He had hardly taken cover when Josiah came in. Following close behind were Julius Weiss and Councilor Kersley. It was a tense moment, but these grandees were occupied with a matter more important than the identity of the man behind the newspaper in the corner by the window. "Miss Searson!" The tone of the proprietor was like unto that of Jove. "Ring up Strathfieldsaye and tell them I am going to eat at the Club." Bill Hollis was sensible of a thrill. He was a mere cat in the presence of a king, except that this was a king whom he dare not look at. It was a disgusting feeling yet somehow it was exalting. And this sense of uplift grew when Josiah and his friends disposed themselves augustly at one of the tables with a marble top, and three tankards of an exclusive brew were brought to them and they began to talk. It was "inner circle talk" and in the ear of William Hollis that lent it piquancy. Really it was what he was there for. The newspapers were unsatisfying. He craved to hear the matter discussed by men of substance, standing, general information, by men of the world. Sitting there behind his paper in the private bar, he felt nearer to the heart of things than he had ever been in his life. "Is it going to make so much difference?" Councilor Kersley, the eminent retail grocer, asked the question. "It's going to alter everything, Kersley--you mark me." The tone of Josiah was as final as an act of parliament and Julius Weiss slowly nodded in deep concurrence with it. "Of course we shall down 'em," said Councilor Kersley. "Yes, we shall down 'em, but----" Josiah's "but" left a good deal to the imagination. "Don't be too sure, my friends," said the master-hair-dresser. "Our Navy'll settle it at the finish," Josiah's growl was that of a very big dog. Julius Weiss shook his head solemnly but he didn't speak again. An odd, uneasy silence settled on the three of them while they drank their beer. But of a sudden there came a wholly unexpected obtrusion into the conversation. The man by the window lowered his paper. "We're not going to have a walk over, so don't let us think we are." For a reason he could not have explained had his life depended on it, William Hollis revealed his presence and plunged horse, foot and artillery into the matter in hand. XV Josiah gave him a look. But it was not the look he might have expected to receive. It was less the look of a vindictive parent and employer than the gesture a Chamberlain might have bestowed on a Jesse Collings or a Gladstone on a John Morley. "You're right, my lad--not a walk over."