here was a sound of feet outside
the door, and after a little hesitation, six laborers entered, five of
them awkwardly and timidly, wondering what was to come. Peterson
followed, with Max, and closed the door. The members of the committee
stood in a straggling row at the railing, looking at each other and at
the floor and ceiling--anywhere but at the boss, who was sitting on the
table, sternly taking them in. James stepped to one side.

"Is this all the committee?" Bannon presently said.

The men hesitated, and Murphy, who was in the centre, answered, "Yes,
sir."

"You are the governing members of your lodge?"

There was an air of cool authority about Bannon that disturbed the men.
They had been led to believe that his power reached only the work on the
elevator, and that an attempt on his part to interfere in any way with
their organization would be an act of high-handed tyranny, "to be
resisted to the death" (Grady's words). But these men standing before
their boss, in his own office, were not the same men that thrilled with
righteous wrath under Grady's eloquence in the meetings over Barry's
saloon. So they looked at the floor and ceiling again, until Murphy at
last answered:--

"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,