ll the dirty, rotten things of life by direct contact."

All but murder--yet it had brushed close to him. Even now he could
evoke the choking rage that had engulfed him on that night of his
arrest when his defenseless cheek had reddened to the blow of
humiliation. This had been, however, a flash of passion. But once,
meeting a man who blocked his path in the first upper reaches of the
hills, beyond Fairview, he had felt the even more primitive itch of
self-preservation urging him to the ultimate crime. Would he end by
going a step farther and planning the destruction of life in cold
blood?

It was curious how constant association with a sensational idea dulled
the edge of its novelty. The first time he had heard deliberate and
passionless murder all but plotted in Storch's huddled room he had
felt a quick heartbeat of instinctive protest. Had he been stronger at
that moment he would have leaped to his feet in opposition. But the
moment passed and when he heard the subject broached again he listened
curiously. Finally he ceased to feel the slightest tremor of revolt.
Was indifference always the first step toward surrender?

Finally Fred grew strong enough to desert his couch at evening. Up to
this point he had been ignored by the nightly visitors, but now they
made a place for him in the circle about the sputtering lamp. It
seemed, also, that, with his active presence, the talk began to assume
general point and direction. Storch had been giving them plenty of
tether, but now he was beginning to pull up sharply, putting their
windy theories to the test. They were for clearing the ground, were
they? Well, so far so good. But generalities led nowhere. Why not
something specific? Wasn't the time ripe for action--thousands of men,
walking the streets, locked out because they dared to demand a decent
and even break? And this in the face of all the altruistic
rumble-bumble which war had evoked? He played this theme over and over
again, and finally one night with an almost casual air he said:

"Take the shipyards, for instance ... forty-odd thousand men locked
out while the owners lay plans to shackle them further. Now is the
chance. Quit talking and get busy!"

It ended in a list being made of the chief offenders--owners,
managers, irascible foremen. Fred Starratt listened like a man in a
dream. When Hilmer was named he found himself shivering. These people
were plotting murder now--cool, calm, passionless murder! There wa