Barely had I left that chamber of death, when—­but too late—­the following extraordinary letter was received: 

Office of the M. of M., February 17, 1900.

Mr. Eben Hale, Money Baron: 

Dear Sir,—­You will pardon our intrusion, we hope, so closely upon the sad event of day before yesterday; but what we wish to say may be of the utmost importance to you.  It is in our mind that you may attempt to escape us.  There is but one way, apparently, as you have ere this doubtless discovered.  But we wish to inform you that even this one way is barred.  You may die, but you die failing and acknowledging your failure.  Note this:  We are part and Parcel of your possessions.  With your millions we pass down to your heirs and assigns forever.

We are the inevitable.  We are the culmination of industrial and social wrong.  We turn upon the society that has created us.  We are the successful failures of the age, the scourges of a degraded civilization.

We are the creatures of a perverse social selection.  We meet force with force.  Only the strong shall endure.  We believe in the survival of the fittest.  You have crushed your wage slaves into the dirt and you have survived.  The captains of war, at your command, have shot down like dogs your employees in a score of bloody strikes.  By such means you have endured.  We do not grumble at the result, for we acknowledge and have our being in the same natural law.  And now the question has arisen:  Under the present social environment, which of us shall survive?  We believe we are the fittest.  You believe you are the fittest.  We leave the eventuality to time and law.

Cordially yours,

The minions of Midas.

John, do you wonder now that I shunned pleasure and avoided friends?  But why explain?  Surely this narrative will make everything clear.  Three weeks ago Adelaide Laidlaw died.  Since then I have waited in hope and fear.  Yesterday the will was probated and made public.  Today I was notified that a woman of the middle class would be killed in Golden Gate Park, in faraway San Francisco.  The despatches in to-night’s papers give the details of the brutal happening—­details which correspond with those furnished me in advance.

It is useless.  I cannot struggle against the inevitable.  I have been faithful to Mr. Hale and have worked hard.  Why my faithfulness should have been thus rewarded I cannot understand.  Yet I cannot be false to my trust, nor break my word by compromising.  Still, I have resolved that no more deaths shall be upon my head.  I have willed the many millions I lately received to their rightful owners.  Let the stalwart sons of Eben Hale work