Cynthia neither heard his name nor followed his speech with any particular attention. It was indeed difficult to follow. He was an old hack of the platform with all the sounding phrases at the tip of his tongue. Rolling sentences, of the copybook, flowed out of him; declamations too vague to be understood were delivered with the vigor of a prophet. But he interspersed them with the familiar clichés of the day and each one received its salvo of applause. To Cynthia he was a man not so much stupid as out of place. She could imagine him at the head of a cavalry squadron. Here he seemed simply grotesque. On the other hand, Captain Rames did not; and the contrast between the two men bent her to consider whether, after all, she had not been wrong in her condemnation of his new career. She was in the mood to admit it; and when the meeting broke up and the crowd was pouring through the doors into the street, and those upon the platform were descending its steps, she found herself alone for a second on the rostrum with Harry Rames. "Perhaps I was wrong," she said. "I remember what you told me of Mr. Smale. A vivid gift of phrase--he thought that necessary. You have it." "On the platform--yes. But the platform's not the House," said Rames. "Smale told me that too. I have yet to see whether I shall carry the House." "Yet those last words," said Cynthia--"about the city and the continuity of its life and your pride to have a little share in it. Oh, that was finely done." And upon Rames's face there came a grin. "Yes, I thought that would fetch 'em," he said. Cynthia stepped back. Once again it occurred to Rames, as it had done on the night of their first meeting at the Admiralty, that just so would she look if he struck her a blow. "Then--then--the city is still a polling-booth," she stammered. "Yes," said Rames. The hero newly perched upon his pediment tumbled off again. "You used what I said to you because you just thought it would go down." Rames did not deny it. He remained silent. "I remember," she continued, "it was no doubt a foolish thing I said. But even when I said it, you were thinking this is the sort of thing that will take." That she was humiliated, her voice and her face clearly proved. Yet again Rames did not contradict her. Again he was silent. For there was nothing to be said. "You do not allow me many illusions about you," Cynthia said gently, and she began to turn away. But now he arrested her. "I don't mean to," he said quickly; and by the reply he undid some portion of the harm he had done himself in her eyes. CHAPTER XIV COLONEL CHALLONER'S MEMORY It had been arranged that Mr. Benoliel's small party should take supper with Harry Rames at his hotel. As they stood waiting at the foot of the platform the agent came to them from the outer doors. "The way's clear now," he said. "I think you can go."