conversation with each other.
Again she felt that soft urgent touch on her arm.
'You will follow me please, Madame.'
He moved a few steps and stood, looking back, beckoning to her. A little doubtfully Hilary followed him.
She noticed that this particular man was far more richly dressed than most of the native servants. His robes were embroidered heavily with gold thread.
He led her through a small door in a corner of the communal living room, then once more along the inevitable anonymous white corridors. She did not think it was the same way by which they had come to the Emergency Wing, but it was always difficult to be sure because of the similarity of the passages. Once she turned to ask a question but the guide shook his head impatiently and hurried on.
He stopped finally at the end of a corridor and pressed a button in the wall. A panel slid back disclosing a small lift. He gestured her in, followed her, and the lift shot upwards.
Hilary said sharply:
'Where are you taking me?'
The dark eyes held hers in a kind of dignified reproof.
'To the Master, Madame. It is for you a great honor.'
'To the Director, you mean?'
'To the Master…'
The lift stopped. He slid back the doors and motioned her out. Then they walked down another corridor and arrived at a door. Her guide rapped on the door and it was opened from inside. Here again were white robes, gold embroidery and a black, impassive face.
The man took Hilary across the small red-carpeted anteroom and drew aside some hangings at the further side. Hilary passed through. She found herself, unexpectedly, in an almost oriental interior. There were low couches, coffee tables, one or two beautiful rugs hanging on the walls. Sitting on a low divan was a figure at whom she stared with complete incredulity. Small, yellow, wrinkled, old, she stared unbelievingly into the smiling eyes of Mr. Aristides.
Chapter 18
'Asseyez vous, chere Madame,' said Mr. Aristides.
He waved a small clawlike hand, and Hilary came forward in a dream and sat down upon another low divan opposite him. He gave a gentle little cackle of laughter.
'You are surprised,' he said. 'It is not what you expected, eh?'
'No, indeed,' said Hilary. 'I never thought – I never imagined -'
But already her surprise was subsiding.
With her recognition of Mr. Aristides, the dream world of unreality in which she had been living for the past weeks shattered and broke. She knew now that the Unit had seemed unreal to her – because it was unreal. It had never been what it pretended to be. The Herr Director with his spellbinder's voice had been unreal too – a mere figurehead of fiction set up to obscure the truth. The truth was here in this secret oriental room. A little old man sitting there and laughing quietly. With Mr. Aristides in the centre of the picture, everything made sense – hard, practical everyday sense.
'I see now,' said Hilary. 'This – is all yours isn't it?'
'Yes, Madame.'
'And the Director? The so-called Director?'
'He is very good,' said Mr. Aristides appreciatively. 'I pay him a very high salary. He used to run Revivalist meetings.'
He smoked thoughtfully for a moment or two. Hilary did not speak.
'There is Turkish Delight beside you, Madame. And other sweetmeats if you prefer them.' Again there was silence. Then he went on, 'I am a philanthropist, Madame. As you know, I am rich. One of the richest men – possibly the richest man in the world today. With my wealth I feel under the obligation to serve humanity. I have established here, in this remote spot, a colony of lepers and a vast assembly of research into the problem of the cure of leprosy. Certain types of leprosy are curable. Others, so far, have proved incurable. But all the time we are working and obtaining good results. Leprosy is not really such an easily communicated disease. It is not half so infectious or so contagious as smallpox or typhus or plague or any of these other things. And yet, if you say to people, 'a leper colony' they will shudder and give it a wide berth. It is an old, old fear that. A fear that you can find in the Bible, and which has existed all down through the years. The horror of the leper. It has been useful to me in establishing this place.'
'You established it for that reason?'
'Yes. We have here also a Cancer Research department, and important work is being done on tuberculosis. There is virus research, also – for curative reasons, bien entendu – biological warfare is not mentioned. All humane, all acceptable, all rebounding greatly to my honour. Well-known physicians, surgeons and research chemists come here to see our results from time to time as they have come today. The building has been cunningly constructed in such a way that a part of it is shut off and unapparent even from the air. The more secret laboratories have been tunnelled right into the rock. In any case, I am above suspicion.' He smiled and added simply: 'I am so very rich, you see.'
'But why?' demanded Hilary. 'Why this urge for destruction?'
'I have no urge for destruction, Madame. You wrong me.'
'But then – I simply don't understand.'
'I am a business man,' said Mr. Aristides simply. 'I am also a collector. When wealth becomes oppressive, that is the only thing to do. I have collected many things in my time. Pictures – I have the finest art collection in Europe. Certain kinds of ceramics. Philately – my stamp collection is famous. When a collection is fully representative, one goes on to the next thing. I am an old man, Madame, and there was not very much more for me to collect. So I came at last to collecting brains.'
'Brains?' Hilary queried.
He nodded gently.
'Yes, it is the most interesting thing to collect of all. Little by little, Madame, I am assembling here all the brains of the world. The young men, those are the ones I am bringing here. Young men of promise, young men of achievement. One day the tired nations of the world will wake up and realise that their scientists are old and stale, and that the young brains of the world – the doctors, the research chemists, the physicists, the surgeons, are all here in my keeping. And if they want a scientist, or a plastic surgeon, or a biologist, they will have to come and buy him from me!'
'You mean…' Hilary leaned forward, staring at him. 'You mean that this is all a gigantic financial operation?'
Again Mr. Aristides nodded gently.
'Yes,' he said. 'Naturally. Otherwise – it would not make sense, would it?'
Hilary gave a deep sigh.
'No,' she said. 'That's just what I've felt.'
'After all, you see,' said Mr. Aristides almost apologetically, 'it is my profession. I am a financier.'
'And you mean there is no political side to this at all? You don't want World Power -?'
He threw up his hand in rebuke.
'I do not want to be God,' he said. 'I am a religious man. That is the occupational disease of Dictators: wanting to be God. So far I have not contracted that disease.' He reflected a moment and said: 'It may come. Yes, it may come… But as yet, mercifully – no.'
'But how do you get all these people to come here?'
'I buy them, Madame. In the open market. Like any other merchandise. Sometimes I buy them with money. More often, I buy them with ideas. Young men are dreamers. They have ideals. They have beliefs. Sometimes I buy
