“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 the world.  Nominally—­legally.  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 some sort of 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 must not come.”

There was a pause and Ostrog looked him in the eyes.

“They will,” he said.

“I forbid it,” said Graham.

“They have started.”

“I will not have it.”

“No,” said Ostrog.  “Sorry as I am to follow the method of the Council—.  For your own good—­you must not side with—­Disorder.  And now that you are here—.  It was kind of you to come here.”

Lincoln laid his hand on Graham’s shoulder.  Abruptly Graham realised the enormity of his blunder in coming to the Council House.  He turned towards the curtains that separated the hall from the ante-chamber.  The clutching hand of Asano intervened.  In another moment Lincoln had grasped Graham’s cloak.

He turned and struck at Lincoln’s face, and incontinently a negro had him by collar and arm.  He wrenched himself away, his sleeve tore noisily, and he stumbled back, to be tripped by the other attendant.  Then he struck the ground heavily and he was staring at the distant ceiling of the hall.

He shouted, rolled over, struggling fiercely, clutched an attendant’s leg and threw him headlong, and struggled to his feet.