Trench's features. The problem seemed to
have been solved. Gordon should have been satisfied, but he felt like
Judas picking up the thirty pieces of silver. He tried to swallow them
with the dregs of his coffee, and they stuck in his throat.

Comes the revolution and we'll all eat strawberries and scream!

A hubbub sounded outside, and Trench grimaced as a police whistle
sounded, and a Municipal cop ran by. "We're in enemy territory," he
said. "The Legals got this precinct last night. Captain Hendrix and some
of his men wanted to come back with full battle equipment and chase them
out. I had a hell of a time getting them to take it easy. I suppose that
was some damned fool who tried to go back to his beat."

"Then you'd better look again," Gordon told him. He'd gone to the door
and was peering out. Up the narrow little street was rolling a group of
about seventy Municipal police and half a dozen small trucks. The men
were wearing guns. And up the street a man in bright green uniform was
pounding his fist up and down in emphasis as he called in over the
precinct box.

"The idiot!" Trench grabbed Gordon and spun out, running toward the
advancing men. "We've got to stop this. Get my car--up the street--call
Arliss on the phone--under the dash. Or Wayne. I'll bring Hendrix."

Trench's system made some sense, and this business of marching as to war
made none at all. Gordon grabbed the phone from under the dash. A sleepy
voice answered to say that Commissioner Arliss and Mayor Wayne were
sleeping. They'd had a hard night, and...

"Damn it, there's a rebellion going on!" Gordon told the man. Rebellion,
rebellion! He'd meant to say revolution, but...

Trench was arguing frantically with the pompous figure of Captain
Hendrix. From the other end of the street, a group of small cars
appeared; and men began piling out, all in shiny green.

"Who's this?" the phone asked. When Gordon identified himself, there was
a snort of disgust. "Yes, yes, congratulations. Trench was quite right;
you're fully authorized. Did you call me out of bed just to check on
that, young man?"

"No, I--" Then he hung up. Hendrix had dropped to his knees and fired
before Trench could knock the gun from his hands.

There was no answering fire. The Legals simply came boiling down the
street, equipped with long pikes with lead-weighted ends. And Hendrix
came charging up, his men straggling behind him. Gordon was squarely in
the middle. He considered