Involuntarily Drew wheeled toward the reporters' table, wild terror in his eyes. He had forgotten that the press was there; all in a rush, he realized what those silent, almost effaced dozen young men meant—the giant of the brazen lungs who would in a few brief hours be shrieking into every ear, from ocean to ocean, the damning insinuations of Armstrong. He tried to speak, but only a rattling sound issued from his throat.
"As the reporters are present," Roberts went on pitilessly—he had seen too much of the tragic side of life in his years as Indian fighter and cowboy to be moved simply by tragedy without regard to its cause—"I think, and I believe the rest of the committee think, that you will have to answer Mr. Armstrong's grave charges."
Drew collected himself. "I doubt if a reputable counsel has ever been subjected to such indignities," said he in his slow, dignified way. "I not only decline to enter into a degrading controversy, I also decline to serve longer as counsel to a committee which has so frankly put itself in a position to have its work discredited from the outset."
"Then you admit," said Roberts, "that you have entered into improper negotiations with parties interested to queer this investigation?"
"Such a charge is preposterous," replied Drew.
"You admit that you deceived us a few moments ago as to your relations with this judge?" pursued Roberts.
Drew made no answer. He was calmly gathering together his papers.
"I suggest that some one move that Mr. Drew's resignation be not accepted, but that he be dismissed."
"I so move," said Reed, the attorney-general of Iowa.
"Second," said Bissell, a San Franciscan.