THE OPPORTUNISTS 

By E. A. GROSSER 

Illustrated by F. Kramer 

Published in Astounding Science-Fiction, January 1941

It was a magnificent, uplifting ideal when it started. The power to remake a world gone wrong. But somehow—the wrongness crept into the ideal and out of the world— 

DAN scuttled into the brush and crouched silently in the semidarkness. If he were seen, he carried his own death sentence under his arm. At the thought he clutched the book tighter. 

The shabby volume was the one remaining treasure of the village, and their one hope that some day they might throw off the yoke of the Masters. No one in the village could understand the things the Elders called "words.” But its possession gave them hope.

And now, someone must have told the Masters. Since the moment the field workers had spied the strange rolling house of the Masters— "autos,” the Elders called them the village had been like a disturbed ant hill. The one thought paramount in the minds of the villagers had been to save the book. The Elders had given the book to Dan and told him to hide. In every village there were a few whose births had purposefully not been recorded. Unaccountables, they were called. And · Dan was an Unaccountable. 

He listened intently. A nervous perspiration dampened his unyouthfully hardened body. His white skin had been sun and wind tanned to a deep bronze, but now he was al most pale. He heard a metallic bang, and knew that the Masters had got out of their auto and closed 

the door. Now the village folk would be lining up for the roll call. Dan looked more like an animal than a man, crouching in the brush, until he smiled. He was suddenly very glad that he was an Unaccountable. 

Sometime later he heard another metallic bang, and he breathed more freely. The Masters had given up. Probably they thought the report had been made by a jealous trouble maker. 

Dan crawled out of the brush and stood up. He was happy, walking to the village. Once again the Masters had been thwarted, even though they didn't know it.

He strode around the corner of a rude cabin and halted frozenly. The villagers were still lined up in the square. The Masters were still calling the roll. There were two autos, instead of one. 

One of the Masters was reading the names from a great book; two others were near him, one on his left and one on his right, with their hands on their terrible "guns” that killed with a loud noise; and a fourth Master sat in the turret that rose like a bubble over the top of the auto, and his hands were on the even more terrible “stuttering gun.” 

Dan wanted to turn and run, but he knew that he didn't have a chance. The eyes of the Masters were on 

him. He straightened under their gaze, determined that if he had to die they wouldn't get any satisfaction out of his dying. Finally the Master with the great book asked: 

“Are you Rolf? Is that the book?” Strangely, his voice wasn't threatening. It was cold, unemotional, but it was not the voice of a Master who speaks to a wrong doer. 

From the corner of his eye Dan saw Rolf start to speak, and he also saw the man next to Rolf press his knife to Rolf's back. With the few words from the Master they all knew the name of the traitor. But it would do no good. Dan knew that death was all he could expect. Even if he could explain his possession of a book, and it had never been done yet, there was still the fact that he was an Unaccountable. 

THE MASTER frowned. “Answer!" he commanded sharply. 

Dan started to say, No, when his father stepped forward and interrupted. “His name is Dan Rolf," he said respectfully. 

The Master turned. “And who are you?” 

"His father... Master,” the old man replied, and Dan could see that he choked on the title. 

But luckily the Masters didn't notice. The Master with the great book that told him the names of all in the village turned again to Dan. He was smiling as he reached for the book. 

“Two names, huh? It doesn't take you illiterates long to get ideas. It's a good thing you can't put them down in black and white and re member them." He looked at the book, then passed it to the Master on his left. "A book of short stories," he said. “I'm glad it wasn't 'Gone With the Wind.' I think I'm going to get hysterical the next time we scrape up a copy of that. They sure must have sold a lot of them just before the change." 

He looked at his great book, then at the assembled villagers. He closed the book with a snap. “Oh, let's skip it! We've got the book.” 

They started toward the autos. "C'mon,” said one to Dan. “You'll get your reward." 

Dan stood motionless. He looked at the silent villagers, at his father, his mother, Elsa— Would he have to leave them? 

