Meanwhile Donnelly set the wires humming. He finally got Bennington at the shops.
"This is Mr. Bennington. Who is it and what is wanted?"
"This is the mayor talking."
"Oh! Well, what is it, Mr. Donnelly?"
"I must see you at once in my office. This is an urgent request. I can't explain the matter over the wire. But you'll do yourself and me a great favor if you'll come into town at once."
"Very important?"
"Extremely so."
"I shall be there at five o'clock."
"Thanks. I shall await you." Donnelly hung up the receiver, very well satisfied.
Bennington understood. Politics was going to take a hand in the game. After all, it was best to take the bull by the horns at once and have it over with. He knew how well he had fortified himself against any political machinery. So, promptly at a quarter to five, he departed, leaving explicit orders with his subordinates. The strikers moved aside for him, muttering and grumbling, but they made no effort to impede his progress. There were groans and catcalls, but that was all. He looked neither to the right nor to the left, but presented his back to them fearlessly. Chittenden, upon Bennington's advice, had gone to New York. The strikers would have used him roughly, could they have laid hands on him.