d, seems to be the entrance to the
dwelling-house of the nameless foreigner. On the left-hand door-post
is nailed a small tin tablet, whereon are inscribed in the Russian
character three words, which, being translated, read: "The Brothers of
Liberty." As no one of importance in the West India Dock Road reads the
Russian characters, there is no harm done, or else some disappointment
would necessarily be experienced by the passer-by to think that any one
so nearly related to liberty should choose to live in that spot. Neither
would the Trafalgar Square agitator be pleased were he called upon to
suppose that the siren whom he pursues with such ardor on rainy Sunday
afternoons could ever take refuge behind the dingy Turkey-red curtain
that hides the inner parts of the furrier's store from vulgar gaze.

"That's their lingo," said Captain Cable to himself, with considerable
emphasis, one dull winter afternoon when, after much study of the
numbers over the shop doors, he finally came to a stand opposite the
furrier's shop.

He stepped back into the road to look up at the house, thereby
imperilling his life amid the traffic. A costermonger taking cabbages
from the Borough Market to Limehouse gave the captain a little piece
of his mind in the choicest terms then current in his daily intercourse
with man, and received in turn winged words of such a forcible and
original nature as to send him thoughtfully eastward behind his cart.

"That's their lingo, right enough," said the captain, examining the tin
tablet a second time. "That's Polish, or I'm a Dutchman."

He was, as a matter of fact, wrong, for it was Russian, but this was,
nevertheless, the house he sought. He looked at the dingy building
critically, shrugged his shoulders, and, tilting forward his
high-crowned hat, he scratched his head with a grimace indicative of
disappointment. It was not to come to such a house as this that he
had put on what he called his "suit"; a coat and trousers of solid
pilot-cloth designed to be worn as best in all climates and at all
times. It was not in order to impress such people as must undoubtedly
live behind those faded red curtains that he had unpacked from the
state-room locker his shore-going hat, high, and of fair, round shape,
such as is only to be bought in the shadow of Limehouse steeple.

The house was uninviting. It had a furtive, dishonest look about it.
Captain Cable saw this. He was a man who studied weather and the outward