"Considering that this is supposed to be a meeting of the Executive Committee of the League," he said, "it would be more in accord with the usual procedure if any motions made to it were made by members of the Committee. Mr. Yeates is not even a member of the League." "_Sit_ down!" said the voice from the back row. "Oh, sit _down_!" echoed a neighbor wearily. "We can easy find somebody else if Yeates won’t do!" cried another voice. "I am well aware of that," said Luke, "and so I don’t propose to quibble——" "Ain’t he obligin’?" called the back-row man. "And besides," Luke continued, "if you would only listen to me for a minute, you’ll find out that I came here with my mind made up to do just what you’re now asking me to do." He could feel their amazement at his words and so he no longer heeded the back-row man’s comment: "You mean you came here to sit down?" "Have I the floor?" asked Luke of Venable. The chairman writhed. "In that case," Luke pursued, choosing to accept Venable’s movement as a sign of assent, "I only want to say that I made up my mind this morning, _of my own free will_, to leave the ticket and the League." He was interrupted by a roar of disapproval. The crowd had recovered its wits. Resignation would not suit its purpose. Dismissal alone would suit that. A turmoil of voices arose. As if to climb above their noise, Luke stood on tiptoe. "Because this morning," he shouted, "I discovered——" Old Venable banged his desk with the gavel "Out of order!" he bawled. Luke waved him down. "That this League," he yelled, "was as corrupt as——" They were all on their feet. Some were standing on their chairs. The men next to Luke tugged at his coat. Other men rushed at him crying threats. They shook their fists and cursed him. Luke was as mad as any of them now. His hands struck out at the twisting figures about him. The tendons of his throat swelled like knots as he screamed: "——as corrupt as its enemies! Corrupt! Corrupt! Corrupt! And I leave you to your own rottenness!" He fought his way through them to the door. He flung one man across a chair that crashed under its sudden burden. Another man who stood in his way, he struck with an upper-cut under the chin and sent him bouncing against the wall. Hooting, swearing, yelling, they crowded behind him, and he fought his way clear and almost ran through the outer room full of astonished stenographers. A girl ran after him. "Someone was wantin’ you on the telephone, Mr. Huber," she panted. "I think he said his name was Forbes and I know he said it was very important." Luke paused, looked at her as if she were speaking an alien tongue and, unanswering, pressed on to the elevators. §5. What now?