J. Archibald Meigs chewed briskly on an unlighted cigar, while Hannibal Markham kept his eyes on the cube and dangling chain like one fascinated. "It is the fate of a man who makes startling discoveries to be classed among disciples in black art," observed Quinn calmly. "What is the hour, Mr. Gilhooly?" he asked. The head of the railway pool consulted his repeater. "Eleven-fourteen," he replied. "And high time I was going," added Popham. "Just a few moments more," said the professor. Turning to the wall behind him, he caught a small lever and turned it over as far as it would go. The castle vibrated slightly, communicating a perceptible swaying motion to the pendent chain. "What’s this?" cried Markham, jumping up. "Do not be alarmed, my friends," cried Quinn, whirling around. His face was pallid as death, and his beady eyes gleamed like coals. Then, wonder of wonders, the white cube settled to the floor. "Ha!" shouted Popham. "Your anti-gravity compound is not very long lived, it seems to me." "You will find differently, to your cost!" returned the professor through his teeth. "Augustus Popham, I, Kenward Quinn, arraign you, and Emmet Gilhooly, and J. Archibald Meigs, and Hannibal Markham as foes of the human race! You are leeches who would suck the life-blood from the veins of the poor——" With steady forefinger, Quinn had transfixed each of the plutocrats as he called his name. Markham was already on his feet, and the other three were not slow in following him. "What’s this, what’s this?" gasped Gilhooly. "An insult!" muttered Popham. "The old addle-pate is not accountable for what he says or does," remarked J. Archibald Meigs. "We had best leave this steel trap of his while there is yet time," counseled Markham. "While there is yet time!" repeated Quinn, with a wild laugh. "A pretty set of conspirators you are, on my soul! Markham, there, would raise the price of food until the poor would go hungry; you, Meigs, would so manipulate the cost of clothing that they would not have the wherewithal to cover their nakedness; Popham would make fuel a luxury of the rich; and Gilhooly would so boost passenger and freight rates as to quadruple to the consumer the tremendous cost of the necessities of life. Deny me if you can, if you dare!" Quinn looked like a Nemesis as he confronted the four men and lashed them with his scorpion whip of words. "Fiddlededee!" exclaimed Popham. "We deserve it," said Meigs, "for it was the height of folly for us to come here, in the first place." "Is this why you brought us here?" asked Markham, "to air your own particular ideas on sociology and to make us the victims of your abuse?"