at its author ever gave us of a speech
which, in the space of four minutes, turned a half-maddened election mob
into a silent, a sympathetic, and (I heard afterwards) a deeply moved
body of sober human beings.

"What happened next?" asked Kitty, who had rejoined us. (Phillis was
still sleeping sweetly, she said.)

"After that I hauled old Stridge on to the balcony again and gave him a
congratulatory hand-shake, _coram populo_, on your behalf. Then I
retired and slipped out by a back way and came here. Stridge was in full
eruption again when I left----"

Dolly held up her hand.

"What is that curious noise?" she said.

"It's outside," said Kitty.

Gerald went to the window and lifted the blind. Then he turned to us.

"I say," he said in an unusual voice, "come here a minute."

We drew up the blind and surveyed the scene before us.

Two minutes before the moon had shone upon an untrodden expanse of snow.
Now the Close was black with people. There must have been two or three
thousand. They stood there in the gleaming moonlight, silent,
motionless, like an army of phantoms. At their head and forefront--I
could see the moonlight glitter on his watch-chain, which lay in a most
favourable position for lunar reflection--stood the newly elected Member
for Stoneleigh, Mr Alderman Stridge.

Simultaneously there was a knock at the door, and the hall-porter of the
hotel appeared.

"Mr Stridge's compliments, sir, and he would like to have a word with
you."

"Go down quickly, Adrian," said Kitty anxiously. "They'll wake Philly!"

I descended without a word, and passed out into the Close from a French
window on the ground floor.

I glanced up in the direction of our rooms and noticed that my party
were standing on the balcony outside the sitting-room. I could see
Kitty's anxious face. But she need have had no fear.

Mr Stridge advanced towards me, silk hat in hand. Behind him stood a
variety of Stoneleigh worthies, and I had time to notice that the group
was composed of an indiscriminate mixture of friends and foes.

"Mr Inglethwaite, sir," said Stridge, "I should like to shake you by the
hand."

He did so, as did a few of those immediately around us, in perfect
silence. I wondered what was coming.

"That is all, sir," said Stridge simply, and not without a certain
dignity. "We shall move off now. We did you a wrong to-night, and we all
of us"--he indicated the motionless multitude with a sweep of his
hand--"agr