Why do you speak now after all these years when we are all set in our grooves?
It's silly to disturb us, Soolsby." The voice was low, persuasive, and searching; the mind was working as it had never worked before, to achieve an end by peaceful means, when war seemed against him.

And all the time he was fascinated by the fact that Soolsby's hand was within a few inches of a live electric wire, which, if he touched, would probably complete "the experiment" he had come to make; and what had been the silence of a generation would continue indefinitely.

It was as though Fate had deliberately tempted him and arranged the necessary conditions, for Soolsby's feet were in a little pool of liquid which had been spilled on the floor--the experiment was exact and real.
For minutes he had watched Soolsby's hand near the wire-had watched as he talked, and his talk was his argument for non-interference against warning the man who had come to destroy him and his career.

Why had Fate placed that hand so near the wire there, and provided the other perfect conditions for tragedy?
Why should he intervene?
It would never have crossed his mind to do Soolsby harm, yet here, as the man's arm was stretched out to strike him, Fate offered an escape.

Luke Claridge was stricken with paralysis, no doubt would die; Soolsby alone stood in his way.
"You see, Soolsby, it has gone on too long," he added, in a low, penetrating tone.