The chairman paused; Bonbright's neighbors turned to stare; men all over the hall rose and craned their necks to have a view of the interrupter.
"Sit down!…Shut up!" came cries from here and there. Then other cries, angry cries. "It's Foote!… It's the boss! Out with him!… Out with him!"
"Mr. Chairman," said Bonbright, "I realize this is unusual, but I hope you will allow me to be heard. Every man here must admit that I am vitally interested in what takes place here to-night…. I come in a friendly spirit, and I have something to say which is important to me and to you. I ask you to hear me. I will be brief…"
"Out with him!… No!… Throw him out!" came yells from the floor. The house was on its feet, jostling, surging. Men near to Bonbright hesitated. One man reached over the shoulders of his fellows and struck at Bonbright. Another shoved him back.
"Let him talk…. Let's hear him," arose counter-cries. The meeting threatened to get beyond control, to become a mob.
The chairman, familiar with the men he dealt with, acted quickly. He turned to Dulac and whispered, then faced the hall with hands upheld.
"Mr. Foote is here uninvited," he said. "He requests to be heard. Let us show him that we are reasonable, that we are patient…. Mr. Dulac agrees to surrender a portion of his time to Mr. Foote. Let us hear what he has to say."
Bonbright pushed his way toward the aisle and moved forward. Once he stumbled, and almost fell, as a man thrust out a foot to trip him—and the hall laughed.
"Speak your piece. Speak it nice," somebody called, and there was another laugh. This was healthier, safer.
Bonbright mounted the platform and advanced to its edge.