The reason of his visit disposed of, the whim seized him to make a second tour of inspection below. This time he did not penetrate the tunnel, but sat on an up-ended packing-case in the cellar, gazing down towards the winking luminance that showed where his machine ploughed on tirelessly. The clamour and purr of it hypnotised him. He realised then, as for the first time, the colossal daring of his plot, and its immense simplicity. The shaft which faced him was paralleled by six others, in various stages of progress, that were being driven to his command at that moment, by similar machinery. He had a stabbing comprehension of the immensity of the Power he was moulding to his hand.... The man Torino, breaking out of the gloom with one of the waste-baskets on his back, paused at the look of intentness on his master's face. "It is the plan of a genius," he said softly. "So simple--and so unbeatable! It will mean wealth for all." Surcon nodded. "Wealth.... But this little hole will be used last. It is our safety-valve--our trump card. While this remains unused and a secret, there can be no danger." He followed his foreman back to the sty of a living-room and sat down with his chin in his palms, staring into vacancy. The Italian lighted a rank cigarette and searched among the bottles for an unopened one, which he failed to find. Neither spoke, for each was busy with his own thoughts, and the rap-clang of the brass knocker on the front door made them both start. "See who it is," ordered Surcon, and Torino nodded and tip-toed from the room. He was back in a moment with a small innocent-looking man whose china-blue eyes swept round the dining-room in one wary all-embracing glance. "Morini!" snapped Surcon. "Why the devil have you come here? Fool! Would you lead the police----" "The bulls aren't after me," said Morini calmly. "Arden was on the spot as usual--damn him!--but your idea of having two cars was a brain-wave. He smashed his car into the Carillon, just as I expected, and I jumped from the Navarre. Gee!--I've never seen a man look so sick! He started gunning from the wreckage--plumb in the middle of West Cromwell Road--but we were round the next corner too quick for him." He spoke without Mecklen's nasal twang, for "Gat" Morini had once been a gentleman--notwithstanding which fact he was infinitely the more dangerous of the two. "Did you get Marker?" "Not fatally, though he may die. I always know to a fraction of an inch where my shots go. Arden was so much on the premises he worried me a little, and I misjudged the speed of the car." Surcon shrugged. "It doesn't matter," he remarked. "Gunning is crude--I have a better plan now. A few days----"