Hicks' gaze grew slowly in intentness as if his mind were gathering behind it, concentrating its power on one point. The point seemed to be midway between and above Hennion's eyes. Hennion had an impulse to put his hand to the spot, as if it were burnt, but his habit of impassiveness prevented. He thought the gaze might represent the way in which Hicks' mind worked. A focussing mind was a good thing for anyone who worked with his brains, but it might have extravagances. An analysis concentrated and confined to an infinitely small point in the centre of the forehead might make an infinitely small hole to the back of the head, but it would not comprehend a whole character. A man's character ran to the ends of his hands and feet. “I'm an engineer,” Hennion went on, “and in that way I have to know the effectiveness of things I handle and apply. And in that way men too are to me so much effectiveness.” “I know about you,” said Hicks sharply. “Your men like you. You've never had a strike.” “Why--no.” Hicks' manner had changed. It was quick, excited, and angular. “You're wrong. They're something more to you, that you didn't count in. Why do they like you?” “I don't know.” “Exactly. But it's something effective, ain't it?” Hennion paused and felt confused. A man of such sharp analysis and warped performance as this, how was one to get to understand him? He leaned back in his chair and crossed his knees. The sharp analysis might be a trick Hicks had caught from listening to Aidee's speeches. It sounded like Aidee. “Well, anyhow, Mr. Hicks, in the way of effectiveness, why did you shoot Wood?” Hicks' eyes were little pin-points of concentration. “He sold the people to the corporations.” “Well. But suppose he did. Will the next man do any better? If not, where's the effectiveness?” “He won't be so sharp.” “You thought Wood was too sharp to be downed Aidee's way?” “He was the devil's latest scheme. I sent him to the devil.” “And shoulder the consequences. I like that. But the next man. Suppose I were the next man.” Hicks' teeth clicked together. His hands moved across the table. They were thin and claw-like, and the nails scratched the boards. He said softly: “Look out what you do.” “What shall I do? I'm looking around for advice. Does it seem queer if I ask some of you?”