No cooks, either. No servants. Even Anthony recognized that, with the exception of Grayson, the servants in his house were vaguely hostile to the family. They gave grudging service, worked short hours, and, the only class of labor to which the high cost of food was a negligible matter, demanded wages he considered immoral. “I don't know what the world's coming to,” he snarled. “Well, I'm off. Thank God, there are still clubs for a man to go to.” “I want to have a talk with you, father.” “I don't want to talk.” “You needn't. I want you to listen, and I want Grace to hear, too.” In the end he went unwillingly into the library, and when Grayson had brought liqueurs and coffee and had gone, Howard drew the card from his pocket. “I met young Denslow to-day,” he said. “He came in to see me. As a matter of fact, I signed a card he had brought along, and I brought one for you, sir. Shall I read it?” “You evidently intend to.” Howard read the card slowly. Its very simplicity was impressive, as impressive as it had been when Willy Cameron scrawled the words on the back of an old envelope. Anthony listened. “Just what does that mean?” “That the men behind this movement believe that there is going to be a general strike, with an endeavor to turn it into a revolution. Perhaps only local, but these things have a tendency to spread. Denslow had some literature which referred to an attempt to take over the city. They have other information, too, all pointing the same way.” “Strikers?” “Foreign strikers, with the worst of the native born. Their plans are fairly comprehensive; they mean to dynamite the water works, shut down the gas and electric plants, and cut off all food supplies. Then when they have starved and terrorized us into submission, we'll accept their terms.” “What terms?” “Well, the rule of the mob, I suppose. They intend to take over the banks, for one thing.” “I don't believe it. It's incredible.” “They meant to do it in Seattle.” “And didn't. Don't forget that.” “They may have learned some things from Seattle,” Howard said quietly. “We have the state troops.” “What about a half dozen similar movements in the state at the same time? Or rioting in other places, carefully planned to draw the troops and constabulary away?” In the end old Anthony was impressed, if not entirely convinced. But he had no faith in the plain people, and said so. “They'll see property destroyed and never lift a hand,” he said. “Didn't I stand by in Pittsburgh during the railroad riots, and watch them smile while the yards burned? Because the railroads meant capital to them, and they hate capital.”