A staircase beckoned. He sprang up the first flight, met an armed guard posted on the landing. The guard started to say something, but Riddell charged furiously on through him, knocking him reeling. "Stop that man!" someone shouted. He looked down and saw several of the men who had stood at the entrance dashing after him. Riddell grabbed the first-floor guard, lifted him in the air, and hurled him down the staircase into the midst of his pursuers. Then he turned and continued ascending. There was no further trouble till he reached the third floor. There, he stood looking around for a second, heard the sound of Barr's hoarse, rasping voice coming from the left, and raced down the hall. He came to a halt in front of an office-door guarded by another soldier. "What do you want, Corporal? Why aren't you downstairs?" Without replying, Riddell drove a fist into the man's stomach. He gagged and doubled up. Riddell pushed him aside, opened the door, stepped in, and turned the lock. A voice was threatening from the balcony. "Our enemies in Center City threaten our very lives!" Riddell looked up. The window was open, and standing there delivering his harangue was Barr. Riddell watched him. He was a remarkably small man to be wielding so much authority. The sound of footsteps echoed in the hall outside, and Riddell heard a shoulder crash against the unyielding oak door. There wasn't much time. He took a step forward--and stopped. He stood there, staring at his hands. He was frozen. He had killed for Center City before, had calmly fired shots into a swarm of fear-crazed looters who were sacking the bombed city, had executed criminals with his own hands in the name of the city. And he had vowed never to kill again. He swore the rebuilding would be accomplished peacefully. Yet up ahead was David Barr. A bullet in the unsuspecting demagogue's head and it would all be over. But Riddell couldn't do it that way. He hovered there in indecision for a fraction of an instant before the answer came. Mere bloodshed was not enough--but violence was sometimes necessary in the cause of peace. It was a paradox whose truth was inescapable. He stepped forward. His decision was made. Barr broke off his speech and whirled. "Who are you? Guards! _Guards!_" "They're not coming," Riddell said. "Your door's so solid they can't break in. We're here alone." Barr's thin hands moved swiftly toward his hip, but Riddell moved also. Barr's gun came up just as Riddell's fist crashed into his arm. A shot whined across the room and buried itself in the luxurious panelling, and Riddell reached out and knocked the gun from Barr's fingers. Again Barr screamed for his men. And from below came a loud roar, a shout of defiance. Riddell smiled. The soldiers sensed that someone had broken into Barr's stronghold. "Let him have it!" yelled somebody. "Kill Barr!" "We don't want to fight another war!" shouted another. Riddell glanced down and saw the soldiers, divided.