + +<p>“By logic?” Gray interpolated quickly and raised a +general laugh, in which Grunya could not help but join.</p> + +<p>Hall lifted his hand solemnly for a hearing.</p> + +<p>“We have yet to debate how many angels can dance on +the point of a needle.”</p> + +<p>“Shame on you!” Lucoville cried. “That is antediluvian. +We are scholars, not <span class="locked">scholastics—”</span></p> + +<p>“And you can prove it,” Grunya stabbed across, “as +easily as you can the angels and the needle and everything +else.”</p> + +<p>“If ever I get out of this mix-up with you fellows,” Hall +declared, “I shall forswear logic. Never again!”</p> + +<p>“A confession of intellectual fatigue,” Lucoville argued.</p> + +<p>“Only he does not mean it,” Harkins put in. “He +can’t help being logical. It is his heritage—the heritage +of man. It distinguishes man from the <span class="locked">lesser—”</span></p> + +<p>“Hold!” Hanover broke in. “You forget that the +universe is founded on logic. Without logic the universe +could not be. In every fibre of it logic resides. There +is logic in the molecule, in the atom, in the electron. I +have a monograph, here in my pocket, which I shall read +to you. I have called it ‘Electronic Logic.’ <span class="locked">It—”</span></p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_118">118</span></p> + +<p>“Here is the waiter,” Hall interrupted wickedly. “He +says of course that the asparagus was tinned.”</p> + +<p>Hanover ceased fumbling in his pocket in order to vent +a tirade against the waiter and the management of the +Poodle Dog.</p> + +<p>“That was not logical,” Hall smiled, when the waiter +had left the room.</p> + +<p>“And why not, pray?” Hanover asked, with a touch +of asperity.</p> + +<p>“Because it is not the season for fresh asparagus.”</p> + +<p>Ere Hanover could recover from this, Breen began on +him.</p> + +<p>“You said earlier this evening, Hanover, that you were +interested in explosives. Let me show you the quintessence +of universal logic—the irrefragable logic of the +elements, the logic of chemistry, the logic of mechanics, +and the logic of time, all indissolubly welded together into +one of the prettiest devices ever mortal mind conceived. +So thoroughly do I agree with you, that I shall now show +you the unreasoned logic of the stuff of the universe.”</p> + +<p>“Why unreasoned?” Hanover queried faintly, shuddering +at the uneaten asparagus. “Do you think the electron +incapable of reason?”</p> + +<p>“I don’t know. I never saw an electron. But for the +sake of the argument, let us suppose it does reason. Anyway, +as you’ll agree, it’s the keenest logic, the absolutest +and most unswervable logic you’ve ever seen. Look at +that.” Breen had gone to where his overcoat hung on +the wall and drawn out a flat oblong package. This, +when unwrapped, resembled a folding pocket camera of +medium size. He held it up with eyes sparkling with +admiration. “By George, Hanover!” he exclaimed. “I +think you are right. Look at it!—The eloquent-voiced, +the subduer of jarring tongues and warring creeds, the<span class="pagenum" id="Page_119">119</span> +ultimate arbiter. It enunciates the final word. When it +speaks, kings and emperors, grafters and falsifiers, the +Scribes and Pharisees and all wrong-thinkers remain silent—forever +remain silent.”</p> + +<p>“Let it speak,” Haas grinned. “Maybe it will silence +Hanover.”</p> + +<p>The laughter died away as they saw Breen, the object +poised in his hand, visibly thinking. And in the silence +they saw him achieve his concept of action.</p> + +<p>“Very well,” he said. “It shall speak.” He drew from +his vest pocket an ordinary-looking, gun-metal watch. +“It is an alarm watch,” he went on, “seventeen-jeweled +movement, Swiss-Elgin works. Let me see. It is now +midnight. Our truce”—he bowed to Dragomiloff—“expires +at one o’clock. See, I set it for precisely one +minute after one.” He pointed to an opening in the +camera-like object. “Behold this slot. It is specially +devised to receive this watch—mark me, I say, specially +devised. I insert the watch, thus. Did you hear that +metallic click? That is the automatic locking device. +No power can now remove that watch. I cannot. The +decree has gone forth. It cannot be recalled. All this +is of my devising save for the voice itself. The voice is +the voice of Nakatodaka, the great Japanese who died +last year.”</p> + +<p>“A phonograph record,” Hanover complained. “I +thought you said something about explosives.”</p> + +<p>“The voice of Nakatodaka is an explosive,” Breen expounded. +“Nakatodaka, if you will remember, was killed +in his laboratory by his own voice.”</p> + +<p>“Formose!” Haas said, nodding his head. “I remember +now.”</p> + +<p>“So do I,” Hall told Grunya. “Nakatodaka was a +great chemist.”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_120">120</span></p> + +<p>“But I understand the secret died with him,” Starkington +said.</p> + +<p>“So the world understood,” was Breen’s reply. “But +the formula was found by the Japanese government and +stolen from the War Office by a revolutionist.” His voice +swelled with pride. “This is the first Formose ever manufactured +on American soil. I manufactured it.”</p> + +<p>“Heavens!” Grunya cried. “And when it goes off it +will blow us all up!”</p> + +<p>Breen nodded with intense gratification.</p> + +<p>“If you remain it will,” he said. “The people in this +neighborhood will think it an earthquake or another anarchist +outrage.”</p> + +<p>“Stop it!” she commanded.</p> + +<p>“I can’t. That’s the beauty of it. As I told Hanover, +it is the logic of chemistry, the logic of mechanics, and +the logic of time, all indissolubly welded together. There +is no power in the universe that can now break that weld. +Any attempt would merely precipitate the explosion.”</p> + +<p>Grunya caught Hall’s hand as she stared at him in her +helplessness, but Hanover, fluttering and hovering about +the infernal machine, peering at it delightedly through +his spectacles, was off in another ecstasy.</p> + +<p>“Wonderful! Wonderful! Breen, I congratulate you. +We shall now be able to settle the affairs of nations and +put the world on a higher, nobler basis. Hebrew is a diversion. +This is an efficiency. I shall certainly devote +myself to the study of explosives ... Lucoville, you are +refuted. There <em>is</em> morality in the elements, and reason, +and logic.”</p> + +<p>“You forget, my dear Hanover,” Lucoville replied, +“that behind this mechanism and chemistry and abstraction +of time is the mind of man, devising, controlling, +<span class="locked">utilizing—”</span></p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_121">121</span></p> + +<p>But he was interrupted by Hall, who had shoved his +chair back and sprung to his feet.</p> + +<p>“You lunatics! You sit there like a lot of clams! +Don’t you realize that that damned thing is going to go +off?”</p> + +<p>“Not until one after one,” Hanover mildly assured him. +“Besides, Breen has not yet told us his intentions.”</p> + +<p>“The mind of man behind and informing unconscious +matter and blind force,” Lucoville gibed.</p> + +<p>Starkington leaned across to Hall and said in an undertone, +“Transport this scene to a stage setting with a +Wall Street audience! There’d be a panic.”</p> + +<p>But Hall shook the interruption aside.</p> + +<p>“Look here, Breen, just what is your intention? I, for +one, and Miss Constantine, are going to get out, now, at +once.”</p> + +<p>“There is plenty of time,” replied the custodian of +Nakatodaka’s voice. “I’ll tell you my intention. The +truce expires at one. I am between our dear Chief and +the door. He can’t go though the walls. I guard the +door. The rest of you may depart. But I remain here +with him. The blow is sped. Nothing can stop it. One +minute after the truce is up the last commission accepted +by the Bureau will have been accomplished. Pardon me, +dear Chief, one moment. I have told you that even I +cannot stop the process now at work in that mechanism. +But I can expedite it. You see my thumb, lightly resting +in this depression? It just barely brushes a button. One +press of the thumb, and the machine immediately explodes. +Now, as an honorable and logical man and comrade, +you can see that any attempt of yours to get out of +this door will blow all of us up, your daughter and the +Temporary Secretary as well. Therefore you will remain +in your seat. Hanover, the formula is safe. I shall remain<span class="pagenum" id="Page_122">122</span> +here and die with the Chief at one minute after one. +You will find the formula in the top drawer of the filing +cabinet in my bedroom.”</p> + +<p>“Do something!” Grunya entreated Hall. “You +must do something.”</p> + +<p>Hall, who had sat down, again stood up, moving the +wineglass to one side as he rested one hand on the table.</p> + +<p>“Gentlemen.” He spoke in a quiet voice, but one +which immediately gained him the respectful attention of +the others. “Until now, despite my abhorrence of killing, +I have felt bound to respect the ideals that directed +your actions. Now, however, I must question your motives.”</p> + +<p>He turned to Breen, who was watching him carefully.</p> + +<p>“Tell me,” Hall pursued, “do you feel that you, personally, +merit extinction? If you give your life in order +to assassinate your Chief, you are violating the tenet that +any death at your hand is one warranted by the crimes +of the victim. Of what crimes are you so guilty as to +make this sentence—which you have passed upon yourself—a +just one?”</p> + +<p>Breen smiled at this adroit argument. The others listened +politely.</p> + +<p>“But you see,” the bacteriologist explained happily, +“we in the Assassination Bureau recognize the possibility +of our own death in the execution of our assignments. It +is a normal risk of our business.”</p> + +<p>“Accidental death, yes, as a result of the unexpected,” +was Hall’s quiet reply. “Here, however, we are speaking +of a planned death, and that of an innocent person—yourself. +This is in violation of your own principles.”</p> + +<p>There was a moment’s thoughtful silence.</p> + +<p>“He’s quite right, Breen, you know,” Gray finally offered. +He had been listening to the verbal duel with<span class="pagenum" id="Page_123">123</span> +puckered forehead. “I’m afraid that your solution is +scarcely acceptable.”</p> + +<p>“Still,” Lucoville contributed, “consider this: Breen, by +arranging an innocent’s death, might be warranting his +own death for dereliction of principle.”</p> + +<p>“A priori,” Haas snapped impatiently. “Specious. +You are arguing in circles. Until he dies, he is not guilty; +if he is not guilty, he does not warrant death.”</p> + +<p>“Mad!” Grunya whispered. “They are all mad!”</p> + +<p>She stared at the animated faces about the festive table +with awe. They had the intent gleam in their eyes of +scholars at a seminar. No one seemed in the slightest +affected by the knowledge of the deadly bomb ticking +away the minutes. Breen had released his thumb from +the small button on the side of the weapon. His eyes +followed each speaker eagerly as they argued his proposal.</p> + +<p>“There is one possible solution,” Harkins remarked +slowly, leaning forward to join the discussion. “Breen, +by setting the bomb during the period of a truce, was +dishonoring a commitment. I do not say that this, of +itself, merits a punishment as severe as he contemplates, +but certainly he has been guilty of an action beyond the +strict morality of our organization....”</p> + +<p>“True!” cried Breen, his eyes sparkling. “It is true, +and that is the answer! By speeding the blow during an +armistice, I have committed a sin. I find myself guilty +and deserving of death.” His eyes flashed to the wall-clock. +“In exactly thirty minutes....”</p> + +<p>But his inattention to Dragomiloff proved fatal. Swift +as a striking cobra, the strong hands of the ex-Chief of +the Bureau sought and found vital nerves in Breen’s +neck. The death-touch of the Japanese was immediately +effective; even as the others watched in startled surprise<span class="pagenum" id="Page_124">124</span> +Breen’s hand relaxed on the small bomb and he slid lifeless +to the floor. In almost the same motion Dragomiloff +had snatched up his coat and was at the door.</p> + +<p>“I shall see you on the boat, Grunya, my dear,” he +murmured, and was through and away before any of the +others could move.</p> + +<p>“After him!” cried Harkins, springing to his feet. But +he found his way barred by the tall form of John Gray.</p> + +<p>“There is a truce!” Gray reminded him fiercely. +“Breen broke it and has paid dearly for his dereliction. +We are still bound by our honor for another twenty +minutes.”</p> + +<p>Starkington, who had watched the entire discussion dispassionately +from one end of the long table, lifted his head +and spoke.</p> + +<p>“The bomb,” he observed quietly. “Our polemics, +I am afraid, will have to be postponed. There are exactly—” +he glanced at the wall-clock “—eighteen minutes +until it is scheduled to detonate.”</p> + +<p>Haas leaned down curiously, picking the small box +from Breen’s lax hand.</p> + +<p>“There must be a way....”</p> + +<p>“Breen assured us there was not,” Starkington responded +dryly. “I believe him. Breen never equivocated +in a scientific statement.” He came to his feet. +“As head of the Chicago office I must assume command +of our greatly reduced forces. Harkins, you and Alsworthy +must take the bomb to the Bay as quickly as possible. +We cannot leave it here to explode and kill innocents.”</p> + +<p>He waited as the two men took their coats and left, +carrying the deadly ticking container of Formose.</p> + +<p>“Our respected ex-Chief made mention of a boat,” he +continued evenly. “I had assumed this was his motive +in coming to San Francisco; his statement merely confirmed<span class="pagenum" id="Page_125">125</span> +it. Since we cannot stoop to extracting the name +of the steamer from his lovely daughter, we must make +other arrangements. Haas...?”</p> + +<p>“There are but three steamers sailing in the morning +with the tide,” responded Haas almost mechanically, while +Grunya marveled at the wealth of information stored behind +the bulging brow. “There are enough of us remaining +to easily check upon all of them.”</p> + +<p>“Good,” Starkington agreed. “They are...?”</p> + +<p>“The <i>Argosy</i>, at Oakland; the <i>Eastern Clipper</i> at Jansen’s +Wharf, and the <i>Takku Maru</i> at the Commercial +Dock.”</p> + +<p>“Fine. Then Lucoville, you will take the <i>Argosy</i>. +Haas, the <i>Takku Maru</i> should be more suitable for you. +Gray, the <i>Eastern Clipper</i>.”