But whatever it was that should not be taken the assembled and stunned crowd were never to learn, for the man was abruptly and vigorously cut off as a crush of constables and uniformed military men and other anonymously dressed gentlemen whose presence, up to this moment, no one had noticed and who might have been in the employ of the government or might just happened to have been passing, surged at the man and he disappeared beneath a flurry of hats and coats and arms and legs and boots. A number of the wives screamed, many of the members of the Legislative Assembly exclaimed in horror and dismay, and more than one cried, ‘Save the Premier, secure Mr Reid,’ and one or two, less partisan, enquired of the Leader of the Opposition, ‘Where is Mr Barton? Is he safe?’ and for a time chaos appeared to win the day.

But the man had been wrestled to the ground and was now being carried, kicking and cursing violently, towards the door. The crowd swelled, making a path which closed in again once the man and his captors were gone. A shocked silence followed—but only for a moment. The gentlemen, finding that they had not, in fact, been frightened, now quickly found their voices, and the wives recovered themselves too, all but one, an elderly lady from the country, whom it was found had fainted and to whom a great many of the gentlemen now attended. Everyone began to talk very loudly, for fear made people talk, or it did once the danger was past, and the ladies fanned themselves and held their hands to their chests and exclaimed, and the gentlemen offered solicitous and consoling arms, and huffed and puffed and became very red in the face, and several of the younger gentleman, those who had never been in the military and had never faced an enemy in battle and who had been the most frightened, laughed and slapped each other on the back and talked the most loudly.