are strange things doing on the Continent."

"In America," Hamel remarked, "they affect to look upon England as
a doomed Power."

"Not altogether supine yet," Mr. Fentolin observed, "yet even this
last generation has seen weakening. We have lost so much
self-reliance. Perhaps it is having these grown-up children who we
think can take care of us--Canada and Australia, and the others.
However, we will not talk of politics. It bores you, I can see.
We will try and find some other subject. Now tell me, don't you
think this is ingenious?"

They had reached the foot of the hill upon which the Hall was
situated. In front of them, underneath the terrace, was a little
iron gate, held open now by Meekins, who had gone on ahead and
dismounted from his bicycle.

"I have a subterranean way from here into the Hall," Mr. Fentolin
explained. "Come with me. You will only have to stoop a little,
and it may amuse you. You need not be afraid. There are electric
lights every ten yards. I turn them on with this switch--see."

Mr. Fentolin touched a button in the wall, and the place was at
once brilliantly illuminated. A little row of lights from the
ceiling and the walls stretched away as far as one could see. They
passed through the iron gates, which shut behind them with a click.
Stooping a little, Hamel was still able to walk by the side of the
man in the chair. They traversed about a hundred yards of
subterranean way. Here and there a fungus hung down from the wall,