homicidal maniac. More'n likely he's been a quiet, steady drinker
for years, and now it's begun to show on him."

But nothing was further from Cleggett than the wish ever to go
into the Enterprise office again. As he left the elevator on the
ground floor he stabbed the astonished elevator boy under the
left arm with his cane as a bayonet, cut him harmlessly over the
head with his cane as a saber, tossed him a dollar, and left the
building humming:

"Oh, the Beau Sabreur of the Grande Armee
Was the Captain Tarjeanterre!"

It is thus, with a single twitch of her playful fingers, that
Fate will sometimes pluck from a man the mask that has obscured
his real identity for many years. It is thus that Destiny will
suddenly draw a bright blade from a rusty scabbard!


CHAPTER II

THE ROOM OF ILLUSION

That part of Brooklyn in which Cleggett lived overlooks a wide
sweep of water where the East River merges with New York Bay.
From his windows he could gaze out upon the bustling harbor craft
and see the ships going forth to the great mysterious sea.

He walked home across the Brooklyn Bridge, and as he walked he
still hummed tunes. Occasionally, still with the rapt and fatal