Old Adelbert drew back. “I do not like your rule. I am not as other men. I must see where I go.”
“I shall lead you carefully. And, if you fear, I can carry you.” He chuckled at the thought. But old Adelbert knew well that he could do it, knew that he was as a child to those mighty arms. He submitted to the bandage, however, with an ill grace that caused the concierge to smile.
“It hurts your dignity, eh, old rooster!” he said jovially. “Others, of greater dignity, have felt the same. But all submit in the end.”
He piloted the veteran among the graves with the ease of familiarity. Only once he spoke. “Know you where you are?”
“In a field,” said Adelbert, “recently ploughed.”
“Aye, in a field, right enough. But one which sows corruption, and raises nothing, until perhaps great St. Gabriel calls in his crop.”
Then, realizing the meaning of the mounds over which he trod, old Adelbert crossed himself.
“Only a handful know of this meeting-place,” boasted the concierge. “I, and a few others. Only we may meet with the Committee face to face.”
“You must have great influence,” observed old Adelbert timidly.
“I control the guilds. He who to-day can sway labor to his will is powerful, very powerful comrade. Labor is the great beast which tires of carrying burdens, and is but now learning its strength.”