“Power has been sucked dry, out of them all, comrades.  You know as well as I know—­better, perhaps—­that all real power in the world, today, whether economic or political—­nay, even the power of life and death, the power of breath or strangulation, has clotted at Niagara, in the central offices of the Air Trust; nay, right in Flint and Waldron’s own inner office!”

Gabriel had stood up, while speaking; and now, pacing the floor of the big living-room, glanced first at one eager and familiar face, then at another.

“Comrades,” said he, “we should not sleep, tonight.  We should get out all our plans and data, all the dispatches that have come to us here, all the information at hand about our organization, whether open or subterranean.  We should make this room and this time, in fact, the place and the hour for the planning of the last great blow on which hangs the fate of the world.  If it succeed, the human race goes free again.  If it fail—­and God forbid!—­then the whole world will lie in the grip of Flint and Waldron!  With our other centers broken up and under espionage, our press forced into impotence—­save our underground press—­and political action now rendered farcical as ever it was in Mexico, when Diaz ruled, we have but one recourse!”

“And that is?” asked Catherine.  “The general strike?”

“A final, general, paralyzing strike; and with it, the actual, physical destruction of the colossal crime of crimes, the Air Trust works at Niagara!”

A little silence followed.  They all drew round the reading-table, now, near the fireplace.  Mrs. Grantham brought a lamp; and Brevard, opening a chest near the book-case, fetched a portfolio of papers, dispatches, plans, reports and data of all kinds.

“Gabriel’s right,” said he.  “The time is ripe, now, or will be in a week or so.  Nothing can be gained by delaying any longer.  Every day adds to their power and may weaken ours.  Our organization, for the strike and the attack on the works, is as complete as we can make it.  We must come to extreme measures, at once, or world-strangulation will set in, and we shall be eternally too late!”

“Extreme measures, yes,” said Gabriel, while Brevard spread the papers out and sorted them, and Craig drew contemplatively at his pipe.  “The masters would have it so.  Our one-time academic discussion about ways and means has become absurd, in the face of plutocratic savagery.  We’re up against facts, now, not theories.  God knows it’s against the dictates of my heart to do what must be done; but it’s that or stand back and see the world be murdered, together with our own selves!  And in a case of self-defense, no measures are unjustifiable.