</p> + +<p>The three men rose alertly, but Starkington waved them +to their seats.</p> + +<p>“There is time until the tide, gentlemen,” he remarked +easily. “Besides, there are still twelve minutes remaining +of our armistice.” He stared at the body of Breen +lying twisted on the floor. “We must make arrangements +for the removal of our dear friend here, as well. +An unfortunate heart attack, I should say. Hanover, if +you would handle the telephone.... Thank you.”</p> + +<p>His hand reached over to the table to find a wine-list.</p> + +<p>“After which I would suggest a brandy, a bodied +brandy. Possibly from Spain. A fitting drink, taken at +the end of a repast. We shall drink, gentlemen, to the +end of a most difficult assignment. And we shall toast, +gentlemen, the man who made the assignment possible.”</p> + +<p>Hall swung about to object to this macabre humor at +his expense, but before he could speak, the even voice of +Starkington continued quietly.</p> + +<p>“We shall toast, gentlemen: Ivan Dragomiloff!”</p> +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> + +<div class="chapter"> +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_126">126</span></p> + +<h2 class="nobreak" id="Chapter_XIV"><i>Chapter XIV</i></h2> +</div> + +<p>Winter Hall, aided by a full purse, experienced little +difficulty in convincing the purser that space was available, +even for a latecomer, aboard the <i>Eastern Clipper</i>. +He had stopped briefly at his hotel for a bag, had left a +short note to be delivered first thing in the morning, and +had met an anxious Grunya at the gangplank. While he +was completing his financial arrangements for passage, +Grunya disappeared below to inform her father of Hall’s +presence aboard ship. An elfin smile lit Dragomiloff’s +features.</p> + +<p>“Did you expect me to be angry, my dear?” he inquired. +“Upset? Or even surprised? While the thought of a +trip alone with my newly discovered daughter is enjoyable, +it will be even more enjoyable to travel with her when she +is happy.”</p> + +<p>“You have always made me happy, Uncle—I mean, +Father,” she pouted, but her eyes were twinkling.</p> + +<p>Dragomiloff laughed.</p> + +<p>“There comes a time, my dear, when a father is limited +in the happiness he can impart. And now, if you do not +mind, I shall sleep. It has been a tiring day.”</p> + +<p>Grunya kissed him tenderly and was opening the door +when memory struck.</p> + +<p>“Father,” she exclaimed. “The Assassination Bureau! +They intend to investigate every ship sailing on the morning’s +tide.”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_127">127</span></p> + +<p>“But of course,” he said gently. “It is the first thing +they would do.” He kissed her again and closed the door +behind her.</p> + +<p>She mounted to the upper deck and found Hall. Hand +in hand they stood at the rail, peering at the lights of the +sleeping city. His hand tightened on hers.</p> + +<p>“Must it really be a year?” he asked sadly.</p> + +<p>“There are only three months remaining,” she laughed. +“Do not be impatient.” Her laughter faded. “In truth, +this is advice more suitable to myself.”</p> + +<p>“Grunya!”</p> + +<p>“It is true,” she admitted. “Oh, Winter, I want to be +married to you so much!”</p> + +<p>“Darling! The captain of the ship can marry us tomorrow!”</p> + +<p>“No. I am as mad as all of you. I have given my +word and I will not change it.” She faced him soberly. +“Until the year is up I will not marry you. And should +anything happen to my father before then....”</p> + +<p>“Nothing will happen to him,” Hall assured her.</p> + +<p>She looked at him steadily.</p> + +<p>“Yet you will not promise me to prevent anything from +happening.”</p> + +<p>“My darling, I cannot.” Hall stared over the rail at +the darkened waters below. “These madmen—and I +must include your father in that category—will not allow +anyone to interfere in their dangerous game. And +that’s what it is to them, you know. A game.”</p> + +<p>“Which no one can win,” she agreed sadly, and then +glanced at her time-piece. “It is very late. I really must +go to sleep. Shall I see you in the morning?”</p> + +<p>“You can scarcely avoid me on a small steamer,” he +laughed, and bending his head he kissed her fingers passionately.</p> + +<div class="tb">* * * * *</div> + +<p>Dragomiloff, finding his cabin warm, unbolted the porthole<span class="pagenum" id="Page_128">128</span> +and swung it wide. His stateroom fronted upon the +dockside and a solid row of inscrutable warehouses lit +only by a row of small electric bulbs, swinging faintly in +the night breeze. The maneuver resulted in little improvement; +the night without was sultry and quiet.</p> + +<p>He stood in the dark of his room, leaning against the +brass rim of the porthole, breathing deeply. His thoughts +ranged over the past nine months and the narrow escapes +he had managed. He felt tired, mentally and physically +tired. Age, he thought. The one variable in life’s equation +beyond the power of the brain to control or to evaluate. +At least there were ten days ahead of freedom from +stress; ten pleasant days of sea-voyage in which to recuperate. +Suddenly, as he stood there, he heard a familiar +voice rising from the shadows below.</p> + +<p>“You are certain? Dragomiloff. It is very possible +that he is a passenger aboard.”</p> + +<p>“Quite sure,” the purser replied. “There is no one of +that name on the ship. You may be certain that we +would do everything in our power to aid the Federal government.”</p> + +<p>In the safety of his darkened stateroom, Dragomiloff +grinned. His weariness fled as, all senses alert, he listened +intently. Gray was clever to adopt the guise of a +Federal man, but then Gray had always been extremely +worthy of his position in the Bureau.</p> + +<p>“There is a chance this man is not using his real name,” +Gray pursued. “He is a smallish person, deceptively +frail-looking—although, believe me, he is not—and he +is traveling with his daughter, a quite beautiful young +lady whose name is Grunya.”</p> + +<p>“There is a gentleman traveling with his daughter....”</p> + +<p>Dragomiloff’s smile deepened. In the blackness of his +room his small, strong fingers flexed and unflexed themselves +preparatorily.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_129">129</span></p> + +<p>There was a moment’s silence on the dock below; then +Gray spoke thoughtfully.</p> + +<p>“I should like to check further if you don’t mind. +Could you give me his cabin number?”</p> + +<p>“Of course. One second, sir. Here it is—31—on +the lower deck.” There was a hesitant pause. “But if +you should be wrong....”</p> + +<p>“I shall apologize.” There was coldness in Gray’s +voice. “The Federal government has no interest in embarrassing +innocent people. But still, I have my duty +to perform.”</p> + +<p>The shadowy figures at the foot of the gangplank separated, +the taller one mounting the inclined stairway easily, +brushing past the other.</p> + +<p>“I can find it, thank you. There is no need for you to +leave your post.”</p> + +<p>“Certainly, sir. I hope....”</p> + +<p>But Gray was beyond earshot. Stepping lightly to the +deck of the ship he strode quickly to a door leading to an +inner passageway. Once inside he immediately checked +the numbers on the cabins facing him. The door before +him was marked 108; without hesitation he swung to the +stairway and descended. Here the numbers were of two +digits. He smiled to himself and crept along the silent +corridor, marking each door.</p> + +<p>Number 31 lay beyond a turn in the passage, set in a +small alcove. Flattening himself against the wall of the +alcove, Gray considered his next step. He did not underestimate +Dragomiloff, who had taught him not only +the beauty of logic, ethics, and morality, but who had +also taught him to break a man’s neck with one swift +blow. There was a sudden shudder to the ship, and he +stiffened, but it was only the great engines below beginning +to revolve, warming up preparatory to sailing.</p> + +<p>In the silence of the deserted corridor Gray considered<span class="pagenum" id="Page_130">130</span> +and rejected the thought of using his revolver. In the +confined space the sound would be deafening, escape made +that much more difficult. Instead he withdrew a thin, +sharp knife from a holster on his forearm, and tested the +edge briefly against his thumb. Satisfied, he gripped it +firmly, edge uppermost, while his other hand crept to the +lock, master-key in hand.</p> + +<p>One quick glance assured him that he was alone in the +passageway; the passengers were all asleep. As silently +as possible he inserted the key, turning it slowly.</p> + +<p>To his surprise the door was suddenly jerked inwards. +Before he could recover his balance he was being pulled +into the room and strong fingers were being clamped upon +the hand holding the knife. But Gray’s reactions had +always been swift. Rather than pulling back, he went +forward with his assailant, pushing fiercely, adding his +weight to the impetus of the other’s force. The two men +fell in a sprawl against the bunk beneath the porthole. +With a sudden heave, Gray was on his feet, twisting to +one side, the knife once more firmly in position in his +fingers. Dragomiloff was also on his feet, hands outstretched, +his taut fingers searching for an opening to give +a death-touch to his opponent.</p> + +<p>For a moment they stood panting a few feet from one +another. The small electric lights from the dock gave +the cabin eerie shadows. Then, swift as lightning, Gray’s +arm flashed forwards, the knife whistling in the darkness. +But it encountered only empty air; Dragomiloff +had dropped to the floor, and as the other’s arm swept +above him he reached up and clutched it, twisting. With +a smothered cry Gray dropped the knife and fell upon +the smaller man, straining with his free hand for a grip +on the other’s throat.</p> + +<p>They fought in fury and in silence, two trained assassins +each aware of the other’s ability and each convinced<span class="pagenum" id="Page_131">131</span> +of the rightness, as well as the necessity, for the other’s +death. Each hold and counter-hold was automatic; their +proficiency in the death-science of the Japanese equal and +devastating. Beneath them the rumble of the huge pistons +slowly turning over increased. Within the stateroom +the battle waged relentlessly, grip matching grip, their +panting breath now lost in the larger sound of the ship’s +engines.</p> + +<p>Their thrashing legs encountered the open door; it +slammed shut. Gray attempted to roll free and suddenly +felt his lost knife pressing against his shoulder blades. +With a thrust of his arched back he rolled further, fending +off Dragomiloff’s attack with one hand while he +searched for the weapon with his other. And then his +fingers found it. Twisting violently, he pulled free, +swinging the blade for a frontal blow, and thrust it forward +viciously. He felt it bite into something soft and +for one second he relaxed. And in that moment Dragomiloff’s +eager fingers found the spot they had been seeking. +Gray fell back, his fingers dragging the knife from +the mattress of the bunk with their last dying effort.</p> + +<p>Dragomiloff staggered to his feet, staring sombrely +down at the shadowy figure of his old friend lying at the +foot of the narrow bunk. He leaned against the closed +porthole, fighting to regain his breath, aware of how +much the years had taken from his fighting ability. He +rubbed his face wearily. Still, he thought, he had not +succumbed to Gray’s attack, and Gray was as deadly as +any member.</p> + +<p>A sudden rap at the door brought immediate awareness +to him. He bent swiftly, rolling the dead body out of +sight beneath the bunk, and came quietly to stand beside +the door.</p> + +<p>“Yes?”</p> + +<p>“Mr. Constantine? Could I see you a moment, sir?”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_132">132</span></p> + +<p>“One second.”</p> + +<p>Dragomiloff switched on the stateroom light; a swift +glance about the room revealed nothing too incriminating. +He straightened a chair, threw the blanket back to conceal +the torn mattress, and slipped into a dressing-gown. He +glanced about once more. Satisfied that all was presentable, +he opened the door a crack and yawned widely into +the face of the purser.</p> + +<p>“Yes? What is it?”</p> + +<p>The purser looked embarrassed.</p> + +<p>“A Mr. Gray, sir. Did he stop down to see you?”</p> + +<p>“Oh, that. Yes, he did. But it was really too bad +his bothering me, you know. He was looking for a Mr. +Dragomovitch, or something. He apologized and left. +Why?”</p> + +<p>“The ship is sailing, sir. Do you suppose he might +have gone ashore in the last few moments? While I was +coming down here?”</p> + +<p>Dragomiloff yawned again and stared at the purser +coldly.</p> + +<p>“I’m sure I have no idea. And now, if you’ll excuse +me, I really would like to get some rest.”</p> + +<p>“Certainly, sir. I’m sorry. Thank you.”</p> + +<p>Dragomiloff locked the door and once again switched +off the lights. He sat on the small chair furnished with +the stateroom and stared at the locked porthole thoughtfully. +Tomorrow would be too late; there would be stewards +cleaning the cabins. Even morning would be too +late; early strollers about the decks were not uncommon. +It would have to be now, with all the attendant dangers. +With patience he settled back to await the ship’s departure.</p> + +<p>Voices came from the deck above as lines were cast off +and the ship prepared to leave the dock. The rumble of +the engines increased; a slight motion was imparted to +the cabin. Above his head the faint pounding of feet<span class="pagenum" id="Page_133">133</span> +could be heard as seamen ran back and forth, winching +in the lines, obeying the exigencies of the steel monster +which was to take them across the ocean.</p> + +<p>The cries on deck abated. Dragomiloff carefully unbolted +the porthole and thrust his head out. The watery +gap between the pier and the ship was slowly widening; +the lights strung along the warehouses were fading in distance. +He listened carefully for footsteps from above; +there were none. Returning to his task he rolled the +body free from its hiding place and, bending, lifted it with +ease to prop it on the bunk. One last searching glance +indicated that the coast was clear. He thrust the flaccid +arms through the porthole and fed the body into the open +air. It fell with a faint splash; Dragomiloff waited quietly +for any outbreak of sound from above. There was none. +With graven face he latched the porthole, pulled the +drapes tightly over them, and re-lit the light.