As the cab drew near to its destination the signs of a great national
excitement appeared, and multiplied. The lips of a people pronounced,
with a grand unanimity, the name of "Tinkler." The heart of a people
hung suspended (mostly in the public houses) on the chances for and
against the possibility of replacing "Tinkler" by another man. The
scene in front of the inn was impressive in the highest degree. Even the
London blackguard stood awed and quiet in the presence of the national
calamity. Even the irrepressible man with the apron, who always turns up
to sell nuts and sweetmeats in a crowd, plied his trade in silence, and
found few indeed (to the credit of the nation be it spoken) who had
the heart to crack a nut at such a time as this. The police were on the
spot, in large numbers, and in mute sympathy with the people, touching
to see. Julius, on being stopped at the door, mentioned his name--and
received an ovation. His brother! oh, heavens, his brother! The people
closed round him, the people shook hands with him, the people invoked
blessings on his head. Julius was half suffocated, when the police
rescued him, and landed him safe in the privileged haven on the inner
side of the public house door. A deafening tumult broke out, as he
entered, from the regions above stairs. A distant voice screamed,
"Mind yourselves!" A hatless shouting man tore down through the people
congregated on the stairs. "Hooray! Hooray! He's promised to do it! He's
entered for the race!" Hundreds on hundreds of voices took up the cry.
A roar of cheering burst from the people outside. Reporters for the
newspapers raced, in frantic procession, out of the inn, and rushed into
cabs to put the news in print. The hand of the landlord, leading Julius
carefully up stairs by the arm, trembled with excitement. "His brother,
gentlemen! his brother!" At those magic words a lane was made through
the throng. At those magic words the closed door of the council-chamber
flew open; and Julius found himself among the Athletes of his native