The Colossus looked at him mildly.
"That," he said, "is Amos Peabody!"
ilence lay like a live thing between them. Hilary whirled in a kaleidoscope of emotion. Was this wasted, tortured being the portly, dignified President of the United States who had bade him Godspeed at the start of his tremendous journey five years before? His pitying eyes searched the lineaments of the poor wretch. There was no doubt of it now; it was Amos Peabody.
Hilary gripped his informant's arm. His voice was deadly calm. "I want the truth about this, and I want it fast."
"The truth," echoed the big man with strange laughter; "now that is something—"
His eyes widened over Hilary's shoulder. With a swiftness remarkable in one of his bulk he shook off Hilary's restraining grip, caught him by the shoulder and thrust him, all in one motion, into a chair several removed from Peabody. In a trice his huge bulk was safely ensconced in the adjoining one.
Hilary's hand went to the butt of the automatic within his blouse. The giant saw the movement. He leaned forward.
"Don't make a move," he warned, "the guard is coming."