"I’m quite sure he’s here," I said. "And I must see him." The brow of H. Blasius darkened, and he looked about slowly as though he meditated calling for assistance to hasten my departure. "I don’t vant ze trouble," he had begun, when I caught sight of my man at a table in the alcove at the other end of the long room. "There he is now," I interrupted. "There’ll be no trouble, if you don’t make it yourself." I was gone before H. Blasius had brought his wits to understand my meaning, and in a moment stood beside a group of men who were sitting around the farther table, beer glasses before them and pipes in hand, listening to an excited young man with a shock of long, tawny hair, who pounded the table to strengthen the force of his argument. As he came to a pause, I put my hand on the shoulder of a tall, awkward, spare-built man, with a stubby red beard, who was listening with effort, and evidently burning to reply to the fervid young orator. It was Clark, and he rose clumsily and shook hands with effusion. "I’m glad you come, Mr. Hampden; I’d about give you up. Boys, this is Mr. Hampden, the friend I was telling you about. Won’t you take this chair, sir, and spend the evening with us? We was having a little discussion about the Revolution." "The Revolution!" I exclaimed. "Well, that’s a safe antiquarian topic." "Oh," stammered Clark, "it isn’t the old Revolution. That’s too far back for us. It’s the coming Revolution we’re talking about, when all men are to be equal and share alike in the good things of the earth. Parks, here, thinks he knows all about it." And he waved his hand toward the oratorical young man, who looked on the world with eyes that seemed to burn with the light of fever. Parks accepted this as an introduction, and acknowledged it with a nod as I took a seat. I looked at him with keen interest, for I knew his name as one of the nine leaders who had banded themselves to right the wrongs of the world--with the incidental assistance of Peter Bolton. Then I looked about the rest of the group as Clark spoke their names, and was disappointed to find that a little spectacled German, with a bristling black beard, was the only other member of the Council at the table. "Hope to know you better, Mr. Hampden," said Parks. "You don’t look to be one of us." "If it’s a secret society, I can’t say that I’ve been initiated," I said. "But I hope you’ll count me as one of you for an occasional evening. What do you happen to be, if I may ask?" "We," said Parks, leaning forward and gazing fiercely into my eyes, "we represent the people. We are from the masses." "I’m afraid, then," I returned with a laugh, "you’ll have to count me as one of you. I can’t think of any way in which my name gets above the level of the lower ten million."