Suddenly there was a tremendous sound of cracking and tearing--a crash as if the stout double outer doors had given way, a shouting, the noise of an ambulance gong, or of a police-wagon. Some people sprang up from the table, but Mr. Torby urged them to remain seated. "Hewer," he said, "go downstairs and see what is happening." Hewer immediately left the room, and did not return for a long time. In the downstairs hall Hewer found the night watchman with a dislocated wrist, several policemen, a young man mopping his brow, whom he did not at first notice, and a great deal of broken glass. The whole trouble, it appeared, had arisen over the red carpet--the Bolshevist meeting not being able to understand why, if they were not allowed to display red flags in Madison Square, Mr. Torby should be allowed to display a carpet of exactly the same hue in Fifth Avenue. In the interests of pure logic, the participants in the late meeting decided to point out this inconsistency to the municipal authorities, by cutting the Torby's carpet into small pieces and carrying them away. A number of returned sailors and soldiers, who felt perhaps that to fight for a poor cause was better than not fighting at all, had decided to defend the carpet. The complete harmony of everyone was proved by the fact that when driven away by the police-reserves, both parties were soon jointly engaged in upsetting all the ash-cans in a neighboring side-street. Hewer sent the night-watchman to the housekeeper to get his wrist bandaged, got rid of the police by giving them some of Mr. Torby's second-best cigars and a great deal of irrelevant information which they said was necessary to the preservation of order, directed that the broken glass should be swept up, and then turned his attention to the young man. "Why, Mr. Richard!" he exclaimed. "Look here, Hewer," said Mr. Richard, "I know that Miss Evington is dining here--I saw her going in, as I happened to be passing." He glanced quickly at the butler to see if there was any criticism of an officer in the United States Army hanging about doorways to watch young ladies go in and out. "Is everyone in there frightened to death over this shindy?" "Well, you know, sir," said Hewer temperately, "they have been very nervous about this Bolshevist movement for a long time; and they do seem anxious--all except Mrs. Grey, sir." "What!" cried the Captain. "Is my mother dining here?" And Hewer could see that this was the last straw--that his mother should have gone over to the enemy. Hewer was sorry, but felt it his duty to go back to the dining-room. "They are anxious, sir, for fear the mob may have overpowered the police, and I ought to go back and tell them that everything is quiet."