Story by story the great building was flooded with glory that mounted to the upper windows and overflowed into the night with a veritable cascade of brilliancy when the thousand bulbs of the dome's circlet flashed their splendor against the sky. The lamps of the broad front portico and its approaches added the final, dazzling touch to the general illumination. From a sullen, gloomy hulk of a building, with its few lights showing like glowering eyes in ambush, the State House was transformed into a temple of glory, thrust into the heavens from the top of Capitol Hill, a torch that signaled comforting candor, a reassuring beacon. The surprise of the happening stilled the uproar. Neither Morrison, inside, nor the mob, outside, was bothering with the mental analysis of the psychology of the thing! Something had happened! There was The Light! It threw into sharp relief every upturned face in the massed throng. Their voices remained hushed. Commander Lanigan, standing above them on a marble rail, his figure outlined against a pergola column, did his best to put some of his emotions into speech. He shouted, "_Some_ night-blooming cereus, I'll tell the world!" The great doors swung open slowly. They remained open. Now curiosity replaced astonishment and held the rioters in their tracks; their mouths were wide, the voices mute. The mayor of Marion walked into view. The columns of the _porte-cochère_ were supported on a broad base, and he climbed up and was elevated in the radiance high above their heads. He smiled hospitably. "Boys, it's open house, and the house is yours. Hope you like its looks! But what's the big idea of the surprise party?" No one took it on himself to reply. He waited tolerantly. "Well, out with it!" he suggested. Somebody with a raucous voice ventured. "You probably know what they've been trying to hide away from the people inside there. Suppose you do the talking." "I'm not here to make a speech." "Well, answer a question, then!" This was a shrill voice. "What about those soldiers and those machine-guns in there?" "Not a word!" With yells, oaths, and catcalls the crowd offered comment on that declaration. His demeanor as a statue of patience was more effective than remonstrance in quieting them. "Any other gentlemen wish to offer more remarks? Get it all out of you!" He utilized the hush. "Boys, I'm going to give you something better than words. Hearing can't always be trusted. But seeing is believing!" He pulled a police whistle from his pocket and shrilled a signal. For a time there was no answer or demonstration of any sort. Then the tramp of marching feet was heard on the pavement of the square. It was Marion's police force, issuing from some point of mobilization near at hand; it was the force in full strength, led by the chief; he was in dress-parade garb and the radiance of the square was reflected in imposing high-lights by his gold braid.