u're honest. Feeling better already. How much do I owe you?»He arose.«Now we go kill the monsters instead of you.»«Monsters?»«At my office. If we can get in past the lunatics.»«You have lunatics outside as well as in, now?»«Have I ever lied to you?»«Often. But,» I added, «little white ones.»«Come,» he said.We got out of the elevator to be confronted by a long line of worshippers and supplicants. Theremust have been seventy people strung out between the elevator and the Baron's door, waiting with copies of books by Madame Blavatsky, Krishna murti, and Shirley MacLaine under their arms. There was a roar like a suddenly opened furnace door when they saw the Baron. We beat it on the double and got inside his office before anyone could surge to follow.«See what you have done to me!» Von Seyfertitz pointed.The office walls were covered with expensive teak paneling. The desk was from Napoleon's age an exquisite Empire piece worth at least fifty thousand dollars. The couch was the best soft leather I had ever seen, and the two pictures on the wall were originals-a Renoir and a Monet. My God, millions! I thought.«Okay,» I said. «The beasts, you said. You'll kill them, not me?»The old man wiped his eyes with the back of one hand, then made a fist.«Yes!» he cried, stepping up to the fine periscope, which reflected his face, madly distorted, in its elongated shape. «Like this. Thus and so!»And before I could prevent, he gave the brass machine a terrific slap with his hand and then a blow and another blow and another, with both fists, cursing. Then he grabbed the periscope as if it were the neck of a spoiled child and throttled and shook it.I cannot say what I heard in that instant. Perhaps real sounds, perhaps imagined temblors, lik
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