"Gus Martin wrote me a letter, enclosing a copy of a letter which he had sent to you."
"O heaven, be merciful. Let it not come to that!" said the agonizing Ensal, shocked that Gus had let another know of the matter that had so disturbed him.
"Your prayer is not directed to me, but I hear, understand, and will answer it. You do not wish the public to know of the contents of your letter. You would shield the good name of the girl. As I shall very shortly trust you with one of the gravest of secrets you will have a hostage which will of itself insure silence on my part. You and I, I am sure are the only two persons to whom Gus communicated the affair and between us we can take care of the secret."
Ensal stepped across the room and clasped the man's hand fervently and the two regarded themselves as mutually pledged to secrecy concerning that matter and whatever was now about to be canvassed.
"It is not necessary for you to know my name, nationality or anything that pertains to me. I am the incarnation of an idea. You may know me as Mr. A. Hostility," said the man.
"Is there any significance attached to your choice of an initial to represent your rather significant given name?" asked Ensal.
"Decidedly," said Mr. Hostility. "The A stands for Anglo-Saxon, the God-commissioned or self-appointed world conqueror. I am the incarnation of hostility to that race, or to that branch of the human family claiming the dominance of that strain of blood."
The man drew his seat up to the table and, motioning for Ensal to take a seat on the other side, said "Come near me, friend."
Ensal did as bidden and sitting thus close to the man noted the almost maniacal look of intensity in his eye.
Keeping his eyes steadily on Ensal's face, Mr. Hostility lifted his hand to his inside pocket and drew out a leathern case. Laying it on the table he crossed his hands upon it and said: