Page:Weird Tales Volume 4 Number 3 (1924-11).djvu/58

Rh of thought that might fall from their lips. His change of position was not noticed by the two men. They continued their discussion, and their voices rose by degrees from the subdued murmur which had first come to the ears of George Washington.

The men had looked with disfavor on George's intrusion, when he first entered the park, but they had lost interest as they saw him slouch down, a drooping flower, on the park bench. They had lowered their voices, momentarily, but the excitement that was mastering them soon found its way into their speech, and became audible to the listener on the other bench.

George suddenly sat bolt upright, for be thought he heard Dr. Jones mention the Great Panjandrum. Now the Great Panjandrum, as everyone knew, was the high priest of voodoo. But was this mighty being a real person? And was he a friend of Dr. Jones and his companion?

His pulse beat faster, and he edged closer to the other bench. But his heart went into his mouth at what he heard, and he left his bench and crawled on hands and knees, until he was directly behind the two men. His tongue was dry, and he swallowed with difficulty. His eyes were starting from their sockets. All thought of propounding his problem to Dr. Elusha Jones had left him, for the man seemed no longer a great intellect. He was, rather, a sinister being, sent to destroy the colored race. For he was planning an African republic in Chicago, which would surely bring the fires of the white man's vengeance upon every colored man and woman on the South Side. The whole city, perhaps the nation, would be involved in a race war more terrible than anything ever known in the United States before.

A street address dropped from Dr. Jones' lips. George Washington's ears drank it in, and he fastened his mind on it, for it was the home of the Great Panjandrum, the fanatic whose chief instrument for spreading sedition was this doctor of philosophy there before him, Elusha Jones. The Great Panjandrum, then, was a living being, and not a mere myth.

"And do not write it down," Dr. Jones was saying to his companion, "for it there should be any miscarriage of our plans, no one must know where to find the master. If not today, then his dream must be realized at another date. For we shall try, again and again, until the African race comes into its own, as our superior abilities entitle us to do."

George Washington, flat on his face behind the two speakers, felt a Cold shiver run over him. Drops of cold sweat fell unheeded on the grass. A panic fear gnawed at his vitals.

"Everything is ready," continued the doctor of philosophy. "At 2 o'clock the uprising will start. But nothing must be done until the Great Panjandrum, himself gives the signal. Everything depends on that."

EORGE WASHINGTON, rose stealthily to his knees, and crept, backwards, to the bench he had first occupied. Once seated there, he yawned lackadaisically, attracting the momentary attention of the two conspirators. Then he strolled nonchalantly out of the park. Once on the street, he turned north and ran with all his speed to the Cottage Grove Avenue police station.

A florid-faced, desk sergeant, wearing with what dignity he could an aureole of flame-colored hair and a closely cropped mustache of the same color, stopped him in the midst of a breathless recital of the Great Panjandrum's plans.