In this moment of exquisite torment, it was as if something broke inside John Endor's heart.
Even before the second slip was drawn from the bag, and the name it bore was made known, Endor realized, as if by the magic of an occult power, that in an especial manner Fate had marked him down. Before the impassive American opened this paper and announced its contents, the latest member of the Council saw and heard his own name:
JOHN ENDOR
When seconds later that name was pronounced, he
gave a little gasp. He felt the burning eyes of the
others envelop him. Overcome by emotion, he was
unable to meet those eyes and bent his own to the
table. A nausea of dismay bereft him of the power
to think or act. But all too soon there came to his
ear the calm and precise speech of Lien Weng.
"John Endor," said the President in a small soft voice, not unlike a cat's purr, that turned to ice the blood of the man whom he addressed, "you are called, within the term of eight days, reckoning from this Sunday midnight, to kill the man Saul Hartz by the method ordained in such cases by the Council of Seven. What that method is, it is now our duty to reveal."
