They　have　but　two　objects；　to　destroy　first　humanity　and　then　themselves。　That　is　why　they　throw　bombs　instead　of　firing　pistols。　The　innocent　rank　and　file　are　disappointed　because　the　bomb　has　not　killed　the　king；　but　the　high…priesthood　are　happy　because　it　has　killed　somebody。〃
  〃How　can　I　join　you？〃　asked　Syme；　with　a　sort　of　passion。
  〃I　know　for　a　fact　that　there　is　a　vacancy　at　the　moment；〃　said　the　policeman；　〃as　I　have　the　honour　to　be　somewhat　in　the　confidence　of　the　chief　of　whom　I　have　spoken。　You　should　really　come　and　see　him。　Or　rather；　I　should　not　say　see　him；　nobody　ever　sees　him；　but　you　can　talk　to　him　if　you　like。〃
  〃Telephone？〃　inquired　Syme；　with　interest。
  〃No；〃　said　the　policeman　placidly；　〃he　has　a　fancy　for　always　sitting　in　a　pitch…dark　room。　He　says　it　makes　his　thoughts　brighter。　Do　come　along。〃
  Somewhat　dazed　and　considerably　excited；　Syme　allowed　himself　to　be　led　to　a　side…door　in　the　long　row　of　buildings　of　Scotland　Yard。　Almost　before　he　knew　what　he　was　doing；　he　had　been　passed　through　the　hands　of　about　four　intermediate　officials；　and　was　suddenly　shown　into　a　room；　the　abrupt　blackness　of　which　startled　him　like　a　blaze　of　light。　It　was　not　the　ordinary　darkness；　in　which　forms　can　be　faintly　traced；　it　was　like　going　suddenly　stone…blind。
  〃Are　you　the　new　recruit？〃　asked　a　heavy　voice。
  And　in　some　strange　way；　though　there　was　not　the　shadow　of　a　shape　in　the　gloom；　Syme　knew　two　things：　first；　that　it　came　from　a　man　of　massive　stature；　and　second；　that　the　man　had　his　back　to　him。
  〃Are　you　the　new　recruit？〃　said　the　invisible　chief；　who　seemed　to　have　heard　all　about　it。　〃All　right。　You　are　engaged。〃
  Syme；　quite　swept　off　his　feet；　made　a　feeble　fight　against　this　irrevocable　phrase。
  〃I　really　have　no　experience；〃　he　began。
  〃No　one　has　any　experience；〃　said　the　other；　〃of　the　Battle　of　Armageddon。〃
  〃But　I　am　really　unfit〃
  〃You　are　willing；　that　is　enough；〃　said　the　unknown。
  〃Well；　really；〃　said　Syme；　〃I　don't　know　any　profession　of　which　mere　willingness　is　the　final　test。〃
  〃I　do；〃　said　the　other〃martyrs。　I　am　condemning　you　to　death。　Good　day。〃
  Thus　it　was　that　when　Gabriel　Syme　came　out　again　into　the　crimson　light　of　evening；　in　his　shabby　black　hat　and　shabby；　lawless　cloak；　he　came　out　a　member　of　the　New　Detective　Corps　for　the　frustration　of　the　great　conspiracy。　Acting　under　the　advice　of　his　friend　the　policeman　（who　was　professionally　inclined　to　neatness）；　he　trimmed　his　hair　and　beard；　bought　a　good　hat；　clad　himself　in　an　exquisite　summer　suit　of　light　blue…grey；　with　a　pale　yellow　flower　in　the　button…hole；　and；　in　short；　became　that　elegant　and　rather　insupportable　person　whom　Gregory　had　first　encountered　in　the　little　garden　of　Saffron　Park。　Before　he　finally　left　the　police　premises　his　friend　provided　him　with　a　small　blue　card；　on　which　was　written；　〃The　Last　Crusade；〃　and　a　number；　the　sign　of　his　official　authority。　He　put　this　carefully　in　his　upper　waistcoat　pocket；　lit　a　cigarette；　and　went　forth　to　track　and　fight　the　enemy　in　all　the　drawing…rooms　of　London。　Where　his　adventure　ultimately　led　him　we　have　already　seen。　At　about　half…past　one　on　a　February　night　he　found　himself　steaming　in　a　small　tug　up　the　silent　Thames；　armed　with　swordstick　and　revolver；　the　duly　elected　Thursday　of　the　Central　Council　of　Anarchists。
