For five minutes, he shouted, he wept, he shook his fists, he raised his hands to heaven. Then, striding to the edge of the platform, he demanded in a low, compelling tone: "Who will take up the sword of righteousness and go with me to drive this creature from our midst?" For a moment, there was dead silence. Then a young man stood up in the middle of the auditorium. "By God, I will!" he shouted. "I reckon I will, too," called an older man near the rear. One by one, then all at once, they were on their feet, shouting and milling around. Truggles leaped from the stage and forced his way through the crowd to the door. They surged out of the auditorium at his heels and poured down the middle of the street toward the home of Blan Forsythe, yelling. With Truggles in the lead, the excited citizens swept onto the broad lawn in front of the big mansion, spread out over the grass, trampling the flower beds. There were fifty to a hundred of them. Porch lights went on all over the neighborhood. From the same direction from which the crowd had come, two figures ran across the yards in the dimness and, circling the edge of the crowd, came up to Truggles. He recognized Phyllis Allison and her son, Donald. "What is this, Mr. Truggles?" she cried, peering into his face. "What are all these people doing?" "I'm sorry you came here, Mrs. Allison," he answered, shouting to make himself heard over the uproar of the people around them. "These people are determined to right the wrong this man has done you." Outside lights from the mansion suddenly lit the entire lawn, and the mob that stirred restlessly on it. A momentary silence fell. Their numbers did not seem as great, their ranks not so solid, in the glare of the lights. "Come on, Forsythe!" shouted Truggles in a great voice. "Come out and face your judges!" The front door opened and Allison stepped out on the railinged porch. Truggles, at the front of the crowd, was about seventy feet from him. "What is this?" demanded Allison. "What are you people doing here?" "We've come for Forsythe," answered Truggles, and a murmur from the crowd backed him up. "Where is he?" "I'm surprised at you, all of you," said Allison. "You people are my friends and Blan's friends. Why, you--" He broke off as he caught sight of Phyllis and Donald. "Phyllis!" he exclaimed. "What are you doing here? Take that boy home!" Obediently, she turned away, but Truggles caught her by the arm. "Get Forsythe out here!" he cried. "Let him face the woman he wronged!" At that moment, Forsythe himself came out of the door and stood at Allison's side. A wordless cry ran through the mob at the sight of the tetraploid man's face, topped with its cap of mole-gray fuzz. "I see you're still taking an active interest in my affairs, Truggles," said Forsythe. He did not raise his voice, but it carried across the lawn.