"Oh, God!" said Bell very quietly. "And he's offering me this power! He's trying to persuade me to become like him. He's offering me pleasures!" * * * * * He laughed unpleasantly. And then he went sick with helplessness. He could kill Ribiera, perhaps, and let only God know how many people go mad. Perhaps. Or perhaps Ribiera would merely be supplanted by another man. Ortiz had said that he killed The Master's deputy in Buenos Aires, but that another man had taken his place. And the thing went on. And The Master desired a deputy in the United States.... "Somehow," said Bell very softly, "this has got to be stopped. Somehow. Right away. That devilish stuff! Can you get hold of a bit of the antidote?" he asked abruptly. "The merest drop of it?" She shook her head. "No, Senhor. It is given in food, in wine. One never knows that one has had it. It is tasteless, and we have only Senhor Ribiera's word that it has been given." Bell's hands clenched. "So devilish clever.... What are we going to do?" The girl stuffed the corner of her handkerchief into her mouth. "I am thinking of my little baby," she said, choking. "I must persuade you, Senhor. I--I have been tearful. I--I am not attractive. I will try. If I am not attractive to you...." * * * * * Bell cursed, deeply and savagely. It seemed to be the only possible thing to do. And then he spoke coldly. "Listen to me, Senhora. Ribiera talked frankly to me just now. He knows that so far I am not subdued. If I escape he cannot blame you. He cannot! And I am going to attempt it. If you will follow me...." "There is no escape for me," she said dully, "and if he thinks that I knew of your escape and did not tell him...." "Follow me," said Bell, smiling queerly. "I shall take care that he does not suspect it." He gazed about for an instant, orienting himself. The plane that had just landed--the last of a dozen or more that had arrived in the past two days--had dipped down on the private landing field to the north. There was a beautifully kept way running from the landing field to the house, and he went on through the thick shrubbery amid a labyrinth of paths, choosing the turnings most likely to lead him to it. * * * * * He came out upon it suddenly, and faced toward the field. There were two men coming toward the house, on foot. One was a flying pilot, still in his flying clothes. The other was a tall man, for a Brazilian, with the lucent clarity of complexion that bespeaks uncontaminated white descent. He was white-haired, and his face was queerly tired, as if he were exhausted. Bell looked sharply. He seemed to see a resemblance to someone he knew in the tall man. He spoke quickly to the girl beside him. "Who is the man to the left?" "Senhor Canalejas," said the girl drearily. "He is the Minister of War. I suppose he, too...."