_"You must kill Koski," the leader said. "But I'll be dead before I get there," Buckmaster replied. "What's that got to do with it?" the leader wanted to know._ The sense of taste was always first to go. For a week Buckmaster had ignored the fact that everything he ate tasted like flavorless gruel. He tried to make himself believe that it was some minor disorder of his glandular system. But the eighth day his second sense--that of feeling--left him and he staggered to his telephone in blind panic. There was no doubt now but that he had the dread Plague. He was glad he had taken the precaution of isolating himself from his family. He knew there was no hope for him now.…
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