"Well, sir," said he, "I don't know whether we or the hand of death will be called on to quiet them"--he paused for an instant with uplifted hand; the roar and crash and wail of the city-wide riot surged into the gap of his silence--"but if it is we," he went on, "our little arrangements are made. My men know what to do, and my men are on the job," he concluded proudly. Lyons nodded again. "We have all done our best," said he. "Now, gentlemen, I do not see how we can possibly accomplish anything more by remaining here. My automobile is in concealment in the old stable in the rear of 127. My yacht is standing off the Battery awaiting signal to come in. We have," he glanced at his watch, "over an hour before the threatened catastrophe." He looked up expectantly. The men all glanced uneasily at one another, except Simmons, who stared at his batteries stolidly. "Come, gentlemen," urged Lyons, after a moment. "There is really not much time to lose, for you know the yacht must steam beyond the danger zone." "Beat it," spoke up Simmons, at last. "There ain't any good of you here. If anything comes in, I can handle it. It's just a case of send out orders to your bulletin men." "I think I'd better stay," observed Paige, the stout young man, with an air of apology. "I know I'm not much use; but I've placed men, and they'll stick; and if this freeze-out proposition goes through--why, they're in it, and--" "That's how I feel," broke in Perkins. "But you have done your full duty, Mr. Lyons, and you have no reason to stay. Let me get your car around to you--" "Oh, I'm going to stay," said Lyons. "If you gentlemen feel it your duty, how much more is it mine! Professor Eldridge"--he bowed to the scientist--"you have done your best, which is more than any other mortal man could have done, I am sure; and you, sir--" he said to Hallowell. Eldridge and Hallowell shook their heads. "I have failed," said Eldridge. "I am a reporter," said Hallowell. "We are in the hands of God," announced Lyons with great solemnity, and folded his hands over his white waistcoat. At that moment the door slowly swung open and Percy Darrow entered. He was smoking a cigarette, his hands were thrust deep in his trousers pockets; he was hatless, and his usually smooth hair was rumpled. A tiny wound showed just above the middle of his forehead, from which a thin stream of blood had run down to his eyebrows. He surveyed the room with a humorous twinkle shining behind his long lashes. "Well, well, well, well!" he remarked in a cheerful tone of voice. "This is a nice, jolly, Quaker meeting! Why don't you get out and make a noise and celebrate, like your friends outside?" "Thought you'd ducked," remarked Hallowell. The others said nothing, but looked a grave disapproval. Darrow laughed. "No, I had to come back to see how Eldridge is getting on." He cast a glance at the scientist. "How goes it, old socks?" he inquired.