"Beg pardon for interrupting the sacred panjandrum," said the former, "but Stevens and Vanderschoof are indulging in a sulk. They don't want to play with us."

"Oh, hell," remarked Ben cheerfully and started for the door, the other two following him.

He found the recalcitrants soon enough. The Wall Street man was seated across a doctor's desk from Vanderschoof and looked up calmly from an interrupted conversation as Ben entered.

"Thought I asked you two to go with the boys for some coal," said Ben, waving at them. "My mistake. I meant to."

"You did. I'm not going."

Ben's eyes narrowed. "Why not?"

"This is the United States of America, young man. I don't recognize that I am under your orders or anyone else's. If you think you are going to get us to accept any such Mussolini dictatorship, you've got another guess coming. As I was saying—" he turned back to Vanderschoof with elaborate unconcern, and Murray took a step toward him, bristling angrily.

"Leave me alone, boys, I can handle this," said Ben, waving the other two back. "Mr. Stevens." The broker looked up with insolent politeness. "This is not the United States, but the colony of New York. Conditions have changed and the sooner you recognize that the better for all of us. We are trying to rebuild civilization from the ruins; if you don't share in the work, you shall not share in the benefits."

"And what are you going to do about it?"

"Put you out."

There was a quick flash, and Ben was staring into the business end of a Luger automatic, gripped tightly in the broker's hand. "Oh, no you won't. You forget that you made this anarchy yourself when you refused to have a president. Now get out of here, quick, and let me talk with my friend."

For a moment the air was heavy with tension. Then Vanderschoof smiled—a superior smile. Stevens' eyes blinked, and in that blink Ben charged, and as he moved, Murray and Tholfsen followed. There was a report like a clap of thunder in the narrow room, a tremendous ringing clang as the bullet struck the metal plate of Ben's shoulder and caromed to the ceiling, whirling him around against the desk and to the floor by the force of the impact. Murray leaped across his prostrate body, striking at the gun and knocking it down just in time to send the second shot wild; Tholfsen stumbled and 

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