The officer then pulled out of his pocket a large revolver, and, brandishing it in the air, asked:
“Shall I kill that bloodhound?”
TURNING THE TABLES.
The women cried out in a chorus: “Yes, yes; kill him!” The men, however, did not like the proposition. One of them said: “Don’t kill him here; take him out somewhere else and shoot him.” This seemed to meet with general approval.
The turn of affairs completely surprised the stranger, and he became so frightened that he could not speak. No one in the meeting knew him, and he was powerless to speak in his own defense. The officer held his revolver directed at the man’s face and kept toying with it in the vicinity of his nose. Finally the fellow stammered out:
“I am all right, and you will find me out so.”
At last the women again broke in, with a demand that the intruder be immediately ejected, and the men responded promptly by kicking him out of the door. He had no sooner reached the outside than he started on a keen run, in momentary dread of his life, and he kept up his rapid gait until he thought he was at a safe distance.
The officer was then the hero of the moment, but he recognized the fact that he himself was not absolutely safe after this episode. It occurred to him that possibly the stranger might hunt up some one on Milwaukee Avenue who could identify him and assure the meeting that he was a true and reliable Anarchist, and thus turn the tables against the officer. The moment, therefore, he had regained his seat, he decided to resort to strategy, and said: