d it out, gulping it down. He looked about the room ... inside now.
He had shut himself in his citadel... and they were inside. The brandy
stayed his hand from shaking--but he knew that he had weakened. His mind
went back to the man he had "killed in business"--the straight, clear
voice sounding over the 'phone--he had not wanted to ruin him--them,
hundreds of them. It was the System--kill or be killed. He took his
chance and they took theirs--and they had gone down.

XVI

A CLUE GOES TO SLEEP

The morning was alive in the hospital. The sun glinted in. Pale faces,
lifted on their pillows, turned toward it; and Achilles, passing with
light step between the rows, smiled at them. Alcibiades was better. They
had told him, in the office, that he might talk to him to-day--a little
while--and his face glowed with the joy of it.

The boy hailed him, from far down the ward, his weak voice filled with
gladness, and Achilles hurried. He dropped into the chair beside him
and took the thin hand in his strong, dark one, holding it while he
talked--gentle words, full of the morning and of going home. The boy's
eyes brightened, watching his father's face.

"Pain--gone," he said, "--all gone." His hand lifted to his forehead.

Achilles bent forward and touched it lightly, brushing the hair across
it. "You are well now," he said gratefully.

The boy smiled, his dark eyes fixed absently on his thoughts. "They--bad
men!" he said abruptly.

Achilles leaned forward with anxious look, but the boy's eyes were
clear. "They run down," he said quietly, "--and go fast--like wind--I
try--I run. They shout and hit cart--and swear--and I lie on ground."
His lifted eyes seemed to be looking up at some great object passing
close above him... and a look of dread held them. He drew a quick
breath. "They bad men--" he said. "Little girl cry!"

Achilles bent forward, holding his breath. "What was it--Alcie?"

The boy's eyes turned toward him trustingly. "They hurt bad," he said.
"I try--I run--"

"And the little girl--?" suggested Achilles gently. His voice would not
have turned the breath of a dream; but Alcibiades wrinkled his forehead.

"She cry--" he said. "She look at me and cry--quick--They hurt that
little girl. Yes--she cry--" His eyes closed sleepily. The nurse came
forward.

"Better not talk any more," she said.

Achilles got to his feet. He bent over the boy, his heart beating fast.
"Good-bye, Alcie. To-morrow you tell me