“Good Heavens!” said Moyne.
Babberly squeezed his way past Lady Moyne.
“This won’t do,” he said to Moyne, “Malcolmson mustn’t go too far.”
“The Dean,” said Malcolmson, “has told us where to find our commanders. Looking round upon this vast assembly of determined men I can tell the Dean where to look for the rank and file of the army.”
“You’ll have to stop him,” said Babberly.
I dare say the thought of the impeachment which was hanging over his head made him nervous.
“I can’t,” said Lord Moyne.
“I ask those present here,” said Malcolmson, “who, when the supreme moment comes are prepared to step forward into the ranks, to hold up their hands and swear.”
Malcolmson did not make it quite clear what oaths we were to employ. But his audience appeared to understand him. Thousands of hands were held up and there was a kind of loud, fierce growl, which I took to be the swearing. Lord Moyne turned to me.
“What am I to do, Kilmore?”