'The natural, useful things. Cooking, carpentry, weaving-all the necessary trades. What use would any more be to them? It would only make them dissatisfied, and goodness knows they are already dissatisfied and ungrateful enough!'
'Well,' sighed Trenmore, 'whoever has done these things to your people has certainly hit a new low in autocratic government.'
Half playfully, she shook her head at him.
'Big man,' she rebuked, 'I don't altogether understand you, but take care of your words. I like you too well to wish to see you die! Penn Service is sacred. Never speak against it, even when you believe yourself alone or in the safest company. It has a million eyes and a million ears, and they are everywhere. And now, let me take you back to the Belleclaire. After to-morrow I will see you more suitably lodged. To-night, however, you must put up as best you may with its inconvenience and bareness.'
Its 'inconvenience and bareness,' however, amounted to luxury in the eyes of these benighted wanderers from another age. They were very well content to have one more evening alone together. The Loveliest, it seemed, was attending an important social function to which, until they had actually claimed their laurels in the approaching competition, she could not take them.
'Nobody is anybody here,' she said, 'except the Servants themselves, the Superlatives and the family connections of each. There are only three or four hundred of us, all told, but we manage to keep the social ball rolling. I can promise you a gay winter. Now, don't attempt to go out on the streets.'
Trenmore frowned. He had a secret desire to visit a certain house on Walnut Street and of course he wouldn't find the place unchanged, and the dust still lying there on the library floor. But he wished to look, at least. 'Why not?' he inquired.
'Because I am responsible for your appearance at the contests to-morrow. Don't be offended. Should anything happen to you it would not only make me very unhappy, but might cause me serious trouble. The competitions are held in the Temple to-morrow at high noon. I'll call for you early and see to it that everything goes through just right. You've no idea what a pleasant future lies in store for you, big man!'
'Oh, haven't I, though?' muttered Trenmore as he stood with the others in the lobby and watched her retreating back. 'Madam Green-eyes, it's yourself has a pleasant surprise on its way to you, and I'm the sorry man to see trouble come to any woman, but it's yourself deserves it, I'm thinking-and anyway, I couldn't let my little sister Viola be made the slave you'd gladly see her, or I've misread the green eyes of you!'
'What's that you're saying, Terry?' queried Drayton.
'Just a benediction on the kind-hearted lady, Bobby. Bertram, where are you off to? Didn't you hear herself saying we are all to stop inside?'
'Aw, say, boss, I'm fair smothered. That doll would talk the hind wheel off a street car. It wasn't me she went bail for and I won't get into trouble.'
'See that you don't, then,' counseled Trenmore, and let him go.
CHAPTER 13: PENN SERVICE
THEIR day had been so fully occupied that none of the three had found time to seek that purveyor of plentiful information, the newspaper. Indeed, now that he thought of it, Drayton could not recall having seen any newsboy or news stands, and on consulting his friends they, too, denied any such memory. Yet that papers were still published in the city was certain. Mercy had carried one in the golden Court of Justice. Bertram had accounted for his knowledge of the date by reference to a 'borrowed' newspaper.
Drayton went to the house phone and made his request. Something seemed wrong with the wire. While he could perfectly hear the girl at the other end, that young lady appeared unable to catch his meaning. Suddenly she cut him off, and though he snapped the receiver hook impatiently, it produced no further response.
'Ring for a boy, Bobby,' suggested Trenmore. As he said it, however, there came a rapping at the door. Trenmore opened it and there stood a dignified gentleman who bowed courteously and stepped inside.
'I am the assistant manager,' he explained. 'There was some trouble over the phone just now. The management desires, of course, that guests of Penn Service shall receive every attention. What were you trying to make that stupid operator understand?'
'Nothing very difficult,' smiled Drayton. 'I asked for an evening paper.'
'I beg your pardon. A-what?'
'A paper-a newspaper,' retorted the lawyer impatiently. 'But, my dear sir! Surely you can't mean to make such an extraordinary request! Or-perhaps you have a special permit?'
A dazed silence ensued. 'Are you telling me,' burst forth Terence, 'that in this God-forsaken place you need a permit to read the news of the day?'
'Every one knows,' protested the manager placatingly, 'that only Servants or their families are permitted to read the newspaper issued for their benefit.'
Trenmore made a violent forward movement, and Drayton, after one glance at the giant's darkening countenance, hastily pushed the manager into the hall, assured him that their request was withdrawn and closed the door.
Not five minutes later, Cleverest was again announced. He followed the phone call so closely that Drayton had hardly hung up the receiver before he was at the door. He entered with a frown and a very pale face.
'See here,' he began without greeting or preamble, 'are you people trying to commit suicide? How can you expect protection if you persist in running foul of every law in the city?'
'Why the excitement?' queried Drayton coolly.
'The excitement, as you call it, is of your making. How dare you attempt to pry among the secret affairs of Penn Service?'
Drayton shook his head. 'Can't imagine what you mean. We've not been out of this suite since the Loveliest brought us back to the hotel.'
'That may be. But you were trying to bribe the manager to supply you with a copy of the Penn Bulletin!'
Enlightenment dawned in the minds of his three hearers.
'And is that all?' asked Trenmore scornfully. 'As for bribe, we never offered the lad a cent. Did he claim we tried to bribe him?'
'He hinted at it. He met me at the door, and by Jove, it was a good thing he did! He was on his way to report you at the Temple!'
'Is it a capital crime, then, to wish to read a paper?'
Still frowning, Cleverest sank into a chair.
'What you need is a little common or kindergarten instruction. A bit more and you'll have us all in the pit for conspiracy. To begin, then, are you aware that no one in this city, barring those born in Penn Service or the officials under their control, is allowed to read any literature more informing than a sign post, an instruction pamphlet or a telephone directory? The only books, the only papers, the only manuscripts in existence are circulated and confined strictly to the Temple and the Temple people. The Supreme Servant himself is the only man having access to the more important documents and books, although there is a lesser library open to officials who care for study.
'Furthermore, the City of Philadelphia having reached a state of perfection under the beneficent power of Penn, his Servants have made it their business to keep it so. Advance or retrogression would be alike objectionable. That is obvious and logical. Everything is most exquisitely standardized. To change so much as a syllable of the language, a style in garments, the architecture or interior arrangement of a building, is rightly regarded as a capital offense. No man, saving the Servants or their emissaries, is allowed to pass outside city limits. No stranger in my time or knowledge has ever crossed them from without. You yourselves are the sole exceptions.'
'But,' puzzled Drayton, 'how does Penn Service keep the city in subjection? We come from a place of far different customs and spirit, where innumerable armed troops would be required for such a business. You have only the usual police.'
The man laughed. 'There is a fear more restraining than the fear of bullets. Penn, the mighty All-Father, stands behind his Servants and justifies their acts.' The Superlative spoke reverently, but it was a threadbare reverence through which gleamed more than a hint of mockery. 'Do you recall,' he continued, 'that great Red Bell
