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+Project Gutenberg’s 100%: The Story of a Patriot, by Upton Sinclair
+
+This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with
+almost no restrictions whatsoever.  You may copy it, give it away or
+re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included
+with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org
+
+
+Title: 100%: The Story of a Patriot
+
+Author: Upton Sinclair
+
+
+Release Date: May, 2004 [EBook #5776]
+This file was first posted on September 1, 2002
+Last Updated: October 13, 2016
+
+Language: English
+
+Character set encoding: UTF-8
+
+*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 100%: THE STORY OF A PATRIOT ***
+
+
+
+
+Produced by Charles Aldarondo
+
+
+
+
+
+
+100%: THE STORY OF A PATRIOT
+
+By Upton Sinclair
+
+Published By The Author
+
+Pasadena, California
+
+1920
+
+
+
+TO MY WIFE
+
+Who is the creator of the most charming character in this story,
+“Mrs. Godd,” and who positively refuses to permit the book to go to
+press until it has been explained that the character is a Grecian
+Godd and not a Hebrew Godd, so that no one may accuse the creator of
+sacrilege.
+
+
+
+
+Section 1
+
+
+Now and then it occurs to one to reflect upon what slender threads
+of accident depend the most important circumstances of his life; to
+look back and shudder, realizing how close to the edge of
+nothingness his being has come. A young man is walking down the
+street, quite casually, with an empty mind and no set purpose; he
+comes to a crossing, and for no reason that he could tell he takes
+the right hand turn instead of the left; and so it happens that he
+encounters a blue-eyed girl, who sets his heart to beating. He meets
+the girl, marries her--and she became your mother. But now, suppose
+the young man had taken the left hand turn instead of the right, and
+had never met the blue-eyed girl; where would you be now, and what
+would have become of those qualities of mind which you consider of
+importance to the world, and those grave affairs of business to
+which your time is devoted?
+
+Something like that it was which befell Peter Gudge; just such an
+accident, changing the whole current of his life, and making the
+series of events with which this story deals. Peter was walking down
+the street one afternoon, when a woman approached and held out to
+him a printed leaflet. “Read this, please,” she said.
+
+And Peter, who was hungry, and at odds with the world, answered
+gruffly: “I got no money.” He thought it was an advertising dodger,
+and he said: “I can’t buy nothin’.”
+
+“It isn’t anything for sale,” answered the woman. “It’s a message.”
+
+“Religion?” said Peter. “I just got kicked out of a church.”
+
+“No, not a church,” said the woman. “It’s something different; put
+it in your pocket.” She was an elderly woman with gray hair, and she
+followed along, smiling pleasantly at this frail, poor-looking
+stranger, but nagging at him. “Read it some time when you’ve nothing
+else to do.” And so Peter, just to get rid of her, took the leaflet
+and thrust it into his pocket, and went on, and in a minute or two
+had forgotten all about it.
+
+Peter was thinking--or rather Peter’s stomach was thinking for him;
+for when you have had nothing to eat all day, and nothing on the day
+before but a cup of coffee and one sandwich, your thought-centers
+are transferred from the top to the middle of you. Peter was
+thinking that this was a hell of a life. Who could have foreseen
+that just because he had stolen one miserable fried doughnut, he
+would lose his easy job and his chance of rising in the world?
+Peter’s whole being was concentrated on the effort to rise in the
+world; to get success, which means money, which means ease and
+pleasure--the magic names which lure all human creatures.
+
+But who could have foreseen that Mrs. Smithers would have kept count
+of those fried doughnuts every time anybody passed thru her pantry?
+And it was only that one ridiculous circumstance which had brought
+Peter to his present misery. But for that he might have had his
+lunch of bread and dried herring and weak tea in the home of the
+shoe-maker’s wife, and might have still been busy with his job of
+stirring up dissension in the First Apostolic Church, otherwise
+known as the Holy Rollers, and of getting the Rev. Gamaliel Lunk
+turned out, and Shoemaker Smithers established at the job of pastor,
+with Peter Gudge as his right hand man.
+
+Always it had been like that, thru Peter’s twenty years of life.
+Time after time he would get his feeble clutch fixed upon the ladder
+of prosperity, and then something would happen--some wretched thing
+like the stealing of a fried doughnut--to pry him loose and tumble
+him down again into the pit of misery.
+
+So Peter walked along, with his belt drawn tight, and his restless
+blue eyes wandering here and there, looking for a place to get a
+meal. There were jobs to be had, but they were hard jobs, and Peter
+wanted an easy one. There are people in this world who live by their
+muscles, and others who live by their wits; Peter belonged to the
+latter class; and had missed many a meal rather than descend in the
+social scale.
+
+Peter looked into the faces of everyone he passed, searching for a
+possible opening. Some returned his glance, but never for more than
+a second, for they saw an insignificant looking man, undersized,
+undernourished, and with one shoulder higher than the other, a weak
+chin and mouth, crooked teeth, and a brown moustache too feeble to
+hold itself up at the corners. Peters’ straw hat had many straws
+missing, his second-hand brown suit was become third-hand, and his
+shoes were turning over at the sides. In a city where everybody was
+“hustling,” everybody, as they phrased it, “on the make,” why should
+anyone take a second glance at Peter Gudge? Why should anyone care
+about the restless soul hidden inside him, or dream that Peter was,
+in his own obscure way, a sort of genius? No one did care; no one
+did dream.
+
+It was about two o’clock of an afternoon in July, and the sun beat
+down upon the streets of American City. There were crowds upon the
+streets, and Peter noticed that everywhere were flags and bunting.
+Once or twice he heard the strains of distant music, and wondered
+what was “up.” Peter had not been reading the newspapers; all his
+attention had been taken up by the quarrels of the Smithers faction
+and the Lunk faction in the First Apostolic Church, otherwise known
+as the Holy Rollers, and great events that had been happening in the
+world outside were of no concern to him. Peter knew vaguely that on
+the other side of the world half a dozen mighty nations were locked
+together in a grip of death; the whole earth was shaken with their
+struggles, and Peter had felt a bit of the trembling now and then.
+But Peter did not know that his own country had anything to do with
+this European quarrel, and did not know that certain great interests
+thruout the country had set themselves to rouse the public to
+action.
+
+This movement had reached American City, and the streets had broken
+out in a blaze of patriotic display. In all the windows of the
+stores there were signs: “Wake up, America!” Across the broad Main
+Street there were banners: “America Prepare!” Down in the square at
+one end of the street a small army was gathering--old veterans of
+the Civil War, and middle-aged veterans of the Spanish War, and
+regiments of the state militia, and brigades of marines and sailors
+from the ships in the harbor, and members of fraternal lodges with
+their Lord High Chief Grand Marshals on horseback with gold sashes
+and waving white plumes, and all the notables of the city in
+carriages, and a score of bands to stir their feet and ten thousand
+flags waving above their heads. “Wake up America!” And here was
+Peter Gudge, with an empty stomach, coming suddenly upon the
+swarming crowds in Main Street, and having no remotest idea what it
+was all about.
+
+A crowd suggested one thing to Peter. For seven years of his young
+life he had been assistant to Pericles Priam, and had traveled over
+America selling Priam’s Peerless Pain Paralyzer; they had ridden in
+an automobile, and wherever there was a fair or a convention or an
+excursion or a picnic, they were on hand, and Pericles Priam would
+stop at a place where the crowds were thickest, and ring a dinner
+bell, and deliver his super-eloquent message to humanity--the elixir
+of life revealed, suffering banished from the earth, and all
+inconveniences of this mortal state brought to an end for one dollar
+per bottle of fifteen per cent opium. It had been Peter’s job to
+handle the bottles and take in the coin; and so now, when he saw the
+crowd, he looked about him eagerly. Perhaps there might be here some
+vender of corn-plasters or ink-stain removers, or some three card
+monte man to whom Peter could attach himself for the price of a
+sandwich.
+
+Peter wormed his way thru the crowd for two or three blocks, but saw
+nothing more promising than venders of American flags on little
+sticks, and of patriotic buttons with “Wake up America!” But then,
+on the other side of the street at one of the crossings Peter saw a
+man standing on a truck making a speech, and he dug his way thru the
+crowd, elbowing, sliding this way and that, begging everybody’s
+pardon--until at last he was out of the crowd, and standing in the
+open way which had been cleared for the procession, a seemingly
+endless road lined with solid walls of human beings, with
+blue-uniformed policemen holding them back. Peter started to run
+across--and at that same instant came the end of the world.
+
+
+
+
+Section 2
+
+
+One who seeks to tell about events in words comes occasionally upon
+a fundamental difficulty. An event of colossal and overwhelming
+significance may happen all at once, but the words which describe it
+have to come one by one in a long chain. The event may reveal itself
+without a moment’s warning; but if one is to give a sense of it in
+words, one must prepare for it, build up to it, awaken anticipation,
+establish a climax. If the description of this event which fate
+sprung upon Peter Gudge as he was crossing the street were limited
+to the one word “BANG” in letters a couple of inches high across the
+page, the impression would hardly be adequate.
+
+The end of the world, it seemed to Peter, when he was able to
+collect enough of his terrified wits to think about it. But at first
+there was no thinking; there was only sensation--a terrific roar, as
+if the whole universe had suddenly turned to sound; a blinding white
+glare, as of all the lightnings of the heavens; a blow that picked
+him up as if he had been a piece of thistledown, and flung him
+across the street and against the side of a building. Peter fell
+upon the sidewalk in a heap, deafened, blinded, stunned; and there
+he lay--he had no idea how long-until gradually his senses began to
+return to him, and from the confusion certain factors began to stand
+out: a faint gray smoke that seemed to lie upon the ground, a bitter
+odor that stung the nostrils and tongue, and screams of people,
+moaning and sobbing and general uproar. Something lay across Peter’s
+chest, and he felt that he was suffocating, and struggled
+convulsively to push it away; the hands with which he pushed felt
+something hot and wet and slimy, and the horrified Peter realized
+that it was half the body of a mangled human being.
+
+Yes, it was the end of the world. Only a couple of days previously
+Peter Gudge had been a devout member of the First Apostolic Church,
+otherwise known as the Holy Rollers, and had listened at
+prayer-meetings to soul-shaking imaginings out of the Book of
+Revelations. So Peter knew that this was it; and having many sins
+upon his conscience, and being in no way eager to confront his God,
+he looked out over the bodies of the dead and the writhing wounded,
+and saw a row of boxes standing against the building, having been
+placed there by people who wished to see over the heads of the
+crowd. Peter started to crawl, and found that he was able to do so,
+and wormed his way behind one of these packing-boxes, and got inside
+and lay hidden from his God.
+
+There was blood on him, and he did not know whether it was his own
+or other peoples’. He was trembling with fright, his crooked teeth
+were hammering together like those of an angry woodchuck. But the
+effects of the shock continued to pass away, and his wits to come
+back to him, and at last Peter realized that he never had taken
+seriously the ideas of the First Apostolic Church of American City.
+He listened to the moans of the wounded, and to the shouts and
+uproar of the crowd, and began seriously figuring out what could
+have happened. There had once been an earthquake in American City;
+could this be another one? Or had a volcano opened up in the midst
+of Main Street? Or could it have been a gas-main? And was this the
+end, or would it explode some more? Would the volcano go on
+erupting, and blow Peter and his frail packing-box thru the walls of
+Guggenheim’s Department-store?
+
+So Peter waited, and listened to the horrible sounds of people in
+agony, and pleading with others to put them out of it. Peter heard
+voices of men giving orders, and realized that these must be
+policemen, and that no doubt there would be ambulances coming. Maybe
+there was something the matter with him, and he ought to crawl out
+and get himself taken care of. All of a sudden Peter remembered his
+stomach; and his wits, which had been sharpened by twenty years’
+struggle against a hostile world, realized in a flash the
+opportunity which fate had brought to him. He must pretend to be
+wounded, badly wounded; he must be unconscious, suffering from shock
+and shattered nerves; then they would take him to the hospital and
+put him in a soft bed and give him things to eat--maybe he might
+stay there for weeks, and they might give him money when he came
+out.
+
+Or perhaps he might get a job in the hospital, something that was
+easy, and required only alert intelligence. Perhaps the head doctor
+in the hospital might want somebody to watch the other doctors, to
+see if they were neglecting the patients, or perhaps flirting with
+some of the nurses--there was sure to be something like that going
+on. It had been that way in the orphans’ home where Peter had spent
+a part of his childhood till he ran away. It had been that way again
+in the great Temple of Jimjambo, conducted by Pashtian el Kalandra,
+Chief Magistrian of Eleutherinian Exoticism. Peter had worked as
+scullion in the kitchen in that mystic institution, and had worked
+his way upward until he possessed the confidence of Tushbar Akrogas,
+major-domo and right hand man of the Prophet himself.
+
+Wherever there was a group of people, and a treasure to be
+administered, there Peter knew was backbiting and scandal and
+intriguing and spying, and a chance for somebody whose brains were
+“all there.” It might seem strange that Peter should think about
+such things, just then when the earth had opened up in front of him
+and the air had turned to roaring noise and blinding white flame,
+and had hurled him against the side of a building and dropped the
+bleeding half of a woman’s body across his chest; but Peter had
+lived from earliest childhood by his wits and by nothing else, and
+such a fellow has to learn to use his wits under any and all
+circumstances, no matter how bewildering. Peter’s training covered
+almost every emergency one could think of; he had even at times
+occupied himself by imagining what he would do if the Holy Rollers
+should turn out to be right, and if suddenly Gabriel’s trumpet were
+to blow, and he were to find himself confronting Jesus in a long
+white night-gown.
+
+
+
+
+Section 3
+
+
+Peter’s imaginings were brought to an end by the packing-box being
+pulled out from the wall. “Hello!” said a voice.
+
+Peter groaned, but did not look up. The box was pulled out further,
+and a face peered in. “What you hidin’ in there for?”
+
+Peter stammered feebly: “Wh-wh-what?”
+
+“You hurt?” demanded the voice.
+
+“I dunno,” moaned Peter.
+
+The box was pulled out further, and its occupant slid out. Peter
+looked up, and saw three or four policemen bending over him; he
+moaned again.
+
+“How did you get in there?” asked one.
+
+“I crawled in.”
+
+“What for?”
+
+“To g-g-get away from the--what was it?”
+
+“Bomb,” said one of the policemen; and Peter was astounded that for
+a moment he forgot to be a nervous wreck.
+
+“Bomb!” he cried; and at the same moment one of the policemen lifted
+him to his feet.
+
+“Can you stand up?” he demanded; and Peter tried, and found that he
+could, and forgot that he couldn’t. He was covered with blood and
+dirt, and was an unpresentable object, but he was really relieved to
+discover that his limbs were intact.
+
+“What’s your name?” demanded one of the policemen, and when Peter
+answered, he asked, “Where do you work?”
+
+“I got no job,” replied Peter.
+
+“Where’d you work last?” And then another broke in, “What did you
+crawl in there for?”
+
+“My God!” cried Peter. “I wanted to get away!”
+
+The policemen seemed to find it suspicious that he had stayed hidden
+so long. They were in a state of excitement themselves, it appeared;
+a terrible crime had been committed, and they were hunting for any
+trace of the criminal. Another man came up, not dressed in uniform,
+but evidently having authority, and he fell onto Peter, demanding to
+know who he was, and where he had come from, and what he had been
+doing in that crowd. And of course Peter had no very satisfactory
+answers to give to any of these questions. His occupations had been
+unusual, and not entirely credible, and his purposes were hard to
+explain to a suspicious questioner. The man was big and burly, at
+least a foot taller than Peter, and as he talked he stooped down and
+stared into Peter’s eyes as if he were looking for dark secrets
+hidden back in the depths of Peter’s skull. Peter remembered that he
+was supposed to be sick, and his eyelids drooped and he reeled
+slightly, so that the policemen had to hold him up.
+
+“I want to talk to that fellow,” said the questioner. “Take him
+inside.” One of the officers took Peter under one arm, and the other
+under the other arm, and they half walked and half carried him
+across the street and into a building.
+
+
+
+
+Section 4
+
+
+It was a big store which the police had opened up. Inside there were
+wounded people lying on the floor, with doctors and others attending
+them. Peter was marched down the corridor, and into a room where sat
+or stood several other men, more or less in a state of collapse like
+himself; people who had failed to satisfy the police, and were being
+held under guard.
+
+Peter’s two policemen backed him against the wall and proceeded to
+go thru his pockets, producing the shameful contents--a soiled rag,
+and two cigarette butts picked up on the street, and a broken pipe,
+and a watch which had once cost a dollar, but was now out of order,
+and too badly damaged to be pawned. That was all they had any right
+to find, so far as Peter knew. But there came forth one thing
+more--the printed circular which Peter had thrust into his pocket.
+The policeman who pulled it out took a glance at it, and then cried,
+“Good God!” He stared at Peter, then he stared at the other
+policeman and handed him the paper.
+
+At that moment the man not in uniform entered the room. “Mr.
+Guffey!” cried the policeman. “See this!” The man took the paper,
+and glanced at it, and Peter, watching with bewildered and
+fascinated eyes, saw a most terrifying sight. It was as if the man
+went suddenly out of his mind. He glared at Peter, and under his
+black eyebrows the big staring eyes seemed ready to jump out of his
+head.
+
+“Aha!” he exclaimed; and then, “So I’ve got you!” The hand that held
+the paper was trembling, and the other hand reached out like a great
+claw, and fastened itself in the neck of Peter’s coat, and drew it
+together until Peter was squeezed tight. “You threw that bomb!”
+ hissed the man.
+
+“Wh-what?” gasped Peter, his voice almost fainting. “B-b-bomb?”
+
+“Out with it!” cried the man, and his face came close to Peter’s,
+his teeth gleaming as if he were going to bite off Peter’s nose.
+“Out with it! Quick! Who helped you?”
+
+“My G-God!” said Peter. “I d-dunno what you mean.”
+
+“You dare lie to me?” roared the man; and he shook Peter as if he
+meant to jar his teeth out. “No nonsense now! Who helped you make
+that bomb?”
+
+Peter’s voice rose to a scream of terror: “I never saw no bomb! I
+dunno what you’re talkin’ about!”
+
+“You, come this way,” said the man, and started suddenly toward the
+door. It might have been more convenient if he had turned Peter
+around, and got him by the back of his coat-collar; but he
+evidently held Peter’s physical being as a thing too slight for
+consideration--he just kept his grip in the bosom of Peter’s jacket,
+and half lifted him and half shoved him back out of the room, and
+down a long passage to the back part of the building. And all the
+time he was hissing into Peter’s face: “I’ll have it out of you!
+Don’t think you can lie to me! Make up your mind to it, you’re going
+to come thru!”
+
+The man opened a door. It was some kind of storeroom, and he walked
+Peter inside and slammed the door behind him. “Now, out with it!” he
+said. The man thrust into his pocket the printed circular, or
+whatever it was--Peter never saw it again, and never found out what
+was printed on it. With his free hand the man grabbed one of Peter’s
+hands, or rather one finger of Peter’s hand, and bent it suddenly
+backward with terrible violence. “Oh!” screamed Peter. “Stop!” And
+then, with a wild shriek, “You’ll break it.”
+
+“I mean to break it! mean to break every bone in your body! I’ll
+tear your finger-nails out; I’ll tear the eyes out of your head, if
+I have to! You tell me who helped you make that bomb!”
+
+Peter broke out in a storm of agonized protest; he had never heard
+of any bomb, he didn’t know what the man was talking about; he
+writhed and twisted and doubled himself over backward, trying to
+evade the frightful pain of that pressure on his finger.
+
+“You’re lying!” insisted Guffey. “I know you’re lying. You’re one of
+that crowd.”
+
+“What crowd? Ouch! I dunno what you mean!”
+
+“You’re one of them Reds, aint you?”
+
+“Reds? What are Reds?”
+
+“You want to tell me you don’t know what a Red is? Aint you been
+giving out them circulars on the street?”
+
+“I never seen the circular!” repeated Peter. “I never seen a word in
+it; I dunno what it is.”
+
+“You try to stuff me with that?”
+
+“Some woman gimme that circular on the street! Ouch! Stop! Jesus! I
+tell you I never looked at the circular!”
+
+“You dare go on lying?” shouted the man, with fresh access of rage.
+“And when I seen you with them Reds? I know about your plots, I’m
+going to get it out of you.” He grabbed Peter’s wrist and began to
+twist it, and Peter half turned over in the effort to save himself,
+and shrieked again, in more piercing tones, “I dunno! I dunno!”
+
+“What’s them fellows done for you that you protect them?” demanded
+the other. “What good’ll it do you if we hang you and let them
+escape?”
+
+But Peter only screamed and wept the louder.
+
+“They’ll have time to get out of town,” persisted the other. “If you
+speak quick we can nab them all, and then I’ll let you go. You
+understand, we won’t do a thing to you, if you’ll come thru and tell
+us who put you up to this. We know it wasn’t you that planned it;
+it’s the big fellows we want.”
+
+He began to wheedle and coax Peter; but then, when Peter answered
+again with his provoking “I dunno,” he would give another twist to
+Peter’s wrist, and Peter would yell, almost incoherent with terror
+and pain--but still declaring that he could tell nothing, he knew
+nothing about any bomb.
+
+So at last Guffey wearied of this futile inquisition; or perhaps it
+occurred to him that this was too public a place for the prosecution
+of a “third degree”--there might be some one listening outside the
+door. He stopped twisting Peter’s wrist, and tilted back Peter’s
+head so that Peter’s frightened eyes were staring into his.
+
+“Now, young fellow,” he said, “look here. I got no time for you just
+now, but you’re going to jail, you’re my prisoner, and make up your
+mind to it, sooner or later I’m going to get it out of you. It may
+take a day, or it may take a month, but you’re going to tell me
+about this bomb plot, and who printed this here circular opposed to
+Preparedness, and all about these Reds you work with. I’m telling
+you now--so you think it over; and meantime, you hold your mouth,
+don’t say a word to a living soul, or if you do I’ll tear your
+tongue out of your throat.”
+
+Then, paying no attention to Peter’s wailings, he took him by the
+back of the collar and marched him down the hall again, and turned
+him over to one of the policemen. “Take this man to the city jail,”
+ he said, “and put him in the hole, and keep him there until I come,
+and don’t let him speak a word to anybody. If he tries it, mash his
+mouth for him.” So the policeman took poor sobbing Peter by the arm
+and marched him out of the building.
+
+
+
+
+Section 5
+
+
+The police had got the crowds driven back by now, and had ropes
+across the street to hold them, and inside the roped space were
+several ambulances and a couple of patrol-wagons. Peter was shoved
+into one of these latter, and a policeman sat by his side, and the
+bell clanged, and the patrol-wagon forced its way slowly thru the
+struggling crowd. Half an hour later they arrived at the huge stone
+jail, and Peter was marched inside. There were no formalities, they
+did not enter Peter on the books, or take his name or his finger
+prints; some higher power had spoken, and Peter’s fate was already
+determined. He was taken into an elevator, and down into a basement,
+and then down a flight of stone steps into a deeper basement, and
+there was an iron door with a tiny slit an inch wide and six inches
+long near the top. This was the “hole,” and the door was opened and
+Peter shoved inside into utter darkness. The door banged, and the
+bolts rattled; and then silence. Peter sank upon a cold stone floor,
+a bundle of abject and hideous misery.
+
+These events had happened with such terrifying rapidity that Peter
+Gudge had hardly time to keep track of them. But now he had plenty
+of time, he had nothing but time. He could think the whole thing
+out, and realize the ghastly trick which fate had played upon him.
+He lay there, and time passed; he had no way of measuring it, no
+idea whether it was hours or days. It was cold and clammy in the
+stone cell; they called it the “cooler,” and used it to reduce the
+temperature of the violent and intractable. It was a trouble-saving
+device; they just left the man there and forgot him, and his own
+tormented mind did the rest.
+
+And surely no more tormented mind than the mind of Peter Gudge had
+ever been put in that black hole. It was the more terrible, because
+so utterly undeserved, so preposterous. For such a thing to happen
+to him, Peter Gudge, of all people--who took such pains to avoid
+discomfort in life, who was always ready to oblige anybody, to do
+anything he was told to do, so as to have’an easy time, a
+sufficiency of food, and a warm corner to crawl into! What could
+have persuaded fate to pick him for the victim of this cruel prank;
+to put him into this position, where he could not avoid suffering,
+no matter what he did? They wanted him to tell something, and Peter
+would have been perfectly willing to tell anything--but how could he
+tell it when he did not know it?
+
+The more Peter thought about it, the more outraged he became. It was
+monstrous! He sat up and glared into the black darkness. He talked
+to himself, he talked to the world outside, to the universe which
+had forgotten his existence. He stormed, he wept. He got on his feet
+and flung himself about the cell, which was six feet square, and
+barely tall enough for him to stand erect. He pounded on the door
+with his one hand which Guffey had not lamed, he kicked, and he
+shouted. But there was no answer, and so far as he could tell, there
+was no one to hear.
+
+When he had exhausted himself, he sank down, and fell into a haunted
+sleep; and then he wakened again, to a reality worse than any
+nightmare. That awful man was coming after him again! He was going
+to torture him, to make him tell what he did not know! All the ogres
+and all the demons that had ever been invented to frighten the
+imagination of children were as nothing compared to the image of the
+man called Guffey, as Peter thought of him.
+
+Several ages after Peter had been locked up, he heard sounds
+outside, and the door was opened. Peter was cowering in the corner,
+thinking that Guffey had come. There was a scraping on the floor,
+and then the door was banged again, and silence fell. Peter
+investigated and discovered that they had put in a chunk of bread
+and a pan of water.
+
+Then more ages passed, and Peter’s impotent ragings were repeated;
+then once more they brought bread and water, and Peter wondered, was
+it twice a day they brought it, or was this a new day? And how long
+did they mean to keep him here? Did they mean to drive him mad? He
+asked these questions of the man who brought the bread and water,
+but the man made no answer, he never at any time spoke a word. Peter
+had no company in that “hole” but his God; and Peter was not well
+acquainted with his God, and did not enjoy a tete-a-tete with Him.
+
+What troubled Peter most was the cold; it got into his bones, and
+his teeth were chattering all the time. Despite all his moving
+about, he could not keep warm. When the man opened the door, he
+cried out to him, begging for a blanket; each time the man came,
+Peter begged more frantically than ever. He was ill, he had been
+injured in the explosion, he needed a doctor, he was going to die!
+But there was never any answer. Peter would lie there and shiver and
+weep, and writhe, and babble, and lose consciousness for a while,
+and not know whether he was awake or asleep, whether he was living
+or dead. He was becoming delirious, and the things that were
+happening to him, the people who were tormenting him, became
+monsters and fiends who carried him away upon far journeys, and
+plunged him thru abysses of terror and torment.
+
+And yet, many and strange as were the phantoms which Peter’s sick
+imagination conjured up, there was no one of them as terrible as the
+reality which prevailed just then in the life of American City, and
+was determining the destiny of a poor little man by the name of
+Peter Gudge. There lived in American City a group of men who had
+taken possession of its industries and dominated the lives of its
+population. This group, intrenched in power in the city’s business
+and also in its government, were facing the opposition of a new and
+rapidly rising power, that of organized labor, determined to break
+the oligarchy of business and take over its powers. The struggle of
+these two groups was coming to its culmination. They were like two
+mighty wrestlers, locked in a grip of death; two giants in combat,
+who tear up trees by the roots and break off fragments of cliffs
+from the mountains to smash in each other’s skulls. And poor
+Peter--what was he? An ant which happened to come blundering across
+the ground where these combatants met. The earth was shaken with
+their trampling, the dirt was kicked this way and that, and the
+unhappy ant was knocked about, tumbled head over heels, buried in
+the debris; and suddenly--Smash!--a giant foot came down upon the
+place where he was struggling and gasping!
+
+
+
+
+Section 6
+
+
+Peter had been in the “hole” perhaps three days, perhaps a week--he
+did not know, and no one ever told him. The door was opened again,
+and for the first time he heard a voice, “Come out here.”
+
+Peter had been longing to hear a voice; but now he shrunk terrified
+into a corner. The voice was the voice of Guffey, and Peter knew
+what it meant. His teeth began to rattle again, and he wailed, “I
+dunno anything! I can’t tell anything!”
+
+A hand reached in and took him by the collar, and he found himself
+walking down the corridor in front of Guffey. “Shut up!” said the
+man, in answer to all his wailings, and took him into a room and
+threw him into a chair as if he had been a bundle of bedding, and
+pulled up another chair and sat down in front of Peter.
+
+“Now look here,” he said. “I want to have an understanding with you.
+Do you want to go back into that hole again?”
+
+“N-n-no,” moaned Peter.
+
+“Well, I want you to know that you’ll spend the rest of your life in
+that hole, except when you’re talking to me. And when you’re talking
+to me you’ll be having your arms twisted off you, and splinters
+driven into your finger nails, and your skin burned with
+matches--until you tell me what I want to know. Nobody’s going to
+help you, nobody’s going to know about it. You’re going to stay here
+with me until you come across.”
+
+Peter could only sob and moan.
+
+“Now,” continued Guffey, “I been finding out all about you, I got
+your life story from the day you were born, and there’s no use your
+trying to hide anything. I know your part in this here bomb plot,
+and I can send you to the gallows without any trouble whatever. But
+there’s some things I can’t prove on the other fellows. They’re the
+big ones, the real devils, and they’re the ones I want, so you’ve
+got a chance to save yourself, and you better be thankful for it.”
+
+Peter went on moaning and sobbing.
+
+“Shut up!” cried the man. And then, fixing Peter’s frightened gaze
+with his own, he continued, “Understand, you got a chance to save
+yourself. All you got to do is to tell what you know. Then you can
+come out and you won’t have any more trouble. We’ll take good care
+of you; everything’ll be easy for you.”
+
+Peter continued to gaze like a fascinated rabbit. And such a longing
+as surged up in his soul--to be free, and out of trouble, and taken
+care of! If only he had known anything to tell; if only there was
+some way he could find out something to tell!
+
+
+
+
+Section 7
+
+
+Suddenly the man reached out and grasped one of Peter’s hands. He
+twisted the wrist again, the sore wrist which still ached from the
+torture. “Will you tell?”
+
+“I’d tell if I could!” screamed Peter. “My God, how can I?”
+
+“Don’t lie to me,” hissed the man. “I know about it now, you can’t
+fool me. You know Jim Goober.”
+
+“I never heard of him!” wailed Peter.
+
+“You lie!” declared the other, and he gave Peter’s wrist a twist.
+
+“Yes, yes, I know him!” shrieked Peter.
+
+“Oh, that’s more like it!” said the other. “Of course you know him.
+What sort of a looking man is he?”
+
+“I--I dunno. He’s a big man.”
+
+“You lie! You know he’s a medium-sized man!”
+
+“He’s a medium-sized man.”
+
+“A dark man?”
+
+“Yes, a dark man.”
+
+“And you know Mrs. Goober, the music teacher?”
+
+“Yes, I know her.”
+
+“And you’ve been to her house?”
+
+
+
+“Yes, I’ve been to her house.”
+
+“Where is their house?”
+
+“I dunno--that is--”
+
+“It’s on Fourth Street?”
+
+“Yes, it’s on Fourth Street.”
+
+“And he hired you to carry that suit-case with the bombs in it,
+didn’t he?”
+
+“Yes, he hired me.”
+
+“And he told you what was in it, didn’t he?”
+
+“He--he--that is--I dunno.”
+
+“You don’t know whether he told you?”
+
+“Y-y-yes, he told me.”
+
+“You knew all about the plot, didn’t you?”
+
+“Y-y-yes, I knew.”
+
+“And you know Isaacs, the Jew?”
+
+“Y-y-yes, I know him.”
+
+“He was the fellow that drove the jitney, wasn’t he?”
+
+“Y-y-yes, he drove the jitney.”
+
+“Where did he drive it?”
+
+“H-h-he drove it everywhere.”
+
+“He drove it over here with the suit-case, didn’t he?”
+
+“Yes, he did.”
+
+“And you know Biddle, and you know what he did, don’t you?”
+
+“Yes, I know.”
+
+“And you’re willing to tell all you know about it, are you?”
+
+“Yes, I’ll tell it all. I’ll tell whatever you--”
+
+“You’ll tell whatever you know, will you?”
+
+“Y-y-yes, sir.”
+
+“And you’ll stand by it? You’ll not try to back out? You don’t want
+to go back into the hole?”
+
+“No, sir.”
+
+And suddenly Guffey pulled from his pocket a paper folded up. It was
+several typewritten sheets. “Peter Gudge,” he said, “I been looking
+up your record, and I’ve found out what you did in this case. You’ll
+see when you read how perfectly I’ve got it. You won’t find a single
+mistake in it.” Guffey meant this for wit, but poor Peter was too
+far gone with terror to have any idea that there was such a thing as
+a smile in the world.
+
+“This is your story, d’you see?” continued Guffey. “Now take it and
+read it.”
+
+So Peter took the paper in his trembling hand, the one which had not
+been twisted lame. He tried to read it, but his hand shook so that
+he had to put it on his knee, and then he discovered that his eyes
+had not yet got used to the light. He could not see the print. “I
+c-c-can’t,” he wailed.
+
+And the other man took the paper from him. “I’ll read it to you,” he
+said. “Now you listen, and put your mind on it, and make sure I’ve
+got it all right.”
+
+And so Guffey started to read an elaborate legal document: “I, Peter
+Gudge, being duly sworn do depose and declare--” and so on. It was
+an elaborate and detailed story about a man named Jim Goober, and
+his wife and three other men, and how they had employed Peter to buy
+for them certain materials to make bombs, and how Peter had helped
+them to make the bombs in a certain room at a certain given address,
+and how they had put the bombs in a suit-case, with a time clock to
+set them off, and how Isaacs, the jitney driver, had driven them to
+a certain corner on Main Street, and how they had left the suit-case
+with the bombs on the street in front of the Preparedness Day
+parade.
+
+It was very simple and clear, and Peter, as he listened, was almost
+ready to cry with delight, realizing that this was all he had to do
+to escape from his horrible predicament. He knew now what he was
+supposed to know; and he knew it. Why had not Guffey told him long
+ago, so that he might have known it without having his fingers bent
+out of place and his wrist twisted off?
+
+“Now then,” said Guffey, “that’s your confession, is it?”
+
+“Y-y-yes,” said Peter.
+
+“And you’ll stand by it to the end?”
+
+“Y-y-yes, sir.”
+
+“We can count on you now? No more nonsense?”
+
+“Y-y-yes, sir.”
+
+“You swear it’s all true?”
+
+“I do.”
+
+“And you won’t let anybody persuade you to go back on it--no matter
+what they say to you?”
+
+“N-n-no, sir,” said Peter.
+
+“All right,” said Guffey; and his voice showed the relief of a
+business man who has closed an important deal. He became almost
+human as lie went on. “Now, Peter,” he said, “you’re our man, and
+we’re going to count on you. You understand, of course, that we have
+to hold you as a witness, but you’re not to be a prisoner, and we’re
+going to treat you well. We’ll put you in the hospital part of the
+jail, and you’ll have good grub and nothing to do. In a week or so,
+we’ll want you to appear before the grand jury. Meantime, you
+understand--not a word to a soul! People may try to worm something
+out of you, but don’t you open your mouth about this case except to
+me. I’m your boss, and I’ll tell you what to do, and I’ll take care
+of you all the way. You got that all straight?”
+
+“Y-y-yes, sir,” said Peter.
+
+
+
+
+Section 8
+
+
+There was once, so legend declares, a darky who said that he liked
+to stub his toe because it felt so good when it stopped hurting. On
+this same principle Peter had a happy time in the hospital of the
+American City jail. He had a comfortable bed, and plenty to eat, and
+absolutely nothing to do. His sore joints became gradually healed,
+and he gained half a pound a day in weight, and his busy mind set to
+work to study the circumstances about him, to find out how he could
+perpetuate these comfortable conditions, and add to them the little
+luxuries which make life really worth living.
+
+In charge of this hospital was an old man by the name of Doobman. He
+had been appointed because he was the uncle of an alderman, and he
+had held the job for the last six years, and during that time had
+gained weight almost as rapidly as Peter was gaining. He had now
+come to a condition where he did not like to get out of his armchair
+if it could be avoided. Peter discovered this, and so found it
+possible to make himself useful in small ways. Also Mr. Doobman had
+a secret vice; he took snuff, and for the sake of discipline he did
+not want this dreadful fact to become known. Therefore he would wait
+until everybody’s back was turned before he took a pinch of snuff;
+and Peter learned this, and would tactfully turn his back.
+
+Everybody in this hospital had some secret vice, and it was Mr.
+Doobman’s duty to repress the vices of the others. The inmates of
+the hospital included many of the prisoners who had money, and could
+pay to make themselves comfortable. They wanted tobacco, whiskey,
+cocaine and other drugs, and some of them wanted a chance to
+practice unnamable horrors. All the money they could smuggle in they
+were ready to spend for license to indulge themselves. As for the
+attendants in the hospital, they were all political appointees,
+derelicts who had been unable to hold a job in the commercial world,
+and had sought an easy berth, like Peter himself. They took bribes,
+and were prepared to bribe Peter to outwit Mr. Doobman; Mr. Doobman,
+on the other hand, was prepared to reward Peter with many favors, if
+Peter would consent to bring him secret information. In such a
+situation it was possible for a man with his wits about him to
+accumulate quite a little capital.
+
+For the most part Peter stuck by Doobman; having learned by bitter
+experience that in the long run it pays to be honest. Doobman was
+referred to by the other attendants as the “Old Man”; and always in
+Peter’s life, from the very dawn of childhood, there had been some
+such “Old Man,” the fountain-head of authority, the dispenser of
+creature comforts. First had been “Old Man” Drubb, who from early
+morning until late at night wore green spectacles, and a sign across
+his chest, “I am blind,” and made a weary little child lead him thru
+the streets by the hand. At night, when they got home to their
+garret-room, “Old Man” Drubb would take off his green goggles, and
+was perfectly able to see Peter, and if Peter had made the slightest
+mistake during the day he would beat him.
+
+When Drubb was arrested, Peter was taken to the orphan asylum, and
+there was another “Old Man,” and the same harsh lesson of
+subservience to be learned. Peter had run away from the asylum; and
+then had come Pericles Priam with his Pain Paralyzer, and Peter had
+studied his whims and served his interests. When Pericles had
+married a rich widow and she had kicked Peter out, there had come
+the Temple of Jimjambo, where the “Old Man” had been Tushbar
+Akrogas, the major-domo--terrible when he was thwarted, but a
+generous dispenser of favors when once you had learned to flatter
+him, to play upon his weaknesses, to smooth the path of his
+pleasures. All these years Peter had been forced to “crook the
+pregnant hinges of the knee”; it had become an instinct with him--an
+instinct that went back far behind the twenty years of his conscious
+life, that went back twenty thousand years, perhaps ten times twenty
+thousand years, to a time when Peter had chipped flint spear-heads
+at the mouth of some cave, and broiled marrow-bones for some “Old
+Man” of the borde, and seen rebellious young fellows cast out to
+fall prey to the sabre-tooth tiger.
+
+
+
+
+Section 9
+
+
+Peter found that he was something of a personality in this hospital.
+He was the “star” witness in the sensational Goober case, about
+which the whole city, and in fact the whole country was talking. It
+was known that he had “turned State’s”; but just what he knew and
+what he had told was a mighty secret, and Peter “held his mouth” and
+looked portentous, and enjoyed thrills of self-importance.
+
+But meantime there was no reason why he should not listen to others
+talk; no reason why he should not inform himself fully about this
+case, so that in future he might be able to take care of himself. He
+listened to what “Old Man” Doobman had to say, and to what Jan
+Christian, his Swedish assistant had to say, and to what Gerald
+Leslie, the “coke” fiend, had to say. All these, and others, had
+friends on the outside, people who were “in the know.” Some told one
+thing, and others told exactly the opposite; but Peter put this and
+that together, and used his own intrigue-sharpened wits upon it, and
+before long he was satisfied that he had got the facts.
