They all heard a motor-car stop outside. No one, however, thought it worth while to discontinue his labours for long enough to look out and see who this nocturnal visitor might be. In a very short time, however, these labours were disturbed. From room to room, Julian, with Catherine and the Bishop, for whom they had called on the way, passed with a brief message. No one made any difficulty about coming to the Council room. The first protest was made when they paid the visit which they had purposely left until last. Nicholas Fenn had apparently finished or discontinued his efforts. He was seated in front of his desk, his chin almost resting upon his folded arms, and a cigarette between his lips. Bright was lounging in an easy-chair within a few feet of him. Their heads were close together; their conversation, whatever the subject of it may have been, was conducted in whispers. Apparently they had not heard Julian’s knock, for they started apart, when the door was opened, like conspirators. There was something half-fearful, half-malicious in Fenn’s face, as he stared at them. “What are you doing here?” he demanded. “What’s wrong?” Julian closed the door. “A great deal,” he replied curtly. “We have been around to every one of the delegates and asked them to assemble in the Council room. Will you and Bright come at once?” Fenn looked from one to the other of his visitors and remained silent for a few seconds. “Climbing down, eh?” he asked viciously. “We have some information to communicate,” Julian announced. Fenn moved abruptly away, out of the shadow of the electric lamp which hung over his desk. His voice was anxious, unnatural. “We can’t consider any more information,” he said harshly. “Our decisions have been taken. Nothing can affect them. That’s the worst of having you outsiders on the board. I was certain you wouldn’t face it when the time came.” “As you yourself,” Julian remarked, “are somewhat concerned in this matter, I think it would be well if you came with the others.” “I am not going to stir from this room,” Fenn declared doggedly. “I have my own work to do. And as to my being concerned with what you have to say, I’ll thank you to mind your own business and leave mine alone.” “Mr. Fenn,” the Bishop interposed, “I beg to offer you my advice that you join us at once in the Council room.” Julian and Catherine had already left the room. Fenn leaned forward, and there was an altered note in his tone. “What’s it mean, Bishop?” he asked hoarsely. “Are they ratting, those two?” “What we have come here to say,” the Bishop rejoined, “must be said to every one.” He turned away. Fenn and Bright exchanged quick glances. “What do you make of it?” asked Fenn. “They’ve changed their minds,” Bright muttered, “that’s all. They’re theorists. Damn all theorists! They just blow bubbles to destroy them. As for the girl, she’s been at parties all the evening, as we know.” “You’re right,” Fenn acknowledged. “I was a fool. Come on.”