The room was furnished with a table and several chairs. It was lighted by a large lamp in the corner.
Paget noted that several advertising devices were displayed on the table. One attracted his attention. It was a glass frame with gray backing, mounted on a pedestal.
Evidently Paget knew what he was expected to do. He acted immediately. He went to the lamp. He turned out the lights and sat in a chair. After a short pause, he spoke.
“Silence,” he said, softly.
A light appeared in the gray frame. There, in gleaming letters, was the word “Seven.” It stood as a silent reply to his password.
“Five,” said Paget.
The word “seven” disappeared. In its place came the word “one”.
Paget, as the fifth member of the secret group, was in communication with the chief of the organization.
Every word that the clubman uttered was transmitted to some other place — how distant, Paget did not know — where a hand controlled the switch that made the answering words appear.
“I require the immediate aid of the Faithful Fifty,” said Paget, his low voice disguised and scarcely audible in the darkness.