Are you ready?
Is it now or never?
I call for the League." Instantly there was a shout.

With an actor's instinct, Osterman had spoken at the precise psychological moment.

He carried the others off their feet, glib, dexterous, voluble.

Just what was meant by the League the others did not know, but it was something, a vague engine, a machine with which to fight.

Osterman had not done speaking before the room rang with outcries, the crowd of men shouting, for what they did not know.
"The League! The League!" "Now, to-night, this moment; sign our names before we leave." "He's right.