</p> + +<p>One final check was necessary before retiring, for +Dragomiloff was a thorough man. The knife was stowed +in a suitcase, and the bag locked. The slit in the mattress +was covered with the sheet, reversed and tucked in +tightly. The rug was straightened. Only when the +room had regained its former appearance did Dragomiloff +relax and slowly begin undressing.</p> + +<p>It had been a busy night, but one step further along +his inexorable path.</p> +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> + +<div class="chapter"> +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_134">134</span></p> + +<h2 class="nobreak" id="Chapter_XV"><i>Chapter XV</i></h2> +</div> + +<p>Lucoville rapped sharply upon Starkington’s hotel-room +door and when the door swung back, entered and +quietly laid a newspaper upon the table. Starkington’s +eye immediately caught the black headlines, and he read +through the lurid account rapidly.</p> + +<div class="blockquot"> +<p class="center"> +TWO DIE IN MYSTERIOUS EXPLOSION +</p> + +<p>Aug. 15: A mysterious explosion in the early hours of today +on Worth Street near the Bay region caused the tragic death +of two unidentified men. Police could discover no clue as +to the cause of the violent detonation, which broke windows +in the immediate vicinity, as well as costing the lives of the +two men who were believed to be walking in the area at the +time of the explosion.</p> + +<p class="ti">The violence of the detonation made identification of the +two victims impossible. The shattered fragments of a small +metal box were the only unusual item found in the area, but +police claim it could not possibly have played a part in the +tragedy because of its size. At present the authorities admit +themselves baffled.</p> +</div> + +<p>“Harkins and Alsworthy!” he exclaimed through +clenched teeth. “We must get the others here as quickly +as possible!”</p> + +<p>“I have telephoned to Haas and Hanover,” Lucoville +replied. “They should be here at any moment.”</p> + +<p>“And Gray?”</p> + +<p>“His hotel room did not answer. I am rather surprised, +since it was agreed that a report be made this<span class="pagenum" id="Page_135">135</span> +morning on the ships that were investigated last night.”</p> + +<p>“You found nothing at the <i>Argosy</i>?”</p> + +<p>“Nothing. Nor did Haas at the <i>Takku Maru</i>.”</p> + +<p>The two men stared at each other in silent common +thought.</p> + +<p>“Do you suppose ...?” Starkington began, but at +that moment there was an imperious rap at the door, and +before either occupant could answer, the door swung wide, +revealing Hanover and Haas.</p> + +<p>Haas rushed in, laying a later edition of the newspaper +upon the table.</p> + +<p>“Did you see this?” he cried. “Gray is dead!”</p> + +<p>“Dead?”</p> + +<p>“Found floating alongside Jansen’s Wharf, where the +<i>Eastern Clipper</i> was docked! Dragomiloff is on that +ship, and it has sailed!”</p> + +<p>There was a moment’s shocked silence. Starkington +walked over and slowly seated himself. His eyes roved +the stern faces of his companions before he spoke.</p> + +<p>“Well, gentlemen,” he said softly, “we are being decimated. +The total remaining members of the Assassination +Bureau are within this room at this moment. Three +of our number died within the past twelve hours. Where +is the success that crowned our every effort for all these +years? Can it all have departed at the same moment?”</p> + +<p>“There are limits to one’s infallibility,” Haas objected. +“Harkins and Alsworthy died as the result of an accident.”</p> + +<p>“Accident? You do not honestly believe that, Haas. +You cannot. There is no such thing as an accident. +We control our own lives, or we control nothing.”</p> + +<p>“Or at least we believe that, or we believe nothing,” +Lucoville amended dryly.</p> + +<p>“But the wall-clock must have been wrong!” Haas +insisted.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_136">136</span></p> + +<p>“Obviously,” Starkington admitted. “But is it an accident +to fail through dependence upon a mechanical +contrivance? Inventions, my dear Haas, are the work +of doers, and not thinkers.”</p> + +<p>“A ridiculous statement,” Haas sneered.</p> + +<p>“Not at all. It is the inability to mentally rationalize +problems that leads men to seek mechanical solutions. +Take that wall-clock, for example. Does the knowledge +of the exact hour solve the problems of that hour? What +is gained, in beauty or morality, to know that at this moment +it is eight minutes past the hour of ten?”</p> + +<p>“You oversimplify,” Haas retorted. “Someday the +clock may take its revenge.”</p> + +<p>Hanover leaned forwards.</p> + +<p>“As for your sneering at doers,” he remarked, “do you +consider us, then, as only thinkers and not doers?”</p> + +<p>Starkington smiled.</p> + +<p>“Of late, to be truthful, we have been neither. Now +we must be both.”</p> + +<p>Lucoville, who had been standing at a window staring +into the street, swung about.</p> + +<p>“Look here,” he said flatly. “Dragomiloff has sailed. +He has left the country. It is doubtful that he will return. +Why do we not give up this senseless chase? We +can rebuild the Bureau ourselves. Dragomiloff began it +with one—himself—and we are four.”</p> + +<p>“Give up the chase?” Haas was shocked. “Senseless? +How could we rebuild the Bureau if the first thing +we give up is not the chase, but our principles?”</p> + +<p>Lucoville bowed his head.</p> + +<p>“You are right, of course. I was not thinking. Well, +then, what is our next step?”</p> + +<p>Haas answered him. The thin flame of a man arose +and bent over the table, his huge forehead puckered.</p> + +<p>“There is a ship sailing at four this afternoon—the<span class="pagenum" id="Page_137">137</span> +<i>Oriental Star</i>—from Dearborn Slip. It is the fastest +ship on the Pacific run. It should easily dock in Hawaii +a day in advance of the <i>Eastern Clipper</i>’s arrival. I suggest +that we be waiting for Dragomiloff when he arrives +in Honolulu. And that we be more careful than our +predecessors when we meet him.”</p> + +<p>“It is an excellent idea,” Hanover agreed enthusiastically. +“He will feel himself safe.”</p> + +<p>“The Chief never feels himself safe,” Starkington commented. +“It is only that he does not allow his feeling of +un-safety to disturb him. Well, gentlemen; does Haas’s +suggestion sit well with you?”</p> + +<p>There was a moment’s silence. Then Lucoville shook +his head.</p> + +<p>“I do not believe it necessary that we all travel. Haas +has still not recovered fully from his wound. Also, I do +not believe it well to put all our eggs in one basket. I +suggest that Haas remain. There may well be need for +some action from the mainland.”</p> + +<p>This suggestion was carefully considered by the other +three. Starkington nodded.</p> + +<p>“I agree. Haas?”</p> + +<p>The small intense man smiled ruefully.</p> + +<p>“I should, of course, enjoy being in at the kill. But I +must bow to the logic of Lucoville’s argument. I also +agree.”</p> + +<p>Hanover nodded his acceptance.</p> + +<p>“We have sufficient funds?”</p> + +<p>Starkington reached over and extracted an envelope +from his desk.</p> + +<p>“This was delivered by messenger this morning. Hall +has signed a paper giving me power of withdrawal of our +funds.”</p> + +<p>Hanover raised his eyebrows.</p> + +<p>“He has traveled with Dragomiloff, then.”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_138">138</span></p> + +<p>“With the daughter, rather,” Haas corrected with a +smile. “Poor Hall! Trapped by love into acquiring a +father-in-law he has paid to have killed!”</p> + +<p>“Hall’s logic is tainted by emotion,” Starkington commented. +“The fate of the emotional is not only predictable, +but usually deserved.” He arose. “Well, then, +I shall arrange for our passage.” He stared at Lucoville +in sudden concern. “Why do you frown?”</p> + +<p>“The food aboard ship,” Lucoville sighed unhappily. +“Do you suppose they will be able to provide fresh vegetables +for the entire trip?”</p> + +<div class="tb">* * * * *</div> + +<p>The edge of the sun was breaking evenly over the eastern +horizon. Winter Hall, enjoying the warm breeze of +the Pacific morning, was suddenly aware of a presence at +his elbow. He turned to find Dragomiloff staring off into +the distance.</p> + +<p>“Good morning!” Hall smiled. “Did you sleep +well?”</p> + +<p>Dragomiloff was forced to return the smile.</p> + +<p>“As well as could be expected,” was his dry reply.</p> + +<p>“When I find it difficult to drop off to sleep,” Hall offered, +“I usually walk the deck. I find that exercise aids +me in falling asleep.”</p> + +<p>“It was certainly not lack of exercise.” Dragomiloff +suddenly swung his gaze fully upon the tall, handsome +young man at his side. “I had a visitor last night before +the ship sailed.”</p> + +<p>Memory returned to Hall like a blow.</p> + +<p>“Gray! He was to investigate this ship!”</p> + +<p>“Yes. Gray dropped in to see me.”</p> + +<p>“Is he aboard?” Hall glanced about; his pleasant +smile had disappeared.</p> + +<p>“No. He did not sail with us. He remained.”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_139">139</span></p> + +<p>Hall stared at the small sandy-haired man beside him +with growing comprehension.</p> + +<p>“You killed him!”</p> + +<p>“Yes, I killed him. I was forced to.”</p> + +<p>Hall turned back to his contemplation of the sunrise. +A sternness had settled over his strong face.</p> + +<p>“You say you were forced to. Do I recognize in this +admission a change in your beliefs?”</p> + +<p>“No.” Dragomiloff shook his head. “Although all +beliefs must be amenable to change if thinking man is to +merit his ability to reason. I say forced to, because Gray +was my friend. In a way you might say he was my protégé. +It was in following my teachings that he attempted +my life. It was in recognition of the purity of his motives +that I took his.”</p> + +<p>Hall sighed wearily.</p> + +<p>“No, you have not changed. Tell me, when will this +madness end?”</p> + +<p>“Madness?” Dragomiloff shrugged his shoulders. +“Define your terms. What is sanity? To allow those +to live whose course of action leads to the taking of innocent +lives? At times, thousands of innocent lives?”</p> + +<p>“You certainly cannot be referring to John Gray!”</p> + +<p>“I am not. I am merely justifying the basis of my +teachings, which John Gray believed in, and which you +choose to call madness.”</p> + +<p>Hall stared at the other hopelessly.</p> + +<p>“But you have already admitted the fallacy of that philosophy. +Man cannot judge; he can only be judged. +And not by the individual. Only by the group.”</p> + +<p>“True. It was on this basis that you convinced me +that the aims of the Assassination Bureau were unworthy. +Or possibly a better word would be ‘premature.’ For +the Bureau itself, you must remember, is a group, representative<span class="pagenum" id="Page_140">140</span> +of society itself. Picture a Bureau, if you +would, encompassing all mankind. Then the arguments +you used to convince me would no longer be valid. But +no matter. In any event, you did convince me, and I +did undertake the task of having myself assassinated. +Unfortunately, the very perfection of the organization has +worked against me.”</p> + +<p>“Perfection!” Hall cried in exasperation. “How can +you use that word? They have failed to kill you in at +least six or eight attempts!”</p> + +<p>“That failure is proof of the perfection,” Dragomiloff +stated gravely. “I see you do not understand. Failures +are calculable; for the Bureau contains within it certain +checks and balances. The failures prove the rightness +of these checks and balances.”</p> + +<p>Hall stared at the small man at his side in amazement.</p> + +<p>“You are unbelievable! Tell me, when will this—very +well, I shall not use the word ‘madness’—when will +this adventure, then, end?”</p> + +<p>To his surprise Dragomiloff smiled in quite a friendly +manner.</p> + +<p>“I like that word ‘adventure.’ All life is an adventure, +but we do not appreciate it until life itself is in jeopardy. +When will it end? When we end, I suppose. When our +brains cease to function; when we join the worms and the +non-thinkers. In my particular case,” he continued, noting +Hall’s barely concealed impatience, “at the end of a +period of one year from the time of my original instructions +to Haas.”</p> + +<p>“And that time is well along. In less than three +months your contract will have expired. What then?”</p> + +<p>To his surprise Dragomiloff’s smile suddenly faded.</p> + +<p>“I do not know. I cannot believe that the organization +I have built up so painstakingly will allow me to live<span class="pagenum" id="Page_141">141</span> +the full period. That would be a negation of its perfection.”</p> + +<p>“But certainly you do not want them to succeed?”</p> + +<p>Dragomiloff clasped his hands tightly. His face was +frowning and serious.</p> + +<p>“I do not know. It is something that has been bothering +me more and more as the weeks and months have +passed.”</p> + +<p>“You are an amazing person! In what way has it +been bothering you?”</p> + +<p>The small light-haired man faced his larger companion.</p> + +<p>“I am not sure that I wish to be saved by the expiration +of a time limit. Time should be the master of +people, and not the servant. Time, you see, is the one +perfect machine, whose gears are set by the stars, whose +hands are controlled by the infinite. I have also built a +perfect machine, the Bureau. But the Bureau must depend +upon itself to demonstrate that perfection. It must +not be saved from its shortcomings by the inexorable function +of another, and greater, machine.”</p> + +<p>“But yet you are attempting to take advantage of the +time element for your own salvation,” Hall pointed out, +intrigued as always by the workings of the other’s mind.</p> + +<p>“I am human,” Dragomiloff replied sadly. “Possibly, +in the long run, this may prove to be the fatal weakness +of my philosophy.”</p> + +<p>Without further comment he turned and walked slowly +and heavily to the doors leading to the inner parts of the +ship. Hall stared after the man a moment, and then felt +his arm touched from the other side. He swung about +to face Grunya.</p> + +<p>“What have you been saying to my father?” she demanded. +“He looked quite shaken.”</p> + +<p>“It is what your father has been saying to himself,”<span class="pagenum" id="Page_142">142</span> +Hall replied. He took her arm and they began strolling +along the deck. “There is an instinct within each of us +to fight to retain life. But there is also within each of +us a hidden death-wish, which uses many excuses for justification. +We have yet to see which dominates in the +life of your strange father.”