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 box. Endor, alone at the table, sat a picture of dismay. He had a full share of the egoism inseparable from a man who believes intensely in himself. It was his sense of election that lay at the root of his power. He was an elemental besides; his mind was a thing of wide curves, moving on broad lines of right and wrong. For one in essence so primitive, it would have been hard to exaggerate the force of the blow.

The enemy was out in the open at last. Sitting there in a thrall of sudden darkness, that was his thought. The Colossus to whom in the spirit of Sir Galahad he had offered battle was known as a deadly and a subtle foe. To such an extent had he centralized power, so absolute was his control of the wires, to such perfection had he brought his "stunts," his "propaganda," and all the rest of the paraphernalia, which so easily fouled public opinion at its source, that it was said that he could kill a reputation as easily as he could make one.

For some little time past, Endor had suspected that he was on the "Index." More than once had he challenged the bona fides of the U. P.; more than once had he thrown down the gage to the all-powerful newspaper ring which was now proposing to link up every continent. Moreover, in the phrase of a recent speech, he had bitterly attacked "its Vehmgericht of assassins." That speech, made to Helen's dismay, and of which she was far from realizing the true significance, would not, he knew, be forgiven. Nothing