"Thank God you can't," replied the other grimly. "No party's got the chuckle over another. So there's some hope that we may act as a country for once."
Outside the Manor-house the Colonel met Mr. Pigott in his frock-coat on the way to chapel. The two men had never spoken for years past except to spar. Now in the presence of the common fear they stopped, and then shook hands.
Mr. Pigott was a brave man, but there was no doubt he was shaken to the roots.
"My God, Colonel!" he muttered. "It's awful."
"It don't look too pleasant," the old soldier admitted.
"But we can't go in!" cried the old Nonconformist. "It's no affair of ours. Who are the Serbs?"
"It's go in or go under, I'm afraid," the other answered. "That's the alternative."
He dropped down Borough Lane past the Star.
On the hill Edward Caspar ambling rapidly along with flying coat-tails caught him up.
"Well, Mr. Caspar, what do you think about it?" asked the Colonel.