Outside, in the station yard, three private motors awaited the train’s arrival. Others of the week-end party were clearly expected. One man, in point of fact, was already in conversation with the chauffeur of the first vehicle by the time Hartz and Endor arrived on the scene. This man, tall and arresting, with the open, alert look of the best type of American, would have been a striking figure anywhere. George Hierons by name, his reputation had spread already through two hemispheres as that of an audaciously progressive thinker; one of a chosen band of pioneers in the world of mind whom many conceived likely to revolutionize modern conditions, social, economic and industrial. As soon as Endor saw the dominant figure of George Hierons he went straight up to him and with an impulsiveness delightfully frank, grasped his hand. “My dear fellow,” he said, “how good--how very good to see you! When did you reach this country?” “Ten days ago,” said Hierons, shaking hands cordially. Saul Hartz, who had met Hierons more than once in New York, came up also with a salutation. The proffered hand, however, was declined by the American, who significantly turned aside to greet a remarkable personage who at that moment, with slow dignity, was approaching the little group round the first motor. A grave and reverend Celestial, gorgeous in a jacket of yellow brocade, and the regalia of a high and exclusive order of his race, exchanged a low bow with George Hierons. The American at once presented John Endor to this dignitary, but the controller of the U. P., although he pressed forward for the obvious purpose of being included in this ceremony, was left out in the cold. There could be no mistaking the icy antagonism with which both men regarded him; there could be no mistaking that such an emotion was fully shared by John Endor. The manner in which all three moved towards the door of the second motor, leaving Saul Hartz stranded high and dry in sole possession of the first, seemed to drive the fact home. The Colossus, aware that a public affront had been given him, turned upon his heel not without a hint of disdain. His bearing as he entered the first car, alone, was calm indifference. He cared for none, he feared none; moreover, he prided himself upon his power of wiping off old scores and paying grudges with interest. The car waited a minute or two to give other arrivals an opportunity of joining him. None did so; and the first of the three cars started for Doe Hill with Saul Hartz its sole occupant.