They went back to the shack for a bite of lunch. After they had eaten, Fred put on his new clothes. He felt now completely cut off from the cankerous life which had been so deliberately eating its way into his philosophy. Could it be possible that clothes did in some mysterious way make the man? Would his unkempt beard and gaping shoes and tattered clothing have kept him nearer the path of violence? A little after three o'clock in the afternoon a man came to the door and handed Storch a carefully wrapped package. They did not exchange a word. Storch took the package and stowed it away in a corner, covering it with a ragged quilt. "That is the bomb!" flashed through Fred's mind. From that moment on this suggestive corner of the room was filled with a mysterious fascination. It was like living on the edge of a volcano. Later in the day he said to Storch: "Are you sure the maker of that bomb was skillful?" Storch bared his green teeth. "One is sure of nothing!" he snapped back. Fred tried to appear nonchalant. "Aren't you rather bold, having this thing delivered in broad daylight?" "What have we to fear?" "I thought we were being watched." Storch threw back his head and roared with laughter. "_You_ have been watched ... if that's what you mean. I never believe in taking any unnecessary chances." Fred made no reply. But a certain contempt for Storch that hitherto had been lacking rose within him. He had always fancied certain elements of bigness in this man in spite of his fanaticism. Suddenly he was conscious that his silence had evoked a subtle uneasiness in Storch. At this moment he laughed heartily himself as he rose from his seat, slapping Storch violently on the back as he cried: "Upon my word, Storch, you're a master hand! No matter what happens now, at least I'll have the satisfaction of knowing that I was perfectly stage-managed." They kept close to the house until nearly midnight. At a few moments to twelve Storch drew a flask of smuggled brandy from his hip pocket. "Here, take a good drink!" he said, passing the bottle to Fred. Fred did as he was bidden. Storch followed suit. "Would you like a turn in the open?" Storch inquired, not unkindly. "Yes," Fred assented. They put on their hats. When they were outside Storch made a little gesture of surrender. "You lead ... I'll follow," he said, indulgently.