"They are a little late to-night, Pendarvon." He looked at his watch. "Indeed! Is it possible that they may have neglected to make a note of the occasion?" Mr. Pendarvon laughed--again not merrily. "I don't think there is much fear of that. They're sure to come, if only for their own safety's sake." Again the cheerless grin. "Possibly they're trying to get their spirits up by putting the spirits down upon the way. Hark! there's some one coming now." There was a silence as the two men listened, with their eyes upon the dial-plate which Mr. Pendarvon had left exposed. It repeated the performance with which it had announced Mr. Townsend's arrival. "You have good ears, Pendarvon. I heard nothing." Mr. Pendarvon admitted that it was so. "I have good ears." He spoke with a dryness which seemed to be unnecessarily significant. He sounded the gong. There was a voice without. "Henry!" "Dear Mr. Shepherd. You may let him in." The door swung open. There entered a tall man, with long grey hair, clad in the attire of a superior mechanic. He had a silent face--the face of a man who can be silent in very many tongues--and the eyes of a man who sees visions. He vouchsafed no sort of greeting, but at once sat down on one of the chairs which stood around the table. Mr. Townsend looked at him as one looks at an object which one finds an interesting study. "I trust, Mr. Shepherd, that you may have fortune in drawing the lot to-night." Mr. Shepherd opened his lips, which hitherto he had kept hermetically closed. He spoke with a nasal twang which suggested a certain type of prayer-meeting. "Not to-night: my hour is not yet." "Indeed! May I ask when your hour is likely to be?" "I seek not to inquire." The hint which Mr. Shepherd intended to convey was unmistakable. Mr. Pendarvon laughed. Mr. Townsend stared. Before the latter could speak again the dial-plate repeated its previous performances. This time two voices answered to the summons of the gong. The door opened to admit Mr. Teddy Hibbard and his inseparable friend, Mr. Eugene Silvester. They were both of them boys, rather than men, and were obviously members of that class which, in a more advanced stage of social organisation, will probably, during its salad days, be detained in some kindly institution, the inmates of which will be gently, yet firmly, persuaded to do themselves as little injury as they conveniently can. They grow out of it, some of these young men, in time. But one had only to look at this particular two to see that, with them, that time was scarcely yet. The bell, being started, was kept rolling. One after the other the members of the Club came in. A heterogeneous gathering they were. One wondered what some of them did in such a galley. They seemed to be so oddly out of place.