Twenty men were
hard at work in twenty different rooms. Some went about their
labours doubtfully, some almost timorously, some with jubilation,
one or two with real regret. Under their fingers grew the more
amplified mandates which, following upon the bombshell of the
already prepared telegrams, were within a few hours to paralyse
industrial England, to keep her ships idle in the docks, her
trains motionless upon the rails, her mines silent, her forges
cold, her great factories empty. Even the least imaginative felt
the thrill, the awe of the thing he was doing. On paper, in the
brain, it seemed so wonderful, so logical, so certain of the
desired result. And now there were other thoughts forcing their
way to the front. How would their names live in history? How
would Englishmen throughout the world regard this deed? Was it
really the truth they were following, or some false and ruinous
shadow? These were fugitive doubts, perhaps, but to more than one
of those midnight toilers they presented themselves in the guise
of a chill and drear presentiment.
They all heard a motor-car stop outside. No one, however, thought
it worth while to discontinue his labours for long enough to look
out and see who this nocturnal visitor might be. In a very short
time, however, these labours were disturbed. From room to room,
Julian, with Catherine and the Bishop, for whom they had called on
the way, passed with a brief message. No one made any difficulty
about coming to the Council room.
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