“An illegal act,” he said, reseating himself. “If that were known I should be liable to forced labor in the leather factories for several years. Now, Arnold, you see my faith in you. Well, then, I cannot answer you. He is a man of superhuman powers, more feared than any man has ever been feared. There is a popular belief that he was born a thousand years ago, and has wandered from land to land, waiting for the new age to dawn. The Christians called him Antichrist. Nothing has ever been learned as to his origin. He appeared like a conqueror, about the year 1980, to lead the hosts of the revolution to victory.” “He is the ruler?” David shook his head. “Boss Lembken is the titular head. But all know that Sanson is supreme, although he chooses to let Boss Lembken hold the reins of power. He could do anything, make any laws he wished, become supreme ruler of earth. He is believed to be immortal, and to have the power of renewing his youth whenever he wishes. Arnold, the people believe that he can bestow immortality upon them and overcome their last enemy, death. That is the secret of their terror of him. And—” His voice sank to a whisper: “You have come at a critical time. For this expectancy has set a date. None knows how the rumor started, but during the next few months, ‘soon after the Cold Solstice,’ the prophecy runs, a Messiah is to come to earth, ignorant of his destiny. When he learns it he will offer mankind its ancient liberty. Sanson will offer immortality in place of it. Then will come the most titanic of all struggles, and the result is not known.” His voice quavered and ceased. And, staring at him, incredulous at first, I realized that David was repeating no foolish, popular tale, but what he himself believed. Even Science had not succeeded in banishing faith from the hearts of men. She had made it superstition instead. My brain reeled as the dreadful picture David had drawn came home to me. “David,” I exclaimed impulsively, “you are an educated man and an intelligent one. Why do you not wear the white uniform? Surely you are not a defective?” “Yes,” he replied. “Under the Sanson law. My father had epileptic seizures in his youth. He had to hide—but some day I will tell you about that. It penalizes me twelve points, and Elizabeth six, thank God!” And, just as the airscout’s face had expressed fear at my own expletive, so David recoiled in horror at the word that had burst from his lips. “Arnold,” he said, taking me by the arm, “there is a book—an illegal book, to possess which would mean death. I am going to lend it to you—and after you have read it you can tell me your story.” CHAPTER IX THE BOOK I found the book beneath my pillow. David had been afraid to hand it to me, and I was not surprised. For assuredly the anonymous author would have received the utmost penalty from the Council.