’Our folk own themselves.  They were of opinion things were going too far and too fiery.  I warned the Serviles; but they’re born house-dwellers.  Unless a fact hits ’em on the head they cannot see it.  Would you believe me, they went on to talk of what they called “popular government”?  They did!  They wanted us to go back to the old Voodoo-business of voting with papers and wooden boxes, and word-drunk people and printed formulas, and news-sheets!  They said they practised it among themselves about what they’d have to eat in their flats and hotels.  Yes, sir!  They stood up behind Bluthner’s doubled ground-circuits, and they said that, in this present year of grace, to self-owning men and women, on that very spot!  Then they finished’—­he lowered his voice cautiously—­’by talking about “The People.”  And then Bluthner he had to sit up all night in charge of the circuits because he couldn’t trust his men to keep ‘em shut.’

’It was trying ’em too high,’ the Chief of Police broke in.  ’But we couldn’t hold the Crowd ground-circuited for ever.  I gathered in all the Serviles on charge of Crowd-making, and put ’em in the water-tower, and then I let things cut loose.  I had to!  The District lit like a sparked gas-tank!’

‘The news was out over seven degrees of country,’ the Mayor continued; ’and when once it’s a question of invasion of privacy, good-bye to right and reason in Illinois!  They began turning out traffic-lights and locking up landing-towers on Thursday night.  Friday, they stopped all traffic and asked for the Board to take over.  Then they wanted to clean Chicago off the side of the Lake and rebuild elsewhere—­just for a souvenir of “The People” that the Serviles talked about.  I suggested that they should slag the Old Market where the meeting was held, while I turned in a call to you all on the Board.  That kept ’em quiet till you came along.  And—­and now you can take hold of the situation.’

‘Any chance of their quieting down?’ De Forest asked.

‘You can try,’ said the Mayor.

De Forest raised his voice in the face of the reviving Crowd that had edged in towards us.  Day was come.

‘Don’t you think this business can be arranged?’ he began.  But there was a roar of angry voices: 

’We’ve finished with Crowds!  We aren’t going back to the Old Days!  Take us over!  Take the Serviles away!  Administer direct or we’ll kill ’em!  Down with The People!’

An attempt was made to begin MacDonough’s Song.  It got no further than the first line, for the Victor Pirolo sent down a warning drone on one stopped horn.  A wrecked side-wall of the Old Market tottered and fell inwards on the slag-pools.  None spoke or moved till the last of the dust had settled down again, turning the steel case of Salad’s Statue ashy grey.

‘You see you’ll just have to take us over,’ the Mayor whispered.

De Forest shrugged his shoulders.