of the
table. "The world is as it is, and you can't remodel it."

"There is where you make the mistake common to those who cry Peace, when
there is no peace," was the quick retort. "I, and my kind, can remodel
it, and some day, when the burden has grown too heavy to be borne, we
will. The aristocracy of rank, birth, feudal tyranny went down in fire
and blood in France a century ago: the aristocracy of money will go down
here, when the time is ripe."

"That is good anarchy, but mighty bad ethics. I didn't know you had
reached that stage of the disease, Kenneth."

"Call it what you please; names don't change facts. Listen"--Griswold
leaned upon the table; his eyes grew hard and the blue in them became
metallic--"For more than a month I have tramped the streets of this
cursed city begging--yes, that is the word--begging for work of any kind
that would suffice to keep body and soul together; and for more than
half of that time I have lived on one meal a day. That is what we have
come to; we of the submerged majority. And that isn't all. The
wage-worker himself, when he is fortunate enough to find a chance to
earn his crust, is but a serf; a chattel among the other possessions of
some fellow man who has acquired him in the plutocratic redistribution
of the earth and the fulness thereof."

Bainbridge applauded in dumb show.

"Turn it loose and ease the soul-sickness, old man," he said
indulgently. "I know things haven't been coming your way, lately. What
is your remedy?"

Griswold was fairly started now, and ridicule was as fuel to the flame.

"The money-gatherers have set us the example. They have made us
understand that might is right; that he who has may hold--if he can. The
answer is simple: there is enough and to spare for all, and it belongs
to all; to him who sows the seed and waters it, as well as to him who
reaps the harvest. That is a violent remedy, you will say. So be it: it
is the only one that will cure the epidemic of greed. There is an
alternative, but it is only theoretical."

"And that?"

"It may be summed up in seven words: 'Thou shalt love thy neighbor as
thyself.' When the man who employs--and rules--uses the power that money
gives him to succor his fellow man, the revolution will be indefinitely
postponed. But as I say, it's only a theory."

Bainbridge glanced at his watch.

"I must be going," he said. "The _Adelantado_ drops down the river at
eleven. But in passing I'll venture a little p