Her amazement was deepened by the mayor's mild
rejoinder.
"Very well, Senator. I have an excellent understanding with that mob."
"Making speeches to a mob!" Lana gasped. "I'll not allow even my father to
say that about you, Stewart, and leave it undisputed."
"Your father is angry just now, Lana! Any discussion will provoke further
unpleasantness!"
"Confound you! Don't you dare to insult me by your condescending airs,"
thundered Corson. "You have your orders. Go and mix with your rabble and
continue that understanding with 'em, if you can make 'em understand that
law and order must prevail in this city to-night."
The library was in a wing of the mansion, far from the street, and the
three persons behind the screen had been entirely absorbed in their
troubled affairs. They had heard none of the sounds from the street.
Somebody began to call in the corridor outside the library. The voice
sounded above the music from the ballroom, and quavered with anxious
entreaty as it demanded, over and over: "Senator Corson! Where are you,
Senator Corson?"
"Here!" replied the Senator.
The secretary rushed in. "There's a mob outside, sir! A threatening mob!"
"Ah! Morrison, your friends are looking you up!"
"They are radicals--anarchists.
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