o his
face. "Wendell, eh? After all this time. Poor chap; he'd have been
better off if he'd died twenty years ago." Then he paused and looked up.
"But just who are you, Mr. Camberton? And what makes you think I would
be particularly interested in Paul Wendell?"

"Mr. Wendell wants to tell you that he is very grateful to you for
having saved his life, Senator. If it hadn't been for your orders, he
would have been left to die."

The Senator felt strangely calm, although he knew he should feel shock.
"That's ridiculous, sir! Mr. Wendell's brain was hopelessly damaged; he
never recovered his sanity or control of his body. I know; I used to
drop over to see him occasionally, until I finally realized that I was
only making myself feel worse and doing him no good."

[Illustration]

"Yes, sir. And Mr. Wendell wants you to know how much he appreciated
those visits."

* * * * *

The Senator grew red. "What the devil are you talking about? I just said
that Wendell couldn't talk. How could he have said anything to you? What
do you know about this?"

"I never said he _spoke_ to me, Senator; he didn't. And as to what I
know of this affair, evidently you don't remember my name. James
Camberton."

The Senator frowned. "The name is familiar, but--" Then his eyes went
wide. "Camberton! You were one of the eight men who--Why, _you're the
man who shot Wendell_!"

Camberton pulled up an empty lawnchair and sat down. "That's right,
Senator; but there's nothing to be afraid of. Would you like to hear
about it?"

"I suppose I must." The old man's voice was so low that it was scarcely
audible. "Tell me--were the other seven released, too? Have--have you
all regained your sanity? Do you remember--" He stopped.

"Do we remember the extra-sensory perception formula? Yes, we do; all
eight of us remember it well. It was based on faulty premises, and
incomplete, of course; but in its own way it was workable enough. We
have something much better now."

The old man shook his head slowly. "I failed, then. Such an idea is as
fatal to society as we know it as a virus plague. I tried to keep you
men quarantined, but I failed. After all those years of insanity, now
the chess game begins; the poker game is over."

"It's worse than that," Camberton said, chuckling softly. "Or, actually,
it's much better."

"I don't understand; explain it to me. I'm an old man, and I may not
live to see my world collapse. I ho