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Updated: June 18, 2025
My hands would close upon him. And I would see the blood sweat of his heart ooze under them." Hellbeam had finished. Peterman understood that. The passion had passed out of his eyes and the veins of his forehead were no longer distended. He remained gazing at the window. For some moments the younger man made no attempt to intrude further. He had little desire to, anyway.
He nodded his head at the narrow back that remained turned on him. "Well, since then," Standing went on, "seven years have passed. Circumstances have forced modifications on my plans. Hellbeam is the circumstance. You say we are the gophers hunting our holes. Maybe you're right. Anyway Hellbeam's shadow is haunting me.
And it left her so troubled, that, had she not been passing down the carpeted corridor of the Skandinavia offices, she would have burst into a flood of tears. It was a different Elas Peterman who confronted the squat figure of Nathaniel Hellbeam. The master in the younger man was completely submerged.
And the prisoner who had visions of hanging, or at best, a long term of imprisonment, snatched at the helping hand held out. And Leslie Standing had brought him in safety straight to Farewell Cove, where together, with the vast capital which the former had wrung from the Swedish financier, Nathaniel Hellbeam, they had undertaken the creation of the great mill of Sachigo.
"You think you've won when you've only gained a moment's respite. You can't win. You don't know. Oh, yes. I guess you can send me along out of the way. You can do just all you reckon. And if it suits you, you can shoot me up or any other old thing. You forget Hellbeam. You tell me I'm a crook and a blackmailer, you give me credit for nerve and courage. That's all right.
Just as sure as God, Hellbeam's going to get me." The sweat of terror stood on the man's high forehead, and he wiped it away. Bat flung a clenched fist down upon the tree stump. "You're wrong, Les. You're plumb wrong. If it means murder I swear before God Hellbeam'll never lay hands on you. Hellbeam? Gee!
The agent passed into the great man's presence, slim, dark, confident. Then the door closed without a sound. "Well?" There was no cordiality in the greeting. That was not Hellbeam's way with a paid agent. Idepski walked across to the chair always waiting to receive a visitor and sat down. "May I sit?" he inquired coolly, after the operation had been performed. Hellbeam nodded.
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