The Masters got into the autos. The one who carried the great book looked at Dan severely, suspicion crept into his eyes. "Well? Don't you want to be a Novice ... to become a Master?". 

Dan went to the auto, got in, and held tightly to the seat as it moved away from the village. One of the Masters rolled down the glass window. Dan watched, marveling, and forgetting some of his fear. 

“Phew!" said the Master. “Don't you fellows ever take baths?" 

Dan reddened. “The ... the river's awfully cold in winter," he mumbled. 

“Lay off the kid!" commanded the Master who carried the book, then turned to Dan. "Never mind this fellow, Dan. He has the same effect on others, himself. You and the book will go to St. Louis: the book to the Central Library; and you'll get your hypos and training, and there will be a room and tub for you alone.” The auto flashed over the ancient bridge and they caught a glimpse of the frozen surface. The Master shuddered. "I don't blame you; I'd never take one if I had to chop that ice first. Sometimes I think the Supreme Master overdoes it when he decrees that those poor clods can't have any metals except one small knife. God! Think of having to cook with pottery!" 

The other glanced at him and said nothing. The Master seemed to become uneasy. “But, of course, the Supreme Master has good reason for everything he does. And the Supreme Master is supreme!" 

To Dan the words sounded like a recitation. He watched the others closely to discover all that he could. But the incident had dampened the spirits of the two Masters and they sped along in silence with the other car and the other pair following. 

ST. LOUIS was like a great monster, sprawling over the land. But it seemed to Dan that the monster was nearly dead. Wide, smoothly paved streets were nearly deserted. Only a few people were in the parks. It was a city for a million inhabit ants, and in it lived only thousands. Dan liked his village and the barbaric simplicity much better. The city was something straight from the olden days and by its very emptiness made a person think always of the change. 

He was taken to a hospital. A doctor injected a nearly colorless fluid into his arm, then a week later the injection was repeated. Dan felt sick and irritable for several days, then he recovered and was taken to another part of the city and assigned to classes in a large school. 

Hour after hour of tedious drilling with fundamentals—day after day weeks! And Dan learned to read! The time came when he could look at a book and see more in the print than a dirty page. The words came to mean something to him. He read voraciously. 

He learned that the change was caused by something other than the Supreme Master. That the Supreme 

Master only became a Master and Supreme after the change. That a thing called the sleeping sickness had caused the change. For years it had been known, had been common, but not common enough to be accounted a menace. Then a new form of the sickness had swept out of the Great Lake region to the northeast and enveloped the world as a great plague. Transportation ceased—then communication. The frail civilization built up at a high cost in blood and sweat had tumbled. The new plague was not fatal. It was worse! It affected the mind. It paralyzed those centers concerned with reading. The entire world with the exception of the Masters was stricken with alexia.

And all the while the plague was sweeping the Earth the Supreme Master labored in his laboratory. He guarded himself and his coworkers as best he could, but the day came when they, too. caught the contagion. First one, then the other of the men became dependent entirely on memory, and found it unreliable for fine work, 

Still the Supreme Master labored on. He infected animals, tried to develop a serum-tried immunization, but it didn't immunize. The plague settled down quietly to stay. It became endemic. And as more and more mistakes were made from faulty memories, barbarism engulfed the world. 

The Supreme Master and one other labored alone. They succeeded in producing a serum and protected themselves. But they were alone, until they discovered that their serum would cure the alexia. It washed the brain of the last lingerings of the sickness and men and women became normal once again. 

The awful power latent in their hands must have conceived the idea of remaking the world—on different lines. The serum was developed further, but those who received its blessings were rigidly selected. A new world would be developed. 

But something within Dan pro tested at the inequality. Many nearly all—of the books were those printed before the change. And the world they spoke of so casually seemed to him infinitely more nearly right and just. But he hardly expected the Old Masters, and the sons and daughters of the Old Masters, and those informers who had become Masters to agree with him. So he kept his opinions to himself, and studied the harder. 

