en they were
assembled, "to consider a matter which touches us all--how deeply, God
alone knows. At ten o'clock to-night I received this message." He
opened the paper which he held in his hand and read:

"'Property of Hitt oil company, including derricks, pump houses,
storage tanks, destroyed by fire. Dynamite in pump houses
exploded, causing wells to cave and choke. Loss complete. Wire
instructions.'"

The news burst over them like the cracking of a bomb. Haynerd, who,
like the others, had been kept in ignorance of the message until now,
started from his chair with a loud exclamation, then sank back limp.
Carmen's face went white. Evil seemed to have chosen that day with
canny shrewdness to overwhelm her with its quick sallies from out the
darkness of the carnal mind.

Hitt broke the tense silence. "I see in this," he said slowly, "the
culmination of a long series of efforts to ruin the Express. That my
oil property was deliberately wrecked, I have not the slightest doubt.
Nor can I doubt by whose hand."

"Whose?" demanded Haynerd, having again found his voice. "Ames's?"

Hitt replied indirectly. "The Express has stood before the world as a
paper unique and apart. And because of its high ideals, the forces of
evil singled it out at the beginning for their murderous assaults.
That the press of this country is very generally muzzled, stifled,
bought and paid for, I have good reason now to know. My constant
brushes with the liquor interests, with low politicians, judges,
senators, and dive-keepers, have not been revealed even to you. Could
you know the pressure which the Church, both Catholic and Protestant,
has tried to exert upon us, you would scarce credit me with veracity.
But the Express has stood out firm against feudalism, mediaevalism,
and entrenched ecclesiasticism. It has fearlessly opposed the
legalizing of drugging. It has fought the debauching of a nation's
manhood by the legalized sale of a deadly poison, alcohol. And it has
fought without quarter the pernicious activity of morally stunted
brewers and distillers, whose hellish motto is, 'Make the boys drink!'
It has fought the money octopus, and again and again has sounded to
the world the peril which money-drunken criminals like Ames and his
clique constitute. And for that we must now wear the crown of
martyrdom!"

Silence, dismal and empty, lay over the little room for a long time.
Then Hitt resumed. "The Express has not been self-supportin