</p> + +<p>“Or in his death,” she murmured, and clung fiercely +to the protective arm of her loved one.</p> +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> + +<div class="chapter"> +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_143">143</span></p> + +<h2 class="nobreak" id="Chapter_XVI"><i>Chapter XVI</i></h2> +</div> + +<p>The days aboard the <i>Eastern Clipper</i> passed swiftly +and pleasantly. Grunya basked each day in the warm +sun, lying in her deck-chair, and acquired a deep tan, as +did Hall. Dragomiloff, however, although spending an +equal number of hours on the sun-swept deck, seemed +immune to the power of the burning rays and remained +as pale as ever. Hall and Dragomiloff seemed to have +declared a moratorium on philosophical discussion; their +talk now ran more to the schools of bonito and albacore +that often played in the wake behind the ship, or to the +excellent cuisine served aboard, or even at times to their +respective deck-tennis scores.</p> + +<p>And then one morning, as if it had never been, the trip +was over. They awoke this day and came on deck to +find themselves in the shadow of towering Diamond Head +at the entrance to the island of Oahu, with the port city +of Honolulu lying white and glistening in the background. +Small canoes with lei-laden natives were already racing +towards the ship. Below, in the bowels of the giant liner, +stokers were leaning quietly upon their blackened shovels; +the great engines had slowed and the ship was barely +making way.</p> + +<p>“Beautiful!” Grunya murmured, and turned to Hall. +“Is it not beautiful, Winter?”</p> + +<p>“Almost as beautiful as you are,” Hall replied jocularly, +and turned to Dragomiloff. “Ten weeks,” he said lightly.<span class="pagenum" id="Page_144">144</span> +“In just ten weeks, sir, our relationship will change. You +shall become my father-in-law.”</p> + +<p>“And no longer your friend?” Dragomiloff laughed.</p> + +<p>“Always my friend.” Hall frowned slightly. “By the +way, what are your plans now? Do you think the other +members of the Bureau will follow you here?”</p> + +<p>Dragomiloff’s smile did not lessen in the least.</p> + +<p>“Follow me? They are here now. Or most of them. +They would leave at least one on the mainland, of course.”</p> + +<p>“But how could they arrive sooner than we?”</p> + +<p>“By faster ship. I would judge they took the <i>Oriental +Star</i> the afternoon after we sailed. The discovery of +Gray’s body would tell them our ship, and hence our destination. +They will have docked last evening. They +will be on hand when we disembark, do not fear.”</p> + +<p>“But how can you be so sure?” Grunya demanded.</p> + +<p>“By placing myself in their position and calculating +what I would do under the same circumstances. No, my +dear, I am not wrong. They will be on hand to greet me.”</p> + +<p>Grunya reached over to grasp his arm, fear growing in +her eyes.</p> + +<p>“But, Father, what will you do?”</p> + +<p>“Do not worry, my dear. I shall not fall victim to +them, if that is what you fear. Now pay close heed: several +days before sailing I sent a letter on the mail packet +making reservations for the two of you at the Queen Anne +Inn. There will also be a car and driver available whenever +you wish. I myself will not be able to join you, but +as soon as I am settled you shall hear from me.”</p> + +<p>“For the two of us?” Hall was surprised. “But you +did not even know I would be coming!”</p> + +<p>Dragomiloff smiled broadly.</p> + +<p>“I said I always put myself in the other fellow’s boots. +In your place I would never allow a girl as beautiful as<span class="pagenum" id="Page_145">145</span> +my Grunya to escape me. My dear Hall, I knew you +would be aboard this ship.”</p> + +<p>He turned back to the rail. The native-filled canoes +were now bobbing alongside the ship; young boys dressed +only in the native <em>molo</em> were diving for coins flung by the +passengers into the clear water of the harbor entrance. +The white buildings along the quay reflected back the +morning sun. The giant liner stopped; a slim cruiser +flashed from shore carrying the pilot and the Chinese +porters who would take off the luggage.</p> + +<p>A loud hoot broke the silence as the ship’s whistle announced +their proud arrival. The pilot boat slipped +alongside and the officials, neat in their peaked caps and +white shorts, clambered aboard. They were followed by +a string of blue-clad, pig-tailed porters who scampered +up the Jacob’s ladder, their sloping straw hats bobbing +in unison, and disappeared into the inner passageway.</p> + +<p>Dragomiloff turned to the other two.</p> + +<p>“If you will pardon me, I must finish my packing,” he +said lightly, and with a wave disappeared into the interior +of the ship.</p> + +<p>The pilot appeared on the bridge and the <i>Eastern Clipper</i>’s +engines began to rumble, changing to a higher pitch +as the ship proceeded landwards.</p> + +<p>“We had best get below and see to our luggage,” Hall +remarked.</p> + +<p>“Oh, Winter, must we so soon? This is so lovely! +See how the mountains seem to sweep up from the city. +The clouds are like puff-balls hanging over the peaks!” +She paused and the animation died upon her face. “Winter; +what will Father do?”</p> + +<p>“I should not worry about your father, dear. They +may not be here. And even if they are, it is doubtful that +they would attempt anything in this crowd. Come.”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_146">146</span></p> + +<p>They went below as the steamer edged closer to the +pier. Lines were cast ashore and willing hands linked +them to stanchions set in the dock. The ship’s winches +began turning, winding in the cable, pulling the liner into +position along the dock. A band broke into music, playing +the famous “Aloha.” Screams of recognition broke +out as passengers and friends found each other in the +crowd; handkerchiefs were waved frantically. The gangplank +edged downwards; the band played louder.</p> + +<p>Hall, returning to deck after assigning his luggage to +a porter, came to stand at the rail staring down at the +animated faces strung out behind the railing below. Suddenly +he came erect with a start; staring him in the eye +was Starkington!</p> + +<p>The head of the Chicago branch of the Bureau smiled +delightedly and waved his hand. Hall’s glance slid along +the upturned faces and stopped at another. Hanover +was also there, closer to the exit. The rest, Hall was +sure, were placed at equally strategic positions.</p> + +<p>The gangplank fell into place and the barriers were +dropped. Friends and passengers swarmed up and down +the gangplank, pushing past heavily laden porters struggling +down, swaying perilously beneath their loads. +Starkington was mounting the gangplank, shoving his +way through the throng. Hall came forward to meet him.</p> + +<p>Starkington was smiling happily.</p> + +<p>“Hello, Hall! It’s nice to see you. How have you +been?”</p> + +<p>“Starkington! You must not do this thing!”</p> + +<p>Starkington raised his eyebrows.</p> + +<p>“Must not do what thing? Must not keep our sacred +word? Must not remain true to a promise? A commitment?” +His smile remained, but the eyes behind the +smile were deadly serious. They swung over Hall’s shoulder, +searching the face of each passenger surging towards<span class="pagenum" id="Page_147">147</span> +the gangplank. “He has no escape this time, Hall. +Lucoville came aboard with the pilot boat; he is below +at this moment. Hanover is guarding the dock. The +Chief made a grave mistake to corner himself in this +manner.”</p> + +<p>Hall gritted his teeth.</p> + +<p>“I shall not permit it. I shall speak to the authorities.”</p> + +<p>“You will speak to no one.” Starkington’s tone was +pedantic; he might have been a professor explaining some +obvious point to a rather dull student. “You have given +your word of honor. To the Chief himself, as well as +to all of us. You did not speak to the authorities before, +and you will not speak to them now....”</p> + +<p>He broke off as a Chinese porter, burdened beneath +a mountain of suitcases, stumbled into him with a sing-song +excuse. Lucoville appeared at their side. He +smiled happily at the sight of Hall.</p> + +<p>“Hall! This is a pleasure. How was the trip? Did +you enjoy it? Tell me,” he continued, lowering his voice, +“how were the vegetables aboard this ship? For the return +voyage I should prefer a cuisine more in keeping +with my tastes. The <i>Oriental Star</i> was pitifully short on +both vegetables and fruit. Meat, and more meat! I +suppose they thought they were doing the passengers a +favor....”</p> + +<p>He seemed to realize that Starkington was waiting, for +he dropped the subject and turned to the other.</p> + +<p>“Dragomiloff is below. He booked cabin No. 31 under +a different name; I have placed an outside latch on +the cabin to prevent his escape. However, there is still +the porthole....”</p> + +<p>“Hanover is watching for that.” He turned to the +white face of Hall beside him. “Hadn’t you better go +ashore, Hall? Believe me, there is nothing you can do +to prevent this.”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_148">148</span></p> + +<p>“I shall remain,” Hall exclaimed, and then wheeled +as a hand clutched his arm convulsively. “Grunya! +Grunya, my dear!”</p> + +<p>“Winter!” she cried, and faced Starkington with burning +eyes. “What are you doing here? You shall not +harm my father!”</p> + +<p>“We have discussed this before,” Starkington replied +smoothly. “You are familiar with our mission, and you +are also familiar with your father’s instructions. I would +suggest, Miss Dragomiloff, that you go ashore. There is +nothing you can do.”</p> + +<p>“Go ashore?” Suddenly she lifted her head in resolution. +“Yes, I shall go ashore! And I shall return with +the police! I do not care what my father’s instructions +were; you shall not kill him!” She swung to Hall, her +eyes flashing. “And you! You stand there! What +kind of a man are you? You are worse than these madmen, +for they believe themselves right, while you know +they are wrong. And yet you make no move!”</p> + +<p>She tore her arm loose from Hall’s grip and ran for the +gangplank, pushing her way through the thinning crowd. +Starkington looked after her, nodding his head sagely.</p> + +<p>“You have made a very good choice, Hall. She is a +spirited girl. Ah, well, I’m afraid our schedule must be +accelerated a bit. I had hoped to wait until the ship was +deserted. However, most of the passengers seem to have +left. Are you coming?”</p> + +<p>This last was said in such a polite voice that Hall could +scarcely believe he was being invited to witness the execution +of a man, and that man Grunya’s father. Starkington +smiled at him quite congenially and took his arm.</p> + +<p>Hall walked beside the other as if in a dream. It was +not believable! One might think he was merely being +taken to visit a friend for an afternoon’s game of whist!<span class="pagenum" id="Page_149">149</span> +Beside him as they descended the broad carpeted staircase +Starkington was chattering quite pleasantly.</p> + +<p>“Travel by ship is really delightful, don’t you think? +We all enjoyed it very much. Lucoville here, of course, +constantly complained about the food, but.... Ah, here +we are.”</p> + +<p>He bent and listened at the door. Faint sounds could +be heard from within. He removed the mechanism +Lucoville had placed upon the latch and turned to the +others.</p> + +<p>“Lucoville, stand to that side. Hall, I would suggest +you leave the alcove. The Chief is certain to be prepared +to defend himself, and I should not like to see harm +come to you.”</p> + +<p>“But you may be killed!” Hall cried.</p> + +<p>“Assuredly. However, between Lucoville and myself, +one of us should be able to complete the assignment. +And that is all that counts.”</p> + +<p>He withdrew a revolver from his pocket and held it in +readiness. To his side Lucoville had done the same. +Hall stared at the two in awe; neither exhibited the slightest +fear. Starkington took a key from his pocket and +inserted it in the lock, making no attempt to mask the +sound.</p> + +<p>“Back, Hall,” he commanded, and in the same moment +swung the door wide and charged within. At the sight +that faced them Starkington paused, mouth agape, while +Hall burst into laughter.</p> + +<p>There on the bunk, twisting and squirming, lay a Chinese, +stripped to his underwear and lashed to the bunk. +His mouth was firmly gagged, and his eyes were flashing +with anger. Even as he twisted his head, frantically imploring +his discoverers to free him, they could see the +ragged edges where his pig-tail had been severed.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_150">150</span></p> + +<p>“Dragomiloff!” Lucoville gasped. “He must have +been one of the porters that passed us!” He sprang for +the door, but Starkington’s arm barred his way.</p> + +<p>“It is too late,” he said evenly. “We must begin our +search anew.”</p> + +<p>There was a commotion in the corridor and Grunya +appeared, accompanied by several of the island police, +night-sticks poised. At the sight of Hall’s convulsed +shouts of laughter, Grunya paused uncertainly. The determination +of her attitude withered in face of that hilarity. +Starkington raised his eyebrows politely.</p> + +<p>The police took in the scene at once and then, hastening +forwards, released the poor Chinese, who immediately +broke into a gale of chatter, pointing first to his severed +pig-tail, then to his nearly nude body, and then demonstrated +with waving arms the means by which he had been +overcome and bound. This all was accompanied by a +constant barrage of language. The sergeant of police +broke in several times to ask questions in the same tongue, +and then turned to Starkington sternly.</p> + +<p>“Where is the man responsible for this outrage?” he +demanded in English.</p> + +<p>“I do not know,” Starkington avowed. But then his +sense of propriety came to his aid. He reached into his +pocket and extracted a fistful of notes, stripping several +from the top.</p> + +<p>“Here,” he said in a kindly voice to the still-outraged +Chinese. “You have been no less victimized than ourselves. +This will partially compensate for your disgrace. +But,” and his voice changed to encompass deep regret, +“I do not know what will compensate for ours!”