Meanwhile Porter and McNally in the other office were discussing
probabilities and possibilities and thinking of a good many others which
neither of them cared to discuss, though all were in their way pleasant.
Suddenly they were interrupted by the apparition of Buttons. His eyes were
rounder than ever, and his white hair looked as though some one had tried
to drag it out of his head.

"Please, sir," he gasped, "Mr. Thompson wants to see you right away."

Porter jumped to his feet and fairly ran out of the room. As he turned
into the hall a muffled uproar greeted his ears, and it made him hurry the
faster. But McNally stayed where he was. He, too, heard the strange noise,
but he felt that he would not be able to do any good by going in there.
McNally did not "come out strong" amid scenes of violence. His heart
troubled him.

It was not more than five minutes before Porter came back. His face was a
study.

"They're raising hell in there," he said. "Weeks's judge has just served
an injunction that kicks Thompson and Wing and Powers off the board.
Thompson just curled up,--he was almost too scared to breathe,--and Wing
seemed to be having some sort of a fit. There was one idiot up on the
table yelling that the meeting was adjourned and trying to give three
cheers for Weeks." (It was the man with the telegram.)

"Well," said McNally, "what's going to happen next?"

"I don't know," said Porter, breathlessly. "I don't see that anything can