CHAPTER IX.
DISCHARGED.
Almost all the following morning, working at his bench in the electro-chemical laboratories of the great Oakwood Heights plant, Gabriel Armstrong pondered deeply on the problems and responsibilities now opening out before him.
The finding of that little red-leather note-book, he fully understood, had at one stroke put him in possession of facts more vital to the labor-movement and the world at large than any which had ever developed since the very beginning of Capitalism.

A Socialist to the backbone, thoroughly class-conscious and dowered with an incisive intellect, Gabriel thrilled at thought that he, by chance, had been chosen as the instrument through which he felt the final revolution now must work.

And though he remained outwardly calm, as he bent above his toil, inwardly he was aflame.

His heart throbbed with an excitement he could scarce control.

His brain seemed on fire; his soul pulsed with savage joy and magnificent inspiration.