</p> +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> + +<div class="chapter"> +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_151">151</span></p> + +<h2 class="nobreak" id="Chapter_XVII"><i>Chapter XVII</i></h2> +</div> + +<p>Two weeks passed before Grunya and Hall received instructions +which were to lead to meeting Dragomiloff. +The time had been spent in taking advantage of the car +and driver to visit the lovely vistas of the tropical city. +The driver had appeared at the Queen Anne Inn the +morning after their arrival bearing a note which read:</p> + +<div class="blockquot ti"> + +<p>“My children, This will introduce Chan, an old and trusted +employee of S. Constantine & Co. He will drive you where +you want and when you want, save for the few errands I +shall require of him. Do not ask him any questions, for he +will not answer them. I am well and happy, and will contact +you when conditions are ripe. My love to my dear +Grunya and a firm handclasp to my friend Hall.”</p> +</div> + +<p>There had been no signature, but none was needed. +Satisfied that Dragomiloff was safe, they were able to relax. +Their time was spent in typical tourist fashion. +They swam at Waikiki, and watched the intrepid surf-riders +come sweeping down the foaming ridges of the +ocean, racing bent-kneed for the palm-lined shore. They +strolled the colorful streets of the city, marveling at the +many sights. They enjoyed visiting the fish market on +King Street with the vendors crying their wares in eight +different languages, or sitting beside Kewolo Basin while +the Japanese sampans came wallowing in, loaded to the +rail with their catch. Chan, imperturbable, neither offered +suggestions nor comment; he drove where he was +told and nothing more.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_152">152</span></p> + +<p>Quite often their evenings were joined by Starkington, +Hanover, and Lucoville. Grunya, despite herself, could +not help but like the three. Their minds and their attitudes +reminded her so much of her father. She was secretly +ashamed of her scene aboard ship; she felt it had +demonstrated a lack of faith in her father. Somehow, +her camaraderie with the trio seemed to her to partially +compensate for this failing. Too, each day that passed +brought the end of the contract closer, and lessened the +danger of the Bureau’s success.</p> + +<p>One evening this time element had arisen in discussion +with the three congenial assassins.</p> + +<p>“There are less than two months remaining,” Hall mentioned +as the five sat at dinner. He laughed. “Believe +me, I do not object to your passing the days in this pleasant +fashion. In fact, it pleases me to see the funds of +the Bureau dissipated in this innocuous way. But I am +curious. How does it happen that you are not searching +for Dragomiloff?”</p> + +<p>“But we are searching,” Starkington corrected him +gently. “In our own manner. And our search will be +successful. I cannot, of course, disclose our plan, but +this much I can say: he spent two days at Nanakuli, and +the following three days at Waianae. Lucoville investigated +in one case, and Hanover in the other. But he +had already left.”</p> + +<p>Hall’s eyebrows lifted mockingly.</p> + +<p>“You did not investigate yourself?”</p> + +<p>“No.” There was no embarrassment in Starkington’s +tone. “I was busy keeping an eye on you and Miss +Dragomiloff, although I am sure that you know no more +about his whereabouts than we do.”</p> + +<p>He lifted his glass.</p> + +<p>“Let us drink a toast. To the end of this business.”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_153">153</span></p> + +<p>“I will be happy to drink to that,” Hall remarked +evenly. “Though we mean different things.”</p> + +<p>“It is the difficulty of all language,” Starkington admitted +with a rueful smile. “Definition.”</p> + +<p>“It is not a difficulty,” Hanover objected. “Definition +is the very basis of language. It is the skeleton upon +which the sound-forms are hung that make a language.”</p> + +<p>“You are speaking about the same language,” Lucoville +stated solemnly, although his eyes were twinkling. +“I am sure that Starkington and Hall are speaking about—or +at least are speaking—different languages.”</p> + +<p>“I thought I was speaking, not about language, but +about a toast,” Starkington corrected mildly. He lifted +his glass. “If there are no more interruptions....”</p> + +<p>But there was one more.</p> + +<p>“In my opinion,” Grunya said archly, her eyes reflecting +her enjoyment of the repartee, “the important point +is that each be true to his own definition.”</p> + +<p>“I agree!” Lucoville cried.</p> + +<p>“And I,” added Hanover.</p> + +<p>“I....” Starkington, who had set down his glass, +raised it once more. “I ... am thirsty.” With no further +ado he drank. With a laugh, the others joined him.</p> + +<p>As they strolled homeward in the balmy night air beneath +the giant hibiscus that lined their way, Hall took +Grunya’s hand in his and felt her fingers tighten.</p> + +<p>“How could they have known where Father has been?” +she inquired worriedly. “Certainly these islands are too +large and too numerous for them to have accidentally +stumbled upon his trail.”</p> + +<p>“They are very clever men,” Hall replied thoughtfully. +“But your father is also clever. I do not think you need +worry.”</p> + +<p>They swung into the large entrance to the hotel. Beyond,<span class="pagenum" id="Page_154">154</span> +in the bougainvillea-covered courtyard, a <em>luau</em> was +being held and the soft music of guitars could be heard. +At their entrance the receptionist moved away from the +door where he had been watching the festivities and came +forwards. With their keys, Hall received a sealed note; +he tore it open and read it as Grunya waited.</p> + +<div class="blockquot ti"> + +<p>“Dear Hall: My haven is ready at last; my haven and my +trap. It has taken time but it has been worth it. Go to +your rooms and then descend the rear staircase. Chan will +be waiting behind the hotel. Your luggage can be picked +up later, although where we shall be staying we shall require +few of the symbols of so-called civilization.”</p> +</div> + +<p>There was a strange postscript, underlined for emphasis:</p> + +<div class="blockquot"> + +<p>“<em>It is vital that your time-piece be exact when you meet me.</em>”</p> +</div> + +<p>Hall thanked the clerk politely and carelessly thrust the +note into his pocket. A slight shake of his head discouraged +Grunya from asking questions until they were on +the upper floor away from prying eyes.</p> + +<p>“What can Father mean by a haven and a trap?” +Grunya asked anxiously. “Or by his request that your +time-piece be exact when we meet?”</p> + +<p>But Hall could offer no suggestion. They swiftly +packed their suitcases and left them within the confines +of their rooms. A telephone call to the island observatory +confirmed the accuracy of Hall’s pocket-watch, and +moments later they had descended the rear staircase and +were peering through the darkness of the moonless night.</p> + +<p>A deeper shadow delineated the car. They slid into +the rear seat while Chan put the automobile into motion. +Without lights they crept through the obscure alley until +they came upon a cross-street. Chan flicked on the head-lamps +and swung into the deserted avenue. A mile or so +from the beach he turned again, this time into a wide +highway, maintaining his speed.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_155">155</span></p> + +<p>Until now Hall had remained silent. Now he leaned +forwards, speaking quietly into the chauffeur’s ear.</p> + +<p>“Where are we to meet Mr. Constantine?” he asked.</p> + +<p>The Chinese shrugged. “My instructions are to take +you beyond Nuuanu Pali pass,” he said in his clipped but +accurate English. “There we will be met. Beyond this +I can tell you nothing.”</p> + +<p>Hall leaned back; Grunya clasped his hand, her eyes +sparkling at the thought of seeing her father once again. +The car rode smoothly along the deserted road, its head-lamps +cutting a wedge in the hazy darkness. Higher and +higher they mounted into the hills as the lights of the city +grew smaller in the distance below and then finally disappeared. +A sharpness sprang into the air. Without +warning Chan increased the speed of the car and they +were flung back against the seats, the wind rushing against +their faces.</p> + +<p>“What...?” Hall began.</p> + +<p>“The car behind,” Chan explained calmly. “It has +been following us since we left. Now is the time to increase +our lead, I believe.”</p> + +<p>Hall swung about. Below them, twisting and turning +on the winding road, twin head-lamps marked the passage +of a vehicle behind. There was sudden bumping as their +car left the macadam; a swirl of dust blocked his vision.</p> + +<p>“They will have marked our turn-off!” Hall cried.</p> + +<p>“Of course,” Chan replied smoothly. “My instructions +are not to lose them.”</p> + +<p>He handled the automobile expertly along the winding +dirt road. Dust swirled about them; Hall wished they +had put the side-curtains in place. They had passed the +ridge of the pass and were now descending. As their +vehicle made sharp turns Hall could look back and note, +higher on the mountain, the twin shafts of light that +marked their pursuers.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_156">156</span></p> + +<p>Without warning Chan applied the brake; both Grunya +and Hall were flung forwards. The car came to a stop; +the door was thrown wide and a small figure sprang inside. +Immediately they were in motion once again, accelerating +through the darkness.</p> + +<p>“Who...?”</p> + +<p>There was a low chuckle.</p> + +<p>“Whom did you expect?” Dragomiloff inquired. He +leaned over and flicked on a small lamp set in the back +seat of the swaying car. Grunya gasped at his appearance. +Dragomiloff was wearing a jersey and trousers, +both once white, but now tattered and marked by the +brush. On his feet were a pair of stained tennis-shoes. +He kissed his daughter fondly and clasped Hall’s outstretched +hand. Then, switching off the lamp, he leaned +back smiling in the darkness.</p> + +<p>“How do you like my costume?” he asked. “Away +from the large cities there is no need for formal clothing. +Once we are settled, we may even assume the native <em>molo</em>. +Hall and I, that is. Grunya, you shall have your choice +of a <em>muumuu</em> or a <em>pa-u</em>, as you wish.”</p> + +<p>“Father,” Grunya exclaimed. “You should see yourself! +You look like a beachcomber! Where is that dear +old solemn Uncle Sergius that I used to tickle and fling +pillows at?”</p> + +<p>“He is dead, my dear,” replied Dragomiloff with a twinkle. +“Your Mr. Hall killed him with a few quiet thrusts +of logic. The second deadliest weapon that I have ever +encountered.”</p> + +<p>“And the deadliest?” Hall inquired.</p> + +<p>“You shall see.” Dragomiloff turned to his daughter. +“Grunya, my dear, you had best sleep. Explanations can +wait. We still have several hours until we reach our destination.”</p> + +<p>Their car continued down the winding road, leading<span class="pagenum" id="Page_157">157</span> +now towards the eastern shore of the island. The clouds +had swept away; to the east the first faint strands of dawn +began to appear. Hall leaned towards Dragomiloff.</p> + +<p>“You know that we are being followed?”</p> + +<p>“Of course. We shall allow them to keep us in sight +until we pass the village of Haikuloa. From then on +there are no more turn-offs and they cannot mistake our +destination. After Haikuloa we can go our way.”</p> + +<p>“I do not understand this.” Hall stared at the small +man in frowning contemplation. “Are you the hare or +the hound in this weird chase?”</p> + +<p>“I am both. Throughout life, every man is both. The +chase is constant; only a man’s control of the elements +of the chase determines whether he be hare or hound.”</p> + +<p>“And you feel that you control these elements?”</p> + +<p>“Completely.”</p> + +<p>“And yet, you know,” Hall said, “they knew you were +in Nanakuli and Waianae.”</p> + +<p>“I wished them to. I planted the evidence that led +them there. I laid a trail to the west so they would follow +when you and Grunya headed east.”</p> + +<p>He laughed at the expression on Hall’s face.</p> + +<p>“Logic comes in many degrees, my friend. If I hold +a stone in one hand and you guess that hand correctly, +the following time I may switch hands. Or I may retain +it in the same hand, calculating you might think I would +switch. Or I might switch hands on the basis that you +would expect me to reason as I did. Or....”</p> + +<p>“I know,” Hall acknowledged. “It is an old theory +of the scales of intelligence. But I fail to see how it applies +here.”</p> + +<p>“I shall explain. First, as to how I marked my passage +west to Starkington’s satisfaction. I simply ordered +books in Russian from the largest bookstore in Honolulu +with instructions to deliver them to me at certain small<span class="pagenum" id="Page_158">158</span> +villages along the western coast. Starkington and the +others know I would not forego my studies under any circumstances. +Had I left a less subtle trail he might not +have been taken in, but I knew he would consider this an +unconscious gesture on my part.”</p> + +<p>“But he claimed you had actually visited those places!”</p> + +<p>“And I did. There is little bait in an empty hook. +However, once he felt he had marked me traveling west, +I was ready to lead him east. You and Grunya did this +excellently; I am sure that you sneaked down the rear +steps of the hotel quite dramatically. And I am equally +sure that Starkington watched you do so.”</p> + +<p>Hall stared at the smaller man.</p> + +<p>“You are amazing!”</p> + +<p>“Thank you.” There was no false modesty in the +tone. Dragomiloff lapsed into silence.</p> + +<p>The car had passed Haikuloa, and Chan was now intent +upon losing those in the following car. The car +raced along the narrow dirt road. Suddenly the ocean +was just below them, spreading out to the horizon and +the rising sun. With a swerve Chan swung off into the +brush, drove for several hundred yards, and braked. The +silence of the early morning surrounded them.</p> + +<p>“One other thing ...” Hall began.</p> + +<p>“Hush! They will be passing soon!”</p> + +<p>They waited in silence. Moments later the roar of a +heavy car came to their ears. It passed their hiding place +with a rush and disappeared on the road leading below. +Dragomiloff descended from the car with Hall and led +the way to the edge of the cliff upon which they had +stopped. Below them a line of thatched huts marked a +beach village. Dragomiloff pointed into the distance.