+
+Jim Goober was a prominent labor leader. He had organized the
+employees of the Traction Trust, and had called and led a tremendous
+strike. Also he had called building strikes, and some people said he
+had used dynamite upon uncompleted buildings, and made a joke of it.
+Anyhow, the business men of the city wanted to put him where he
+could no longer trouble them; and when some maniac unknown had flung
+a dynamite bomb into the path of the Preparedness parade, the big
+fellows of the city had decided that now was the opportunity they
+were seeking. Guffey, the man who had taken charge of Peter, was
+head of the secret service of the Traction Trust, and the big
+fellows had put him in complete charge. They wanted action, and
+would take no chances with the graft-ridden and incompetent police
+of the city. They had Goober in jail, with his wife and three of his
+gang, and thru the newspapers of the city they were carrying on a
+propaganda to prepare the public for the hanging of all five.
+
+And that was all right, of course; Jim Goober was only a name to
+Peter, and of less importance than a single one of Peter’s meals.
+Peter understood what Guffey had done, and his only grudge was
+because Guffey had not had the sense to tell him his story at the
+beginning, instead of first nearly twisting his arm off. However,
+Peter reflected, no doubt Guffey had meant to teach him a lesson, to
+make sure of him. Peter had learned the lesson, and his purpose now
+was to make this clear to Guffey and to Doobman.
+
+“Hold your mouth,” Guffey had said, and Peter never once said a word
+about the Goober case. But, of course, he talked about other
+matters. A fellow could not go around like a mummy all day long, and
+it was Peter’s weakness that he liked to tell about his exploits,
+the clever devices by which he had outwitted his last “Old Man.” So
+to Gerald Leslie, the “coke” fiend, he told the story of Pericles
+Priam, and how many thousands of dollars he had helped to wheedle
+out of the public, and how twice he and Pericles had been arrested
+for swindling. Also he told about the Temple of Jimjambo, and all
+the strange and incredible things that had gone on there. Pashtian
+el Kalandra, who called himself the Chief Magistrian of
+Eleutherinian Exoticism, gave himself out to his followers to be
+eighty years of age, but as a matter of fact he was less than forty.
+He was supposed to be a Persian prince, but had been born in a small
+town in Indiana, and had begun life as a grocer-boy. He was supposed
+to live upon a handful of fruit, but every day it had been Peter’s
+job to assist in the preparation of a large beef-steak or a roast
+chicken. These were “for sacrificial purposes,” so the prophet
+explained to his attendants; and Peter would get the remains of the
+sacrificial beef-steaks and chickens, and would sacrificially devour
+them behind the pantry door. That had been one of his private
+grafts, which he got in return for keeping secret from the prophet
+some of the stealings of Tushbar Akrogas, the major-domo.
+
+A wonderful place had been this Temple of Jimjambo. There were
+mystic altars with seven veils before them, and thru these the Chief
+Magistrian would appear, clad in a long cream-colored robe with gold
+and purple borders, and with pink embroidered slippers and symbolic
+head-dress. His lectures and religious rites had been attended by
+hundreds--many of them rich society women, who came rolling up to
+the temple in their limousines. Also there had been a school, where
+children had been initiated into the mystic rites of the cult. The
+prophet would take these children into his private apartments, and
+there were awful rumors--which had ended in the raiding of the
+temple by the police, and the flight of the prophet, and likewise of
+the majordomo, and of Peter Gudge, his scullion and confederate.
+
+Also, Peter thought it was fun to tell Gerald Leslie about his
+adventures with the Holy Rollers, into whose church he had drifted
+during his search for a job. Peter had taken up with this sect, and
+learned the art of “talking in tongues,” and how to fall over the
+back of your chair in convulsions of celestial glory. Peter had
+gained the confidence of the Rev. Gamaliel Lunk, and had been
+secretly employed by him to carry on a propaganda among the
+congregation to obtain a raise in salary for the underpaid
+convulsionist. But certain things which Peter had learned had caused
+him to go over to the faction of Shoemaker Smithers, who was trying
+to persuade the congregation that he could roll harder and faster
+than the Rev. Gamaliel. Peter had only held this latter job a few
+days before he had been fired for stealing the fried doughnut.
+
+
+
+
+Section 10
+
+
+All these things and more Peter told; thinking that he was safe now,
+under the protection of authority. But after he had spent about two
+months in the hospital, he was summoned one day into the office, and
+there stood Guffey, glowering at him in a black fury. “You damned
+fool!” were Guffey’s first words.
+
+Peter’s knees went weak and his teeth began to chatter again.
+“Wh-wh-what?” he cried.
+
+“Didn’t I tell you to hold your mouth?” And Guffey looked as if he
+were going to twist Peter’s wrist again.
+
+“Mr. Guffey, I ain’t told a soul! I ain’t said one word about the
+Goober case, not one word!”
+
+Peter rushed on, pouring out protests. But Guffey cut him short.
+“Shut up, you nut! Maybe you didn’t talk about the Goober case, but
+you talked about yourself. Didn’t you tell somebody you’d worked
+with that fellow Kalandra?”
+
+“Y-y-yes, sir.”
+
+“And you knew the police were after him, and after you, too?”
+
+“Y-y-yes, sir.”
+
+“And you said you’d been arrested selling fake patent medicines?”
+
+“Y-y-yes, sir.”
+
+“Christ almighty!” cried Guffey. “And what kind of a witness do you
+think you’ll make?”
+
+“But,” cried Peter in despair, “I didn’t tell anybody that would
+matter. I only--”
+
+“What do you know what would matter?” roared the detective, adding
+a stream of furious oaths. “The Goober people have got spies on us;
+they’ve got somebody right here in this jail. Anyhow, they’ve found
+out about you and your record. You’ve gone and ruined us with your
+blabbing mouth!”
+
+“My Lord!” whispered Peter, his voice dying away.
+
+“Look at yourself on a witness-stand! Look at what they’ll do to you
+before a jury! Traveling over the country, swindling people with
+patent medicines--and getting in jail for it! Working for that
+hell-blasted scoundrel Kalandra--” and Guffey added some dreadful
+words, descriptive of the loathsome vices of which the Chief
+Magistrian had been accused. “And you mixed up in that kind of
+thing!”
+
+“I never done anything like that!” cried Peter wildly. “I didn’t
+even know for sure.”
+
+“Tell that to the jury!” sneered Guffey. “Why, they’ve even been to
+that Shoemaker Smithers, and they’ll put his wife on the stand to
+prove you a sneak thief, and tell how she kicked you out. And all
+because you couldn’t hold your mouth as I told you to!”
+
+Peter burst into tears. He fell down on his knees, pleading that he
+hadn’t meant any harm; he hadn’t had any idea that he was not
+supposed to talk about his past life; he hadn’t realized what a
+witness was, or what he was supposed to do. All he had been told was
+to keep quiet about the Goober case, and he had kept quiet. So Peter
+sobbed and pleaded--but in vain. Guffey ordered him back to the
+hole, declaring his intention to prove that Peter was the one who
+had thrown the bomb, and that Peter, instead of Jim Goober, had been
+the head and front of the conspiracy. Hadn’t Peter signed a
+confession that he had helped to make the bomb?
+
+
+
+
+Section 11
+
+
+Again Peter did not know how long he lay shivering in the black
+dungeon. He only knew that they brought him bread and water three
+times, before Guffey came again and summoned him forth. Peter now
+sat huddled into a chair, twisting his trembling hands together,
+while the chief detective of the Traction Trust explained to him his
+new program. Peter was permanently ruined as a witness in the case.
+The labor conspirators had raised huge sums for their defense; they
+had all the labor unions of the city, and in fact of the entire
+country behind them, and they were hiring spies and informers, and
+trying to find out all they could about the prosecution, the
+evidence it had collected and the moves it was preparing. Guffey did
+not say that he had been afraid to kick Peter out because of the
+possibility that Peter might go over to the Goober side and tell all
+he knew; but Peter guessed this while he sat listening to Guffey’s
+explanation, and realized with a thrill of excitement that at last
+he had really got a hold upon the ladder of prosperity. Not in vain
+had his finger been almost broken and his wrist almost dislocated!
+
+“Now,” said Guffey, “here’s my idea: As a witness you’re on the bum,
+but as a spy, you’re it. They know that you blabbed, and that I know
+it; they know I’ve had you in the hole. So now what I want to do is
+to make a martyr of you. D’you see?”
+
+Peter nodded; yes, he saw. It was his specialty, seeing things like
+that.
+
+“You’re an honest witness, you understand? I tried to get you to
+lie, and you wouldn’t, so now you go over to the other side, and
+they take you in, and you find out all you can, and from time to
+time you meet somebody as I’ll arrange it, and send me word what
+you’ve learned. You get me?”
+
+“I get you,” said Peter, eagerly. No words could portray his relief.
+He had a real job now! He was going to be a sleuth, like Guffey
+himself.
+
+“Now,” said Guffey, “the first thing I want to know is, who’s
+blabbing in this jail; we can’t do anything but they get tipped off.
+I’ve got witnesses that I want kept hidden, and I don’t dare put
+them here for fear of the Goober crowd. I want to know who are the
+traitors. I want to know a lot of things that I’ll tell you from
+time to time. I want you to get next to these Reds, and learn about
+their ideas, so you can talk their lingo.
+
+“Sure,” said Peter. He could not help smiling a little. He was
+supposed to be a “Red” already, to have been one of their leading
+conspirators. But Guffey had abandoned that pretence--or perhaps had
+forgotten about it!
+
+It was really an easy job that Peter had set before him. He did not
+have to pretend to be anything different from what he was. He would
+call himself a victim of circumstances, and would be honestly
+indignant against those who had sought to use him in a frame-up
+against Jim Goober. The rest would follow naturally. He would get
+the confidence of the labor people, and Guffey would tell him what
+to do next.
+
+“We’ll put you in one of the cells of this jail,” said the chief
+detective, “and we’ll pretend to give you a `third degree.’ You’ll
+holler and make a fuss, and say you won’t tell, and finally we’ll
+give up and kick you out. And then all you have to do is just hang
+around. They’ll come after you, or I miss my guess.”
+
+So the little comedy was arranged and played thru. Guffey took Peter
+by the collar and led him out into the main part of the jail, and
+locked him in one of a row of open cells. He grabbed Peter by the
+wrist and pretended to twist it, and Peter pretended to protest. He
+did not have to draw on his imagination; he knew how it felt, and
+how he was supposed to act, and he acted. He sobbed and screamed,
+and again and again he vowed that he had told the truth, that he
+knew nothing else than what he had told, and that nothing could make
+him tell any more. Guffey left him there until late the next
+afternoon, and then came again, and took him by the collar, and led
+him out to the steps of the jail, and gave him a parting kick.
+
+Peter was free! What a wonderful sensation--freedom! God! Had there
+ever been anything like it? He wanted to shout and howl with joy.
+But instead he staggered along the street, and sank down upon a
+stone coping, sobbing, with his head clasped in his hands, waiting
+for something to happen. And sure enough, it happened. Perhaps an
+hour passed, when he was touched lightly on the shoulder. “Comrade,”
+ said a soft voice, and Peter, looking between his fingers, saw the
+skirts of a girl. A folded slip of paper was pressed into his hand
+and the soft voice said: “Come to this address.” The girl walked on,
+and Peter’s heart leaped with excitement. Peter was a sleuth at
+last!
+
+
+
+
+Section 12
+
+
+Peter waited until after dark, in order to indulge his sense of the
+romantic; also he flattered his self-importance by looking carefully
+about him as he walked down the street. He did not know just who
+would be shadowing him, but Peter wanted to be sleuthy.
+
+Also he had a bit of genuine anxiety. He had told the truth when he
+said to Guffey that he didn’t know what a “Red” was; but since then
+he had been making in quiries, and now he knew. A “Red” was a fellow
+who sympathized with labor unions and with strikes; who wanted to
+murder the rich and divide their property, and believed that the
+quickest way to do the dividing was by means of dynamite. All “Reds”
+ made bombs, and carried concealed weapons, and perhaps secret
+poisons--who could tell? And now Peter was going among them, he was
+going to become one of them! It was almost too interesting, for a
+fellow who aimed above everything to be comfortable. Something in
+him whispered, “Why not skip; get out of town and be done with it?”
+ But then he thought of the rewards and honors that Guffey had
+promised him. Also there was the spirit of curiosity; he might skip
+at any time, but first he would like to know a bit more about being
+a “dick.”
+
+He came to the number which had been given him, a tiny bungalow in a
+poor neighborhood, and rang the doorbell. It was answered by a girl,
+and at a glance Peter saw that it was the girl who had spoken to
+him. She did not wait for him to announce himself, but cried
+impulsively, “Mr. Gudge! Oh, I’m so glad you’ve come!” She added,
+“Comrade!”--just as if Peter were a well-known friend. And then,
+“But _are_ you a comrade?”
+
+“How do you mean?” asked Peter.
+
+“You’re not a Socialist? Well, we’ll make one of you.” She brought
+him in and showed him to a chair, saying, “I know what they did to
+you; and you stood out against them! Oh, you were wonderful!
+Wonderful!”
+
+Peter was at a loss what to say. There was in this girl’s voice a
+note of affection, as well as of admiration; and Peter in his hard
+life had had little experience with emotions of this sort. Peter had
+watched the gushings and excitements of girls who were seeking
+flirtations; but this girl’s attitude he felt at once was not
+flirtatious. Her voice tho soft, was just a trifle too solemn for a
+young girl; her deep-set, wistful grey eyes rested on Peter with the
+solicitude of a mother whose child has just escaped a danger.
+
+She called: “Sadie, here’s Mr. Gudge.” And there entered another
+girl, older, taller, but thin and pale like her sister. Jennie and
+Sadie Todd were their names, Peter learned; the older was a
+stenographer, and supported the family. The two girls were in a
+state of intense concern. They started to question Peter about his
+experiences, but he had only talked for a minute or two before the
+elder went to the telephone. There were various people who must see
+Peter at once, important people who were to be notified as soon as
+he turned up. She spent some time at the phone, and the people she
+talked with must have phoned to others, because for the next hour or
+two there was a constant stream of visitors coming in, and Peter had
+to tell his story over and over again.
+
+The first to come was a giant of a man with tight-set mouth and so
+powerful a voice that it frightened Peter. He was not surprised to
+learn that this man was the leader of one of the most radical of the
+city’s big labor unions, the seamen’s. Yes, he was a “Red,” all
+right; he corresponded to Peter’s imaginings--a grim, dangerous man,
+to be pictured like Samson, seizing the pillars of society and
+pulling them down upon his head. “They’ve got you scared, my boy,”
+ he said, noting Peter’s hesitating answers to his questions. “Well,
+they’ve had me scared for forty-five years, but I’ve never let them
+know it yet.” Then, in order to cheer Peter up and strengthen his
+nerves, he told how he, a runaway seaman, had been hunted thru the
+Everglades of Florida with bloodhounds, and tied to a tree and
+beaten into insensibility.
+
+Then came David Andrews, whom Peter had heard of as one of the
+lawyers in the Goober case, a tall, distinguished-looking man with
+keen, alert features. What was such a man doing among these
+outcasts? Peter decided that he must be one of the shrewd ones who
+made money out of inciting the discontented. Then came a young girl,
+frail and sensitive, slightly crippled. As she crossed the room to
+shake his hand tears rolled down her cheeks, and Peter stood
+embarrassed, wondering if she had just lost a near relative, and
+what was he to say about it. From her first words he gathered, to
+his great consternation, that she had been moved to tears by the
+story of what he himself had endured.
+
+Ada Ruth was a poet, and this was a new type for Peter; after much
+groping in his mind he set her down for one of the dupes of the
+movement--a poor little sentimental child, with no idea of the
+wickedness by which she was surrounded. With her came a Quaker boy
+with pale, ascetic face and black locks which he had to shake back
+from his eyes every now and then; he wore a Windsor tie, and a black
+felt hat, and other marks of eccentricity and from his speeches
+Peter gathered that he was ready to blow up all the governments of
+the world in the interests of Pacificism. The same was true of
+McCormick, an I. W. W. leader who had just served sixty days in
+jail, a silent young Irishman with drawn lips and restless black
+eyes, who made Peter uneasy by watching him closely and saying
+scarcely a word.
+
+
+
+
+Section 13
+
+
+They continued to come, one at a time or in groups; old women and
+young women, old men and young men, fanatics and dreamers, agitators
+who could hardly open their mouths without some white-hot words
+escaping, revealing a blaze of passion smouldering in the deeps of
+them. Peter became more and more uneasy, realizing that he was
+actually in the midst of all the most dangerous “Reds” of American
+City. They it was whom our law-abiding citizens dreaded, who were
+the objects of more concern to the police than all the plain,
+everyday burglars and bandits. Peter now could see the reason--he
+had not dreamed that such angry and hate-tormented people existed in
+the world. Such people would be capable of anything! He sat, with
+his restless eyes wandering from one face to another. Which one of
+this crowd had helped to set off the bomb? And would they boast
+about it to him this evening?
+
+Peter half expected this; but then again, he wondered. They were
+such strange criminals! They called him “Comrade”; and they spoke
+with that same affection that had so bewildered him in little
+Jennie. Was this just a ruse to get his confidence, or did these
+people really think that they loved him--Peter Gudge, a stranger and
+a secret enemy? Peter had been at great pains to fool them; but they
+seemed to him so easy to fool that his pains were wasted. He
+despised them for this, and all the while he listened to them he was
+saying to himself, “The poor nuts!”
+
+They had come to hear his story, and they plied him with questions,
+and made him tell over and over again every detail. Peter, of
+course, had been carefully instructed; he was not to mention the
+elaborate confession he had been made to sign; that would be giving
+too dangerous a weapon to these enemies of law and order. He must
+tell as brief a story as possible; how he had happened to be near
+the scene of the explosion, and how the police had tried to force
+him to admit that he knew something about the case. Peter told this,
+according to orders; but he had not been prepared for the minute
+questioning to which he was subjected by Andrews, the lawyer, aided
+by old John Durand, the leader of the seamen. They wanted to know
+everything that had been done to him, and who had done it, and how
+and when and where and why. Peter had a sense of the dramatic, and
+enjoyed being the center of attention and admiration, even tho it
+was from a roomful of criminal “Reds.” So he told all the
+picturesque details of how Guffey had twisted his wrist and shut him
+in a dungeon; the memory of the pain was still poignant, and came
+out of him now, with a realism that would have moved a colder group.
+
+So pretty soon here were all these women sobbing and raging. Little
+Ada Ruth became inspired, and began reciting a poem--or was she
+composing it right here, before his eyes? She seemed entranced with
+indignation. It was something about the workers arising--the outcry
+of a mob--
+
+     “No further patience with a heedless foe--
+     Get off our backs, or else to hell you go!”
+
+Peter listened, and thought to himself, “The poor nut!” And then
+Donald Gordon, the Quaker boy, took the floor, and began shaking his
+long black locks, and composing a speech, it seemed. And Peter
+listened, and thought again, “The poor nut!” Then another man, the
+editor of a labor journal, revealed the fact that he was composing
+an editorial; he knew Guffey, and was going to publish Guffey’s
+picture, and brand him as an “Inquisitionist.” He asked for Peter’s
+picture, and Peter agreed to have one taken, and to be headlined as
+“The Inquisitionist’s Victim.” Peter had no idea what the long word
+meant; but he assented, and thought again, “The poor nut!” All of
+them were “nuts”--taking other people’s troubles with such
+excitement!
+
+But Peter was frightened, too; he couldn’t altogether enjoy being a
+hero, in this vivid and startling fashion; having his name and fame
+spread from one end of the country to the other, so that organized
+labor might know the methods which the great traction interests of
+American City were employing to send a well-known labor leader to
+the gallows! The thing seemed to grow and grow before Peter’s
+frightened eyes. Peter, the ant, felt the earth shaking, and got a
+sudden sense of the mountain size of the mighty giants who were
+stamping in combat over his head. Peter wondered, had Guffey
+realized what a stir his story would make, what a powerful weapon he
+was giving to his enemies? What could Guffey expect to get from
+Peter, to compensate for this damage to his own case? Peter, as he
+listened to the stormy oratory in the crowded little room, found
+himself thinking again and again of running away. He had never seen
+anything like the rage into which these people worked themselves,
+the terrible things they said, the denunciations, not merely of the
+police of American City, but of the courts and the newspapers, the
+churches and the colleges, everything that seemed respectable and
+sacred to law-abiding citizens like Peter Gudge.
+
+Peter’s fright became apparent. But why shouldn’t he be frightened?
+Andrews, the lawyer, offered to take him away and hide him, lest the
+opposition should try to make way with him. Peter would be a most
+important witness for the Goober defense, and they must take good
+care of him. But Peter recovered his self-possession, and took up
+his noble role. No, he would take his chances with the rest of them,
+he was not too much afraid.
+
+Sadie Todd, the stenographer, rewarded him for his heroism. They had
+a spare bedroom in their little home, and if Peter cared to stay
+with them for a while, they would try to make him comfortable. Peter
+accepted this invitation, and at a late hour in the evening the
+gathering broke up. The various groups of “Reds” went their way,
+their hands clenched and their faces portraying a grim resolve to
+make out of Peter’s story a means of lashing discontented labor to
+new frenzies of excitement. The men clasped Peter’s hand cordially;
+the ladies gazed at him with soulful eyes, and whispered their
+admiration for his brave course, their hope, indeed their
+conviction, that he would stand by the truth to the end, and would
+study their ideas and join their “movement.” All the while Peter
+watched them, and continued saying to himself: “The poor nuts!”
+
+
+
+
+Section 14
+
+
+The respectable newspapers of American City of course did not waste
+their space upon fantastic accusations brought by radicals, charging
+the police authorities with using torture upon witnesses. But there
+was a Socialist paper published every week in American City, and
+this paper had a long account of Peter’s experiences on the front
+page, together with his picture. Also there were three labor papers
+which carried the story, and the Goober Defense Committee prepared a
+circular about it and mailed out thousands of copies all over the
+country. This circular was written by Donald Gordon, the Quaker boy.
+He brought Peter a proof of it, to make sure that he had got all the
+details right, and Peter read it, and really could not help being
+thrilled to discover what a hero he was. Peter had not said anything
+about his early career, and whoever among the Goober Defense
+Committee had learned those details chose to be diplomatically
+silent. Peter smiled to himself as he thought about that. They were
+foxy, these people! They were playing their hand for all it was
+worth--and Peter admired them for that. In Donald Gordon’s narrative
+Peter appeared as a poor workingman; and Peter grinned. He was used
+to the word “working,” but when he talked about “working people,” he
+meant something different from what these Socialists meant.
+
+The story went out, and of course all sorts of people wanted to meet
+Peter, and came to the home of the Todd girls. So Peter settled down
+to his job of finding out all he could about these visitors, their
+names and occupations, their relations to the radical movement.
+Guffey had advised him not to make notes, for fear of detection, but
+Peter could not carry all this in his head, so he would retire to
+his room and make minute notes on slips of paper, and carefully sew
+these up in the lining of his coat, with a thrill of mystery.
+
+Except for this note-taking, however, Peter’s sleuthing was easy
+work, for these people all seemed eager to talk about what they were
+doing; sometimes it frightened Peter--they were so open and defiant!
+Not merely did they express their ideas to one another and to him,
+they were expressing them on public platforms, and in their
+publications, in pamphlets and in leaflets--what they called
+“literature.” Peter had had no idea their “movement” was so
+widespread or so powerful. He had expected to unearth a secret
+conspiracy, and perhaps a dynamite-bomb or two; instead of which,
+apparently, he was unearthing a volcano!
+
+However, Peter did the best he could. He got the names and details
+about some forty or fifty people of all classes; obscure workingmen
+and women, Jewish tailors, Russian and Italian cigar-workers,
+American-born machinists and printers; also some “parlor
+Reds”--large, immaculate and shining ladies who came rolling up to
+the little bungalow in large, immaculate and shining automobiles,
+and left their uniformed chauffeurs outside for hours at a time
+while they listened to Peter’s story of his “third degree.” One
+benevolent lady with a flowing gray veil, who wafted a sweet perfume
+about the room, suggested that Peter might be in need, and pressed a
+twenty dollar bill into his hand. Peter, thrilled, but also
+bewildered, got a new sense of the wonders of this thing called “the
+movement,” and decided that when Guffey got thru with him he might
+turn into a “Red” in earnest for a while.
+
+Meantime he settled down to make himself comfortable with the Todd
+sisters. Sadie went off to her work before eight o’clock every
+morning, and that was before Peter got up; but Jennie stayed at
+home, and fixed his breakfast, and opened the door for his visitors,
+and in general played the hostess for him. She was a confirmed
+invalid; twice a week she went off to a doctor to have something
+done to her spine, and the balance of the time she was supposed to
+be resting, but Peter very seldom saw her doing this. She was always
+addressing circulars, or writing letters for the “cause,” or going
+off to sell literature and take up collections at meetings. When she
+was not so employed, she was arguing with somebody--frequently with
+Peter--trying to make him think as she did.
+
+Poor kid, she was all wrought up over the notions she had got about
+the wrongs of the working classes. She gave herself no peace about
+it, day or night, and this, of course, was a bore to Peter, who
+wanted peace above all things. Over in Europe millions of men were
+organized in armies, engaged in slaughtering one another. That, of
+course, was, very terrible, but what was the good of thinking about
+it? There was no way to stop it, and it certainly wasn’t Peter’s
+fault. But this poor, deluded child was acting all the time as if
+she were to blame for this European conflict, and had the job of
+bringing it to a close. The tears would come into her deep-set grey
+eyes, and her soft chin would quiver with pain whenever she talked
+about it; and it seemed to Peter she was talking about it all the
+time. It was her idea that the war must be stopped by uprisings on
+the part of the working people in Europe. Apparently she thought
+this might be hastened if the working people of American City would
+rise up and set an example!
+
+
+
+
+Section 15
+
+
+Jennie talked about this plan quite openly; she would put a red
+ribbon in her hair, and pin a red badge on her bosom, and go into
+meeting-places and sell little pamphlets with red covers. So, of
+course, it would be Peter’s duty to report her to the head of the
+secret service of the Traction Trust. Peter regretted this, and was
+ashamed of having to do it; she was a nice little girl, and pretty,
+too, and a fellow might have had some fun with her if she had not
+been in such a hysterical state. He would sit and look at her, as
+she sat bent over her typewriter. She had soft, fluffy hair, the
+color of twilight, and even white teeth, and a faint flush that came
+and went in her cheeks--yes, she would not be bad looking at all, if
+only she would straighten up, and spend a little time on her looks,
+as other girls did.
+
+But no, she was always in a tension, and the devil of it was, she
+was trying to get Peter into the same state. She was absolutely
+determined that Peter must get wrought up over the wrongs of the
+working classes. She took it for granted that he would, when he was
+instructed. She would tell him harrowing stories, and it was his
+duty to be duly harrowed; he must be continually acting an emotional
+part. She would give him some of her “literature” to read, and then
+she would pin him down and make sure that he had read it. He knew
+how to read--Pericles Priam had seen to that, because he wanted him
+to attend to the printing of his circulars and his advertisements in
+the country newspapers where he was traveling. So now Peter was
+penned in a corner and compelled to fix his attention upon “The A.
+B. C. of Socialism,” or “Capital and Proletariat,” or “The Path to
+Power.”
+
+Peter told himself that it was part of his job to acquire this
+information. He was going to be a “Red,” and he must learn their
+lingo; but he found it awfully tiresome, full of long technical
+words which he had never heard before. Why couldn’t these fellows at
+least talk American? He had known that there were Socialists, and
+also “Arnychists,” as he called them, and he thought they were all
+alike. But now he learned, not merely about Socialists and
+“Arnychists,” but about State Socialists and Communist Anarchists,
+and Communist Syndicalists and Syndicalist Anarchists and Socialist
+Syndicalists, and Reformist Socialists and Guild Socialists, to say
+nothing about Single Taxers and Liberals and Progressives and
+numerous other varieties, whom he had to meet and classify and
+listen to respectfully and sympathetically. Each particular group
+insisted upon the distinctions which made it different, and each
+insisted that it had the really, truly truth; and Peter became
+desperately bored with their everlasting talk--how much more simple
+to lump them all together, as did Guffey and McGivney, calling them
+all “Reds!”
+
+Peter had got it clearly fixed in his mind that what these “Reds”
+ wanted was to divide up the property of the rich. Everyone he had
+questioned about them had said this. But now he learned that this
+wasn’t it exactly. What they wanted was to have the State take over
+the industries, or to have the labor unions do it, or to have the
+working people in general do it. They pointed to the post office and
+the army and the navy, as examples of how the State could run
+things. Wasn’t that all right? demanded Jennie. And Peter said Yes,
+that was all right; but hidden back in Peter’s soul all the time was
+a whisper that it wouldn’t make a damn bit of difference. There was
+a sucker born every minute, and you might be sure that no matter how
+they fixed it up, there would always be some that would find it easy
+to live off the rest. This poor kid, for example, who was ready to
+throw herself away for any fool notion, or for anybody that came
+along and told her a hard-luck story--would there ever be a state of
+society in which she wouldn’t be a juicy morsel to be gobbled up by
+some fellow with a normal appetite?
+
+She was alone in the house all day with Peter, and she got to seem
+more and more pretty as he got to know her better. Also it was
+evident that she liked Peter more and more as Peter played his game.
+Peter revealed himself as deeply sympathetic, and a quick convert to
+the cause; he saw everything that Jennie explained to him, he was
+horrified at the horrible stories, he was ready to help her end the
+European war by starting a revolution among the working people of
+American City. Also, he told her about himself, and awakened her
+sympathy for his harsh life, his twenty years of privation and
+servitude; and when she wept over this, Peter liked it. It was fine,
+somehow, to have her so sorry for him; it helped to compensate him
+for the boredom of hearing her be sorry for the whole working class.
+
+Peter didn’t know whether Jennie had learned about his bad record,
+but he took no chances--he told her everything, and thus took the
+sting out of it. Yes, he had been trapped into evil ways, but it
+wasn’t his fault, he hadn’t known any better, he had been a pitiful
+victim of circumstances. He told how he had been starved and driven
+about and beaten by “Old Man” Drubb, and the tears glistened in
+Jennie’s grey eyes and stole down her cheeks. He told about
+loneliness and heartsickness and misery in the orphan asylum. And
+how could he, poor lad, realize that it was wrong to help Pericles
+Priam sell his Peerless Pain Paralyzer? How could he know whether
+the medicine was any good or not--he didn’t even know now, as a
+matter of fact. As for the Temple of Jimjambo, all that Peter had
+done was to wash dishes and work as a kitchen slave, as in any hotel
+or restaurant.
+
+It was a story easy to fix up, and especially easy because the first
+article in the creed of Socialist Jennie was that economic
+circumstances were to blame for human frailties. That opened the
+door for all varieties of grafters, and made the child such an easy
+mark that Peter would have been ashamed to make a victim of her, had
+it not been that she happened to stand in the path of his higher
+purposes--and also that she happened to be young, only seventeen,
+with tender grey eyes, and tempting, sweet lips, alone there in the
+house all day.
+
+
+
+
+Section 16
+
+
+Peter’s adventures in love had so far been pretty much of a piece
+with the rest of his life experiences; there had been hopes, and
+wonderful dreams, but very few realizations. Peter knew a lot about
+such matters; in the orphan asylum there were few vicious practices
+which he did not witness, few obscene imaginings with which he was
+not made familiar. Also, Pericles Priam had been a man like the
+traditional sailor, with a girl in every port; and generally in
+these towns and villages there had been no place for Peter to go
+save where Pericles went, so Peter had been the witness of many of
+his master’s amours and the recipient of his confidences. But none
+of these girls and women had paid any attention to Peter. Peter was
+only a “kid”; and when he grew up and was no longer a kid, but a
+youth tormented with sharp desires, they still paid no attention to
+him--why should they? Peter was nothing; he had no position, no
+money, no charms; he was frail and undersized, his teeth were
+crooked, and one shoulder higher than the other. What could he
+expect from women and girls but laughter and rebuffs?
+
+Then Peter moved on to the Temple of Jimjambo, and there a
+devastating experience befell him--he tumbled head over heels and
+agonizingly in love. There was a chambermaid in the institution, a
+radiant creature from the Emerald Isles with hair like sunrise and
+cheeks like apples, and a laugh that shook the dish-pans on the
+kitchen walls. She laughed at Peter, she laughed at the major-domo,
+she laughed at all the men in the place who tried to catch her round
+the waist. Once or twice a month perhaps she would let them succeed,
+just to keep them interested, and to keep herself in practice.
+
+The only one she really favored was the laundry deliveryman, and
+Peter soon realized why. This laundry fellow had the use of an
+automobile on Sundays, and Nell would dress herself up to kill, and
+roll away in state with him. He would spend all his week’s earnings
+entertaining her at the beach; Peter knew, because she would tell
+the whole establishment on Monday morning. “Gee, but I had a swell
+time!” she would say; and would count the ice-creams and the
+merry-go-rounds and the whirly-gigs and all the whang-doodle things.
+She would tell about the tattooed men and the five-legged calf and
+the woman who was half man, and all the while she would make the
+dishpans rattle.
+
+Yes, she was a marvelous creature, and Peter suddenly realized that
+his ultimate desire in life was to possess a “swell lady-friend”
+ like Nell. He realized that there was one essential prerequisite,
+and that was money. None of them would look at you without money.
+Nell had gone out with him only once, and that was upon the savings
+of six months, and Peter had not been able to conceal the effort it
+cost him to spend it all. So he had been set down as a “tight-wad,”
+ and had made no headway.
+
+Nell had disappeared, along with everybody else when the police
+raided the Temple. Peter never knew what had become of her, but the
+old longings still haunted him, and he would find himself
+imagining--suppose the police had got her; suppose she were in jail,
+and he with his new “pull” were able to get her out, and carry her
+away and keep her hid from the laundry man!
+
+These were dreams; but meantime here was reality, here was a new
+world. Peter had settled down in the home of the Todd sisters; and
+what was their attitude toward these awful mysteries of love?
+
+
+
+
+Section 17
+
+
+It had been arranged with Guffey that at the end of a week Peter was
+to have a secret meeting with one of the chief detective’s men. So
+Peter told the girls that he was tired of being a prisoner in the
+house and must get some fresh air.
+
+“Oh please, Mr. Gudge, don’t take such a chance!” cried Sadie, her
+thin, anxious face suddenly growing more anxious and thin. “Don’t
+you know this house is being watched? They are just hoping to catch
+you out alone. It would be the last of you.”
+
+“I’m not so important as that,” said Peter; but she insisted that he
+was, and Peter was pleased, in spite of his boredom, he liked to
+hear her insist upon his importance.
+
+“Oh!” she cried. “Don’t you know yet how much depends on you as a
+witness for the Goober defense? This case is of concern to millions
+of people all over the world! It is a test case, Mr. Gudge--are they
+to be allowed to murder the leaders of the working class without a
+struggle? No, we must show them that there is a great movement, a
+world-wide awakening of the workers, a struggle for freedom for the
+wage slaves--”
+
+But Peter could stand no more of this. “All right,” he said,
+suddenly interrupting Sadie’s eloquence. “I suppose it’s my duty to
+stay, even if I die of consumption, being shut up without any fresh
+air.” He would play the martyr; which was not so hard, for he was
+one, and looked like one, with his thin, one-sided little figure,
+and his shabby clothes. Both Sadie and Jennie gazed at him with
+admiration, and sighed with relief.
+
+But later on, Peter thought of an idea. He could go out at night, he
+told Sadie, and slip out the back way, so that no one would see him;
+he would not go into crowds or brightly lighted streets, so there
+would be no chance of his being recognized. There was a fellow he
+absolutely had to see, who owed him some money; it was way over on
+the other side of the city--that was why he rejected Jennie’s offer
+to accompany him.
+
+So that evening Peter climbed a back fence and stole thru a
+neighbor’s chicken-yard and got away. He had a fine time ducking and
+dodging in the crowds, making sure that no one was trailing him to
+his secret rendezvous--no “Red” who might chance to be suspicious of
+his “comradeship.” It was in the “American House,” an obscure hotel,
+and Peter was to take the elevator to the fourth floor, without
+speaking to any one, and to tap three times on the door of Room 427.
+Peter did so, and the door opened, and he slipped in, and there he
+met Jerry McGivney, with the face of a rat.
+
+“Well, what have you got?” demanded McGivney; and Peter sat down
+and started to tell. With eager fingers he undid the amateur sewing
+in the lining of his coat, and pulled out his notes with the names
+and descriptions of people who had come to see him.
+
+McGivney glanced over them quickly. “Jesus!” he said, “What’s the
+good of all this?”
+
+“Well, but they’re Reds!” exclaimed Peter.
+
+“I know,” said the other, “but what of that? We can go hear them
+spout at meetings any night. We got membership lists of these
+different organizations. But what about the Goober case?”
+
+“Well,” said Peter, “they’re agitating about it all the time;
+they’ve been printing stuff about me.”
+
+“Sure, we know that,” said McGivney. “And the hell of a fine story
+you gave them; you must have enjoyed hearing yourself talk. But what
+good does that do us?”
+
+“But what do you want to know?” cried Peter, in dismay.
+
+“We want to know their secret plans,” said the other. “We want to
+know what they’re doing to get our witnesses; we want to know who it
+is that is selling us out, who’s the spy in the jail. Didn’t you
+find that out?”
+
+“N-no,” said Peter. “Nobody said anything about it.”
+
+“Good God!” said the detective. “D’you expect them to bring you
+things on a silver tray?” He began turning over Peter’s notes
+again, and finally threw them on the bed in disgust. He began
+questioning Peter, and Peter’s dismay turned to despair. He had not
+got a single thing that McGivney wanted. His whole week of
+“sleuthing” had been wasted!
+
+The detective did not mince words. “It’s plain that you’re a boob,”
+ he said. “But such as you are, we’ve got to do the best we can with
+you. Now, put your mind on it and get it straight: we know who these
+Reds are, and we know what they’re teaching; we can’t send ‘em to
+jail for that. What we want you to find out is the name of their
+spy, and who are their witnesses in the Goober case, and what
+they’re going to say.”
+
+“But how can I find out things like that?” cried Peter.
+
+“You’ve got to use your wits,” said McGivney. “But I’ll give you one
+tip; get yourself a girl.”
+
+“A girl?” cried Peter, in wonder.
+
+“Sure thing,” said the other. “That’s the way we always work. Guffey
+says there’s just three times when people tell their secrets: The
+first is when they’re drunk, and the second is when they’re in
+love--”
+
+Then McGivney stopped. Peter, who wanted to complete his education,
+inquired, “And the third?”
+
+“The third is when they’re both drunk and in love,” was the reply.
+And Peter was silent, smitten with admiration. This business of
+sleuthing was revealing itself as more complicated and more
+fascinating all the time.
+
+“Ain’t you seen any girl you fancy in that crowd?” demanded the
+other.
+
+“Well--it might be--” said Peter, shyly.
+
+“It ought to be easy,” continued the detective. “Them Reds are all
+free lovers, you know.”
+
+“Free lovers!” exclaimed Peter. “How do you mean?”
+
+“Didn’t you know about that?” laughed the other.
+
+Peter sat staring at him. All the women that Peter had ever known or
+heard of took money for their love. They either took it directly, or
+they took it in the form of automobile rides and flowers and candy
+and tickets to the whang-doodle things. Could it be that there were
+women who did not take money in either form, but whose love was
+entirely free?
+
+The detective assured him that such was the case. “They boast about
+it,” said he. “They think it’s right.” And to Peter that seemed the
+most shocking thing he had yet heard about the Reds.
