ugh the sky, the terrific explosion at the
Capitol. It was Paul--my friend, Paul Stravoinski--who was imposing
his will upon the world.

I said nothing as I took off; the swiftest plane was at my command. I
might be wrong; I must not arouse false hopes; but I must find Paul.
And the papers were black with scareheads of another threat as I left
Washington:

"You have twenty-four hours to surrender. There shall be one last day
of grace." Signed: "Paul."

There was more of the wild talk of the beauties of this new
dispensation--a mixture of idealistic folly and of threats of
destruction. I needed no more to prove the truth of my suspicions. No
one but the Paul I had known could cling so tenaciously to his dreams;
no one but he could be so blind to the actual horror of the new
oligarchy he would impose upon the world.

I flew alone; no one but myself must try to hunt him out. I paid no
attention to the radio direction of the last message; he would fly far
afield to send it; distance meant nothing to one who held his power. I
must look for him at his laboratory, that cluster of deserted
buildings that stood all alone by a distant railway siding; it was
there he had worked.

* * * * *

He met me with a pistol in his hand--a tiny gun that fired only a .22
calibre bullet.

"Put down your pop-gun," I told him and brushed through the open door
into the room that had been his laboratory. "I am unarmed, and I'm
here to talk business.

"You are 'Paul'!" I shot the sentence at him as if it were a bullet
that must strike him down.

He did not answer directly; just nodded in confirmation of some
unspoken thought.

"You have found me," he said slowly; "you were the only one I feared."

Then he came out with it, and his eyes blazed with a maniacal light.

"Yes, I am Paul! and this 'pop-gun' in my hand is the weapon that
destroyed your Capitol at Washington. The bullet contained less than a
grain of tritonite; that is the name I have given my explosive."

He aimed the little pistol toward me where I stood. "These bullets are
more lightly charged--they are to protect myself--and the one
ten-thousandth of a milligram in the end of each will blow you into
bits! Sit down. I will not be checked now. You will never leave this
place alive!"

"Less than a grain of tritonite!"--and I had seen a great building go
down to dust at its touch! I sat down in the chair where he directed,
and I turned awa