Bill's mouth opened and shut in a frenzied manner, and his face turned purple. He was utterly inaudible. At last, encircling Alf's ear with his two hands and using them as a trumpet, he bawled with the full force of his lungs: "STOP IT!" Alf leapt away as if he had been shot and began to massage his ear tenderly. His lips moved fervently, and his eyes held bitter reproach. The joyous din of welcome continued and swelled. Forgetting his injury Alf bawled back in the same way: "'Ow?" "EUSTACE!" returned Bill impatiently. Alf's fingers flew to his Button; in the mental paralysis caused by the awful din he had forgotten the djinn; but the instant his fingers touched the talisman every sound ceased. It did not die away; it ended suddenly, as though a giant had stopped his gigantic gramophone in the midst of a bar. At the same moment the entire assembly, even to the magnificent major-domo behind them in the vestibule, fell forward on its face and remained motionless. Alf and Bill--to whom, after three years at the front, it was second nature to take cover whenever their neighbors did so without asking questions--groveled likewise for a moment. Then they rose sheepishly and stared about them in astonishment. Not a sound or a movement came from the assembly. Then Alf, whose fingers had paused involuntarily when the noise shut off, rubbed the Button and the djinn appeared. "'Ere, Eustace," said Alf with some heat, "what was all that blinkin' noise about, eh? We can't 'ear ourselves think." "Lord," said the djinn in pained surprise, "this was a concert of music in thine honor such as delighted the ear of the great Caliph Haroun Alraschid." "Aaron 'oo? Never 'eard of the bloke, but 'e must 'ave 'ad a queer taste in music. Any'ow there's no need to kick up such a blinkin' row about it. Very nice of you an' all that, but you're bein' too 'olesale again. My ears is singin' now--let alone Mr. Grant 'avin' near busted me ear-drum." He caressed his injured member again. Eustace, who only half comprehended this harangue, but gathered that his unaccountable master was once more finding unexpected faults in his arrangements, said nothing. "Look 'ere, Alf," suggested Bill suddenly, "'adn't you better let some o' these pore blighters get up? The blood'll be running into their 'eads something 'orrid." Alf addressed himself to the prostrate crowds. "'Ere," he said in diffident tones, "you can get up now." Not a soul moved. "Squad!" said Bill loudly, in the formula sacred to the use of the army instructor in physical training. "On the feet--UP!" The assembly remained prostrate. "The blinkin' 'eathens don't understand English, that's what it is," said Alf with sudden enlightenment. "You tell 'em, Eustace."