The day passed, and the evening came.  As six o’clock was striking, George Brand presented himself at the little door in Lisle street, Soho, and was admitted.  Lind had already assured him that, as far as England was concerned, no idle mummeries were associated with the ceremony of initiation; to which Brand had calmly replied, that if mummeries were considered necessary, he was as ready as any one to do his part of the business.  Only he added that he thought the unknown powers had acted wisely—­so far as England was concerned—­in discarding such things.

When he entered the room, his first glance round was reassuring.  There were six persons present besides Lind, and they did not at all suggest the typical Leicester Square foreigner.  On the contrary, he guessed that four out of the six were either English or Irish; and two of them he recognized, though they were unknown to him personally.  The one was a Home Rule M.P., ferocious enough in the House of Commons, but celebrated as the most brilliant, and amiable, and fascinating of diners-out; the other was an Oxford don, of large fortune and wildly Radical views, who wrote a good deal in the papers.  There was a murmur of conversation going on, which ceased as Lind briefly introduced the new-comer.

The ceremony, if ceremony it could be called, was simple enough.  The candidate for admission was required to sign a printed document, solemnly pledging himself to devote his life, and the labor of his hands and brain, to the work of the association; to implicitly obey any command reaching him from the Council, or communicated through an officer of the first degree; and to preserve inviolable secrecy.  Brand read this paper through twice, and signed it.  It was then signed by the seven witnesses.  He was further required to inscribe his signature in a large volume, which contained a list of members of a particular section.  That done, the six strangers present shook him by the hand, and left.

He looked round surprised.  Had he been dreaming during these brief five minutes?  Yet he could hear the noise of their going down-stairs.

“Well,” said Mr. Lind, with a smile, “it is not a very terrible ceremony, is it?  Did you expect prostrations at the altar; and blindfold gropings, and the blessing of the dagger?  When you come to know a little more of our organization, of its extent and its power, you will understand how we can afford to dispense with all those theatrical ways of frightening people into obedience and secrecy.”

“I expected to find Evelyn here,” said George Brand.  He was in truth, just a little bit bewildered as yet.  He had been assured that there would be no foolish mummeries or fantastic rites of initiation; but all the same he had been much occupied with this step he was about to take; he had been thinking of it much; he had been looking forward to something unknown; and he had been nerving himself to encounter whatever might come before him.  But that five minutes of silence; the quick reading and signing of a paper; the sudden dispersion of the small assemblage:  he could scarcely believe it was all real.