apostles and martyrs who have left no name. The night before the special meeting a gentleman in a blue cloak, and with a cigar in his mouth, sauntered past the entrance to Carter’s Rents, where Mr. Secretary lived. It was getting late, but he was evidently not in a hurry, and seemed to enjoy the coolness of the air, for presently he turned and walked past the entrance again. He took out his watch—it was a quarter to eleven o’clock—and he cursed Mr. Secretary and the beer-shops which had probably detained him. A constable came by, but never showed himself in the least degree inquisitive; although it was odd that anybody should select Carter’s Rents for a stroll. Presently Mr. Secretary came in sight, a trifle, but not much, the worse for liquor. It was odd, also, that he took no notice of the blue cloak and cigar, but went straight to his own lodging. The other, after a few moments followed; and it was a third time odd that he should find the door unbolted and go upstairs. All this, we say, would have been strange to a spectator, but it was not so to these three persons. Presently the one first named found himself in Mr. Secretary’s somewhat squalid room. He then stood disclosed as the assistant whom the Secretary had first seen at Whitehall sitting in the Commissioner’s Office. This was not the second nor third interview which had taken place since then. “Well, Mr. Hardy, what do you want here to-night?” “Well, my friend, you know, I suppose. How goes the game?” “D—m me if I _do_ know. If you think I am going to split, you are very much mistaken.” “Split! Who wants you to split? Why, there’s nothing to split about. I can tell you just as much as you can tell me.” “Why do you come here then?” “For the pleasure of seeing you, and to—” Mr. Hardy put his hand carelessly in his pocket, a movement which was followed by a metallic jingle—“and just to—to—explain one or two little matters.” The Secretary observed that he was very tired. “Are you? I believe I am tired too.” Mr. Hardy took out a little case-bottle with brandy in it, and the Secretary, without saying a word, produced two mugs and a jug of water. The brandy was mixed by Mr. Hardy; but his share of the spirit differed from that assigned to his friend. “Split!” he continued; “no, I should think not. But we want you to help us. The Major and one or two more had better be kept out of harm’s way for a little while; and we propose not to hurt them, but to take care of them a bit, you understand? And if, the next time, he and the others will be there—we have been looking for the Major for three or four days, but he is not to be found in his old quarters—we will just give them a call. When will you have your next meeting? They will be all handy then.” “You can find that out without my help. It’s to-morrow.” “Ah! I suppose you’ve had a stormy discussion. I hope your moderate counsels prevailed.”