that it caught the rhythm of an engine's throbbing--the engine he could
have imagined of some great train of events that bore down upon him.
Then a descendant flight of sharper beats broke up that effect, and were
repeated.

"Come in," he cried, perceiving that some one rapped, and the door that
was big enough for a cathedral opened slowly a little way. The new winch
ceased to creak, and Bensington appeared in the crack, gleaming
benevolently under his protruded baldness and over his glasses.

"I've ventured round to _see_," he whispered in a confidentially furtive
manner.

"Come in," said Redwood, and he did, shutting the door behind him.

He walked forward, hands behind his back, advanced a few steps, and
peered up with a bird-like movement at the dimensions about him. He
rubbed his chin thoughtfully.

"Every time I come in," he said, with a subdued note in his voice, "it
strikes me as--'_Big_.'"

"Yes," said Redwood, surveying it all again also, as if in an endeavour
to keep hold of the visible impression. "Yes. They're going to be big
too, you know."

"I know," said Bensington, with a note that was nearly awe. "_Very_
big."

They looked at one another, almost, as it were, apprehensively.