The huddled meetings about Storch's shattered lamp were no more, but in small groups the scattered malcontents exchanged whispered confidences in any gathering place they chanced upon. Fred Starratt listened to the furtive reports of their activities with morbid interest. But he had to confess that, so far, they were proving empty windbags. The promised reign of terror seemed still a long way off. There were moments even when he would speculate whether or not he was being tricked into unsupported crime. But he raised the question merely out of curiosity... Word seemed to have been passed that he was disdainful of all plans for setting the trap which he was to spring. But one day, coming upon a group unawares in a Greek coffeehouse on Folsom Street, he caught a whispered reference to Hilmer. Upon the marble-topped table was spread a newspaper--Hilmer's picture smiled insolently from the printed page. The gathering broke up in quick confusion on finding him a silent auditor. When they were gone he reached for the newspaper. A record-breaking launching was to be achieved at Hilmer's shipyard within the week. The article ended with a boastful fling from Hilmer to the effect that his plant was running to full capacity in spite of strikes and lockouts. Fred threw the paper to the floor. A chill enveloped him. He had caught only the merest fragments of conversation which had fallen from the lips of the group he had surprised, but his intuitions had been sharpened by months of misfortune. He knew at once what date had been set for the consummation of Storch's sinister plot. He rose to his feet, shivering until his teeth chattered. He felt like a man invested with all the horrid solemnity of the death watch. CHAPTER XXI That night Storch confirmed Fred's intuitions. He said, pausing a moment over gulping his inevitable bread and cheese: "I have planned everything for Saturday." Fred cut himself a slice of bread. "So I understand," he said, coldly. "Who told you?" "Your companions are great gossips ... and I have ears." The insolence in Fred's tone made Storch knit his brows. "Well, knowing so much, you must be ready for details now," he flung out. Fred nodded. Storch lighted his pipe and glowered. "The launching is to take place at noon. Hilmer has planned to arrive at the yards promptly at eleven forty-five at the north gate. Everything is ready, down to the last detail." "Including the bomb?" Fred snapped, suddenly. "Including the bomb," Storch repeated, malevolently, caressing the phrase with a note of rare affection. "It is the most skillful arrangement I have seen in a long time ... in a kodak case. By the way ... are you accurate at heaving things?... You are to stand upon the roof of a row of one-story stores quite near the entrance and promptly at the precise minute--" "Ah, a time bomb!" "Naturally." "And if Hilmer should be late?"