“The Society prescribed for Garland a certain course within a certain time. His only chance of life was to follow it, but that was a fact he chose to ignore.” “No course has yet been prescribed for me, at any rate.” “It will be.” The Colossus folded his arms with a gesture of defiance. “That remains to be seen,” he said. “You are bound to hear more of this matter.” Wygram toyed with the paper that was still in his hand. “The Society of the Friends of Peace has made up its mind to break you.” “If it can.” Wygram’s eyes were fixed once again upon a face which was betraying signs of an ever-deepening conflict. “That hardly admits of doubt,” he said in a low, solemn voice. “Nonsense ... nonsense!” The manner of the Colossus was that of one struggling to throw off an evil dream. “I refuse to be intimidated by this sort of deviltry. I and my papers, I and my world-wide organization, will fight this _Vehmgericht_. We will scotch and kill it with the resources we command.” “I hope you may.” Wygram weighed his words coolly. “Of two evils it is well to choose the less. And that is saying much. For the U. P. is a foul blot enough on our civilization, heaven knows. And you yourself, sir, as I see you, are a sort of third-rate antichrist....” “Thank you!” “A Napoleon _in pétto_, but a dire menace, all the same, to the peace of the world. Still, your wings are about to be clipped and that is reason enough for honest men to rejoice.” Saul Hartz resented these words deeply, but his arrogance was too great to allow the fact to appear in his manner. His laugh had even a ring of good humor. Wygram, fully bent on taking the measure of the man, did not let that laugh escape him. He rather liked the fellow for being able to indulge it at such a moment. After all, this brummagem Colossus might be of larger mold than on the surface he seemed. One thing was clear. They were well met, these two. Each sought to assay the other, and if possible, transmute any residuum of exact knowledge into power. “You are out of sympathy with my aims and ambitions.” The mildness of Saul Hartz had quite an apologetic sound. “But don’t for that reason blind yourself willfully to the fact that the remedy we are up against is far worse than the disease.” “I wonder!” “You needn’t!” said the Colossus, sternly. “This _Vehmgericht_ is trying to put back the clock five hundred years.” “The U. P.,” said Wygram, “aims at even more than that. It would reduce the whole world to slavery.” “A mere figure of speech, my friend!” “We shall not agree. The U. P. is now an international ring of newspaper bosses which has corralled everything that relates to the printed word. Cables, labor, paper, ink, power of distribution--it has cornered them all. The time is at hand when the humblest sheet of provincial gossip will be subject to your veto here, and the veto of Breit in America.” “Impossible!”