DAN was reading in his room of the apartment house which was used by the Advanced Novitiates as a barrack. The door opened and he looked up with irritation. His room was his, alone. Privacy was a privilege. 

“H’lo, kid,” greeted the man standing in the doorway. 

Dan recognized him. It was the Master who had carried the great book at the village, and who had reprimanded the other Master 

Dan crossed the room with out stretched hand, smiling. “I'm glad to see you! How did you ever get down here?” Then he halted uncertainly as the other released his hand. "“You know,” he said, “I never did know your name.” 

The other laughed. “Harker," he informed. “And I came down for my semiannual needling. It's sup posed to be good for a year, but I'm taking no chances. Then I had to bring in the collected books and the new servant quota from the mountains. I thought I'd look you up, to see how you were coming along. I see you can read, anyway.” He nodded toward the well filled bookcase and the open book on the table. 

Dan nodded. “Any from my village?” he asked. 

“Three,” Harker replied, then pulled a book out of his pocket and offered it to Dan. “Here's my excuse for coming. I thought you might like to read it. It's the book you turned in—a bunch of short stories, none of them very good though one's got an idea that would play hell with us if any of the illiterates caught on. Plot hinges on a guy putting sugar in gasoline to prevent its vaporizing. Wouldn't that play hell with us while we're still using stocks made before the change, and most of that concentrated right here at St. Louis?” 

“Yeah,” Dan agreed absently. "What are the names of the three?" 

"The three what? Oh, you mean the illiterates! I always pick the best-looking ... trio of beauts named Joan, Elsa, and Margy. Take Joan if you want one-the last two are wild cats.” 

Dan paled, but said nothing. Somehow he had always known it would happen. Elsa was too pretty to hide forever in a village when the Masters always chose that type. He fought to hold his anger in check, One unconsidered move and 

"What's the matter, Dan? You look sick.” 

"I am. Elsa and I were going to be married.” 

Harker tossed the book to the table. Dan smiled bitterly when he remembered with what care the village had protected the book. Harker gripped his shoulder. 

“I'm sorry,” he said sincerely. "If I'd known—” 

“Oh, it would have happened sooner or later." 

"Why don't you put in a claim for her?” 

“Me? A Novice?" 

"Yeah! That's right; I forgot you haven't the right yet. And I can't because I'm married. Judy'd raise hell." 

“Maybe she'd never find out,” Dan suggested. 

Harker snorted. “She's here with me. I tried to tell her she should trust me, but she just took one look at that trio and packed her things." 

Dan cursed. “I'll smash this Master business if ” 

"Shh! For God's sake, kid! Be quiet or you'll find yourself at the end of a rope ... the wrong end." 

"It would—” 

"Shut up!" Harker snapped. "Now," he continued when Dan was silent, “I was going to suggest that you come with me and explain to Judy and maybe we can work it." 

HARKER had taken rooms in one of the few hotels being maintained. He and Dan took the elevator and were admitted to the suite by Judy herself. Dan looked at the middle aged blonde and quit hoping. She looked hard, unsympathetic. But, nevertheless, he pleaded his case. 

When he finished, Judy reached out and patted his hand. “You poor kids," she said, sniffing. “It's just like a book. Sure we'll do that for you, and anything else that we can.” She turned to Harker and completed harshly, “And if I catch you making a pass at the girl, I'll scalp you!" 

Harker took Dan's arm and hastily ushered him out of the room. “That woman's a devil,” he muttered when they were walking down the hall to the elevators. “Well, you beat it on home, and I'll at tend to the business. I'll bring her around to see you as soon as I can . . . or rather, probably Judy will." 

Dan returned to his room, but there was no more studying that night. The protest that had lain quietly in his mind for weeks, had suddenly become an aching, burning thing. This “new world”! It was not a new world! It was but a filthy fungoid growth arising from the rotting remnants of the old. 

