succeeded very admirably in suppressing the fact of his disappearance.
But every moment he expected to hear the report of his death or of his
recapture by the Council.

Presently a man stopped before him. "Have you heard?" he said.

"No!" said Graham, starting.

"Near a dozand," said the man, "a dozand men!" and hurried on.

A number of men and a girl passed in the darkness, gesticulating and
shouting: "Capitulated! Given up!" "A dozand of men." "Two dozand of
men." "Ostrog, Hurrah! Ostrog, Hurrah!" These cries receded, became
indistinct.

Other shouting men followed. For a time his attention was absorbed in the
fragments of speech he heard. He had a doubt whether all were speaking
English. Scraps floated to him, scraps like Pigeon English, like "nigger"
dialect, blurred and mangled distortions. He dared accost no one with
questions. The impression the people gave him jarred altogether with his
preconceptions of the struggle and confirmed the old man's faith in
Ostrog. It was only slowly he could bring himself to believe that all
these people were rejoicing at the defeat of the Council, that the
Council which had pursued him with such power and vigour was after all
the weaker of the two sides in conflict. And if that was so, how did it
affect him? Several times he hesitated on the verge of fundamental
questions. Once he turned and walked for a long way after a little man of
rotund inviting outline, but he was unable to master confidence to
address him.