〃With　whom？〃　asked　Syme。
  〃With　the　people　out　of　that　train；〃　said　the　other。
  〃What　you　say　seems　utterly　wild；〃　began　Syme。　〃Why；　as　a　matter　of　factBut；　my　God；〃　he　cried　out　suddenly；　like　a　man　who　sees　an　explosion　a　long　way　off；　〃by　God！　if　this　is　true　the　whole　bally　lot　of　us　on　the　Anarchist　Council　were　against　anarchy！　Every　born　man　was　a　detective　except　the　President　and　his　personal　secretary。　What　can　it　mean？〃
  〃Mean！〃　said　the　new　policeman　with　incredible　violence。　〃It　means　that　we　are　struck　dead！　Don't　you　know　Sunday？　Don't　you　know　that　his　jokes　are　always　so　big　and　simple　that　one　has　never　thought　of　them？　Can　you　think　of　anything　more　like　Sunday　than　this；　that　he　should　put　all　his　powerful　enemies　on　the　Supreme　Council；　and　then　take　care　that　it　was　not　supreme？　I　tell　you　he　has　bought　every　trust；　he　has　captured　every　cable；　he　has　control　of　every　railway　lineespecially　of　that　railway　line！〃　and　he　pointed　a　shaking　finger　towards　the　small　wayside　station。　〃The　whole　movement　was　controlled　by　him；　half　the　world　was　ready　to　rise　for　him。　But　there　were　just　five　people；　perhaps；　who　would　have　resisted　him　。　。　。　and　the　old　devil　put　them　on　the　Supreme　Council；　to　waste　their　time　in　watching　each　other。　Idiots　that　we　are；　he　planned　the　whole　of　our　idiocies！　Sunday　knew　that　the　Professor　would　chase　Syme　through　London；　and　that　Syme　would　fight　me　in　France。　And　he　was　combining　great　masses　of　capital；　and　seizing　great　lines　of　telegraphy；　while　we　five　idiots　were　running　after　each　other　like　a　lot　of　confounded　babies　playing　blind　man's　buff。〃
  〃Well？〃　asked　Syme　with　a　sort　of　steadiness。
  〃Well；〃　replied　the　other　with　sudden　serenity；　〃he　has　found　us　playing　blind　man's　buff　today　in　a　field　of　great　rustic　beauty　and　extreme　solitude。　He　has　probably　captured　the　world；　it　only　remains　to　him　to　capture　this　field　and　all　the　fools　in　it。　And　since　you　really　want　to　know　what　was　my　objection　to　the　arrival　of　that　train；　I　will　tell　you。　My　objection　was　that　Sunday　or　his　Secretary　has　just　this　moment　got　out　of　it。〃
  Syme　uttered　an　involuntary　cry；　and　they　all　turned　their　eyes　towards　the　far…off　station。　It　was　quite　true　that　a　considerable　bulk　of　people　seemed　to　be　moving　in　their　direction。　But　they　were　too　distant　to　be　distinguished　in　any　way。
  〃It　was　a　habit　of　the　late　Marquis　de　St。　Eustache；〃　said　the　new　policeman；　producing　a　leather　case；　〃always　to　carry　a　pair　of　opera　glasses。　Either　the　President　or　the　Secretary　is　coming　after　us　with　that　mob。　They　have　caught　us　in　a　nice　quiet　place　where　we　are　under　no　temptations　to　break　our　oaths　by　calling　the　police。　Dr。　Bull；　I　have　a　suspicion　that　you　will　see　better　through　these　than　through　your　own　highly　decorative　spectacles。〃
  He　handed　the　field…glasses　to　the　Doctor；　who　immediately　took　off　his　spectacles　and　put　the　apparatus　to　his　eyes。
  〃It　cannot　be　as　bad　as　you　say；〃　said　the　Professor；　somewhat　shaken。　〃There　are　a　good　number　of　them　certainly；　but　they　may　easily　be　ordinary　tourists。〃
