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solve your problems as you used to do, putting your fingers in your ears."

A moment's pause. "He went away laughing," said Tecumseh. "He is a wild fellow. When he

ate soup it ran down his beard; and it was the same with icecream. You do not like such

manners; you are a quiet person, Zacharias—and yet I hear loud noises going on all around you. It

is very strange! What are you?"

VII

The old Greek made no reply, and the voice of the control sank to a murmur, as if he was

asking the spirits about this mystery. For quite a while Lanny couldn't make out a word, and

he took the occasion to perfect his notes. Once or twice he glanced at the munitions king, who

did not return the glance, but sat staring before him as if he were an image of stone.

"What is this noise I keep hearing?" burst out the Indian, sud denly. "And why are these

spirits in such an uproar? A rattling and banging, and many people yelling, as if they were

frightened. What is it that you do, Zacharias?"

Sir Basil did not speak.

"Why don't you answer me?"

"Cannot the spirits tell you?"

"It is easier when you answer my questions. Don't you like what these people are saying? It is

not my fault if they hate you. Did you cheat them? Or did you hurt them?"

"Some thought that I did."

"What I keep hearing is guns. That is it! Were you a soldier? Did you fight in battles?"

"I made munitions."

"Ah, that is it; and so many people died. That is why they are screaming at you. I have never

seen so many; never in the days when I commanded a tribe of the Six Nations, and the palefaces

came against us. They had better guns and more of them, and my people died, they died

screaming and cursing the invaders of our land. So men died screaming and cursing Zacharias

the Greek. Do you run and hide from them? They come crowding after you, as if it was the first

time they ever could get at you. They stretch out their hands trying to reach you. Do you feel

them touching you?"

"No," said Zaharoff. For the first time Lanny thought there was a trace of quavering in his

voice. Another quick glance revealed distinct drops of sweat on his forehead.

"It is like a battle going on—it gives me a headache, with all the smoke and noise. I see shells

bursting away off, and men are falling out of the sky. No, no, keep back, he can't hear you, and

there is no use yelling at me. Let somebody speak for you all. Any one of you. Come forward,

you man, you with the ragged flag. What is it you want to say? No, not you! I don't want to

talk to a man with the top of his head blown off. What sense can come out of only half a head?

Keep your bloody hands off me—I don't care who you are. What's that? Oh, I see. All right, tell

him. . . . I am the Unknown Soldier. I am the man they have buried by the Arc de Triomphe.

They keep the undying flame burning for me, and they come and lay wreaths on my tomb. You

came once and laid a wreath, did you not? Answer me!"

"I did." The munitions king's voice was hardly audible.

"I saw you. I see all who come to the tomb. I want to tell them to go away and stop the next

war. I want to tell them something else that will not please them. Do you know my name?"

"Nobody knows your name."

"My name is Mordecai Izak. I am a Jew. Their Unknown Soldier is a Jew, and that would

worry them very much. Are you a Jew?"

"I have been called that, but it is not so."

"I understand, brother. Many of us have had to do it."

There was a pause, and then Tecumseh was speaking. "They are all laughing. They tell me not

to mind if you do not speak the truth. You are a very important man, they say. They push

forward a little old woman. I cannot make out her name; it sounds like Haje —is that a woman's

name? She says that she is the mother of your son. Is that possible?"

"It might be."

"She says that your name was Sahar. You changed it in Russia. It was a place called Vilkomir, a

long, long time ago. She says your son is living; he is a very poor fellow. She says you have

grandchildren, but you do not wish to know it. Does that mean anything to you?"

"Possibly."

"The wounded men crowd her away. They do not let her talk. They are shouting again: 'There

is blood on your money! You have a great deal of money, and there is a curse upon it. You

murdered a man when you were young, but that is nothing, you have murdered all of us. We

are waiting for you in the spirit world. We are the avengers—we, the men without faces,

without bowels! Some day you will come to us—' "

The voice of Tecumseh had become shrill; and suddenly the aged Greek started to his feet.

Two steps brought him to Lanny's side, and he said: "Give me the book." The younger man,

taken aback, handed over his notebook; Zaharoff grabbed it and hastened, almost running, to the

door, and went out, slamming it behind him.

VIII

That was the end of the seance. Not another word was spoken, but the medium began to

moan pitiably. Lanny was prepared for trouble, because any sort of abrupt action always had a

bad effect on her; it was something about which he had warned Zaharoff. Now she was seized by