Braunt turned as if on a pivot, and rushed at the secretary. The latter stepped nimbly back, and one of his supporters, with a running jump and hop, planted his boot squarely in Braunt’s stomach. The impetus was so great, and the assault so sudden and unexpected, that Braunt, powerful as he was, doubled up like a two-foot rule, and fell backward from the platform to the floor. Instantly a dozen men pounced upon him, and hustled him, in spite of his striking out right and left, through the open door into the alley. The door was closed and bolted in the twinkling of an eye--Braunt outside and his assailants within. It was all so neatly and so quickly done, that the police, who had been on the alert for some time, only reached the spot when the door was bolted. The crowd, with but the vaguest general notion of what had happened, beyond the sudden backward collapse of Braunt, raised a wild cheer for which Gibbons was thankful. He did not wish them to know that Braunt had been taken in hand by the police outside, and he had been very anxious, if an arrest were inevitable, that it should not take place in the hall, for then even Braunt’s violent tirade would not have prevented universal sympathy turning towards him. While the cheer was ringing up to the roof, Gibbons had heard a terrific blow delivered against the door, a blow that nearly burst in the bolt and made the faces of those standing near turn pale. Another crashing hit shattered the panel and gave a glimpse for one moment of bleeding knuckles. Then there was an indication of a short sharp struggle in the alley, and all was quiet save the reverberating echo of the cheer. Gibbons strode to the front of the platform, and held up his hand for silence. “I am very sorry,” he said, “that the last speaker made some remarks which ought not to have been made, but let us all remember that hard words break no bones. However, there has been enough talk for one night, and it is time to proceed to business. Gentlemen, you have heard the report of the committee--what is your pleasure?” “I move,” said a man, rising in the middle of the hall, “that we go on strike.” “I second that motion,” cried several voices. “Put the motion,” whispered Gibbons to the bewildered chairman. Scimmins rose to his feet. “You have all heard the motion,” he said. “All in favour say aye.” A seemingly universal shout of “Aye” arose. The chairman was on the point of resuming his seat when Gibbons, in a quick aside, said: “Contrary.” “All to the contrary,” called out the chairman, hovering between sitting and standing. There was no dissent, for Marsten had left to see what had become of his friend, and the timorous men had stolen away when they detected signs of disturbance. “Motion’s carried,” said Scimmins, seating himself with every indication of relief. “Unanimously,” added Gibbons loudly, unable to conceal his satisfaction with the result. CHAPTER IX.