"I suppose that will be the best way," he assented coldly. "Since we are in for this unfortunate business, the less notice we attract, the better." His tone roused a flash of temper in me, and I replied tartly: "If the business is so distasteful to you, there are plenty of streets that lead in the other direction." "Very true," he said with a shrug. But his steady footstep told me that he had no thought of turning back. We fell into silence, and so continued until we reached the Plaza. "What’s this?" I exclaimed, for at the corner of Clay and Kearny Streets a crowd was gathered, and a cheer, or rather a confusion of vocal applause, broke out as we approached. A man mounted on a cart was shouting fiercely to several hundred men who had gathered about him, and I could hear such words as "leprous heathen," "cursed Mongols," and other phrases of denunciation roll from his lips. I looked at him more closely. He was tall and broad-shouldered, and his coarse, florid features brought in a flash of memory the scene in the House of Blazes when the bleeding policeman had been rescued from his hoodlum assailants. "Why, that’s Kearney!" I cried. "A friend of yours?" asked Mr. Baldwin sarcastically. "I met him once." "Perhaps you’d like to renew your acquaintance," said Mr. Baldwin, as we paused in curiosity on the edge of the crowd. "He seems to have an education in classical history." We caught some reference to the labor troubles of Rome, and the fate of the freeman under the slave system that destroyed the ancient republic. "I hadn’t suspected it from a moment’s speech with him," I said. "He has a good voice for this sort of work." The crowd again broke out into tumultuous shouts at some bit of pleasing denunciation. "Where are the police?" said Mr. Baldwin. "They ought to stop this." I pointed to three or four members of the force who were standing near the speaker, apparently indifferent to his language. "That’s a scandalous neglect of duty," said Mr. Baldwin. "But we had better go about our unfortunate errand." We had gone but two steps, however, before a hand grasped me by the shoulder. "Glad to see you, Hampden. Glad to see you interested in the cause of the people. Welcome to our reception!" It was the voice of Parks, giving boisterous greeting as he shook me by the hand. "Isn’t he great?" he continued rapidly. "What do you think of his speech?" There was pride of authorship in his inquiry, and every movement testified to the excitement and pleasure that thrilled him. "Is this your first performance?" I asked. "No," he said. "We’ve been trying it on the street corners at odd times. Now we are ready to begin in earnest. What do you think of it?" "I think you are rash to begin your agitation so near the police station. Your man will probably find himself in jail before he gets through his speech."