He snatched up the golden lectern pulpit, hurled it back into the
comer, and moved the little table with its vase of roses into its
place. He did this quickly, without a word or an exclamation to
break the awful stillness with which the crowd watched him.
They knew that a tremendous drama was being enacted before them.
So intense was the excitement the people on the back tiers of the
galleries sprang impulsively to their feet and stood on the pews.
Van Meter's eyes danced with wild amazement as he straightened
himself up, sure Gordon had gone mad. But when he advanced to the
edge of the platform, looking a foot taller in his long black Prince
Albert coat, folded his giant arms across his breast, the nostrils
of his great aquiline nose dilated, his lips quivering, and looked
straight into Van Meter's face, the Deacon saw there was dangerous
method in his madness.
His eyes blazing with pent-up passion, he began in deliberate tones
an extempore address.
In a moment the air was charged with the thrill of his powerful
personality wrought to the highest tension of emotional power.
[Illustration: "Ripped it open, tore it from his arms, and threw
it on the floor.
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