Tenant?"

"That they are creatures of the Enemy. Perhaps that one or the other
of them _is_ the Enemy."

Reader Rawson, lifting his cup to his lips, almost strangled. The
Hugheses, father and son, stared at Tenant Jones in horror.

"The Enemy--with such weapons and resources!" Murray Hughes gasped.
Then he emptied his cup and refilled it. "No! I can't believe that;
he'd have struck before this and wiped us all out!"

"Not necessarily, Murray," the Tenant replied. "Until he became
convinced that his agents, the Scowrers, could do nothing against us,
he would bide his time. He sits motionless, like a spider, at the
center of the web; he does little himself; his agents are numerous.
Or, perhaps, he wishes to recruit us into his hellish organization."

"It is a possibility," Reader Rawson admitted. "One which we can
neither accept nor reject safely. And we must learn the truth as soon
as possible. If this man is really He, we must not spurn Him on mere
suspicion. If he is a man, come to help us, we must accept his help;
if he is speaking the truth, the people who sent him could do wonders
for us, and the greatest wonder would be to make us, again, a part of
a civilized community. And if he is the Enemy--"

"If it is really He," Murray said, "I think we are on trial."

"What do you mean, son? Oh, I see. Of course, I don't believe he is,
but that's mere doubt, not negative certainty. But if I'm wrong, if
this man is truly He, we are being tested. He has come among us
incognito; if we are worthy of Him, we will penetrate His disguise."

"A very pretty problem, gentlemen," the Tenant said, smacking his lips
over his brandy. "For all that it may be a deadly serious one for us.
There is, of course, nothing that we can do tonight. But tomorrow, we
have promised to help our visitors, whoever they may be, in searching
for this crypt in the city. Murray, you were to be in charge of the
detail that was to accompany them. Carry on as arranged, and say
nothing of our suspicions, but advise your men to keep a sharp watch
on the strangers, that they may learn all they can from them.
Stamford, you and Verner and I will go along. We should, if we have
any wits at all, observe something."

* * * * *

"Listen to this infernal thing!" Altamont raged. "'_Wielding a
gold-plated spade handled with oak from an original rafter of the
Congressional Library, at three-fifteen one afternoon last week--_'
One