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The gentleman with the oily hair half rose and exclaimed:

'Oo, the...' The other man mumbled: 'Shut up, Briggs.'

The General said:

'I'm the president of the club, you know. It's my duty to see that the majority of the club and its visitors are pleased. I hope you don't mind.'

The General came back to his seat. He was trembling with vexation.

'It makes one as beastly a bounder as themselves,' he said. 'But what the devil else was one to do?' The two city men had ambled hastily into the dressing-rooms; the dire silence fell. Macmaster realised that, for these Tories at least, this was really the end of the world. The last of England! He returned, with panic in his heart, to Tietjens' telegram...Tietjens was going to Germany on Tuesday. He offered to throw over the department...These were unthinkable things. You couldn't imagine them!

He began to read the telegram all over again. A shadow fell upon the flimsy sheets. The Rt. Hon. Mr Waterhouse was between the head of the table and the windows. He said: