LAURA. Yes; I know.

JACK. There'd been all kinds of monkey-work going on, and the box was
full of marked and defective ballots, and Montague set to work to make
them throw them out. I didn't pay much attention at first. I was only
there to see that our own ballots were counted; but pretty soon I
began to take interest. He had every one in the place against him.
There was a Tammany inspector of elections and four tally clerks . . .
all in with Tammany, of course. There were three or four Tammany
policemen, and, outside of the railing, the worst crowd of toughs that
ever you laid eyes on. To make matters worse, there were several men
inside who had no business to be there . . . one of them a Judge of
the City Court, and another a State's attorney . . . and all of them
storming at Montague.

JULIA. What did he do?

JACK. He just made them throw out the marked ballots. They were
willing enough to put them to one side, but wanted to count them in on
the tally sheets. And, of course, Montague knew perfectly well that if
they ever counted them in they'd close up at the end, and that would
be all there was to it. He had the law with him, of course. He's a
lawyer himself, and he seemed to know it all by heart; and he'd quote
it to them, paragraph by paragraph, and they'd look it up and find
that he was right, and, of course, that only made them madder. The old
Judge would start up in his seat. "Officer!" he'd shout (he was a red-
faced, ignorant fellow . . . a typical barroom politician, "I demand
that you put that man out of here." And the cop actually laid his hand
on Montague's shoulder; if he'd ever been landed on the other side of
that railing the crowd would have torn him to pieces. But the man