'Yes! They were only rescued with difficulty from a howling mob—if you know what that is.'
'But I don't,' answered the Great Vincent simply.
'Well then, they'll tell you themselves. They can make speeches hours long.'
'How many are there?'
'By the time we ship 'em all over they'll be perhaps a hundred, counting children. An old world in miniature. Can't you see it?'
'M-yes; but I've got to pay for it if it's a blow-out, dear man.'
'They can sing the old war songs in the streets. They can get word-drunk, and make crowds, and invade privacy in the genuine old-fashioned way; and they'll do the voting trick as often as you ask 'em a question.'
'Too good!' said Vincent.
'You unbelieving Jew! I've got a dozen head aboard here. I'll put you through direct. Sample 'em yourself.'
He lifted the switch and we listened. Our passengers on the lower deck at once, but not less than five at a time, explained themselves to Vincent. They had been taken from the bosom of their families, stripped of their possessions, given food without finger-bowls, and cast into captivity in a noisome dungeon.
'But look here,' said Arnott aghast; 'they're saying what isn't true. My lower deck isn't noisome, and I saw to the finger-bowls myself.'
'My people talk like that sometimes in Little
