“Hold on, Matt!” cried Joe, springing at me and seizing me, “Where are you
going?”
“To tell them what I think of them,” replied I, sweeping him aside. For my
blood was up, and I was enraged against the poor cowardly fools.
“For God's sake don't show yourself!” he begged. “If you don't care for
your own life, think of the rest of us. We've fixed a route through
buildings and under streets up to Broadway. Your electric is waiting for
you there.”
“It won't do,” I said. “I'll face 'em--it's the only way.”
I went to the window, and was about to throw up one of the sunblinds for
a look at them; Crawford stopped me. “They'll stone the building and then
storm it,” said he. “You must go at once, by the route we've arranged.”
“Even if you tell them I'm gone, they won't believe it,” replied I.
“We can look out for that,” said Joe, eager to save me, and caring nothing
about consequences to himself. But I had unsettled the inspector.
“Send for my electric to come down here,” said I. “I'll go out alone and
get in it and drive away.”
“That'll never do!” cried Joe.
But the inspector said: “You're right, Mr. Blacklock. It's a bare chance.
You may take 'em by surprise. Again, some fellow may yell and throw a stone
and--” He did not need to finish.
Joe looked wildly at me. “You mustn't do it, Matt!” he exclaimed. “You'll
precipitate a riot, Crawford, if you permit this.”
But the inspector was telephoning for my electric. Then he went into the
adjoining room, where he commanded a view of the entrance. Silence between
Joe and me until he returned.
“The electric is coming down the street,” said he.