he is typical, therefore, of death--the shedding of blood--as a result
of wisdom, this thought being an elaboration of Solomon's great maxim,
"in much wisdom is much sorrow." But how accurately all this fitted in
with what would naturally be the doctrines of the men on whose track I
was! I could no longer doubt the justness of my reasonings, and
immediately, while you slept, I set off for London.

'Of my haps in London I need not give you a very particular account.
The meeting was to be held on the 15th, and by the morning of the 13th
I had reached a place called Wargrave, on the Thames. There I hired a
light canoe, and thence proceeded down the river in a somewhat zig-zag
manner, narrowly examining the banks on either side, and keeping a
sharp out-look for some board, or sign, or house, that would seem to
betoken any sort of connection with the word "Aesopi." In this way I
passed a fruitless day, and having reached the shipping region, made
fast my craft, and in a spirit of _diablerie_ spent the night in a
common lodging-house, in the company of the most remarkable human
beings, characterised by an odour of alcohol, and a certain obtrusive
_bonne camaraderie_ which the prevailing fear of death could not
altogether repress. By dawn of the 14th I was on my journey again--on,
and ever on. Eagerly I longed for a sight of the word I sought: but I
had misjudged the men against whose cunning I had measured my own. I
should have remembered more consistently that they were no ordinary
men. As I was destined to find, there lay a deeper, more cabalistic
meaning in the motto than any I had been able to dream of. I had
proceeded on my pilgrimage down the river a long way past Greenwich,
and had now reached a desolate and level reach of land stretching away
on either hand. Paddling my boat from the right to the left bank, I
came to a spot where a little arm of the river ran up some few yards
into the land. The place wore a specially dreary and deserted aspect: