Sunrise | Page 5

queer agents--that is admitted;
and you cannot have any large body of people without finding a few
scoundrels among them. I suppose one might even say that about your
very respectable Church of England. But you only bring a society into
disrepute--you rob it of much usefulness--you put the law and society
against it--when you make it the refuge of common murderers and
thieves."
"I should hope so," remarked George Brand. If this suspected foreigner
had resumed his ordinary manner, so had he; he was again the haughty,
suspicious, almost supercilious Englishman.
Poor Lord Evelyn! The lad looked quite distressed. These two men
were so obviously antipathetic that it seemed altogether hopeless to
think of their ever coming together.
"Well," said Mr. Lind, in his ordinary polished and easy manner, "I
must not seek to detain you; for it is a cold night to keep horses waiting.
But, Mr. Brand, Lord Evelyn dines with us to-morrow evening; if you
have nothing better to do, will you join our little party? My daughter, I
am sure, will be most pleased to make your acquaintance."
"Do, Brand, there's a good fellow;" struck in his friend. "I haven't seen
anything of you for such a long time."
"I shall be very happy indeed," said the tall Englishman, wondering
whether he was likely to meet a goodly assemblage of
sedition-mongers at this foreign persons table.
"We dine at a quarter to eight. The address is No. ---- Curzon Street;
but perhaps you had better take this card."

So they left, and were conducted down the staircase by the stout old
German; and scrambled up into the furs of the barouche.
"So he has a daughter?" said Brand, as the two friends together drove
down to Buckingham Street, where they were to dine at his rooms.
"Oh, yes; his daughter Natalie," said Lord Evelyn, eagerly. "I am so
glad you will see him to-morrow night!"
"And they live on Curzon Street," said the other, reflectively. "H'm!
Conspiracy does pay, then!"
CHAPTER II.
PLEADINGS.
"Brother Senior Warden, your place in the lodge?" said Mr. Brand,
looking at the small dinner-table.
"You forget," his companion said. "I am only in the nursery as yet--an
Illuminatus Minor, as it were. However, I don't think I can do better
than sit where Waters has put me; I can have a glimpse of the lights on
the river. But what an extraordinary place for you to come to for
rooms!"
They had driven down through the glare of the great city to this silent
and dark little thoroughfare, dismissed the carriage at the foot, climbed
up an old-fashioned oak staircase, and found themselves at last received
by an elderly person, who looked a good deal more like a bronzed old
veteran than an ordinary English butler.
"Halloo, Waters!" said Lord Evelyn. "How are you? I don't think I have
seen you since you threatened to murder the landlord at Cairo."
"No, my lord," said Mr. Waters, who seemed vastly pleased by this
reminiscence, and who instantly disappeared to summon dinner for the
two young men.

"Extraordinary?" said Brand, when they had got seated at table. "Oh no;
my constant craving is for air, space, light and quiet. Here I have all
these. Beneath are the Embankment gardens; beyond that, you see, the
river--those lights are the steamers at anchor. As for quiet, the lower
floors are occupied by a charitable society; so I fancied there would not
be much traffic on the stairs."
The jibe passed unheeded; Lord Evelyn had long ago become familiar
with his friend's way of speaking about men and things.
"And so, Evelyn, you have become a pupil of the revolutionaries,"
George Brand continued, when Waters had put some things before
them and retired--"a student of the fine art of stabbing people unawares?
What an astute fellow that Lind must be--I will swear it never occurred
to one of the lot before--to get an English milord into their ranks! A
stroke of genius! It could only have been projected by a great mind.
And then look at the effect throughout Europe if an English milord
were to be found with a parcel of Orsini bombs in his possession! every
ragamuffin from Naples to St. Petersburg would rejoice; the army of
cutthroats would march with a new swagger."
His companion said nothing; but there was a vexed and impatient look
on his face.
"And our little daughter--is she pretty? Does she coax the young men to
play with daggers?--the innocent little thing! And when you start with
your dynamite to break open a jail, she blows you a kiss?--the
charming little fairy! What is it she has embroidered on the ribbons
round her neck?--'_Mort aux rois_?' '_Sic semper tyrannis_?' No; I saw
a much prettier one somewhere the other