  〃Do　ordinary　tourists；〃　asked　Bull；　with　the　fieldglasses　to　his　eyes；　〃wear　black　masks　half…way　down　the　face？〃
  Syme　almost　tore　the　glasses　out　of　his　hand；　and　looked　through　them。　Most　men　in　the　advancing　mob　really　looked　ordinary　enough；　but　it　was　quite　true　that　two　or　three　of　the　leaders　in　front　wore　black　half…masks　almost　down　to　their　mouths。　This　disguise　is　very　complete；　especially　at　such　a　distance；　and　Syme　found　it　impossible　to　conclude　anything　from　the　clean…shaven　jaws　and　chins　of　the　men　talking　in　the　front。　But　presently　as　they　talked　they　all　smiled　and　one　of　them　smiled　on　one　side。
  CHAPTER　XI
  THE　CRIMINALS　CHASE　THE　POLICE
  SYME　put　the　field…glasses　from　his　eyes　with　an　almost　ghastly　relief。
  〃The　President　is　not　with　them；　anyhow；〃　he　said；　and　wiped　his　forehead。
  〃But　surely　they　are　right　away　on　the　horizon；〃　said　the　bewildered　Colonel；　blinking　and　but　half　recovered　from　Bull's　hasty　though　polite　explanation。　〃Could　you　possibly　know　your　President　among　all　those　people？〃
  〃Could　I　know　a　white　elephant　among　all　those　people！〃　answered　Syme　somewhat　irritably。　〃As　you　very　truly　say；　they　are　on　the　horizon；　but　if　he　were　walking　with　them　。　。　。　by　God！　I　believe　this　ground　would　shake。〃
  After　an　instant's　pause　the　new　man　called　Ratcliffe　said　with　gloomy　decision
  〃Of　course　the　President　isn't　with　them。　I　wish　to　Gemini　he　were。　Much　more　likely　the　President　is　riding　in　triumph　through　Paris；　or　sitting　on　the　ruins　of　St。　Paul's　Cathedral。〃
  〃This　is　absurd！〃　said　Syme。　〃Something　may　have　happened　in　our　absence；　but　he　cannot　have　carried　the　world　with　a　rush　like　that。　It　is　quite　true；〃　he　added；　frowning　dubiously　at　the　distant　fields　that　lay　towards　the　little　station；　〃it　is　certainly　true　that　there　seems　to　be　a　crowd　coming　this　way；　but　they　are　not　all　the　army　that　you　make　out。〃
  〃Oh；　they；〃　said　the　new　detective　contemptuously；　〃no　they　are　not　a　very　valuable　force。　But　let　me　tell　you　frankly　that　they　are　precisely　calculated　to　our　valuewe　are　not　much；　my　boy；　in　Sunday's　universe。　He　has　got　hold　of　all　the　cables　and　telegraphs　himself。　But　to　kill　the　Supreme　Council　he　regards　as　a　trivial　matter；　like　a　post　card；　it　may　be　left　to　his　private　secretary；〃　and　he　spat　on　the　grass。
  Then　he　turned　to　the　others　and　said　somewhat　austerely
  〃There　is　a　great　deal　to　be　said　for　death；　but　if　anyone　has　any　preference　for　the　other　alternative；　I　strongly　advise　him　to　walk　after　me。〃
  With　these　words；　he　turned　his　broad　back　and　strode　with　silent　energy　towards　the　wood。　The　others　gave　one　glance　over　their　shoulders；　and　saw　that　the　dark　cloud　of　men　had　detached　itself　from　the　station　and　was　moving　with　a　mysterious　discipline　across　the　plain。　They　saw　already；　even　with　the　naked　eye；　black　blots　on　the　foremost　faces；　which　marked　the　masks　they　wore。　They　turned　and　followed　their　leader；　who　had　already　struck　the　wood；　and　disappeared　among　the　twinkling　trees。
