"Halt! Who comes there?"
"Long live Jeff Davis," muttered Sloan.
Passing on through another door, they found themselves in a small, square apartment, although, so far as Webster was concerned, there was no ocular proof of this. There seemed to be several persons here, and a voice, that was evidently meant to be tragical and impressive, demanded:
"Whom have we here?"
"Most Noble Chief," said Sloan, humbly, "I have a friend in charge, who wishes to become a worthy member of this league."
"His name?"
"Timothy Webster."
"Have the objects of the league been fully explained to him?"
"They have."
The gruff-voiced speaker then said: