Less than five minutes after the servants had gone, Lien Weng gave a quiet signal. The American, George Hierons, and the Frenchman de Tournel rose abruptly from their chairs and proceeded at once to lock the two doors of the room. With a ceremonious bow they handed the keys to Lien Weng. The Chinaman turned to face Saul Hartz. “Sir, the Court is now constituted,” he said without a trace of emotion. His English was perfect, but there was a curiously soft inflection in the low voice. Saul Hartz, defiance in his air, merely shrugged contemptuous shoulders. Every sense keenly strung, he had been apprised by this overt act even before it came. “My good friends have done me the honor,” Lien Weng continued in a voice whose timbre was persuasion itself, “to invite me to conduct these wholly informal proceedings.” “And you might add ‘wholly illegal’ while you are about it,” said the Colossus with a sudden gust of anger. Lien Weng raised a finger with a gravity verging upon the pontifical. “Legal--illegal--are words--words. This Court--this Council of Seven deals only with realities.” “Golf balls a shilling!” In order to express an utter contempt the Colossus spat in the fire. “Words--phrases!” The courtesy of a very old civilization rooted in an immemorial past was in the deep smile of Lien Weng. “I ask you, sir, to believe that as far as this world is concerned we are about to deal with a matter of life and death.” Another gust of rage swept Saul Hartz. “About to murder me, eh?” he said savagely, “as you murdered Garland the other day, not to mention Kornileff the Russian, and Yamotoga the Jap, and heaven knows who besides!” When the Colossus had spoken he got up from his chair. “Be seated, pray,” said Lien Weng with his priest’s smile. “It will be more agreeable for all if you stay as you were.” “If you intend to stick a knife in me and put me underneath that”--Saul Hartz pointed to the yawning Tudor fireplace which might easily have concealed a chasm--“get through with it at once. I’m not in a mood for cat and mouse.” Lien Weng certainly looked feline enough as he narrowed his eyes and yet distended their pupils. His subtle face was luminous with meaning. “You will be unwise,” he said simply, “not to hear all that is said to you. It is not our wish to go to the extreme. Sir, your case has received much consideration. It is our prayer that we may deal with it in the way of wisdom. I will not add in the way of mercy and justice, for ‘mercy,’ ‘justice,’ those too are words, and the Council of Seven deals only with things. And yet its every act is governed by the ideals we serve. This Council is pledged to do the will of the Time-Spirit with as little suffering or unhappiness to the object of its attentions as may consist with the high and noble aim it has in view.”