Evening star., 1923-11-08

Ill served, almost in a sense mocked;
but that phase of 1t had sunk into
insignifioance. This whole Idea was
life. The whole fabric was of tex
ture most precarious. 1t exhilarated
him. Excitement, adventure, yes,
even peril beckoned alluringly and
always from around the corner Just
ahead. He stood against the police:
ne stood very excellent chance of
being discovered some morning minus
his life If the men he was set to
watch, and who now fawned upon
an unholy admiration, should get an
mixing of his real identity and his
real purpose at their houses!
He yawned, and, as though glory
ing in his own strength, fexed his
great shoulders, and stretched his
arms to their full length above his
head.
Well, it was life. 1t made him a
superman. He had no human ties to
Dind him; no restraint to know; no
sIlre desire that could not be satiated.
The past was wiped away. 1t was
like some reincarnation in which he
stood supreme above his fellow men,
and they bowed to their god. And
he was their god. And If he but
nodded approval they would lie, and
cheat, and steal, and commit murder
In their greed Of worship, they whose
souls were In pawn to their god.
He turned suddenly from the win
dow, switched on the lights, drew
from his pocket great sum of
at it. There were thousands in his
hand. Thousands and thousands!
Money! The one universally ortho-
dox godl With but one OF these pieces
OF paper in his hand he could command
passions at his whim. and like pup
pets sets on stage Of his own setting
move the followers of the Great
Greed, that were numbered in their
millions. at his Will! 1t was only
levers, that he held no sway. But
he could afford to ignore the minor
ity! Was he not indeed god?
And 1t had cost him nothing. Only
the pawning OF his soul; and, like
afar off. Only the signing of a bond
that postulated a denial Of what lie
had already beforehand held in light
esteem-a code of canting morals.
of the way! Life stretched the fuller.
the roster, the more ed-blooded be-
fore him on that account. He was
we'll content. The future lured him.
Nor was it money alone. There was
the spice OF adventure, the battle of
wits. hardly inaugurated yet. be-
tween himself and those whose un-
derground methods We're the raison
d'etre of his own magically enhanced
circumstances.
John Bruce replaced the money in
his pocket abruptly and frowned.
That was something. from. still an
other standpoint. which he could not
afford to lose sight of. He had to
Justify his job. Gilbert Larmon had
stated that: ne was not a philanthro-
pist. and it was written in the bond
that Larmon could terminate the
agreement at will. Yes, and that
was queer, too! What kind of a
man was Larmon? He knew Lar
mon. as Larmon superficially sub
jected himself to inspection and spec
ulation; but he was fully aware that
he did not know Larmon the man.
There seemed something almost
sinister in its Inconsistency that
Larmon should at one and the same
time reserve the right to terminate
that bond at will while his very
signature upon ii furnished a weapon
which, if he, John Bruce, chose to
use 1t. placed the otffer at his mercy.
What kind of a man was Larmon?
No fool, no weakling-that was GER
tain. And yet at word he, John
Bruce, could tear the other from the
pseudo righteous pedestal upon which
he posed, strip the other naked of
the garments that clothed his Grim
inal activities and destroy utterly
the carefully reared structure of re-
spectability that Larmon had built
true that he, John Bruce, would
never use such a weapon. even under
but Larmon could not be
sure of that. How then did Larmon
reconcile his reservation to terminate
the contract at will and yet furnish