"Yes, sir."

Bannon waited again, knowing that every added moment of silence gave him
the firmer control.

"I have nothing to say about the government of your organization," he
said, speaking slowly and coldly. "I have brought you here to ask you this
question, Have you voted to strike?"

The silence was deep. Peterson, leaning against the closed door, held his
breath; Max, sitting on the railing with his elbow thrown over the desk,
leaned slightly forward. The eyes of the laborers wandered restlessly
about the room. They were disturbed, taken off their guard; they needed
Grady. But the thought of Grady was followed by the consciousness of the
silent figure of the new man, James, standing behind them. Murphy's first
impulse was to lie. Perhaps, if James had not been there, he would have
lied. As it was, he glanced up two or three times, and his lips as many
times framed themselves about words that did not come. Finally he said,
mumbling the words:--

"No, we ain't voted for no strike."

"There has been no such decision made by your organization?"

"No, I guess not."

Bannon turned to Peterson.

"Mr. Peterson, will you please find Mr. Grady and bring him here."

Max and Peterson hurried out together. Bannon drew up the chair, and
turned his back on the committee, going on with his figuring. Not a word
was said; the men hardly moved; and the minutes went slowly by. Then there
was a stir outside, and the sound of low voices. The door flew open,
admitting Grady, who stalked to the railing, choking with anger. Max, who
immediately followed, was grinning, his eyes resting on a round spot of
dust on Grady's shoulder, and on his torn collar and disarranged tie.
Peterson came in last, and carefully closed the door--his eyes were
blazing, and one sleeve was rolled up over his bare forearm. Neither of
them spoke. If anything in the nature of an assault had seemed necessary
in dragging the delegate to the office, there had been no witnesses. And
he had entered the room of his own accord.

Grady was at a disadvantage, and he knew it. Breathing hard, his face red,
his little eyes darting about the room, he took it all in--the members of
the Committee; the boss, figuring at the table, with an air of
exasperating coolness about his lean back; and last of all, James,
standing in the shadow. It was the sight of the new man that checked the
storm of words that was pressing on Grady's tongue. But he finally
gathered himself