The spectacle before them, the thousands of eyes focussed upon their little group at the long table, slowly awakened an uncomfortable disillusion in the commissioners. In fact, a little panic swept their minds. They had, of course, discussed the issues, passed resolutions and laid plans for grappling with the situation. But all these efforts had been part of the curious hypnosis which had overcome them. The sense of their power hypnotized them into fancying that their star chamber babblings were in themselves thunderblots. The sweeping promises, the all-embracing statements and resolutions passed and issued for publication had filled them with an exalted sense of success. They had entered the ballroom under the naive conviction that the whole business had been already successfully consummated. They were taking their seats at the table not to launch upon a task but to receive the plaudits of the public for great work already accomplished; in fact to reap reward for the noble utterances attributed to them by the press. But now with the pads of paper, the sharpened pencils, the businesslike cuspidors at their feet, the ominous wastepaper baskets under their hands, the commissioners faced the ghastly fact that the blot was still on the face of civilization, untouched by their thunderbolts. And some millions of people whose delegates were staring at them were waiting excitedly for it to be removed. It occurred as if for the first time to the commissioners that something would have to be done about it. Their expressions underwent a change. A pensiveness crept into their heavy faces. A bewilderment dulled the dignity of their stares. The room was unbearably hot. It was impossible to do any work in such a crowd. One could hardly hear oneself think above the noise. The commissioners frowned and whispered among themselves. Gradually a nervous jocularity came into their manner. "Well, here we are. All set." "Hm, I think we'd better call some witnesses." "That's right. Call some witnesses. Where's Judge Basine?" "Talking over there." "Huh, why don't he do something?" Yes, why didn't Judge Basine take charge of his flock. It was his commission. The papers all said it was the Basine Commission. Then why didn't he start something. Instead of gabbing around with reporters. "Good God! What a heat! Hasn't the management provided any fans?" "Where's a bellboy? We'll send him after some fans. Think a dozen'll be enough?" "Nothing doing. Three or four dozen at least. I'll wear out a dozen myself before this day's over, believe me." "Say, ain't that right!" "Oh Judge ... Judge...." "Yes, what is it, Senator?" "What about the witnesses? Are we going to have any witnesses?" "Of course. I'm just getting things ready." "That's right. There's no rush. Open that window, won't you Jim?" "God, what a mob. Well, we'd better do something, don't you think?" "Leave it to Basine. Got a knife, Harry? This pencil's full of bum lead."