When it stopped, amid the usual applause, everyone stood, detached, stiffened in expectation. The President's voice was raised again.
"Ladies and gentlemen, please behave naturally. This is a dance, not a public meeting."
Rogers led his partner to a chair and fetched her an ice. As he stooped over her, he noticed the hurried rise and fall of her bosom.
"Ladies and gentlemen." The endless interval was over. "You will no doubt wish to be immediately relieved from suspense. I will name the persons involved. Number Thirty-seven!"
A man sprang up with a fearful, strangled cry.
"Silence!"
The wretch choked and gasped.
"I never—I swear I never—I'm innocent."
"Silence. You have failed in discretion. You will be dealt with. If you have anything to say in defence of your folly, I will hear it later. Sit down."
Number Thirty-seven sank down upon a chair. He pushed his handkerchief under the mask to wipe his face. Two tall men closed in upon him. The rest fell back, feeling the recoil of humanity from one stricken by mortal disease.