</p> + +<p>“There. Do you see it? That small island off shore? +That is our haven.”</p> + +<p>Hall stared across the narrow expanse of water that<span class="pagenum" id="Page_159">159</span> +separated the island from the shore. The island was +quite small, less than a mile in length and something less +than half as much in width. Palm trees ringed the white +sand beach; on a small hummock in the center lay a large +thatched cottage. No sign of life could be discerned.</p> + +<p>Dragomiloff’s finger shifted.</p> + +<p>“That stretch of water between here and the island is +called the <em>Huhu Kai</em>—the angry sea.”</p> + +<p>“I have never seen water as calm,” Hall stated. “The +name appears to be some sort of joke.”</p> + +<p>“Do not think so. The floor of the ocean between the +shore and the island has a very strange configuration.” +He broke off this line of thought. “You remembered to +check the accuracy of your watch?”</p> + +<p>“I did. But why....”</p> + +<p>“Good! What hour do you have now?”</p> + +<p>Hall checked his watch.</p> + +<p>“Six forty-three.”</p> + +<p>Dragomiloff made a rapid calculation.</p> + +<p>“There is about one hour yet. Well, we can relax for +a bit.”</p> + +<p>But he did not seem to be able to relax. He paced +back and forth restlessly, and finally came to stand beside +Hall, peering down at the small thatched village beneath +them.</p> + +<p>“It will take them some time to descend by car; the +road is winding and often dangerous.” And then, apropos +of nothing in their previous conversation, he murmured, +“Righteousness. Morality and righteousness. +It is all that we have, but it is enough. Do you know, +Hall, that the motto of these islands is <em>Ua mau ke ea o ka +aina i ka pono</em>? It means: ‘The life of the land is preserved +in righteousness.’”</p> + +<p>“You’ve been here before?”</p> + +<p>“Oh, yes; many times. S. Constantine & Co. have<span class="pagenum" id="Page_160">160</span> +been importing from Hawaii for many years. I had +hoped....” He did not finish the thought but turned to +Hall almost fiercely. He seemed to be in the grip of some +sudden excitement.</p> + +<p>“What is the hour?”</p> + +<p>“Seven-oh-three.”</p> + +<p>“We must start. We shall leave Grunya here with +Chan; it is best. Leave your jacket, it will be warm. +Come; we go by foot.”</p> + +<p>Hall turned for one last glance at the sleeping girl +curled in a corner of the car. Chan was sitting imperturbably +in the front seat, his eyes staring straight ahead. +With a sigh the tall young man wheeled and followed +Dragomiloff through a narrow passage in the trees.</p> +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> + +<div class="chapter"> +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_161">161</span></p> + +<h2 class="nobreak" id="Chapter_XVIII"><i>Chapter XVIII</i></h2> +</div> + +<p>They came silently through the tall grass to the edge +of the palm fringe that bordered the white sand. The +water beyond was smooth as silk, the tiny wavelets breaking +on the shore in little ripples. In the clear air of +morning the tiny island stood sharp and white against +the green background of the sea. The sun, now well +above the horizon, hung like an orange ball in the east.</p> + +<p>Hall was panting from the exertion of their descent; +Dragomiloff showed no signs of effort. He swung about +to his companion, his eyes bright with anticipation.</p> + +<p>“The time!” he demanded.</p> + +<p>Hall stared at him, breathing deeply.</p> + +<p>“Why this constant attention to the hour?”</p> + +<p>“The time!” There was urgency in the smaller man’s +tone. Hall shrugged.</p> + +<p>“Seven-thirty-two.”</p> + +<p>Dragomiloff nodded in satisfaction and peered down +the beach. The row of thatched huts was spread out +below them. On the sand a line of hollowed-out canoes +was drawn up. The tide was rising, tugging at the canoes. +Even as they watched, a native emerged from one +of the huts, dragged the outermost canoes higher onto the +sand, and disappeared once again into the shadowed +doorway.</p> + +<p>The car used by their pursuers was stationed before +the largest of the huts, its wheels half-buried in the sand.<span class="pagenum" id="Page_162">162</span> +There was no one in sight. Dragomiloff studied the scene +with narrowed eyes, a calculating frown upon his face.</p> + +<p>“The time!”</p> + +<p>“Seven-thirty-four.”</p> + +<p>The smaller man nodded.</p> + +<p>“We must leave in exactly three minutes. When I +start to run across the sand, you will follow. We shall +launch that small canoe lying closest to us. I will enter +and you will push us off. We will paddle for the island.” +He paused in thought. “I had planned on their being in +sight, but no matter. We shall have to make some sort +of outcry....”</p> + +<p>“Outcry?” Hall stared at his companion. “You wish +to be caught?”</p> + +<p>“I wish to be followed. Wait—all is well.”</p> + +<p>Starkington had appeared from the large hut, followed +by Hanover and Lucoville. They stood scuffing their +feet in the sand, speaking with a native who stood tall +and majestic in the open doorway of the hut.</p> + +<p>“Excellent!” Dragomiloff’s eyes were glued upon the +trio. “The time?”</p> + +<p>“Exactly seven-thirty-seven.”</p> + +<p>“The hour! Now!”</p> + +<p>He dashed from their refuge, his feet light on the brilliant +sand. Hall, running hastily behind, almost tripped +but recovered himself in time. Dragomiloff had the small +canoe in the water; without hesitation he sprang inside. +With a heave Hall set them free and swung aboard, his +trouser legs dripping from their immersion. Dragomiloff +had already grasped a paddle and was sending them shooting +across the calm water. Hall lifted a paddle from the +bottom of the boat and joined the smaller man in propelling +their slight craft across the smooth sea.</p> + +<p>There was a loud shout from the trio on shore. They +came hurrying to the edge of the water. A moment later<span class="pagenum" id="Page_163">163</span> +they had clambered aboard a larger canoe and were bent +to the paddles. The native ran after them, calling something +in a loud voice, waving his hands frantically and +pointing seawards, but they paid him no heed. Dragomiloff +and Hall increased their efforts; their light canoe +momentarily widened the gap.</p> + +<p>“This is insane!” Hall gasped, the sweat pouring down +his face. “They are three! They will be on us long before +we reach the island! And even then that barren +rock is no refuge!”</p> + +<p>Dragomiloff offered no refutation. His strong back +bent and straightened as he lifted and lowered his paddle +steadily. Behind them the larger canoe was beginning +to gain ground; the distance between the two shallow +boats was lessening.</p> + +<p>Then, suddenly, Dragomiloff ceased paddling and +smiled grimly.</p> + +<p>“The hour,” he asked quietly. “What is the hour?”</p> + +<p>Hall paid no attention. His paddle was digging fiercely +into the smooth sea.</p> + +<p>“The hour,” Dragomiloff insisted calmly.</p> + +<p>With a muffled curse Hall threw down his paddle.</p> + +<p>“Then let them have you!” he cried in exasperation. +He dug into his pocket. “You and your ‘what is the +hour’! It is seven-forty-one!”</p> + +<p>And at that moment there was a slight tremor that ran +through their canoe. It was as if some giant hand had +nudged it gently. Hall looked up in surprise; the tremor +was repeated. Dragomiloff was leaning forwards intently, +his hands loose in his lap, staring in the direction +of the mainland. Hall swung about and viewed with +amazement the sight behind him.</p> + +<p>The canoe in pursuit had ceased to make headway. +Despite the power of the paddle-strokes of its occupants +it remained fixed, as if painted upon the broad ocean.<span class="pagenum" id="Page_164">164</span> +Then, slowly, it began to swing away in a wide circle, a +light wake behind it. The trio in the canoe dug more +desperately with their paddles, but to no avail. Hall +stared. Dragomiloff sat relaxed, viewing the sight with +graven face.</p> + +<p>On all sides of the restricted arena upon which this +drama was being played, the sea remained calm. But +in the center, less than four hundred yards from where +they lay rocking gently on the bosom of the ocean, the +great forces of nature were at work. Slowly the shining +waters increased their colossal sweep; the ripples on the +surface took on a circular shape. The large canoe rode +the current evenly, hugging the rim of the circle tightly; +the Lilliputian efforts of the paddlers were lost against +that vast array of strength.</p> + +<p>The motion of the sea increased. It circled with ever-increasing +velocity. Before Hall’s horrified eyes the +smooth surface began slowly to dip towards the center, +to begin the formation of a gigantic flat cone with smooth, +shining sides. The canoe coasted free along the green +walls, tilted but locked in place by the giant centrifugal +force. The occupants had ceased paddling; their hands +were fastened to the sides of the vessel while they watched +their certain death approach. One paddle suddenly +slipped from the canoe; it accompanied their dizzying +path, lying flat and rigid upon the firm waters at their +side.</p> + +<p>Hall turned to Dragomiloff in wrath.</p> + +<p>“You are a devil!” he cried.</p> + +<p>But the other merely continued to watch the frightful +scene with no expression at all upon his face.</p> + +<p>“The tide,” he murmured, as if to himself. “It is the +tide. What force can compare with the power of nature!”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_165">165</span></p> + +<p>Hall swung back to the dreadful sight, his jaws +clenched.</p> + +<p>Deeper and deeper the cone pitched, faster and faster +the glassy walls rushed around, the canoe held fixedly +against the glistening slope. Hall’s eyes raised momentarily +to the cliff above the village. The sun, reflected +from some heliographic point, located some part of their +automobile. For one brief instant he wondered if +Grunya were watching; then his eyes were drawn back +to the sight before him.</p> + +<p>The faces of the three were clearly visible. No fear +appeared, nor did they cry out. They seemed to be discussing +something in an animated fashion; probably, Hall +thought with wonder, the mysteries of the death they +would so soon encounter, or the beauty of the trap into +which they had fallen.</p> + +<p>The vortex deepened. A sound seemed to come from +the depths of the racing cone, a tortured sound, the sound +of rushing water. The canoe was spinning at an incredible +rate. Then it suddenly seemed to slip lower on the +burnished slope, to be seeking the oblivion of the depths +of its own will. Hall cried out unconsciously. But the +slim vessel held, lower in the pit of speeding water, whirling +madly. Swifter and swifter it fled along the green +shining walls. Hall felt his sight sucked into the abyss +before him; his hands were white on the sides of their +rocking canoe.</p> + +<p>Starkington raised a hand in a brave salute; his head +lifted with a smile in their direction. Instantly he was +thrown from the canoe. His body raced alongside the +small craft, spread-eagled upon the hard water. Then, +before Hall’s eyes, it slid into the center of the vortex and +disappeared.</p> + +<p>Hall swung about, facing Dragomiloff.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_166">166</span></p> + +<p>“You are a devil!” he whispered.</p> + +<p>Dragomiloff paid no attention. His eyes were fixed +pensively upon the maelstrom. Hall turned back, unable +to keep his eyes from the gruesome sight before them.</p> + +<p>The large canoe had slipped lower along the sides of +the whirling death. Lucoville’s mouth was open; he appeared +to be shouting some triumphant greeting to the +fate that was reaching out with damp fingers to gather +them in. Hanover sat calmly.</p> + +<p>The boat slid the last few feet; the bow touched the +vortex. With a shriek of rending wood the canoe twisted +in the air and then disappeared, sucked into the oily maw, +crushed by the enormous forces pressing in upon it. Its +two occupants were still seated bravely within; they +seemed to swirl into the air and then were swallowed by +the voracious sea.</p> + +<p>The growling of the rushing ocean began to abate, as +if sated by this sacrifice of flesh given it. Slowly the +huge cone flattened; the vortex rose evenly as the sides +assumed horizontal shape. A low wave traveled from +the calming waters, rocking their canoe gently, reminding +them of their salvation. Hall shuddered.</p> + +<p>Behind him there was a stirring.</p> + +<p>“We had best return now.” Dragomiloff’s tone was +even.</p> + +<p>Hall stared at his companion with loathing.</p> + +<p>“You killed them! As surely as if you had struck +them down with a knife or a gun!”</p> + +<p>“Killed them? Yes. You wished them killed, did +you not? You wanted the Assassination Bureau wiped +out.”</p> + +<p>“I wanted them disbanded! I wanted them to cease +their activities!”</p> + +<p>“One cannot disband ideas. Convictions.” His voice +was cold. His eyes roamed the empty sea where the<span class="pagenum" id="Page_167">167</span> +large canoe had been sucked into eternity. Sadness entered +his tone. “They were my friends.”</p> + +<p>“Friends!”</p> + +<p>“Yes.” Dragomiloff picked up his paddle and set it +in the water. “We had best return now.”</p> + +<p>Hall sighed and dipped his paddle into the sea. The +canoe moved sluggishly and then gained speed. They +passed over the spot where Starkington and the others +had met death. Dragomiloff paused for one brief moment, +as if in salute to the lost members of the Bureau.</p> + +<p>“We shall have to cable Haas,” he remarked slowly, +and resumed the even rhythm of his paddling.</p> +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> + +<div class="chapter"> +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_168">168</span></p> + +<h2 class="nobreak" id="Chapter_XIX"><i>Chapter XIX</i></h2> +</div> + +<p>Haas, in San Francisco, waited impatiently for word +from the three who had sailed in pursuit of the ex-Chief +of the Assassination Bureau. The days passed swiftly, +each day bringing closer the end of the compact. Then, +at long last, a letter arrived via the mail packet.</p> + +<div class="blockquot"> +<p> +“Dear Haas: +</p> + +<p class="ti">“I can see you pacing your room, muttering to yourself +in Greek and Hebrew, wondering if we have fallen victim to +the lazy charm of this beautiful island. Or if we have fallen +victim to D. You can relax; we have done neither.