to a seat. He staggered. He sat down heavily and
covered his face with his hands; he was trembling violently, his nervous
control was at an end. He was relieved of his cloak, he could not
remember how; his purple hose he saw were black with wet. People were
running about him, things were happening, but for some time he gave no
heed to them.

He had escaped. A myriad of cries told him that. He was safe. These were
the people who were on his side. For a space he sobbed for breath,
and then he sat still with his face covered. The air was full of the
shouting of innumerable men.

CHAPTER IX. THE PEOPLE MARCH

He became aware of someone urging a glass of clear fluid upon his
attention, looked up and discovered this was a dark young man in a
yellow garment. He took the dose forthwith, and in a moment he was
glowing. A tall man in a black robe stood by his shoulder, and pointed
to the half open door into the hall. This man was shouting close to
his ear and yet what was said was indistinct because of the tremendous
uproar from the great theatre. Behind the man was a girl in a silvery
grey robe, whom Graham, even in this confusion, perceived to be
beautiful. Her dark eyes, full of wonder and curiosity,-were fixed on
him, her lips trembled apart. A partially opened door gave a glimpse
of the crowded hall, and admitted a vast uneven tumult, a hammering,
clapping and shouting that died away and began again, and rose to a
thunderous pitch, and so continued intermittently all the time that
Graham remained in the little room. He watched the lips of the man in
black and gathered that he was making some clumsy explanation.

He stared stupidly for some moments at these things and then stood up
abruptly; he grasped the arm of this shouting person.

"Tell me!" he cried. "Who am I? Who am I?"

The others came nearer to hear his words. "Who am I?" His eyes searched
their faces.

"They have told him nothing!" cried the girl.

"Tell me, tell me!" cried Graham.

"You are the Master of the Earth. You are owner of half the world."

He did not believe he heard aright. He resisted the persuasion. He
pretended not to understand, not to hear. He lifted his voice again. "I
have been awake three days--a prisoner three days. I judge there is some
struggle between a number of people in this city--it is London?"

"Yes," said the younger man.

"And those who meet in the great hall with the white Atlas? How does it
concern me? In some way