+
+To be sure, when he thought it over, he could see that it had some
+redeeming points; it was decidedly convenient from the point of view
+of the man; it was so much money in his pocket. If women chose to be
+that silly--and Peter found himself suddenly thinking about little
+Jennie Todd. Yes, she would be that silly, it was plain to see. She
+gave away everything she had; so of course she would be a “free
+lover!”
+
+Peter went away from his rendezvous with McGivney, thrilling with a
+new and wonderful idea. You couldn’t have got him to give up his job
+now. This sleuthing business was the real thing!
+
+It was late when Peter got home, but the two girls were sitting up
+for him, and their relief at his safe return was evident. He noticed
+that Jennie’s face expressed deeper concern than her sister’s, and
+this gave him a sudden new emotion. Jennie’s breath came and went
+more swiftly because he had entered the room; and this affected his
+own breath in the same way. He had a swift impulse towards her, an
+entirely unselfish desire to reassure her and relieve her anxiety;
+but with an instinctive understanding of the sex game which he had
+not before known he possessed, he checked this impulse and turned
+instead to the older sister, assuring her that nobody had followed
+him. He told an elaborate story, prepared on the way; he had worked
+for ten days for a fellow at sawing wood--hard work, you bet, and
+then the fellow had tried to get out of paying him! Peter had caught
+him at his home that evening, and had succeeded in getting five
+dollars out of him, and a promise of a few dollars more every week.
+That was to cover future visits to McGivney.
+
+
+
+
+Section 18
+
+
+Peter lay awake a good part of the night, thinking over this new
+job--that of getting himself a girl. He realized that for some time
+he had been falling in love with little Jennie; but he wanted to be
+sane and practical, he wanted to use his mind in choosing a girl. He
+was after information, first of all. And who had the most to give
+him? He thought of Miss Nebbins, who was secretary to Andrews, the
+lawyer; she would surely know more secrets than anyone else; but
+then, Miss Nebbins was an old maid, who wore spectacles and
+broad-toed shoes, and was evidently out of the question for
+love-making. Then he thought of Miss Standish, a tall, blond beauty
+who worked in an insurance office and belonged to the Socialist
+Party. She was a “swell dresser,” and Peter would have been glad to
+have something like that to show off to McGivney and the rest of
+Guffey’s men; but with the best efforts of his self-esteem, Peter
+could not imagine himself persuading Miss Standish to look at him.
+There was a Miss Yankovich, one of the real Reds, who trained with
+the I. W. W.; but she was a Jewess, with sharp, black eyes that
+clearly indicated a temper, and frightened Peter. Also, he had a
+suspicion that she was interested in McCormick--tho of course with
+these “free lovers” you could never tell.
+
+But one girl Peter was quite sure about, and that was little Jennie;
+he didn’t know if Jennie knew many secrets, but surely she could
+find some out for him. Once he got her for his own, he could use her
+to question others. And so Peter began to picture what love with
+Jennie would be like. She wasn’t exactly what you would call
+“swell,” but there was something about her that made him sure he
+needn’t be ashamed of her. With some new clothes she would be
+pretty, and she had grand manners--she had not shown the least fear
+of the rich ladies who came to the house in their automobiles; also
+she knew an awful lot for a girl--even if most of what she knew
+wasn’t so!
+
+Peter lost no time in setting to work at his new job. In the papers
+next morning appeared the usual details from Flanders; thousands of
+men being shot to pieces almost every hour of the day and night, a
+million men on each side locked in a ferocious combat that had
+lasted for weeks, that might last for months. And sentimental little
+Jennie sat there with brimming eyes, talking about it while Peter
+ate his oatmeal and thin milk. And Peter talked about it too; how
+wicked it was, and how they must stop it, he and Jennie together. He
+agreed with her now; he was a Socialist, he called her “Comrade,”
+ and told her she had converted him. Her eyes lighted up with joy, as
+if she had really done something to end the war.
+
+They were sitting on the sofa, looking at the paper, and they were
+alone in the house. Peter suddenly looked up from the reading and
+said, very much embarrassed, “But Comrade Jennie--”
+
+“Yes,” she said, and looked at him with her frank grey eyes. Peter
+was shy, truly a little frightened, this kind of detective business
+being new to him.
+
+“Comrade Jennie,” he said, “I--I--don’t know just how to say it, but
+I’m afraid I’m falling a little in love.”
+
+Jennie drew back her hands, and Peter heard her breath come quickly.
+“Oh, Mr. Gudge!” she exclaimed.
+
+“I--I don’t know--” stammered Peter. “I hope you won’t mind.”
+
+“Oh, don’t let’s do that!” she cried.
+
+“Why not, Comrade Jennie?” And he added, “I don’t know as I can
+help it.”
+
+“Oh, we were having such a happy time, Mr. Gudge! I thought we were
+going to work for the cause!”
+
+“Well, but it won’t interfere--”
+
+“Oh, but it does, it does; it makes people unhappy!”
+
+“Then--” and Peter’s voice trembled--“then you don’t care the least
+bit for me, Comrade Jennie?”
+
+She hesitated a moment. “I don’t know,” she said. “I hadn’t
+thought--”
+
+And Peter’s heart gave a leap inside him. It was the first time that
+any girl had ever had to hesitate in answering that question for
+Peter. Something prompted him--just as if he had been doing this
+kind of “sleuthing” all his life. He reached over, and very gently
+took her hand. “You do care just a little for me?” he whispered.
+
+“Oh, Comrade Gudge,” she answered, and Peter said, “Call me `Peter.’
+Please, please do.”
+
+“Comrade Peter,” she said, and there was a little catch in her
+throat, and Peter, looking at her, saw that her eyes were cast down.
+
+“I know I’m not very much to love,” he pleaded. “I’m poor and
+obscure--I’m not good looking--”
+
+“Oh, it isn’t that!” she cried, “Oh, no, no! Why should I think
+about such things? You are a comrade!”
+
+Peter had known, of course, just how she would take this line of
+talk. “Nobody has ever loved me,” he said, sadly. “Nobody cares
+anything about you, when you are poor, and have nothing to offer--”
+
+“I tell you, that isn’t it!” she insisted. “Please don’t think that!
+You are a hero. You have sacrificed for the cause, and you are going
+on and become a leader.”
+
+“I hope so,” said Peter, modestly. “But then, what is it, Comrade
+Jennie? Why don’t you care for me?”
+
+She looked up at him, and their eyes met, and with a little sob in
+her voice she answered, “I’m not well, Comrade Peter. I’m of no use;
+it would be wicked for me to marry.”
+
+Somewhere back in the depths of Peter, where his inner self was
+crouching, it was as if a sudden douche of ice-cold water were let
+down on him. “Marry!” Who had said anything about marrying? Peter’s
+reaction fitted the stock-phrase of the comic papers: “This is so
+sudden!”
+
+But Peter was too clever to reveal such dismay. He humored little
+Jennie, saying, “We don’t have to marry right away. I could wait, if
+only I knew that you cared for me; and some day, when you get
+well--”
+
+She shook her head sadly. “I’m afraid I’ll never get really well.
+And besides, neither of us have any money, Comrade Peter.”
+
+Ah, there it was! Money, always money! This “free love” was nothing
+but a dream.
+
+“I could get a job,” said Peter--just like any other tame and
+conventional wooer.
+
+“But you couldn’t earn enough for two of us,” protested the girl;
+and suddenly she sprang up. “Oh, Comrade Peter, let’s not fall in
+love with each other! Let’s not make ourselves unhappy, let’s work
+for the cause! Promise me that you will!”
+
+Peter promised; but of course he had no remotest intention of
+keeping the promise. He was not only a detective, he was a man--and
+in both capacities he wanted Comrade Jennie. He had all the rest of
+the day, and over the addressing of envelopes which he undertook
+with her, he would now and then steal love-glances; and Jennie knew
+now what these looks meant, and the faint flush would creep over her
+cheeks and down into her neck and throat. She was really very pretty
+when she was falling in love, and Peter found his new job the most
+delightful one of his lifetime. He watched carefully, and noted the
+signs, and was sure he was making no mistake; before Sadie came back
+at supper-time he had his arms about Comrade Jennie, and was
+pressing kisses upon the lovely white throat; and Comrade Jennie was
+sobbing softly, and her pleading with him to stop had grown faint
+and unconvincing.
+
+
+
+
+Section 19
+
+
+There was the question of Sadie to be settled. There was a certain
+severe look that sometimes came about Sadie’s lips, and that caused
+Peter to feel absolutely certain that Comrade Sadie had no sympathy
+with “free love,” and very little sympathy with any love save her
+own for Jennie. She had nursed her “little sister” and tended her
+like a mother for many years; she took the food out of her mouth to
+give to Jennie--and Jennie in turn gave it to any wandering agitator
+who came along and hung around until mealtime. Peter didn’t want
+Sadie to know what had been going on in her absence, and yet he was
+afraid to suggest to Jennie that she should deceive her sister.
+
+He managed it very tactfully. Jennie began pleading again: “We ought
+not to do this, Comrade Peter!” And so Peter agreed, perhaps they
+oughtn’t, and they wouldn’t any more. So Jennie put her hair in
+order, and straightened her blouse, and her lover could see that she
+wasn’t going to tell Sadie.
+
+And the next day they were kissing again and agreeing again that
+they mustn’t do it; and so once more Jennie didn’t tell Sadie.
+Before long Peter had managed to whisper the suggestion that their
+love was their own affair, and they ought not to tell anybody for
+the present; they would keep the delicious secret, and it would do
+no one any harm. Jennie had read somewhere about a woman poet by the
+name of Mrs. Browning, who had been an invalid all her life, and
+whose health had been completely restored by a great and wonderful
+love. Such a love had now come to her; only Sadie might not
+understand, Sadie might think they did not know each other well
+enough, and that they ought to wait. They knew, of course, that they
+really did know each other perfectly, so there was no reason for
+uncertainty or fear. Peter managed deftly to put these suggestions
+into Jennie’s mind as if they were her own.
+
+And all the time he was making ardent love to her; all day long,
+while he was helping her address envelopes and mail out circulars
+for the Goober Defense Committee. He really did work hard; he didn’t
+mind working, when he had Jennie at the table beside him, and could
+reach over and hold her hand every now and then, or catch her in his
+arms and murmur passionate words. Delicious thrills and raptures
+possessed him; his hopes would rise like a flood-tide--but then,
+alas, only to ebb again! He would get so far, and every time it
+would be as if he had run into a stone wall. No farther!
+
+Peter realized that McGivney’s “free love” talk had been a cruel
+mistake. Little Jennie was like all the other women--her love wasn’t
+going to be “free.” Little Jennie wanted a husband, and every time
+you kissed her, she began right away to talk about marriage, and you
+dared not hint at anything else because you knew it would spoil
+everything. So Peter was thrown back upon devices older than the
+teachings of any “Reds.” He went after little Jennie, not in the way
+of “free lovers,” but in the way of a man alone in the house with a
+girl of seventeen, and wishing to seduce her. He vowed that he loved
+her with an overwhelming and eternal love. He vowed that he would
+get a job and take care of her. And then he let her discover that he
+was suffering torments; he could not live without her. He played
+upon her sympathy, he played upon her childish innocence, he played
+upon that pitiful, weak sentimentality which caused her to believe
+in pacifism and altruism and socialism and all the other “isms” that
+were jumbled up in her head.
+
+And so in a couple of weeks Peter had succeeded in his purpose of
+carrying little Jennie by storm. And then, how enraptured he was!
+Peter, with his first girl, decided that being a detective was the
+job for him! Peter knew that he was a real detective now, using the
+real inside methods, and on the trail of the real secrets of the
+Goober case!
+
+And sure enough, he began at once to get them. Jennie was in love;
+Jennie was, as you might say, “drunk with love,” and so she
+fulfilled both the conditions which Guffey had laid down. So Jennie
+told the truth! Sitting on Peter’s knee, with her arms clasped about
+him, and talking about her girlhood, the happy days before her
+mother and father had been killed in the factory where they worked,
+little Jennie mentioned the name of a young man, Ibbetts.
+
+“Ibbetts?” said Peter. It was a peculiar name, and sounded
+familiar.
+
+“A cousin of ours,” said Jennie.
+
+“Have I met him?” asked Peter, groping in his mind.
+
+“No, he hasn’t been here.”
+
+“Ibbetts?” he repeated, still groping; and suddenly he remembered.
+“Isn’t his name Jack?”
+
+Jennie did not answer for a moment. He looked at her, and their eyes
+met, and he saw that she was frightened. “Oh, Peter!” she whispered.
+“I wasn’t to tell! I wasn’t to tell a soul!”
+
+Inside Peter, something was shouting with delight. To hide his
+emotion he had to bury his face in the soft white throat.
+“Sweetheart!” he whispered. “Darling!”
+
+“Uh, Peter!” she cried. “You know--don’t you?”
+
+“Of course!” he laughed. “But I won’t tell. You needn’t mind
+trusting me.”
+
+“Oh, but Mr. Andrews was so insistent!” said Jennie, “He made Sadie
+and me swear that we wouldn’t breathe it to a soul.”
+
+“Well, you didn’t tell,” said Peter. “I found it out by accident.
+Don’t mention it, and nobody will be any the wiser. If they should
+find out that I know, they wouldn’t blame you; they’d understand
+that I know Jack Ibbetts--me being in jail so long.”
+
+So Jennie forgot all about the matter, and Peter went on with the
+kisses, making her happy, as a means of concealing his own
+exultation. He had done the job for which Guffey had sent him! He
+had solved the first great mystery of the Goober case! The spy in
+the jail of American City, who was carrying out news to the Defense
+Committee, was Jack Ibbetts, one of the keepers in the jail, and a
+cousin of the Todd sisters!
+
+
+
+
+Section 20
+
+
+It was fortunate that this was the day of Peter’s meeting with
+McGivney. He could really not have kept this wonderful secret to
+himself over night. He made excuses to the girls, and dodged thru
+the chicken-yard as before, and made his way to the American House.
+As he walked, Peter’s mind was working busily. He had really got his
+grip on the ladder of prosperity now; he must not fail to tighten
+it.
+
+McGivney saw right away from Peter’s face that something had
+happened. “Well?” he inquired.
+
+“I’ve got it!” exclaimed Peter.
+
+“Got what?”
+
+“The name of the spy in the jail.”
+
+“Christ! You don’t mean it!” cried the other.
+
+“No doubt about it,” answered Peter.
+
+“Who is he?”
+
+Peter clenched his hands and summoned his resolution. “First,” he
+said, “you and me got to have an understanding. Mr. Guffey said I
+was to be paid, but he didn’t say how much, or when.”
+
+“Oh, hell!” said McGivney. “If you’ve got the name of that spy, you
+don’t need to worry about your reward.”
+
+“Well, that’s all right,” said Peter, “but I’d like to know what I’m
+to get and how I’m to get it.”
+
+“How much do you want?” demanded the man with the face of a rat.
+Rat-like, he was retreating into a corner, his sharp black eyes
+watching his enemy. “How much?” he repeated.
+
+Peter had tried his best to rise to this occasion. Was he not
+working for the greatest and richest concern in American City, the
+Traction Trust? Tens and hundreds of millions of dollars they were
+worth--he had no idea how much, but he knew they could afford to pay
+for his secret. “I think it ought to be worth two hundred dollars,”
+ he said.
+
+“Sure,” said McGivney, “that’s all right. We’ll pay you that.”
+
+And straightway Peter’s heart sank. What a fool he had been! Why
+hadn’t he had more courage, and asked for five hundred dollars? He
+might even have asked a thousand, and made himself independent for
+life!
+
+“Well,” said McGivney, “who’s the spy?”
+
+Peter made an agonizing, effort, and summoned yet more nerve.
+“First, I got to know, when do I get that money?”
+
+“Oh, good God!” said McGivney. “You give us the information, and
+you’ll get your money all right. What kind of cheap skates do you
+take us for?”
+
+“Well, that’s all right,” said Peter. “But you know, Mr. Guffey
+didn’t give me any reason to think he loved me. I still can hardly
+use this wrist like I used to.”
+
+“Well, he was trying to get some information out of you,” said
+McGivney. “He thought you were one of them dynamiters--how could you
+blame him? You give me the name of that spy, and I’ll see you get
+your money.”
+
+But still Peter wouldn’t yield. He was afraid of the rat-faced
+McGivney, and his heart was thumping fast, but he stood his ground.
+“I think I ought to see that money,” he said, doggedly.
+
+“Say, what the hell do you take me for?” demanded the detective.
+“D’you suppose I’m going to give you two hundred dollars and then
+have you give me some fake name and skip?”
+
+“Oh, I wouldn’t do that!” cried Peter.
+
+“How do I know you wouldn’t?”
+
+“Well, I want to go on working for you.”
+
+“Sure, and we want you to go on working for us. This ain’t the last
+secret we’ll get from you, and you’ll find we play straight with our
+people--how’d we ever get anywheres otherwise? There’s a million
+dollars been put up to hang that Goober crowd, and if you deliver
+the goods, you’ll get your share, and get it right on time.”
+
+He spoke with conviction, and Peter was partly persuaded. But most
+of Peter’s lifetime had been spent in watching people bargaining
+with one another--watching scoundrels trying to outwit one
+another--and when it was a question of some money to be got, Peter
+was like a bulldog that has got his teeth fixed tight in another
+dog’s nose; he doesn’t consider the other dog’s feelings, nor does
+he consider whether the other dog admires him or not.
+
+“On time?” said Peter. “What do you mean by `on time’?”
+
+“Oh, my God!” said McGivney, in disgust.
+
+“Well, but I want to know,” said Peter. “D’you mean when I give the
+name, or d’you mean after you’ve gone and found out whether he
+really is the spy or not?”
+
+So they worried back and forth, these snarling bulldogs, growing
+more and more angry. But Peter was the one who had got his teeth in,
+and Peter hung on. Once McGivney hinted quite plainly that the great
+Traction Trust had had power enough to shut Peter in the “hole” on
+two occasions and keep him there, and it might have power enough to
+do it a third time. Peter’s heart failed with terror, but all the
+same, he hung on to McGivney’s nose.
+
+“All right,” said the rat-faced man, at last. He said it in a tone
+of wearied scorn; but that didn’t worry Peter a particle. “All
+right, I’ll take a chance with you.” And he reached into his pocket
+and pulled out a roll of bills--twenty dollar bills they were, and
+he counted out ten of them. Peter saw that there was still a lot
+left to the roll, and knew that he hadn’t asked as much money as
+McGivney had been prepared to have him ask; so his heart was sick
+within him. At the same time his heart was leaping with
+exultation--such a strange thing is the human heart!
+
+
+
+
+Section 21
+
+
+McGivney laid the money on the bed. “There it is,” he said, “and if
+you give me the name of the spy you can take it. But you’d better
+take my advice and not spend it, because if it turns out that you
+haven’t got the spy, by God, I believe Ed Guffey’d twist the arms
+out of you!”
+
+Peter was easy about that. “I know he’s the spy all right.”
+
+“Well, who is he?”
+
+“He’s Jack Ibbetts.”
+
+“The devil you say!” cried McGivney, incredulously.
+
+“Jack Ibbetts, one of the night keepers in the jail.”
+
+“I know him,” said the other. “But what put that notion into your
+head?”
+
+“He’s a cousin of the Todd sisters.”
+
+“Who are the Todd sisters?”
+
+“Jennie Todd is my girl,” said Peter.
+
+“Girl!” echoed the other; he stared at Peter, and a grin spread over
+his face. “You got a girl in two weeks? I didn’t know you had it in
+you!”
+
+It was a doubtful compliment, but Peter’s smile was no less
+expansive, and showed all his crooked teeth. “I got her all right,”
+ he said, “and she blabbed it out the first thing--that Ibbetts was
+her cousin. And then she was scared, because Andrews, the lawyer,
+had made her and her sister swear they wouldn’t mention his name to
+a soul. So you see, they’re using him for a spy--there ain’t a
+particle of doubt about it.”
+
+“Good God!” said McGivney, and there was genuine dismay in his tone.
+“Who’d think it possible? Why, Ibbetts is as decent a fellow as ever
+you talked to--and him a Red, and a traitor at that! You know,
+that’s what makes it the devil trying to handle these Reds--you
+never can tell who they’ll get; you never know who to trust. How,
+d’you suppose they manage it?”
+
+“I dunno,” said Peter. “There’s a sucker born every minute, you
+know!”
+
+“Well, anyhow, I see you ain’t one of ‘em,” said the rat-faced man,
+as he watched Peter take the roll of bills from the bed and tuck
+them away in an inside pocket.
+
+
+
+
+Section 22
+
+
+Peter was warned by the rat-faced man that he must be careful how he
+spent any of that money. Nothing would be more certain to bring
+suspicion on him than to have it whispered about that he was “in
+funds.” He must be able to show how he had come honestly by
+everything he had. And Peter agreed to that; he would hide the money
+away in a safe place until he was thru with his job.
+
+Then he in turn proceeded to warn McGivney. If they were to fire
+Ibbetts from his job, it would certainly cause talk, and might
+direct suspicion against Peter. McGivney answered with a smile that
+he wasn’t born yesterday. They would “promote” Jack Ibbetts, giving
+him some job where he couldn’t get any news about the Goober case;
+then, after a bit, they would catch him up on some mistake, or get
+him into some trouble, and fire him.
+
+At this meeting, and at later meetings, Peter and the rat-faced man
+talked out every aspect of the Goober case, which was becoming more
+and more complicated, and bigger as a public issue. New people were
+continually being involved, and new problems continually arising; it
+was more fascinating than a game of chess. McGivney had spoken the
+literal truth when he said that the big business interests of
+American City had put up a million dollars to hang Goober and his
+crowd. At the very beginning there had been offered seventeen
+thousand dollars in rewards for information, and these rewards
+naturally had many claimants. The trouble was that people who wanted
+this money generally had records that wouldn’t go well before a
+jury; the women nearly always turned out to be prostitutes, and the
+men to be ex-convicts, forgers, gamblers, or what not. Sometimes
+they didn’t tell their past records until the other side unearthed
+them, and then it was necessary to doctor court records, and pull
+wires all over the country.
+
+There were a dozen such witnesses as this in the Goober case. They
+had told their stories before the grand jury, and innumerable flaws
+and discrepancies had been discovered, which made more work and
+trouble for Guffey and his lieutenants. Thru a miserable mischance
+it happened that Jim Goober and his wife had been watching the
+parade from the roof of a building a couple of miles away, at the
+very hour when they were accused of having planted the suit-case
+with the bomb in it. Somebody had taken a photograph of the parade
+from this roof, which showed both Goober and his wife looking over,
+and also a big clock in front of a jewelry store, plainly indicating
+the very minute. Fortunately the prosecution got hold of this
+photograph first; but now the defense had learned of its existence,
+and was trying to get a look at it. The prosecution didn’t dare
+destroy it, because its existence could be proven; but they had
+photographed the photograph, and re-photographed that, until they
+had the face of the clock so dim that the time could not be seen.
+Now the defense was trying to get evidence that this trick had been
+worked.
+
+Then there were all the witnesses for the defense. Thru another
+mischance it had happened that half a dozen different people had
+seen the bomb thrown from the roof of Guggenheim’s Department Store;
+which entirely contradicted the suit-case theory upon which the
+prosecution was based. So now it was necessary to “reach” these
+various witnesses. One perhaps had a mortgage on his home which
+could be bought and foreclosed; another perhaps had a wife who
+wanted to divorce him, and could be persuaded to help get him into
+trouble. Or perhaps he was engaged in an intrigue with some other
+man’s wife; or perhaps some woman could be sent to draw him into an
+intrigue.
+
+Then again, it appeared that very soon after the explosion some of
+Guffey’s men had taken a sledge hammer and smashed the sidewalk,
+also the wall of the building where the explosion had taken place.
+This was to fit in with the theory of the suit-case bomb, and they
+had taken a number of photographs of the damage. But now it
+transpired that somebody had taken a photograph of the spot before
+this extra damage had been done, and that the defense was in
+possession of this photograph. Who had taken this photograph, and
+how could he be “fixed”? If Peter could help in such matters, he
+would come out of the Goober case a rich man.
+
+Peter would go away from these meetings with McGivney with his head
+full of visions, and would concentrate all his faculties upon the
+collecting of information. He and Jennie and Sadie talked about the
+case incessantly, and Jennie and Sadie would tell freely everything
+they had heard outside. Others would come in--young McCormick, and
+Miriam Yankovitch, and Miss Nebbins, the secretary to Andrews, and
+they would tell what they had learned and what they suspected, and
+what the defense was hoping to find out. They got hold of a cousin
+of the man who had taken the photograph on the roof; they were
+working on him, to get him to persuade the photographer to tell the
+truth. Next day Donald Gordon would come in, cast down with despair,
+because it had been learned that one of the most valuable witnesses
+of the defense, a groceryman, had once pleaded guilty to selling
+spoilt cheese! Thus every evening, before he went to sleep, Peter
+would jot down notes, and sew them up inside his jacket, and once a
+week he would go to the meeting with McGivney, and the two would
+argue and bargain over the value of Peter’s news.
+
+
+
+
+Section 23
+
+
+It had become a fascinating game, and Peter would never have tired
+of it, but for the fact that he had to stay all day in the house
+with little Jennie. A honeymoon is all right for a few weeks, but no
+man can stand it forever. Little Jennie apparently never tired of
+being kissed, and never seemed satisfied that Peter thoroughly loved
+her. A man got thru with his love-making after awhile, but a woman,
+it appeared, never knew how to drop the subject; she was always
+looking before and after, and figuring consequences and
+responsibilities, her duty and her reputation and all the rest of
+it. Which, of course, was a bore.
+
+Jennie was unhappy because she was deceiving Sadie; she wanted to
+tell Sadie, and yet somehow it was easier to go on concealing than
+admit that one had concealed. Peter didn’t see why Sadie had to be
+told at all; he didn’t see why things couldn’t stay just as they
+were, and why he and his sweetheart couldn’t have some fun now and
+then, instead of always being sentimental, always having agonies
+over the class war, to say nothing of the world war, and the
+prospects of America becoming involved in it.
+
+This did not mean that Peter was hard and feelingless. No, when
+Peter clasped trembling little Jennie in his arms he was very deeply
+moved; he had a real sense of what a gentle and good little soul she
+was. He would have been glad to help her--but what could he do about
+it? The situation was such that he could not plead with her, he
+could not try to change her; he had to give himself up to all her
+crazy whims and pretend to agree with her. Little Jennie was by her
+weakness marked for destruction, and what good would it do for him
+to go to destruction along with her?
+
+Peter understood clearly that there are two kinds of people in the
+world, those who eat, and those who are eaten; and it was his
+intention to stay among the former, group. Peter had come in his
+twenty years of life to a definite understanding of the things
+called “ideas” and “causes” and “religions.” They were bait to catch
+suckers; and there is a continual competition between the suckers,
+who of course don’t want to be caught, and those people of superior
+wits who want to catch them, and therefore are continually inventing
+new and more plausible and alluring kinds of bait. Peter had by now
+heard enough of the jargon of the “comrades” to realize that theirs
+was an especially effective kind; and here was poor little Jennie,
+stuck fast on the hook, and what could Peter do about it?
+
+Yet, this was Peter’s first love, and when he was deeply thrilled,
+he understood the truth of Guffey’s saying that a man in love wants
+to tell the truth. Peter would have the impulse to say to her: “Oh,
+drop all that preaching, and give yourself a rest! Let’s you and me
+enjoy life a bit.”
+
+Yes, it would be all he could do to keep from saying this--despite
+the fact that he knew it would ruin everything. Once little Jennie
+appeared in a new silk dress, brought to her by one of the rich
+ladies whose heart was touched by her dowdy appearance. It was of
+soft grey silk--cheap silk, but fresh and new, and Peter had never
+had anything so fine in his arms before. It matched Jennie’s grey
+eyes, and its freshness gave her a pink glow; or was it that Peter
+admired her, and loved her more, and so brought the blood to her
+cheeks? Peter had an impulse to take her out and show her off, and
+he pressed his face into the soft folds of the dress and whispered,
+“Say kid, some day you an me got to cut all this hard luck business
+for a bit!”
+
+He felt little Jennie stiffen, and draw away from him; so quickly he
+had to set to work to patch up the damage. “I want you to get well,”
+ he pleaded. “You’re so good to everybody--you treat everybody well
+but yourself!”
+
+It had been something in his tone rather than his actual words that
+had frightened the girl. “Oh Peter!” she cried. “What does it matter
+about me, or about any other one person, when millions of young men
+are being shot to fragments, and millions of women and children are
+starving to death!”
+
+So there they were, fighting the war again; Peter had to take up her
+burden, be a hero, and a martyr, and a “Red.” That same afternoon,
+as fate willed it, three “wobblies” out of a job came to call; and
+oh, how tired Peter was of these wandering agitators--insufferable
+“grouches!” Peter would want to say: “Oh, cut it out! What you call
+your `cause’ is nothing but your scheme to work with your tongues
+instead of with a pick and a shovel.” And this would start an
+imaginary quarrel in Peter’s mind. He would hear one of the fellows
+demanding, “How much pick and shovel work you ever done?” Another
+saying, “Looks to me like you been finding the easy jobs wherever
+you go!” The fact that this was true did not make Peter’s irritation
+any less, did not make it easier for him to meet with Comrade Smith,
+and Brother Jones, and Fellow-worker Brown just out of jail, and
+listen to their hard-luck stories, and watch them take from the
+table food that Peter wanted, and--the bitterest pill of all--let
+them think that they were fooling him with their patter!
+
+The time came when Peter wasn’t able to stand it any longer. Shut up
+in the house all day, he was becoming as irritable as a chained dog.
+Unless he could get out in the world again, he would surely give
+himself away. He pleaded that the doctors had warned him that his
+health would not stand indoor life; he must get some fresh air. So
+he got away by himself, and after that he found things much easier.
+He could spend a little of his money; he could find a quiet corner
+in a restaurant and get himself a beefsteak, and eat all he wanted
+of it, without feeling the eyes of any “comrades” resting upon him
+reprovingly. Peter had lived in a jail, and in an orphan asylum, and
+in the home of Shoemaker Smithers, but nowhere had he fared so
+meagerly as in the home of the Todd sisters, who were contributing
+nearly everything they owned to the Goober defense, and to the
+“Clarion,” the Socialist paper of American City.
+
+
+
+
+Section 24
+
+
+Peter went to see Andrews, the lawyer, and asked for a job; he
+wanted to be active in the case, he said, so he was set to work in
+the offices of the Defense Committee, where he heard people talking
+about the case all day, and he could pick up no end of valuable
+tips. He made himself agreeable and gained friends; before long he
+was intimate with one of the best witnesses of the defense, and
+discovered that this man had once been named as co-respondent in a
+divorce case. Peter found out the name of the woman, and Guffey set
+to work to bring her to American City. The job was to be done
+cleverly, without the woman’s even knowing that she was being used.
+She would have a little holiday, and the spell of old love would
+reassert itself, and Guffey would have a half dozen men to spring
+the trap--and there would be a star witness of the Goober defense
+clean down and out! “There’s always something you can get them on!”
+ said McGivney, and cheerfully paid Peter Gudge five hundred dollars
+for the information he had brought.
+
+Peter would have been wildly happy, but just at this moment a
+dreadful calamity befell him. Jennie had been talking about marriage
+more and more, and now she revealed to him a reason which made
+marriage imperative. She revealed it with downcast eyes, with
+blushes and trembling; and Peter was so overcome with consternation
+that he could not play the part that was expected of him. Hitherto
+in these love crises he had caught Jennie in his arms and comforted
+her; but now for a moment he let her see his real emotions.
+
+Jennie promptly had a fit. What was the matter with him? Didn’t he
+mean to marry her, as he had promised? Surely he must realize now
+that they could no longer delay! And Peter, who was not familiar
+with the symptoms of hysterics, lost his head completely and could
+think of nothing to do but rush out of the house and slam the door.
+
+The more he considered it, the more clearly he realized that he was
+in the devil of a predicament. As a servant of the Traction Trust,
+he had taken it for granted that he was immune to all legal
+penalties and obligations; but here, he had a feeling, was a trouble
+from which the powerful ones of the city would be unable to shield
+their agent. Were they able to arrange it so that one could marry a
+girl, and then get out of it when one’s job was done?
+
+Peter was so uneasy that he had to call up the office of Guffey and
+get hold of McGivney. This was dangerous, because the prosecution
+was tapping telephone wires, and they feared the defense might be
+doing the same. But Peter took a chance; he told McGivney to come
+and meet him at the usual place; and there they argued the matter
+out, and Peter’s worst fears were confirmed. When he put the
+proposition up to McGivney, the rat-faced man guffawed in his face.
+He found it so funny that he did not stop laughing until he saw that
+he was putting his spy into a rage.
+
+“What’s the joke?” demanded Peter. “If I’m ruined, where’ll you get
+any more information?”
+
+“But, my God!” said McGivney. “What did you have to go and get that
+kind of a girl for?”
+
+“I had to take what I could,” answered Peter. “Besides, they’re all
+alike--they get into trouble, and you can’t help it.”
+
+“Sure, you can help it!” said McGivney. “Why didn’t you ask long
+ago? Now if you’ve got yourself tied up with a marrying proposition,
+it’s your own lookout; you can’t put it off on me.”
+
+They argued back and forth. The rat-faced man was positive that
+there was no way Peter could pretend to marry Jennie and not have
+the marriage count. He might get himself into no end of trouble and
+certainly he would be ruined as a spy. What he must do was to pay
+the girl some money and send her somewhere to get fixed up. McGivney
+would find out the name of a doctor to do the job.
+
+“Yes, but what excuse can I give her?” cried Peter. “I mean, why I
+don’t marry her!”
+
+“Make something up,” said McGivney. “Why not have a wife already?”
+ Then, seeing Peter’s look of dismay: “Sure, you can fix that. I’ll
+get you one, if you need her. But you won’t have to take that
+trouble--just tell your girl a hard luck story. You’ve got a wife,
+you thought you could get free from her, but now you find you can’t;
+your wife’s got wind of what you’re doing here, and she’s trying to
+blackmail you. Fix it up so your girl can’t do anything on account
+of hurting the Goober defense. If she’s really sincere about it, she
+won’t disgrace you; maybe she won’t even tell her sister.”
+
+Peter hated to do anything like that. He had a vision of little
+Jennie lying on the sofa in hysterics as he had left her, and he
+dreaded the long emotional scene that would be necessary. However,
+it seemed that he must go thru with it; there was no better way that
+he could think of. Also, he must be quick, because in a couple of
+hours Sadie would be coming home from work, and it might be too
+late.
+
+
+
+
+Section 25
+
+
+Peter hurried back to the Todd home, and there was white-faced
+little Jennie lying on the bed, still sobbing. One would think she
+might have used up her surplus stock of emotions; but no, there is
+never any limit to the emotions a woman can pour out. As soon as
+Peter had got fairly started on the humiliating confession that he
+had a wife, little Jennie sprang up from the bed with a terrified
+shriek, and confronted him with a face like the ghost of an escaped
+lunatic. Peter tried to explain that it wasn’t his fault, he had
+really expected to be free any day. But Jennie only clasped her
+hands to her forehead and screamed: “You have deceived me! You have
+betrayed me!” It was just like a scene in the movies, the bored
+little devil inside Peter was whispering.
+
+He tried to take her hand and reason with her, but she sprang away
+from him, she rushed to the other side of the room and stood there,
+staring at him as if she were some wild thing that he had in a
+corner and was threatening to kill. She made so much noise that he
+was afraid that she would bring the neighbors in; he had to point
+out to her that if this matter became public he would be ruined
+forever as a witness, and thus she might be the means of sending Jim
+Goober to the gallows.
+
+Thereupon Jennie fell silent, and it was possible for Peter to get
+in a word. He told her of the intrigues against him; the other side
+had sent somebody to him and offered him ten thousand dollars if he
+would sell out the Goober defense. Now, since he had refused, they
+were trying to blackmail him, using his wife. They had somehow come
+to suspect that he was involved in a love affair, and this was to be
+the means of ruining him.
+
+Jennie still would not let Peter touch, her, but she consented to
+sit down quietly in a chair, and figure out what they were going to
+do. Whatever happened, she said, they must do no harm to the Goober
+case. Peter had done her a monstrous wrong in keeping the truth from
+her, but she would suffer the penalty, whatever it might be; she
+would never involve him.
+
+Peter started to explain; perhaps it wasn’t so serious as she
+feared. He had been thinking things over; he knew where Pericles
+Priam, his old employer, was living, and Pericles was rich now, and
+Peter felt sure that he could borrow two hundred dollars, and there
+were places where little Jennie could go--there were ways to get out
+of this trouble--
+
+But little Jennie stopped him. She was only a child in some ways,
+but in others she was a mature woman. She had strange fixed ideas,
+and when you ran into them it was like running into a stone wall.
+She would not hear of the idea Peter suggested; it would be murder.
+
+“Nonsense,” said Peter, echoing McGivney. “It’s nothing; everybody
+does it.” But Jennie was apparently not listening. She sat staring
+with her wild, terrified eyes, and pulling at her dress with her
+fingers. Peter got to watching these fingers, and they got on his
+nerves. They behaved like insane fingers; they manifested all the
+emotions which the rest of little Jennie was choking back and
+repressing.
+
+“If you would only not take it so seriously!” Peter pleaded. “It’s a
+miserable accident, but it’s happened, and now we’ve got to make the
+best of it. Some day I’ll get free; some day I’ll marry you.”
+
+“Stop, Peter!” the girl whispered, in her tense voice. “I don’t want
+to talk to you any more, if that’s all you have to say. I don’t know
+that I’d be willing to marry you--now that I know you could deceive
+me--that you could go on deceiving me day after day for months.”
+
+Peter thought she was going to break out into hysterics again, and
+he was frightened. He tried to plead with her, but suddenly she
+sprang up. “Go away!” she exclaimed. “Please go away and let me
+alone. I’ll think it over and decide what to do myself. Whatever I
+do, I won’t disgrace you, so leave me alone, go quickly!”
+
+
+
+
+Section 26
+
+
+She drove him out of the house, and Peter went, though with many
+misgivings. He wandered about the streets, not knowing what to do
+with himself, looking back over the blunders he had made and
+tormenting himself with that most tormenting of all thoughts: how
+different my life might have been, if only I had had sense enough to
+do this, or not to do that! Dinner time came, and Peter blew himself
+to a square meal, but even that did not comfort him entirely. He
+pictured Sadie coming home at this hour. Was Jennie telling her or
+not?
+
+There was a big mass meeting called by the Goober Defense Committee
+that evening, and Peter attended, and it proved to be the worst
+thing he could have done. His mind was in no condition to encounter
+the fierce passions of this crowded assemblage. Peter had the
+picture of himself being exposed and denounced; he wasn’t sure yet
+that it mightn’t happen to him. And here was this meeting--thousands
+of workingmen, horny handed blacksmiths, longshoremen with shoulders
+like barns and truckmen with fists like battering rams, long-haired
+radicals of a hundred dangerous varieties, women who waved red
+handkerchiefs and shrieked until to Peter they seemed like gorgons
+with snakes instead of hair.
+
+Such were the mob-frenzies engendered by the Goober case; and Peter
+knew, of course, that to all these people he was a traitor, a
+poisonous worm, a snake in the grass. If ever they were to find out
+what he was doing--if for instance, someone were to rise up and
+expose him to this crowd--they would seize him and tear him to
+pieces. And maybe, right now, little Jennie was telling Sadie; and
+Sadie would tell Andrews, and Andrews would become suspicious, and
+set spies on Peter Gudge! Maybe they had spies on him already, and
+knew of his meetings with McGivney!
