Ditmar was stunned; he could only stare at her.

“If I have a child,” she said, “I’ll—­I’ll kill you—­I’ll kill myself.”

And before he could reply—­if indeed he had been able to reply—­she had left the office and was running down the stairs....

CHAPTER XIV

What was happening to Hampton?  Some hundreds of ignorant foreigners, dissatisfied with the money in their pay envelopes, had marched out of the Clarendon Mill and attacked the Chippering and behold, the revered structure of American Government had quivered and tumbled down like a pack of cards!  Despite the feverish assurances in the Banner “extra” that the disturbance was merely local and temporary, solid citizens became panicky, vaguely apprehending the release of elemental forces hitherto unrecognized and unknown.  Who was to tell these solid, educated business men that the crazy industrial Babel they had helped to rear, and in which they unconsciously dwelt, was no longer the simple edifice they thought it? that Authority, spelled with a capital, was a thing of the past? that human instincts suppressed become explosives to displace the strata of civilization and change the face of the world? that conventions and institutions, laws and decrees crumble before the whirlwind of human passions? that their city was not of special, but of universal significance?  And how were these, who still believed themselves to be dwelling under the old dispensation, to comprehend that environments change, and changing demand new and terrible Philosophies?  When night fell on that fateful Tuesday the voice of Syndicalism had been raised in a temple dedicated to ordered, Anglo-Saxon liberty—­the Hampton City Hall.

Only for a night and a day did the rebellion lack both a leader and a philosophy.  Meanwhile, in obedience to the unerring instinct for drama peculiar to great metropolitan dailies, newspaper correspondents were alighting from every train, interviewing officials and members of labour unions and mill agents:  interviewing Claude Ditmar, the strongest man in Hampton that day.  He at least knew what ought to be done, and even before his siren broke the silence of the morning hours in vigorous and emphatic terms he had informed the Mayor and Council of their obvious duty.  These strikers were helots, unorganized scum; the regular unions—­by comparison respectable—­held aloof from them.  Here, in effect, was his argument:  a strong show of force was imperative; if the police and deputies were inadequate, request the Governor to call out the local militia; but above all, waste no time, arrest the ringleaders, the plotters, break up all gatherings, keep the streets clear.  He demanded from the law protection of his property, protection for those whose right to continue at work was inalienable.  He was listened to with sympathy and respect—­but nothing was done!  The world had turned upside down indeed if the City Government of Hampton refused to take the advice of the agent of the Chippering Mill!  American institutions were a failure!  But such was the fact.  Some unnamed fear, outweighing their dread of the retributions of Capital, possessed these men, made them supine, derelict in the face of their obvious duty.