w. For a moment he
stood regarding these things, and Asano overtook him.

"Ostrog," said Asano, "will be in the small offices beyond there." The
little man looked livid now and his eyes searched Graham's face.

They had scarcely advanced ten paces from the curtain before a little
panel to the left of the Atlas rolled up, and Ostrog, accompanied by
Lincoln and followed by two black and yellow clad negroes, appeared
crossing the remote corner of the hall, towards a second panel that was
raised and open. "Ostrog," shouted Graham, and at the sound of his voice
the little party turned astonished.

Ostrog said something to Lincoln and advanced alone.

Graham was the first to speak. His voice was loud and dictatorial. "What
is this I hear?" he asked. "Are you bringing negroes here--to keep the
people down?"

"It is none too soon," said Ostrog. "They have been getting out of hand
more and more, since the revolt. I under-estimated--"

"Do you mean that these infernal negroes are on the way?"

"On the way. As it is, you have seen the people--outside?"

"No wonder! But--after what was said. You have taken too much on
yourself, Ostrog."

Ostrog said nothing, but drew nearer.

"These negroes must not come to London," said Graham. "I am Master and
they shall not come."

Ostrog glanced at Lincoln, who at once came towards them with his two
attendants close behind him. "Why not?" asked Ostrog.

"White men must be mastered by white men. Besides--"

"The negroes are only an instrument."

"But that is not the question. I am the Master. I mean to be the Master.
And I tell you these negroes shall not come."

"The people--"

"I believe in the people."

"Because you are an anachronism. You are a man out of the Past--an
accident. You are Owner perhaps of half the property in the world. But
you are not Master. You do not know enough to be Master."

He glanced at Lincoln again. "I know now what you think--I can guess
something of what you mean to do. Even now it is not too late to warn
you. You dream of human equality--of a socialistic order--you have all
those worn-out dreams of the nineteenth century fresh and vivid in your
mind, and you would rule this age that you do not understand."

"Listen!" said Graham. "You can hear it--a sound like the sea. Not
voices--but a voice. Do you altogether understand?"

"We taught them that," said Ostrog.

"Perhaps. Can you teach them to forget it? But enough of this! These
negroes