He remembered what Harker had said "most of the gasoline stored at St. Louis ... not producing any ... sugar prevents vaporization." If a person were to pollute the storage tanks this “new world” would collapse before it could produce sufficient supplies of its own. Dan read the story, then chuckled. Maybe he and those illiterate villagers hadn't been so far wrong after all in believing they had possessed the way to freedom. 

The next morning he went to his classes with a new determination, But it was hard to concentrate when a phantom face with dark, sparkling eyes and a quick-curving mouth persisted in interfering with his sight. He tried to call Harker twice, but could get no answer. Before starting for his room he tried again and was rewarded with the same results. 

But when he got home he found Harker waiting. Something in the older man's expression warned him. He waited. 

"Well?” he prompted. 

"I'm sorry, Dan. Sorry as hell. But I couldn't put it over. I tried, but she has been assigned to the laboratory and I couldn't do a thing." 

“Laboratory? What do they want with her there?” 

"God only knows," Harker replied, turning away to look out the window. 

Dan's fingers closed on his shoulder like clamps. He pulled the older - man around so he could look into his eyes. 

“Harker," he said, “you don't like this system any more than I do ... do you?” 

Harker said nothing for a full five seconds. Then he said, “Don't talk so damn loud.” 

Dan, relaxed a little, almost smiled. “I thought not,” he said. "I don't know your reasons, but I had a hunch as soon as you came here with that book ... and said what you did." 

"Well, go on," urged Harker. 

"I'm going to get Elsa out of here, and wreck this whole pretty scheme of the Masters. 

"Are you with me?" 

Harker hesitated. It seemed to Dan that the other's mind was working with lightning rapidity, but nothing of the thoughts showed on the man's face. “Well?” he prompted. 

"Others have the same idea." Harker said in a low voice, "about the 'new world,' I mean." 

Dan's face was a personified question. He waited. 

“I have been feeling you out," Harker went on. “I've been wondering if you wouldn't like to join us. We are ready to strike.”. 

"When?” 

“Are you with us? Remember Elsa—" 

"You know I am.” 

“O. K.! You'll help me. I'm on one of the trucks and we're going to the warehouses, then to the tank farm—at three tomorrow morning. Be ready.” 

“The sugar trick?” Dan asked as Harker started toward the door. 

Harked nodded. “And be ready,”he repeated. "We're short of men and need every hand we can get." 

ONCE Harker was gone, Dan's thoughts centered on Elsa. What good would it do her if the revolt was staged tomorrow morning. She needed help now. 

He went to the window. It was dusk, soon it would be dark. He resolved to break the strict curfew law. Somehow-in some way-he must find a way to enter the laboratory building. It would be barely possible after dark. There were few guards. 

He waited impatiently and wished that the days were as short as they had been four months ago in mid winter. Spring had its peculiar dis advantages and right now the worst seemed the increased number of day light hours. 

He crept down the fire escape stealthily. It was only seven thirty, but he hadn't been able to wait longer. The last flight of steel stairs—the one that lowered automatically with his weight-screeched horribly. He leaped to the pavement and fled to the darkness of an alley. 

There he waited until he felt sure that no one had heard, then he started toward the Medical Center. A dozen times he dodged into the protecting darknesses, and was glad that this “new world” hadn't yet acquired the efficiency necessary to keep the streets well lighted. 

At last he came in sight of the Medical Center, a huge building that had once been a hospital, but with the decrease in population many of the hospitals had become unnecessary and this had been devoted to re search and the preparation of sup plies. There was only one pair of guards that Dan could see, but then, there was only one entrance that he could see. 

He didn't even consider trying to pass the guards, but instead, crept 

along the shadowed street a hundred and fifty yards farther, waited until neither was looking in his direction, then dashed across the strip of lawn to the shrubbery that surrounded the building. He crept stealthily around the building toward the back, and the action brought to his mind the memory of the last time he had engaged in a similar occupation. He prayed that this adventure wouldn't end so disconcertingly as that had. 

