"Then you're afraid of a shadow, sir! But I'll tell you what you may well be afraid of. I'm giving you your chance to save your face and your dignity. Order away those boys or I'll go and stand on the main stairway and tell 'em just how they're being used as tools by political tricksters. And then even your tricksters will land on your back and blame you for forcing an exposure. I'll tell the boys! I swear I'll do it! And I'll bet you gold-dust against sawdust that they'll refuse to commit murder. Totten, this exigency is now working under a full head of steam. You can hear that mob now! This thing is getting down to minutes, I'll give you just one of those minutes to tramp down into that rotunda and issue your orders." "But what--" The general's tone unmistakably indicated surrender; the Governor had already shifted the onus; Totten knew his brother-in-law's nature; the Governor would just as soon shift the odium after such an explosion as this wild Scotchman threatened. "You needn't bother about the what, sir. You give the order. And as soon as the thing is on a business basis I'll tend to it." Stewart took the liberty of hooking his arm inside the general's. The officer seemed to be experiencing some difficulty in getting his feet started. The two hurried along and trudged down the middle of the main stairway. Lana followed. She halted at the gallery rail and surveyed the scene below. Even in her absorption in the affair between Stewart and the adjutant-general she had been aware of the rising tumult outside. The bellow of voices had settled into a sort of chant of, "Time's up--time's up!" Captain Sweetsir had deployed his men across the rotunda behind the machine-guns. When he beheld the mayor and the general on the stairs he saluted nervously. "They're getting ready to use sledge-hammers, sir. Shall I hand 'em the rifle-fire first or let loose with the machine-guns?" Stewart still held to the general's arm. Totten hesitated. His face was white and his lips quivered. Morrison's gaze was set straight ahead, but a twist of his face indicated that he said something through the corner of his mouth. The general made his plunge. "Captain Sweetsir, instruct your men to empty their magazines, assemble accoutrements, and stand at ease in marching order." The captain came onto his tiptoes in order to elongate himself as a human interrogation-point. "Captain Sweetsir, order your bugler to sound retreat!" The officer forced an amazed croak out of his throat by way of a command, and on the hush within the rotunda the clarion of the bugle rang out. It echoed in the high arches. Its sharp notes cut into the clamor outdoors.