Jane, bearing the megaphone, slipped by an aperture into the space between the two walls, and Audrey followed. Nobody gave attention to them except the second loud man, who winked the wink of knowledge. The fact was that both the loud men, being unalterable Tories, had been very willing to connive at Jane Foley's scheme for the affliction of a Radical Minister. The two girls over the wall had an excellent and appetising view of the upper part of the side of the Imperial Hall, and of its high windows, the nearest of which was scarcely thirty feet away. "Hold this, will you?" said Jane, handing the megaphone to Audrey. Jane drew from its concealment in her dress a small piece of iron to which was attached a coloured streamer bearing certain words. She threw, with a strong movement of the left arm, because she was left-handed. She had practised throwing; throwing was one of her several specialties. The bit of iron, trailing its motto like a comet its tail, flew across space and plumped into the window with a pleasing crash and disappeared, having triumphed over uncounted police on the outskirts and a hundred and fifty stewards within. A roar from the interior of the hall supervened, and varied cries. "Give me the meg," said Jane gently. The next instant she was shouting through the megaphone, an instrument which she had seriously studied: "Votes for women. Why do you torture women? Votes for women. Why do you torture women?" The uproar increased and subsided. A masterful voice resounded within the interior. Many people rushed out of the hall. And there was a great scurry of important and puzzled feet within a radius of a score of yards. "I think I'll try the next window," said Jane, handing over the megaphone. "You shout while I throw." Audrey's heart was violently beating. She took the megaphone and put it to her lips, but no sound would come. Then, as though it were breaking through an obstacle, the sound shot forth, and to Audrey it was a gigantic voice that functioned quite independently of her will. Tremendously excited by the noise, she bawled louder and still louder. "I've missed," said Jane calmly in her ear. "That's enough, I think. Come along." "But they can't possibly see us," said Audrey, breathless, lowering the instrument. "Come along, dear," Jane Foley insisted. People with open mouths were crowding at the aperture of the inner wall, but, Jane going first, both girls pushed safely through the throng. The wheel had stopped. The entire congregation was staring agog, and in two seconds everybody divined, or had been nudged to the effect, that Jane and Audrey were the authoresses of the pother. Jane still leading, they made for the exit. But the first loud man rushed chivalrously in. "Perlice!" he cried. "Two bobbies a-coming."