The two men had a nodding acquaintance with each other. All the personalities of the time were known to Saul Hartz. He went everywhere, he rubbed shoulders continually with the celebrated, the notorious, in fact with all the members of that heterogeneous body who from whatever cause are large in the public eye. John Endor was not yet forty but he was a figure already in the life of the time. The Colossus never forgot a face. And he never forgot any material fact that was involved in the process of recognition. His glance was held at once, less by John Endor than by an ugly bruise above the right eye. Seeing it, he gave a slight start. Involuntarily his gaze fell to the eyes beneath, and again he started, this time, at their look of open, implacable enmity. Saul Hartz smiled. On all occasions his power of recovery was automatic. As became one who saw himself as a modern dictator, he allowed nothing to come between the wind and his nobility. The eyes of John Endor would have quelled a lesser man. They merely goaded the Colossus into action. “I wonder if we are going to the same place.” Hartz’s voice, which seldom rose above a husky wheeze and yet had the power of carrying a great distance, had a note of half insolent _bonhomie_. It had, too, the complacence of one who does not disguise that he has sized up all things in the visible universe. Not for him the irritating reserves, the conventional glosses of “the English gentleman.” Sublime faith in himself and a stupendous power of will enabled him to ride straight at every obstacle in his path. He knew that he could and would surmount it. No answer having greeted his remark, the Colossus slowly repeated it. “Mr. Hartz?” The tentativeness of John Endor was emphasized by a quick fall of the eyelids. The owner of the _Planet_ smiled affirmatively. “My first visit to Doe Hill,” he said. “A beautiful Tudor house, I’m told. I suppose you know it well.” “I’ve been there several times.” Endor’s cold politeness let it be seen that he was not in a mood to talk. “Shakespeare and the musical glasses.” The Colossus, however, declined to be put off. He had things to say to this man, and he was going to say them. Between the two was an antagonism that was absolutely deadly, but so well was each versed in the rules of the game that a third person not sharing their grim secret could never have guessed it. “Who’ll be there?” said Hartz in a light tone. Endor was unable to say. “Our dear Helen Sholto for one, perhaps.” The genial voice was full of charm. John Endor believed not. And to hear that name on the lips of the man opposite was a little more than he could bear. He let down the window with a jerk. “By the way, congratulations--hearty congratulations.” The husky wheeze floating across the compartment seemed to grow more virile. “A lucky--a very lucky fellow. I hope you know--but of course, you _do_ know--what a prize--an altogether exceptional prize--you have drawn in the lottery.”