"They call me Samuel, in this organization," the man in the long black
coat said. "Whoever gave me that alias must have chosen it because I am
here in an effort to live up to it. Although I am ordained by no church,
I fight for all of them. The plain fact is that this man we call The
Guide is really the Antichrist!"

"Well, I haven't quite so lofty a motive, but it's good enough to make
me willing to finance this project," Walter said. "It's very simple. The
Guide won't let people make money, and if they do, he taxes it away from
them. And he has laws to prohibit inheritance; what little you can
accumulate, you can't pass on to your children."

"I put up a lot of the money, too, don't forget," Carl told him. "Or the
Union did; I'm a poor man, myself." He was smoking an excellent cigar,
for a poor man, and his clothes could have come from the same tailor as
Walter's. "Look, we got a real Union--the Union of all unions. Every
working man in North America, Europe, Australia and South Africa belongs
to it. And The Guide has us all hog-tied."

"He won't let you strike," Benson chuckled.

"That's right. And what can we do? Why, we can't even make our
closed-shop contracts stick. And as far as getting anything like a
pay-raise...."

"Good thing. Another pay-raise in some of my companies would bankrupt
them, the way The Guide has us under his thumb...." Walter began, but he
was cut off.

"Well! It seems as though this Guide has done some good, if he's made