he asked scornfully. "Now, where I
am deputy no man would dare to think of a weapon to be used against
me! If it is The Master's rule, though...."

The policeman cringed. Bell scornfully thrust an automatic out.

"Take it," he snapped. "And go and tell The Master that the Senores
Bell and Jamison await his pleasure, and that they have given up
their weapons."

The policeman scuttled toward the house. Bell smiled at his cigarette.

"Do you know, Bell," said Jamison dryly, in English, "I'd hate to play
poker with you."

"I'm not bluffing," said Bell. "Not altogether. I've a four card
flush, with the draw to come."

* * * * *

Almost instantly the policeman returned, more abject still. He had
stammered out Bell's message, just as it was given him. And the slaves
of The Master did not usually disobey orders, especially orders
designed to prevent any danger of a doomed man or woman trying to
assassinate The Master before madness was complete. Bell and Jamison
were received by liveried servants in utter silence and conducted
through a long passageway, too long to have been contained entirely in
the house as seen from the front. Indeed, they came out into a great
open greenhouse, in which the smell of flowers was heavy. There were
flowers everywhere, and a benign, small old man with a snowy beard and
hair, sat at a desk as if chatting of amiable trivialities with the
frock-coated men who stood about him. The white haired old man lifted
a blossom delicately to his nostrils and inhaled its perfume with a
sensitive delight. He looked up and smiled benignly upon the two.

It was then that Jamison got a shock surpassing all the rest. Bell's
hands were writhing at the ends of his wrists, writhing as if they
were utterly beyond his control and as if they were longing to rend
and tear....

And Bell suddenly looked down at them, and his expression was that of
a man who sees cobras at the ends of his arms.

CHAPTER XVII

There was a long pause. Bell was very calm. He seemed to tear his eyes
from the writhing hands that were peculiarly sensate, as if under the
control of in intelligence alien to his own.

"I believe," said Bell steadily, "that The Master wishes to speak to
me."

With an apparent tremendous effort of will, he thrust his hands into
his pockets. Jamison cursed softly. Bell had taken the direction of
things entirely out of his hands. It only remained to play up.

"To be sur