  The　sun　on　the　grass　was　dry　and　hot。　So　in　plunging　into　the　wood　they　had　a　cool　shock　of　shadow；　as　of　divers　who　plunge　into　a　dim　pool。　The　inside　of　the　wood　was　full　of　shattered　sunlight　and　shaken　shadows。　They　made　a　sort　of　shuddering　veil；　almost　recalling　the　dizziness　of　a　cinematograph。　Even　the　solid　figures　walking　with　him　Syme　could　hardly　see　for　the　patterns　of　sun　and　shade　that　danced　upon　them。　Now　a　man's　head　was　lit　as　with　a　light　of　Rembrandt；　leaving　all　else　obliterated；　now　again　he　had　strong　and　staring　white　hands　with　the　face　of　a　negro。　The　ex…Marquis　had　pulled　the　old　straw　hat　over　his　eyes；　and　the　black　shade　of　the　brim　cut　his　face　so　squarely　in　two　that　it　seemed　to　be　wearing　one　of　the　black　half…masks　of　their　pursuers。　The　fancy　tinted　Syme's　overwhelming　sense　of　wonder。　Was　he　wearing　a　mask？　Was　anyone　wearing　a　mask？　Was　anyone　anything？　This　wood　of　witchery；　in　which　men's　faces　turned　black　and　white　by　turns；　in　which　their　figures　first　swelled　into　sunlight　and　then　faded　into　formless　night；　this　mere　chaos　of　chiaroscuro　（after　the　clear　daylight　outside）；　seemed　to　Syme　a　perfect　symbol　of　the　world　in　which　he　had　been　moving　for　three　days；　this　world　where　men　took　off　their　beards　and　their　spectacles　and　their　noses；　and　turned　into　other　people。　That　tragic　self…confidence　which　he　had　felt　when　he　believed　that　the　Marquis　was　a　devil　had　strangely　disappeared　now　that　he　knew　that　the　Marquis　was　a　friend。　He　felt　almost　inclined　to　ask　after　all　these　bewilderments　what　was　a　friend　and　what　an　enemy。　Was　there　anything　that　was　apart　from　what　it　seemed？　The　Marquis　had　taken　off　his　nose　and　turned　out　to　be　a　detective。　Might　he　not　just　as　well　take　off　his　head　and　turn　out　to　be　a　hobgoblin？　Was　not　everything；　after　all；　like　this　bewildering　woodland；　this　dance　of　dark　and　light？　Everything　only　a　glimpse；　the　glimpse　always　unforeseen；　and　always　forgotten。　For　Gabriel　Syme　had　found　in　the　heart　of　that　sun…splashed　wood　what　many　modern　painters　had　found　there。　He　had　found　the　thing　which　the　modern　people　call　Impressionism；　which　is　another　name　for　that　final　scepticism　which　can　find　no　floor　to　the　universe。
  As　a　man　in　an　evil　dream　strains　himself　to　scream　and　wake；　Syme　strove　with　a　sudden　effort　to　fling　off　this　last　and　worst　of　his　fancies。　With　two　impatient　strides　he　overtook　the　man　in　the　Marquis's　straw　hat；　the　man　whom　he　had　come　to　address　as　Ratcliffe。　In　a　voice　exaggeratively　loud　and　cheerful；　he　broke　the　bottomless　silence　and　made　conversation。
  〃May　I　ask；〃　he　said；　〃where　on　earth　we　are　all　going　to？　〃
  So　genuine　had　been　the　doubts　of　his　soul；　that　he　was　quite　glad　to　hear　his　companion　speak　in　an　easy；　human　voice。
  〃We　must　get　down　through　the　town　of　Lancy　to　the　sea；〃　he　said。　〃I　think　that　part　of　the　country　is　least　likely　to　be　with　them。〃
  〃What　can　you　mean　by　all　this？〃　cried　Syme。　〃They　can't　be　running　the　real　world　in　that　way。　Surely　not　many　working　men　are　anarchists；　and　surely　if　they　were；　mere　mobs　could　not　beat　modern　a