He laughed a fearful, wicked laugh like unto that of a maniac, and said: "Float on proud flag, while yet you may.

Rejoice, oh! ye Anglo-Saxons, yet a little while.

Make my father ashamed to own me, his lawful son; call me a bastard child; look upon my pure mother as a harlot; laugh at Viola in the grave of a self-murderer; exhume Belton's body if you like and tear your flag from around him to keep him from polluting it! Yes, stuff your vile stomachs full of all these horrors.

You shall be richer food for the buzzards to whom I have solemnly vowed to give your flesh." These words struck terror to my soul.

With Belton gone and this man at our head, our well-organized, thoroughly equipped Imperium was a serious menace to the peace of the world.