  When　Syme　stepped　out　on　to　the　steam…tug　he　had　a　singular　sensation　of　stepping　out　into　something　entirely　new；　not　merely　into　the　landscape　of　a　new　land；　but　even　into　the　landscape　of　a　new　planet。　This　was　mainly　due　to　the　insane　yet　solid　decision　of　that　evening；　though　partly　also　to　an　entire　change　in　the　weather　and　the　sky　since　he　entered　the　little　tavern　some　two　hours　before。　Every　trace　of　the　passionate　plumage　of　the　cloudy　sunset　had　been　swept　away；　and　a　naked　moon　stood　in　a　naked　sky。　The　moon　was　so　strong　and　full　that　（by　a　paradox　often　to　be　noticed）　it　seemed　like　a　weaker　sun。　It　gave；　not　the　sense　of　bright　moonshine；　but　rather　of　a　dead　daylight。
  Over　the　whole　landscape　lay　a　luminous　and　unnatural　discoloration；　as　of　that　disastrous　twilight　which　Milton　spoke　of　as　shed　by　the　sun　in　eclipse；　so　that　Syme　fell　easily　into　his　first　thought；　that　he　was　actually　on　some　other　and　emptier　planet；　which　circled　round　some　sadder　star。　But　the　more　he　felt　this　glittering　desolation　in　the　moonlit　land；　the　more　his　own　chivalric　folly　glowed　in　the　night　like　a　great　fire。　Even　the　common　things　he　carried　with　himthe　food　and　the　brandy　and　the　loaded　pistoltook　on　exactly　that　concrete　and　material　poetry　which　a　child　feels　when　he　takes　a　gun　upon　a　journey　or　a　bun　with　him　to　bed。　The　sword…stick　and　the　brandy…flask；　though　in　themselves　only　the　tools　of　morbid　conspirators；　became　the　expressions　of　his　own　more　healthy　romance。　The　sword…stick　became　almost　the　sword　of　chivalry；　and　the　brandy　the　wine　of　the　stirrup…cup。　For　even　the　most　dehumanised　modern　fantasies　depend　on　some　older　and　simpler　figure；　the　adventures　may　be　mad；　but　the　adventurer　must　be　sane。　The　dragon　without　St。　George　would　not　even　be　grotesque。　So　this　inhuman　landscape　was　only　imaginative　by　the　presence　of　a　man　really　human。　To　Syme's　exaggerative　mind　the　bright；　bleak　houses　and　terraces　by　the　Thames　looked　as　empty　as　the　mountains　of　the　moon。　But　even　the　moon　is　only　poetical　because　there　is　a　man　in　the　moon。
  The　tug　was　worked　by　two　men；　and　with　much　toil　went　comparatively　slowly。　The　clear　moon　that　had　lit　up　Chiswick　had　gone　down　by　the　time　that　they　passed　Battersea；　and　when　they　came　under　the　enormous　bulk　of　Westminster　day　had　already　begun　to　break。　It　broke　like　the　splitting　of　great　bars　of　lead；　showing　bars　of　silver；　and　these　had　brightened　like　white　fire　when　the　tug；　changing　its　onward　course；　turned　inward　to　a　large　landing　stage　rather　beyond　Charing　Cross。
