The newspapers, however, had discovered John Cave at last and there were photographs of “Present-Day Messiah in Court.” As ill luck would have it, the undertakers of Laguna had come to the aid of their prophet with banners which proclaimed his message. This picketing of the court was photographed and exhibited in the tabloids. Paul was in a frenzy. Publicist though he was, in his first rage he expressed to me the novel sentiment that not all publicity was good. “But we’ll get back at those bastards,” he said grimly, not identifying which ones he meant but waving toward the city hidden by the Venetian blinds of his office window. * * * * * I asked for instructions. Cave had, the day before, gone back to Washington to lie low until the time was right for a triumphant reappearance. Iris had gone with him; on a separate plane, however, to avoid scandal. Clarissa had sent various heartening if confused messages from New York while Paul and I were left alone to gather up the pieces and begin again. Our close association during those difficult days impressed me with his talents and though, fundamentally, I still found him appalling, I couldn’t help but admire his superb operativeness. “I’m going ahead with the original plan ... just like none of this happened. The stockholders are willing and we’ve got enough money, though not as much as I’d like, for the publicity build-up. I expect Cave’ll pick up some more cash in Seattle. He always does, wherever he goes.” “Millionaires just flock to him?” “Strange to tell, yes. But then nearly everybody does.” “It’s funny since the truth he offers is all there is to it. Once experienced, there’s no longer much need for Cave or for an organization.” This of course was the paradox which time and the unscrupulous were bloodily to resolve. Paul’s answer was reasonable. “That’s true but there’s the problem of sharing it. If millions felt the same way about death the whole world would be happier and, if it’s happier, why, it’ll be a better place to live in.” “Do you really believe this?” “Still think of me as a hundred percent phony?” Paul chuckled good-naturedly. “Well, it so happens, I _do_ believe that. It also so happens that if this thing clicks we’ll have a world organization and if we have that there’ll be a big place for number one in it. It’s all mixed up, Gene. I’d like to hear _your_ motives, straight from the shoulder.”