ted to understand and could not. Someone
was clutching about his thighs, he was being hoisted in spite of his
vigorous efforts. He understood suddenly, he ceased to struggle. He was
lifted up on men's shoulders and carried away from that devouring panel.
Ten thousand throats were cheering.

He saw men in blue and black hurrying after the retreating Ostrogites
and firing. Lifted up, he saw now across the whole expanse of the hall
beneath the Atlas image, saw that he was being carried towards the
raised platform in the centre of the place. The far end of the hall was
already full of people running towards him. They were looking at him and
cheering.

He became aware that a sort of body-guard surrounded him. Active
men about him shouted vague orders. He saw close at hand the black
moustached man in yellow who had been among those who had greeted him
in the public theatre, shouting directions. The hall was already densely
packed with swaying people, the little metal gallery sagged with a
shouting load, the curtains at the end had been torn away, and the
ante-chamber was revealed densely crowded. He could scarcely make the
man near him hear for the tumult about them. "Where has Ostrog gone?" he
asked.

The man he questioned pointed over the heads towards the lower panels
about the hall on the side opposite the gap. They stood open and
armed men, blue clad with black sashes, were running through them and
vanishing into the chambers and passages beyond. It seemed to Graham
that a sound of firing drifted through the riot. He was carried in a
staggering curve across the great hall towards an opening beneath the
gap.

He perceived men working with a sort of rude discipline to keep the
crowd off him, to make a space clear about him. He passed out of the
hall, and saw a crude, new wall rising blankly before him topped by blue
sky. He was swung down to his feet; someone gripped his arm and guided
him. He found the man in yellow close at hand. They were taking him up
a narrow stairway of brick, and close at hand rose the great red painted
masses, the cranes and levers and the still engines of the big building
machine.

He was at the top of the steps. He was hurried across a narrow railed
footway, and suddenly with a vast shouting the amphitheatre of ruins
opened again before him. "The Master is with us! The Master! The
Master!" The shout swept athwart the lake of faces like a wave, broke
against the distant cliff of ruins, and