The place of meeting was the original cave, which had been enlarged to form a somewhat spacious room, from which there had been run back into the hill a tunnel.
At the entrance to this tunnel a short cross-tunnel had been cut, with an exit on the side of the hill and at right angles to the mouth.

Across the ravine from the cave stood a small log building which Messrs.

Rosenblatt and Sprink had used as an office during the month of their regime.

Further down the ravine were scattered the workmen's cabins, now deserted.
In the preparing of plans for this last meeting Rosenblatt and Sprink spent long hours that day.

Indeed, it was late in the afternoon when their conference broke up.
An hour later found Malkarski, pale and breathless, at the door of Portnoff's cabin, unable to recover his speech till Portnoff had primed him with a mug of Sprink's best whiskey.
"What is it, my brother ?" cried Portnoff, alarmed at his condition.
"What is it ?" "A plot!" gasped Malkarski, "a most damnable plot! Give me another drink." Under the stimulus of the potent liquid, Malkarski was able in a few minutes between his gasps to tell his story.