“No, I haven’t the spirit to do that, as you know. But I--I’ve been seen--I’m sure of it. On my way back from that cursed Tower I seemed to see faces peering out of the fog--Charles Cenarth’s and Lord St. Austell’s. Of course I’ll go if you insist, but I tell you it will be a d----d unlucky journey.” His companions laughed at his fears, did their best to raise his drooping spirits, and at last, chiefly by the aid of consoling potations, restored him to something like his old cheerful submissiveness. Then, taking swift advantage of the change in him, they equipped him for his journey with a disguise which Amos had had ready, with clothing, with money, and with a travelling bag with a false bottom, in which, between layers of tissue paper, the stolen jewels were packed. All these preparations being completed, Amos mixed a loving cup, which they all drank solemnly to their usual toast on the eve of one of their nefarious enterprises: “Success to the Princes of the Fog.” But somehow the old spirit flagged. As the light from the glowing charcoal fire flickered up on their faces, each seemed to see distorting shadows of fear and failure on the features of his companions. They finished the ceremony with unusual haste and in unusual silence, and climbing up out of the damp yet stifling underground retreat, slipped out into the raw air, and getting over the palings unseen in the mist, emerged into Charing Cross-road. Rees and Goodhare accompanied Sep as far as St. Martin’s Church, and left him with just time to catch the continental mail train from Charing Cross. Then they returned to Rees Pennant’s lodgings. “For,” whispered Amos, as soon as their companion had left them, “I have something for you also to do.” As soon as they were again within closed doors, the older man unburdened himself of his instructions. “I didn’t wish to frighten Jocelyn,” he began ominously, “for the lad’s turning soft and doesn’t need warning to be careful at any time. But there’s no denying that this is a dangerous business, the most ticklish thing we’ve had on our hands yet.” “Yes, of course,” assented Rees gloomily. “So I think we had better get as near the safe side as possible.” He paused. “Well?” said Rees. “Now, the best shelter we can get behind is--influence.” “Whose?” “Lord St. Austell’s.” Rees started. “The man we both hate?” “Why should that prevent our making use of him? Now he can’t, in common decency, let me suffer if he can help it. It lies with you to make it equally impossible for him to let you suffer.” “Go on; out with it.” “Become his son-in-law without delay. Marion will jump at you.” Rees moved uneasily. “I know that. If she were a little less ready, I might be a little more so.” “This is not a time to stick at trifles. You had an appointment with her to-night at a friend’s house?” “Yes, but I can’t go--fog’s too thick for me to venture out.” “She’ll venture, I suppose?” The young man shrugged his shoulders contemptuously.