ept his grip of Graham's arm.

"We have raised the people," he said. "We have given them arms. For
today at least their wishes must be law."

Lincoln held the Curtain open for Graham and Ostrog to pass through.

On his way to the markets Graham had a transitory glance of a long
narrow white-walled room in which men in the universal blue canvas
were carrying covered things like biers, and about which men in medical
purple hurried to and fro. From this room came groans and wailing.
He had an impression of an empty blood-stained couch, of men on other
couches, bandaged and blood-stained. It was just a glimpse from a railed
footway and then a buttress hid the place and they were going on towards
the markets.

The roar of the multitude was near now: it leapt to thunder. And,
arresting his attention, a fluttering of black banners, the waving of
blue canvas and brown rags, and the swarming vastness of the theatre
near the public markets came into view down a long passage. The picture
opened out. He perceived they were entering the great theatre of his
first appearance, the great theatre he had last seen as a chequer-work
of glare and blackness in his flight from the red police. This time he
entered it along a gallery at a level high above the stage. The place
was now brilliantly lit again. He sought the gangway up which he had
fled, but he could not tell it from among its dozens of fellows; nor
could he see anything of the smashed seats, deflated cushions, and such
like traces of the fight because of the density of the people. Except
the stage the whole place was closely packed. Looking down the effect
was a vast area of stippled pink, each dot a still upturned face
regarding him. At his appearance with Ostrog the cheering died away, the
singing died away, a common interest stilled and unified the disorder.
It seemed as though every individual of those myriads was watching him.

CHAPTER XIII. THE END OF THE OLD ORDER

So far as Graham was able to judge, it was near midday when the white
banner of the Council fell. But some hours had to elapse before it was
possible to effect the formal capitulation, and so after he had spoken
his "Word" he retired to his new apartments in the wind-vane offices.
The continuous excitement of the last twelve hours had left him
inordinately fatigued, even his curiosity was exhausted; for a space he
sat inert and passive with open eyes, and for a space he slept. He
was roused by two med