acclaims us, comrades, its redeemers!"

"Lieber Gott!" the German breathed. "Colossal!"

"'Ear, 'ear!" the Englishman applauded, perfunctory and skeptical. "Bli'me
if you didn't mike me forget where I was--'ad me thinking I was in 'Yde
Park, you did, listening to a bloody horator on a box."

"You may laugh," Thirteen replied with a sour glance; "but when you have
heard, you will not laugh. I am not boasting--I am telling you."

"Not a great deal," the Irishman suggested. "Your mouth is full of sounds
and fury, but till you tell us more you'll have told us nothing."

The face of Thirteen grew darker still, and for a moment he seemed to
meditate an angry retort; but he thought better of it, contenting himself
with an impatient movement and a mutter: "All in good time; Number One is
not here yet."

"W'y wyste time w'itin' for 'im?" demanded the Englishman. "'E's no good,
'e's done."

Thirteen's eyes narrowed. "How so?"

"'E's done, Number One is--finished, counted out, napoo! 'E's 'ad 'is d'y,
and a pretty mess 'e's mide of it--and it's 'igh time, I say, for 'im to
step down and let a better man tike 'old."

Growls in chorus endorsed this declaration of mutiny; but suddenly were
stilled by a voice, sonorous and calm, from outside the circle: