an to suffer, for he had never before been on his
legs on a platform, or even on a platform at all. He could see nothing
whatever except a cloud that had mysteriously and with frightful
suddenness filled the room. And through this cloud he could feel that
hundreds and hundreds of eyes were piercingly fixed upon him. A voice
was saying inside him--"What a fool you are! What a fool you are! I
always told you you were a fool!" And his heart was beating as it had
never beat, and his forehead was damp, his throat distressingly dry, and
one foot nervously tap-tapping on the floor. This condition lasted for
something like ten hours, during which time the eyes continued to pierce
the cloud and him with patient, obstinate cruelty.

Denry heard some one talking. It was himself.

The Superintendent had said: "I have very great pleasure in proposing
the vote of thanks to the Countess of Chell."

And so Denry heard himself saying: "I have very great pleasure in
seconding the vote of thanks to the Countess of Chell."

He could not think of anything else to say. And there was a pause, a
real pause, not a pause merely in Denry's sick imagination.

Then the cloud was dissipated. And Denry himself said to the audience of
policemen, with his own natural tone, smile and gesture, colloquially,
informally, comically:

"Now then! Move along there, please! I'm not going to say any more!"

And for a signal he put his hands in the position for applauding. And
sat down.

He had tickled the stout ribs of every bobby in the place. The applause
surpassed all previous applause. The most staid ornaments of the
platform had to laugh. People nudged each other and explained that it
was "that chap Machin from Bursley," as if to imply that that chap
Machin from Bursley never let a day pass without doing something
striking and humorous. The Mayor was still smiling when he put the vote
to the meeting, and the Countess was still smiling when she responded.

Afterwards in the portico, when everything was over, Denry exercised his
right to remain in charge of the Countess. They escaped from the
personages by going out to look for her carriage and neglecting to
return. There was no sign of the Countess's carriage, but Denry's mule
and victoria were waiting in a quiet corner.

"May I drive you home?" he suggested.

But she would not. She said that she had a call to pay before dinner,
and that her brougham would surely arrive the very next minute.

"