"I am attending the execution," said Ronnie, "the under sheriff is admitting three press reporters, and I am to be one of them."
Steppe eyed him gloomily, groping after the mind of the man who could fear him, yet did not fear to see a man done to death.
"I'll tell you men all about Moropulos and Sault because you're all tarred with my brush. This is the big pull of Sault. A pull he's never used. Moropulos and I had business together. He was on one side of a wall called 'Law', huh? I was on the other. The comfortable side. And he used to hand things over. That put me a bit on his side. There were letters and certain other documents which we had to keep, yet were dangerous to keep. But you might always want 'em. I was scared over some shares that—well, I oughtn't have had them. And that's how Sault came to make the 'Destroying Angel', that's a good name! I christened it. There was a combination lock, the word being known only to Moropulos, Sault and myself. If you used the wrong combination—any combination but the right one, the acids are released and the contents of the safe destroyed. If you try to cut through the sides—the water runs out, down drops a plunger with the same result. When Moropulos was killed I tried to get at it, but the police were there before me. There was a typewritten note pasted on the top of the safe, telling exactly what would happen if they monkeyed with it. They haven't dared to touch it. It's in the Black Museum today with enough stuff inside to send me—well, a hell of a long way."
"Suppose this man tells?" asked Merville fearfully.
"He won't tell. That kind of man doesn't squeal. If it had been Ronald Morelle, I'd have been on my way to South America by now. A word from Sault and I'm—" he snapped his fingers, "but do you think it worries me? I can sleep and go about my work without a second's fear. That's the kind of man I am. No nerves—look at my hand." He thrust out his heavy paw stiffly. "Steady as a rock, huh? Good boy, Sault!"
"I met him once—" began Ronnie.
"I've met him more than once," said the grim Steppe. "A man with strange compelling eyes, the only fellow that ever frightened me!" He looked at Ronald curiously. "It is unbelievable that a white-livered devil like you can see him die. It would make me sick. And yet you, whose nerves ought to be rags considering the filthy life you live, can stand calmly by—ugh! I don't know how you can do it! To see a man's soul go out!"
Ronnie laughed quickly. "Sault's rather keen on his soul. Boyle, the governor, says he recited Henley's poem on his way to the cells."
But Steppe did not laugh. "Soul? H'm. He made me believe in something—soul or spirit or—something. He dominated me. Do you believe in the soul, Merville?"
"Yes, I do. A transient x that only abides in the body at the will of its host."