</p> + +<p class="ti">“But the task has not been easy. D. laid a very neat +trail to the west; we are convinced his true flight will be to +the east. We are watching his daughter and Hall carefully. +The first move they make in this direction will place us on +the scent.</p> + +<p class="ti">“We realize that time is running out, but do not fear. The +Bureau has never failed and will not fail now. You can +expect a coded cable any day.</p> + +<p class="ti">“By the way, some incidental intelligence: D. has also +used the name Constantine in his travels. We discovered +this when we located him aboard the <i>Eastern Clipper</i>. Yes, +he escaped. When we get together, after this is all over, we +will tell you the whole story.</p> + +<p class="right"> +“Starkington. +</p> + +<div class="blockquot"> +<p class="hang">“P.S. Lucoville has fallen in love with <em>poi</em>, an unpalatable +mess made from taro root. We shall have even +greater trouble with him and his diet once we return.”</p> +</div></div> + +<p class="in0">Haas laid down the letter with a frown. The mail<span class="pagenum" id="Page_169">169</span> +packet had sailed from Honolulu nine days earlier; certainly +there should have been a cable from Starkington +by this time. The trio had been in Hawaii nearly a +month; less than six weeks remained to complete the assignment. +He picked up the letter again, studying it +carefully.</p> + +<p>Constantine, eh? It rang some faint bell. There was +a large export and import firm with that name. They +had offices in New York, he knew; possibly they also had +offices in Honolulu. He sat in the quiet of the room, +the letter dangling from his fingers, while his tremendous +brain calculated all of the possibilities.</p> + +<p>In sudden resolve he arose. If there were no cable +within the next two days he would catch the first steamer +to the islands. And in the meantime he would prepare +himself, for there would be precious little time once he +arrived there. Folding the letter, he slipped it into his +pocket and left the room.</p> + +<p>His first stop was at the public library. A willing librarian +furnished him with a large map of the Hawaiian +Islands, and he spread it out upon a table and hunched +over it, studying the details of Oahu with care. The trail +had been to the west; his finger traced a spidery line that +ran along the coast from Honolulu through Nanakuli and +Waianae to a small finger of land marked Kaena Point. +He nodded. That had been the false trail; Starkington +would make no mistake on that score.</p> + +<p>The roads to the east were more complex. Some ran +over Nuuanu Pali pass and ended in the bush, or meandered +down to unnamed beaches. Another thin line +marked a road running up and back of Diamond Head, +and then coming to the coast at a curved spit marked +Mokapu Point. He pushed aside the map and leaned +back, thinking.</p> + +<p>He tried to put himself in Dragomiloff’s place. Why<span class="pagenum" id="Page_170">170</span> +remain on Oahu? Why not leave for one of the many +islands like Niihau or Kauai that spread out to the west; +some deserted, some so sparsely inhabited as to make discovery +virtually impossible in the little time left to the +Bureau? Why remain on the one island that offered the +greatest possibility for discovery?</p> + +<p>Only, of course, if discovery were desired. He sat up, +his brain racing. And why would discovery be desired? +Only for a trap! His eye flashed once again to the map +before him, but it told him nothing. He knew too little +of the terrain. He leaned back once more, employing +his giant intelligence.</p> + +<p>A trap to catch three people with certainty was difficult. +An accident? Too uncertain; one might always remain +alive. An ambush? Almost impossible against three +trained men such as Starkington, Hanover, and Lucoville. +If he were Dragomiloff, faced with the problem, in what +manner would he attempt to resolve it?</p> + +<p>Not on land. There was always cover available; the +conditions were never certain. For one man, yes; but +never three. If he were Dragomiloff he would set his +trap on the sea, where escape and cover were unavailable. +He bent over the large map once again, his heart beating +faster.</p> + +<p>The eastern coast wound about tenuously, marked by +little coves and scattered offshore islands. An island? +Possibly. But again there would be the problem of possible +cover, although escape would be more difficult. +No; it would be the sea. But how do you trap three men +on the barren sea? Three men of extraordinary intelligence, +each highly trained in assassination, and also in +self-protection?</p> + +<p>He sighed and folded the map. Further investigation +was necessary. He returned the chart to the librarian, +thanking her, and left the cool building. One additional<span class="pagenum" id="Page_171">171</span> +possibility occurred to him and he turned his steps in the +direction of the Court House.</p> + +<p>The clerk of land records nodded pleasantly.</p> + +<p>“Yes,” he said. “We do have copies of land transactions +in Hawaii. That is, if they are more than six +months old. It takes that long to have them registered +and filed here.” He peered at the thin, intense man +facing him. “What would the purchaser’s name be, +please?”</p> + +<p>“Constantine,” Haas replied. “S. Constantine & Co.”</p> + +<p>“The importers? If you will wait one moment....”</p> + +<p>Haas stared through the dusty window facing the Bay +and the constant passage of small and large ships in the +distance, but he saw none of this. In his mind’s eye he +saw a beach, and a boat—no, two boats—bobbing on +the ocean off the shore. In one boat Dragomiloff sat +quietly, while the other contained Starkington and the +others. They remained there, fixed upon his mind, while +he searched the scene for some indication of the trap, +some means to explain why Dragomiloff was luring them +there.</p> + +<p>The clerk returned.</p> + +<p>“Here we are, sir. S. Constantine & Co. purchased an +office block on King Street in 1906. Five years ago. +The details are all here, if you would care to examine +them.”</p> + +<p>Haas shook his head.</p> + +<p>“No. I am speaking about another land purchase. +More recent. On the eastern coast....” He hesitated, +and suddenly the picture became clear. Suddenly he was +sure. Dragomiloff had been planning this coup since +the very first day. He straightened, speaking more positively. +“The land was bought between ten and eleven +months ago.”</p> + +<p>The clerk disappeared into his files once again. This<span class="pagenum" id="Page_172">172</span> +time when he returned Haas could not repress a small +smile of triumph, for again the clerk was carrying a +folder.</p> + +<p>“I think this is what you are looking for, sir. But the +purchase was not effected by the company. It was made +in the name of Sergius Constantine, and comprises a small +island off the eastern coast of Oahu.”</p> + +<p>Haas read the details swiftly. His magnificent memory, +recalling the chart of the coastline with perfect clarity, +instantly located the small island. Thanking the +clerk, he left, his footsteps faster, his mind flying as he +reviewed the many possibilities.</p> + +<p>There could be no doubt that it was a trap, planned +for months, and now in the process of execution. The +victims had not been known; fate had selected them. He +must send a cable at once; Starkington would need to be +warned.</p> + +<p>He turned into his hotel, forming the words for the +telegram in his mind, picturing his code-book lying in his +suitcase hidden beneath his shirts. With his key he was +handed a small envelope. He slit it open as he walked +towards the stairway, and then stopped short. The message +was brief and conclusive:</p> + +<div class="blockquot"> + +<p>“Haas: Regret to inform you that Starkington, Hanover, and +Lucoville died as the result of an unfortunate boating accident. +Knew you would want to know. Hall.”</p> +</div> + +<p>For a moment he remained, his fingers grasping the +cable tightly as his mind encompassed the disaster. Too +late! No time now for warnings; little time for anything. +He must take the first boat. The first boat was—the +<i>Amberly</i>, sailing at dusk. He would need to go to their +offices to arrange passage; they were just a few blocks +away.</p> + +<p>He rushed to the door and into the street, jostling people +as he forced his way through the noon-day crowd.<span class="pagenum" id="Page_173">173</span> +Poor Starkington, he had always liked him so much! +Hanover, gentle and scholarly, always so excited at the +thought of wrong-doing in this naughty world! And +Lucoville; he would never again grouse over his food!</p> + +<p>The shipping offices were there across the street. +Without looking he sprang into the pavement, never noting +the huge brewery wagon bearing down upon him. +There was a scream from someone along the sidewalk; a +startled curse from the driver pulling madly and vainly +on the reins. The twin span of grays, frightened by the +apparition of the small figure before them, and frenzied +by the violent tug of the bit, lashed out wildly. Haas +fell beneath the flailing hooves, his last thoughts a recognition +of unbearable pain, and the wonder that he should +die so far from the palm-fringed beach and the end of +his quest.</p> + +<div class="tb">* * * * *</div> + +<p>By mutual consent it was agreed to pass the final days +of the fateful year upon the island. Here Dragomiloff, +Grunya, and Hall lived in simple fashion, doing their own +cooking, drawing their own water, finding their food in +the sea as the natives before them had done for years. +Surprisingly, they found it pleasant, a relaxing change +from the flurry of their lives upon the mainland. But +each knew it to be an escape from their problems, and +one which could last but a short time.</p> + +<p>To his own amazement, Hall found his liking for +Dragomiloff returning daily, despite the frightful recollection +of Starkington’s death. The memory was fading; it +slid further into the recesses of his mind until it appeared +as a remembered scene from a book long since read, or +a panel of a mural viewed in some obscure gallery long +forgotten.</p> + +<p>Dragomiloff never shirked his share of the chores, nor +did he attempt by reason of his position or his age to direct<span class="pagenum" id="Page_174">174</span> +or command. He was always ready with a helping +hand at the fishing and the cooking, and the evenness of +his temper often led Hall to wonder if the dreadful scene +of the whirlpool had actually existed. Yet daily, as the +calendar flew, the small man kept more and more to himself. +He sat at meals silent and increasingly thoughtful; +the tasks he selected were now those suitable to one person. +And daily he spent more and more time along the +beach, staring across the empty expanse of the sea towards +the mainland, as if waiting.</p> + +<p>It was in the late afternoon of the penultimate day that +he approached Hall, who was crouching in the surf sifting +the shallows for the succulent crabs that hid there. His +face was taut, although his voice remained even.</p> + +<p>“Hall, you are certain that you cabled to Haas?”</p> + +<p>Hall looked up, surprised.</p> + +<p>“Of course. Why do you ask?”</p> + +<p>“I cannot imagine why he has not come.”</p> + +<p>“Possibly some circumstance beyond his control.” +Hall stared at his companion. “You know, he is the last +of the Assassination Bureau.”</p> + +<p>Dragomiloff’s face was expressionless as he contemplated +the brown face of the crouching man.</p> + +<p>“Except for me, of course,” he stated quietly, and +turned in the direction of the hut.</p> + +<p>Hall’s eyes followed Dragomiloff’s figure for a moment +and then, with a shrug, he returned to his crabbing. +When the small wicker basket was sufficiently full to insure +a good evening meal he straightened up, rubbing +the cramped muscles of his back. We are all on edge, +but there is but one last day, he thought with satisfaction, +and then frowned. There was no doubt but that he +would miss the island.</p> + +<p>The sun was sinking into the green hills of the mainland +as he came back to the hut. He placed the basket<span class="pagenum" id="Page_175">175</span> +of squirming crabs in the small kitchen and padded +through into the living room. Grunya was bent in deep +conversation with her father; they both stopped short as +soon as he entered. It was evident they did not wish to +be disturbed. Feeling a bit hurt, Hall left the scene +abruptly and walked down to the beach. Secrets? he +thought a bit bitterly as he tramped the damp sand. Secrets +at this late stage?</p> + +<p>It was dark when he returned. Dragomiloff was in +his room, bent over his writing table, his lamp casting the +shadow of his profile sharply against the thatched wall. +Grunya was sitting by a small lamp weaving a small mat +from palm-fronds. Hall dropped into a chair opposite +her and watched the play of her strong hands silently for +a few moments. Her usual smile at sight of him was +missing.</p> + +<p>“Grunya.”</p> + +<p>She looked up inquiringly, her face set.</p> + +<p>“Yes, Winter?”</p> + +<p>“Grunya.” He kept his voice low. “We are at the +end of our days here. Soon we shall return to civilization.” +He hesitated, somewhat frightened by the solemnity +of her face. “Will you—still wish to marry me?”</p> + +<p>“Of course.” Her eyes dropped once again to the work +in her lap; her fingers picked up their chore. “I want +nothing more than to marry you.”</p> + +<p>“And your father?”</p> + +<p>She looked up, no muscle of her face moving. Not +for the first time Hall noted the sharp resemblance to the +blond man in the strong, fine lines of her face.</p> + +<p>“What about my father?”</p> + +<p>“What will he do? The Assassination Bureau will be +no more. It was a large part of his life.”</p> + +<p>“It was all of his life.” Then her eyes came up, unfathomable. +They slid over Hall’s shoulder and stopped.<span class="pagenum" id="Page_176">176</span> +Hall swung about. Dragomiloff had come into the room +and was standing quietly. Grunya’s eyes came back to +Hall. She attempted a smile.</p> + +<p>“Winter, we ... we need water. Would you...?”</p> + +<p>“Of course.”</p> + +<p>He rose, took the bucket, and walked in the direction +of the small spring at the northern end of the island. The +moon had risen, large and white, and lit his path with +dancing shadows from the stirring flowers along the way. +His heart was heavy; Grunya’s strange sternness—almost +coldness—weighed upon him. But then a lighter +thought came. Each of us, he thought, has been subject +to strain these past few days. Lord knows how I +must have appeared to her! Just a few more days and +they would find themselves aboard ship, and the captain +could marry them. Man and wife! He filled the bucket +and started back, whistling softly to himself.