He found the rear entrance easily enough, but just in time, saw the guard stationed there. He was waiting for the fellow to turn away so he could make a rush, when he saw a second guard move restlessly in the shadows near the poorly lighted doorway. No chance there either! He felt confident that he could handle a single guard silently, but a second guard would give the alarm. And if they turned out the guard to look for him, he wouldn't have a chance. He crept back the way he had come. 

There had been several lighted windows, but he avoided them and tried those of the rooms in darkness. But all were possessed of excellent screens and he wasn't even able to reach the glass. 

Dan stood up cautiously, hoping his clothes would blend with the neutral colored building, and peered through one of the lighted windows. The room was empty, but the screen was securely fastened. He heard the murmur of voices and crouched low again. Finally he concluded that the voices were coming from the next lighted window and went to that. 

He peered inside cautiously, then stared. An old man was busy at a workbench and doing all the talking, but Dan stared at the young woman who was helping. It was Elsa. 

“Now, my dear," said the old man, "get me a flask of distilled water; it is in the bottle marked 'H'—that's two straight lines up and down, connected by a shorter, horizontal line that's the snaky-looking line that can't make up its mind which way to go, and it's at the bottom of the 'H'—". 

"I know," said Elsa eagerly. “O... the flattened circle that's balanced on end." 

"Good!” the old man approved, beaming. “You are learning fast. I think this is an excellent way to learn letters and numbers. I'd tell the council, if they weren't running such a dirty business. I had no idea it would all turn out like this. If I had . . . well, it has, so there's no use talking about it. Oust me, will they? But I forget—they did. That was day before yesterday, or was it the day before that? Well, it doesn't matter! I'll show the little nincompoops! So they won't even listen to my reports any more! Well, let's drop the subject. Anger only shortens a person's life. Now, if you will give me the distilled water no ... never mind the flask; make it a beaker—I'm thirsty." 

Elsa opened the bottle and tipped the cradle to fill the beaker. Dan looked closer at the window. It was ajar, practically open, but the screen was latched. He lifted his eyes to see the old man drinking thirstily, and then looked directly into Elsa's eyes. Her lips parted; eyes widened. 

“Ah—h!” said the old man when he finished. “Best water you can get; no bugs in it ... that is, not many. Do you know, my dear, that absolutely pure water can be considered a fabulous substance; that 

no matter ... What's the trouble?” 

He turned to follow her gaze. Dan ducked and waited, cursing, for the alarm. But none came. He heard the old man repeat his question, and heard Elsa say, "I … I thought I saw that ... that young man I was telling you about." 

The old man chuckled. "It's spring, my dear. But it's too bad it wasn't he. We could unlatch the screen and invite him inside where the night patrol wouldn't bother him. Almost like Romeo and Juliet, isn't it? Ah, love is a wonderful thing, and so is spring. I remember once when I was teaching at the Advanced Masters School. I was forty and just getting my second wind ... My dear, there is some one out there. I distinctly heard a scraping then. See if it's Romeo!" 

A moment later Dan heard the window open wide and the latch of the screen click open. 

“And if it is—ask him in,” called the old man. “From your story he must be a combination of Hercules, Apollo, and a few other Greek gods ... must have an extremely interesting character.” 

The old man sounded harmless enough. Dan decided to risk the chance and stood up. 

"Dan!” cried Elsa. 

“So it is he!” exclaimed the old man. “Snatch him in and I'll play Cupid for a while.” 

Dan scrambled over the window sill and gathered Elsa into his arms. His lips sought hers hungrily. The old man watched shamelessly, and with great enjoyment. 

AT LAST he could remain quiet no longer. “That reminds me," he started. 

Dan looked at the old man. “Who's he?” he asked Elsa. 

"He was a member of the council, but they kicked him out when he tried to prove to them that the plague was losing its virulence. That the illiterates were becoming immune.” 

