Giannoli, when seen apart from Gnecco, was a tall man. But at the time of his arrival in London he was already falling a victim to ill-health; there was a bent, tired look about his figure, and his features were drawn and thin. A glance at him sufficed to reveal a nervous, highly-strung temperament; his movements were jerky, and altogether, about his entire person, there was a noticeable lack of repose. He was about thirty-five years of age, though he gave the impression of a rather older man. The fact that he was very short-sighted gave a peculiar look to his face, which was kindly enough in expression; his features were pronounced, with a prominent nose and full, well-cut mouth hidden by a heavy moustache. There was a look of considerable strength about the man, and fanatical determination strangely blended with diffidence--a vigorous nature battling against the inroads of some mortal disease. The third member of the trio was a shortish, thickset man of extraordinary vigour. He somehow put me in mind of a strongly-built, one-storey, stone blockhouse, and looked impregnable in every direction; evidently a man of firm character, buoyed up by vigorous physique. He was a man rather of character than of intellect, of great moral strength rather than of intellectual brilliancy--a fighter and an idealist, not a theoriser. I knew him very well by renown, for he was of European fame in the Anarchist party, and the _bête noire_ of the international police. Enrico Bonafede was a man born out of his time--long after it and long before--whose tremendous energy was wasted in the too strait limits of modern civilised society. In a heroic age he would undoubtedly have made a hero; in nineteenth-century Europe his life was wasted and his sacrifices useless. These men, born out of their generation, are tragic figures; they have in them the power and the will to scale the heights of Mount Olympus and to stem the ocean, while they are forced to spend their life climbing mole-hills and stumbling into puddles. Such, briefly, were the three men who suddenly emerged from the fog into the office of the _Tocsin_, and who formed the vanguard of our foreign invasion. All three were at once sympathetic to me, and I viewed their advent with pleasure. We celebrated it by an unusually lavish banquet of fried fish and potatoes, for they were wretchedly cold and hungry and exhausted after a long journey and almost equally long fast, for of course they all arrived in a perfectly penniless condition.