But somehow the old spirit flagged. As the light from the glowing charcoal fire flickered up on their faces, each seemed to see distorting shadows of fear and failure on the features of his companions. They finished the ceremony with unusual haste and in unusual silence, and climbing up out of the damp yet stifling underground retreat, slipped out into the raw air, and getting over the palings unseen in the mist, emerged into Charing Cross-road. Rees and Goodhare accompanied Sep as far as St. Martin’s Church, and left him with just time to catch the continental mail train from Charing Cross. Then they returned to Rees Pennant’s lodgings.
“For,” whispered Amos, as soon as their companion had left them, “I have something for you also to do.”
As soon as they were again within closed doors, the older man unburdened himself of his instructions.
“I didn’t wish to frighten Jocelyn,” he began ominously, “for the lad’s turning soft and doesn’t need warning to be careful at any time. But there’s no denying that this is a dangerous business, the most ticklish thing we’ve had on our hands yet.”
“Yes, of course,” assented Rees gloomily.
“So I think we had better get as near the safe side as possible.”
He paused.
“Well?” said Rees.
“Now, the best shelter we can get behind is—influence.”
“Whose?”