They are trying to break it down; now, they have partially succeeded.

In another moment they have thrown themselves against the door of the office where Garrison is locked.

The lower panel is dashed in.

Through the opening they have caught sight of their object, Garrison, serenely writing at his desk.

"There he is! That's Garrison! Out with the scoundrel!" and other such words of recognition and execration, burst from one and another of the mob.