yet you senators talk of reform!--of a 'new' world!--of a higher
code of conduct between man and man--"

"Yes, we talk"--interrupted Gwent--"But we don't mean what we say!--
we should never think of meaning it!"

"'Scribes and Pharisees, hypocrites!'" quoted Seaton with passionate
emphasis.

"Just so! The Lord Christ said it two thousand years ago, and it's
true to-day! We haven't improved!"

With an impatient movement, Seaton strode to the door of his hut and
looked out at the wide sky,--then turned back again. Gwent watched
him critically.

"After all," he said, "It isn't as if you wanted anything of
anybody. Money is no object of yours. If it were I should advise
your selling your discovery to Morgana Royal,--she'd buy it--and, I
tell you what!--SHE'D USE IT!"

"Thanks!" and Seaton nodded curtly--"I can use it myself!"

"True!" And Gwent looked interestedly at his dwindling Havana--"You
can!" There followed a pause during which Gwent thought of the
strange predicament in which the world might find itself, under the
scientific rule of one man who had it in his power to create a
terrific catastrophe without even "showing his hand." "Anyway,
Seaton, you surely want to make something out of life for yourself,
don't you?"