For a moment Hal stood motionless and speechless. He had seen and known nothing of the brief interview between the first sergeant and Donatello. When he realized the meaning and force of the command that had been given to him, he was amazed and indignant. He brought his hand up sharply in a second salute. “Hugo Donatello,” he replied, “is my guest here this evening.” The first sergeant did not move, nor did the expression on his face change by so much as the lifting of an eyebrow. Again, more deliberately, more emphatically than before, in a voice that could be heard to the remotest corner of the drill-hall, he gave the command: “Sergeant McCormack, you will take a detail, consisting of one corporal and two privates, and conduct to the street one, Hugo Donatello, whose presence in this room is an offense to Company E and its guests.” For Halpert McCormack it was the most tense moment that his life had thus far known. That the man whom he had brought as his guest should be thus publicly humiliated; that he, himself, should be deliberately chosen as the instrument by which such humiliation was to be accomplished; it was monstrous and unbelievable. Against such an outrage his whole nature cried out in revolt. For one moment, in a larger sense than he dreamed of at the time, he stood at the parting of the ways. Then the soldier within him prevailed. He made his decision. He saluted his superior officer, faced about, chose a corporal and two privates, ordered them to the front, and marched with them to the place where Donatello was still sitting, a quizzical smile on his lips, a dangerous light in his eyes. In the audience there was the stillness of consternation. Women crouched back into their seats and put their hands to their faces. A few men rose to their feet and stared expectantly. No one could foresee just what would happen. Sergeant McCormack halted his squad in front of the offending visitor. “I am directed,” he said, “by the officer in charge, to conduct you from the hall.” “And if I refuse to go?” “I shall remove you by force.” It was all spoken quietly, deliberately, with determination on the one hand, with repressed indignation on the other. For a moment the young radical looked into the eyes of the young soldier. What he saw there evidently determined him in his course. “So far that you are soldier,” he said, “I defy you. So far that you are gentleman, whom I respect, I yield myself to your wish that I go.” He rose, took his place by the side of the sergeant, and, followed by the detail, they moved down the hall to the big street doors from which Donatello disappeared into the darkness. Then the squad returned to the line, the second sergeant directed his men to their places in the ranks, and, facing his superior officer he saluted and reported: “Your orders have been obeyed, sir.” The first sergeant returned the salute and responded concisely: “Take your post!” CHAPTER VIII