ng is the law of force!----"

"You bet!" remarked the police captain, genially, and, turning his
back, he walked away up the aisle toward the rear of the hall, while
all around him from the audience came a savage muttering.

Bromberg's growling voice grew harsher and deeper as he resumed: "I
tell you that there is only one law left for proletariat and tyrant
alike! It is the law of force!"

As the audience applauded fiercely, a man near them stood up and
shouted for a hearing.

"Comrade Bromberg is right!" he cried, waving his arms excitedly.
"There is only one real law in the world! The fit survive! The unfit
die! The strong take what they desire! The weak perish. That is the
law of life! That is the----"

An amazing interruption checked him--a clear, crystalline peal of
laughter; and the astounded audience saw a tall, fresh, yellow-haired
girl standing up midway down the hall. It was Ilse Westgard, unable to
endure such nonsense, and quite regardless of Brisson's detaining hand
and Shotwell's startled remonstrance.

"What that man says is absurd!" she cried, her fresh young voice still
gay with laughter. "He looks like a Prussian, and if he is he ought to
know where the law of force has landed his nation."

In the ominous silence around her, Ilse turned and gaily surveyed the
audience.

"The law of force is the law of robbers," she said. "That is why this
war has been fought--to educate robbers. And if there remain any
robbers they'll have to be educated. Don't let anybody tell you that
the law of force is the law of life!----"

"Who are you?" interrupted Bromberg hoarsely.

"An ex-soldier of the Death Battalion, comrade," said Ilse cheerfully.
"I used a rifle in behalf of the law of education. Sometimes bayonets
educate, sometimes machine guns. But the sensible way is to have a
meeting, and everybody drink tea and smoke cigarettes and discuss
their troubles without reserve, and then take a vote as to what is
best for everybody concerned."

And she seated herself with a smile just as the inevitable uproar
began.

All around her now men and women were shouting at her; inflamed faces
ringed her; gesticulating fists waved in the air.

"What are you--a spy for Kerensky?" yelled a man in Russian.

"The bourgeoisie has its agents here!" bawled a red-haired Jew. "I
offer a solemn protest----"

"Agent provocateur!" cried many voices. "Pay no attention to her! Go
on with the debate!"

An I. W. W.--a thin,