The tumult swelled, then fell away; and in the partial lull that followed Fraide leaned over the back of his seat.  His quiet, dignified expression was unaltered, but his eyes were intensely bright.

“Chilcote,” he whispered, “I don’t congratulate you—­or myself.  I congratulate the country on possessing a great man!”

The remaining features of the debate followed quickly one upon the other; the electric atmosphere of the House possessed a strong incentive power.  Immediately Loder’s ovation had subsided, the Under-Secretary for Foreign Affairs rose and in a careful and non-incriminating reply defended the attitude of the Government.

Next came Fraide, who, in one of his rare and polished speeches, touched with much feeling upon his personal grief at the news reported from Persia, and made emphatic indorsement of Loder’s words.

Following Fraide came one or two dissentient Liberals, and then Sefborough himself closed the debate.  His speech was masterly and fluent; but though any disquietude he may have felt was well disguised under a tone of reassuring ease, the attempt to rehabilitate his position—­already weakened in more than one direction—­was a task beyond his strength.

Amid extraordinary excitement the division followed—­and with it a Government defeat.

It was not until half an hour after the votes had, been taken that Loder, freed at last from persistent congratulations, found opportunity to look for Eve.  In accordance with a promise made that morning, he was to find her waiting outside the Ladies’ Gallery at the close of the debate.

Disengaging himself from the group of men who had surrounded and followed him down the lobby, he discarded the lift and ran up the narrow staircase.  Reaching the landing, he went forward hurriedly; then with a certain abrupt movement he paused.  In the doorway leading to the gallery Eve was waiting for him.  The place was not brightly lighted, and she was standing in the shadow; but it needed only a glance to assure his recognition.  He could almost have seen in the dark that night, so vivid were his perceptions.  He took a step towards her, then again he stopped.  In a second glance he realized that her eyes were bright with tears; and it was with the strangest sensation he had ever experienced that the knowledge flashed upon him.  Here, also, he had struck the same note —­the long-coveted note of supremacy.  It had rung out full and clear as he stood in Chilcote’s place dominating the House; it had besieged him clamorously as he passed along the lobbies amid a sea of friendly hands and voices; now in the quiet of the deserted gallery it came home to him with deeper meaning from the eyes of Chilcote’s wife.

Without a thought he put out his hands and caught hers.

“I couldn’t get away,” he said.  “I’m afraid I’m very late.”

With a smile that scattered her tears Eve looked up.  “Are you?” she said, laughing a little.  “I don’t know what the time is.  I scarcely know whether it’s night or day.”