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289
Astounding Stories of Super-Science, August 1930
·
Various
208
"Nothing
like
it
is,"
said
Jamison.
"Every
living
creature,
man,
woman,
and
child,
has
been
fed
that
devilish
poison
of
his.
The
keepers
of
the
dives
go
fawning
to
the
local
officials
for
the
antidote.
The
jefe
politico
is
driven
in
his
carriage
to
be
cured
when
red
spots
form
before
his
eyes.
The
damned
place
is
full
of
suicides,
and
women,
and--oh,
my
God!
It's
horrible!"
A
humming,
buzzing
noise
set
up
off
in
the
night
somewhere.
It
kept
up
for
a
long
time,
throttled
down.
Suddenly
it
seemed
to
grow
louder,
changed
in
pitch,
and
dwindled
as
if
into
the
far,
far
distance.
"That's
one
of
The
Master's
planes
now,
no
doubt,"
said
Jamison
savagely,
"going
off
on
some
errand
for
him.
He
uses
this
place
practically
as
an
experiment
station.
The
human
beings
here
are
his
guinea
pigs.
The
deputies
get
a
standardized
form
of
the
stuff,
but
he's
got
it
worked
out
in
different
doses
so
he
can
make
a
man
go
mad
in
hours,
if
he
chooses,
instead
of
after
a
delay.
I
don't
know
how.
And
The
Master--"
He
checked
himself
sharply.
There
were
shuffling
footsteps
in
the
hall
outside.
A
timid
tap
on
the
door.
Jamison
opened
it,
while
Bell
dropped
one
hand
inconspicuously
to
a
weapon
inside
his
shapeless
clothing.
The
toothless
and
filthy
old
man
who
kept
the
hotel
beamed
in
at
them.
"Senores,"
he
cackled.
"Vdes
son
de
Porvenir,
no
es
verdad?"
Jamison
hiccoughed,
as
one
who
has
been
out
and
been
drunken
ought
to
do.
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