+
+Haunted by such terrors, Peter had to listen to the tirades of
+Donald Gordon, of John Durand, and of Sorensen, the longshoremen’s
+leader. He had to listen to exposure after exposure of the tricks
+which Guffey had played; he had to hear the district attorney of the
+county denounced as a suborner of perjury, and his agents as
+blackmailers and forgers. Peter couldn’t understand why such things
+should be permitted--why these speakers were not all clapped into
+jail. But instead, he had to sit there and listen; he even had to
+applaud and pretend to approve! All the other secret operatives of
+the Traction Trust and of the district attorney’s office had to
+listen and pretend to approve! In the hall Peter had met Miriam
+Yankovich, and was sitting next to her. “Look,” she said, “there’s a
+couple of dicks over there. Look at the mugs on them!”
+
+“Which?” said Peter.
+
+And she answered: “That fellow that looks like a bruiser, and that
+one next to him, with the face of a rat.” Peter looked, and saw that
+it was McGivney; and McGivney looked at Peter, but gave no sign.
+
+The meeting lasted until nearly midnight. It subscribed several
+thousand dollars to the Goober defense fund, and adopted ferocious
+resolutions which it ordered printed and sent to every local of
+every labor union in the country. Peter got out before it was over,
+because he could no longer stand the strain of his own fears and
+anxieties. He pushed his way thru the crowd, and in the lobby he ran
+into Pat McCormick, the I. W. W. leader.
+
+There was more excitement in this boy’s grim face than Peter had
+ever seen there before. Peter thought it was the meeting, but the
+other rushed up to him, exclaiming: “Have you heard the news?”
+
+“What news?”
+
+“Little Jennie Todd has killed herself!”
+
+“My God!” gasped Peter, starting back.
+
+“Ada Ruth just told me. Sadie found a note when she got home. Jennie
+had left--she was going to drown herself.”
+
+“But what--why?” cried Peter, in horror.
+
+“She was suffering so, her health was so wretched, she begs Sadie
+not to look for her body, not to make a fuss--they’ll never find
+her.”
+
+And horrified and stunned as Peter was, there was something inside
+him that drew a deep breath of relief. Little Jennie had kept her
+promise! Peter was, safe!
+
+
+
+
+Section 27
+
+
+Yes, Peter was safe, but it had been a close call, and he still had
+painful scenes to play his part in. He had to go back to the Todd
+home and meet the frantic Sadie, and weep and be horrified with the
+rest of them. It would have been suspicious if he had not done this;
+the “comrades” would never have forgiven him. Then to his dismay, he
+found that Sadie had somehow come to a positive conviction as to
+Jennie’s trouble. She penned Peter up in a corner and accused him of
+being responsible; and there was poor Peter, protesting vehemently
+that he was innocent, and wishing that the floor would open up and
+swallow him.
+
+In the midst of his protestations a clever scheme occurred to him.
+He lowered his voice in shame. There was a man, a young man, who
+used to come to see Jennie off and on. “Jennie asked me not to
+tell.” Peter hesitated a moment, and added his master-stroke.
+“Jennie explained to me that she was a free-lover; she told me all
+about free love. I told her I didn’t believe in it, but you know,
+Sadie, when Jennie believed in anything, she would stand by it and
+act on it. So I felt certain it wouldn’t do any good for me to butt
+in.”
+
+Sadie almost went out of her mind at this. She glared at Peter.
+“Slanderer! Devil!” she cried. “Who was this man?”
+
+Peter answered, “He went by the name of Ned. That’s what Jennie
+called him. It wasn’t my business to pin her down about him.”
+
+“It wasn’t your business to look out for an innocent child?”
+
+“Jennie herself said she wasn’t an innocent child, she knew exactly
+what she was doing--all Socialists did it.” And to this parting shot
+he added that he hadn’t thought it was decent, when he was a guest
+in a home, to spy on the morals of the people in it. When Sadie
+persisted in doubting him, and even in calling him names, he took
+the easiest way out of the difficulty--fell into a rage and stormed
+out of the house.
+
+Peter felt pretty certain that Sadie would not spread the story very
+far; it was too disgraceful to her sister and to herself; and maybe
+when she had thought it over she might come to believe Peter’s
+story; maybe she herself was a “free lover.” McGivney had certainly
+said that all Socialists were, and he had been studying them a lot.
+Anyhow, Sadie would have to think first of the Goober case, just as
+little Jennie had done. Peter had them there all right, and realized
+that he could afford to be forgiving, so he went to the telephone
+and called up Sadie and said: “I want you to know that I’m not going
+to say anything about this story; it won’t become known except thru
+you.”
+
+There were half a dozen people whom Sadie must have told. Miss
+Nebbins was icy-cold to Peter the next time he came in to see Mr.
+Andrews; also Miriam Yankovich lost her former cordiality, and
+several other women treated him with studied reserve. But the only
+person who spoke about the matter was Pat McCormick, the I. W. W.
+boy who had given Peter the news of little Jennie’s suicide. Perhaps
+Peter hadn’t been able to act satisfactorily on that occasion; or
+perhaps the young fellow had observed something for himself, some
+love-glances between Peter and Jennie. Peter had never felt
+comfortable in the presence of this silent Irish boy, whose dark
+eyes would roam from one person to another in the room, and seemed
+to be probing your most secret thoughts.
+
+Now Peter’s worst fears were justified. “Mac” got him off in a
+corner, and put his fist under his nose, and told him that he was “a
+dirty hound,” and if it hadn’t been for the Goober case, he, “Mac,”
+ would kill him without a moment’s concern.
+
+And Peter did not dare open his mouth; the look on the Irishman’s
+face was so fierce that he was really afraid for his life. God, what
+a hateful lot these Reds were! And now here was Peter with the worst
+one of all against him! From now on his life would be in danger from
+this maniac Irishman! Peter hated him--so heartily and genuinely
+that it served to divert his thoughts from little Jennie, and to
+make him regard himself as a victim.
+
+Yes, in the midnight hours when Jennie’s gentle little face haunted
+him and his conscience attacked him, Peter looked back upon the
+tangled web of events, and saw quite clearly how inevitable this
+tragedy had been, how naturally it had grown out of circumstances
+beyond his control. The fearful labor struggle in American City was
+surely not Peter’s fault; nor was it his fault that he had been
+drawn into it, and forced to act first as an unwilling witness, and
+then as a secret agent. Peter read the American City “Times” every
+morning, and knew that the cause of Goober was the cause of anarchy
+and riot, while the cause of the district attorney and of Guffey’s
+secret service was the cause of law and order. Peter was doing his
+best in this great cause, he was following the instructions of those
+above him, and how could he be blamed because one poor weakling of a
+girl had got in the way of the great chariot of the law?
+
+Peter knew that it wasn’t his fault; and yet grief and terror gnawed
+at him. For one thing, he missed little Jennie, he missed her by day
+and he missed her by night. He missed her gentle voice, her fluffy
+soft hair, her body in his empty arms. She was his first love, and
+she was gone, and it is human weakness to appreciate things most
+when they have been lost.
+
+Peter aspired to be a strong man, a “he-man,” according to the slang
+that was coming into fashion; he now tried to live up to that role.
+He didn’t want to go mooning about over this accident; yet Jennie’s
+face stayed with him--sometimes wild, as he had seen it at their
+last meeting, sometimes gentle and reproachful. Peter would remember
+how good she had been, how tender, how never-failing in instant
+response to an advance of love on his part. Where would he ever find
+another girl like that?
+
+Another thing troubled him especially--a strange, inexplicable
+thing, for which Peter had no words, and about which he found
+himself frequently thinking. This weak, frail slip of a girl had
+deliberately given her life for her convictions; she had died, in
+order that he might be saved as a witness for the Goobers! Of course
+Peter had known all along that little Jennie was doomed, that she
+was throwing herself away, that nothing could save her. But somehow,
+it does frighten the strongest heart when people are so fanatical as
+to throw away their very lives for a cause. Peter found himself
+regarding the ideas of these Reds from a new angle; before this they
+had been just a bunch of “nuts,” but now they seemed to him
+creatures of monstrous deformity, products of the devil, or of a God
+gone insane.
+
+
+
+
+Section 28
+
+
+There was only one person whom Peter could take into his confidence,
+and that was McGivney. Peter could not conceal from McGivney the
+fact that he was troubled over his bereavement; and so McGivney took
+him in hand and gave him a “jacking up.” It was dangerous work, this
+of holding down the Reds; dangerous, because their doctrines were so
+insidious, they were so devilishly cunning in their working upon
+people’s minds. McGivney had seen more than one fellow start fooling
+with their ideas and turn into one himself. Peter must guard against
+that danger.
+
+“It ain’t that,” Peter explained. “It ain’t their ideas. It’s just
+that I was soft on that kid.”
+
+“Well, it comes to the same thing,” said McGivney. “You get sorry
+for them, and the first thing you know, you’re listening to their
+arguments. Now, Peter, you’re one of the best men I’ve got on this
+case--and that’s saying a good deal, because I’ve got charge of
+seventeen.” The rat-faced man was watching Peter, and saw Peter
+flush with pleasure. Yes, he continued, Peter had a future before
+him, he would make all kinds of money, he would be given
+responsibility, a permanent position. But he might throw it all away
+if he got to fooling with these Red doctrines. And also, he ought to
+understand, he could never fool McGivney; because McGivney had spies
+on him!
+
+So Peter clenched his hands and braced himself up. Peter was a real
+“he-man,” and wasn’t going to waste himself. “It’s just that I can’t
+help missing the girl!” he explained; to which the other answered:
+“Well, that’s only natural. What you want to do is to get yourself
+another one.”
+
+Peter went on with his work in the office of the Goober Defense
+Committee. The time for the trial had come, and the struggle between
+the two giants had reached its climax. The district attorney, who
+was prosecuting the case, and who was expecting to become governor
+of the state on the strength of it, had the backing of half a dozen
+of the shrewdest lawyers in the city, their expenses being paid by
+the big business men. A small army of detectives were at work, and
+the court where the trial took place was swarming with spies and
+agents. Every one of the hundreds of prospective jurors had been
+investigated and card-cataloged, his every weakness and every
+prejudice recorded; not merely had his psychology been studied, but
+his financial status, and that of his relatives and friends. Peter
+had met half a dozen other agents beside McGivney, men who had come
+to question him about this or that detail; and from the conversation
+of these men he got glimpses of the endless ramifications of the
+case. It seemed to him that the whole of American City had been
+hired to help send Jim Goober to the gallows.
+
+Peter was now getting fifty dollars a week and expenses, in addition
+to special tips for valuable bits of news. Hardly a day passed that
+he didn’t get wind of some important development, and every night he
+would have to communicate with McGivney. The prosecution had a
+secret office, where there was a telephone operator on duty, and
+couriers traveling to the district attorney’s office and to Guffey’s
+office--all this to forestall telephone tapping. Peter would go
+from the headquarters of the Goober Defense Committee to a
+telephone-booth in some hotel, and there he would give the secret
+number, and then his own number, which was six forty-two. Everybody
+concerned was known by numbers, the principal people, both of the
+prosecution and of the defense; the name “Goober” was never spoken
+over the phone.
+
+After the trial had got started it was hard to get anybody to work
+in the office of the Defense Committee--everybody wanted to be in
+court! Someone would come in every few minutes, with the latest
+reports of sensational developments. The prosecution had succeeded
+in making away with the police court records, proving the conviction
+of its star witness of having kept a brothel for negroes. The
+prosecution had introduced various articles alleged to have been
+found on the street by the police after the explosion; one was a
+spring, supposed to have been part of a bomb--but it turned out to
+be a part of a telephone! Also they had introduced parts of a
+clock--but it appeared that in their super-zeal they had introduced
+the parts of _two_ clocks! There was some excitement like this every
+day.
+
+
+
+
+Section 29
+
+
+The time came when the prosecution closed its case, and Peter was
+summoned to the office of Andrews, to be coached in his part as a
+witness. He would be wanted in two or three days, the lawyers told
+him.
+
+Now Peter had never intended to appear as a witness; he had been
+fooling the defense all this time--“stringing them along,” as he
+phrased it, so as to keep in favor with them to the end. Meantime he
+had been figuring out how to justify his final refusal. Peter was
+eating his lunch when this plan occurred to him, and he was so much
+excited that he swallowed a piece of pie the wrong way, and had to
+jump up and run out of the lunch-room. It was his first stroke of
+genius; hitherto it was McGivney who had thought these things out,
+but now Peter was on the way to becoming his own boss! Why should he
+go on taking orders, when he had such brains of his own? He took the
+plan to McGivney, and McGivney called it a “peach,” and Peter was so
+proud he asked for a raise, and got it.
+
+This plan had the double advantage that not merely would it save
+Peter’s prestige and reputation, among the Reds, it would ruin
+McCormick, who was one of the hardest workers for the defense, and
+one of the most dangerous Reds in American City, as well as being a
+personal enemy of Peter’s. McGivney pulled some of his secret wires,
+and the American City “Times,” in the course of its accounts of the
+case, mentioned a rumor that the defense proposed to put on the
+stand a man who claimed to have been tortured in the city jail, in
+an effort to make him give false testimony against Goober; the
+prosecution had investigated this man’s record and discovered that
+only recently he had seduced a young girl, and she had killed
+herself because of his refusal to marry her. Peter took this copy of
+the American City “Times” to the office of David Andrews, and
+insisted upon seeing the lawyer before he went to court; he laid the
+item on the desk, and declared that there was his finish as a
+witness in the Goober case. “It’s a cowardly, dirty lie!” he
+declared. “And the man responsible for circulating it is Pat
+McCormick.”
+
+Such are the burdens that fall upon the shoulders of lawyers in
+hard-fought criminal trials! Poor Andrews did his best to patch
+things up; he pleaded with Peter--if the story was false, Peter
+ought to be glad of a chance to answer his slanderers. The defense
+would put witnesses on the stand to deny it. They would produce
+Sadie Todd to deny it.
+
+“But Sadie told me she suspected me!”
+
+“Yes,” said Andrews, “but she told me recently she wasn’t sure.”
+
+“Much good that’ll do me!” retorted Peter. “They’ll ask me if
+anybody ever accused me, and who, and I’ll have to say McCormick,
+and if they put him on the stand, will he deny that he accused me?”
+
+Peter flew into a rage against McCormick; a fine sort of radical he
+was, pretending to be devoted to the cause, and having no better
+sense than to repeat a cruel slander against a comrade! Here Peter
+had been working on this case for nearly six months, working for
+barely enough to keep body and soul together, and now they expected
+him to go on the and have a story like that brought out in the
+papers, and have the prosecution hiring witnesses to prove him a
+villain. “No, sir!” said Peter. “I’m thru with this case right now.
+You put McCormick on the witness stand and let him save Goober’s
+life. You can’t use me, I’m out!” And shutting his ears to the
+lawyer’s pleading, he stormed out of the office, and over to the
+office of the Goober Defense Committee, where he repeated the same
+scene.
+
+
+
+
+Section 30
+
+
+Thus Peter was done with the Goober case, and mighty glad of it he
+was. He was tired of the strain, he needed a rest and a little
+pleasure. He had his pockets stuffed with money, and a good fat bank
+account, and proposed to take things easy for the first time in his
+hard and lonely life.
+
+The opportunity was at hand: for he had taken McGivney’s advise and
+got himself another girl. It was a little romance, very worldly and
+delightful. To understand it, you must know that in the judicial
+procedure of American City they used both men and women jurors; and
+because busy men of affairs did not want to waste their time in the
+jury-box, nor to have the time of their clerks and workingmen
+wasted, there had gradually grown up a class of men and women who
+made their living by working as jurors. They hung around the
+courthouse and were summoned on panel after panel, being paid six
+dollars a day, with numerous opportunities to make money on the side
+if they were clever.
+
+Among this group of professional jurors, there was the keenest
+competition to get into the jury-box of the Goober case. It was to
+be a long and hard-fought case, there would be a good deal of
+prestige attached to it, and also there were numerous sums of money
+floating round. Anybody who got in, and who voted right, might be
+sure of an income for life, to say nothing of a life-job as a juror
+if he wanted it.
+
+Peter happened to be in court while the talesmen were being
+questioned. A very charming and petite brunette--what Peter
+described as a “swell dresser”--was on the stand, and was cleverly
+trying to satisfy both sides. She knew nothing about the case, she
+had never read anything about it, she knew nothing and cared nothing
+about social problems; so she was accepted by the prosecution. But
+then the defense took her in hand, and it appeared that once upon a
+time she had been so indiscreet as to declare to somebody her
+conviction that all labor leaders ought to be stood up against the
+wall and filled with lead; so she was challenged by the defense, and
+very much chagrined she came down from the stand, and took a seat in
+the courtroom next to Peter. He saw a trace of tears in her eyes,
+and realizing her disappointment, ventured a word of sympathy. The
+acquaintance grew, and they went out to lunch together.
+
+Mrs. James was her name, and she was a widow, a grass widow as she
+archly mentioned. She was quick and lively, with brilliant white
+teeth, and cheeks with the glow of health in them; this glow came
+out of a little bottle, but Peter never guessed it. Peter had got
+himself a good suit of clothes now, and made bold to spend some
+money on the lunch. As it happened, both he and Mrs. James were thru
+with the Goober case; both were tired and wanted a change, and
+Peter, blushing shyly, suggested that a sojourn at the beach might
+be fun. Mrs. James agreed immediately, and the matter was arranged.
+
+Peter had seen enough of the detective business by this time to know
+what you can safely do, and what you had better not do. He didn’t
+travel with his grass widow, he didn’t pay her car-fare, nor do
+anything else to constitute her a “white slave.” He simply went to
+the beach and engaged himself a comfortable apartment; and next day,
+strolling on the board walk, he happened to meet the widow.
+
+So for a couple of months Peter and Mrs. James set up housekeeping
+together. It was a wonderful experience for the former, because Mrs.
+James was what is called a “lady,” she had rich relatives, and took
+pains to let Peter know that she had lived in luxury before her
+husband had run away to Paris with a tight-rope walker. She taught
+Peter all those worldly arts which one misses when one is brought up
+in an orphan asylum, and on the road with a patent medicine vender.
+Tactfully, and without hurting his feelings, she taught him how to
+hold a knife and fork, and what color tie to select. At the same
+time she managed to conduct a propaganda which caused him to regard
+himself as the most favored of mankind; he was overwhelmed with
+gratitude for every single kiss from the lips of his grass widow. Of
+course he could not expect such extraordinary favors of fortune
+without paying for them; he had learned by now that there was no
+such thing as “free love.” So he paid, hand over fist; he not only
+paid all the expenses of the unregistered honeymoon, he bought
+numerous expensive presents at the lady’s tactful suggestion. She
+was always so vivacious and affectionate when Peter had given her a
+present! Peter lived in a kind of dream, his money seemed to go out
+of his pockets without his having to touch it.
+
+Meantime great events were rolling by, unheeded by Peter and his
+grass widow who never read the newspapers. For one thing Jim Goober
+was convicted and sentenced to die on the gallows, and Jim Goober’s
+associate, Biddle, was found guilty, and sentenced to prison for
+life. Also, America entered the war, and a wave of patriotic
+excitement swept like a prairie fire over the country. Peter could
+not help hearing about this; his attention was attracted to one
+aspect of the matter--Congress was about to pass a conscription act.
+And Peter was within the age limit; Peter would almost certainly be
+drafted into the army!
+
+No terror that he had ever felt in his life was equal to this
+terror. He had tried to forget the horrible pictures of battle and
+slaughter, of machine-guns and hand-grenades and torpedoes and
+poison gas, with which little Jennie had filled his imagination; but
+now these imaginings came crowding back upon him, now for the first
+time they concerned him. From that time on his honeymoon was
+spoiled. Peter and his grass widow were like a party of picnickers
+who are far away in the wilderness, and see a black thunder-storm
+come rolling up the sky!
+
+Also, Peter’s bank account was running low. Peter had had no
+conception how much money you could spend on a grass widow who is a
+“swell dresser” and understands what is “proper.” He was overwhelmed
+with embarrassment; he put off telling Mrs. James until the last
+moment--in fact, until he wasn’t quite sure whether he had enough
+money in bank to meet the last check he had given to the landlady.
+Then, realizing that the game was up, he told.
+
+He was surprised to see how charmingly a grass widow of “good
+breeding” could take bad tidings. Evidently it wasn’t the first time
+that Mrs. James had been to the beach. She smiled cheerfully, and
+said that it was the jury-box for her once more. She gave Peter her
+card, and told him she would be glad to have him call upon her
+again--when he had restored his fortunes. She packed up her
+suit-case and her new trunk full of Peter’s presents, and departed
+with the most perfect sweetness and good taste.
+
+
+
+
+Section 31
+
+
+So there was Peter, down and out once more. But fate was kind to
+him. That very day came a letter signed “Two forty-three,” which
+meant McGivney. “Two forty-three” had some important work for Peter,
+so would he please call at once? Peter pawned his last bit of
+jewelry for his fare to American City, and met McGivney at the usual
+rendezvous.
+
+
+The purpose of the meeting was quickly explained. America was now at
+war, and the time had come when the mouths of these Reds were to be
+stopped for good. You could do things in war-time that you couldn’t
+do in peace-time, and one of the things you were going to do was to
+put an end to the agitation against property. Peter licked his lips,
+metaphorically speaking. It was something he had many times told
+McGivney ought to be done. Pat McCormick especially ought to be put
+away for good. These were a dangerous bunch, these Reds, and Mac was
+the worst of all. It was every man’s duty to help, and what could
+Peter do?
+
+McGivney answered that the authorities were making a complete list
+of all the radical organizations and their members, getting evidence
+preliminary to arrests. Guffey was in charge of the job; as in the
+Goober case, the big business interests of the city were going ahead
+while the government was still wiping the sleep out of its eyes.
+Would Peter take a job spying upon the Reds in American City?
+
+“I can’t!” exclaimed Peter. “They’re all sore at me because I didn’t
+testify in the Goober case.”
+
+“We can easily fix that up,” answered the rat-faced man. “It may
+mean a little inconvenience for you. You may have to go to jail for
+a few days.”
+
+“To jail!” cried Peter, in dismay.
+
+“Yes,” said the other, “you’ll have to get arrested, and made into a
+martyr. Then, you see, they’ll all be sure you’re straight, and
+they’ll take you back again and welcome you.”
+
+Peter didn’t like the idea of going to jail; his memories of the
+jail in American City were especially painful. But McGivney
+explained that this was a time when men couldn’t consider their own
+feelings; the country was in danger, public safety must be
+protected, and it was up to everybody to make some patriotic
+sacrifice. The rich men were all subscribing to liberty bonds; the
+poor men were going to give their lives; and what was Peter Gudge
+going to give? “Maybe I’ll be drafted into the army,” Peter
+remarked.
+
+“No, you won’t--not if you take this job,” said McGivney. “We can
+fix that. A man like you, who has special abilities, is too precious
+to be wasted.” Peter decided forthwith that he would accept the
+proposition. It was much more sensible to spend a few days in jail
+than to spend a few years in the trenches, and maybe the balance of
+eternity under the sod of France.
+
+Matters were quickly arranged. Peter took off his good clothes, and
+dressed himself as became a workingman, and went into the
+eating-room where Donald Gordon, the Quaker boy, always got his
+lunch. Peter was quite sure that Donald would be one of the leading
+agitators against the draft, and in this he was not mistaken.
+
+Donald was decidedly uncordial in his welcoming of Peter; without
+saying a word the young Quaker made Peter aware that he was a
+renegade, a coward who had “thrown down” the Goober defense. But
+Peter was patient and tactful; he did not try to defend himself, nor
+did he ask any questions about Donald and Donald’s activities. He
+simply announced that he had been studying the subject of
+militarism, and had come to a definite point of view. He was a
+Socialist and an Internationalist; he considered America’s entry
+into the war a crime, and he was willing to do his part in agitating
+against it. He was going to take his stand as a conscientious
+objector; they might send him to jail if they pleased, or even stand
+him against a wall and shoot him, but they would never get him to
+put on a uniform.
+
+It was impossible for Donald Gordon to hold out against a man who
+talked like that; a man who looked him in the eye and expressed his
+convictions so simply and honestly. And that evening Peter went to a
+meeting of Local American City of the Socialist Party, and renewed
+his acquaintance with all the comrades. He didn’t make a speech or
+do anything conspicuous, but simply got into the spirit of things;
+and next day he managed to meet some of the members, and whenever
+and wherever he was asked, he expressed his convictions as a
+conscientious objector. So before a week had passed Peter found that
+he was being tolerated, that nobody was going to denounce him as a
+traitor, or kick him out of the room.
+
+At the next weekly meeting of Local American City, Peter ventured to
+say a few words. It was a red-hot meeting, at which the war and the
+draft were the sole subjects of discussion. There were some Germans
+in the local, some Irishmen, and one or two Hindoos; they,
+naturally, were all ardent pacifists. Also there were agitators of
+what was coming to be called the “left wing”; the group within the
+party who considered it too conservative, and were always clamoring
+for more radical declarations, for “mass action” and general strikes
+and appeals to the proletariat to rise forthwith and break their
+chains. These were days of great events; the Russian revolution had
+electrified the world, and these comrades of the “left wing” felt
+themselves lifted upon pinions of hope.
+
+Peter spoke as one who had been out on the road, meeting the rank
+and file; he could speak for the men on the job. What was the use of
+opposing the draft here in a hall, where nobody but party members
+were present? What was wanted was for them to lift up their voices
+on the street, to awaken the people before it was too late! Was
+there anybody in this gathering bold enough to organize a street
+meeting?
+
+There were some who could not resist this challenge, and in a few
+minutes Peter had secured the pledges of half a dozen young
+hot-heads, Donald Gordon among them. Before the evening was past it
+had been arranged that these would-be-martyrs should hire a truck,
+and make their debut on Main Street the very next evening. Old hands
+in the movement warned them that they would only get their heads
+cracked by the police. But the answer to that was obvious--they
+might as well get their heads cracked by the police as get them
+blown to pieces by German artillery.
+
+
+
+
+Section 32
+
+
+Peter reported to McGivney what was planned, and McGivney promised
+that the police would be on hand. Peter warned him to be careful and
+have the police be gentle; at which McGivney grinned, and answered
+that he would see to that.
+
+It was all very simple, and took less than ten minutes of time. The
+truck drew up on Main Street, and a young orator stepped forward and
+announced to his fellow citizens that the time had come for the
+workers to make known their true feelings about the draft. Never
+would free Americans permit themselves to be herded into armies and
+shipped over seas and be slaughtered for the benefit of
+international bankers. Thus far the orator had got, when a policeman
+stepped forward and ordered him to shut up. When he refused, the
+policeman tapped on the sidewalk with his stick, and a squad of
+eight or ten came round the corner, and the orator was informed that
+he was under arrest. Another orator stepped forward and took up the
+harangue, and when he also had been put under arrest, another, and
+another, until the whole six of them, including Peter, were in hand.
+
+The crowd had had no time to work up any interest one way or the
+other, A patrol-wagon was waiting, and the orators were bundled in
+and driven to the station-house, and next morning they were haled
+before a magistrate and sentenced each to fifteen days. As they had
+been expecting to get six months, they were a happy bunch of “left
+wingers.”
+
+And they were still happier when they saw how they were to be
+treated in jail. Ordinarily it was the custom of the police to
+inflict all possible pain and humiliation upon the Reds. They would
+put them in the revolving tank, a huge steel structure of many cells
+which was turned round and round by a crank. In order to get into
+any cell, the whole tank had to be turned until that particular cell
+was opposite the entrance, which meant that everybody in the tank
+got a free ride, accompanied by endless groaning and scraping of
+rusty machinery; also it meant that nobody got any consecutive
+sleep. The tank was dark, too dark to read, even if they had had
+books or papers. There was nothing to do save to smoke cigarettes
+and shoot craps, and listen to the smutty stories of the criminals,
+and plot revenge against society when they got out again. But up in
+the new wing of the jail were some cells which were clean and bright
+and airy, being only three or four feet from a row of windows. In
+these cells they generally put the higher class of criminals--women
+who had cut the throats of their sweethearts, and burglars who had
+got I away with the swag, and bankers who had plundered whole
+communities. But now, to the great surprise of five out of the six
+anti-militarists, the entire party was put in one of these big
+cells, and allowed the privilege of having reading matter and of
+paying for their own food. Under these circumstances martyrdom
+became a joke, and the little party settled down to enjoy life. It
+never once occurred to them to think of Peter Gudge as the source of
+this bounty. They attributed it, as the French say, “to their
+beautiful eyes.”
+
+There was Donald Gordon, who was the son of a well-to-do business
+man, and had been to college, until he was expelled for taking the
+doctrines of Christianity too literally and expounding them too
+persistently on the college campus. There was a big, brawny
+lumber-jack from the North, Jim Henderson by name, who had been
+driven out of the camps for the same reason, and had appalling
+stories to tell of the cruelties and hardships of the life of a
+logger. There was a Swedish sailor by the name of Gus, who had
+visited every port in the world, and a young Jewish cigar-worker who
+had never been outside of American City, but had travelled even more
+widely in his mind.
+
+The sixth man was the strangest character of all to Peter; a shy,
+dreamy fellow with eyes so full of pain and a face so altogether
+mournful that it hurt to look at him. Duggan was his name, and he
+was known in the movement as the “hobo poet.” He wrote verses,
+endless verses about the lives of society’s outcasts; he would get
+himself a pencil and paper and sit off in the corner of the cell by
+the hour, and the rest of the fellows, respecting his work, would
+talk in whispers so as not to disturb him. He wrote all the time
+while the others slept, it seemed to Peter. He wrote verses about
+the adventures of his fellow-prisoners, and presently he was writing
+verses about the jailers, and about other prisoners in this part of
+the jail. He would have moods of inspiration, and would make up
+topical verses as he went along; then again he would sink back into
+his despair, and say that life was hell, and making rhymes about it
+was childishness.
+
+There was no part of America that Tom Duggan hadn’t visited, no
+tragedy of the life of outcasts that he hadn’t seen. He was so
+saturated with it that he couldn’t think of anything else. He would
+tell about men who had perished of thirst in the desert, about
+miners sealed up for weeks in an exploded mine, about matchmakers
+poisoned until their teeth fell out, and their finger nails and even
+their eyes. Peter could see no excuse for such morbidness, such
+endless harping upon the horrible things of life. It spoiled all his
+happiness in the jail--it was worse than little Jennie’s talking
+about the war!
+
+
+
+
+Section 33
+
+
+One of Duggan’s poems had to do with a poor devil named Slim, who
+was a “snow-eater,” that is to say, a cocaine victim. This Slim
+wandered about the streets of New York in the winter-time without
+any shelter, and would get into an office building late in the
+afternoon, and hide in one of the lavatories to spend the night. If
+he lay down, he would be seen and thrown out, so his only chance was
+to sit up; but when he fell asleep, he would fall off the
+seat--therefore he carried a rope in his pocket, and would tie
+himself in a sitting position.
+
+Now what was the use of a story like that? Peter didn’t want to hear
+about such people! He wanted to express his disgust; but he knew, of
+course, that he must hide it. He laughed as he exclaimed, “Christ
+Almighty, Duggan, can’t you give us something with a smile? You
+don’t think it’s the job of Socialists to find a cure for the dope
+habit, do you? That’s sure one thing that ain’t caused by the profit
+system.”
+
+Duggan smiled his bitterest smile. “If there’s any misery in the
+world today that ain’t kept alive by the profit system, I’d like to
+see it! D’you think dope sells itself? If there wasn’t a profit in
+it, would it be sold to any one but doctors? Where’d you get your
+Socialism, anyhow?”
+
+So Peter beat a hasty retreat. “Oh, sure, I know all that. But here
+you’re shut up in jail because you want to change things. Ain’t you
+got a right to give yourself a rest while you’re in?”
+
+The poet looked at him, as solemn as an owl. He shook his head.
+“No,” he said. “Just because we’re fixed up nice and comfortable in
+jail, have we got the right to forget the misery of those outside?”
+
+The others laughed; but Duggan did not mean to be funny at all. He
+rose slowly to his feet and with his arms outstretched, in the
+manner of one offering himself as a sacrifice, he proclaimed:
+
+“While there is a lower class, I am in it.
+
+“While there is a criminal element, I am of it.
+
+“While there is a soul in jail, I am not free.”
+
+Then he sat down and buried his face in his hands. The group of
+rough fellows sat in solemn silence. Presently Gus, the Swedish
+sailor, feeling perhaps that the rebuke to Peter had been too
+severe, spoke timidly: “Comrade Gudge, he ban in jail twice
+already.”
+
+So the poet looked up again. He held out his hand to Peter. “Sure, I
+know that!” he said, clasping Peter in the grip of comradeship. And
+then he added: “I’ll tell you a story with a smile!”
+
+Once upon a time, it appeared, Duggan had been working in a moving
+picture studio, where they needed tramps and outcasts and all sorts
+of people for crowds. They had been making a “Preparedness” picture,
+and wanted to show the agitators and trouble-makers, mobbing the
+palace of a banker. They got two hundred bums and hoboes, and took
+them in trucks to the palace of a real banker, and on the front lawn
+the director made a speech to the crowd, explaining his ideas.
+“Now,” said he, “remember, the guy that owns this house is the guy
+that’s got all the wealth that you fellows have produced. You are
+down and out, and you know that he’s robbed you, so you hate him.
+You gather on his lawn and you’re going to mob his home; if you can
+get hold of him, you’re going to tear him to bits for what he’s done
+to you.” So the director went on, until finally Duggan interrupted:
+“Say, boss, you don’t have to teach us. This is a real palace, and
+we’re real bums!”
+
+Apparently the others saw the “smile” in this story, for they
+chuckled for some time over it. But it only added to Peter’s hatred
+of these Reds; it made him realize more than ever that they were a
+bunch of “sore heads,” they were green and yellow with jealousy.
+Everybody that had succeeded in the world they hated--just because
+they had succeeded! Well, _they_ would never succeed; they could go
+on forever with their grouching, but the mass of the workers in
+America had a normal attitude toward the big man, who could do
+things. They did not want to wreck his palace; they admired him for
+having it, and they followed his leadership gladly.
+
+It seemed as if Henderson, the lumber-jack, had read Peter’s
+thought. “My God!” he said. “What a job it is to make the workers
+class-conscious!” He sat on the edge of his cot, with his broad
+shoulders bowed and his heavy brows knit in thought over the problem
+of how to increase the world’s discontent. He told of one camp where
+he had worked--so hard and dangerous was the toil that seven men had
+given up their lives in the course of one winter. The man who owned
+this tract, and was exploiting it, had gotten the land by the
+rankest kind of public frauds; there were filthy bunk-houses,
+vermin, rotten food, poor wages and incessant abuse. And yet, in the
+spring-time, here came the young son of this owner, on a honeymoon
+trip with his bride. “And Jesus,” said Henderson, “if you could have
+seen those stiffs turn out and cheer to split their throats! They
+really meant it, you know; they just loved that pair of idle,
+good-for-nothing kids!”
+
+Gus, the sailor, spoke up, his broad, good-natured face wearing a
+grin which showed where three of his front teeth had been knocked
+out with a belaying pin. It was exactly the same with the seamen, he
+declared. They never saw the ship-owners, they didn’t know even the
+names of the people who were getting the profit of their toil, but
+they had a crazy loyalty to their ship, Some old tanker would be
+sent out to sea on purpose to be sunk, so that the owners might get
+the insurance. But the poor A. Bs. would love that old tub so that
+they would go down to the bottom with her--or perhaps they would
+save her, to the owners great disgust!
+
+Thus, for hours on end, Peter had to sit listening to this ding
+donging about the wrongs of the poor and the crimes of the rich.
+Here he had been sentenced for fifteen days and nights to listen to
+Socialist wrangles! Every one of these fellows had a different idea
+of how he wanted the world to be run, and every one had a different
+idea of how to bring about the change. Life was an endless struggle
+between the haves and the have-nots, and the question of how the
+have-nots were to turn out the haves was called “tactics.” When you
+talked about “tactics” you used long technical terms which made your
+conversation unintelligible to a plain, ordinary mortal. It seemed
+to Peter that every time he fell asleep it was to the music of
+proletariat and surplus value and unearned increment, possibilism
+and impossibilism, political action, direct action, mass action, and
+the perpetual circle of Syndicalist-Anarchist, Anarchist-Communist,
+Communist-Socialist and Socialist-Syndicalist.
+
+
+
+
+Section 34
+
+
+In company such as this Peter’s education for the role of detective
+was completed by force, as it were. He listened to everything, and
+while he did not dare make any notes, he stored away treasures in
+his mind, and when he came out of the jail he was able to give
+McGivney a pretty complete picture of the various radical
+organizations in American City, and the attitude of each one toward
+the war.
+
+Peter found that McGivney’s device had worked perfectly. Peter was
+now a martyr and a hero; his position as one of the “left wingers”
+ was definitely established, and anyone who ventured to say a word
+against him would be indignantly rebuked. As a matter of fact, no
+one desired to say much. Pat McCormick, Peter’s enemy, was out on an
+organizing trip among the oil workers.
+
+Duggan had apparently taken a fancy to Peter, and took him to meet
+some of his friends, who lived in an old, deserted warehouse, which
+happened to have skylights in the roof; this constituted each room a
+“studio,” and various radicals rented the rooms, and lived here a
+sort of picnic existence which Peter learned was called “Bohemian.”
+ They were young people, most of them, with one or two old fellows,
+derelicts; they wore flannel shirts, and soft ties, or no ties at
+all, and their fingers were always smeared with paint. Their life
+requirements were simple; all they wanted was an unlimited quantity
+of canvas and paint, some cigarettes, and at long intervals a pickle
+or some sauer-kraut and a bottle of beer. They would sit all day in
+front of an easel, painting the most inconceivable pictures--pink
+skies and green-faced women and purple grass and fantastic splurges
+of color which they would call anything from “The Woman with a
+Mustard Pot” to “A Nude Coming Downstairs.” And there would be
+others, like Duggan, writing verses all day; pounding away on a
+typewriter, if they could manage to rent or borrow one. There were
+several who sang, and one who played the flute and caused all the
+others to tear their hair. There was a boy fresh from the country,
+who declared that he had run away from home because the family sang
+hymns all day Sunday, and never sang in tune.
+
+From people such as these you would hear the most revolutionary
+utterances; but Peter soon realized that it was mostly just talk
+with them. They would work off their frenzies with a few dashes of
+paint or some ferocious chords on the piano. The really dangerous
+ones were not here; they were hidden away in offices or dens of
+their own, where they were prompting strikes and labor agitations,
+and preparing incendiary literature to be circulated among the poor.
+
+You met such people in the Socialist local, and in the I. W. W.
+headquarters, and in numerous clubs and propaganda societies which
+Peter investigated, and to which he was welcomed as a member. In the
+Socialist local there was a fierce struggle going on over the war.
+What should be the attitude of the party? There was a group, a
+comparatively small group, which believed that the interests of
+Socialism would best be served by helping the Allies to the
+overthrow of the Kaiser. There was another group, larger and still
+more determined, which believed that the war was a conspiracy of
+allied capitalism to rivet its power upon the world, and this group
+wanted the party to stake its existence upon a struggle against
+American participation. These two groups contested for the minds of
+the rank and file of the members, who seemed to be bewildered by the
+magnitude of the issue and the complexity of the arguments. Peter’s
+orders were to go with the extreme anti-militarists; they were the
+ones whose confidence he wished to gain, also they were the
+trouble-makers of the movement, and McGivney’s instructions were to
+make all the trouble possible.
+
+Over at the I. W. W. headquarters was another group whose members
+were debating their attitude to the war. Should they call strikes
+and try to cripple the leading industries of the country? Or should
+they go quietly on with their organization work, certain that in the
+end the workers would sicken of the military adventure into which
+they were being snared? Some of these “wobblies” were Socialist
+party members also, and were active in both gatherings; two of them,
+Henderson, the lumber-jack, and Gus Lindstrom, the sailor, had been
+in jail with Peter, and had been among his intimates ever since.
