The fanaticism of a crowd is a dangerous weapon with which to tamper, and the dethronement of a king is not accomplished in a day.

With the speed of light, the element he had unloosed turned upon himself.
Again one word disentangled itself from the medley of sounds.
"The Prophet! The Prophet!" Like an ignited fuse, instinct had been lighted in the people.

The man who for months had been exalted--honored--well-nigh worshipped--was in imminent peril! That one thought submerged and demolished every other.
There was a forward movement--a roar--a crash--and the high, gilt railings of the Sanctuary went down as before a storm.
To Enid, who had been borne irresistibly upward on the human tide, there was one overpowering moment of fear and clamor, in which the cry of "The Prophet! The Prophet!" dominated her consciousness; then, to her, the world became suddenly and mercifully sightless, soundless, and void.
* * * * * When at last her eyes opened--when at last her senses falteringly returned to the consciousness of present things--she was in her own familiar room.

The atmosphere breathed of repose and peace; through the drawn curtains the hum of London came subdued and soothing; in the room itself the lights were modulated and the fire glowed soft and mellow, while a faint, pungent smell of restoratives filled the air.

But these details came but vaguely to her appreciation, for the first object upon which her glance and her ideas rested was the figure of John Henderson, kneeling beside the couch on which she lay.
For a long, silent space she gazed bewildered into the grave face bent over her own--striving to fathom whether this was another phase of an extraordinarily prolonged and harassing dream, or whether it had any bearing upon real life; then, as the pained, bewildered sensation deepened in her mind, it was suddenly illumined by a flash of recollection; and starting up, she caught Henderson's hand.
But before she could speak he laid his fingers gently over her eyes.
"You are not to think," he said.