taint of will. Less than half a good cigar was needed to convince him that flight would serve no purpose. Besides, what direct evidence was there? And even if the case was as he feared, soon or late the music would have to be faced. Such an organization, in the light of evidence his own private agents had laboriously collected during the past two years, was too powerful for one of its chosen victims to thwart it by running away and hiding his head in sand.
At the back of everything, moreover, and in the last resort was the élan vital of the born fighter. Saul Hartz loved danger for its own sake. War, in the inmost fiber of his nature, was the sweetest of all mistresses. He was the last man in the world to yield to a mere threat.
Let this Vehmgericht do its worst!
