hat he had made sure in his own mind that
it was in the nature of a signal from one member of a fraternity to
another. The spilling of the salt--symbol from all ages of disaster, a
meet signal indeed for these dark and dangerous men!

With an impulse which crystallised the longings of years, Lessing
attracted his companion's attention by a hasty movement, and then,
lifting high his knife, swept his own salt on to the cloth so that the
white dust scattered and mingled with the dust already spread.

The effect was instantaneous. The swarthy face bent forward to meet his
own, the eyes gleamed, the guttural voice breathed a deep, low word:

"_Brother_!"

"_Brother_!" whispered Lessing in return. His pulses were racing, but
he held himself resolutely in hand. A false move might spoil all. He
must be silent, and let the other man do the talking. He sat in an
attitude of attention while the Bearded One crouched over the table,
speaking in baited tones. His accent was rather Jewish than foreign, a
thick, ugly voice, thickened as though by some physical obstruction.

"I have been waiting. The time is short. I must be hurrying on. There
are many places where I must carry the news!" His voice sank to an
almost unhearable depth. "_It is for to-night_!"

"To-night!" gasped Lessing in return. His real dismay at the nearness
of the unknown happening supplied a genuine note to his exclamation, and
it appeared that surprise was expected.

"To-night! To-night! The chief has given the order. It is his way to
make all ready, and at the last to give but a few hours' notice. It is
safer so. He has a wise head. All is arranged, and to-morrow, by this
time to-morrow--" His lips rolled back, the large prominent teeth
gleamed in a smile of diabolic delight. "London, the city of the
oppressors--what will be left of the great London then? Nothing but a
wilderness of fire and ruin!"

Lessing's blood ran cold. An adventurer at heart, he yet had the true
Englishman's love of the metropolis. At the thought of danger to London
he winced as at a personal wound; in his heart dawned the surprising
conviction that he would risk his own life, not once, but a dozen times
over, to avert the destruction of that grey old pile.

The destruction of London--mad words! Mad fancy! Was this man a maniac
that he spoke of such an impossible feat? Agitated, almost gasping for
breath, Lessing heard himself stammer detached words of inqu