"Temporarily," the sweet voice continued, "you will be affiliated
with the London Lodge, to whom you will look for instructions.
These will reach you almost immediately. There is great work to
be done in England. It has been decided, however, that you shall
be transferred as quickly as possible in our New York Lodge. You
will await orders. Only Fire is eternal."
Again the voice ceased. But, Nicol Brinn remained silent:
"Your reply is awaited."
"Fire is life," replied Nicol Brinn.
The blue tongue of flame subsided, lower and lower, and finally
disappeared, so that the apartment became enwrapped in absolute
darkness. A faint rustling sound suggested that a heavy curtain
had been lowered, and almost immediately the doors behind Nicol
Brinn were opened again by Rama Dass.
"We congratulate you, brother," he said, extending his hand. "Yet
the ordeal was no light one, for all the force of the Fire was
focussed upon you."
Nicol Brinn reentered the room where the shaded lamp stood upon
the writing table. In the past he had moved unscathed through
peril unknown to the ordinary man. He was well acquainted with
the resources of the organization whose agents, unseen,
surrounded him in that remote country house, but that their
pretensions were extravagant his present immunity would seem to
prove.
If the speaker with the strangely arresting voice were indeed
that Fire-Tongue whose mere name was synonymous with dread in
certain parts of the East, then Fire-Tongue was an impostor.
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