Well, he had the power now to carry a little weight—thanks to the murdered man. Standing there in the cellar, the General made a vow to see that during his lifetime the peace was kept, to help set up some sort of organization that would keep the peace when he was gone.
"Will it be okay for me to take this?" Toby had picked up the final figure and was regarding it reverently.
"What? Oh, I don't see why not."
He said goodby to the boy outside and got into his car for the drive back to the airfield. Hence, he didn't see Toby carry the unpainted figure the hundred yards to his house, didn't see Toby place it carefully at the end of a row of gay little figures that included Napoleon, Marlborough, Suleiman the Great, Charles XII of Sweden, Henry V, Tamerlaine, Genghis Khan, Charles Martel, Julius Caesar—and newer or perhaps older, figurines of Alexander the Great, Xerxes, Cyrus the Great, Nebuchadnezzar and a trio of even more primitive conquerors.
"Gee," said Toby to himself, "I'm sorry Uncle Angus had to be killed. But if he had to be killed, I'm glad he got my historical set just about finished. I can paint this cave-man myself."
A few minutes later his mother called him to supper.