“Mr. Gibbons asserted that the manager had refused to consult with his employees, and I claimed that such a statement was not true. Mr. Sartwell told me himself that he was willing to receive a deputation from the men of the works. He said——”
“What’s that?” cried Gibbons, springing to his feet and taking a step forward.
“Don’t interrupt the speaker,” shouted Braunt, from the body of the hall.
“He interrupted me,” roared Gibbons, now thoroughly angry. Turning to the young man who stood there silently, waiting for statement and retort to cease, the secretary demanded:
“When did Sartwell tell you that?”
“On Tuesday night.”
“On Tuesday night!” repeated Gibbons, coming to the front of the platform. “On Tuesday night! and you have the brazen cheek to stand here and admit it.”
“Why shouldn’t I?” asked Marsten, with perceptible self-control, but whitening around his tightened lips.
“Why shouldn’t you? I’ll tell you why. Because you sneaked in behind the backs of the committee you had helped to appoint. That’s why.”
“I had no hand in appointing the committee.”