+
+Also Peter met the Pacifists; the “Peoples’ Council,” as they called
+themselves. Many of these were religious people, two or three
+clergymen, and Donald Gordon, the Quaker, and a varied assortment of
+women--sentimental young girls who shrunk from the thought of
+bloodshed, and mothers with tear-stained cheeks who did not want
+their darlings to be drafted. Peter saw right away that these
+mothers had no “conscientious objections.” Each mother was thinking
+about her own son and about nothing else. Peter was irritated at
+this, and took it for his special job to see that those mother’s
+darlings did their duty.
+
+He attended a gathering of Pacifists in the home of a
+school-teacher. They made heart-breaking speeches, and finally
+little Ada Ruth, the poetess, got up and wanted to know, was it all
+to end in talk, or would they organize and prepare to take some
+action against the draft? Would they not at least go out on the
+street, get up a parade with banners of protest, and go to jail as
+Comrade Peter Gudge had so nobly done?
+
+Comrade Peter was called on for “a few words.” Comrade Peter
+explained that he was no speaker; after all, actions spoke louder
+than words, and he had tried to show what he believed. The others
+were made ashamed by this, and decided for a bold stand at once. Ada
+Ruth became president and Donald Gordon secretary of the
+“Anti-conscription League”--a list of whose charter members was
+turned over to McGivney the same evening.
+
+
+
+
+Section 35
+
+
+All this time the country had been going to war. The huge military
+machine was getting under way, the storm of public feeling was
+rising. Congress had voted a huge loan, a country-wide machine of
+propaganda was being organized, and the oratory of Four Minute Men
+was echoing from Maine to California. Peter read the American City
+“Times” every morning, and here were speeches of statesmen and
+sermons of clergymen, here were cartoons and editorials, all burning
+with the fervor’s of patriotism. Peter absorbed these, and his soul
+became transfigured. Hitherto Peter had been living for himself; but
+there comes a time in the life of every man who can use his brain at
+all when he realizes that he is not the one thing of importance in
+the universe, the one end to be served. Peter very often suffered
+from qualms of conscience, waves of doubt as to his own
+righteousness. Peter, like every other soul that ever lived, needed
+a religion, an ideal.
+
+The Reds had a religion, as you might call it; but this religion had
+failed to attract Peter. In the first place it was low; its devotees
+were wholly lacking in the graces of life, in prestige, and that
+ease which comes with assurance of power. They were noisy in their
+fervors, and repelled Peter as much as the Holy Rollers. Also, they
+were always harping upon the sordid and painful facts of life; who
+but a pervert would listen to “sob stories,” when he might have all
+the things that are glorious and shining and splendid in the world?
+
+But now here was the religion Peter wanted. These clergymen in their
+robes of snow white linen, preaching in churches with golden altars
+and stained-glass windows; these statesmen who wore the halo of
+fame, and went about with the cheering of thousands in their ears;
+these mighty captains of industry whose very names were magic--with
+power, when written on pieces of paper, to cause cities to rise in
+the desert, and then to fall again beneath a rain of shells and
+poison gas; these editors and cartoonists of the American City
+“Times,” with all their wit and learning--these people all combined
+to construct for Peter a religion and an ideal, and to hand it out
+to him, ready-made and precisely fitted to his understanding. Peter
+would go right on doing the things he had been doing before; but he
+would no longer do them in the name of Peter Gudge, the ant, he
+would do them in the name of a mighty nation of a hundred and ten
+million people, with all its priceless memories of the past and its
+infinite hopes for the future; he would do them in the sacred name
+of patriotism, and the still more sacred name of democracy.
+And--most convenient of circumstances--the big business men of
+American City, who had established a secret service bureau with
+Guffey in charge of it, would go right on putting up their funds,
+and paying Peter fifty dollars a week and expenses while he served
+the holy cause!
+
+It was the fashion these days for orators and public men to vie with
+one another in expressing the extremes of patriotism, and Peter
+would read these phrases, and cherish them; they came to seem a part
+of him, he felt as if he had invented them. He became greedy for
+more and yet more of this soul-food; and there was always more to be
+had--until Peter’s soul was become swollen, puffed up as with a
+bellows. Peter became a patriot of patriots, a super-patriot; Peter
+was a red-blooded American and no mollycoddle; Peter was a
+“he-American,” a 100% American--and if there could have been such a
+thing as a 101% American, Peter would have been that. Peter was so
+much of an American that the very sight of a foreigner filled him
+with a fighting impulse. As for the Reds--well, Peter groped for
+quite a time before he finally came upon a formula which expressed
+his feelings. It was a famous clergyman who achieved it for
+him--saying that if he could have his way he would take all the
+Reds, and put them in a ship of stone with sails of lead, and send
+them forth with hell for their destination.
+
+So Peter chafed more and more at his inability to get action. How
+much more evidence did the secret service of the Traction Trust
+require? Peter would ask this question of McGivney again and again,
+and McGivney would answer: “Keep your shirt on. You’re getting your
+pay every week. What’s the matter with you?”
+
+“The matter is, I’m tired of listening to these fellows ranting,”
+ Peter would say. “I want to stop their mouths.”
+
+Yes, Peter had come to take it as a personal affront that these
+radicals should go on denouncing the cause which Peter had espoused.
+They all thought of Peter as a comrade, they were most friendly to
+him; but Peter had the knowledge of how they would regard him when
+they knew the real truth, and this imagined contempt burned him like
+an acid. Sometimes there would be talk about spies and informers,
+and then these people would exhaust their vocabulary of abuse, and
+Peter, of course, would apply every word of it to himself and become
+wild with anger. He would long to answer back; he was waiting for
+the day when he might vindicate himself and his cause by smashing
+these Reds in the mouth.
+
+
+
+
+Section 36
+
+
+“Well,” said McGivney one day, “I’ve got something interesting for
+you now. You’re going into high society for a while!”
+
+And the rat-faced man explained that there was a young man in a
+neighboring city, reputed to be a multi-millionaire, who had written
+a book against the war, and was the financial source of much
+pacificism and sedition. “These people are spending lots of money
+for printing,” said McGivney, “and we hear this fellow Lackman is
+putting it up. We’ve learned that he is to be in town tomorrow, and
+we want you to find out all about his affairs.”
+
+So Peter was to meet a millionaire! Peter had never known one of
+these fortunate beings, but he was for them--he had always been for
+them. Ever since he had learned to read, he had liked to find
+stories about them in the newspapers, with pictures of them and
+their palaces. He had read these stories as a child reads fairy
+tales. They were his creatures of dreams, belonging to a world above
+reality, above pain and inconvenience.
+
+And then in the days when Peter had been a servant in the Temple of
+Jimjambo, devoted to the cult of Eleutherinian Exoticism, he had
+found hanging in the main assembly room a picture labelled, “Mount
+Olympus,” showing a dozen gods and goddesses reclining at ease on
+silken couches, sipping nectar from golden goblets and gazing down
+upon the far-off troubles of the world. Peter would peer from behind
+the curtains and see the Chief Magistrian emerging from behind the
+seven mystic veils, lifting his rolling voice and in a kind of chant
+expounding life to his flock of adoring society ladies. He would
+point to the picture and explain those golden, Olympian days when
+the Eleutherinian cult had originated. The world had changed much
+since then, and for the worse; those who had power must take it as
+their task to restore beauty and splendor to the world, and to
+develop the gracious possibilities of being.
+
+Peter, of course, hadn’t really believed in anything that went on in
+the Temple of Jimjambo; and yet he had been awed by its richness,
+and by the undoubtedly exclusive character of its worshippers; he
+had got the idea definitely fixed in his head that there really had
+been a Mount Olympus, and when he tried to imagine the millionaires
+and their ways, it was these gods and goddesses, reclining on silken
+couches and sipping nectar, that came to his mind!
+
+Now since Peter had come to know the Reds, who wanted to blow up the
+palaces of the millionaires, he was more than ever on the side of
+his gods and goddesses. His fervors for them increased every time he
+heard them assailed; he wanted to meet some of them, and
+passionately, yet respectfully, pour out to them his allegiance. A
+glow of satisfaction came over him as he pictured himself in some
+palace, lounging upon a silken conch and explaining to a millionaire
+his understanding of the value of beauty and splendor in the world.
+
+And now he was to meet one; it was to be a part of his job to
+cultivate one! True, there was something wrong with this particular
+millionaire--he was one of those freaks who for some reason beyond
+imagining gave their sympathy to the dynamiters and assassins. Peter
+had met “Parlor Reds” at the home of the Todd sisters; the large
+shining ladies who came in large shining cars to hear him tell of
+his jail experiences. But he hadn’t been sure as to whether they
+were really millionaires or not, and Sadie, when he had inquired
+particularly, had answered vaguely that every one in the radical
+movement who could afford an automobile or a dress-suit was called a
+millionaire by the newspapers.
+
+But young Lackman was a real millionaire, McGivney positively
+assured him; and so Peter was free to admire him in spite of all his
+freak ideas, which the rat-faced man explained with intense
+amusement. Young Lackman conducted a school for boys, and when one
+of the boys did wrong, the teacher would punish himself instead of
+the boy! Peter must pretend to be interested in this kind of
+“education,” said McGivney, and he must learn at least the names of
+Lackman’s books.
+
+“But will he pay any attention to me?” demanded Peter.
+
+“Sure, he will,” said McGivney. “That’s the point--you’ve been in
+jail, you’ve really done something as a pacifist. What you want to
+do is to try to interest him in your Anti-conscription League. Tell
+him you want to make it into a national organization, you want to
+get something done besides talking.”
+
+The address of young Lackman was the Hotel de Soto; and as he heard
+this, Peter’s heart gave a leap. The Hotel de Soto was the Mount
+Olympus of American City! Peter had walked by the vast white
+structure, and seen the bronze doors swing outward, and the favored
+ones of the earth emerging to their magic chariots; but never had it
+occurred to him that he might pass thru those bronze doors, and gaze
+upon those hidden mysteries!
+
+“Will they let me in?” he asked McGivney, and the other laughed.
+“Just walk in as if you owned the place,” he said. “Hold up your
+head, and pretend you’ve lived there all your life.”
+
+That was easy for McGivney to say, but not so easy for Peter to
+imagine. However, he would try it; McGivney must be right, for it
+was the same thing Mrs. James had impressed upon him many times. You
+must watch what other people did, and practice by yourself, and then
+go in and do it as if you had never done anything else. All life was
+a gigantic bluff, and you encouraged yourself in your bluffing by
+the certainty that everybody else was bluffing just as hard.
+
+At seven o’clock that evening Peter strolled up to the magic bronze
+doors, and touched them; and sure enough, the blue-uniformed
+guardians drew them back without a word, and the tiny brass-button
+imps never even glanced at Peter as he strode up to the desk and
+asked for Mr. Lackman.
+
+The haughty clerk passed him on to a still more haughty telephone
+operator, who condescended to speak into her trumpet, and then
+informed him that Mr. Lackman was out; he had left word that he
+would return at eight. Peter was about to go out and wander about
+the streets for an hour, when he suddenly remembered that everybody
+else was bluffing; so he marched across the lobby and seated himself
+in one of the huge leather arm-chairs, big enough to hold three of
+him. There he sat, and continued to sit--and nobody said a word!
+
+
+
+
+Section 37
+
+
+Yes, this was Mount Olympus, and here were the gods: the female ones
+in a state of divine semi-nudity, the male ones mostly clad in black
+coats with pleated shirt-fronts puffing out. Every time one of them
+moved up to the desk Peter would watch and wonder, was this Mr.
+Lackman? He might have been able to pick out a millionaire from an
+ordinary crowd; but here every male god was got up for the precise
+purpose of looking like a millionaire, so Peter’s job was an
+impossible one.
+
+In front of him across the lobby floor there arose a ten-foot pillar
+to a far-distant roof. This pillar was of pale, green-streaked
+marble, and Peter’s eyes followed it to the top, where it exploded
+in a snow-white cloud-burst, full of fascination. There were four
+cornucopias, one at each corner, and out of each cornucopia came
+tangled ropes of roses, and out of these roses came other ropes,
+with what appeared to be apples and leaves, and still more roses,
+and still more emerging ropes, spreading in a tangle over the
+ceiling. Here and there, in the midst of all this splendor, was the
+large, placidly smiling face of a boy angel; four of these placidly
+smiling boy angels gazed from the four sides of the snow-white
+cloud-burst, and Peter’s eye roamed from one to another, fascinated
+by the mathematics of this architectural marvel. There were fourteen
+columns in a row, and four such rows in the lobby. That made
+fifty-six columns in all, or two hundred and twenty-four boy angels’
+heads. How many cornucopias and how many roses and how many apples
+it meant, defied all calculation. The boy angels’ heads were exactly
+alike, every head with the same size and quality of smile; and Peter
+marvelled--how many days would it take a sculptor to carve the
+details of two hundred and twenty-four boy angel smiles?
+
+All over the Hotel de Soto was this same kind of sumptuous
+magnificence; and Peter experienced the mental effect which it was
+contrived to produce upon him--a sense of bedazzlement and awe, a
+realization that those who dwelt in the midst of this splendor were
+people to whom money was nothing, who could pour out treasures in a
+never-ceasing flood. And everything else about the place was of the
+same character, contrived for the same effect--even the gods and the
+goddesses! One would sweep by with a tiara of jewels in her hair;
+you might amuse yourself by figuring out the number of the jewels,
+as you had figured out the number of the boy angels’ heads. Or you
+might take her gown of black lace, embroidered with golden
+butterflies, every one patiently done by hand; you might figure--so
+many yards of material, and so many golden butterflies to the yard!
+You might count the number of sparkling points upon her jet
+slippers, or trace the intricate designs upon her almost transparent
+stockings--only there was an inch or two of the stockings which you
+could not see.
+
+Peter watched these gorgeous divinities emerge from the elevators,
+and sweep their way into the dining-room beyond. Some people might
+have been shocked by their costumes; but to Peter, who had the
+picture of Mount Olympus in mind, they seemed most proper. It all
+depended on the point of view: whether you thought of a goddess as
+fully clothed from chin to toes, and proceeded with a pair of shears
+to cut away so much of her costume, or whether you imagined the
+goddess in a state of nature, and proceeded to put veils of gauze
+about her, and a ribbon over each shoulder to hold the veils in
+place.
+
+Twice Peter went to the desk, to inquire if Mr. Lackman had come in
+yet; but still he had not come; and Peter--growing bolder, like the
+fox who spoke to the lion--strolled about the lobby, gazing at the
+groups of gods at ease. He had noticed a great balcony around all
+four sides of this lobby, the “mezzanine floor,” as it was called;
+he decided he would see what was up there, and climbed the white
+marble stairs, and beheld more rows of chairs and couches, done in
+dark grey velvet. Here, evidently, was where the female gods came to
+linger, and Peter seated himself as unobtrusively as possible, and
+watched.
+
+Directly in front of him sat a divinity, lolling on a velvet couch
+with one bare white arm stretched out. It was a large stout arm, and
+the possessor was large and stout, with pale golden hair and many
+sparkling jewels. Her glance roamed lazily from place to place. It
+rested for an instant on Peter, and then moved on, and Peter felt
+the comment upon his own insignificance.
+
+Nevertheless, he continued to steal glances now and then, and
+presently saw an interesting sight. In her lap this Juno had a
+gold-embroidered bag, and she opened it, disclosing a collection of
+mysterious apparatus of which she proceeded to make use: first a
+little gold hand-mirror, in which she studied her charms; then a
+little white powder-puff with which she deftly tapped her nose and
+cheeks; then some kind of red pencil with which she proceeded to rub
+her lips; then a golden pencil with which she lightly touched her
+eyebrows. Then it seemed as if she must have discovered a little
+hair which had grown since she left her dressing-room. Peter
+couldn’t be sure, but she had a little pair of tweezers, and seemed
+to pull something out of her chin. She went on with quite an
+elaborate and complicated toilet, paying meantime not the slightest
+attention to the people passing by.
+
+Peter looked farther, and saw that just as when one person sneezes
+or yawns everybody else in the room is irresistibly impelled to
+sneeze or yawn, so all these Dianas and Junos and Hebes on the
+“mezzanine floor” had suddenly remembered their little gold or
+silver hand-mirrors, their powder-puffs and red or golden or black
+pencils. One after another, the little vanity-bags came forth, and
+Peter, gazing in wonder, thought that Mount Olympus had turned into
+a beauty parlor.
+
+Peter rose again and strolled and watched the goddesses, big and
+little, old and young, fat and thin, pretty and ugly--and it seemed
+to him the fatter and older and uglier they were, the more intently
+they gazed into the little hand-mirrors. He watched them with hungry
+eyes, for he knew that here he was in the midst of high life, the
+real thing, the utmost glory to which man could ever hope to attain,
+and he wanted to know all there was to know about it. He strolled
+on, innocent and unsuspecting, and the two hundred and twenty-four
+white boy angels in the ceiling smiled their bland and placid smiles
+at him, and Peter knew no more than they what complications fate had
+prepared for him on that mezzanine floor!
+
+On one of the big lounges there sat a girl, a radiant creature from
+the Emerald Isles, with hair like sunrise and cheeks like apples.
+Peter took one glance at her, and his heart missed three successive
+beats, and then, to make up for lost time, began leaping like a
+runaway race-horse. He could hardly believe what his eyes told him;
+but his eyes insisted, his eyes knew; yes, his eyes had gazed for
+hours and hours on end upon that hair like sunrise and those cheeks
+like apples. The girl was Nell, the chambermaid of the Temple of
+Jimjambo!
+
+She had not looked Peter’s way, so there was time for him to start
+back and hide himself behind a pillar; there he stood, peering out
+and watching her profile, still arguing with his eyes. It couldn’t
+be Nell; and yet it was! Nell transfigured, Nell translated to
+Olympus, turned into a goddess with a pale grey band about her
+middle, and a pale grey ribbon over each shoulder to hold it in
+place! Nell reclining at ease and chatting vivaciously to a young
+man with the face of a bulldog and the dinner-jacket of a magazine
+advertisement!
+
+Peter gazed and waited, while his heart went on misbehaving. Peter
+learned in those few fearful minutes what real love is, a most
+devastating force. Little Jennie was forgotten, Mrs. James, the
+grass widow was forgotten, and Peter knew that he had never really
+admired but one woman in the world, and that was Nell, the Irish
+chambermaid of the Temple of Jimjambo. The poets have seen fit to
+represent young love as a mischievous little archer with a sharp and
+penetrating arrow, and now Peter understood what they had meant;
+that arrow had pierced him thru, and he had to hold on to the column
+to keep himself from falling.
+
+
+
+
+Section 38
+
+
+Presently the couple rose and strolled away to the elevator, and
+Peter followed. He did not dare get into the elevator with them, for
+he had suddenly become accutely aware of the costume he was wearing
+in his role of proletarian anti-militarist! But Peter was certain
+that Nell and her escort were not going out of the building, for
+they had no hats or wraps; so he went downstairs and hunted thru the
+lobby and the dining-room, and then thru the basement, from which he
+heard strains of music. Here was another vast room, got up in mystic
+oriental fashion, with electric lights hidden in bunches of
+imitation flowers on each table. This room was called the “grill,”
+ and part of it was bare for dancing, and on a little platform sat a
+band playing music.
+
+The strangest music that ever assailed human ears! If Peter had
+heard it before seeing Nell, he would not have understood it, but
+now its weird rhythms fitted exactly to the moods which were
+tormenting him. This music would groan, it would rattle and squeak;
+it would make noises like swiftly torn canvas, or like a steam siren
+in a hurry. It would climb up to the heavens and come banging down
+to hell. And every thing with queer, tormenting motions, gliding and
+writhing, wriggling, jerking, jumping. Peter would never have known
+what to make of such music, if he had not had it here made visible
+before his eyes, in the behavior of the half-naked goddesses and the
+black-coated gods on this dancing floor. These celestial ones came
+sliding across the floor like skaters, they came writhing like
+serpents, they came strutting like turkeys, jumping like rabbits,
+stalking solemnly like giraffes. They came clamped in one another’s
+arms like bears trying to hug each other to death; they came
+contorting themselves as if they were boa-constrictors trying to
+swallow each other. And Peter, watching them and listening to their
+music, made a curious discovery about himself. Deeply buried in
+Peter’s soul were the ghosts of all sorts of animals; Peter had once
+been a boa-constrictor, Peter had once been a bear, Peter had once
+been a rabbit and a giraffe, a turkey and a fox; and now under the
+spell of this weird music these dead creatures came to life in his
+soul. So Peter discovered the meaning of “jazz,” in all its weirdly
+named and incredible varieties.
+
+Also Peter discovered that he had once been a caveman, and had hit
+his rival over the head with a stone axe and carried off his girl by
+the hair. All this he discovered while he stood in the doorway of
+the Hotel de Soto grill, and watched Nell, the ex-chambermaid of the
+Temple of Jimjambo, doing the turkey-trot and the fox-trot and the
+grizzly-bear and the bunny-hug in the arms of a young man with the
+face of a bulldog.
+
+Peter stood for a long while in a daze. Nell and the young man sat
+down at one of the tables to have a meal, but still Peter stood
+watching and trying to figure out what to do. He knew that he must
+not speak to her in his present costume; there would be no way to
+make her understand that he was only playing a role--that he who
+looked like a “dead one” was really a prosperous man of important
+affairs, a 100% red-blooded patriot disguised as a proletarian
+pacifist. No, he must wait, he must get into his best before he
+spoke to her. But meantime, she might go away, and he might not be
+able to find her again in this huge city!
+
+After an hour or two he succeeded in figuring out a way, and hurried
+upstairs to the writing-room and penned a note:
+
+“Nell: This is your old friend Peter Gudge. I have struck it rich
+and have important news for you. Be sure to send word to me. Peter.”
+ To this he added his address, and sealed it in an envelope to “Miss
+Nell Doolin.”
+
+Then he went out into the lobby, and signalled to one of the
+brass-button imps who went about the place calling names in shrill
+sing-song; he got this youngster off in a corner and pressed a
+dollar bill into his hand. There was a young lady in the grill who
+was to have this note at once. It was very important. Would the
+brass-button imp do it?
+
+The imp said sure, and Peter stood in the doorway and watched him
+walk back and forth thru the aisles of the grill, calling in his
+shrill sing-song, “Miss Nell Doolin! Miss Nell Doolin!” He walked
+right by the table where Nell sat eating; he sang right into her
+face, it seemed to Peter; but she never gave a sign.
+
+Peter did not know what to make of it, but he was bound to get that
+note to Nell. So when the imp returned, he pointed her out, and the
+imp went again and handed the note to her. Peter saw her take
+it--then he darted away; and remembering suddenly that he was
+supposed to be on duty, be rushed back to the office and inquired
+for Mr. Lackman. To his horror he learned that Mr. Lackman had
+returned, paid his bill, and departed with his suitcase to a
+destination unknown!
+
+
+
+
+Section 39
+
+
+Peter had a midnight appointment with McGivney, and now had to go
+and admit this humiliating failure. He had done his best, he
+declared; he had inquired at the desk, and waited and waited, but
+the hotel people had failed to notify him of Lackman’s arrival. All
+this was strictly true; but it did not pacify McGivney, who was in a
+black fury. “It might have been worth thousands of dollars to you!”
+ he declared. “He’s the biggest fish we’ll ever get on our hook.”
+
+“Won’t he come again?” asked grief-stricken Peter.
+
+“No,” declared the other. “They’ll get him at his home city.”
+
+“But won’t that do?” asked Peter, naively.
+
+“You damned fool!” was McGivney’s response. “We wanted to get him
+here, where we could pluck him ourselves.”
+
+The rat-faced man hadn’t intended to tell Peter so much, but in his
+rage he let it out. He and a couple of his friends had planned to
+“get something” on this young millionaire, and scare the wits out of
+him, with the idea that he would put up a good many thousand dollars
+to be let off. Peter might have had his share of this--only he had
+been fool enough to let the bird get out of his net!
+
+Peter offered to follow the young man to his home city, and find
+some way to lure him back into McGivney’s power. After McGivney had
+stormed for a while, he decided that this might be possible. He
+would talk it over with the others, and let Peter know. But alas,
+when Peter picked up an afternoon newspaper next day, he read on the
+front page how young Lackman, stepping off the train in his home
+city that morning, had been placed under arrest; his school had been
+raided, and half a dozen of the teachers were in jail, and a ton of
+Red literature had been confiscated, and a swarm of dire
+conspiracies against the safety of the country had been laid bare!
+
+Peter read this news, and knew that he was in for another stormy
+hour with his boss. But he hardly gave a thought to it, because of
+something which had happened a few minutes before, something of so
+much greater importance. A messenger had brought him a special
+delivery letter, and with thumping heart he had torn it open and
+read:
+
+“All right. Meet me in the waiting-room of Guggenheim’s Department
+Store at two o’clock this afternoon. But for God’s sake forget Nell
+Doolin. Yours, Edythe Eustace.”
+
+So here was Peter dressed in his best clothes, as for his temporary
+honeymoon with the grass widow, and on the way to the rendezvous an
+hour ahead of time. And here came Nell, also dressed, every garment
+so contrived that a single glance would tell the beholder that their
+owner was moving in the highest circles, and regardless of expense.
+Nell glanced over her shoulder now and then as she talked, and
+explained that Ted Crothers, the man with the bulldog face, was a
+terror, and it was hard to get away from him, because he had nothing
+to do all day.
+
+The waiting-room of a big department-store was not the place Peter
+would have selected for the pouring out of his heart; but he had to
+make the best of it, so he told Nell that he loved her, that he
+would never be able to love anybody else, and that he had made piles
+of money now, he was high up on the ladder of prosperity. Nell did
+not laugh at him, as she had laughed in the Temple of Jimjambo, for
+it was easily to be seen that Peter Gudge was no longer a scullion,
+but a man of the world with a fascinating air of mystery. Nell
+wanted to know forthwith what was he doing; he answered that he
+could not tell, it was a secret of the most desperate import; he was
+under oath. These were the days of German spies and bomb-plots, when
+kings and kaisers and emperors and tsars were pouring treasures into
+America for all kinds of melodramatic purposes; also the days of
+government contracts and secret deals, when in the lobbies and
+private meeting-places of hotels like the de Soto there were
+fortunes made and unmade every hour. So it was easy for Nell to
+believe in a real secret, and being a woman, she put all her
+faculties upon the job of guessing it.
+
+She did not again ask Peter to tell her; but she let him talk, and
+tactfully guided the conversation, and before long she knew that
+Peter was intimate with a great many of the most desperate Reds, and
+likewise that he knew all about the insides of the Goober case, and
+about the great men of American City who had put up a million
+dollars for the purpose of hanging Goober, and about the various
+ways in which this money had been spent and wires had been pulled to
+secure a conviction. Nell put two and two together, and before long
+she figured out that the total was four; she suddenly confronted
+Peter with this total, and Peter was dumb with consternation, and
+broke down and confessed everything, and told Nell all about his
+schemes and his achievements and his adventures--omitting only
+little Jennie and the grass widow.
+
+He told about the sums he had been making and was expecting to make;
+he told about Lackman, and showed Nell the newspaper with pictures
+of the young millionaire and his school. “What a handsome fellow!”
+ said Nell. “It’s a shame!”
+
+“How do you mean?” asked Peter, a little puzzled. Could it be that
+Nell had any sympathy for these Reds?
+
+“I mean,” she answered, “that he’d have been worth more to you than
+all the rest put together.”
+
+Nell was a woman, and her mind ran to the practical aspect of
+things. “Look here, Peter,” she said, “you’ve been letting those
+`dicks’ work you. They’re getting the swag, and just giving you
+tips. What you need is somebody to take care of you.”
+
+Peter’s heart leaped. “Will you do it?” he cried.
+
+“I’ve got Ted on my hands,” said the girl. “He’d cut my throat, and
+yours too, if he knew I was here. But I’ll try to get myself free,
+and then maybe--I won’t promise, but I’ll think over your problem,
+Peter, and I’ll certainly try to help, so that McGivney and Guffey
+and those fellows can’t play you for a sucker any longer.”
+
+She must have time to think it over, she said, and to make inquiries
+about the people involved--some of whom apparently she knew. She
+would meet Peter again the next day, and in a more private place
+than here. She named a spot in the city park which would be easy to
+find, and yet sufficiently remote for a quiet conference.
+
+
+
+
+Section 40
+
+
+Peter had been made so bold by Nell’s flattery and what she had said
+about his importance, that he did not go back to McGivney to take
+his second scolding about the Lackman case. He was getting tired of
+McGivney’s scoldings; if McGivney didn’t like his work, let McGivney
+go and be a Red for a while himself. Peter walked the streets all
+day and a part of the night, thinking about Nell, and thrilling over
+the half promises she had made him.
+
+They met next day in the park. No one was following them, and they
+found a solitary place, and Nell let him kiss her several times, and
+in between the kisses she unfolded to him a terrifying plan. Peter
+had thought that he was something of an intriguer, but his
+self-esteem shriveled to nothingness in the presence of the superb
+conception which had come to ripeness in the space of twenty-four
+hours in the brain of Nell Doolin, alias Edythe Eustace.
+
+Peter had been doing the hard work, and these big fellows had been
+using him, handing him a tip now and then, and making fortunes out
+of the information he brought them. McGivney had let the cat out of
+the bag in this case of Lackman; you might be sure they had been
+making money, big money, out of all the other cases. What Peter must
+do was to work up something of his own, and get the real money, and
+make himself one of the big fellows. Peter had the facts, he knew
+the people; he had watched in the Goober case exactly how a
+“frame-up” was made, and now he must make one for himself, and one
+that would pay. It was a matter of duty to rid the country of all
+these Reds; but why should he not have the money as well?
+
+Nell had spent the night figuring over it, trying to pick out the
+right person. She had hit on old “Nelse” Ackerman, the banker.
+Ackerman was enormously and incredibly wealthy; he was called the
+financial king of American City. Also he was old, and Nell happened
+to know he was a coward; he was sick in bed just now, and when a man
+is sick he is still more of a coward. What Peter must do was to
+discover some kind of a bomb-plot against old “Nelse” Ackerman.
+Peter might talk up the idea among some of his Reds and get them
+interested in it, or he might frame up some letters to be found upon
+them, and hide some dynamite in their rooms. When the plot was
+discovered, it would make a frightful uproar, needless to say; the
+king would hear of it, and of Peter’s part as the discoverer of it,
+and he would unquestionably reward Peter. Perhaps Peter might
+arrange to be retained as a secret agent to protect the king from
+the Reds. Thus Peter would be in touch with real money, and might
+hire Guffey and McGivney, instead of their hiring him.
+
+If Peter had stood alone, would he have dared so perilous a dream as
+this? Or was he a “piker”; a little fellow, the victim of his own
+fears and vanities? Anyhow, Peter was not alone; he had Nell, and it
+was necessary that he should pose before Nell as a bold and
+desperate blade. Just as in the old days in the Temple, it was
+necessary that Peter should get plenty of money, in order to take
+Nell away from another man. So he said all right, he would go in on
+that plan; and proceeded to discuss with Nell the various
+personalities he might use.
+
+The most likely was Pat McCormick. “Mac,” with his grim, set face
+and his silent, secretive habits, fitted perfectly to Peter’s
+conception of a dynamiter. Also “Mac” was Peter’s personal enemy;
+“Mac” had just returned from his organizing trip in the oil fields,
+and had been denouncing Peter and gossiping about him in the various
+radical groups. “Mac” was the most dangerous Red of them all! He
+must surely be one of the dynamiters!
+
+Another likely one was Joe Angell, whom Peter had met at a recent
+gathering of Ada Ruth’s “Anti-conscription League.” People made
+jokes about this chap’s name because he looked the part, with his
+bright blue eyes that seemed to have come out of heaven, and his
+bright golden hair, and even the memory of dimples in his cheeks.
+But when Joe opened his lips, you discovered that he was an angel
+from the nether regions. He was the boldest and most defiant of all
+the Reds that Peter had yet come upon. He had laughed at Ada Ruth
+and her sentimental literary attitude toward the subject of the
+draft. It wasn’t writing poems and passing resolutions that was
+wanted; it wasn’t even men who would refuse to put on the uniform,
+but men who would take the guns that were offered to them, and drill
+themselves, and at the proper time face about and use the guns in
+the other direction. Agitating and organizing were all right in
+their place, but now, when the government dared challenge the
+workers and force them into the army, it was men of action that were
+needed in the radical movement.
+
+Joe Angell had been up in the lumber country, and could tell what
+was the mood of the real workers, the “huskies” of the timberlands.
+Those fellows weren’t doing any more talking; they had their secret
+committees that were ready to take charge of things as soon as they
+had put the capitalists and their governments out of business.
+Meantime, if there was a sheriff or prosecuting attorney that got
+too gay, they would “bump him off.” This was a favorite phrase of
+“Blue-eyed Angell.” He would use it every half hour or so as he told
+about his adventures. “Yes,” he would say; “he got gay, but we
+bumped him off all right.”
+
+
+
+
+Section 41
+
+
+So Nell and Peter settled down to work out the details of their
+“frame-up” on Joe Angell and Pat McCormick. Peter must get a bunch
+of them together and get them to talking about bombs and killing
+people; and then he must slip a note into the pockets of all who
+showed interest, calling them to meet for a real conspiracy. Nell
+would write the notes, so that no one could fasten the job onto
+Peter. She pulled out a pencil and a little pad from her handbag,
+and began: “If you really believe in a bold stroke for the workers’
+rights, meet me--” And then she stopped. “Where?”
+
+“In the studios,” put in Peter.
+
+And Nell wrote, “In the studios. Is that enough?”
+
+“Room 17.” Peter knew that this was the room of Nikitin, a Russian
+painter who called himself an Anarchist.
+
+So Nell wrote “Room 17,” and after further discussion she added:
+“Tomorrow morning at eight o’clock. No names and no talk. Action!”
+ This time was set because Peter recollected that there was to be a
+gathering of the “wobblies” in their headquarters this very evening.
+It was to be a business meeting, but of course these fellows never
+got together very long without starting the subject of “tactics.”
+ There was a considerable element among them who were dissatisfied
+with what they called the “supine attitude” of the organization, and
+were always arguing for action. Peter was sure he would be able to
+get some of them interested in the idea of a dynamite conspiracy.
+
+As it turned out, Peter had no trouble at all; the subject was
+started without his having to put in a word. Were the workers to be
+driven like sheep to the slaughter, and the “wobblies” not to make
+one move? So asked the “Blue-eyed Angell,” vehemently, and added
+that if they were going to move, American City was as good a place
+as any. He had talked with enough of the rank and file to realize
+that they were ready for action; all they needed was a battle-cry
+and an organization to guide them.
+
+Henderson, the big lumber-jack, spoke up. That was just the trouble;
+you couldn’t get an organization for such a purpose. The authorities
+would get spies among you, they would find out what you were doing,
+and drive you underground.
+
+“Well,” cried Joe, “we’ll go underground!”
+
+“Yes,” agreed the other, “but then your organization goes bust.
+Nobody knows who to trust, everybody’s accusing the rest of being a
+spy.”
+
+“Hell!” said Joe Angell. “I’ve been in jail for the movement, I’ll
+take my chances of anybody’s calling me a spy. What I’m not going to
+do is to sit down and see the workers driven to hell, because I’m so
+damn careful about my precious organization.”
+
+When others objected, Angell rushed on still more vehemently.
+Suppose they did fail in a mass-uprising, suppose they were driven
+to assassination and terrorism? At least they would teach the
+exploiters a lesson, and take a little of the joy out of their
+lives.
+
+Peter thought it would be a good idea for him to pose as a
+conservative just now. “Do you really think the capitalists would
+give up from fear?” he asked.
+
+And the other answered: “You bet I do! I tell you if we’d made it
+understood that every congressman who voted this country into war
+would be sent to the front trenches, our country would still be at
+peace.”
+
+“But,” put in Peter, deftly, “it ain’t the congressmen. It’s people
+higher up than them.”
+
+“You bet,” put in Gus, the Swedish sailor. “You bet you! I name you
+one dozen big fellows in dis country--you make it clear if we don’t
+get peace dey all get killed--we get peace all right!”
+
+So Peter had things where he wanted them. “Who are those fellows?”
+ he asked, and got the crowd arguing over names. Of course they
+didn’t argue very long before somebody mentioned “Nelse” Ackerman,
+who was venomously hated by the Reds because he had put up a hundred
+thousand dollars of the Anti-Goober fund. Peter pretended not to
+know about Nelse; and Jerry Rudd, a “blanket-stiff” whose head was
+still sore from being cracked open in a recent harvesters’ strike,
+remarked that by Jesus, if they’d put a few fellows like that in the
+trenches, there’d be some pacifists in Ameriky sure enough all
+right.
+
+
+It seemed almost as if Joe Angell had come there to back up Peter’s
+purpose. “What we want,” said he, “is a few fellows to fight as hard
+for themselves as they fight for the capitalists.”
+
+“Yes,” assented Henderson, grimly. “We’re all so good--we wait till
+our masters tell us we can kill.”
+
+That was the end of the discussion; but it seemed quite enough to
+Peter. He watched his chance, and one by one he managed to slip his
+little notes into the coat-pockets of Joe Angell, Jerry Rudd,
+Henderson, and Gus, the sailor. And then Peter made his escape,
+trembling with excitement. The great dynamite conspiracy was on!
+“They must be got rid of!” he was whispering to himself. “They must
+be got rid of by any means! It’s my duty I’m doing.”
+
+
+
+
+Section 42
+
+
+Peter had an appointment to meet Nell on a street corner at eleven
+o’clock that same night, and when she stepped off the street-car,
+Peter saw that she was carrying a suit-case. “Did you get your job
+done?” she asked quickly, and when Peter answered in the
+affirmative, she added: “Here’s your bomb!”
+
+Peter’s jaw fell. He looked so frightened that she hastened to
+reassure him. It wouldn’t go off; it was only the makings of a bomb,
+three sticks of dynamite and some fuses and part of a clock. The
+dynamite was wrapped carefully, and there was no chance of its
+exploding--if he didn’t drop it! But Peter wasn’t much consoled. He
+had had no idea that Nell would go so far, or that he would actually
+have to handle dynamite. He wondered where and how she had got it,
+and wished to God he was out of this thing.
+
+But it was too late now, of course. Said Nell: “You’ve got to get
+this suit-case into the headquarters, and you’ve got to get it there
+without anybody seeing you. They’ll be shut up pretty soon, won’t
+they?”
+
+“We locked up when we left,” said Peter.
+
+“And who has the key?”
+
+“Grady, the secretary.”
+
+“There’s no way you can get it?”
+
+“I can get into the room,” said Peter, quickly. “There’s a fire
+escape, and the window isn’t tight. Some of us that know about it
+have got in that way when the place was locked.”
+
+“All right,” said Nell. “We’ll wait a bit; we mustn’t take chances
+of anyone coming back.”
+
+They started to stroll along the street, Nell still carrying the
+suit-case, as if distrusting the state of Peter’s nerves, Meantime
+she explained, “I’ve got two pieces of paper that we’ve got to plant
+in the room. One’s to be torn up and thrown into the trash-basket.
+It’s supposed to be part of a letter about some big plan that’s to
+be pulled off, and it’s signed `Mac.’ That’s for McCormick, of
+course. I had to type it, not having any sample of his handwriting.
+The other piece is a drawing; there’s no marks to show what it is,
+but of course the police’ll soon find out. It’s a plan of
+old Ackerman’s home, and there’s a cross mark showing his
+sleeping-porch. Now, what we want to do is to fix this on McCormick.
+Is there anything in the room that belongs to him?”
