f his
imagination served him unfailingly. Oh yes. Necessity was driving. But
so, too, was his own personal feelings. He saw in the position that this
man had revealed an advantage to himself he had never looked for. With
the necessary money forthcoming, and no directors to concern himself
with, literally a free hand, he could employ a power which, in these
days of unrest and hatred between capital and labour, would be well-nigh
overwhelming. The morality of it, the ultimate consequence of it
mattered nothing. The smashing of Sachigo would mean the smashing of
Bull Sternford. And he saw a way whereby the smashing of Bull Sternford
could be achieved through--

His mind focused itself, as it was bound to do, upon this thing as it
affected his own desires. He, too, was a passionate hater, for all
Hellbeam's denial. His thought leapt at once to Nancy McDonald and the
man who had thrust himself between him and his desires. Whatever insane
hatred lay behind Hellbeam's purpose, it was not one whit more insensate
than Elas Peterman's feelings against the man who had come down from
Sachigo at Nancy's bidding.

Suddenly he looked up and glanced at the man occupying the chair that
was his. Hellbeam was still gazing at the window, pre-occupied with his
own thoughts.

"You can leave this thing in my hands, sir," he said. "Our organisation
has been working steadily to undermine the Sachigo people for months
past. That has always been part of our policy. I'd say the whole
thing's going to fit very well. You say, if necessary, you'll find half
a million dollars for the business. We shan't need a tithe of that.
However, it's well to know it. And none of it needs to worry our
directors. I'll set about it right away--in my own fashion--and I'll
promise you a quick result. We'll smash these folk all right. But how
it's to hand you the man you need I'm not wise--"

"No." Hellbeam's eyes were certainly derisive as they turned back from
the window. "This man, Martin, will show himself when he sees
the--destruction. My people will do the rest."

"Unless he leaves it--to Sternford. They tell us this man would as soon
fight as laugh. That's how Miss McDonald said the missionary, Father
Adam, told her."

"Father Adam?" The derision in the financier's eyes had deepened.
"That's the man that other fool talks of."

Peterman shrugged. The sting in the financier's words stirred him to
resentment.

"I don't know about that. Anyway--"

"How