"Called me senile, they did,” interjected the old man aggrievedly. “Hell! Sure I am! I'm nearly a hundred! But I still got more sense than the lot of them put together. I had sense enough forty years ago to see that things weren't working out as we had planned. I wanted to call the whole thing off, but they wouldn't let me. And their sons are still worse. 

"You don't like the Masters, either?” 

"Nope! I hate 'em all . . . even myself at times. It was a dirty business. Science should not be prostituted. But we had big ideas for a new world with no wars, and no poverty. But things never seem to work out as you plan them.” 

"Are you sure that the illiterates are becoming immune?” Dan asked doubtfully. 

The old man pointed jubilantly to Elsa. "She's learning to read,” he cackled, "and she never had any of that damn serum.” 

Dan looked to Elsa for confirmation. She nodded. 

“It's true, Dan." 

Dan turned back to the old man. "And you really hate the Masters' rule?” he asked. 

“Yep! And them, too!" 

"Then we've got work to do,” said Dan, crossing to the door and peering out on the hall. “This artificial protection of the Masters has kept them from becoming immune and all we have to do is destroy every drop of the supply and beat it.” 

"Eh? What's that, young man? Destroy? There's been too much of that already. Besides they'd notice it and prepare a new supply." 

"You're right," admitted Dan. “It would be useless. The idea's no good.” 

"Yes, it is, young man; yes, it is," the old fellow argued. “But it lacks finesse—the finish that comes with age. Now, we can destroy the supply and replace it with some thing else that won't work! How's that?" He beamed, waiting for approval. 

"Rotten," grinned Dan. “They'd notice that, too. It wouldn't react." 

"Oh, but the stuff I give them will. I'll fix something that will make them as sick as dogs-and I'll be sure not to use any myself. That'd be foolish, wouldn't it?” 

"Yeah," Dan agreed dryly. "Let's start." 

“Fine! Fine! Come right this way; I know where it is kept. I know where everything is kept. I've been around here longer than any of those little nincompoops and know more than all of them put together. We'll fix them. We'll fix the whole mess ... just like I wanted to do forty years ago." 

Dan and Elsa followed the old man down the corridor to the main laboratory and they brought out the serum. They smashed the delicate containers heartlessly, sent the con tents down the drain and the glass into a box for later disposal. Then they began the long, tedious task of preparing facsimiles containing a substance which the old man glee fully guaranteed to be semi-deadly. At two, they were finished, and the old man leaned back against a work bench and surveyed their accomplishment. 

"Should have been done forty years ago," he muttered. "We thought we would be supermen, but we weren't; we were just a bunch of lousy opportunists enslaving men." 

Dan glanced up at the clock, remembered Harker. “I've got to go,” he said quickly. “Harker and I will put on the finishing touch before morning." 

"It's finished now," stated the old man positively. "Summer is coming and that is always the critical period.” 

“But every little bit helps,” said Dan, kissing Elsa. “I'll come back tomorrow night and we'll steal a car and leave.” 

The old man watched them, chuckling reminiscently, then when Dan had opened the window and started out, he asked, “What was that name?" 

Dan dropped to the ground out side and looked back at the old man suspiciously. Then his suspicion faded. It was absolutely without cause. The old man had demonstrated his worth. 

"Harker,” he said, and disappeared into the night. 

The old man turned to the box of broken glass. lifted it to take it away, then dropped the box with a curse. 

"Call him back! Call him back!" he ordered Elsa. 

Unquestioningly Elsa ran to the window, looked out and called as loudly as she dared. But there was no answer. She called again, then the old man was insisting that she come with him. 

He moved rapidly toward the entrance, despite his age, and Elsa was forced to run at times to keep up with him. 

“Wh—what's the matter?" she gasped. 

"I thought that name was familiar. Damn my memory! There's a major of the secret police named Harker; usually he acts as an agent provocateur.. 

