“I’d better make them some coffee,” Kuzenda decided, and went below.

“Now then, youngsters,” Brych shouted to the boat. “To the left! Left! Give us your hand, lass. There we are. Up she comes!”

“Me and Joe,” the girl announced on reaching the deck, “we—we’d like to——”

“Good evening,” said the young workman who climbed up after her. “Where is Mr. Kuzenda?”

“Mr. Kuzenda is making coffee,” said the stoker. “Take a seat. Look, there’s someone else coming across. Is that you, baker?”

“That’s me,” a voice rang back. “Good evening, Mr. Brych. I’ve got the postman and the gamekeeper with me.”

“Come up then, brothers,” said Mr. Brych. “We can begin while Mr. Kuzenda is getting the coffee ready. Who else is coming?”

“I am,” came a voice from the side of the dredge. “My name’s Hudec, and I’d very much like to hear you.”

“You are very welcome, Mr. Hudec,” the stoker shouted down. “Come up, will you?—there’s a ladder here. Half a minute and I’ll give you a hand, Mr. Hudec, seeing you’ve never been here before.”

“Mr. Brych,” three people shouted from the bank. “Send the boat across for us, will you? We’d like to come over.”

“Go and fetch them over, you below,” said Mr. Brych, “that all may hear the word of God. Brothers and sister, please sit down. It’s not dirty here now that we do our heating with a Karburator. Brother Kuzenda will bring you some coffee, and then we can start. Welcome, young people. Come right up.” With this Mr. Brych took, his place by the opening down which ran the ladder to the interior of the dredge. “Halloa there, Kuzenda, ten on deck.”

“Right!” cried a beard-muffled voice from the depths. “I’m just bringing it.”

“Come, friends, sit down,” said Brych, briskly indicating suitable seats. “Mr. Hudec, we have nothing but coffee here; I don’t expect you’ll mind.”

“Why should I?” returned Mr. Hudec. “I just wanted to see your—to be present at your—séance.”

“Our service,” Brych mildly corrected him. “We are all brothers, here, you know. Let me tell you, Mr. Hudec, that I was a drunkard and Kuzenda was in politics, and the grace of God came upon us, and our brethren and sisters here,” he said pointing round him, “come to us in the evenings to pray for the same gift of the spirit. The baker here had asthma, and Kuzenda cured him. Come now, baker, tell us yourself how it happened.”

“Kuzenda laid hands on me,” said the baker softly and rapturously, “and all at once such a feeling of warmth began to pour through my chest. You know, something just snapped in me, and I began to breathe as if I was flying about in the sky.”