"No."
"Oh, you won't."
"I shan't tell you, McClaren; I'll show you. And may God have mercy on
your filthy soul."
There were six men in the room. Hugo looked from one to another. He
could tolerate nothing more; he had followed the course of President
Mills's social theory far enough to be surfeited with it. There was
decision in his attitude, and not one of the six men who had worked his
torment in relays could have failed to feel the chill of that decision.
They stood still. McClaren's voice rang out: "Cover him, boys."
Hugo stretched. His bonds burst; the chair on which he sat splintered to
kindling. Six revolvers spat simultaneously. Hugo felt the sting of the
bullets. Six chambers were emptied. The room eddied smoke. There was a
harsh silence.
"Now," Hugo said gently, "I will demonstrate how I opened that safe."
"Christ save us," one of the men whispered, crossing himself.
McClaren was frozen still. Hugo walked to the wall of the jail and
stabbed his fist through it. Brick and mortar burst out on the other
side and fell into the cinder yard. Hugo kicked and lashed with his
fists. A large hole opened. Then he turned to the men. They broke toward
the door, but he caught them one by one--and one by one he knocked them
unconscious. That much was for his own soul. Only McClaren was left. He
carried McClaren to the hole and dropped him into the yard. He wrenched
open the iron gate and walked out on the street, holding the policeman
by the arm. McClaren fainted twice and Hugo had to keep him upright by
clinging to his collar. It was dark. He hailed a cab and lifted the man
in.
"Just drive out of town," Hugo said.
McClaren came to. They bumped along for miles and he did not dare to
speak. The apartment buildings thinned. Street lights disappeared. They
traversed a stretch of woodland and then rumbled through a small town.
"Who are you?" McClaren said.
"I'm just a man, McClaren--a man who is going to teach you a lesson."
The taxi was on a smooth turnpike. It made swift time. Twice Hugo
satisfied the driver that the direction was all right. At last, on a
deserted stretch, Hugo called to the driver to stop. McClaren thought
that he was going to die. He did not plead. Hugo still held him by the
arm and helped him from the cab.
"Got any money on you?" Hugo asked.
"About twenty dollars."
"Give me five."
With trembling fingers McClaren produced the bill. He put the remainder
of his money back in his pocket automatically. The taxi-driver was
watching, but Hugo ignored him.
"McClaren," he said soberly, "here's your lesson. I just happen to be
the strongest man in the world. Never tell anybody that. And don't tell
anyone where I took you to-night--wherever it is. I shan't be here
anyway. If you tell either of those two things, I'll eat you. Actually.
There was a poor devil smothering in that safe and I yanked it open and
dragged him out. As a reward you and your dirty scavengers were put to
work on me. If I weren't as merciful as God Himself, you'd all be dead.
Now, that's your lesson. Keep your mouth shut. Here is the final
parable."
Still holding the policeman's arm, he walked to the taxi and, to the
astonishment of the driver, gripped the axle in one hand, lifted up the
front end like a derrick, and turned the entire car around. He put
McClaren in the back seat.
"Don't forget, McClaren." To the driver: "Back to where you picked us
up. The bird in the back seat will be glad to pay."
The red lamp of the cab vanished. Hugo turned in the other direction and
began to run in great leaps. He slowed when he came to a town. A light
was burning in an all-night restaurant. Hugo produced the five-dollar
bill.
"Give me a bucket of water--and put on about five steaks. Five."