Her speech roused the assembly to enthusiasm, Mr Jackson being particularly fervent in his applause. No doubt, he believed himself to be a philanthropist, insomuch as he levied his exactions on the leisured classes; thus, in a measure, redressing the balance of human wrongs. Moreno applauded with hardly less fervour than the moneylender, and he was pleased to note that the eloquent Valerie shot a grateful glance at him. He had already gained the confidence of Lucue. He felt sure, from the reception accorded her, that she was only second to the great man himself. If he could secure her good graces, his position would be safe. Some business, not of great importance, was discussed. Certain projects were put to the vote. On one subject, Lucue and Mademoiselle Valerie dissented from the majority. Moreno decided with the two, and the majority reversed its verdict. Violet Hargrave was, perhaps, the least enthusiastic of the party. Truth to tell, she was studying the young journalist very intently. He interested her greatly. The proceedings ended. A meeting was arranged for next week at the same place, when two members of the brotherhood were expected to arrive from Barcelona with the latest reports of what was happening in Spain. After a little desultory chatting in groups, Maceda's guests prepared to depart. Moreno held out his hand to Mrs Hargrave. He bore the air of a man who had thoroughly enjoyed himself, as in truth he had. "A most delightful evening. I can only hope you will sit beside me next week. But that I fear is too much to hope for. I expect our good friend Lucue arranges these things with a sense of equity." Mrs Hargrave smiled. "I expect next time he will put you next to Mademoiselle Delmonte." Ignoring his outstretched hand, she added abruptly, "Are you doing anything after this?" "I was only going on to my club for an hour or two. We journalists are not very early birds." Mrs Hargrave spoke with her most charming smile. "Then get me a taxi, and drive with me to my flat in Mount Street. I should like to have a little chat with you." Moreno was delighted to accompany her. He was eager to know more of this fascinating and enigmatical woman. He was puzzled by her. How did she live; on what did she live? Was she at heart an anarchist? Or, sudden thought, was she playing the same game as himself? He had noticed her lack of enthusiasm over the events of the evening. Arrived in Mount Street, she produced her latchkey, and ushered him into her luxurious flat, the abode of a well-off woman. She turned into the drawing-room, and switched on the electric light. She threw her cloak on a chair and rang the bell. When the maid appeared in answer, she ordered her to bring refreshment. She mixed a whiskey and soda for Moreno with her own slender dainty hands. She mixed a very small portion for herself, to keep him company.