"I might accuse you of a hundred
murders, sir, with much more justice. Where are your police when our
citizens are slain? What are your courts but strongholds of political
iniquity?" He raised his arm and with a dramatic gesture, pointed toward
the city hall. "Go, Mayor Brenham, rouse your jackals of pretended
law.... The people have risen. At the Plaza in an hour you shall see
what Justice means."
Several voices cheered. Brenham, overwhelmed, inarticulate before this
outburst, turned and strode away. Broderick walked on thoughtfully. It
was evident that the people were aroused past curbing. As he neared the
city hall, Constable Charles Elleard approached him anxiously.
"There's going to be trouble, isn't there?" he asked. "What shall we do?
We've less than a hundred men, Mr. Broderick. Perhaps we could get
fifty more."
"Whatever happens, don't use firearms," Broderick cautioned. "One shot
will set the town afire tonight." He came closer to the officer and
whispered, "Make a show of interference, that's all.... If possible see
that Sheriff Hayes' pistols don't go off.... You understand? I know
what's best."
Elleard nodded. Broderick went on. Soon he heard the tramp of many feet.
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