[For a minute no one moves; then hastily, just as Anthony is
     about to speak, WILDER’s hand and WANKLIN’S are held up, then
     SCANTLEBURY’S, and last EDGAR’S who does not lift his head.]

     [Anthony lifts his own hand.]

[In a clear voice.] The amendment is carried.  I resign my position on this Board.

     [Enid gasps, and there is dead silence.  Anthony sits
     motionless, his head slowly drooping; suddenly he heaves as
     though the whole of his life had risen up within him.]

Contrary?

Fifty years!  You have disgraced me, gentlemen.  Bring in the men!

[He sits motionless, staring before him.  The Board draws hurriedly together, and forms a group.  Tench in a frightened manner speaks into the hall.  Underwood almost forces Enid from the room.]

Wilder. [Hurriedly.] What’s to be said to them?  Why isn’t Harness here?  Ought we to see the men before he comes?  I don’t——­

Tench.  Will you come in, please?

     [Enter Thomas, green, Bulgin, and Rous, who file up in a row
     past the little table.  Tench sits down and writes.  All eyes
     are foxed on Anthony, who makes no sign.]

Wanklin. [Stepping up to the little table, with nervous cordiality.] Well, Thomas, how’s it to be?  What’s the result of your meeting?

Rous.  Sim Harness has our answer.  He’ll tell you what it is.  We’re waiting for him.  He’ll speak for us.

Wanklin.  Is that so, Thomas?

Thomas. [Sullenly.] Yes.  Roberts will not pe coming, his wife is dead.

Scantlebury.  Yes, yes!  Poor woman!  Yes!  Yes!

Frost. [Entering from the hall.] Mr. Harness, Sir!

     [As Harness enters he retires.]

     [Harness has a piece of paper in his hand, he bows to the
     Directors, nods towards the men, and takes his stand behind the
     little table in the very centre of the room.]

Harness.  Good evening, gentlemen.

     [Tench, with the paper he has been writing, joins him, they
     speak together in low tones.]

Wilder.  We’ve been waiting for you, Harness.  Hope we shall come to some——­

Frost. [Entering from the hall.] Roberts!

     [He goes.]

     [Roberts comes hastily in, and stands staring at Anthony.  His
     face is drawn and old.]

Roberts.  Mr. Anthony, I am afraid I am a little late, I would have been here in time but for something that—­has happened. [To the men.] Has anything been said?

Thomas.  No!  But, man, what made ye come?

Roberts.  Ye told us this morning, gentlemen, to go away and reconsider our position.  We have reconsidered it; we are here to bring you the men’s answer. [To Anthony.] Go ye back to London.  We have nothing for you.  By no jot or tittle do we abate our demands, nor will we until the whole of those demands are yielded.