"Vibrations be damned," said Lancaster, hotly. "I know all about etheric ships. Wasn't I in the _Mary Rose_ when we rammed the _Gigantic_? Brand's ships are rams, and they'll go through an electric battleship like a shell through a paper balloon. Eleven rams like that could wipe out all the electric fleets of Europe. Why with the fleets destroyed and the country impassable----" Browne yelped with delight. "Here," cried Lancaster, "Jack Branscombe, you old fool. I'll bet you every horse in my stables, bar Sharon and the Dun--against your spotted dog, our Lady wins the game!" Branscombe had been listening at the stairhead, now he rolled over to Lancaster. "I can't," he panted. "I can't bet against our Lady." "That the League don't capture London--my horses against your beastly spotted cur." "Your horses are a scandalous lot of crocks, and I wouldn't have them at a gift; but done, sir! and I hope you'll win my dog." "And so do I!" The voice, our Lady's voice, came thrilling clear from the head of the lower stairway, at which the three Guardsmen sprang to attention, and the civilian bolted. So her Majesty came forward attended by her retinue of the Guard, and wearing her uniform as its captain. Branscombe provided her a seat, Browne, kneeling, presented the cup of wine, the escort, breaking ranks, piled arms and awaited her pleasure. "There," she said, laughing. "I'm tired enough to love my home. Stand forward, Sergeant Branscombe," said our Lady, and her eyes twinkled, for she dearly loved a jest. "You are charged with betting one spotted dog against your sovereign." Branscombe prayed for the pavement to swallow him. "I had no more," he stammered. "One spotted dog or fifty, the same crime, Sergeant. I condemn you to quarter on your shield of arms a spotted dog proper bearing the legend: 'I am Lancaster's.' And you, Tom of Lancaster, get to bed, and behave yourself on pain of a severe course of mustard plasters--off with you! Gentlemen," she raised her cup, "I pledge the Guard." We heard a trumpet blown outside the gates, and at the sound our Lady let the cup fall, watching it roll slowly across the floor. "Go down," she said, "Gentlemen of 'B' squadron--receive this visitor--pay him all possible honour, and bring him here." A dozen men, those of "B" squadron, parted from the rest, saluted, formed, and marched clattering down the long stairs. The procession of the sick and their bearers ceased. Then one could only hear the impatient horses stamping in the porch. We looked at our Lady, and saw that she was afraid. "I want to warn you, gentlemen," she said faintly. "That trumpet was blown for the President of the British Republic--yes, the Republic. He has come to receive my surrender." "Kill him! Kill him!" cried some, and every man in the chamber was moved to break away from the Queen's discipline.