"Your State House is open, I tell you. If you want to go in, go ahead. It's open for straight business, and it will stay open. There are no dark corners for dirty tricks or lying whispers. It's your property. If there's any whelp mean enough to damage his own property, he'll be taken care of by a policeman. That's why they're in there. That's what you're paying taxes for, to have policemen who'll take care of sneaks who can't be made decent in any other way. Some other gentleman like to ask a question?" Morrison realized that he had not won over the elements that were determined to make trouble. His searching eyes were marking the groups of the rebels. He directed an accusatory finger at one man, a Marion politician. "Matthewson, what's on your mind? Don't keep it all to yourself and those chaps you're buzzing with!" Matthewson, thus singled out, was embarrassed and incensed at the same time. "What have they been trying to put over with that militia, anyway?" "Put protection over state property because such mouths as yours have been making threats ever since election. But just as soon as it was realized that good citizens, like the most of these here, were misunderstanding the situation and were likely to be used as tools of gangsters, out went the militia! You saw it go, didn't you?" "I'd like to know who did all that realizing you're speaking of!" "It's not in good taste for an errand-boy of my caliber to gossip about the business of those for whom he is doing errands. I'll merely say, Matthewson, that the people of this state can always depend on the broad-gaged good sense of United States Senator Corson to suggest a solution of a political difficulty. And you may be sure that the state government will back him up. Go down-town and ask the boys of the guard who it was that gave the command for them to leave the State House. After that you'd better go home to bed. That's good advice for all of you." A shrill voice from the center of the massed throng cut in sharply. "Go home like chickens and wait to have your necks wrung! Go home like sheep and wait for the shearer and the butcher." The mayor leaned forward and tried to locate the agitator. "Hasn't the gentleman anything to say about goats? He's missing an excellent opportunity!" Morrison showed the alert air of a hunter trying to flush game in a covert. The provoking query had its effect. "Yes, that's what you call us-all you rulers call us the goats!" A brandished fist marked the man's position in the mob. "Ah, there you are, my friend! What else have you on your mind?" "I'll tell you what you have on your face. You have the mark of an honest man's hand there! I saw him plant that mark!" "And what's the answer?" asked Stewart, pleasantly. "You're a coward! You're not fit to advise real men what to do!" "I'm afraid you have me sized up all too well!" There was something like wistful apology in Morrison's smile.