+
+Peter thought, and at last remembered that in the bookshelves were
+some books which had been donated by McCormick, and which had his
+name written in. That was the trick! exclaimed Nell. They would hide
+the paper in one of these books, and when the police made a thorough
+search they would find it. Nell asked what was in these books, and
+Peter thought, and remembered that one was a book on sabotage. “Put
+the paper in that,” said Nell. “When the police find it, the
+newspapers’ll print the whole book.”
+
+Peter’s knees were trembling so that he could hardly walk, but he
+kept reminding himself that he was a “he-man,” a 100% American, and
+that in these times of war every patriot must do his part. His part
+was to help rid the country of these Reds, and he must not flinch.
+They made their way to the old building in which the I. W. W.
+headquarters were located, and Peter climbed up on the fence and
+swung over to the fire-escape, and Nell very carefully handed the
+suit-case to him, and Peter opened the damaged window and slipped
+into the room.
+
+He knew just where the cupboard was, and quickly stored the
+suit-case in the corner, and piled some odds and ends of stuff in
+front of it, and threw an old piece of canvas over it. He took out
+of his right-hand pocket a typewritten letter, and tore it into
+small pieces and threw them into the trash-basket. Then he took out
+of his left-hand pocket the other paper, with the drawing of
+Ackerman’s house. He went to the bookcase and with shaking fingers
+struck a match, picked out the little redbound book entitled
+“Sabotage,” and stuck the paper inside, and put the book back in
+place. Then he climbed out on the fire-escape and dropped to the
+ground, jumped over the fence, and hurried down the alley to where
+Nell was waiting for him.
+
+“It’s for my country!” he was whispering to himself.
+
+
+
+
+Section 43
+
+
+The job was now complete, except for getting McCormick to the
+rendezvous next morning. Nell had prepared and would mail in the
+postoffice a special delivery letter addressed to McCormick’s home.
+This would be delivered about seven o’clock in the morning, and
+inside was a typewritten note, as follows:
+
+“Mac: Come to Room 17 of the studios at eight in the morning. Very
+important. Our plan is all ready, my part is done. Joe.”
+
+Nell figured that McCormick would take this to be a message from
+Angell. He wouldn’t know what it was about, but he’d be all the more
+certain to come and find out. The essential thing was that the raid
+by the detectives must occur the very minute the conspirators got
+together, for as soon as they compared notes they would become
+suspicious, and might scatter at once. McGivney must have his men
+ready; he must be notified and have plenty of time to get them
+ready.
+
+But there was a serious objection to this--if McGivney had time, he
+would demand a talk with Peter, and Nell was sure that Peter
+couldn’t stand a cross-questioning at McGivney’s hands. Peter,
+needless to say, agreed with her; his heart threatened to collapse
+at the thought of such an ordeal. What Peter really wanted to do was
+to quit the whole thing right there and then; but he dared not say
+so, he dared not face the withering scorn of his confederate. Peter
+clenched his hands and set his teeth, and when he passed a street
+light he turned his face away, so that Nell might not read the
+humiliating terror written there. But Nell read it all the same;
+Nell believed that she was dealing with a quivering, pasty-faced
+coward, and proceeded on that basis; she worked out the plans, she
+gave Peter his orders, and she stuck by him to see that he carried
+them out.
+
+Peter had McGivney’s home telephone number, which he was only
+supposed to use in the most desperate emergency. He was to use it
+now, and tell McGivney that he had just caught some members of the
+I. W. W., with Pat McCormick as their leader, preparing to blow up
+some people with dynamite bombs. They had some bombs in a suit-case
+in their headquarters, and were just starting out with other bombs
+in their pockets. Peter must follow them, otherwise he would lose
+them, and some crime might be committed before he could interfere.
+McGivney must have his agents ready with automobiles to swoop down
+upon any place that Peter indicated. Peter would follow up the
+conspirators, and phone McGivney again at the first opportunity he
+could find.
+
+Nell was especially insistent that when Peter spoke to McGivney he
+must have only a moment to spare, no time for questions, and he must
+not stop to answer any. He must be in a state of trembling
+excitement; and Peter was sure that would be very easy! He rehearsed
+over to Nell every word he must say, and just how he was to cut
+short the conversation and hang up the receiver. Then he went into
+an all night drug-store just around the corner from the
+headquarters, and from a telephone booth called McGivney’s home.
+
+It was an apartment house, and after some delay Peter heard the
+voice of his employer, surly with sleep. But Peter waked him up
+quickly. “Mr. McGivney, there’s a dynamite plot!”
+
+“_What_?”
+
+“I. W. W. They’ve got bombs in a suit-case! They’re starting off to
+blow somebody up tonight.”
+
+“By God! What do you mean? Who?”
+
+“I dunno yet. I only heard part of it, and I’ve got to go. They’re
+starting, I’ve got to follow them. I may lose them and it’ll be too
+late. You hear me, I’ve got to follow them!”
+
+“I hear you. What do you want me to do?”
+
+“I’ll phone you again the first chance I get. You have your men
+ready, a dozen of them! Have automobiles, so you can come quick. You
+get me?”
+
+“Yes, but--”
+
+“I can’t talk any more, I may lose them, I haven’t a second! You be
+at your phone, and have your men ready--everything ready. You get
+me?”
+
+“Yes, but listen, man! You sure you’re not mistaken?”
+
+“Yes, yes, I’m sure!” cried Peter, his voice mounting in excitement.
+“They’ve got the dynamite, I tell you--everything! It’s a man named
+Nelse.”
+
+“Nelse what?”
+
+“The man they’re going to kill. I’ve got to go now, you get ready.
+Good-bye!” And Peter hung up the receiver. He had got so excited
+over the part he was playing that he sprang up and ran out of the
+drug-store, as if he really had to catch up with some I. W. W.
+conspirators carrying a dynamite bomb!
+
+But there was Nell, and they strolled down the street again. They
+came to a small park, and sat on one of the benches, because Peter’s
+legs would no longer hold him up. Nell walked about to make sure
+there was no one on any of the other benches; then she came back and
+rehearsed the next scene with Peter. They must go over it most
+carefully, because before long the time was coming when Peter
+wouldn’t have Nell to coach him, and must be prepared to stand on
+his own legs. Peter knew that, and his legs failed him. He wanted to
+back down, and declare that he couldn’t go ahead with it; he wanted
+to go to McGivney and confess everything. Nell divined what was
+going on in his soul, and wished to save him the humiliation of
+having it known. She sat close to him on the bench, and put her hand
+on his as she talked to him, and presently Peter felt a magic thrill
+stealing over him. He ventured to put his arm about Nell, to get
+still more of this delicious sensation; and Nell permitted the
+embraces, for the first time she even encouraged them. Peter was a
+hero now, he was undertaking a bold and desperate venture; he was
+going to put it thru like a man, and win Nell’s real admiration.
+“Our country’s at war!” she exclaimed. “And these devils are
+stopping it!”
+
+So pretty soon Peter was ready to face the whole world; Peter was
+ready to go himself and blow up the king of American City with a
+dynamite bomb! In that mood he stayed thru the small hours of the
+morning, sitting on the bench clasping his girl in his arms, and
+wishing she would give a little more time to heeding his
+love-making, and less to making him recite his lessons.
+
+
+
+
+Section 44
+
+
+So the day began to break and the birds to sing. The sun rose on
+Peter’s face gray with exhaustion and the Irish apples in Nell’s
+cheeks badly faded. But the time for action had come, and Peter went
+off to watch McCormick’s home until seven o’clock, when the special
+delivery letter was due to arrive.
+
+It came on time, and Peter saw McCormick come out of the house and
+set forth in the direction of the studios. It was too early for the
+meeting, so Peter figured that he would stop to get his breakfast;
+and sure enough “Mac” turned into, a little dairy lunch, and Peter
+hastened to the nearest telephone and called his boss.
+
+“Mr. McGivney,” he said, “I lost those fellows last night, but now I
+got them again. They decided not to do anything till today. They’re
+having a meeting this morning and we’ve a chance to nab them all.”
+
+“Where?” demanded McGivney.
+
+“Room seventeen in the studios; but don’t let any of your men go
+near there, till I make sure the right fellows are in.”
+
+“Listen here, Peter Gudge!” cried McGivney. “Is this straight goods?”
+
+“My God!” cried Peter. “What do you take me for? I tell you they’ve
+got loads of dynamite.”
+
+“What have they done with it?”
+
+“They’ve got some in their headquarters. About the rest I dunno.
+They carried it off and I lost them last night. But then I found a
+note in my pocket--they were inviting me to come in.”
+
+“By God!” exclaimed the rat-faced man.
+
+“We’ve got the whole thing, I tell you! Have you got your men ready?”
+
+“Yes.”
+
+“Well then, have them come to the corner of Seventh and Washington
+Streets, and you come to Eighth and Washington. Meet me there just
+as quick as you can.”
+
+“I get you,” was the answer, and Peter hung up, and rushed off to
+the appointed rendezvous. He was so nervous that he had to sit on
+the steps of a building. As time passed and McGivney didn’t appear,
+wild imaginings began to torment him. Maybe McGivney hadn’t
+understood him correctly! Or maybe his automobile might break down!
+Or his telephone might have got out of order at precisely the
+critical moment! He and his men would arrive too late, they would
+find the trap sprung, and the prey escaped.
+
+Ten minutes passed, fifteen minutes, twenty minutes. At last an
+automobile rushed up the street, and McGivney stepped out, and the
+automobile sped on. Peter got McGivney’s eye, and then stepped back
+into the shelter of a doorway. McGivney followed. “Have you got
+them?” he cried.
+
+“I d-d-dunno!” chattered Peter. “They s-s-said they were c-coming at
+eight!”
+
+“Let me see that note!” commanded McGivney; so Peter pulled out one
+of Nell’s notes which he had saved for himself:
+
+“If you really believe in a bold stroke for the workers’ rights,
+meet me in the studios, Room 17, tomorrow morning at eight o’clock.
+No names and no talk. Action!”
+
+“You found that in your pocket?” demanded the other.
+
+“Y-yes, sir.”
+
+“And you’ve no idea who put it there.”
+
+“N-no, but I think Joe Angell--”
+
+McGivney looked at his watch. “You’ve got twenty minutes yet,” be
+said.
+
+“You got the dicks?” asked Peter.
+
+“A dozen of them. What’s your idea now?”
+
+Peter stammered out his suggestions. There was a little grocery
+store just across the street from the entrance to the studio
+building. Peter would go in there, and pretend to get something to
+eat, and would watch thru the window, and the moment he saw the
+right men come in, he would hurry out and signal to McGivney, who
+would be in a drugstore at the next corner. McGivney must keep out
+of sight himself, because the “Reds” knew him as one of Guffey’s
+agents.
+
+It wasn’t necessary to repeat anything twice. McGivney was keyed up
+and ready for business, and Peter hurried down the street, and
+stepped into the little grocery store without being observed by
+anyone. He ordered some crackers and cheese, and seated himself on a
+box by the window and pretended to eat. But his hands were trembling
+so that he could hardly get the food into his mouth; and this was
+just as well, because his mouth was dry with fright, and crackers
+and cheese are articles of diet not adapted to such a condition.
+
+He kept his eyes glued on the dingy doorway of the old studio
+building, and presently--hurrah!--he saw McCormick coming down the
+street! The Irish boy turned into the building, and a couple of
+minutes later came Gus the sailor, and before another five minutes
+had passed here came Joe Angell and Henderson. They were walking
+quickly, absorbed in conversation, and Peter could imagine he heard
+them talking about those mysterious notes, and who could be the
+writer, and what the devil could they mean?
+
+Peter was now wild with nervousness; he was afraid somebody in the
+grocery store would notice him, and he made desperate efforts to eat
+the crackers and cheese, and scattered the crumbs all over himself
+and over the floor. Should he wait for Jerry Rudd, or should he take
+those he had already? He had got up and started for the door, when
+he saw the last of his victims coming down the street. Jerry was
+walking slowly, and Peter couldn’t wait until he got inside. A car
+was passing, and Peter took the chance to slip out and bolt for the
+drug store. Before he had got half way there McGivney had seen him,
+and was on the run to the next corner.
+
+Peter waited only long enough to see a couple of automobiles come
+whirling down the street, packed solid with husky detectives. Then
+he turned off and hurried down a side street. He managed to get a
+couple of blocks away, and then his nerves gave way entirely, and he
+sat down on the curbstone and began to cry--just the way little
+Jennie had cried when he told her he couldn’t marry her! People
+stopped to stare at him, and one benevolent old gentleman came up
+and tapped him on the shoulder and asked what was the trouble.
+Peter, between his tear-stained fingers, gasped: “My m-m-mother
+died!” And so they let him alone, and after a while he got up and
+hurried off again.
+
+
+
+
+Section 45
+
+
+Peter was now in a state of utter funk. He knew that he would have
+to face McGivney, and he just couldn’t do it. All he wanted was
+Nell; and Nell, knowing that he would want her, had agreed to be in
+the park at half past eight. She had warned him not to talk to a
+soul until he had talked to her. Meantime she had gone home and
+renewed her Irish roses with French rouge, and restored her energy
+with coffee and cigarettes, and now she was waiting for him, smiling
+serenely, as fresh as any bird or flower in the park that summer
+morning. She asked him in even tones how things had gone, and when
+Peter began to stammer that he didn’t think he could face McGivney,
+she proceeded to build up his courage once more. She let him put his
+arms about her, even there in broad daylight; she whispered to him
+to get himself together, to be a man, and worthy of her.
+
+What had he to be afraid of, anyway? They hadn’t a single thing on
+him, and there was no possible way they could get anything. His
+hands were clean all the way thru, and all he had to do was to stick
+it out; he must make up his mind in advance, that no matter what
+happened, he would never break down, he would never vary from the
+story he had rehearsed with her. She made him go over the story
+again; how on the previous evening, at the gathering in the I. W. W.
+headquarters, they had talked about killing Nelse Ackerman as a
+means of bringing the war to an end. And after the talk he had heard
+Joe Angell whisper to Jerry Rudd that he had the makings of a bomb
+already; he had a suit-case full of dynamite stored there in the
+closet, and he and Pat McCormick had been planning to pull off
+something that very night. Peter had gone out, but had watched
+outside, and had seen Angell, Henderson, Rudd and Gus come out.
+Peter had noticed that Angell’s pockets were stuffed, and had
+assumed that they were going to do their dynamiting, so he had
+phoned to McGivney from the drug-store. By this phoning he had
+missed the crowd, and then he had been ashamed and afraid to tell
+McGivney, and had spent the night wandering in the park. But early
+in the morning he had found the note, and had understood that it
+must have been slipped into his pocket, and that the conspirators
+wanted him to come in on their scheme. That was all, except for
+three or four sentences or fragments of sentences which Peter had
+overheard between Joe Angell and Jerry Rudd. Nell made him learn
+these sentences by heart, and she insisted that he must not under
+any circumstances try to remember or be persuaded to remember
+anything further.
+
+At last Peter was adjudged ready for the ordeal, and went to Room
+427 in the American House, and threw himself on the bed. He was so
+exhausted that once or twice he dozed; but then he would think of
+some new question that McGivney might ask him, and would start into
+wakefulness. At last he heard a key turn, and started up. There
+entered one of the detectives, a man named Hammett. “Hello, Gudge,”
+ said he. “The boss wants you to get arrested.”
+
+“Arrested!” exclaimed Peter. “Good Lord!” He had a sudden swift
+vision of himself shut up in a cell with those Reds, and forced to
+listen to “hard luck stories.”
+
+“Well,” said Hammett, “we’re arresting all the Reds, and if we skip
+you, they’ll be suspicious. You better go somewhere right away and
+get caught.”
+
+Peter saw the wisdom of this, and after a little thought he chose
+the home of Miriam Yankovitch. She was a real Red, and didn’t like
+him; but if he was arrested in her home, she would have to like him,
+and it would tend to make him “solid” with the “left wingers.” He
+gave the address to Hammett, and added, “You better come as soon as
+you can, because she may kick me out of the house.”
+
+“That’s all right,” replied the other, with a laugh. “Tell her the
+police are after you, and ask her to hide you.”
+
+So Peter hurried over to the Jewish quarter of the city, and knocked
+on a door in the top story of a tenement house. The door was opened
+by a stout woman with her sleeves rolled up and her arms covered
+with soap-suds. Yes, Miriam was in. She was out of a job just now,
+said Mrs. Yankovitch. They had fired her because she talked
+Socialism. Miriam entered the room, giving the unexpected visitor a
+cold stare that said as plain as words: “Jennie Todd!”
+
+But this changed at once when Peter told her that he had been to I.
+W. W. headquarters and found the police in charge. They had made a
+raid, and claimed to have discovered some kind of plot; fortunately
+Peter had seen the crowd outside, and had got away. Miriam took him
+into an inside room and asked him a hundred questions which he could
+not answer. He knew nothing, except that he had been to a meeting at
+headquarters the night before, and this morning he had gone there to
+get a book, and had seen the crowd and run.
+
+Half an hour later came a bang on the door, and Peter dived under
+the bed. The door was burst open, and he heard angry voices
+commanding, and vehement protests from Miriam and her mother. To
+judge from the sounds, the men began throwing the furniture this way
+and that; suddenly a hand came under the bed, and Peter was grabbed
+by the ankle, and hauled forth to confront four policemen in
+uniform.
+
+It was an awkward situation, because apparently these policemen
+hadn’t been told that Peter was a spy; the boobs thought they were
+getting a real dynamiter! One grabbed each of Peter’s wrists, and
+another kept him and Miriam covered with a revolver, while the
+fourth proceeded to go thru his pockets, looking for bombs. When
+they didn’t find any, they seemed vexed, and shook him and hustled
+him about, and made clear they would be glad of some pretext to
+batter in his head. Peter was careful not to give them such a
+pretext; he was frightened and humble, and kept declaring that he
+didn’t know anything, he hadn’t done any harm.
+
+“We’ll see about that, young fellow!” said the officer, as he
+snapped the handcuffs on Peter’s wrists. Then, while one of them
+remained on guard with the revolver, the other three proceeded to
+ransack the place, pulling out the bureau-drawers and kicking the
+contents this way and that, grabbing every scrap of writing they
+could find and jamming it into a couple of suit-cases. There were
+books with red bindings and terrifying titles, but no bombs, and no
+weapons more dangerous than a carving knife and Miriam’s tongue. The
+girl stood there with her black eyes flashing lightnings, and told
+the police exactly what she thought of them. She didn’t know what
+had happened in the I. W. W. headquarters, but she knew that
+whatever it was, it was a frame-up, and she dared them to arrest
+her, and almost succeeded in her fierce purpose. However, the police
+contented themselves with kicking over the washtub and its contents,
+and took their departure, leaving Mrs. Yankovitch screaming in the
+midst of a flood.
+
+
+
+
+Section 46
+
+
+They dragged Peter out thru a swarming tenement crowd, and clapped
+him into an automobile, and whirled him away to police headquarters,
+where they entered him in due form and put him in a cell. He was
+uneasy right away, because he had failed to arrange with Hammett how
+long he was to stay locked up. But barely an hour had passed before
+a jailer came, and took him to a private room, where he found
+himself confronted by McGivney and Hammett, also the Chief of Police
+of the city, a deputy district attorney, and last but most important
+of all--Guffey. It was the head detective of the Traction Trust who
+took Peter in charge.
+
+“Now, Gudge,” said he, “what’s this job you’ve been putting up on
+us?”
+
+It struck Peter like a blow in the face. His heart went down, his
+jaw dropped, he stared like an idiot. Good God!
+
+But he remembered Nell’s last solemn words: “Stick it out, Peter;
+stick it out!” So he cried: “What do you mean, Mr. Guffey?”
+
+“Sit down in that chair there,” said Guffey. “Now, tell us what you
+know about this whole business. Begin at the beginning and tell us
+everything--every word.” So Peter began. He had been at a meeting at
+the I. W. W. headquarters the previous evening. There had been a
+long talk about the inactivity of the organization, and what could
+be done to oppose the draft. Peter detailed the arguments, the
+discussion of violence, of dynamite and killing, the mention of
+Nelse Ackerman and the other capitalists who were to be put out of
+the way. He embellished all this, and exaggerated it greatly--it
+being the one place where Nell had said he could do no harm by
+exaggerating.
+
+Then he told how after the meeting had broken up he had noticed
+several of the men whispering among themselves. By pretending to be
+getting a book from the bookcase he had got close to Joe Angell and
+Jerry Rudd; he had heard various words and fragments of sentences,
+“dynamite,” “suit-case in the cupboard,” “Nelse,” and so on. And
+when the crowd went out he noticed that Angell’s pockets were
+bulging, and assumed that he had the bombs, and that they were going
+to do the job. He rushed to the drug-store and phoned McGivney. It
+took a long time to get McGivney, and when he had given his message
+and run out again, the crowd was out of sight. Peter was in despair,
+he was ashamed to confront McGivney, he wandered about the streets
+for hours looking for the crowd. He spent the rest of the night in
+the park. But then in the morning he discovered the piece of paper
+in his pocket, and understood that somebody had slipped it to him,
+intending to invite him to the conspiracy; so he had notified
+McGivney, and that was all he knew.
+
+McGivney began to cross-question him. He had heard Joe Angell
+talking to Jerry Rudd; had he heard him talking to anybody else? Had
+he heard any of the others talking? Just what had he heard Joe
+Angell say? Peter must repeat every word all over. This time, as
+instructed by Nell, he remembered one sentence more, and repeated
+this sentence: “Mac put it in the `sab-cat.’” He saw the others
+exchange glances. “That’s just what I heard,” said Peter--“just those
+words. I couldn’t figure out what they meant?”
+
+“Sab-cat?” said the Chief of Police, a burly figure with a brown
+moustache and a quid of tobacco tucked in the corner of his mouth.
+“That means `sabotage,’ don’t it?”
+
+“Yes,” said the rat-faced man.
+
+“Do you know anything in the office that has to do with sabotage?”
+ demanded Guffey of Peter.
+
+And Peter thought. “No, I don’t,” he said.
+
+They talked among themselves for a minute or two. The Chief said
+they had got all McCormick’s things out of his room, and might find
+some clue to the mystery in these. Guffey went to the telephone, and
+gave a number with which Peter was familiar--that of I. W. W.
+headquarters. “That you, Al?” he said. “We’re trying to find if
+there’s something in those rooms that has to do with sabotage. Have
+you found anything--any apparatus or pictures, or writing--anything?”
+ Evidently the answer was in the negative, for Guffey said: “Go
+ahead, look farther; if you get anything, call me at the chief’s
+office quick. It may give us a lead.”
+
+Then Guffey hung up the receiver and turned to Peter. “Now Gudge,”
+ he said, “that’s all your story, is it; that’s all you got to tell
+us?”
+
+“Yes, sir.”
+
+“Well then, you might as well quit your fooling right away. We
+understand that you framed this thing up, and we’re not going to be
+taken in.”
+
+Peter stared at Guffey, speechless; and Guffey, for his part, took a
+couple of steps toward Peter, his brows gathering into a terrible
+frown, and his fists clenched. In a wave of sickening horror Peter
+remembered the scenes after the Preparedness Day explosion. Were
+they going to put him thru that again?
+
+“We’ll have a show-down, Gudge, right here,” the head detective
+continued. “You tell us all this stuff about Angell--his talk with
+Jerry Rudd, and his pockets stuffed with bombs and all the rest of
+it--and he denies every word of it.”
+
+“But, m-m-my God! Mr. Guffey,” gasped Peter. “Of _course_ he’ll deny
+it!” Peter could hardly believe his ears--that they were taking
+seriously the denial of a dynamiter, and quoting it to him!
+
+“Yes, Gudge,” responded Guffey, “but you might as well know the
+truth now as later--Angell is one of our men; we’ve had him planted
+on these `wobblies’ for the last year.”
+
+The bottom fell out of Peter’s world; Peter went tumbling heels over
+head--down, down into infinite abysses of horror and despair. Joe
+Angell was a secret agent like himself! The Blue-eyed Angell, who
+talked dynamite and assassination at a hundred radical gatherings,
+who shocked the boldest revolutionists by his reckless
+language--Angell a spy, and Peter had proceeded to plant a
+“frame-up” on him!
+
+
+
+
+Section 47
+
+
+It was all up with Peter. He would go back into the hole! He would
+be tortured for the balance of his days! In his ears rang the
+shrieks of ten thousand lost souls and the clang of ten thousand
+trumpets of doom; and yet, in the midst of all the noise and
+confusion, Peter managed somehow to hear the voice of Nell,
+whispering over and over again: “Stick it out, Peter; stick it out!”
+
+He flung out his hands and started toward his accuser. “Mr. Guffey,
+as God is my witness, I don’t know a thing about it but what I’ve
+told you. That’s what happened, and if Joe Angell tells you anything
+different he’s lying.”
+
+“But why should he lie?”
+
+“I don’t know why; I don’t know anything about it!”
+
+Here was where Peter reaped the advantage of his lifelong training
+as an intriguer. In the midst of all his fright and his despair,
+Peter’s subconscious mind was working, thinking of schemes. “Maybe
+Angell was framing something up on you! Maybe he was fixing some
+plan of his own, and I come along and spoiled it; I sprung it too
+soon. But I tell you it’s straight goods I’ve given you.” And
+Peter’s very anguish gave him the vehemence to check Guffey’s
+certainty. As he rushed on, Peter could read in the eyes of the
+detective that he wasn’t really as sure as he talked.
+
+“Did you see that suit-case?” he demanded.
+
+“No, I didn’t see no suit-case!” answered Peter. “I don’t even know
+if there was a suit-case. I only know I heard Joe Angell say
+`suit-case,’ and I heard him say `dynamite.’”
+
+“Did you see anybody writing anything in the place?”
+
+“No, I didn’t,” said Peter. “But I seen Henderson sitting at the
+table working at some papers he had in his pocket, and I seen him
+tear something up and throw it into the trash-basket.” Peter saw the
+others look at one another, and he knew that he was beginning to
+make headway.
+
+A moment later came a diversion that helped to save him. The
+telephone rang, and the Chief of Police answered and nodded to
+Guffey, who came and took the receiver. “A book?” he cried, with
+excitement in his tone. “What sort of a plan? Well, tell one of your
+men to take the car and bring that book and the plan here to the
+chief’s office as quick as he can move; don’t lose a moment,
+everything may depend on it.”
+
+And then Guffey turned to the others. “He says they found a book on
+sabotage in the book-case, and in it there’s some kind of a drawing
+of a house. The book has McCormick’s name in it.”
+
+There were many exclamations over this, and Peter had time to think
+before the company turned upon him again. The Chief of Police now
+questioned him, and then the deputy of the district attorney
+questioned him; still he stuck to his story. “My God!” he cried.
+“Would you think I’d be mad enough to frame up a job like this?
+Where’d I get all that stuff? Where’d I get that dynamite?”--Peter
+almost bit off his tongue as he realized the dreadful slip he had
+made. No one had ever told him that the suit-case actually contained
+dynamite! How had he known there was dynamite in it? He was
+desperately trying to think of some way he could have heard; but, as
+it happened, no one of the five men caught him up. They all knew
+that there was dynamite in the suit-case; they knew it with
+overwhelming and tremendous certainty, and they overlooked entirely
+the fact that Peter wasn’t supposed to know it. So close to the edge
+of ruin can a man come and yet escape!
+
+Peter made haste to get away from that danger-spot. “Does Joe Angell
+deny that he was whispering to Jerry Rudd?”
+
+“He doesn’t remember that,” said Guffey. “He may have talked with
+him apart, but nothing special, there wasn’t any conspiracy.”
+
+“Does he deny that he talked about dynamite?”
+
+“They may have talked about it in the general discussion, but he
+didn’t whisper anything.”
+
+“But I heard him!” cried Peter, whose quick wits had thought up a
+way of escape, “I know what I heard! It was just before they were
+leaving, and somebody had turned out some of the lights. He was
+standing with his back to me, and I went over to the book-case right
+behind him.”
+
+Here the deputy district attorney put in. He was a young man, a
+trifle easier to fool than the others. “Are you sure it was Joe
+Angell?” he demanded.
+
+“My God! Of course it was!” said Peter. “I couldn’t have been
+mistaken.” But he let his voice die away, and a note of bewilderment
+be heard in it.
+
+“You say he was whispering?”
+
+“Yes, he was whispering.”
+
+“But mightn’t it have been somebody else?”
+
+“Why, I don’t know what to say,” said Peter. “I thought for sure it
+was Joe Angell; but I had my back turned, I’d been talking to Grady,
+the secretary, and then I turned around and moved over to the
+book-case.”
+
+“How many men were there in the room?”
+
+“About twenty, I guess.”
+
+“Were the lights turned off before you turned around, or after?”
+
+“I don’t remember that; it might have been after.” And suddenly poor
+bewildered Peter cried: “It makes me feel like a fool. Of course I
+ought to have talked to the fellow, and made sure it was Joe Angell
+before I turned away again; but I thought sure it was him. The idea
+it could be anybody else never crossed my mind.”
+
+“But you’re sure it was Jerry Rudd that was talking to him?”
+
+“Yes, it was Jerry Rudd, because his face was toward me.”
+
+“Was it Rudd or was it the other fellow that made the reply about
+the `sab-cat’?” And then Peter was bewildered and tied himself up,
+and led them into a long process of cross-questioning; and in the
+middle of it came the detective, bringing the book on sabotage with
+McCormick’s name written in the fly-leaf, and with the ground plan
+of a house between the pages.
+
+They all crowded around to look at the plan, and the idea occurred
+to several of them at once: Could it be Nelse Ackerman’s house? The
+Chief of Police turned to his phone, and called up the great
+banker’s secretary. Would he please describe Mr. Ackerman’s house;
+and the chief listened to the description. “There’s a cross mark on
+this plan--the north side of the house, a little to the west of the
+center. What could that be?” Then, “My God!” And then, “Will you
+come down here to my office right away and bring the architect’s
+plan of the house so we can compare them?” The Chief turned to the
+others, and said, “That cross mark in the house is the sleeping
+porch on the second floor where Mr. Ackerman sleeps!”
+
+So then they forgot for a while their doubts about Peter. It was
+fascinating, this work of tracing out the details of the conspiracy,
+and fitting them together like a picture puzzle. It seemed quite
+certain to all of them that this insignificant and scared little man
+whom they had been examining could never have prepared so ingenious
+and intricate a design. No, it must really be that some master mind,
+some devilish intriguer was at work to spread red ruin in American
+City!
+
+
+
+
+Section 48
+
+
+They dismissed Peter for the present, sending him back to his cell.
+He stayed there for two days with no one to advise him, and no hint
+as to his fate. They did not allow newspapers in the jail, but they
+had left Peter his money, and so on the second day he succeeded in
+bribing one of his keepers and obtaining a copy of the American City
+“Times,” with all the details of the amazing sensation spread out on
+the front page.
+
+For thirty years the “Times” had been standing for law and order
+against all the forces of red riot and revolution; for thirty years
+the “Times” had been declaring that labor leaders and walking
+delegates and Socialists and Anarchists were all one and the same
+thing, and all placed their reliance fundamentally upon one
+instrument, the dynamite bomb. Here at last the “Times” was
+vindicated, this was the “Times” great day! They had made the most
+of it, not merely on the front page, but on two other pages, with
+pictures of all the conspicuous conspirators, including Peter, and
+pictures of the I. W. W. headquarters, and the suit-case, and the
+sticks of dynamite and the fuses and the clock; also of the “studio”
+ in which the Reds had been trapped, and of Nikitin, the Russian
+anarchist who owned this den. Also there were columns of speculation
+about the case, signed statements and interviews with leading
+clergymen and bankers, the president of the Chamber of Commerce and
+the secretary of the Real Estate Exchange. Also there was a
+two-column, double-leaded editorial, pointing out how the “Times”
+ had been saying this for thirty years, and not failing to connect up
+the case with the Goober case, and the Lackman case, and the case of
+three pacifist clergymen who had been arrested several days before
+for attempting to read the Sermon on the Mount at a public meeting.
+
+And Peter knew that he, Peter Gudge, had done all this! The forces
+of law and order owed it all to one obscure little secret service
+agent! Peter would get no credit, of course; the Chief of Police and
+the district attorney were issuing solemn statements, taking the
+honors to themselves, and with never one hint that they owed
+anything to the secret service department of the Traction Trust.
+That was necessary, of course; for the sake of appearances it had to
+be pretended that the public authorities were doing the work,
+exercising their legal functions in due and regular form. It would
+never do to have the mob suspect that these activities were being
+financed and directed by the big business interests of the city. But
+all the same, it made Peter sore! He and McGivney and the rest of
+Guffey’s men had a contempt for the public officials, whom they
+regarded as “pikers”; the officials had very little money to spend,
+and very little power. If you really wanted to get anything done in
+America, you didn’t go to any public official, you went to the big
+men of affairs, the ones who had the “stuff,” and were used to doing
+things quickly and efficiently. It was the same in this business of
+spying as in everything else.
+
+Now and then Peter would realize how close he had come to ghastly
+ruin. He would have qualms of terror, picturing himself shut up in
+the hole, and Guffey proceeding to torture the truth out of him. But
+he was able to calm these fears. He was sure this dynamite
+conspiracy would prove too big a temptation for the authorities; it
+would sweep them away in spite of themselves. They would have to go
+thru with it, they would have to stand by Peter.
+
+And sure enough, on the evening of the second day a jailer came and
+said: “You’re to be let out.” And Peter was ushered thru the barred
+doors and turned loose without another word.
+
+
+
+
+Section 49
+
+
+Peter went to Room 427 of the American House and there was McGivney
+waiting for him. McGivney said nothing about any suspicion of Peter,
+nor did Peter say anything--he understood that by-gones were to be
+by-gones. The authorities were going to take this gift which the
+fates had handed to them on a silver platter. For years they had
+been wanting to get these Reds, and now magically and incredibly,
+they had got them!
+
+“Now, Gudge,” said McGivney, “here’s your story. You’ve been
+arrested on suspicion, you’ve been cross-questioned and put thru the
+third degree, but you succeeded in satisfying the police that you
+didn’t know anything about it, and they’ve released you. We’ve
+released a couple of others at the same time, so’s to cover you all
+right; and now you’re to go back and find out all you can about the
+Reds, and what they’re doing, and what they’re planning. They’re
+shouting, of course, that this is a `frame-up.’ You must find out
+what they know. You must be careful, of course--watch every step you
+take, because they’ll be suspicious for a while. We’ve been to your
+room and turned things upside down a bit, so that will help to make
+it look all right.”
+
+Peter sallied forth; but he did not go to see the Reds immediately.
+He spent an hour dodging about the city to make sure no one was
+shadowing him; then he called up Nell at a telephone number she had
+given him, and an hour later they met in the park, and she flew to
+his arms and kissed him with rapturous delight. He had to tell her
+everything, of course; and when she learned that Joe Angell was a
+secret agent, she first stared at him in horror, and then she
+laughed until she almost cried. When Peter told how he had met that
+situation and got away with it, for the first time he was sure that
+he had won her love.
+
+“Now, Peter,” she said, when they were calm again, we’ve got to get
+action at once. The papers are full of it, and old Nelse Ackerman
+must be scared out of his life. Here’s a letter I’m going to mail
+tonight--you notice I’ve used a different typewriter from the one I
+used last time. I went into a typewriter store, and paid them to let
+me use one for a few minutes, so they can never trace this letter to
+me.
+
+The letter was addressed to Nelson Ackerman at his home, and marked
+“Personal.” Peter read:
+
+“This is a message from a friend. The Reds had an agent in your
+home. They drew a plan of your house. The police are hiding things
+from you, because they can’t get the truth, and don’t want you to
+know they are incompetent. There is a man who discovered all this
+plot, and you should see him. They won’t let you see him if they can
+help it. You should demand to see him. But do not mention this
+letter. If you do not get to the right man, I will write you again.
+If you keep this a secret, you may trust me to help you to the end.
+If you tell anybody, I will be unable to help you.”
+
+“Now,” said Nell, “when he gets that letter he’ll get busy, and
+you’ve got to know what to do, because of course everything depends
+on that.” So Nell proceeded to drill Peter for his meeting with the
+King of American City. Peter now stood in such awe of her judgment
+that he learned his lessons quite patiently, and promised solemnly
+that he would do exactly what she said and nothing else. He reaped
+his reward of kisses, and went home to sleep the sleep of the just.
+
+Next morning Peter set out to do some of his work for McGivney, so
+that McGivney would have no ground for complaint. He went to see
+Miriam Yankovich, and this time Miriam caught him by his two hands
+and wrung them, and Peter knew that he had atoned for his crime
+against little Jennie. Peter was a martyr once more. He told how he
+had been put thru the third degree; and she told how the water from
+the washtub had leaked thru the ceiling, and the plaster had fallen,
+and ruined the dinner of a poor workingman’s family.
+
+Also, she told him all about the frame-up as the Reds saw it.
+Andrews, the lawyer, was demanding the right to see the prisoners,
+but this was refused, and they were all being held without bail. On
+the previous evening Miriam had attended a gathering at Andrews’
+home, at which the case was talked out. All the I. W. W.’s declared
+that the thing was the rankest kind of frame-up; the notes were
+obviously fake, and the dynamite had undoubtedly been planted by the
+police. They had used it as a pretext to shut up the I. W. W.
+headquarters, and to arrest a score of radicals. Worst of all, of
+course, was the propaganda; the hideous stories with which they were
+filling the papers. Had Peter seen this morning’s “Times?” A
+perfectly unmistakable incitement to mobs to gather and lynch the
+Reds!
+
+
+
+
+Section 50
+
+
+From Miriam’s, Peter went back to Room 427. It was Nell’s idea that
+Nelse Ackerman would not lose a minute next morning; and sure
+enough, Peter found a note on the dressing-table: “Wait for me, I
+want to see you.”
+
+Peter waited, and before long McGivney came in and sat down in front
+of him, and began very solemnly: “Now Peter Gudge, you know I’m your
+friend.”
+
+“Yes, of course.”
+
+“I’ve stood by you,” said McGivney. “If it hadn’t been for me, the
+boss would have had you in the hole right now, trying to sweat you
+into confessing you planted that dynamite. I want you to know that,
+and I want you to know that I’m going to stand by you, and I expect
+you to stand by me and give me a square deal.”
+
+“Why, sure!” said Peter. “What is it?” Then McGivney proceeded to
+explain: Old Nelse Ackerman had got the idea that the police were
+holding back something from him. He was scared out of his wits about
+this case, of course. He had himself shut up in a cupboard at night,
+and made his wife pull down the curtains of her limousine when she
+went driving. And now he was insisting that he must have a talk with
+the man who had discovered this plot against him. McGivney hated to
+take the risk of having Peter become acquainted with anybody, but
+Nelse Ackerman was a man whose word was law. Really, he was Peter’s
+employer; he had put up a lot of the money for the secret service
+work which Guffey was conducting, and neither Guffey or any of the
+city authorities dared try to fool him.
+
+“Well, that’s all right,” said Peter; “it won’t hurt for me to see
+him.”
+
+“He’s going to question you about this case,” said McGivney. “He’s
+going to try to find out everything he can. So you got to protect
+us; you got to make him understand that we’ve done everything
+possible. You got to put us right with him.”
+
+Peter promised solemnly he would do so; but McGivney wasn’t
+satisfied. He was in a state of trepidation, and proceeded to hammer
+and hammer at Peter, impressing upon him the importance of
+solidarity, of keeping faith with his fellows. It sounded exactly
+like some of the I. W. W.’s talking among themselves!
+
+“You may think, here’s a chance to jump on us and climb out on top,
+but don’t you forget it, Peter Gudge, we’ve got a machine, and in
+the long run it’s the machine that wins. We’ve broken many a fellow
+that’s tried to play tricks on us, and we’ll break you. Old Nelse
+will get what he wants out of you; he’ll offer you a big price, no
+doubt--but before long he’ll be thru with you, and then you’ll come
+back to us, and I give you fair warning, by God, if you play us
+dirty, Guffey will have you in the hole in a month or two, and
+you’ll come out on a stretcher.”
