That
is why he has sent. He is at the wind-vane offices directing. The people
are marching."
"In your name," shouted the younger man. "They have ruled, crushed,
tyrannised. At last even--"
"In my name! My name! Master?"
The younger man suddenly became audible in a pause of the outer thunder,
indignant and vociferous, a high penetrating voice under his red
aquiline nose and bushy moustache. "No one expected you to wake. No one
expected you to wake. They were cunning. Damned tyrants! But they were
taken by surprise. They did not know whether to drug you, hypnotise you,
kill you."
Again the hall dominated everything.
"Ostrog is at the wind-vane offices ready--. Even now there is a rumour
of fighting beginning."
The man who had called himself Lincoln came close to him. "Ostrog has it
planned. Trust him. We have our organisations ready. We shall seize the
flying stages--. Even now he may be doing that. Then--"
"This public theatre," bawled the man in yellow, "is only a contingent.
We have five myriads of drilled men--"
"We have arms," cried Lincoln. "We have plans. A leader. Their police
have gone from the streets and are massed in the--" (inaudible). "It is
now or never. The Council is rocking--They cannot trust even their
drilled men--"
"Hear the people calling to you!"
Graham's mind was like a night of moon and swift clouds, now dark and
hopeless, now clear and ghastly. He was Master of the Earth, he was a man
sodden with thawing snow.
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