and the list of speakers
he included Chard's name.

At twenty minutes past eight the first speaker began. He finished at a
quarter to nine and two others carried on the debate till half-past.
The second of them had reached his peroration. The audience paid
little heed to his anxiety about the ship of state. Where the devil
was Chard? That was all that mattered. Was Chard really lying gagged
and throttled in a ditch?

The speaker sat down and the expectant audience forgot to applaud.
There was a pause, followed by much pushing and heaving among the crowd
at the door. Suddenly Chard was shot on to the floor of the house. He
wore a rough grey suit and was liberally splashed with mud. But he
walked quietly to his throne and took his seat by the immaculate
President.

"The Junior Librarian," announced the President without the slightest
sign of emotion. It is not for presidents to be human, and Marshall
knew his business.

There was a great roar of joy as Chard, foul with mire, advanced to the
despatch-box. "I must apologise, sir," he began, "for my late and
unkempt appearance. I have been with friends. (_Cheers._) With very
dear friends who would not hear of my going. That is the worst of
friends. They are sometimes so pressing. (_Uproar._) But I would
have been earlier and in a more cleanly state had not another friend,
in his eagerness to save me from my first friends, been over-hasty.
Perhaps he meant it as a compliment to our honourable and gallant
visitor when he compelled me to lie, providentially not to die, in the
last ditch." (_Prolonged applause._) Bavin's 'last ditch' speech had
been his most notable success. Then Chard proceeded to welcome Bavin,
as was his duty, and to trample on him, as was his pleasure. Not even
the wet bed of a Hinksey ditch could damp Chard's democratic fervour or
blunt the brilliancy of his wit. He had not forgotten his impromptus:
in the ditch he had even devised a new one. For half-an-hour he scored
point after point. He surpassed himself, he was unique. Possibly, if
he had always taken the red wine of Burgundy for his dinner, he would
always have spoken like this.

Martin, himself foul with mud, stood in the crowd. He thrilled with
the sense of triumph. He remembered the night on which he had fought
for Gideon and the Lord. It was adventure once again, terrifying and
superb. And again he had been on the winning side.

Bavin, K.C., M.P., came as an an