“Look round, Natalushka,” she said.  “Can you guess who has arranged all this for me—­for me and for you?”

The girl almost instantly turned—­her eyes cast down—­and took her lover’s hand, and kissed it in silence.  That was all.

Then said he, lightly, as he shoved the low easy-chair nearer the fire,

“Come, madame, and sit down here; and you, Natalushka, here is a stool for you, that you will be able to lean your head on your mother’s knee.  There; it is a very pretty group:  do you know why I make you into a picture?  Well, you see, these are troubled times; and one has one’s work to do; and who can tell what may happen?  But don’t you see that, whatever may happen, I can carry away with me this picture; and always, wherever I may be, I can say to myself that Natalie and her mother are together in the quiet little room, and that they are happy.  Now I must bid you good-bye; I have a great deal of business to-day with my solicitor.  And the landlady, madame:  how does she serve you?”

“She overwhelms me with kindness.”

“That is excellent,” said he, as he shook hands with them and, against both their protests, took his leave.

He carried away that picture in his mind.  He had left these two together, and they were happy.  What mattered it to him what became of himself?

It was on the evening of that day that he had to obey the summons of the Council.

CHAPTER XL.

A CONCLAVE.

Punctual to the moment George Brand arrived in Lisle Street.  He was shown into an inner room, where he found Lind seated at a desk, and Reitzei and Beratinsky standing by the fireplace.  On an adjacent table where four cups of black coffee, four small glasses, a bottle of brandy, and a box of cigarettes.

Lind rose to receive him, and was very courteous indeed—­apologizing for having had to break in on his preparations for leaving, and offering him coffee, cigarettes, and what not.  When the new-comer had declined these, Lind resumed his place and begged the others to be seated.

“We will proceed to business at once, gentlemen,” said he, speaking in quite an ordinary and matter-of-fact way, “although, I will confess to you, it is not business entirely to my liking.  Perhaps I should not say so.  This paper, you see, contains my authorization from the Council to summon you and to explain the service they demand:  perhaps I should merely obey, and say nothing.  But we are friends; we can speak in confidence.”

Here Reitzei, who was even more pallid than usual, and whose fingers seemed somewhat shaky, filled one of the small glasses of brandy, and drank it off.

“I do not say that I hesitate,” continued Lind—­“that I am reluctant, because the service that is required from us—­from one of us four—­is dangerous—­is exceedingly dangerous.  No,” he said, with a brief smile, “as far as I am myself concerned, I have carried my life in my hands too often to think much about that.  And you, gentlemen, considering the obligations you have accepted, I take it that the question of possible harm to yourselves is not likely to interfere with your obedience to the commands of the Council.”