  The　great　stones　of　the　Embankment　seemed　equally　dark　and　gigantic　as　Syme　looked　up　at　them。　They　were　big　and　black　against　the　huge　white　dawn。　They　made　him　feel　that　he　was　landing　on　the　colossal　steps　of　some　Egyptian　palace；　and；　indeed；　the　thing　suited　his　mood；　for　he　was；　in　his　own　mind；　mounting　to　attack　the　solid　thrones　of　horrible　and　heathen　kings。　He　leapt　out　of　the　boat　on　to　one　slimy　step；　and　stood；　a　dark　and　slender　figure；　amid　the　enormous　masonry。　The　two　men　in　the　tug　put　her　off　again　and　turned　up　stream。　They　had　never　spoken　a　word。
  CHAPTER　V
  THE　FEAST　OF　FEAR
  AT　first　the　large　stone　stair　seemed　to　Syme　as　deserted　as　a　pyramid；　but　before　he　reached　the　top　he　had　realised　that　there　was　a　man　leaning　over　the　parapet　of　the　Embankment　and　looking　out　across　the　river。　As　a　figure　he　was　quite　conventional；　clad　in　a　silk　hat　and　frock…coat　of　the　more　formal　type　of　fashion；　he　had　a　red　flower　in　his　buttonhole。　As　Syme　drew　nearer　to　him　step　by　step；　he　did　not　even　move　a　hair；　and　Syme　could　come　close　enough　to　notice　even　in　the　dim；　pale　morning　light　that　his　face　was　long；　pale　and　intellectual；　and　ended　in　a　small　triangular　tuft　of　dark　beard　at　the　very　point　of　the　chin；　all　else　being　clean…shaven。　This　scrap　of　hair　almost　seemed　a　mere　oversight；　the　rest　of　the　face　was　of　the　type　that　is　best　shavenclear…cut；　ascetic；　and　in　its　way　noble。　Syme　drew　closer　and　closer；　noting　all　this；　and　still　the　figure　did　not　stir。
  At　first　an　instinct　had　told　Syme　that　this　was　the　man　whom　he　was　meant　to　meet。　Then；　seeing　that　the　man　made　no　sign；　he　had　concluded　that　he　was　not。　And　now　again　he　had　come　back　to　a　certainty　that　the　man　had　something　to　do　with　his　mad　adventure。　For　the　man　remained　more　still　than　would　have　been　natural　if　a　stranger　had　come　so　close。　He　was　as　motionless　as　a　wax…work；　and　got　on　the　nerves　somewhat　in　the　same　way。　Syme　looked　again　and　again　at　the　pale；　dignified　and　delicate　face；　and　the　face　still　looked　blankly　across　the　river。　Then　he　took　out　of　his　pocket　the　note　from　Buttons　proving　his　election；　and　put　it　before　that　sad　and　beautiful　face。　Then　the　man　smiled；　and　his　smile　was　a　shock；　for　it　was　all　on　one　side；　going　up　in　the　right　cheek　and　down　in　the　left。
  There　was　nothing；　rationally　speaking；　to　scare　anyone　about　this。　Many　people　have　this　nervous　trick　of　a　crooked　smile；　and　in　many　it　is　even　attractive。　But　in　all　Syme's　circumstances；　with　the　dark　dawn　and　the　deadly　errand　and　the　loneliness　on　the　great　dripping　stones；　there　was　something　unnerving　in　it。
  There　was　the　silent　river　and　the　silent　man；　a　man　of　even　classic　face。　And　there　was　the　last　nightmare　touch　that　his　smile　suddenly　went　wrong。
  The　spasm　of　smile　was　instantaneous；　and　the　man's　face　dropped　at　once　into　its　harmonious　melancholy。　He　spoke　without　further　explanation　or　inquiry；　like　a　man　speaking　to　an　old　colleague。
  〃If　we　walk　up　towards　Leicester　Square；〃　he　said；　〃we　shall　just　be　in　time　for　breakfast。　Sunday　always　insists　on　an　early　breakfast。　Have　you　had　any　sleep？〃
  〃No；〃　said　Syme。
  〃Nor　have　I；〃　answered　the　man　in　an　ordinary　tone。　〃I　shall　try　to　get　to　bed　after　breakfast。〃
  He　spoke　with　casual　civility；　but　in