orward, apparently with the intention of laying violent hands
upon Augusta Groold. Hyacinth Conneally started up to protect her, and
the same impulse moved a large part of the audience. There was a rush
for the platform, and a fierce, threatening yell. Mr. Shea hung back,
frightened. Augusta Goold held up her hand, and immediately the rush
stopped and the people were silent. She went on with her question,
taking it up at the exact word which Mr. Shea had interrupted, in the
same level and exquisitely irritating tone.

'--Any of the money entrusted to you by the Irish people to assist the
Boers in their struggle for freedom?'

Mr. O'Rourke had sat scowling silently since the failure of his last
attempt to explain himself. This final disjointed repetition of the
galling question roused him to the necessity of doing something. He
was a pitiful sight as he rose and confronted Augusta Goold. There
were blotches of purple red and spaces of pallor on his face; his hands
twisted together; a sweat had broken out from his neck, and made his
collar limp. His words were a stammering mixture of bluster and appeal.

'You mustn't--mustn't--mustn't interrupt the meeting,' So far he tried
to assert himself, then, with a glance at the contemptuous face of the
woman before him, he relapsed into the tone of a schoolboy who begs off
the last strokes of a caning. 'Is this nice conduct? Is it ladylike to
come here and attack us like this? Miss Goold, I'm ashamed of you.'

'I am glad to hear,' said Augusta Goold, departing for the first time
from her question, 'that there is anything left in the world that Mr.
O'Rourke is ashamed of. I didn't think there was.'

It was Mr. Shea and not his leader who resented this last insult. His
lips drew apart, leaving his teeth bare in a ghastly grin. He clenched
his fists, and stood for a moment trembling from head to foot. Then he
leaped forward towards Augusta Goold. The man who stood next Hyacinth
lurched suddenly forward, wrenched his right hand free of the crowd
round him, and flung it back behind his head. Hyacinth saw that he held
a large stone in it.

'You are a cowardly blackguard, Shea,' he yelled--'a damned, cowardly
blackguard! Would you strike a woman?'

Shea turned on the instant, saw the hand stretched back to fling the
stone. He seized the chair behind him--the very chair which, while an
appearance of politeness was still possible, Mr. O'Rourke had offered
to Augusta Goold--and flung