So he wandered physically and mentally. Wandered till sounds of martial music came up through the broken window. “Fall in,” cried Peter. “The Anarchists are after her. It’s dynamite, not lightning. Podds, Don’t let them hurt her. Save her. Oh! save her I Why can’t I get to her? Don’t try to hold me,” he cried, as he came in contact with a chair. He caught it up and hurled it across the room, so that it crashed into the picture-frames, smashing chair and frames into fragments. “I can’t be the one to throw it,” he cried, in an agonized voice. “She’s all I have. For years I’ve been so lonely. Don’t I can’t throw it. It kills me to see her suffer. It wouldn’t be so horrible if I hadn’t done it myself. If I didn’t love her so. But to blow her up myself. I can’t. Men, will you stand by me, and help me to save her?” The band of music stopped. A moment’s silence fell and then up from the street, came the air of: “Marching through Georgia,” five thousand voices singing: “Rally round our party, boys; Rally to the blue, And battle for our candidate, So sterling and so true, Fight for honest government, boys, And down the vicious crew; Voting for freedom and Stirling. “Hurrah, hurrah, for Stirling, brave and strong. Hurrah, hurrah, for Stirling, never wrong. And roll the voters up in line, Two hundred thousand strong; Voting for freedom and Stirling.” “I can’t fight so many. Two hundred thousand! I have no sword. I didn’t shoot them. No! I only gave the order. It hurt me, but I didn’t mean to hurt her. She’s all I have. Do you think I intended to kill her? No! No sacrifice would be too great. And you can talk to me of votes! Two hundred thousand votes! I did my best for her. I didn’t mean to hurt her. And I went to see the families. I went to see them all. If I only could think. But she is suffering too much. I can’t think as long as she lies on the rug, and trembles so. See the flashes of lightning pass through her head. Don’t bury your face in the rug. No wonder it’s all dark. Try to think, and then it will be all right.” Up from the street came the air of: “There were three crows,” and the words: “Steven Maguire has schemed to be elected November fourth, Steven Maguire has schemed to be elected November fourth. Steven Maguire has schemed and schemed, But all his schemes will end in froth! And the people will all shout, Hurrah, rah, rah, rah. And the people will all shout, Hurrah, rah, rah, rah. “For Peter Stirling elected will be upon November fourth, For Peter Stirling elected will be upon November fourth, For Peter Stirling elected will be And Steven Maguire will be in broth, And the people will all shout, Hurrah, rah, rah, rah, And the people will all shout, Hurrah, rah, rah, rah.”