The door of the room was unlocked. There was a short scuffle outside, and then Sergeant Farrelly and Constable Cole were thrust in. They both looked as if they had been roughly handled. The sergeant’s tunic was torn, his right eye was beginning to swell, and there was blood on his lower lip. Mr. Red, looking very grim and determined, stalked into the room behind them. “Emperor,” said Dr. O’Grady, “this is too much. I complained to you yesterday about the habit you have got into of thrusting strange people in on top of me and Patsy. I put up with the last two, but this is more than I am going to stand.” “They remain here,” said Mr. Red, “as captives.” “Not at all,” said Dr. O’Grady. “Think it over, Emperor, and you’ll come to see that you can’t possibly leave them here. You are an anarchist, an anti-military anarchist. You’ve often told me so yourself. Now, an anarchist, as I understand his position, is absolutely pledged to every kind of social reform. Whatever anybody else may do, an anarchist can’t consistently go in for the over-crowding of tenement houses, or tolerate insanitary prisons. You see that, don’t you? If ever it got out that you’d shut up six men in one room and kept them there, your reputation would be gone. There wouldn’t be a decent anarchist anywhere in the world who’d recognize you as belonging to his party or so much as speak to you. You’d be a sort of Suraja Dowlah with a horrible Black Hole of Calcutta story cropping up against you at every turn. You simply must give these two men---- Oh, you’re going, are you? Very well. But think over what I’ve said. You’ll realize that I’m right.” Mr. Red shut the door and locked it. Sergeant Farrelly turned fiercely on Constable Cole. “You born fool,” he said, “why didn’t you strike him when I had him down?” “I’d have----” “I suppose it was planning a stratagem you were,” said the sergeant, “instead of striking when you got the chance.” “I’d have broke his head,” said Constable Cole, “if so be I’d struck him and me in the rage I was in at the time. How would I know but that it might be murder?” “Serve you right if he broke yours,” said the sergeant. “Come now,” said Dr. O’Grady, “there’s no use making a fuss. You put up a middling good fight to judge by the look of you, and you ought to be content. None of the rest of us did as much.” “Is that yourself, doctor?” said the sergeant. “It is.” “And, by the holy,” said Constable Cole, “he has Patsy Devlin along with him!” “And us thinking that the two of yez was off to America,” said the sergeant. “I heard that you thought I’d gone,” said Dr. O’Grady; “but what made you suspect poor Patsy?” “Hadn’t he the funds collected for the sports?” said the sergeant.