The flight of steps, twenty yards broad, used only in cases of emergency, resembled a gigantic black cataract nearly two hundred feet in height.

Each car as it drew up discharged more and more men and women, who ran like ants towards the assembly of their fellows.

The noise was indescribable, the shouting of men, the screaming of women, the clang and hoot of the huge machines, and three or four times the brazen cry of a trumpet, as an emergency door was flung open overhead, and a small swirl of crowd poured through it towards the streets beyond.

But after one look Percy looked no more at the people; for there, high up beneath the clock, on the Government signal board, flared out monstrous letters of fire, telling in Esperanto and English, the message for which England had grown sick.

He read it a dozen times before he moved, staring, as at a supernatural sight which might denote the triumph of either heaven or hell.
"EASTERN CONVENTION DISPERSED.
PEACE, NOT WAR.
UNIVERSAL BROTHERHOOD ESTABLISHED.
FELSENBURGH IN LONDON TO-NIGHT." * * * * * III It was not until nearly two hours later that Percy was standing at the house beyond the Junction.
He bad argued, expostulated, threatened, but the officials were like men possessed.