s
something fascinating in the very nonchalance of it.

Storch's eyes glittered more and more savagely. He drew up plans,
arranged incredible details, delivered specific offenders into the
hands of certain of his henchmen.

"You are responsible for this man, now," he used to fling at the
chosen one. "How or where or when does not interest me--but get him,
you understand, _get him_!"

One night a member said, significantly:

"Everybody's been picked but Hilmer... What's the matter, Storch, are
you saving that plum for yourself?"

Storch rubbed his hands together, flashing a look at Fred.

"No... There's an option on Hilmer!" he cried, gleefully.

Fred tried to ignore the implication, but all night the suggestion
burned itself into his brain. So some one was to get Hilmer, after
all! Well, why not? Hilmer liked men with guts enough to fight--rabbit
drives were not to his taste... Among all the names brought up and
discussed at these sinister gatherings about Storch's round table
Hilmer's stood out as the ultimate prize. No one spoke a good word for
him and yet Fred had to admit that the revilings were flavored with a
certain grudging respect. He was an open and consistent tyrant, at any
rate.

An option on Hilmer! What a trick Storch had for illuminating phrases!
... And his divinations were uncanny. Why should he assume that Hilmer
was in any way bound up in Fred Starratt's life?

The next morning Fred decided to chance a walk in the open. He had a
vague wish to try his wings again, now that he had grown stronger. The
situation reminded him remotely of Fairview on those first days when
Monet and he had attempted to harden their muscles against the day of
escape. But this time he was struggling to free himself from a
personality, from an idea. He must leave Storch and his motley brood
as soon as possible; somehow the acid of their ruthless philosophy was
eating away the remnants of any inner beauty which had been left him.
At first he had been all revolt, but now there were swift moments in
which he asked himself what quarrel he could have with any blows
struck at authority. What had established order done for him? Acted as
a screen for villainy and inconstancy for the most part.

He turned all this over in his mind as he slunk furtively along the
water front, trying vaguely to shape a plan of action. He felt himself
to be a very unusual and almost terrible figure, and yet no one paid
any heed to him. His bea