+
+So Peter pledged his faith again; but, seeing his chance, he added:
+“Don’t you think Mr. Guffey ought to do something for me, because of
+that plot I discovered?”
+
+“Yes, I think that,” said McGivney; “that’s only fair.”
+
+And so they proceeded to bargain. Peter pointed out all the dangers
+he had run, and all the credit which the others had got. Guffey
+hadn’t got credit in the papers, but he had got it with his
+employers, all right, and he would get still more if Peter stood by
+him with the king of American City. Peter said it ought to be worth
+a thousand dollars, and he said he ought to have it right away,
+before he went to see the king. At which Guffey scowled ferociously.
+“Look here, Gudge! you got the nerve to charge us such a price for
+standing by your frame-up?”
+
+McGivney generally treated Peter as a coward and a feeble bluffer;
+but he had learned also that there was one time when the little man
+completely changed his nature, and that was when it was a question
+of getting hold of some cash. That was the question now; and Peter
+met McGivney scowl for scowl. “If you don’t like my frame-up,” he
+snarled, “you go kick to the newspapers about it!”
+
+Peter was the bulldog again, and had got his teeth in the other
+bulldog’s nose, and he hung right there. He had seen the rat-faced
+man pull money out of his clothes before this, and he knew that this
+time, above all other times, McGivney would come prepared. So he
+insisted--a thousand or nothing; and as before, his heart went down
+into his boots when McGivney produced his wad, and revealed that
+there was more in the wad than Peter had demanded!
+
+However, Peter consoled himself with the reflection that a thousand
+dollars was a tidy sum of money, and he set out for the home of
+Nelse Ackerman in a jovial frame of mind. Incidentally he decided
+that it might be the part of wisdom not to say anything to Nell
+about this extra thousand. When women found out that you had money,
+they’d never rest till they had got every cent of it, or at least
+had made you spend it on them!
+
+
+
+
+Section 51
+
+
+Nelse Ackerman’s home was far out in the suburbs of the city, upon a
+knoll surrounded by forest. It was a couple of miles from the
+nearest trolley line, which forced Peter to take a hot walk in the
+sun. Apparently the great banker, in selecting the site of his
+residence, had never once thought that anybody might want to get to
+it without an automobile. Peter reflected as he walked that if he
+continued to move in these higher circles, he too would have to join
+the motor-driving class.
+
+About the estate there ran a great bronze fence, ten feet high, with
+sharp, inhospitable spikes pointing outwards. Peter had read about
+this fence a long time ago in the American City “Times”; it was so
+and so many thousand yards long, and had so and so many spikes, and
+had cost so and so many tens of thousands of dollars. There were big
+bronze gates locked tight, and a sign that said: “Beware the dogs!”
+ Inside the gates were three guards carrying rifles and walking up
+and down; they were a consequence of the recent dynamite conspiracy,
+but Peter did not realize this, he took them for a regular
+institution, and a symbol of the importance of the man he was to
+visit.
+
+He pressed a button by the side of the gate, and a lodgekeeper came
+out, and Peter, according to orders, gave the name “Arthur G.
+McGillicuddy.” The lodge-keeper went inside and telephoned, and then
+came back and opened the gate, just enough to admit Peter. “You’re
+to be searched,” said the lodge-keeper; and Peter, who had been
+arrested many times, took no offense at this procedure, but found it
+one more evidence of the importance of Nelse Ackerman. The guards
+went thru his pockets, and felt him all over, and then one of them
+marched him up the long gravel avenue thru the forest, climbed a
+flight of marble steps to the palace on the knoll, and turned him
+over to a Chinese butler who walked on padded slippers.
+
+If Peter had not known that this was a private home he would have
+thought it was an art gallery. There were great marble columns, and
+paintings bigger than Peter, and tapestries with life-size horses;
+there were men in armor, and battle axes and Japanese dancing
+devils, and many other strange sights. Ordinarily Peter would have
+been interested in learning how a great millionaire decorated his
+house, and would have drunk deep of the joy of being amid such
+luxury. But now all his thoughts were taken up with his dangerous
+business. Nell had told him what to look for, and he looked.
+Mounting the velvet-carpeted staircase, he noted a curtain behind
+which a man might hide, and a painting of a Spanish cavalier on the
+wall just opposite. He would make use of these two sights.
+
+They went down a hall, like a corridor in the Hotel de Soto, and at
+the end of it the butler tapped softly upon a door, and Peter was
+ushered into a big apartment in semi-darkness. The butler retired
+without a sound, closing the door behind him and Peter stood
+hesitating, looking about to get his bearings. From the other side
+of the room he heard three faint coughs, suggesting a sick man.
+There was a four-poster bed of some dark wood, with a canopy over it
+and draperies at the side, and a man in the bed, sitting propped up
+with pillows. There were more coughs, and then a faint whisper,
+“This way.” So Peter crossed over and stood about ten feet from the
+bed, holding his hat in his hands; he was not able to see very much
+of the occupant of the bed, nor was he sure it would be respectful
+for him to try to see.
+
+“So you’re--(cough) what’s your name?”
+
+“Gudge,” said Peter.
+
+“You are the man--(cough) that knows about the Reds?”
+
+“Yes, sir.”
+
+The occupant of the bed coughed every two or three minutes thru the
+conversation that followed, and each time Peter noticed that he put
+his hand up to his mouth as if he were ashamed of the noise.
+Gradually Peter got used to the twilight, and could see that Nelse
+Ackerman was an old man with puffy, droopy cheeks and chin, and dark
+puffy crescents under his eyes. He was quite bald, and had on his
+head a skull cap of embroidered black silk, and a short, embroidered
+jacket over his night shirt. Beside the bed stood a table covered
+with glasses and bottles and pill-boxes, and also a telephone. Every
+few minutes this telephone would ring, and Peter would wait
+patiently while Mr. Ackerman settled some complex problem of
+business. “I’ve told them my terms,” he would say with irritation,
+and then he would cough; and Peter, who was sharply watching every
+detail of the conduct of the rich, noted that he was too polite even
+to cough into the telephone. “If they will pay a hundred and
+twenty-five thousand dollars on account, I will wait, but not a cent
+less,” Nelse Ackerman would say. And Peter, awe-stricken, realized
+that he had now reached the very top of Mount Olympus, he was at the
+highest point he could hope to reach until he went to heaven.
+
+The old man fixed his dark eyes on his visitor. “Who wrote me that
+letter?” whispered the husky voice.
+
+Peter had been expecting this. “What letter, sir?”
+
+“A letter telling me to see you.”
+
+“I don’t know anything about it, sir.”
+
+“You mean--(cough) you didn’t write me an anonynious letter?”
+
+“No, sir, I didn’t.”
+
+“Then some friend of yours must have written it.”
+
+“I dunno that. It might have been some enemy of the police.”
+
+“Well, now, what’s this about the Reds having an agent in my home?”
+
+“Did the letter say that?”
+
+“It did.”
+
+“Well, sir, that’s putting it too strong. I ain’t sure, it’s just an
+idea I’ve had. It’ll need a lot of explaining.”
+
+“You’re the man who discovered this plot, I understand?”
+
+“Yes, sir.”
+
+“Well, take a chair, there,” said the banker. There was a chair near
+the bedside, but it seemed to Peter too close to be respectful, so
+he pulled it a little farther away, and sat down on the front six
+inches of it, still holding his hat in his hands and twisting it
+nervously. “Put down that hat,” said the old man, irritably. So
+Peter stuck the hat under his chair, and said: “I beg pardon, sir.”
+
+
+
+
+Section 52
+
+
+The old plutocrat was feeble and sick, but his mind was all there,
+and his eyes seemed to be boring Peter through. Peter realized that
+he would have to be very careful--the least little slip would be
+fatal here.
+
+“Now, Gudge,” the old man began, “I want you to tell me all about
+it. To begin with, how did you come to be among these Reds? Begin at
+the beginning.”
+
+So Peter told how he had happened to get interested in the radical
+movement, laying particular stress upon the dangerousness of these
+Reds, and his own loyalty to the class which stood for order and
+progress and culture in the country. “It ought to be stopped, Mr.
+Ackerman!” he exclaimed, with a fine show of feeling; and the old
+banker nodded. Yes, yes, it ought to be stopped!
+
+“Well,” said Peter, “I said to myself, `I’m going to find out about
+them fellows.’ I went to their meetings, and little by little I
+pretended to get converted, and I tell you, Mr. Ackerman, our police
+are asleep; they don’t know what these agitators are doing, what
+they’re preaching. They don’t know what a hold they’ve got on the
+mobs of the discontented!”
+
+Peter went on to tell in detail about the propaganda of social
+revolution, and about conspiracies against law and order, and the
+property and even the lives of the rich. Peter noticed that when the
+old man took a sip of water his hand trembled so that he could
+hardly keep the water from spilling; and presently, when the phone
+rang again, his voice became shrill and imperious. “I understand
+they’re applying for bail for those men. Now Angus, that’s an
+outrage! We’ll not hear to anything like that! I want you to see the
+judge at once, and make absolutely certain that those men are held
+in jail.”
+
+Then again the old banker had a coughing fit. “Now, Gudge,” he said,
+“I know more or less about all that. What I want to know is about
+this conspiracy against me. Tell me how you came to find out about
+it.”
+
+And Peter told; but of course he embellished it, in so far as it
+related to Mr. Ackerman--these fellows were talking about Mr.
+Ackerman all the time, they had a special grudge against him.
+
+“But why?” cried the old man. “Why?”
+
+“They think you’re fighting them, Mr. Ackerman.”
+
+“But I’m not! That’s not true!”
+
+“Well, they say you put up money to hang Goober. They call
+you--you’ll excuse me?”
+
+“Yes, yes, of course.”
+
+“They call you the `head money devil.’ They call you the financial
+king of American City.”
+
+“King!” cried the banker. “What rubbish! Why, Gudge, that’s fool
+newspaper talk! I’m a poor man today. There are two dozen men in
+this city richer than I am, and who have more power. Why--” But the
+old man fell to coughing and became so exhausted that he sank back
+into his pillows until he recovered his breath. Peter waited
+respectfully; but of course he wasn’t fooled. Peter had carried on
+bargaining many times in his life, and had heard people proclaim
+their poverty and impotence.
+
+“Now, Gudge,” the old man resumed. “I don’t want to be killed; I
+tell you I don’t want to be killed.”
+
+“No, of course not,” said Peter. It was perfectly comprehensible to
+him that Mr. Ackerman didn’t want to be killed. But Mr. Ackerman
+seemed to think it necessary to impress the idea upon him; in the
+course of the conversation he came back to it a number of times, and
+each time he said it with the same solemn assurance, as if it were a
+brand new idea, and a very unusual and startling idea. “I don’t want
+to be killed, Gudge; I tell you I don’t want to let those fellows
+get me. No, no; we’ve got to circumvent them, we’ve got to take
+precautions--every precaution--I tell you every possible
+precaution.”
+
+“I’m here for that purpose, Mr. Ackerman,” said Peter, solemnly.
+“I’ll do everything. We’ll do everything, I’m sure.”
+
+“What’s this about the police?” demanded the banker. “What’s this
+about Guffey’s bureau? You say they’re not competent?”
+
+“Well now, I’ll tell you, Mr. Ackerman,” said Peter, “It’s a little
+embarrassing. You see, they employ me--”
+
+“Nonsense!” exclaimed the other. “_I_ employ you! I’m putting up the
+money for this work, and I want the facts!--I want them all.”
+
+“Well,” said Peter, “they’ve been very decent to me--”
+
+“I say tell me everything!” exclaimed the old man. He was a most
+irritable old man, and couldn’t stand for a minute not having what
+he asked for. “What’s the matter with them?”
+
+Peter answered, as humbly as he could: “I could tell you a great
+deal that’d be of use to you, Mr. Ackerman, but you got to keep it
+between you and me.”
+
+“All right!” said the other, quickly. “What is it?”
+
+“If you give a hint of it to anybody else,” persisted Peter, “then
+I’ll get fired.”
+
+“You’ll not get fired, I’ll see to that. If necessary I’ll hire you
+direct.”
+
+“Ah, but you don’t understand, Mr. Ackerman. It’s a machine, and you
+can’t run against it; you gotta understand it, you gotta handle it
+right. I’d like to help you, and I know I can help you, but you
+gotta let me explain it, and you gotta understand some things.”
+
+“All right,” said the old man. “Go ahead, what is it?”
+
+“Now,” said Peter, “it’s like this. These police and all these
+fellows mean well, but they don’t understand; it’s too complicated,
+they ain’t been in this movement long enough. They’re used to
+dealing with criminals; but these Reds, you see, are cranks.
+Criminals ain’t organized, at least they don’t stand together; but
+these Reds do, and if you fight ‘em, they fight back, and they make
+what they call `propaganda.’ And that propaganda is dangerous--if
+you make a wrong move, you may find you’ve made ‘em stronger than
+they were before.”
+
+“Yes, I see that,” said the old man. “Well?”
+
+“Then again, the police dunno how dangerous they are. You try to
+tell them things, they won’t really believe you. I’ve known for a
+long time there was a group of these people getting together to kill
+off all the rich men, the big men all over the country. They’ve been
+spying on these rich men, getting ready to kill them. They know a
+lot about them that you can’t explain their knowing. That’s how I
+got the idea they had somebody in your house, Mr. Ackerman.”
+
+“Tell me what you mean. Tell me at once.”
+
+“Well, sir, every once in a while I pick up scraps of conversation.
+One day I heard Mac--”
+
+“Mac?”
+
+“That’s McCormick, the one who’s in jail. He’s an I. W. W. leader,
+and I think the most dangerous of all. I heard him whispering to
+another fellow, and it scared me, because it had to do with killing
+a rich man. He’d been watching this rich man, and said he was going
+to shoot him down right in his own house! I didn’t hear the name of
+the man--I walked away, because I didn’t want him to think I was
+trying to listen in. They’re awful suspicious, these fellows; if you
+watch Mac you see him looking around over his shoulder every minute
+or two. So I strolled off, and then I strolled back again, and he
+was laughing about something, and I heard him say these words; I
+heard him say, `I was hiding behind the curtain, and there was a
+Spanish fellow painted on the wall, and every time I peeked out that
+bugger was looking at me, and I wondered if he wasn’t going to give
+me away.’”
+
+And Peter stopped. His eyes had got used to the twilight now, and he
+could see the old banker’s eyes starting out from the crescents of
+dark, puffy flesh underneath. “My God!” whispered Nelse Ackerman.
+
+“Now, that was all I heard,” said Peter. “And I didn’t know what it
+meant. But when I learned about that drawing that Mac had made of
+your house, I thought to myself, Jesus, I bet that was Mr. Ackerman
+he was waiting to shoot!”
+
+“Good God! Good God!” whispered the old man; and his trembling
+fingers pulled at the embroidery on the coverlet. The telephone
+rang, and he took up the receiver, and told somebody he was too busy
+now to talk; they would have to call him later. He had another
+coughing spell, so that Peter thought he was going to choke, and had
+to help him get some medicine down his throat. Peter was a little
+bit shocked to see such obvious and abject fear in one of the gods.
+After all, they were just men, these Olympians, as much subject to
+pain and death as Peter Gudge himself!
+
+Also Peter was surprised to find how “easy” Mr. Ackerman was. He
+made no lofty pretence of being indifferent to the Reds. He put
+himself at Peter’s mercy, to be milked at Peter’s convenience. And
+Peter would make the most of this opportunity.
+
+“Now, Mr. Ackerman,” he began, “You can see it wouldn’t be any use
+to tell things like that to the police. They dunno how to handle
+such a situation; the honest truth is, they don’t take these Reds
+serious. They’ll spend ten times as much money to catch a plain
+burglar as they will to watch a whole gang like this.”
+
+“How can they have got into my home?” cried the old man.
+
+“They get in by ways you’d never dream of, Mr. Ackerman. They have
+people who agree with them. Why, you got no idea, there’s some
+preachers that are Reds, and some college teachers, and some rich
+men like yourself.”
+
+“I know, I know,” said Ackerman. “But surely--”
+
+“How can you tell? You may have a traitor right in your own family.”
+
+So Peter went on, spreading the Red Terror in the soul of this old
+millionaire who did not want to be killed. He said again that he did
+not want to be killed, and explained his reluctance in some detail.
+So many people were dependent upon him for their livings, Peter
+could have no conception of it! There were probably a hundred
+thousand men with their families right here in American City, whose
+jobs depended upon plans which Ackerman was carrying, and which
+nobody but Ackerman could possibly carry. Widows and orphans looked
+to him for protection of their funds; a vast net-work of
+responsibilities required his daily, even his hourly decisions. And
+sure enough, the telephone rang, and Peter heard Nelse Ackerman
+declare that the Amalgamated Securities Company would have to put
+off a decision about its dividends until tomorrow, because he was
+too busy to sign certain papers just then. He hung up the receiver
+and said: “You see, you see! I tell you, Gudge, we must not let them
+get me!”
+
+
+
+
+Section 53
+
+
+They came down to the question of practical plans, and Peter was
+ready with suggestions. In the first place, Mr. Ackerman must give
+no hint either to the police authorities or to Guffey that he was
+dissatisfied with their efforts. He must simply provide for an
+interview with Peter now and then, and he and Peter, quite
+privately, must take certain steps to get Mr. Ackerman that
+protection which his importance to the community made necessary. The
+first thing was to find out whether or not there was a traitor in
+Mr. Ackerman’s home, and for that purpose there must be a spy, a
+first-class detective working in some capacity or other. The only
+trouble was, there were so few detectives you could trust; they were
+nearly all scoundrels, and if they weren’t scoundrels, it was
+because they didn’t have sense enough to be--they were boobs, and
+any Red could see thru them in five minutes.
+
+“But I tell you,” said Peter, “what I’ve thought. I’ve got a wife
+that’s a wonder, and just now while we were talking about it, I
+thought, if I could only get Edythe in here for a few days, I’d find
+out everything about all the people in your home, your relatives as
+well as your servants.”
+
+“Is she a professional detective?” asked the banker.
+
+“Why no, sir,” said Peter. “She was an actress, her name was Edythe
+Eustace; perhaps you might have heard of her on the stage.”
+
+“No, I’m too busy for the theatre,” said Mr. Ackerman.
+
+“Of course,” said Peter. “Well, I dunno whether she’d be willing to
+do it; she don’t like having me mix up with these Reds, and she’s
+been begging me to quit for a long time, and I’d just about promised
+her I would. But if I tell her about your trouble maybe she might,
+just as a favor.”
+
+But how could Peter’s wife be introduced into the Ackerman household
+without attracting suspicion? Peter raised this question, pointing
+out that his wife was a person of too high a social class to come as
+a servant. Mr. Ackerman added that he had nothing to do with
+engaging his servants, any more than with engaging the bookkeepers
+in his bank. It would look suspicious for him to make a suggestion
+to his housekeeper. But finally he remarked that he had a niece who
+sometimes came to visit him, and would come at once if requested,
+and would bring Edythe Eustace as her maid. Peter was sure that
+Edythe would be able to learn this part quickly, she had acted it
+many times on the stage, in fact, it had been her favorite role. Mr.
+Ackerman promised to get word to his niece, and have her meet Edythe
+at the Hotel de Soto that same afternoon.
+
+Then the old banker pledged his word most solemnly that he would not
+whisper a hint about this matter except to his niece. Peter was most
+urgent and emphatic; he specified that the police were not to be
+told, that no member of the household was to be told, not even Mr.
+Ackerman’s private secretary. After Mr. Ackerman had had this duly
+impressed upon him, he proceeded in turn to impress upon Peter the
+idea which he considered of most importance in the world: “I don’t
+want to be killed, Gudge, I tell you I don’t want to be killed!” And
+Peter solemnly promised to make it his business to listen to all
+conversations of the Reds in so far as they might bear upon Mr.
+Ackerman.
+
+When he rose to take his departure, Mr. Ackerman slipped his
+trembling fingers into the pocket of his jacket, and pulled out a
+crisp and shiny note. He unfolded it, and Peter saw that it was a
+five hundred dollar bill, fresh from the First National Bank of
+American City, of which Mr. Ackerman was chairman of the board of
+directors. “Here’s a little present for you, Gudge,” he said. “I
+want you to understand that if you protect me from these villains,
+I’ll see that you are well taken care of. From now on I want you to
+be my man.”
+
+“Yes, sir,” said Peter, “I’ll be it, sir. I thank you very much,
+sir.” And he thrust the bill into his pocket, and bowed himself step
+by step backwards toward the door. “You’re forgetting your hat,”
+ said the banker.
+
+“Why, yes,” said the trembling Peter, and he came forward again, and
+got his hat from under the chair, and bowed himself backward again.
+
+“And remember, Gudge,” said the old man, “I don’t want to be killed!
+I don’t want them to get me!”
+
+
+
+
+Section 54
+
+
+Peter’s first care when he got back into the city was to go to Mr.
+Ackerman’s bank and change that five hundred dollar bill. The
+cashier gazed at him sternly, and scrutinized the bill carefully,
+but he gave Peter five one hundred dollar bills without comment.
+Peter tucked three of them away in a safe hiding-place, and put the
+other two in his pocketbook, and went to keep his appointment with
+Nell.
+
+He told her all that had happened, and where she was to meet Mr.
+Ackerman’s niece. “What did he give you?” Nell demanded, at once,
+and when Peter produced the two bills, she exclaimed, “My God! the
+old skint-flint!” “He said there’d be more,” remarked Peter.
+
+“It didn’t cost him anything to say that,” was Nell’s answer. “We’ll
+have to put the screws on him.” Then she added, “You’d better let me
+take care of this money for you, Peter.”
+
+“Well,” said Peter, “I have to have some for my own expenses, you
+know.”
+
+“You’ve got your salary, haven’t you?”
+
+“Yes, that’s true, but--”
+
+“I can keep it safe for you,” said Nell, “and some day when you need
+it you’ll be glad to have it. You’ve never saved anything yourself;
+that’s a woman’s job.”
+
+Peter tried to haggle with her, but it wasn’t the same as haggling
+with McGivney; she looked at him with her melting glances, and it
+made Peter’s head swim, and automatically he put out his hand and
+let her take the two bills. Then she smiled, so tenderly that he
+made bold to remind her, “You know, Nell, you’re my wife now!”
+
+“Yes, yes,” she answered, “of course. But we’ve got to get rid of
+Ted Crothers somehow. He watches me all the time, and I have no end
+of trouble making excuses and getting away.”
+
+“How’re you’re going to get rid of him?” asked Peter, hungrily.
+
+“We’ll have to skip,” she answered; “just as soon as we have pulled
+off our new frame-up--”
+
+“Another one?” gasped Peter, in dismay.
+
+And the girl laughed. “You wait!” she said. “I’m going to pull some
+real money out of Nelse Ackerman this time! Then when we’ve made our
+killing, we’ll skip, and be fixed for life. You wait--and don’t talk
+love to me now, because my mind is all taken up with my plans, and I
+can’t think about anything else.”
+
+So they parted, and Peter went to see McGivney in the American
+House. “Stand up to him!” Nell had said. But it was not easy to do,
+for McGivney pulled and hauled him and turned him about, upside down
+and inside outwards, to know every single thing that had happened
+between him and Nelse Ackerman. Lord, how these fellows did hang on
+to their sources of graft! Peter repeated and insisted that he
+really had played entirely fair--he hadn’t told Nelse Ackerman a
+thing except just the truth as he had told it to Guffey and
+McGivney. He had said that the police were all right, and that
+Guffey’s bureau was stepping right on the tail of the Reds all the
+time.
+
+“And what does he want you to do?” demanded the rat-faced man.
+
+Peter answered, “He just wanted to make sure that he was learning
+everything of importance, and he wanted me to promise him that he
+would get every scrap of information that I collected about the plot
+against him; and of course I promised him that we’d bring it all to
+him.”
+
+“You going to see him any more?” demanded McGivney.
+
+“He didn’t say anything about that.”
+
+“Did he get your address?”
+
+“No, I suppose if he wants me he’ll let you know, the same as
+before.”
+
+“All right,” said McGivney. “Did he give you any money?”
+
+“Yes,” said Peter, “he gave me two hundred dollars, and he said
+there was plenty more where that came from, so that we’d work hard
+to help him. He said he didn’t want to get killed; he said that a
+couple of dozen times, I guess. He spent more time saying that than
+anything else. He’s sick, and he’s scared out of his wits.”
+
+So at last McGivney condescended to thank Peter for his
+faithfulness, and went on to give him further orders.
+
+The Reds were raising an awful howl. Andrews, the lawyer, had
+succeeded in getting a court order to see the arrested men, and of
+course the prisoners had all declared that the case was a put-up
+job. Now the Reds were preparing to send out a circular to their
+fellow Reds all over the country, appealing for publicity, and for
+funds to fight the “frame-up.”
+
+They were very secret about it, and McGivney wanted to know where
+they were getting their money. He wanted a copy of the circular they
+were printing, and to know where and when the circulars were to be
+mailed. Guffey had been to see the post office authorities, and they
+were going to confiscate the circulars and destroy them all without
+letting the Reds know it.
+
+Peter rubbed his hands with glee. That was the real business! That
+was going after these criminals in the way Peter had been urging!
+The rat-faced man answered that it was nothing to what they were
+going to do in a few days. Let Peter keep on his job, and he would
+see! Now, when the public was wrought up over this dynamite
+conspiracy, was the time to get things done.
+
+
+
+
+Section 55
+
+
+Peter took a street car to the home of Miriam Yankovitch, and on the
+way he read the afternoon edition of the American City “Times.” The
+editors of this paper were certainly after the Reds, and no mistake!
+They had taken McCormick’s book on Sabotage, just as Nell had
+predicted, and printed whole chapters from it, with the most
+menacing sentences in big type, and some boxed up in little frames
+and scattered here and there over the page so that no one could
+possibly miss them. They had a picture of McCormick taken in the
+jail; he hadn’t had a chance to shave for several days, and probably
+hadn’t felt pleasant about having his picture taken--anyhow, he
+looked ferocious enough to frighten the most skeptical, and Peter
+was confirmed in his opinion that Mac was the most dangerous Red of
+them all.
+
+Columns and columns of material this paper published about the case,
+subtly linking it up with all the other dynamitings and
+assassinations in American history, and with German spy plots and
+bomb plots. There was a nation-wide organization of these assassins,
+so the paper said; they published hundreds of papers, with millions
+of readers, all financed by German gold. Also, there was a
+double-leaded editorial calling on the citizens to arise and save
+the republic, and put an end to the Red menace once for all. Peter
+read this, and like every other good American, he believed every
+word that he read in his newspaper, and boiled with hatred of the
+Reds.
+
+He found Miriam Yankovitch away from home. Her mother was in a state
+of excitement, because Miriam had got word that the police were
+giving the prisoners the “third degree,” and she had gone to the
+offices of the Peoples’ Council to get the radicals together and try
+to take some immediate action. So Peter hurried over to these
+offices, where he found some twenty-five Reds and Pacifists
+assembled, all in the same state of excitement. Miriam was walking
+up and down the room, clasping and unclasping her hands, and her
+eyes looked as if she had been crying all day. Peter remembered his
+suspicion that Miriam and Mac were lovers. He questioned her. They
+had put Mac in the “hole,” and Henderson, the lumber-jack, was laid
+up in the hospital as a result of the ordeal he had undergone.
+
+The Jewish girl went into details, and Peter found himself
+shuddering--he had such a vivid memory of the third degree himself!
+He did not try to stop his shuddering, but took to pacing up and
+down the room like Miriam, and told them how it felt to have your
+wrists twisted and your fingers bent backward, and how damp and
+horrible it was in the “hole.” So he helped to work them into a
+state of hysteria, hoping that they would commit some overt action,
+as McGivney wanted. Why not storm the jail and set free the
+prisoners?
+
+Little Ada Ruth said that was nonsense; but might they not get
+banners, and parade up and down in front of the jail, protesting
+against this torturing of men who had not been convicted of any
+crime? The police would fall on them, of course, the crowds would
+mob them and probably tear them to pieces, but they must do
+something. Donald Gordon answered that this would only make them
+impotent to keep up the agitation. What they must try to get was a
+strike of labor. They must send telegrams to the radical press, and
+go out and raise money, and call a mass-meeting three days from
+date. Also, they must appeal to all the labor unions, and see if it
+was possible to work up sentiment for a general strike.
+
+Peter, somewhat disappointed, went back and reported to McGivney
+this rather tame outcome. But McGivney said that was all right, he
+had something that would fix them; and he revealed to Peter a
+startling bit of news. Peter had been reading in the papers about
+German spies, but he had only half taken it seriously; the war was a
+long way off, and Peter had never seen any of that German gold that
+they talked so much about--in fact, the Reds were in a state of
+perpetual poverty, one and all of them stinting himself eternally to
+put up some portion of his scant earnings to pay for pamphlets and
+circulars and postage and defence funds, and all the expenses of an
+active propaganda organization. But now, McGivney declared, there
+was a real, sure-enough agent of the Kaiser in American City! The
+government had pretty nearly got him in his nets, and one of the
+things McGivney wanted to do before the fellow was arrested was to
+get him to contribute some money to the radical cause.
+
+It wasn’t necessary to point out to Peter the importance of this. If
+the authorities could show that the agitation on behalf of McCormick
+and the rest had been financed by German money, the public would
+justify any measures taken to bring it to an end. Could Peter
+suggest to McGivney the name of a German Socialist who might be
+persuaded to approach this agent of the Kaiser, and get him to
+contribute money for the purpose of having a general strike called
+in American City? Several of the city’s big manufacturing plants
+were being made over for war purposes, and obviously the enemy had
+much to gain by strikes and labor discontent. Guffey’s men had been
+trying for a long time to get Germans to contribute to the Goober
+Defense fund, but here was an even better opportunity.
+
+Peter thought of Comrade Apfel, who was one of the extreme
+Socialists, and a temporary Pacifist like most Germans. Apfel worked
+in a bakery, and his face was as pasty as the dough he kneaded, but
+it would show a tinge of color when he rose in the local to denounce
+the “social patriots,” those party members who were lending their
+aid to British plans for world domination. McGivney said he would
+send somebody to Apfel at once, and give him the name of the
+Kaiser’s agent as one who might be induced to contribute to the
+radical defense fund. Apfel would, of course, have no idea that the
+man was a German agent; he would go to see him, and ask him for
+money, and McGivney and his fellow-sleuths would do the rest. Peter
+said that was fine, and offered to go to Apfel himself; but the
+rat-faced man answered no, Peter was too precious, and no chance
+must be taken of directing Apfel’s suspicions against him.
+
+
+
+
+Section 56
+
+
+Peter had received a brief scrawl from Nell, telling him that it was
+all right, she had gone to her new job, and would soon have results.
+So Peter went cheerfully about his own duties of trying to hold down
+the protest campaign of the radicals. It was really quite
+terrifying, the success they were having, in spite of all the best
+efforts of the authorities. Bundles of circulars appeared at their
+gatherings as if by magic, and were carried away and distributed
+before the authorities could make any move. Every night at the Labor
+Temple, where the workers gathered, there were agitators howling
+their heads off about the McCormick case. To make matters worse,
+there was an obscure one cent evening paper in American City which
+catered to working-class readers, and persisted in publishing
+evidence tending to prove that the case was a “frame-up.” The Reds
+had found out that their mail was being interfered with, and were
+raising a terrific howl about that--pretending, of course, that it
+was “free speech” they cared about!
+
+The mass meeting was due for that evening, and Peter read an
+indignant editorial in the American City “Times,” calling upon the
+authorities to suppress it. “Down with the Red Flag!” the editorial
+was headed; and Peter couldn’t see how any red-blooded, 100%
+American could read it, and not be moved to do something.
+
+Peter said that to McGivney, who answered: “We’re going to do
+something; you wait!” And sure enough, that afternoon the papers
+carried the news that the mayor of American City had notified the
+owners of the Auditorium that they would be held strictly
+responsible under the law for all incendiary and seditious
+utterances at this meeting; thereupon, the owners of the Auditorium
+had cancelled the contract. Furthermore, the mayor declared that no
+crowds should be gathered on the street, and that the police would
+be there to see to it, and to protect law and order. Peter hurried
+to the rooms of the Peoples’ Council, and found the radicals
+scurrying about, trying to find some other hall; every now and then
+Peter would go to the telephone, and let McGivney know what hall
+they were trying to get, and McGivney would communicate with Guffey,
+and Guffey would communicate with the secretary of the Chamber of
+Commerce, and the owner of this hall would be called up and warned
+by the president of the bank which held a mortgage on the hall, or
+by the chairman of the board of directors of the Philharmonic
+Orchestra which gave concerts there.
+
+So there was no Red mass meeting that night--and none for many a
+night thereafter in American City! Guffey’s office had got its
+German spy story ready, and next morning, here was the entire front
+page of the American City “Times” given up to the amazing revelation
+that Karl von Stroeme, agent of the German government, and reputed
+to be a nephew of the German Vice-chancellor, had been arrested in
+American City, posing as a Swedish sewing-machine agent, but in
+reality having been occupied in financing the planting of dynamite
+bombs in the buildings of the Pioneer Foundry Company, now being
+equipped for the manufacture of machine-guns. Three of von Stroeme’s
+confederates had been nabbed at the same time, and a mass of papers
+full of important revelations--not the least important among them
+being the fact that only yesterday von Stroeme had been caught
+dealing with a German Socialist of the ultra-Red variety, an
+official of the Bread and Cake-Makers’ Union Number 479, by the name
+of Ernst Apfel. The government had a dictagraph record of
+conversations in which von Stroeme had contributed one hundred
+dollars to the Liberty Defense League, an organization which the
+Reds had got up for the purpose of carrying on agitation for the
+release of the I. W. W.s arrested in the dynamite plot against the
+life of Nelse Ackerman. Moreover it was proven that Apfel had taken
+this money and distributed it among several German Reds, who had
+turned it in to the defense fund, or used it in paying for circulars
+calling for a general strike.
+
+Peter’s heart was leaping with excitement; and it leaped even faster
+when he had got his breakfast and was walking down Main Street. He
+saw crowds gathered, and American flags flying from all the
+buildings, just as on the day of the Preparedness parade. It caused
+Peter to feet queer spasms of fright; he imagined another bomb, but
+he couldn’t resist the crowds with their eager faces and contagious
+enthusiasm. Presently here came a band, with magnificent martial
+music, and here came soldiers marching--tramp, tramp, tramp--line
+after line of khaki-clad boys with heavy packs upon their backs and
+shiny new rifles. Our boys! Our boys! God bless them!
+
+It was three regiments of the 223rd Division, coming from Camp
+Lincoln to be entrained for the war. They might better have been
+entrained at the camp, of course, but everyone had been clamoring
+for some glimpse of the soldiers, and here they were with their
+music and their flags, and their crowds of flushed, excited
+admirers--two endless lines of people, wild with patriotic fervor,
+shouting, singing, waving hats and handkerchiefs, until the whole
+street became a blur, a mad delirium. Peter saw these closely
+pressed lines, straight and true, and the legs that moved like
+clock-work, and the feet that shook the ground like thunder. He saw
+the fresh, boyish faces, grimly set and proud, with eyes fixed
+ahead, never turning, even tho they realized that this might be
+their last glimpse of their home city, that they might never come
+back from this journey. Our boys! Our boys! God bless them! Peter
+felt a choking in his throat, and a thrill of gratitude to the boys
+who were protecting him and his country; he clenched his hands and
+set his teeth, with fresh determination to punish the evil men and
+women--draft-dodgers, slackers, pacifists and seditionists--who were
+failing to take their part in this glorious emprise.
+
+
+
+
+Section 57
+
+
+Peter went to the American House and met McGivney, and was put to
+work on a job that precisely suited his mood. The time had come for
+action, said the rat-faced man. The executive committee of the I. W.
+W. local had been drafting an appeal to the main organization for
+help, and the executive committee was to meet that evening; Peter
+was to get in touch with the secretary, Grady, and find out where
+this meeting was to be, and make the suggestion that all the
+membership be gathered, and other Reds also. The business men of the
+city were going to pull off their big stroke that night, said
+McGivney; the younger members of the Chamber of Commerce and the
+Merchants’ and Manufacturers’ Association had got together and
+worked out a secret plan, and all they wanted was to have the Reds
+collected in one place.
+
+So Peter set out and found Shawn Grady, the young Irish boy who kept
+the membership lists and other papers of the organization, in a
+place so secret that not even Peter had been able to find them.
+Peter brought the latest news about the sufferings of Mac in the
+“hole,” and how Gus, the sailor, had joined Henderson in the
+hospital. He was so eloquent in his indignation that presently Grady
+told him about the meeting for that evening, and about the place,
+and Peter said they really ought to get some of their friends
+together, and work out some way to get their protest literature
+distributed quickly, because it was evident they could no longer use
+the mails. What was the use of resolutions of executive committees,
+when what was wanted was action by the entire membership? Grady said
+all right, they would notify the active members and sympathizers,
+and he gave Peter the job of telephoning and travelling about town
+getting word to a dozen people.
+
+At six o’clock that evening Peter reported the results to McGivney,
+and then he got a shock. “You must go to that meeting yourself,”
+ said the rat-faced man. “You mustn’t take any chance of their
+suspecting you.”
+
+“But, my God!” cried Peter. “What’s going to happen there?”
+
+“You don’t need to worry about that,” answered the other. “I’ll see
+that you’re protected.”
+
+The gathering was to take place at the home of Ada Ruth, the
+poetess, and McGivney had Peter describe this home to him. Beyond
+the living-room was a hallway, and in this hallway was a big clothes
+closet. At the first alarm Peter must make for this place. He must
+get into the closet, and McGivney would be on hand, and they would
+pen Peter up and pretend to club him, but in reality would protect
+him from whatever happened to the rest. Peter’s knees began to
+tremble, and he denounced the idea indignantly; what would happen to
+him if anything were to happen to McGivney, or to his automobile,
+and were to fail to get there in time? McGivney declared that Peter
+need not worry--he was too valuable a man for them to take any
+chances with. McGivney would be there, and all Peter would have to
+do was to scream and raise a rumpus, and finally fall unconscious,
+and McGivney and Hammett and Cummings would carry him out to their
+automobile and take him away!
+
+Peter was so frightened that he couldn’t eat any dinner, but
+wandered about the street talking to himself and screwing up his
+courage. He had to stop and look at the American flags, still waving
+from the buildings, and read the evening edition of the American
+City “Times,” in order to work up his patriotic fervor again. As he
+set out for the home of the little cripple who wrote pacifist
+poetry, he really felt like the soldier boys marching away to war.
+
+Ada Ruth was there, and her mother, a dried-up old lady who knew
+nothing about all these dreadful world movements, but whose
+pleadings had no effect upon her inspired daughter; also Ada’s
+cousin, a lean old-maid school teacher, secretary of the Peoples’
+Council; also Miriam Yankovitch, and Sadie Todd, and Donald Gordon.
+On the way Peter had met Tom Duggan, and the mournful poet revealed
+that he had composed a new poem about Mac in the “hole.” Immediately
+afterwards came Grady, the secretary, his pockets stuffed with his
+papers. Grady, a tall, dark-eyed, impulsive-tempered Irish boy, was
+what the Socialists called a “Jimmie Higgins,” that is, one of the
+fellows who did the hard and dreary work of the movement, who were
+always on hand no matter what happened, always ready to have some
+new responsibility put upon their shoulders. Grady had no use for
+the Socialists, being only interested in “industrial action,” but he
+was willing to be called a “Jimmie Higgins”; he had said that Peter
+was one too, and Peter had smiled to himself, thinking that a
+“Jimmie Higgins” was about the last thing in the world he ever would
+be. Peter was on the way to independence and prosperity, and it did
+not occur to him to reflect that he might be a “Jimmie Higgins” to
+the “Whites” instead of to the Reds!
