For a long time there was a silence, broken only by the rustle of papers and an occasional word of explanation from the German. Then Tommy heard the light tap-tap of fingers, drumming on the table.

“And⁠—the date, my friend?” said Number One.

“The 29th.”

The Russian seemed to consider:

“That is rather soon.”

“I know. But it was settled by the principal Labour leaders, and we cannot seem to interfere too much. They must believe it to be entirely their own show.”

The Russian laughed softly, as though amused.

“Yes, yes,” he said. “That is true. They must have no inkling that we are using them for our own ends. They are honest men⁠—and that is their value to us. It is curious⁠—but you cannot make a revolution without honest men. The instinct of the populace is infallible.” He paused, and then repeated, as though the phrase pleased him: “Every revolution has had its honest men. They are soon disposed of afterwards.”

There was a sinister note in his voice.

The German resumed:

“Clymes must go. He is too farseeing. Number Fourteen will see to that.”

There was a hoarse murmur.

“That’s all right, gov’nor.” And then after a moment or two: “Suppose I’m nabbed.”