Revolution?
The way we're organized, the very idea's an absurdity! But, if not these, what ?" Flint stared at him with drug-contracted eyes.
"Yes, that's the question," he rapped out.

"What can it mean?
Ah, perhaps Slade can tell us," he added, as the secret-service man quietly entered through a private door at the rear of the office.
"Tell you what, gentlemen ?" asked Slade, smirking and rubbing his hands.
"The meaning of that, and that, and _that_!" snapped old Flint, thrusting the telegrams at the newcomer.
"Hm!" grunted the secret-service man, as he glanced them over.

"That's damned odd! But it's of no real moment.

If--if there's really any trouble, any outbreak or what not, of course it can't amount to anything.

All you have to do is order the President to call out the troops, and--" "Yes, I can order him, all right," snarled Flint, "but in case all our wires are down and all our wireless plants put out of commission, to say nothing of our transport service interrupted, what then?
There's no doubt in _my_ mind, Slade, that another upheaval is upon us.