” “Go!” he said. Here was a poor half-naked creature, with a straw crown on his head, and a wooden sceptre in his hand, seated on the ground with all the dignity of a monarch on his throne. Her safety lay in pretense—that what she saw was as a tale twice told. When he comes he will do that raid of the pantechnicons the justice it deserves; he will picture the orderly evening scene about the Imperial Legislature in convincing detail, the coming and going of cabs and motor-cabs and broughams through the chill, damp evening into New Palace Yard, the reinforced but untroubled and unsuspecting police about the entries of those great buildings whose square and panelled Victorian Gothic streams up from the glare of the lamps into the murkiness of the night; Big Ben shining overhead, an unassailable beacon, and the incidental traffic of Westminster, cabs, carts, and glowing omnibuses going to and from the bridge. " "You are right," replied Darrell; "the weakness is past. "I will be there at the time. I—well, I lost my temper. The walls of the room were lined with shelves, on which were glass jars, retorts, countless bottles and many appliances of surgical science. ” He stood before her, his hat in his hand, his head bent, his voice lowered to a convenient pitch.
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