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289
Astounding Stories of Super-Science, August 1930
·
Various
213
"We're
known,"
Bell
told
him--and
amazingly
found
it
possible
to
smile
faintly--"Ribiera
met
me
on
the
street
and
spoke
to
me
and
laughed
and
went
on."
Jamison
stared.
Bell's
manner
was
almost
entirely
normal
again.
Then
Jamison
shrugged.
"The
sense
of
what
you're
saying,"
he
observed
wryly,
"is
that
we're
licked.
Let
us,
then,
go
to
see
The
Master.
I
confess
I
feel
some
curiosity
to
know
just
what
he's
like."
Bell
was
smiling.
Being
in
an
entirely
abnormal
state,
he
had
a
curious
certitude
of
the
proper
course
to
adopt.
He
went
up
to
a
policeman
and
said
politely,
in
Spanish:
"I
am
desired
to
report
to
The
Master,
himself.
Will
you
direct
me?"
The
policeman
abased
himself
instantly
and
trotted
with
them
as
a
guide.
And
Bell
walked
naturally,
now,
with
his
head
up
and
his
shoulders
back,
and
smoked
leisurely
as
he
went,
and
the
policeman's
abasement
became
abject.
All
who
walked
with
that
air
of
amused
superiority
in
Punta
Arenas
were
high
in
the
service
of
The
Master.
Obviously,
the
two
men
in
these
dejected
clothes
must
also
be
high
in
the
service
of
The
Master,
and
had
adopted
their
disguise
for
purposes
into
which
a
mere
policeman
and
a
slave
of
The
Master
should
not
dare
enquire.
Jamison
was
rather
grim
and
still.
Jamison
thought
he
was
walking
to
his
death.
But
Bell
smiled
peculiarly
and
talked
almost
gaily
and--as
Jamison
thought--almost
irrationally.
They
came
to
a
house
set
in
a
fairly
spacious
lawn
behind
a
rather
high
wall.
There
were
greenhouses
behind
it,
and
there
were
flowers
growing
as
well
as
any
flowers
can
be
expected
to
grow
in
such
high
altitudes.
It
was
an
extraordinarily
cheerful
dwelling
to
be
found
in
Punta
Arenas,
but
the
shuddering
fear
with
which
the
little
policeman
removed
his
hat
as
he
entered
the
gateway
was
instructive.
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