s silent.

"Do you mean to tell me," he said at length, in a very deliberate voice,
"that the effect of the germ is to destroy ambition?"

"Worldly ambition, certainly," I replied. "But I believe that, in time,
ambitions of a subtler nature will reveal themselves in us, as
Immortals."

Jason smiled very broadly.

"Gentlemen," he said, "you are wonderful men. You have discovered
something that benefits humanity enormously. But take my advice--leave
your other theories alone. Stick to the facts--that your germ cures
sickness. Drop the talk about immortality and desire. It's too
fantastic, even for me. In the meantime I shall spread abroad the news
that the end of sickness is at hand, and that humanity is on the
threshold of a new era. For that I believe with all my heart."

"One moment," said Sarakoff. "If you believe that this germ does away
with disease, what is going to cause men to die?"

"Old age."

"But that is a disease itself."

"Wear and tear isn't a disease. That's what kills most of us."

"Yes, but wear and tear comes from desire, Mr. Jason," I said. "And the
germ knocks that out. So what is left, save immortality?"

When Jason left us, I could see that he was impressed by the possibility
of life being, at least, greatly prolonged. And this was the line he
took in his newspapers next day.

CHAPTER XXII

THE FIRST MURDERS

The effect of Jason's newspapers on public opinion was remarkable.
Humanity ever contains within it the need for mystery, and the strange
and incredible, if voiced by authority, stir it to its depths. The facts
about the healing of sickness and the cure of disease in Birmingham were
printed in heavy type and read by millions. Nothing was said about
immortality save what Sarakoff and I had stated at the Queen's Hall
meeting. But instinctively the multitude leaped to the conclusion that
if the end of disease was at hand, then the end of death--at least, the
postponement of death--was to be expected.

Jason, pale and masterful, visited us in the afternoon, and told us of
the spread of the tidings in England. "They've swallowed it," he
exclaimed; "it's stirred them as nothing else has done in the last
hundred years. I visited the East End to-day. The streets are full of
people. Crowds everywhere. It might lead to anything."

"Is the infection spreading swiftly?"

"It's spreading. But there are plenty of people, like myself, who
haven't got it yet. I should say that a q