“He didn't--” And then Samuel stopped. He had promised to tell nothing about Charlie. “Go on!” cried the chief. “I--I can't tell,” he stammered. “What?” exclaimed the other. “You want to hide things from me? Don't you suppose I know that he's still in town; and that you and him have been doin' jobs?” “No--no!” cried Samuel in terror. “You can't lie to me!” threatened the chief. “I know you, you young villain!” He stood glaring at the boy for a few moments. “And you have the nerve to come here!” he cried. “What do you want anyway?” “I--I want to hold a meeting, sir.” “Who's given you a license to make trouble in this town?” “Nobody's given me one yet,” replied Samuel. “That's what I came for.” “Don't you get gay with me!” snapped the chief. But Samuel was far from the thought of getting gay with anyone--he was trembling in his boots. The man towered over him like a huge gorilla, and his red face was ferocious. “Now look here, young fellow!” he went on. “You might as well get this straight. You'll get no permit to make any speeches in Lockmanville! D'ye see?” “Yes, sir.” “And what's more, you'll not make any speech. D'ye see?” “But--but--” gasped the boy. And McCullagh shook his finger so that it almost hit Samuel's nose. “You'll not make any speech! You'll not make it on the street, and you'll not make it anywheres else in town! And you might as well get that through your nut and save yourself trouble. And if I hear of you givin' out any more papers on the street--you'll wish you hadn't--that's all, young fellow! D'ye see?” “I see,” gasped Samuel. “All right,” said the chief. “And if you take my advice, you'll get the first train out of Lockmanville and never show your face in it again. Now get out of here!” And Samuel got out, and went down the street dumb with dismay. So they had got the police after him! Of course he would make his speech. He could not let himself be stopped by such a thing as that. But he saw at once how matters were complicated--if the police were to stop him before he had made clear what he had to say, they might ruin all his plans. He must seek advice about it; and he went at once to the carpet factory, and sought out the little room where the Bremers sat with their drawing boards and paints. “So that's it!” exclaimed Johann. “They vill shut you up!” “Do you think they can?” asked the boy. “Sure they can!” cried the other. “They hafn't let the Socialists speak on the streets for years. We should haf fought them!” He reached for his coat. “Come,” he said. “I vill take you to see Tom Everley.” “Who is Tom Everley?” asked the boy. “He's a lawyer, and he vill tell you. He's the secretary of the local.” “A Socialist!” exclaimed Samuel, startled. Again it was the Socialists!