CHAPTER IX.
When Philip reached the residence of Mr.Winter, he found himself at once in the midst of a mob of howling, angry men, who surged over the lawn and tramped the light snow that was falling into a muddy mass over the walks and up the veranda steps.

A large electric lamp out in the street in front of the house threw a light over the strange scene.
Philip wedged his way in among the men, crying out his name, and asking for room to be made so that he could see Mr.Winter.The crowd, under the impulse which sometimes moves excited bodies of men, yielded to his request.

There were cries of, "Let him have a minister if he wants one!" "Room here for the priest!" "Give the preacher a chance to do some praying where it's needed mighty bad!" and so on.

Philip found a way opened for him as he struggled toward the house, and he hurried forward fearing some great trouble, but hardly prepared for what he saw when he finally reached the steps of the veranda.
Half a dozen men had the mill-owner in their grasp, having evidently dragged him out of his dining-room.

His coat was half torn off, as if there had been a struggle.