The Duke waved the scarlet coated footman to one side, and got into the carriage, and sat down beside the King. His mere physical presence, his vitality, his energy, at once steadied the King. For one terrible moment, it had seemed to him that he was falling through infinite space-- A couple of the cars parked in the side road, beyond the signpost, shot forward, and swept on ahead up the main road. A momentary bustle, a general movement, at the cross road, followed. A curt word of command rang out, and the Household Cavalry wheeled, with the precision of clockwork, into position, in front of, and behind, the state carriage. The scarlet coated footmen sprang up on to their stand, at the back of the carriage. The out-riders swung clear into their places. The postillions whipped up their horses-- The carriage moved forward. As the carriage moved forward, the Duke dropped his left hand on to the seat, between the King and himself. "Take my hand. Grip it, sir!" he said. "I am real! Do not hesitate, sir. We are quite unobserved. A time comes in most men's lives when they need--the grip of the hand of a friend. I am an old man, sir; old enough to be your father. When you take my hand, it is as if you reached out and gripped your father's hand-- "I would have spared you all this, I would have spared you the ordeal of the wild enthusiasm which awaits you, a little further on, if it had been possible, sir. But it was not possible. I realized the risks involved--all the risks, and they are considerable. I counted the cost--to you. But the end to be attained far outweighs the price to be paid. The spectacular, the triumphant, return to the palace, which you are just beginning, sir, will do more to consolidate your hold on the people than anything else could have done. The psychology of the mob is, and must always remain, an incalculable force; but, with a little skill, with a little courage, with a little patience, it can be controlled, it can be used." The King hardly heard what the Duke said. But the grip of the old man's hand on his was as a rock to cling to. This was what he had wanted; something tangible, actual, real to hold on to, in this dream world of sunlit phantoms which enveloped him. He was no longer alone. With the Duke like this at his side, he could face whatever twists and turns their dream might take. It was _their_ dream, now-- The carriage moved slowly forward, but, slowly as it moved, it soon entered--the outskirts of Hades-- In the outer suburbs, all the scattered, decorous, red-tiled villas were gay with flags, gayer than they had been in that other life, ages ago, on the Coronation Day. At various points on the road now stood little groups of people, the vanguard of the thousand, flushed, curious faces, the thousand eyes-- With these people, the cheering began, the waving of flags, the wild frenzy. The King felt the Duke's hand tighten on his--