“And now,” said the Speaker, resuming his serenity of manner without an effort, “now we must make our plans. I propose that we shall march out at once and prepare to meet the President west of London if he wishes to attack us; and I have decided that you shall take command of the army.”
“I?” Jeremy exclaimed. “Oh, but——” He was overwhelmed by an absurd confusion. Once again he was in the nightmare world, struggling with shadows, wrestling with an incomprehensible mind on which he could never get a grip. “I can’t command the army! I know something about guns, but I’ve no experience of infantry. I shouldn’t....” His protests faded away into silence before the Speaker’s imperturbability. “Guns are all very well ... I don’t mind ... I can’t....” These words jerked out and ceased, like the last spasmodic drops from a fountain, when the water has been turned off at the main. Then, when he himself supposed that he had finished, he added suddenly with an air of conclusiveness: “I know something about guns....”
The Speaker made no answer for a moment or two. When he did it was slowly and with extreme deliberation. “You won this morning’s battle for us,” he said, “by the use of guns. Our battle against the President, if it is ever fought, will have to be won in the same way. None of us properly understands how to do it but you. And, after all, wasn’t there a great general in the old times, somewhere about your time, who began his career in the artillery? What was his name? I know so little of history; but I think it began with a B.”
“Napoleon,” Jeremy suggested with a half hysterical chuckle.
“Napoleon? Was that it? I thought it was some other name. Well, then, if he could——”
“I won’t do it,” Jeremy suddenly uttered.
The door opened again, and the Canadian entered. He was wrapped in a great furred gown, from the ample collar of which his face hardly protruded, looking sharper and leaner than ever.
“You sent for me,” he said in a colorless and slightly drowsy voice. “What has happened now?”
“Sit down,” the Speaker returned. “Henry Watkins and John Hammond will be here in a moment.”
Without a word the Canadian sank into a chair and drew the fur of his gown closely round his ears and mouth. Over the folds of it his small, red eyes looked out with an unwavering and sinister expression. His arrival brought an oppressive silence with it; and Jeremy began suddenly to feel the uncanny effects of being thus wakeful in a sleeping world. He looked furtively at the calm, stern face of the Speaker, and saw how the thick lips were compressed in a rigid line. Outside a faint and eery wind persistently moved the leaves. Within, the great building was stonily silent all around them; and the flames of the candles on the table danced at a movement of the air or burnt up straight and still in the succeeding calm. The hush lasted until a servant announced the attendance of Henry Watkins and John Hammond, who had been fetched out of their beds and had reached the Treasury together.