“Order!  To your places!  You forget that there is still a document to be read.”  When quiet had been restored he took up the document, and was going to read it, but laid it down again saying “I forgot; this is not to be read until all written communications received by me have first been read.”  He took an envelope out of his pocket, removed its enclosure, glanced at it—­seemed astonished—­held it out and gazed at it—­stared at it.

Twenty or thirty voices cried out

“What is it?  Read it! read it!”

And he did—­slowly, and wondering: 

“’The remark which I made to the stranger—­[Voices.  “Hello! how’s this?"]—­was this:  ’You are far from being a bad man. [Voices.  “Great Scott!”] Go, and reform.’” [Voice.  “Oh, saw my leg off!”] Signed by Mr. Pinkerton the banker.”

The pandemonium of delight which turned itself loose now was of a sort to make the judicious weep.  Those whose withers were unwrung laughed till the tears ran down; the reporters, in throes of laughter, set down disordered pot-hooks which would never in the world be decipherable; and a sleeping dog jumped up scared out of its wits, and barked itself crazy at the turmoil.  All manner of cries were scattered through the din:  “We’re getting rich—­two Symbols of Incorruptibility!—­without counting Billson!” “Three!—­count Shadbelly in—­we can’t have too many!” “All right—­Billson’s elected!” “Alas, poor Wilson! victim of two thieves!”

A Powerful Voice.  “Silence!  The Chair’s fished up something more out of its pocket.”

Voices.  “Hurrah!  Is it something fresh?  Read it! read! read!”

The Chair [reading]. “‘The remark which I made,’ etc.  ’You are far from being a bad man.  Go,’ etc.  Signed, ‘Gregory Yates.’”

Tornado of Voices.  “Four Symbols!” “’Rah for Yates!” “Fish again!”

The house was in a roaring humour now, and ready to get all the fun out of the occasion that might be in it.  Several Nineteeners, looking pale and distressed, got up and began to work their way towards the aisles, but a score of shouts went up: 

“The doors, the doors—­close the doors; no Incorruptible shall leave this place!  Sit down, everybody!” The mandate was obeyed.

“Fish again!  Read! read!”

The Chair fished again, and once more the familiar words began to fall from its lips—­“‘You are far from being a bad man—­’”

“Name! name!  What’s his name?”

“‘L.  Ingoldsby Sargent.’”

“Five elected!  Pile up the Symbols!  Go on, go on!”

“‘You are far from being a bad—­’”

“Name! name!”

“‘Nicholas Whitworth.’”

“Hooray! hooray! it’s a symbolical day!”

Somebody wailed in, and began to sing this rhyme (leaving out “it’s”) to the lovely “Mikado” tune of “When a man’s afraid of a beautiful maid;” the audience joined in, with joy; then, just in time, somebody contributed another line—­