the mechanism of their working parts into tolerable order.

Later on, Constans removed the serviceable ammunition, amounting to
several hundred rounds, to a convenient hiding-place in the cellar of a
building fronting on the Lesser or Eastern river, and he also
transported thither the carbines, the latter carefully wrapped in
greased rags to preserve them from dampness. Some day the opportunity
would come to put these things to use. And now, February had passed, and
March was well into its third quarter; in a few more days the returning
sun would cross the line, and spring, the time for action, would be at
hand. How he longed for its advent.

This was the third occasion upon which Constans had noticed that
peculiar noise, a continuous, deep, humming note, such as might have
been made by swarming-bees multiplied a hundredfold. On the day that he
first heard it he happened to be walking three blocks to the westward of
the Citadel Square, and it seemed then that the seat of the mystery lay
almost due south. A week later he happened to be in the same locality.
Once more, those deep-toned vibrations smote upon his ears; now the
sound-waves were all about him and the sense of direction was lost;
again, and they plainly proceeded from somewhere to the eastward. It was
perplexing, but the varying quarter and strength of the wind might be
sufficient to account for the difference, and in one curious particular
the two observations corresponded. The day of the week in each case had
been Friday, and the humming noise had commenced at precisely the same
time--the passing of the sun over the meridian.

To-day was the third successive Friday, and Constans had made
preparations for the careful noting of the phenomenon should it reoccur.
He waited with a lively sense of expectation, and he was not
disappointed. At high noon the humming began again, and it seemed to be
louder than when he had listened to it on the two former occasions--the
air was full of the vibrant droning. There was a sinister quality, too,
in its monotone, and Constans for the moment felt himself swayed by a
gust of superstitious terror. He recalled the traditions current among
the House-dwellers, the belief that Doom was inhabited not only by the
outlaws but by demons of many a grewsome sort and kind. There were
strange tales of lights that lured the wanderer onward, only to vanish
as the victim sank into some frightful abyss; of invisible hands that
plucked at th