“What!” I shouted.
Moore shook his head. “I saw the Emperor—twice. It was the Emperor you talked to, for the Chief has described him to me. But the man who died in the cylinder was not he. It was his body servant. The Emperor made up all that rigmarole about leaving the earth, or whatever it was. And he hypnotized his servant into going to his death for him, to put us off the track. I’ve seen the servant too, and I recognized him.”
“But then—where is he?”
Moore shook his head again. “Got away somehow. Nobody knows how. But he’s free. His gang is broken up for some time to come, but the man himself is still at large. The Chief is scouring the place for him, but so far without success. That’s why he looked grave to-night. And—I don’t blame him.”
“We’ve failed after all then.”
Moore smiled and nodded toward the room we had left. “Hardly that,” he said. “But—the man who calls himself Emperor has probably taken an unaccountable dislike to both of us. And—I wanted you to know. That’s all.”
“Thanks,” I told him simply. And with that Moore took his departure. He was leaving for Washington the next day.
There are just a few words to add.
Natalie and I were married the following spring. And in the autumn Margaret came to live with us, having spent her summer with old friends. Of course Larry, who had simply refused to listen to suggestions as to finding a better job for him, had been placed in practical command of our household as soon as Natalie and I settled down.