“My old guard, Mr. Manfred?” Oberzohn shook his head in bewilderment. “This is beyond my comprehension.” “Is your sister well?” asked Manfred blandly. Newton shrugged his shoulders. “She is naturally upset. And who wouldn’t be? Joan is a very tender-hearted girl.” “She has been that way for years,” said Manfred offensively. “May I smoke?” “Will you have one of my cigarettes?” Manfred’s grave eyes fixed the doctor in a stare that held the older man against his will. “I have had just one too many of your cigarettes,” he said. His words came like a cold wind. “I do not want any more, Herr Doktor, or there will be vacancies in your family circle. Who knows that, long before you compound your wonderful elixir, you may be called to normal immortality?” The yellow face of Oberzohn had turned to a dull red. “You seem to know so much about me, Mr. Manfred, as myself,” he said in a husky whisper. Manfred nodded. “More. For whilst you are racing against time to avoid the end of a life which does not seem especially worthy of preservation, and whilst you know not what day or hour that end may come, I can tell you to the minute.” The finger of his gloved hand pointed the threat. All trace of a smile had vanished from Monty Newton’s face. His eyes did not leave the caller’s. “Perhaps you shall tell me.” Oberzohn found a difficulty in speaking. Rage possessed him, and only his iron will choked down the flames from view. “The day that injury comes to Mirabelle Leicester, that day you go out—you and those who are with you!” “Look here, Manfred, there’s a law in this country——” began Monty Newton hotly. “I am the law.” The words rang like a knell of fate. “In this matter I am judge, jury, hangman. Old or young, I will not spare,” he said evenly. “Are you immortal too?” sneered Monty. Only for a second did Manfred’s eyes leave the old man’s face. “The law is immortal,” he said. “If you dream that, by some cleverly concerted coup, you can sweep me from your path before I grow dangerous, be sure that your sweep is clean.” “You haven’t asked me to come here to listen to this stuff, have you?” asked Newton, and though his words were bold, his manner aggressive, there were shadows on his face which were not there when Manfred had come into the room—shadows under his eyes and in his cheeks where plumpness had been. “I’ve come here to tell you to let up on Miss Leicester. You’re after something that you cannot get, and nobody is in a position to give you. I don’t know what it is—I will make you a present of that piece of information. But it’s big—bigger than any prize you’ve ever gone after in your wicked lives. And to get that, you’re prepared to sacrifice innocent lives with the recklessness of spendthrifts who think there is no bottom to their purse. The end is near!” He rose slowly and stood by the table, towering over the stiff-backed doctor.