y to humiliate
me--"

"Not for that," said Bell. He laughed again. "But all the time I've
been hearing about the stuff, I've noticed that nobody thought of it
as a drug. It was a poison. People were poisoned. They did not become
addicts. But you--you are the only addict to your drug."

He turned to Jamison, his eyes gleaming.

"Jamison," he said softly, "did you ever know of a drug addict who
could bear to think of ever being without a supply of his drug--_right
on his person_?"

Jamison literally jumped.

"By God! No!"

The Master was quick. He was swarming up the plane-wing tip before
Jamison reached him, and he kicked frenziedly when Jamison plucked him
off. But then it was wholly, entirely, utterly horrible that the
little white haired man, whose face and manner had seemed so cherubic
and so bland, should shriek in so complete a blind panic as they
forced his fingers open and took a fountain pen away from him.

"This is it," said Bell in a deep satisfaction. "This is his point of
weakness."

* * * * *

The Master was ghastly to look at, now. Jamison held him gently
enough, considering everything, but The Master looked at that fountain
pen as one might look at Paradise.

"I--I swear," he gasped. "I--swear I will give you the formula!"

"You might lie," said Jamison grimly.

"I swear it!" panted The Master in agony. "It--If the formula is known
it--can be duplicated! It--the excretion can be hastened! It can all
be forced from the body! Simply! So simply! If only you know! I will
tell you how it is done! The medicine is the cacodylate of--"

Bell was leaning forward, now, like a runner breasting the tape at the
end of a long and exhausting race.

"I'll trade," he said softly. "Half the contents of the pen for the
formula. The other half we'll need for analysis. Half the stuff in the
pen for the formula for freeing your slaves!"

The Master sobbed.

"A--a pencil!" he gasped. "I swear--"

Jamison gave him a pencil and a notebook. He wrote, his hinds shaking.
Jamison read inscrutably.

"It doesn't mean anything to me," he said soberly, "but you can read
it. It's legible."

Bell smiled faintly. With steady finger he took his own fountain pen
from his pocket. He emptied it of ink, and put a scrupulous half of a
milky liquid from The Master's pen into it. He passed it over.

"Your medicine," said Bell quietly, "may taste somewhat of ink, but it
will not be poisonous