</p> + +<p>The water butt was in the kitchen. He up-ended the +bucket and poured; water overflowed, washing against his +bare feet. The butt had been full. In sudden fear he +threw the bucket down and dashed for the living room. +Grunya was still working silently, but her cheeks were +wet with tears. A sheaf of papers lay upon the table +before her, curled and heavy under the lamp.</p> + +<p>“Grunya, my dear! What....”</p> + +<p>She attempted to continue her work but the tears +streamed faster and faster until she flung the weaving +from her and fell into his waiting arms.</p> + +<p>“Oh, Winter...!”</p> + +<p>“What is it? What is it, my darling?” Sudden suspicion +came to him and he turned in the direction of +Dragomiloff’s room. The room was dark, but the moonlight, +streaming in at the open window, fell across the +empty bed. He sprang for the door, but Grunya clutched +his arm.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_177">177</span></p> + +<p>“No! You must not! Read this!”</p> + +<p>He paused irresolutely, but the pressure of her hand +upon his arm was demanding. Her eyes, raised to his, +were filled with tears, but they were filled, also, with determination. +Slowly he relaxed and reached for the +sheaf of papers. Grunya watched his face as he read, +her eyes roving from the broad forehead to the stern jaw, +noting the marks of the man who would be her only refuge +forever.</p> + +<div class="blockquot"> +<p> +“Dear Children: +</p> + +<p class="ti">“I can wait no longer. Haas has not come and my hours +are running out.</p> + +<p class="ti">“You must try and understand me and—as Hall would +call it—my madness. I speak now of the action I must take. +As head of the Assassination Bureau I accepted a commission; +this commission will be fulfilled. The Bureau has never failed +and it will not fail now. To do so would negate everything +it has ever stood for. I am sure that only death could have +prevented Haas from accomplishing his mission, but in our organization +the duty always passes to another. As the last +member, I must accept it.</p> + +<p class="ti">“But I do not accept it with sadness. The Bureau was my +life, and as it vanishes, so must Ivan Dragomiloff vanish. Nor +am I accepting it with shame; pride marks the step I shall +take this night. Possibly we were wrong—at one time you, +Hall, convinced me that we were. But we were never wrong +for the wrong reasons—even in our wrongness there was a +rightness.</p> + +<p class="ti">“That we killed, and that many times, we do not deny. +But the terrible thing in killing is not the quantity of victims, +but the quality. The death of one Socrates is a far greater +crime against humanity than the slaughter of endless hordes +of the savages that Genghis Khan led on the brutal rape of +Asia; but who truly believes it? The public—were they to +know—would scream imprecation down at our Bureau, even +as, with the same breath, they glorified to the heavens all +forms of thoughtless and needless slaying.</p> + +<p class="ti">“You doubt me? Walk through the parks of our great +cities, and our squares, and our plazas. What monuments<span class="pagenum" id="Page_178">178</span> +do you find to Aristotle? Or to Paine? Or Spinoza? No; +these spaces are reserved for the demigods, sword in hand, +who led us in all our slaughtering crusades since we raised +ourselves from the apes. The late war with Spain will doubtless +fill the few remaining spots, both here and in Spain, with +horsed heroes, arms raised in bloody salute, commemorating +in deathless bronze the victory of violence in the battle for +men’s minds.</p> + +<p class="ti">“Yet I allowed myself to be convinced that we were wrong. +Why? Because in essence we <em>were</em> wrong. The world must +come to recognize the joint responsibility for justice; it can +no longer remain the aim of a select—and self-selected—few. +Even now, the rumblings that come from Europe foreshadow +a greater catastrophe than mankind has yet endured, +but the salvation must come from a larger morality than even +we could offer. It must come from the growing moral fibre +of the world itself.</p> + +<p class="ti">“Yet, one doubt; one question. If that moral fibre be not +forthcoming? Then, in some distant age, the Assassination +Bureau may well be re-born. For of the deaths that can be +laid at our doors, the following may be said: No man died +who did not deserve it. No man died whose death did not +benefit mankind. It is doubtful if the same will be said of +those whose statues rise from the squares after the next ‘final’ +war is fought.</p> + +<p class="ti">“But time runs out. I ask you, Hall, to guard Grunya. +She is the life I bequeath to this earth, the proof that no man, +right or wrong, can pass without leaving his mark.</p> + +<p class="ti">“One last kiss to my Grunya. One final handclasp to you, +my friend.</p> + +<p class="right"> +“D.” +</p> +</div> + +<p>Hall lifted his eyes from the papers between his fingers; +they sought the beautiful face of his loved one.</p> + +<p>“You did not attempt to stop him?”</p> + +<p>“No.” Her gaze was steady and brave. “All my life +he has done everything for me. My slightest wish was +granted.” Her eyes misted; her mouth quivered with an +effort for control. “I love him so much! I had no other +means of repaying him.”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_179">179</span></p> + +<p>Hall gathered her in his arms, wonder at her great +strength flooding him. Suddenly the strain was too +much; she burst into violent tears, clutching his arms with +all her force.</p> + +<p>“Oh, Winter, was I wrong? Was I wrong? Should +I have begged him for his life?”</p> + +<p>He held her tightly, soothingly. Through the open +doorway his eyes sought the smooth sea reflected brightly +in the brilliant moonlight. A shadow crossed his vision, +a slight figure in the distance, bent easily over a paddle, +moving quietly to the center of the channel to await the +<em>Huhu Kai</em>. He did not know whether he saw it or imagined +it, but suddenly one arm seemed to rise from the +dwindling canoe in a happy salute.</p> + +<p>“No,” he said fiercely, holding her tighter. “No, my +darling. You were not wrong.”</p> + +<p class="p2 center wspace smaller">THE END</p> + +<p class="p4 in0">[<em>Jack London stops and Mr. Fish begins on page 122</em>]</p> +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> + +<div class="chapter"> +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_181">181</span></p> + +<h2 class="nobreak" id="JACK_LONDONS_NOTES_FOR">JACK LONDON’S NOTES FOR +THE COMPLETION OF THE BOOK</h2> +</div> + +<p>You “sped the blow” before the truce up. Drago finds +this out.</p> + +<p>Alarm of Breen when he sees the point. “But I can’t +stop it. Any attempt to stop it will immediately explode +it.”</p> + +<p>Drago: “I’ll help you out,” Breen grateful.</p> + +<p>They prove to Breen that he set it in the truce.</p> + +<p>“You’re right. I almost was guilty of wrong. Disconnect +it—I can’t. That was the device I mentioned. The +beauty of this machine is that it is like a decree of the +Bureau. Once set, as it is set, no power on earth can +stop it. Automatic locking device. A blacksmith could +not now remove the clockwork.”</p> + +<p>Take it down and throw it in the Bay.</p> + +<p>“Friends, lunatics—will you permit this?”</p> + +<p>“They can’t stop it,” Hanover chuckled. “The irrefragable +logic of the elements! The irrefragable logic of +the elements!”</p> + +<p>“Are you going to stay here and be blown up?” Hall +demanded angrily.</p> + +<p>“Certainly not. But, as Breen says, there is plenty of +time. Ten minutes will remove the slowest of us outside +the area of destruction. In the meantime consider +the marvel of it!”</p> + +<p>Hall considers other people.</p> + +<p>Breen: “I broke down in my reasoning. That shows +fallibility of human reason. But, Hanover, you see no +breakdown in the reasoning of the elements. Can’t +break.”</p> + +<p>So absorbed, all forgot the flight of time, Drago stood +up, and put an affectionate hand on Lucoville’s shoulder—near +to the neck.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_182">182</span></p> + +<p>Speaks pleasantly.—swift—spasmodic—hand.</p> + +<p>Death-touch of Japanese. Caught hat and coat. Slips +out—Haas springing like a tiger, collided with servant—crash +of dishes.</p> + +<p>“Dear friend Lucoville,” says Hanover, peering through +spectacles. “You will never reply.”</p> + +<p>The Chief truly had the last word.</p> + +<div class="tb">* * * * *</div> + +<p>Next day’s papers—<i>San Francisco Examiner</i>—mysterious +explosion in Bay—dead fish. No clue.</p> + +<p>Drago’s message: “Going to Los Angeles. Shall remain +some time. Come and get me.”</p> + +<p>At dinner when Drago had exalted adventure path—they +accused him of being a sentimentalist, an Epicurean +(sneered).</p> + +<div class="tb">* * * * *</div> + +<p>“Gentlemen!” Hall cried desperately, “I appeal to you +as mathematicians. Ethics can be reduced to science. +Why give all your lives for his?</p> + +<p>“Gentlemen, fellow madmen—reflect. Cast this situation +in terms of an equation. It is unscientific, irrational. +More, it is unmoral. As high ethicists it would +be a wanton act, etc.”</p> + +<p>They debate. They give in.</p> + +<p>Drago: “Wisely done. And now, a truce. I believe +we are the only group in the United States or the world +who so trust.” Pulls out watch. “It is 9:30. Let us +go and have dinner. 2 hours truce. After that, if nothing +is determined or deranged, let the status quo continue.”</p> + +<div class="tb">* * * * *</div> + +<p>Hall loses Grunya, who saves Drago, and escapes with +him. Then Hall, telegrams, traces them through Mexico, +West Indies, Panama, Ecuador—cables big (5 times) +sum to Drago, and starts in pursuit.</p> + +<p>Arrives; finds them gone. Encounters Haas, and follows<span class="pagenum" id="Page_183">183</span> +him. Sail on same windjammer for Australia. +There loses Haas.</p> + +<p>Himself, cabling, locates them as headed for Tahiti.</p> + +<p>Meets them in Tahiti. Marries Grunya. Appearance +of Haas.</p> + +<p>The three, Drago, Grunya and Hall (married) live in +Tahiti until assassins arrive. Then Drago sneaks in +cutter for Taiohae.</p> + +<p>Drago assures others of his sanity; they’re not even +insane. They’re stupid. They cannot understand the +transvaluation of values he has achieved.</p> + +<p>On a sandy islet, Dragomiloff manages to blow up the +whole group except Haas who is too avidly clever. +House mined.</p> + +<p>Drago, in Nuka Island, village Taiohae, Marquesas. +There is a wrecked cutter and assassin (Haas) is thrown +up on beach where Melville escaped nearly a century +earlier. While Drago is off exploring Typee Valley on +this island, Hall and Grunya play off the assassin Haas, +and think are rid of him.</p> + +<p>Drago dies triumphantly: Weak, helpless, on Marquesas +island, by accident of wreck is discovered by appointed +slayer—Haas. Only by accident, however. +“In truth I have outwitted organization.” Slayer and he +discuss way he is to die. Drago has a slow, painless +poison. Agrees to take. Takes. Will be an hour in +dying.</p> + +<p>Drago: “Now, let us discuss the wrongness of the organization +which must be disbanded.”</p> + +<p>Grunya and Hall arrive. Schooner lying on and off. +They come ashore in whaleboat, in time for his end.</p> + +<p>After all dead but Haas, Hall cleaned up the affairs of +the Bureau. $117,000 was turned over to him. Stored +books and furniture of Drago. Sent mute to be caretaker +of the bungalow at Edge Moor.</p> +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> + +<div class="chapter"> +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_184">184</span></p> + +<h2 class="nobreak" id="ENDING_AS_OUTLINED_BY_CHARMIAN_LONDON">ENDING AS OUTLINED BY CHARMIAN LONDON</h2> +</div> + +<p>The small yacht sailing, spinnaker winged out, day and +night, for many days and nights. The saturnalia of destruction—splendid +description of the bonita—by the +hundreds of thousands. The great hunting. The miles +wide swatch of destruction. The gunies, bosuns, frigate +birds, etc., increasing—tens of thousands. All after +flying fish. When flying fish come aboard, they, too, +rush to catch them. Saturnalia of killing gets on their +nerves. Birds break wings against rigging, fall overboard, +torn to pieces by bonita and attacked from above +by their fluttering kind—frigate birds, bosuns, etc. Native +sailors catch bonita to eat raw—as haul in, caught-bonita +are attacked by their fellows. Sailors catch a +shark—cut it clean open, none of its parts left. Beating +heart in a man’s hand—shark heaved overboard, +swims and swims, snapping with jaws as the bonita hosts +flit by in the sun-flooded brine—beating heart shock to +Grunya. Finally the madness of the tropic sun, etc. +Here begin to shoot birds, fish, etc., with small automatic +rifle, and she looks up and applauds. All killed or injured +are immediately eaten by others. Once the Irish +terrier goes overboard and is torn to pieces by bonita. +Once, her scarf, red, struck and dragged down, etc., etc. +Nothing can escape.</p> + +<p>And so the end, tragic foredoomed, as they go ashore, +sharks snap at their oar blades. And on the beach, a +school of small fish, discovered, rush upon the beach. +They wade ashore through this silvery surf of perished +life, and find—Dragomiloff dying.</p> + +<div class="chapter transnote"> +<h2 class="nobreak" id="Transcribers_Notes">Transcriber’s Notes</h2> + +<p>Punctuation, hyphenation, and spelling were made +consistent when a predominant preference was found +in the original book; otherwise they were not changed.</p> + +<p>Simple typographical errors were corrected; unbalanced +quotation marks were remedied when the change was +obvious, and otherwise left unbalanced.</p> + +<p>According to the note at the end of the story (<a href="#Page_179">page 179</a>), +the transition of authors from Jack London to Robert Fish occurs on +<a href="#Page_122">page 122</a>. The first full paragraph on that page reads: +“Do something!” Grunya entreated Hall. “You must do something.”</p> + +<p><a href="#Page_33">Page 33</a>: “you ever fail” was printed as “you every fail”. Changed here.</p> +<div> </div> +</div> + +<div style='text-align:center'>*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 75562 ***</div> +</body> +</html> + |