And so he had come on the job this evening, at a time when he supposed Bannon safe in bed, and delivered his ultimatum.  Not that he had any hope of carrying the strike through without some sort of a collision with the boss, but he well knew that an encounter after the strike had gathered momentum would be easier than one before.  Bannon might be able to outwit an individual, even Grady himself, but he would find it hard to make headway against an angry mob.  And now Grady was pacing stiffly about the Belt Line yards, while the minute hand of his watch crept around toward ten o’clock.  Even if Bannon should be called within the hour, a few fiery words to those sweating gangs on the distributing floor should carry the day.  But Grady did not think that this would be necessary.  He was still in the mistake of supposing that Peterson and the boss were at cuts, and he had arrived, by a sort of reasoning that seemed the keenest strategy, at the conclusion that Peterson would take the opportunity to settle the matter himself.  In fact, Grady had evolved a neat little campaign, and he was proud of himself.

Bannon did not have to wait long.  Soon there was a sound of feet outside the door, and after a little hesitation, six laborers entered, five of them awkwardly and timidly, wondering what was to come.  Peterson followed, with Max, and closed the door.  The members of the committee stood in a straggling row at the railing, looking at each other and at the floor and ceiling—­anywhere but at the boss, who was sitting on the table, sternly taking them in.  James stepped to one side.

“Is this all the committee?” Bannon presently said.

The men hesitated, and Murphy, who was in the centre, answered, “Yes, sir.”

“You are the governing members of your lodge?”

There was an air of cool authority about Bannon that disturbed the men.  They had been led to believe that his power reached only the work on the elevator, and that an attempt on his part to interfere in any way with their organization would be an act of high-handed tyranny, “to be resisted to the death” (Grady’s words).  But these men standing before their boss, in his own office, were not the same men that thrilled with righteous wrath under Grady’s eloquence in the meetings over Barry’s saloon.  So they looked at the floor and ceiling again, until Murphy at last answered:—­

“Yes, sir.”

Bannon waited again, knowing that every added moment of silence gave him the firmer control.

“I have nothing to say about the government of your organization,” he said, speaking slowly and coldly.  “I have brought you here to ask you this question, Have you voted to strike?”