The Council of Seven

by J. C. Snaith

Lien Weng shook his head gently. There was a brief pause. And then with the peculiar amenity of a deep mind at grips with destiny itself, he went on as if nothing had occurred, to expound the position the Society had now reached in the matter of Saul Hartz and the Universal Press.

XLIII

ENDOR, from the first, had felt that he would not be able to get free. And now, his protest made, his own position fully disclosed, he saw that for the time being, at any rate, there was nothing more that he could do.

In the moments that immediately followed, a mind cruelly torn became a house divided against itself. One part of his brain, wherein lurked the eternal verities, assured him that this illicit assembly, this Council of Seven, was no place for John Endor. And yet in another part of his ethos, an influence, alien, but of extreme potency, was also at work. The cold logic of the matter was that on the issue that had been raised Lien Weng and his associates were perfectly right. In a matter of this kind, no man could be permitted to forswear allegiance. That was only just and fair. And it was reasonable that one who did so must pay a full penalty. The question of questions now for John Endor, or at least for the political part of a mind-at-war, was how, when, in what fashion must the penalty be paid?

If, following at once upon his protest he withdrew from the deliberations of the Council, he put himself irrevocably out of court. On the other hand, if he stayed where he was and bore a part in its transactions, he would be committed by implication to any act upon which it might decide. The problem for a man faced with such a far-reaching issue was almost insoluble, but, after a moment of intense emotion, some deep instinct of policy called upon him to remain.

The hour which followed in the beautiful but smoke-laden Busshe Court dining room had an entrancing interest for John Endor. Nothing could have been more severely business-like than the methods of the Council of Seven. In a few words, chosen with much skill, Lien Weng made everything quite clear.

Saul Hartz had ignored the recommendations of the Society of the Friends of Peace and the period of grace had now expired. And, in accordance with the rules, by which all present were under a solemn pact to abide, this man, a direct menace to the peace of the world, must die.

The Seven differed in one instance from the body which had adjudicated recently in the matter of William Garland, the notorious Labor Leader, who had chosen also to defy the Society. D’Alvarez, better known as El Santo, upon whom had devolved the task of doing Garland to death, had carried it out successfully. He had therefore been granted from these deliberations the release, which by the laws of the Society, he was entitled to claim. In his stead appeared the Society’s most recent and not least important recruit, John Endor.

So much, in a brief summary, Lien Weng made clear. It now remained for the seven men sitting round the table to devise a means of doing Saul Hartz to death. In such cases the practice was, under a veil of strict secrecy to draw lots as to who must bear this terrible burden.

The procedure was for each member of the Council to write his name on a slip of paper, fold it up and place it in a small black velvet bag. After this receptacle had been shaken by all in turn, the last comer to the deliberations of the Council was allowed to draw one name from the bag. It was then shaken again by the six members whose names remained, and then the person whose name had been drawn was required to take from the bag a second slip of paper. Upon this was to be found the name of him who in accordance with the Society’s rules must do its will.