Dan sped through the darkened streets toward home. He arrived far ahead of the appointed time for his meeting with Harker, and then had to wait nervously in his room. 

Harker arrived on the dot. Dan opened the door in response to the gentle rapping. 

"Hurry," whispered Harker, “but don't make any noise. Mustn't disturb others." 

"O. K.," answered Dan, fastening the belt of his coat and following Harker into the hall. Silently they went down, using the stairs. A small truck stood at the curb, with a man standing on the running board. He leaped to the sidewalk when they approached. 

Harker made no introductions, but climbed behind the wheel, growling, "Get in the middle, Dan." 

He started the auto smoothly and they sped along the silent streets, The motion seemed to awaken Harker's tongue. 

“At last the Masters are going to get what they deserve,” he said, as though to start the conversation.. 

“Yep,” agreed Dan. “It'll sure play hell with them if it works. But it sounds almost too simple. I'm glad it isn't our only”. 

"O. K., Jones,” Harker cut in. "You heard it. Did you get the record?” 

“Sure thing.” 

“Put the cuffs on him then. Use your gun butt on him if he gets tough. Don't take any chances shooting in here. That'll come at dawn.” 

Dan looked from one to the other and the steel clicked securely around his wrists before he was fully awake to the situation. Then it was use less to struggle. 

"But the sugar—in the gasoline?” he protested. 

Harker laughed harshly. "I've used that a dozen times and it's good for a dozen more. We always test the Novices this way. Put some illiterate they might love on the spot —then show them a way to gum up the works. It might work, at that. It does in smaller quantities,” 

"B—but Judy ... what about her?” 

“That is one of my few mistakes," Harker said. “I told you she was a devil, and she's got her hooks in me and won't let go. Some day, though, I'll be able to figure a way out." 

Dan relapsed into silence. He could see no reason for hope, and felt none. Only one thing was there for which he was glad—Harker had interrupted before he could tell about the serum. The Masters would not for long be Masters. 

He smiled bitterly when he found the old man and Elsa waiting at the station. And he discarded even that last comfort. And with it gone and Elsa working with him, he found that he no longer cared much. 

The old man stepped forward briskly. “Good work, major," he congratulated. “I'll take charge of the prisoner.” 

"But” Harker started to object. The old man straightened a full two inches and Harker col lapsed. “Yes, sir," he said meekly. "It shall be as you wish, Master. The prisoner is yours.” 

"I want a pistol, too,” demanded the old man. “And the keys.” 

He received the weapon promptly and threatened Dan with it. "Now, march!” he commanded. “You should make a good specimen." 

Elsa followed them outside, eyeing the old one a bit anxiously. She hoped the fellow was only an excellent actor, but things had been too smooth for him to be of any aid to them. His integrity must be considered beyond question. 

They halted at the side of a fast speedster. The old man unlocked the cuffs and handed Dan the pistol, chuckling. 

“Take it before there's an accident. And get in this auto and head for your hills." 

“You're going to let us go?” said Elsa. 

"Sure, what did you think?" "Who are you?” asked Dan. 

"I used to be Supreme Master, until day before yesterday ... or was it the day before that? Damn my memory! Maybe a good touch of the plague will do me good ... can't do much harm anyway." 

"Then you started all this?" questioned Dan. 

The old man nodded. “But for the last forty years I've been only a figurehead for their dirty work. Anyway, we are finishing the whole mess now.” 

“Why don't you come with us?" asked Elsa from the auto, and Dan halted to second the invitation. 

“Nope. I'm too old," he said regretfully and watched Dan get be hind the wheel. Dan was wondering anxiously whether or not his few weeks' training would prove sufficient to cope with the machine. He started the engine cautiously, and felt an increasing confidence with his success. He looked up at the old man with a grin. “Good-bye." 

“Wait a minute!” cried the old fellow. “I'll tell you ... you come back next year and teach me how to read, and I'll see if I can't get my third wind. And bring the youngster, too,” he concluded with a leering cackle. 

END