‘But first a small drink,’ said Pirolo.  ’The Board must not arrive weeping at its own works.’

‘I am an old fool—­an old fool!’ Dragomiroff began piteously.  ’I did not know what would happen.  It is all new to me.  We reason with them in Little Russia.’

Chicago North landing-tower was unlighted, and Arnott worked his ship into the clips by her own lights.  As soon as these broke out we heard groanings of horror and appeal from many people below.

‘All right,’ shouted Arnott into the darkness.  ’We aren’t beginning again!’ We descended by the stairs, to find ourselves knee-deep in a grovelling crowd, some crying that they were blind, others beseeching us not to make any more noises, but the greater part writhing face downward, their hands or their caps before their eyes.

It was Pirolo who came to our rescue.  He climbed the side of a surfacing-machine, and there, gesticulating as though they could see, made oration to those afflicted people of Illinois.

‘You stchewpids!’ he began.  ’There is nothing to fuss for.  Of course, your eyes will smart and be red to-morrow.  You will look as if you and your wives had drunk too much, but in a little while you will see again as well as before.  I tell you this, and I—­I am Pirolo.  Victor Pirolo!’

The crowd with one accord shuddered, for many legends attach to Victor Pirolo of Foggia, deep in the secrets of God.

‘Pirolo?’ An unsteady voice lifted itself.  ’Then tell us was there anything except light in those lights of yours just now?’

The question was repeated from every corner of the darkness.

Pirolo laughed.

‘No!’ he thundered. (Why have small men such large voices?) ’I give you my word and the Board’s word that there was nothing except light—­just light!  You stchewpids!  Your birth-rate is too low already as it is.  Some day I must invent something to send it up, but send it down—­never!’

‘Is that true?—­We thought—­somebody said—­’

One could feel the tension relax all round.

‘You too big fools,’ Pirolo cried.  ’You could have sent us a call and we would have told you.’

‘Send you a call!’ a deep voice shouted.  ’I wish you had been at our end of the wire.’

‘I’m glad I wasn’t,’ said De Forest.  ’It was bad enough from behind the lamps.  Never mind!  It’s over now.  Is there any one here I can talk business with?  I’m De Forest—­for the Board.’

‘You might begin with me, for one—­I’m Mayor,’ the bass voice replied.

A big man rose unsteadily from the street, and staggered towards us where we sat on the broad turf-edging, in front of the garden fences.

‘I ought to be the first on my feet.  Am I?’ said he.

‘Yes,’ said De Forest, and steadied him as he dropped down beside us.

‘Hello, Andy.  Is that you?’ a voice called.

‘Excuse me,’ said the Mayor; ’that sounds like my Chief of Police, Bluthner!’