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Illustrator: James Montgomery Flagg
THE VANISHING POINT
"The Garden Without Walls," etc.
New York
"When you gaze up a railroad track," said Varensky, "there's always a point in the infinite distance where, just before they vanish, the parallel rails seem, to join. If a train were ever to reach that point it would mean death.
"Life's like that--a track along which we travel on the parallel rails of possibility and desire. The lure of the idealist is to overtake the illusion, where possibility and desire seem to merge, and the safety of the journey ends."
THE VANISHING POINT
PRINCE ROGOVICH! Prince Rogovich!"
Staring up at the clammy wall of the liner, blanched by searchlights, against which the little tug bumped and jostled, Philip Hindwood could hear the Prince's name being shouted in staterooms, along decks and passageways.
"Prince Rogovich! Prince Rogovich!"
The cries were becoming more insistent and impatient. They broke on the stillness with the monotony of despair. To judge by the sound, every soul aboard the liner had taken up the search, from the firemen in the stoke-hole to the Marconi men on the top deck. Even the thud of the engines seemed ominous, like the pounding of a heart stifled with foreboding. Across the velvety expanse of water, as though they had a secret they were trying to communicate, shore lights winked and twinkled. They seemed to be signaling the information that, no matter how long the search was maintained, Prince Rogovich would not be found that night.
He had gone aboard her in an unsociable frame of mind, determined to talk to nobody; the success of his errand depended on his silence. He believed that he was half a year ahead of the times. When his rivals had caught up to where he was at present, he would have made himself a world power and dictator.
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