When the first news of the Act of Annihilation reaches the Independence Party’s Headquarters, Trueman is out on an important mission, a conference with the American Mothers’ League for the Abolition of Child Labor. This League, it is believed, can influence scores of thousands of voters.

A telephone call from Benson brings Trueman back to the headquarters. On the way down town he hears loud cries in the street.

“Get y’er Extra! All about the big murders!” the newsboys are calling in front of the headquarters. Trueman buys a paper. He reads about the murder in Central Park. “This is an unfortunate occurrence,” he says, half aloud. “The people will put more credence in the assertions of the Magnates, that there are anarchists working to disrupt the Government.”

Once in the rooms of the Campaign Committee he receives the messages direct from the Javelin office over a special wire.

He is as ignorant of the true condition of affairs as any of the public. What to think of the wholesale destruction of the leading magnates, is a riddle to him.

“WILKES-BARRE, PA., Octh.

Gorman Purdy was murdered in his house at 2 o’clock this afternoon, by Carl Metz. After shooting Purdy, Metz committed suicide. Come to Wilkes-Barre at once. Miners are threatening to sack the palaces on the esplanade. Ethel is in great danger. MARTHA.”

This telegram is handed to Trueman. He reads it; re-reads it. The full import flashes upon him. He knows the character of the miners; knows that there is an element which will take advantage of every opportunity to commit acts of violence. He pictures Ethel at her home, besieged by the mob of miners.

“I must get to Wilkes-Barre immediately,” he declares.

“Mr. Benson, will you telephone to the Inter-State Railroad and ask when the next train leaves for Wilkes-Barre? If there is not one within an hour, ask if it is possible to engage a special. I must reach Wilkes-Barre as quickly as possible.

“Here, read this,” and he hands his secretary the telegram.

“Send this message to Martha Densmore. Address it, ’Sister Martha, Care of the Mount Hope Seminary, Wilkes-Barre, Pa., I leave for Wilkes-Barre at once.’ If you can find out the time the train will leave, state it in the message to Martha.”

In five minutes Benson returns to inform Trueman that the Keystone Express will leave at 3.30 P.M. This gives Trueman thirty minutes to catch the train. He hurries to the street and jumps into a cab.

“Drive to the Twenty-third street ferry as fast as you can. I’ll give you an extra dollar if you make the four o’clock boat,” he tells the cab driver.

“All right Mr. Trueman,” replies the man, who recognizes the people’s candidate. “You’ll get the boat. Don’t worry about that.”

From Twenty-third street and Broadway the cab starts. It turns west on Twenty-fourth street. Then the driver whips up his horse. At Eleventh Avenue a freight train is passing. It will delay Trueman for five minutes. He jumps from the cab.

“Mr. Benson will pay you,” he calls to the cab-man. The train moves down the street at a slow rate of speed.

Trueman jumps on a car, climbs across it and jumps to the street. At a run he makes for the ferry house.

As he passes the gateman he throws down a silver piece for ferry fare and rushes toward the boat. Half a minute later the boat draws out of the slip. When he enters the train, Trueman seats himself in the smoking-car. The man next to him is reading a late extra which he has bought at Cortlandt street.

Glancing over the man’s shoulder, Trueman reads of the deaths of financiers, statesmen, manufacturers. All have met sudden and violent deaths, and in each instance there is announced the suicide or accidental death of an unknown companion.

Under a seven-column head, printed in red, is a suggestive paragraph. It asks if the wave of annihilation can have any connection with the Committee of Forty. And as if to answer the interrogation affirmatively, the paragraph concludes in these words:

“On the cards of six of the men whose bodies have been found with the murdered multi-millionaires, reference to the Committee of Forty is made point-blank. One asserts: ’In the future, arrogant capitalists will not sneer at the protestations of a committee of the people. As a deliberative body the Committee of Forty was impotent; as the avenger of the downtrodden, it will never be forgotten.’ Another bears this strange inscription: ’When anarchy seems imminent, take courage, for an honest leader will deliver you from harm.’

“There are two cards which quote direct from the Scriptures: ’The wicked in his pride doth persecute the poor: let them be taken in the devices that they have imagined.’ This gives the motive which supplied the assassin of the Sugar King with courage to commit a double crime. He was a religious fanatic. The name George M. Watson was scribbled on the back of the card. This is the name of one of the Committee of Forty.

“The other card reads: ’And the destruction of the transgressors and of the sinners shall be together, and they that forsake the Lord shall be consumed.’”

Here is a matter which sets Trueman thinking. He knows every member of the Committee of Forty; they are men who would not take part in a dastardly crime.

But is this terrible annihilation to be looked at in the light of an ordinary crime?

“Metz is a member of the committee.” Trueman resolves this thought for several minutes.

The train rolls on at a rapid rate; the towns of Jersey are entered and passed so quickly that no idea of the excitement that is stirring them can be formed. It is not until Trenton is reached that Trueman hears the news of the deaths of still other prominent men.

He buys a paper and returns to his seat. This extra contains the details of the threatened uprising in Wilkes-Barre, and the statement that the Committee of Forty has converted itself into a Syndicate of Annihilation.

When the train reaches Philadelphia a battalion of the State Militia goes on board. The Major in command has instructions to report to the Sheriff of Luzerne County. This means that the militia is to be handed over to the Magnates.

As the train is about to leave the depot a telegram is received at the dispatcher’s office, which causes a delay. A freight on the Wilkes-Barre division has jumped the track. The wrecking train is called for. After the departure of the wrecking train the express pulls out. The accident has occurred thirty miles east of Wilkes-Barre. It causes the Keystone to be two hours late.

During his enforced wait, Trueman improves the time by telegraphing to New York. He gets from Benson the latest details of the news; the full import of the terrible atonement dawns upon him. The Committee of Forty had come to the conclusion that it must meet force with force. This was a step which Trueman would never have sanctioned. He realizes that the opprobrium for the act of the committee will be placed on him. He has been associated with the committee; has been the one candidate which it indorsed. And for all that he has known absolutely nothing of its intention to carry out a wholesale annihilation.

“Who will believe that I am not an accomplice?” he asks himself.

“I have but one way to clear my name of such an imputation. I must stand out as the advocate for rational action. I must bring the people, those who know me and who will obey my wishes, to unite to suppress anarchy.”

As this thought shapes itself, the words on the card of one of the committee obtrude themselves on Trueman: “When anarchy seems imminent, take courage, for an honest leader will deliver you from harm.” Is there something prophetic in these words?

Reinforcements are arriving on trains that are obliged to stop in the rear of the express. One of the new arrivals is a part of the infamous Coal and Iron Police. As these men are familiar with the mining district, the Sheriff of Luzerne requests that they be placed on the Keystone and rushed through first. This request is complied with. When the train starts, after the track is cleared, the three hundred and fifty members of the Coal and Iron Police have exchanged places with the militia.

From the intemperate speech of the men, Trueman foresees that the conflict between the miners and the police will be sanguinary. He resolves to keep the two bodies of men apart, if anything in his power can effect this result.

As the twilight deepens the train reaches the ten-mile grade that leads to Wilkes-Barre. The powerful engine responds to the utmost of its capacity and begins the ascent at a speed of fifty miles an hour.

“We shall be doing business in fifteen minutes,” remarks one of the Coal and Iron Police, as he pulls his rifle from under the seat.

“Thank God, we don’t have to stand up and receive a shower of sticks and stones, as the militia did in the old days. We have the right on our side now, and we can shoot without waiting to be shot,” asserts a dyspeptic clerk, who has quit his desk for “a day’s shooting.”