To the majority of those who thronged Seaton Street the effect of Salt's sudden--instantaneous, as it seemed--and unexpected appearance was to endow it with a dramatic, almost an uncanny, value. The front rows, especially those standing about the steps, fell back, and the further rows pressed forward. And because an undisciplined mob stricken by acute surprise must express its emotion outwardly--by silence if it has hitherto been noisy, and by exclamation if it has been silent--the shouts and turmoil in the street instantly dwindled away to nothing, like a breath of vapour passing from a window pane. Salt raised his hand, and he had the tribute of unstirring silence, the silence for the moment of blank astonishment. "My friends and enemies," he said, in a voice that had learned self-possession from the same school that Demosthenes had practised in, "you have been calling me for some time. In a few minutes I must listen to whatever you have to say, but first there is another matter that we must arrange. I take it for granted that when you began your spirited demonstration here you had no idea that there was a lady in the building. Not being accustomed to the sterner side of politics, so formidable a display rather disconcerted her, and not knowing the invariable chivalry of English working men, she hesitated to come out before. Now, as it is dark, and the streets of London are not what they once were, I want half a dozen good stout fellows to see the lady safely to her home." "Be damned!" growled a voice among the mass. "What do you take us for?" "Men," retorted Salt incisively; "or there would be no use in asking you." "Yes, men, but famished, desperate, werewolf men," cried a poor, gaunt creature clad in grotesque rags, who stood near. "Men who have seen _our_ women starve and sink before our eyes; men who have watched _our_ children dying by a slower, crooler death than fire. An eye for an eye, tyrant! Your League has struck at _our_ women folk through us." "Then strike at ours through us!" cried Salt, stilling with the measured passion of his voice the rising murmurs of assent. "I am here to offer you a substitute. Do you think that no woman will mourn for me?" He sent his voice ringing over their heads like a prophetic knell. "The cause that must stoop to take the life of a defenceless woman is lost for ever." As long as he could offer them surprises he could hold the mere mob in check, but there was among the crowd an element that was not of the crowd, a chosen sprinkling who were superior to the swaying passions of the moment. "Not good enough," said a decently-dressed, comfortable-looking man, who had little that was famished, desperate, or wolfish in his appearance. "You're both there, and there you shall both stay, by God! Eh, comrades?" He spoke decisively, and made a movement as though he would head a rush towards the steps.