The inducement held out to Forster was that in this way he would have time for a game of whist before going on board the steamer. He fell in with Jephson's suggestion, and thus escaped from Ireland safely. That very night the whole gang of Invincibles, as the murderers had called themselves, had assembled at Westland Row for the purpose of killing him. Thrice they searched the train, vainly looking for the man whose death-sentence they had pronounced. Mrs. Forster was in one of the carriages, but her husband was not there. "If he had been," said Carey, in telling the story, "he would not have been alive now." When the truth became known, and it was seen that there was nothing of the mythical in the conspiracy against Forster's life, public indignation flamed up afresh at the treatment he had received. When he next came to Leeds, after the trial of the Invincibles, a crowd followed him through the streets from the railway station to the _Mercury_ office, cheering loudly. No wonder that a Government which had to confront the feeling caused by the treatment meted out to Forster was neither very happy nor very strong. It was soon after the exposure of the Invincibles that Forster addressed his constituents in St. George's Hall, Bradford. A number of Irishmen had got into the gallery, and persistently interrupted him, so that at last his speech was brought to a standstill. Gathering himself together, he waited for a moment's silence, and then, with outstretched arm menacing his antagonists, cried, in a voice which rang through the hall, "Since you didn't kill me in Ireland, you've got to listen to me here!" The shout that went up from the meeting as a whole acclaimed this sentiment with such emphasis that the Irishmen were reduced to silence, and there was no more trouble. Some persons were, however, very much shocked by Forster's characteristic bluntness. Among these was Mr. Gladstone, who thought that his former colleague had shown very bad taste.