Part 18 (1/2)

”How do you know?”

”I know everything, my friend. You met him about an hour ago. You had a long talk with him. You have baited your hook, and thrown it. Before you could tell whether the fish would rise, you thought it better to wait. You decided to make further preparations.”

”Romanoff, I believe you are the devil.”

”Many a true word is spoken in jest, my friend. But, devil or not, am I not right?”

”You have seen him? He has told you?”

”He has told me nothing. Yes, he has, though. He has told me he had ambitions to be a Labour Member of Parliament.”

”But nothing more?”

”Nothing more. I was pa.s.sing along the street and spoke to him.”

The two were looking at each other eagerly, questioningly. Mr. John Brown's face had become flabby; the flesh around his eyes was baggy. The eyes had a furtive look, as though he stood in awe of his companion. Romanoff, too, in spite of his claim to omniscience, might be a little anxious.

”The fellow's career is a miracle,” remarked Mr. John Brown at length. ”A millionaire one day, a pauper the next. And then to settle down as a toiler among toilers--to become the popular hero, the socialist leader, the rebel, the seer of visions, the daring reformer! A miracle, I say! But with proper guidance, he is the man we need. He can do much!”

Count Romanoff laughed like one amused.

”Germany is in a bad way, eh? Poor Wilhelm, what a fool! Oh, what a fool!”

”Be quiet!” cried the other hoa.r.s.ely. ”Even here the walls may have ears, and if it were suspected that----”

”Exactly, my friend,” sneered the Count. ”But tell me how you stand.”

For some time they talked quietly, earnestly, the Count asking questions and raising objections, while Mr. John Brown explained what he had in his mind.

”Germany is never beaten,” he said--”never. When arms fail, brains come in. Russia has become what Russia is, not by force of arms, but by brains. Whose? And Germany will triumph. This fellow is only one of many who are being used. A network of agencies are constantly at work.”

”And to-night you are going to introduce him to Olga?” and the Count laughed.

”The most fascinating woman in Europe, my friend. Yes; to-night I am going to open his eyes. To-night he will fall in love. To-night will be the beginning of the end of Britain's greatness!”

CHAPTER XXI.

THE MIDNIGHT MEETING.

d.i.c.k Faversham stood at the entrance of the underground station at Blackfriars Bridge. It was now five minutes before eleven, and the traffic along the Embankment was beginning to thin. New Bridge Street was almost deserted, for the tide of theatre-goers did not go that way. d.i.c.k was keenly on the look out for Mr. John Brown, and wondered what kind of a place he was going to visit that night.

He felt a slight touch upon his shoulder, and, turning, he saw Mr. Brown go to the ticket office.

”Third single for Mark Lane,” he said, carelessly throwing down two coppers, yet so clearly that d.i.c.k could not help hearing him.

Without hesitation d.i.c.k also went to the office and booked for the same place. Mr. Brown took no apparent notice of him, and when the train came in squeezed himself into a third-cla.s.s compartment. Having secured a seat, he lit a cheap black cigar.

d.i.c.k noticed that he wore a somewhat shabby over-coat and a hat to match. Apparently Mr. Brown had not a thought in his mind beyond that of smoking his cigar and reading a soiled copy of an evening paper.

Arrived at Mark Lane, Mr. Brown alighted and, still without taking notice of d.i.c.k, found his way to the street. For some time he walked eastward, and then, having reached a dark alley, turned suddenly and waited for d.i.c.k to come up.

”Keep me in sight for the next half-mile,” he said quickly. ”When I stop next, you will come close to me, and I will give you necessary instructions.”

They were now in a part of London which was wholly strange to the young man. There were only few pa.s.sers-by. It was now nearly midnight, and that part of London was going to sleep. Now and then a belated traveller shuffled furtively along as though anxious not to be seen. They were in a neighbourhood where dark things happen.

Evidently Mr. John Brown knew his way well. He threaded narrow streets and dark alleys without the slightest hesitation; neither did he seem to have any apprehension of danger. When stragglers stopped and gave him suspicious glances, he went straight on, unheeding.

d.i.c.k on the other hand, was far from happy. He did not like his midnight journey; he did not like the grim, forbidding neighbourhood through which they were pa.s.sing. He reflected that he was utterly ignorant where he was, and, but for a hazy idea that he was somewhere near the river, would not know which way to turn if by any chance he missed his guide.

Presently, however, Mr. Brown stopped and gave a hasty look around. Everywhere were dark, forbidding-looking buildings which looked like warehouses. Not a ray of light was to be seen anywhere. Even although vast hordes of people were all around the spot where he stood, the very genius of loneliness reigned.

He beckoned d.i.c.k to him, and spoke in low tones.

”Be surprised at nothing you see or hear,” he advised in a whisper. ”There is no danger for either you or me. This is London, eh? And yet those who love England, and are thinking and working for her welfare, are obliged to meet in secret.”

”Still, I'd like to know where we are going,” protested d.i.c.k. ”I don't like this.”

”Wait, my young friend. Wait just five minutes. Now, follow me in silence.”

Had not the spirit of adventure been strong upon the young fellow, he would have refused. There was something sinister in the adventure. He could not at all reconcile Mr. John Brown's members.h.i.+p of the club he had visited that afternoon with this Egyptian darkness in a London slum.

”Follow without remark, and without noise,” commanded the older man, and then, having led the way a few yards farther, he flashed a light upon some narrow stone steps.

d.i.c.k was sure he heard the movement of a large body of water. He was more than ever convinced that they were close to the Thames.

Mr. Brown descended the steps, while d.i.c.k followed. His heart was beating rapidly, but he had no fear. A sense of curiosity had mastered every other feeling. At the bottom of the steps Mr. Brown stopped and listened, but although d.i.c.k strained his powers of hearing, he could detect no sound. The place might have been exactly what it appeared in the darkness--a deserted warehouse.

”Now, then,” whispered Mr. Brown, and there was excitement in his voice.

A second later he tapped with his stick on what appeared to be the door of the warehouse. d.i.c.k, whose senses were keenly alert, counted the taps. Three soft, two loud, and again two soft ones.

The door opened as if by magic. There was no noise, and d.i.c.k would not have known it was opened save for the dim light which was revealed. A second later he had entered, and the door closed.

In the dim light d.i.c.k saw that he was following two dark forms. Evidently the person who had opened the door was leading the way. But he could discern nothing clearly; he thought they were pa.s.sing through some kind of lumber room, but he could have sworn to nothing. After that there was a pa.s.sage of some sort, and again they descended some more steps, at the bottom of which d.i.c.k heard what seemed the confused murmur of voices....

d.i.c.k found himself standing in a kind of vestibule, and there was a sudden glare of light. Both he and Mr. John Brown were in a well-lit room, in which some two hundred people had gathered.

When d.i.c.k's eyes had become accustomed to the light, he saw that he was in the midst of one of the most curious crowds he had ever seen. The people seemed of many nationalities, and the s.e.xes appeared equally divided. Very few old people were present. In the main they were well dressed, and might have been comfortably situated. Nevertheless, it was a motley crowd--motley not so much because of any peculiarity in their attire as because of their personalities. What impressed d.i.c.k more than anything else was the look of fierce intelligence on their faces, and the nervous eagerness which characterised their every movement. Every look, every action spoke of intensity, and as d.i.c.k swept a hasty glance around the room, he felt that he was breathing an atmosphere which was altogether new to him--an atmosphere which was electric.

The room was evidently arranged for a meeting. At one end was a platform on which was placed a table and half a dozen chairs, while the people who formed the audience were waiting for the speakers to appear.

Then d.i.c.k realised that all eyes were turned towards himself and that a sudden silence prevailed. This was followed by what d.i.c.k judged to be a question of some sort, although he could not tell what it was, as it was asked in a language unknown to him.