iry:

"When? Where? Where--How do they start--?"

The answer came back in a low hissing whisper:

"The oil tanks on the Thames! Ah-ha, it is a great scheme, a fine
scheme. The fuel is lying there, ready to our hands. Three Brothers
have volunteered for the bomb throwing. They will die for a great
cause. Their names will be remembered as martyrs among us. The burning
oil will flare out to the Thames. Think of it! Think of it! A river
of flaming oil, joined by other rivers; all the tanks exploded, one by
one; the stream of fire flowing along, leaving behind burning shipping,
burning banks, spreading ruin to right and left. Think of it, Brother,
think of it! Think of the dark stairways and passages, where a man may
creep, a man with a torch helping the work, sending the sparks to a
fresh home. Who can guard miles of river bank? Who can distinguish one
worker from another? Ah, it will be a brave night, a brave night. We
have waited, Brother, we have appeared to submit, but now--now--"

His voice grew hoarse with excitement. Lessing pressed his knee gently
beneath the table.

"Careful. Be careful. We are observed. Give me my orders!"

The Bearded One drew himself up, and made a pretence of continuing his
meal. His voice sank to its old, guttural tones.

"To stay here, and pass round the word. All the Brothers to be on duty,
except those watched by the police. Red Fist and Wharbuton to leave by
the nine o'clock train from Charing Cross, and cross to Paris. Their
departure is to be as public as possible. It would be well if they were
given a send-off. If they are out of the way the watch will be relaxed.
At all costs they must be found. I go on to other places, you stay
here, meet other Brothers, give them all this message. Red Fist and
Wharbuton to be found and sent off. All others on duty to-night. Not a
moment to waste."

"Right," said Lessing quickly, and the Bearded One rose from his seat.
Then followed a moment of tension, for suddenly, as if in default of a
parting signal, the beetling brows frowned upon him, and a glance of
indecision swept across the face. Lessing sensed the danger, and leaped
to avert it. Touching the salt with his fingers, he said meaningly: "We
are watched, Brother. We are watched!" and bent his head over his
plate.

There was a breathless silence, then the thick voice bade him good
night, and he knew that the danger was past. The next moment the swing