balcony. Out from it extended a narrow bridge of planking to the rough scaffold that hung about the Red Bell.
Beneath the Dome the milk-white floor was no longer visible. They looked down upon a sea of heads. The people were packed so closely that had there come one of those swaying motions common to crowds many must inevitably have been trampled. Only at the northern side was a space cleared and roped off. In the center of this space was the eagle and dove symbol that hid the pit. At the far side a throne of carved and jeweled gold had been set on a high dais, draped with pale blue and yellow banners. Throne and dais were empty, but close about the roped-off space was drawn a cordon of uniformed police. Save for these who wore their regulation caps, not a head in the great hall was covered. Silent, patient, bareheaded, they stood-the despised 'Numbers,' packed too tightly for even the slight relief of motion, waiting.
Drayton wondered what it was about them that seemed so strange-so unearthly. Then it came to him. They were silent. Except for a faint rustling sound, like dry leaves in a breeze, the space beneath the golden dome was entirely silent. One could have closed one's eyes and fancied oneself alone.
Said Trenmore, 'Are they dumb, these people of yours?'
Low though he had spoken, his voice reverberated from the shallow Dome as from a sounding board. The dark sea of heads became flecked with white, as faces were turned toward the balcony. Leaning her gloved elbows on the golden rail, the Loveliest looked indifferently down.
'They are not permitted to speak within the sacred precincts. Most of them have stood these three hours past, and they have another two hours to wait. They are all so lazy that I don't imagine they mind. Anything, rather than to be at work!'
'Some of those women have babies in their arms,' observed Viola pityingly.
The Loveliest shrugged. 'Don't ask me why they are here. It's a foolish old custom, and I am glad to say this is the last of it. Mr. Justice Supreme has ordered that hereafter the competitions shall be held in private. We had best go around to the north side now. I'll find out if Mr. J. S. is ready to receive you. I persuaded Virty to arrange for a presentation. Mr. J. S. is just a trifle difficult in his old age, but he won't interfere.'
Interfere with what? Drayton wondered. Then the question slipped from his mind as his eye lighted on a curious thing at the back of the balcony.
It was a sword; a huge, unwieldy weapon, fully seven feet in length. The broad blade was of polished blue steel, inlaid to the hilt with gold. The grip, such of it as could be seen, was of gold studded with rough turquoise. Too large and heavy, surely, for human wielding, the sword was held upright in the grip of a great bronze hand, the wrist of which terminated in the wall at about the height of a man's chest from the floor.
'And what weapon is that?' inquired Trenmore.
'That? Oh, that is part of the Threat. You see the hand that holds it? That is the so-called 'Hand of Penn.' From the tower above, his hand is extended in blessing. Down here it grasps the sword. It is attached to a sort of mechanical arm, long enough to pass halfway across the Hall of Justice. The arm runs back through the wall there, between the ceiling of the corridor and the floor above. It is controlled by a mechanism to which only the Servants hold a key.'
'And what happens when the queer machine is used?' asked Trenmore. It seemed a useless invention, on the face of it.
'It isn't used,' she replied with an amused smile. 'If it ever were, the hand would drop so that the sword was level; then shoot out and the sword's point would strike the edge of that Red Bell and recoil. Of course, it couldn't strike now, because of the scaffolding. Mr. J. S. has an idea that the bell will look well with a ring of red electric lamps around it. They are wiring it for that.'
'The sword is a kind of elaborate gong-striking device then,' commented Drayton. He recalled Cleverest's description of the singular dread in which the Red Bell was held by the Numbers. 'What would happen if it were used?' he queried in turn.
'Oh, the city would go up in smoke, I suppose.' The woman laughed as she said it. Clearly she herself had no great faith in the probability of such a catastrophe.
'But how do your people imagine that a miracle of that sort could be brought about?' persisted Drayton.
'You do ask such questions! By a special dispensation of our Lord Penn, I suppose. Will you come with me, please? Under no circumstances must His Supremacy be kept waiting.'
They followed her, back into the red corridor, and thence through a long series of luxurious living apartments, smoking, lounging, and drawing-rooms, each furnished in a style compatible only with great wealth or the system of 'credit' peculiar to Penn Service. Crossing the old patrol entrance, they at last reached that part of the Temple which was held consecrate to the use of the highest Servant, Mr. Justice Supreme. While possessing several residences in various pleasant locations, he preferred, the lady informed them, to live almost entirely in the Temple. To the visitors, this 'Temple,' with its more or less resident 'Servants' bore a close resemblance to a clubhouse for luxury-loving millionaires.
They waited in an anteroom with their guide, who had given her card and a penciled message to one of the half-dozen uniformed page boys who lounged there. The lad returned with a verbal message to the effect that Mr. Justice Supreme begged to be excused.
At almost the same moment Cleverest emerged from the door leading to the inner sanctum. He came straight to them with a smile of welcome which made him look almost good humored. Close behind appeared the plethoric Mr. Virtue.
'I declare, Virty, it's too bad!' began Loveliest indignantly. 'You promised that you would arrange a presentation.'
Mr. Virtue, looking worried and more than a little annoyed, shook his head. 'I can't help it. I couldn't see him myself, Lovely. Clever's been with him all morning. Ask him what the trouble is!'
She turned a glance of sharp suspicion upon her fellow Superlative. 'Did you have anything to do with this, Clever? If you did-'
'To do with what?' inquired Cleverest blandly. 'His Supremity is somewhat indisposed, and is conserving his strength for the ceremonies. You have no cause for anxiety. I explained things to him myself. There will be no trouble. You really owe me a debt of gratitude, Lovely. The dear old gentleman has always been rather fond of the present Strongest. I had quite a little job persuading him that your candidate was in every way more deserving.'
She watched him with a puzzled frown. Then her brow cleared, her eyes opened wide with that dark distension of the pupils which was a trick of theirs.
'Why, Clever,' she beamed, 'I'm tremendously obliged to you. I never thought you really cared enough to do anything like that for me. Particularly now!'
He smiled, with a barefaced assumption of hurt tenderness which would have deceived none but the most vain and assured of women.
'You've never done me justice Lovely. Don't thank me until the competitions are over. When the job's done I shall feel more worthy! Come along to the Green Room. Nearly every one else is there.'
The 'Green Room' proved to be a long, wide chamber with windows on one side only, opening out upon the Hall of Justice. In the center of that side, level with the pavement, opened the northern door, which varied from the other two in being of the same scarlet hue as the Red Bell. The room itself was done entirely in green, a thick velvet carpet of that color covering the floor like moss, and the walls being decorated in a simulation of foliage. The place was well filled. By the law, it seemed, every Superlative physically able to be present must appear at the Civic Service Examinations, held once in four years. Most of them had brought members of their families.
All wore the green or red buttons of Superlativism, and all were dressed with a gayety which verged-in many cases more than verged-on distinct vulgarity. For some reason of etiquette none of the Servants' womenfolk were present. The three visitors were therefore unable to pass judgment on those greatest of great ladies. The gathering present, however, represented if not the cream, at least the top milk of twenty-second century society. Though it was morning, the only women present whose gowns were not almost painfully decollate were Viola Trenmore, Loveliest, and two or three very young girls. Colors shrieked at one another, or were gagged to silence by an overpowering display of jewelry. Some of the older and plainer ladies were quite masked in the enamel of their complexions.
The Loveliest took her proteges about the room, presenting them to the various officials and their wives. She seemed on the most familiar terms with the men, but the women, while they addressed her with formal respect, cast glances at her back tinged with anything but affection.
