owd, held together by tense
excitement: all eyes fixed on the silent illuminated building whence
the news would come. Across one window on the second floor was a large
white patch, blank and sphinx-like. At right angles to one end of the
block ran the High Street and the tall, blazing trams passed up and
down and all eyes in the trams strained for a transient glimpse of the
patch, hoping that it would flare out into message.

Presently a man was seen to dash from the interior of the hall into the
lobby, casting words at the waiting figures, who clamoured eagerly and
disappeared within, just as the man broke through the folding doors and
appeared at the top of the steps beneath the portico. The great crowd
surged and groaned, and the word was quickly passed from rank to rank.

"Savelli. Thirteen hundred and seventy majority." And then there burst
out wild cheers and the crowd broke into a myriad little waves like a
choppy sea. Men danced and shouted and clapped each other on the back,
and the tall facade of the street opposite the hall was a-flutter.
Suddenly the white patch leaped into an illumination proclaiming the
figures.

Savelli--6,135.

Finn--4,765.

Again the wild cheering rose, and then the great double windows in the
centre of the first floor of the Town Hall were flung open and Paul,
surrounded by the mayor and officials, appeared.

Paul gripped the iron hand-rail and looked down upon the tumultuous
scene, his ears deafened by the roar, his eyes dazed by the conflicting
lights and the million swift reflections from moving faces and arms and
hats and handkerchiefs. The man is not born who can receive unmoved a
frenzied public ovation. A lump rose in his throat. After all, this
delirium of joy was sincere. He stood for the moment the idol of the
populace. For him this vast concourse of human beings had waited in
rain and mud and now became a deafening, seething welter of human
passion. He gripped the rail tighter and closed his eyes. He heard as
in a dream the voice of the mayor behind him: "Say a few words. They
won't hear you--but that doesn't matter."

Then Paul drew himself up, facing the whirling scene. He sought in his
pockets and suddenly shot up his hand, holding a letter, and awaited a
lull in the uproar. He was master of himself now. He had indeed words
to say, deliberately prepared, and he knew that if he could get a
hearing he would say them as deliberately. At last came comparative
calm.