+
+Grady now pulled out his papers, and began to talk over with Donald
+Gordon the proceedings of the evening. He had had a telegram from
+the national headquarters of the I. W. W., promising support, and
+his thin, hungry face lighted up with pride as he showed this. Then
+he announced that “Bud” Connor was to be present--a well-known
+organizer, who had been up in the oil country with McCormick, and
+brought news that the workers there were on the verge of a big
+strike. Then came Mrs. Jennings, a poor, tormented little woman who
+was slowly dying of a cancer, and whose husband was suing her for
+divorce because she had given money to the I. W. W. With her, and
+helping her along, came “Andy” Adams, a big machinist, who had been
+kicked out of his lodge for talking too much “direct action.” He
+pulled from his pocket a copy of the “Evening Telegraph,” and read a
+few lines from an editorial, denouncing “direct action” as meaning
+dynamiting, which it didn’t, of course, and asking how long it would
+be before the friends of law and order in American City would use a
+little “direct action” of their own.
+
+
+
+
+Section 58
+
+
+So they gathered, until about thirty were present, and then the
+meeting speedily got down to business. It was evident, said Grady,
+that the authorities had deliberately framed-up the dynamite
+conspiracy, in order to have an excuse for wiping out the I. W. W.
+organization; they had closed the hall, and confiscated everything,
+typewriters and office furniture and books--including a book on
+Sabotage which they had turned over to the editor of the “Evening
+Times”! There was a hiss of anger at this. Also, they had taken to
+interfering with the mail of the organization; the I. W. W. were
+having to get out their literature by express. They were fighting
+for their existence, and they must find some way of getting the
+truth to people. If anybody had any suggestions to make, now was the
+time.
+
+There came one suggestion after another; and meantime Peter sat as
+if his chair were full of pins. Why didn’t they come--the younger
+members of the Chamber of Commerce and the Merchants’ and
+Manufacturers’ Association--and do what they were going to do
+without any further delay? Did they expect Peter to sit there all
+night, trembling with alarm--and he not having any dinner besides?
+
+Suddenly Peter gave a jump. Outside came a yell, and Donald Gordon,
+who was making a speech, stopped suddenly, and the members of the
+company stared at one another, and some sprang to their feet. There
+were more yells, rising to screams, and some of the company made for
+the front doors, and some for the back doors, and yet others for the
+windows and the staircase. Peter wasted no time, but dived into the
+clothes closet in the hallway back of the living-room, and got into
+the farthest corner of this closet, and pulled some of the clothes
+on top of him; and then, to make him safer yet, came several other
+people piling on top of him.
+
+From his place of refuge he listened to the confusion that reigned.
+The place was a bedlam of women’s shrieks, and the curses of
+fighting men, and the crash of overturning furniture, and of clubs
+and monkey-wrenches on human heads. The younger members of the
+Chamber of Commerce and the Merchants’ and Manufacturers’
+Association had come in sufficient force to make sure of their
+purpose. There were enough to crowd the room full, and to pack all
+the doorways, and two or three to guard each window, and a flying
+squadron to keep watch for anybody who jumped from the roof or tried
+to hide in the trees of the garden.
+
+Peter cowered, and listened to the furious uproar, and presently he
+heard the cries of those on top of him, and realized that they were
+being pulled off and clubbed; he felt hands reach down and grab him,
+and he cringed and cried in terror; but nothing happened to him, and
+presently he glanced up and he saw a man wearing a black mask, but
+easily to be recognized as McGivney. Never in all his life had Peter
+been gladder to see a human face than he was to see that masked face
+of a rat! McGivney had a club in his hand, and was dealing ferocious
+blows to the clothes heaped around Peter. Behind McGivney were
+Hammett and Cummings, covering the proceedings, and now and then
+carefully putting in a blow of their own.
+
+Most of the fighting inside the house and outside came quickly to an
+end, because everybody who fought was laid out or overpowered. Then
+several of the agents of Guffey, who had been studying these Reds
+for a year or two and knew them all, went about picking out the ones
+who were especially wanted, and searching them for arms, and then
+handcuffing them. One of these men approached Peter, who instantly
+fell unconscious, and closed his eyes; then Hammett caught him under
+the armpits and Cummings by the feet, and McGivney walked alongside
+as a bodyguard, remarking now and then, “We want this fellow, we’ll
+take care of him.”
+
+They carried Peter outside, and in the darkness he opened his eyes
+just enough to see that the street was lined with automobiles, and
+that the Reds were being loaded aboard. Peter’s friends carried him
+to one car and drove him away, and then Peter returned to
+consciousness, and the four of them sat up and laughed to split
+their sides, and slapped one another on the back, and mentioned the
+satisfactory things they had seen. Had Hammett noticed that slice
+Grady had got over the eyes, and the way the blood had run all over
+him? Well, he wanted to be a Red--they had helped him be one--inside
+and out! Had McGivney noticed how “Buck” Ellis, one of their men,
+had put the nose of the hobo poet out of joint? And young Ogden, son
+of the president of the Chamber of Commerce, had certainly managed
+to show how he felt about these cattle, the female ones as well as
+the males; when that Yankovich slut had slapped his face, he had
+caught her by the breasts and nearly twisted them off, and she had
+screamed and fainted!
+
+Yes, they had cleaned them out. But that wasn’t all of it, they were
+going to finish the job tonight, by God! They were going to give
+these pacifists a taste of the war, they were going to put an end to
+the Red Terror in American City! Peter might go along if he liked
+and see the good work; they were going into the country, and it
+would be dark, and if he kept a mask on he would be quite safe. And
+Peter said yes; his blood was up, he was full of the spirit of the
+hunt, he wanted to be in at the death, regardless of everything.
+
+
+
+
+Section 59
+
+
+The motor purred softly, and the car sped as if upon wings thru the
+suburbs of American City, and to the country beyond. There were cars
+in front, and other cars behind, a long stream of white lights
+flying out into the country. They came to a grove of big pine trees,
+which rose two or three feet thick, like church arches, and covered
+the ground beneath them with a soft, brown carpet. It was a
+well-known picnic place, and here all the cars were gathering by
+appointment. Evidently it had all been pre-arranged, with that
+efficiency which is the pride of 100% Americans. A man with a black
+mask over his face stood in the center of the grove, and shouted his
+directions thru a megaphone, and each car as it swept in ranged
+itself alongside the next car in a broad circle, more than a hundred
+feet across. These cars of the younger members of the Chamber of
+Commerce and the Merchants’ and Manufacturers’ Association were well
+behaved--they were accustomed to sliding precisely into place
+according to orders of a megaphone man, when receptions were being
+given, or when the younger members and their wives and
+fiancees, clad in soft silks and satins, came rolling up to
+their dinner-parties and dances.
+
+The cars came and came, until there was just room enough for the
+last one to slide in. Then at a shouted command, “Number one!” a
+group of men stepped out of one of the cars, dragging a handcuffed
+prisoner. It was Michael Dubin, the young Jewish tailor who had
+spent fifteen days in jail with Peter. Michael was a student and
+dreamer, and not used to scenes of violence; also, he belonged to a
+race which expresses its emotions, and consequently is offensive to
+100% Americans. He screamed and moaned while the masked men
+un-handcuffed him, and took off his coat and tore his shirt in the
+back. They dragged him to a tree in the center of the ring, a
+somewhat smaller tree, just right for his wrists to meet around and
+be handcuffed again. There he stood in the blinding glare of thirty
+or forty cars, writhing and moaning, while one of the black-masked
+men stripped off his coat and got ready for action. He produced a
+long black-snake whip, and stood poised for a moment; then in a
+booming voice the man with the megaphone shouted, “Go!” and the whip
+whistled thru the air and was laid across the back of Michael, and
+tore into the flesh so that the blood leaped into sight. There was a
+scream of anguish, and the victim began to twist and turn and kick
+about as if in his death-throes. Again the whip whistled, and again
+you heard the thud as it tore into the flesh, and another red stripe
+leaped to view.
+
+Now the younger members of the Chamber of Commerce and the
+Merchants’ and Manufacturers’ Association were in excellent
+condition for this evening’s labor. They were not pale and thin,
+underfed and overworked, as were their prisoners; they were sleek
+and rosy, and ashine with health. It was as if long years ago their
+fathers had foreseen the Red menace, and the steps that would have
+to be taken to preserve 100% Americanism; the fathers had imported a
+game which consisted of knocking little white balls around a field
+with various styles and sizes of clubs. They had built magnificent
+club-houses out here in the suburbs, and had many hundreds of acres
+of ground laid out for this game, and would leave their occupations
+of merchanting and manufacturing early in the afternoon, in order to
+repair to these fields and keep their muscles in condition. They
+would hold tournaments, and vie with one another, and tell over the
+stories of the mighty strokes which they had made with their clubs,
+and of the hundreds of strokes they had made in a single afternoon.
+So the man with the black-snake whip was “fit,” and didn’t need to
+stop for breath. Stroke after stroke he laid on, with a splendid
+rhythmic motion; he kept it up easily, on and on. Had he forgotten?
+
+Did he think this was a little white ball he was swinging down upon?
+He kept on and on, until you could no longer count the welts, until
+the whole back of Michael Dubin was a mass of raw and bleeding
+flesh. The screams of Michael Dubin died away, and his convulsive
+struggling ceased, and his head hung limp, and he sunk lower and
+lower upon the tree.
+
+At last the master of ceremonies stepped forward and ordered a halt,
+and the man with the whip wiped the sweat from his forehead with his
+shirt-sleeve, and the other men unchained the body of Michael Dubin,
+and dragged it a few feet to one side and dumped it face downward in
+the pine-leaves.
+
+“Number two!” called the master of ceremonies, in a clear,
+compelling voice, as if he were calling the figures of a quadrille;
+and from another car another set of men emerged, dragging another
+prisoner. It was Bert Glikas, a “blanket-stiff” who was a member of
+the I. W. W.’s executive committee, and had had two teeth knocked
+out in a harvest-strike only a couple of weeks previously. While
+they were getting off his coat, he managed to get one hand free, and
+he shook it at the spectators behind the white lights of the
+automobiles. “God damn you!” he yelled; and so they tied him up, and
+a fresh man stepped forward and picked up the whip, and spit on his
+hands for good luck, and laid on with a double will; and at every
+stroke Glikas yelled a fresh curse; first in English, and then, as
+if he were delirious, in some foreign language. But at last his
+curses died away, and he too sank insensible, and was unhitched and
+dragged away and dumped down beside the first man. “Number three!”
+ called the master of ceremonies.
+
+
+
+
+Section 60
+
+
+Now Peter was sitting in the back seat of his car, wearing the mask
+which McGivney had given him, a piece of cloth with two holes for
+his eyes and another hole for him to breathe thru. Peter hated these
+Reds, and wanted them punished, but he was not used to bloody
+sights, and was finding this endless thud, thud of the whip on human
+flesh rather more than he could stand. Why had he come? This wasn’t
+his part of the job of saving his country from the Red menace. He
+had done his share in pointing out the dangerous ones; he was a man
+of brains, not a man of violence. Peter saw that the next victim was
+Tom Duggan with his broken and bloody nose, and in spite of himself,
+Peter started with dismay. He realized that without intending it he
+had become a little fond of Tom Duggan. For all his queerness,
+Duggan was loyal, he was a good fellow when you had got underneath
+his surly manners. He had never done anything except just to
+grumble, and to put his grumbles into verses; they were making a
+mistake in whipping him, and for a moment Peter had a crazy impulse
+to interfere and tell them so.
+
+The poet never made a sound. Peter got one glimpse of his face in
+the blazing white light, and in spite of the fact that it was
+smashed and bloody, Peter read Tom Duggan’s resolve--he would die
+before they would get a moan out of him. Each time the lash fell you
+could see a quiver all over his form; but there was never a sound,
+and he stood, hugging the tree in a convulsive grip. They lashed him
+until the whip was spattering blood all over them, until blood was
+running to the ground. They had taken the precaution to bring along
+a doctor with a little black case, and he now stepped up and
+whispered to the master of ceremonies. They unfastened Duggan, and
+broke the grip of his arms about the tree, and dumped him down
+beside Glikas.
+
+Next came the turn of Donald Gordon, the Socialist Quaker, which
+brought a bit of cheap drama. Donald took his religion seriously; he
+was always shouting his anti-war sentiments in the name of Jesus,
+which made him especially obnoxious. Now he saw a chance to get off
+one of his theatrical stunts; he raised his two manacled hands into
+the air as if he were praying, and shouted in piercing tones:
+“Father, forgive them, for they know not what they do!”
+
+A murmur started in the crowd; you could hear it mounting to a roar.
+“Blasphemy!” they cried. “Stop his dirty mouth!” It was the same
+mouth that had been heard on a hundred platforms, denouncing the war
+and those who made money out of the war. They were here now, the men
+who had been denounced, the younger members of the Chamber of
+Commerce and the Merchants’ and Manufacturers’ Association, the best
+people of the city, those who were saving the country, and charging
+no more than the service was worth. So they roared with fury at this
+sacreligious upstart. A man whose mask was a joke, because he was so
+burly and hearty that everybody in the crowd knew him, took up the
+bloody whip. It was Billy Nash, secretary of the “Improve America
+League,” and the crowd shouted, “Go to it, Billy! Good eye, old
+boy!” Donald Gordon might tell God that Billy Nash didn’t know what
+he was doing, but Billy thought that he knew, and he meant before he
+got thru to convince Donald that he knew. It didn’t take very long,
+because there was nothing much to the young Quaker but voice, and he
+fainted at the fourth or fifth stroke, and after the twentieth
+stroke the doctor interfered.
+
+Then came the turn of Grady, secretary of the I. W. W., and here a
+terrible thing happened. Grady, watching this scene from one of the
+cars, had grown desperate, and when they loosed the handcuffs to get
+off his coat, he gave a sudden wrench and broke free, striking down
+one man after another. He had been brought up in the lumber country,
+and his strength was amazing, and before the crowd quite realized
+it, he was leaping between two of the cars. A dozen men sprang upon
+him from a dozen directions, and he went down in the midst of a wild
+melee. They pinned him with his face mashed into the dirt, and from
+the crowd there rose a roar as from wild beasts in the night-time,
+
+“String him up! String him up!” One man came running with a rope,
+shouting, “Hang him!”
+
+The master of ceremonies tried to protest thru his megaphone, but
+the instrument was knocked out of his hands, and he was hauled to
+one side, and presently there was a man climbing up the pine tree
+and hanging the rope over a limb. You could not see Grady for the
+jostling throng about him, but suddenly there was a yell from the
+crowd, and you saw him quite plainly--he shot high up into the air,
+with the rope about his neck and his feet kicking wildly.
+Underneath, men danced about and yelled and waved their hats in the
+air, and one man leaped up and caught one of the kicking feet and
+hung onto it.
+
+Then, above all the din, a voice was heard thru the megaphone, “Let
+him down a bit! Let me get at him!” And those who held the rope gave
+way, and the body came down toward the ground, still kicking, and a
+man took out a clasp-knife, and cut the clothing away from the body,
+and cut off something from the body; there was another yell from the
+crowd, and the men in the automobiles slapped their knees and
+shrieked with satisfaction. Those in the car with Peter whispered
+that it was Ogden, son of the president of the Chamber of Commerce;
+and all over town next day and for weeks thereafter men would nudge
+one another, and whisper about what Bob Ogden had done to the body
+of Shawn Grady, secretary of the “damned wobblies.” And every one
+who nudged and whispered about it felt certain that by this means
+the Red Terror had been forever suppressed, and 100% Americanism
+vindicated, and a peaceful solution of the problem of capital and
+labor made certain.
+
+Strange as it might seem, there was one member of the I. W. W. who
+agreed with them. One of the victims of that night had learned his
+lesson! When Tom Duggan was able to sit up again, which was six
+weeks later, he wrote an article about his experience, which was
+published in an I. W. W. paper, and afterwards in pamphlet form was
+read by many hundreds of thousands of workingmen. In it the poet
+said:
+
+“The preamble of the I. W. W. opens with the statement that the
+employing class and the working class have nothing in common; but on
+this occasion I learned that the preamble is mistaken. On this
+occasion I saw one thing in common between the employing class and
+the working class, and that thing was a black-snake whip. The butt
+end of the whip was in the hands of the employing class, and the
+lash of the whip was on the backs of the working class, and thus to
+all eternity was symbolized the truth about the relationship of the
+classes!”
+
+
+
+
+Section 61
+
+
+Peter awoke next morning with a vivid sense of the pain and terror
+of life. He had been clamoring to have those Reds punished; but
+somehow or other he had thought of this punishment in an abstract
+way, a thing you could attend to by a wave of the hand. He hadn’t
+quite realized the physical side of it, what a messy and bloody job
+it would prove. Two hours and more he had listened to the thud of a
+whip on human flesh, and each separate stroke had been a blow upon
+his own nerves. Peter had an overdose of vengeance; and now, the
+morning after, his conscience was gnawing at him. He had known every
+one of those boys, and their faces rose up to haunt him. What had
+any of them done to deserve such treatment? Could he say that he had
+ever known a single one of them to do anything as violent as the
+thing they had all suffered?
+
+But more than anything else Peter was troubled by fear. Peter, the
+ant, perceived the conflict of the giants becoming more ferocious,
+and realized the precariousness of his position under the giants’
+feet. The passions of both sides were mounting, and the fiercer
+their hate became, the greater the chance of Peter’s being
+discovered, the more dreadful his fate if he were discovered. It was
+all very well for McGivney to assure him that only four of Guffey’s
+men knew the truth, and that all these might be trusted to the
+death. Peter remembered a remark he had heard Shawn Grady make, and
+which had caused him to lose his appetite for more than one meal.
+“They’ve got spies among us,” the young Irishman had said. “Well,
+sooner or later we’ll do a bit of spying of our own!”
+
+And now these words came back to Peter like a voice from the grave.
+Suppose one of the Reds who had money were to hire somebody to get a
+job in Guffey’s office! Suppose some Red girl were to try Peter’s
+device, and seduce one of Guffey’s men--by no means a difficult
+task! The man mightn’t even mean to reveal that Peter Gudge was a
+secret agent; he might just let it slip, as little Jennie had let
+slip the truth about Jack Ibbetts! Thus Mac would know who had
+framed him up; and what would Mac do to Peter when he got out on
+bail? When Peter thought of things like that he realized what it
+meant to go to war; he saw that he had gained nothing by staying at
+home, he might as well have been in the front-line trenches! After
+all, this was war, class-war; and in all war the penalty for spying
+is death.
+
+Also Peter was worried about Nell. She had been in her new position
+for nearly a week, and he hadn’t heard a word from her. She had
+forbidden him to write, for fear he might write something
+injudicious. Let him just wait, Edythe Eustace would know how to
+take care of herself. And that was all right, Peter had no doubt
+about the ability of Edythe Eustace to take care of herself. What
+troubled him was the knowledge that she was working on another
+“frame-up,” and he stood in fear of the exuberance of her
+imagination. The last time that imagination had been pregnant, it
+had presented him with a suit-case full of dynamite. What it might
+bring forth next time he did not know, and was afraid to think. Nell
+might cause him to be found out by Guffey; and that would be nearly
+as horrible as to be found out by Mac!
+
+Peter got his morning “Times,” and found a whole page about the
+whipping of the Reds, portraying the job as a patriotic duty
+heroically performed; and that naturally cheered Peter up
+considerably. He turned to the editorial page, and read a two column
+“leader” that was one whoop of exultation. It served still more to
+cure Peter’s ache of conscience; and when he read on and found a
+series of interviews with leading citizens, giving cordial
+endorsement to the acts of the “vigilantes,” Peter became ashamed of
+his weakness, and glad that he had not revealed it to anyone. Peter
+was trying his best to become a real “he-man,” a 100% red-blooded
+American, and he had the “Times” twice each day, morning and
+evening, to guide, sustain and inspire him.
+
+Peter had been told by McGivney to fix himself up and pose as one of
+the martyrs of the night’s affair, and this appealed to his sense of
+humor. He cut off the hair from a part of his head, and stuck some
+raw cotton on top, and plastered it over with surgical tape. He
+stuck another big wad of surgical tape across his forehead, and a
+criss-cross of it on his cheek, and tied up his wrist in an
+excellent imitation of a sprain. Thus rigged out he repaired to the
+American House, and McGivney rewarded him with a hearty laugh, and
+then proceeded to give some instructions which, entirely restored
+Peter’s usual freshness of soul. Peter was going up on Mount Olympus
+again!
+
+The rat-faced man explained in detail. There was a lady of great
+wealth--indeed, she was said to be several times a millionaire--who
+was an openly avowed Red, a pacifist of the most malignant variety.
+Since the arrest of young Lackman she had come forward and put up
+funds to finance the “People’s Council,” and the “Anti-Conscription
+League,” and all the other activities which for the sake of
+convenience were described by the term “pro-German.” The only
+trouble was this lady was so extremely wealthy it was hard to do
+anything to her. Her husband was a director in a couple of Nelse
+Ackerman’s banks, and had other powerful connections. The husband
+was a violent, anti-Socialist, and a buyer of liberty bonds; he
+quarrelled with his wife, but nevertheless he did not want to see
+her in jail, and this made an embarrassing situation for the police
+and the district attorney’s office, and even for the Federal
+authorities, who naturally did not want to trouble one of the
+courtiers of the king of American City. “But something’s got to be
+done,” said McGivney. “This camouflaged German propaganda can’t go
+on.” So Peter was to try to draw Mrs. Godd into some kind of “overt
+action.”
+
+“Mrs. Godd?” said Peter. It seemed to him a singular coincidence
+that one of the dwellers on Mount Olympus should bear that name. The
+great lady lived on a hilltop out in the suburbs, not so far from
+the hilltop of Nelse Ackerman. One of the adventures looked forward
+to by Reds and pacifists in distress was to make a pilgrimage to
+this palace and obtain some long, green plasters to put over their
+wounds. Now was the time at all times for Peter to go, said
+McGivney. Peter had many wounds to be plastered, and Mrs. Godd would
+be indignant at the proceedings of last night, and would no doubt
+express herself without restraint.
+
+
+
+
+Section 62
+
+
+Peter hadn’t been so excited since the time when he had waited to
+meet young Lackman. He had never quite forgiven himself for this
+costly failure, and now he was to have another chance. He took a
+trolley ride out into the country, and walked a couple of miles to
+the palace on the hilltop, and mounted thru a grove of trees and
+magnificent Italian gardens. According to McGivney’s injunctions, he
+summoned his courage, and went to the front door of the stately
+mansion and rang the bell.
+
+Peter was hot and dusty from his long walk, the sweat had made
+streaks down his face and marred the pristine whiteness of his
+plasters. He was never a distinguished-looking person at best, and
+now, holding his damaged straw hat in his hands, he looked not so
+far from a hobo. However, the French maid who came to the door was
+evidently accustomed to strange-looking visitors. She didn’t order
+Peter to the servant’s entrance, nor threaten him with the dogs; she
+merely said, “Be seated, please. I will tell madame”--putting the
+accent on the second syllable, where Peter had never heard it
+before.
+
+And presently here came Mrs. Godd in her cloud of Olympian
+beneficence; a large and ample lady, especially built for the role
+of divinity. Peter felt suddenly awe-stricken. How had he dared come
+here? Neither in the Hotel de Soto, with its many divinities, nor in
+the palace of Nelse Ackerman, the king, had he felt such a sense of
+his own lowliness as the sight of this calm, slow-moving great lady
+inspired. She was the embodiment of opulence, she was “the real
+thing.” Despite the look of kindliness in her wide-open blue eyes,
+she impressed him with a feeling of her overwhelming superiority. He
+did not know it was his duty as a gentleman to rise from his chair
+when a lady entered, but some instinct brought him to his feet and
+caused him to stand blinking as she crossed to him from the opposite
+end of the big room.
+
+“How do you do?” she said in a low, full voice, gazing at him
+steadily out of the kind, wide-open blue eyes. Peter stammered, “How
+d-dy do, M--Mrs. Godd.”
+
+In truth, Peter was almost dumb with bewilderment. Could it really,
+possibly be that this grand personage was a Red? One of the things
+that had most offended him about all radicals was their noisiness,
+their aggressiveness; but here was a grand serenity of looks and
+manner, a soft, slow voice--here was beauty, too, a skin unlined,
+despite middle years, and glowing with health and a fine cleanness.
+Nell Doolin had had a glowing complexion, but there was always a lot
+of powder stuck on, and when you investigated closely, as Peter had
+done, you discovered muddy spots in the edges of her hair and on her
+throat. But Mrs. Godd’s skin shone just as the skin of a goddess
+would be expected to shine, and everything about her was of a divine
+and compelling opulence. Peter could not have explained just what it
+was that gave this last impression so overwhelmingly. It was not
+that she wore many jewels, or large ones, for Mrs. James had beaten
+her at that; it was not her delicate perfume, for Nell Doolin
+scattered more sweetness on the air; yet somehow even poor, ignorant
+Peter felt the difference--it seemed to him that none of Mrs. Godd’s
+costly garments had ever been worn before, that the costly rugs on
+the floor had never been stepped on before, the very chair on which
+he sat had never been sat on before!
+
+Little Ada Ruth had called Mrs. Godd “the mother of all the world;”
+ and now suddenly she became the mother of Peter Gudge. She had read
+the papers that morning, she had received a half dozen telephone
+calls from horrified and indignant Reds, and so a few words sufficed
+to explain to her the meaning of Peter’s bandages and plasters. She
+held out to him a beautiful cool hand, and quite without warning,
+tears sprang into the great blue eyes.
+
+“Oh, you are one of those poor boys! Thank God they did not kill
+you!” And she led him to a soft couch and made him lie down amid
+silken pillows. Peter’s dream of Mount Olympus had come literally
+true! It occurred to him that if Mrs. Godd were willing to play
+permanently the role of mother to Peter Gudge, he would be willing
+to give up his role of anti-Red agent with its perils and its
+nervous strains; he would forget duty, forget the world’s strife and
+care; he would join the lotus-eaters, the sippers of nectar on Mount
+Olympus!
+
+She sat and talked to him in the soft, gentle voice, and the kind
+blue eyes watched him, and Peter thought that never in all his life
+had he encountered such heavenly emotions. To be sure, when he had
+gone to see Miriam Yankovich, old Mrs. Yankovich had been just as
+kind, and tears of sympathy had come into her eyes just the same.
+But then, Mrs. Yankovich was nothing but a fat old Jewess, who lived
+in a tenement and smelt of laundry soap and partly completed
+washing; her hands had been hot and slimy, and so Peter had not been
+in the least grateful for her kindness. But to encounter tender
+emotions in these celestial regions, to be talked to maternally and
+confidentially by this wonderful Mrs. Godd in soft white chiffons
+just out of a band-box _this _was quite another matter!
+
+
+
+
+Section 63
+
+
+Peter did not want to set traps for this mother of Mount Olympus, he
+didn’t want to worm any secrets from her. And as it happened, he
+found that he did not have to, because she told him everything right
+away, and without the slightest hesitation. She talked just as the
+“wobblies” had talked in their headquarters; and Peter, when he
+thought it over, realized that there are two kinds of people who can
+afford to be frank in their utterance--those who have nothing to
+lose, and those who have so much to lose that they cannot possibly
+lose it.
+
+Mrs. Godd said that what had been done to those men last night was a
+crime, and it ought to be punished if ever a crime was punished, and
+that she would like to engage detectives and get evidence against
+the guilty ones. She said furthermore that she sympathized with the
+Reds of the very reddest shade, and if there were any color redder
+than Red she would be of that color. She said all this in her quiet,
+soft voice. Tears came into her eyes now and then, but they were
+well-behaved tears, they disappeared of their own accord, and
+without any injury to Mrs. Godd’s complexion, or any apparent effect
+upon her self-possession.
+
+Mrs. Godd said that she didn’t see how anybody could fail to be a
+Red who thought about the injustices of present-day society. Only a
+few days before she had been in to see the district attorney, and
+had tried to make a Red out of him! Then she told Peter how there
+had come to see her a man who had pretended to be a radical, but she
+had realized that he didn’t know anything about radicalism, and had
+told him she was sure he was a government agent. The man had finally
+admitted it, and showed her his gold star--and then Mrs. Godd had
+set to work to convert him! She had argued with him for an hour or
+two, and then had invited him to go to the opera with her. “And do
+you know,” said Mrs. Godd, in an injured tone, “he wouldn’t go! They
+don’t want to be converted, those men; they don’t want to listen to
+reason. I believe the man was actually afraid I might influence
+him.”
+
+“I shouldn’t wonder,” put in Peter, sympathetically; for he was a
+tiny bit afraid himself.
+
+“I said to him, `Here I live in this palace, and back in the
+industrial quarter of the city are several thousand men and women
+who slave at machines for me all day, and now, since the war, all
+night too. I get the profits of these peoples’ toil--and what have I
+done to earn it? Absolutely nothing! I never did a stroke of useful
+work in my life.’ And he said to me, `Suppose the dividends were to
+stop, what would you do?’ ‘I don’t know what I’d do,’ I answered,
+`I’d be miserable, of course, because I hate poverty, I couldn’t
+stand it, it’s terrible to think of--not to have comfort and
+cleanliness and security. I don’t see how the working-class stand
+it--that’s exactly why I’m a Red, I know it’s wrong for anyone to be
+poor, and there’s no excuse for it. So I shall help to overthrow the
+capitalist system, even if it means I have to take in washing for my
+living!”
+
+Peter sat watching her in the crisp freshness of her snowy chiffons.
+The words brought a horrible image to his mind; he suddenly found
+himself back in the tenement kitchen, where fat and steaming Mrs.
+Yankovich was laboring elbow deep in soap-suds. It was on the tip of
+Peter’s tongue to say: “If you really had done a day’s washing, Mrs.
+Godd, you wouldn’t talk like that!”
+
+But he remembered that he must play the game, so he said, “They’re
+terrible fellows, them Federal agents. It was two of them pounded me
+over the head last night.” And then he looked faint and pitiful, and
+Mrs. Godd was sympathetic again, and moved to more recklessness of
+utterance.
+
+“It’s because of this hideous war!” she declared. “We’ve gone to war
+to make the world safe for democracy, and meantime we have to
+sacrifice every bit of democracy at home. They tell you that you
+must hold your peace while they murder one another, but they may try
+all they please, they’ll never be able to silence me! I know that
+the Allies are just as much to blame as the Germans, I know that
+this is a war of profiteers and bankers; they may take my sons and
+force them into the army, but they cannot take my convictions and
+force them into their army. I am a pacifist, and I am an
+internationalist; I want to see the workers arise and turn out of
+office these capitalist governments, and put an end to this hideous
+slaughter of human beings. I intend to go on saying that so long as
+I live.” There sat Mrs. Godd, with her lovely firm white hands
+clasped as if in prayer, one large diamond ring on the left fourth
+finger shining defiance, and a look of calm, child-like conviction
+upon her face, confronting in her imagination all the federal agents
+and district attorneys and capitalist judges and statesmen and
+generals and drill sergeants in the civilized world.
+
+She went on to tell how she had attended the trial of three pacifist
+clergymen a week or two previously. How atrocious that Christians in
+a Christian country should be sent to prison for trying to repeat
+the words of Christ! “I was so indignant,” declared Mrs. Godd, “that
+I wrote a letter to the judge. My husband said I would be committing
+contempt of court by writing to a judge during the trial, but I
+answered that my contempt for that court was beyond anything I could
+put into writing. Wait--”
+
+And Mrs. Godd rose gravely from her chair and went over to a desk by
+the wall, and got a copy of the letter. “I’ll read it to you,” she
+said, and Peter listened to a manifesto of Olympian Bolshevism--
+
+To His Honor:
+
+As I entered the sanctuary, I gazed upward to the stained glass
+dome, upon which were inscribed four words: Peace. Justice. Truth.
+Law--and I felt hopeful. Before me were men who had violated no
+constitutional right, who had not the slightest criminal tendency,
+who, were opposed to violence of every kind.
+
+The trial proceeded. I looked again at the beautiful stained glass
+dome, and whispered to myself those majestic-sounding words: “Peace.
+Justice. Truth. Law.” I listened to the prosecutors; the Law in
+their hands was a hard, sharp, cruel blade, seeking insistently,
+relentlessly for a weak spot in the armor of its victims. I listened
+to their Truth, and it was Falsehood. Their Peace was a cruel and
+bloody War. Their justice was a net to catch the victims at any
+cost--at the cost of all things but the glory of the Prosecutor’s
+office.
+
+I grew sick at heart. I can only ask myself the old, old question:
+What can we, the people do? How can we bring Peace, justice, Truth
+and Law to the world? Must we go on bended knees and ask our public
+servants to see that justice is done to the defenceless, rather than
+this eternal prosecuting of the world’s noblest souls! You will find
+these men guilty, and sentence them to be shut behind iron
+bars--which should never be for human beings, no matter what their
+crime, unless you want to make beasts of them. Is that your object,
+sir? It would seem so; and so I say that we must overturn the system
+that is brutalizing, rather than helping and uplifting mankind.
+
+Yours for Peace..Justice..Truth..Law--
+
+Mary Angelica Godd.
+
+What were you going to do with such a woman? Peter could understand
+the bewilderment of His Honor, and of the district attorney’s
+office, and of the secret service department of the Traction
+Trust--as well as of Mrs. Godd’s husband! Peter was bewildered
+himself; what was the use of his coming out here to get more
+information, when Mrs. Godd had already committed contempt of court
+in writing, and had given all the information there was to give to a
+Federal agent? She had told this man that she had contributed
+several thousand dollars to the Peoples’ Council, and that she
+intended to contribute more. She had put up bail for a whole bunch
+of Reds and Pacifists, and she intended to put up bail for McCormick
+and his friends, just as soon as the corrupt capitalist courts had
+been forced to admit them to bail. “I know McCormick well, and he’s
+a lovely boy,” she said. “I don’t believe he had anything more to do
+with dynamite bombs than I have.”
+
+Now all this time Peter had sat there, entirely under the spell of
+Mrs. Godd’s opulence. Peter was dwelling among the lotus-eaters, and
+forgetting the world’s strife and care; he was reclining on a silken
+couch, sipping nectar with the shining ones of Mount Olympus. But
+now suddenly, Peter was brought back to duty, as one wakes from a
+dream to the sound of an alarm-clock. Mrs. Godd was a friend of
+Mac’s, Mrs. Godd proposed to get Mac out on bail! Mac, the most
+dangerous Red of them all! Peter saw that he must get something on
+this woman at once!
+
+
+
+
+Section 64
+
+
+Peter sat up suddenly among his silken cushions, and began to tell
+Mrs. Godd about the new plan of the Anti-conscription League, to
+prepare a set of instructions for young conscientious objectors.
+Peter represented the purpose of these instructions to be the
+advising of young men as to their legal and constitutional rights.
+But it was McGivney’s idea that Peter should slip into the
+instructions some phrase advising the young men to refuse military
+duty; if this were printed and circulated, it would render every
+member of the Anti-conscription League liable to a sentence of ten
+or twenty years in jail. McGivney had warned Peter to be very
+cautious about this, but again Peter found that there was no need of
+caution. Mrs. Godd was perfectly willing to advise young men to
+refuse military service. She had advised many such, she said,
+including her own sons, who unfortunately agreed with their father
+in being blood-thirsty.
+
+It came to be lunch-time, and Mrs. Godd asked if Peter could sit at
+table--and Peter’s curiosity got the better of all caution. He
+wanted to see the Godd family sipping their nectar out of golden
+cups. He wondered, would the disapproving husband and the
+blood-thirsty sons be present?
+
+There was nobody present but an elderly woman companion, and Peter
+did not see any golden cups. But he saw some fine china, so fragile
+that he was afraid to touch it, and he saw a row of silver
+implements, so heavy that it gave him a surprise each time he picked
+one up. Also, he saw foods prepared in strange and complicated ways,
+so chopped up and covered with sauces that it was literally true he
+couldn’t give the name of a single thing he had eaten, except the
+buttered toast.
+
+He was inwardly quaking with embarrassment during this meal, but he
+saved himself by Mrs. James’s formula, to watch and see what the
+others were doing and then do likewise. Each time a new course was
+brought, Peter would wait, and when he saw Mrs. Godd pick up a
+certain fork or a certain spoon, he would pick up the same one, or
+as near to it as he could guess. He could put his whole mind on
+this, because he didn’t have to do any talking; Mrs. Godd poured out
+a steady stream of sedition and high treason, and all Peter had to
+do was to listen and nod. Mrs. Godd would understand that his mouth
+was too full for utterance.
+
+After the luncheon they went out on the broad veranda which
+overlooked a magnificent landscape. The hostess got Peter settled in
+a soft porch chair with many cushions, and then waved her hand
+toward the view of the city with its haze of thick black smoke.
+
+“That’s where my wage slaves toil to earn my dividends,” said she.
+“They’re supposed to stay there--in their `place,’ as it’s called,
+and I stay here in my place. If they want to change places, it’s
+called `revolution,’ and that is `violence.’ What I marvel at is
+that they use so little violence, and feel so little. Look at those
+men being tortured in jail! Could anyone blame them if they used
+violence? Or if they made an effort to escape?”
+
+That suggested a swift, stabbing idea to Peter. Suppose Mrs. Godd
+could be induced to help in a jail delivery!
+
+“It might be possible to help them to escape,” he suggested.
+
+“Do you think so?” asked Mrs. Godd, showing excitement for the
+first time during that interview.
+
+“It might be,” said Peter. “Those jailors are not above taking
+bribes, you know. I met nearly all of them while I was in that jail,
+and I think I might get in touch with one or two that could be paid.
+Would you like me to try it?”
+
+“Well, I don’t know--” began the lady, hesitatingly. “Do you really
+think--”
+
+“You know they never ought to have been put in at all!” Peter
+interjected.
+
+“That’s certainly true!” declared Mrs. Godd.
+
+“And if they could escape without hurting anyone, if they didn’t
+have to fight the jailors, it wouldn’t do any real harm--”
+
+That was as far as Peter got with his impromptu conspiracy. Suddenly
+he heard a voice behind him: “What does this mean?” It was a male
+voice, fierce and trembling with anger; and Peter started from his
+silken cushions, and glanced around, thrusting up one arm with the
+defensive gesture of a person who has been beaten since earliest
+childhood.
+
+Bearing down on him was a man; possibly he was not an abnormally big
+man, but certainly he looked so to Peter. His smooth-shaven face was
+pink with anger, his brows gathered in a terrible frown, and his
+hands clenched with deadly significance. “You dirty little skunk!”
+ he hissed. “You infernal young sneak!”
+
+“John!” cried Mrs. Godd, imperiously; but she might as well have
+cried to an advancing thunder-storm. The man made a leap upon Peter,
+and Peter, who had dodged many hundreds of blows in his lifetime,
+rolled off the lounging chair, and leaped to his feet, and started
+for the stairs of the veranda. The man was right behind him, and as
+Peter reached the first stair the man’s foot shot out, and caught
+Peter fairly in the seat of his trousers, and the first stair was
+the only one of the ten or twelve stairs of the veranda that Peter
+touched in his descent.
+
+Landing at the bottom, he did not stop even for a glance; he could
+hear the snorting of Mr. Godd, it seemed right behind his ear, and
+Peter ran down the driveway as he had seldom run in his life before.
+Every now and then Mr. Godd would shoot out another kick, but he had
+to stop slightly to do this, and Peter gained just enough to keep
+the kicks from reaching him. So at last the pursuer gave up, and
+Peter dashed thru the gates of the Godd estate and onto the main
+highway.
+
+Then he looked over his shoulder, and seeing that Mr. Godd was a
+safe distance away, he stopped and turned and shook his clenched
+fist with the menace of a street-rat, shrieking, “Damn you! Damn
+you!” A whirlwind of impotent rage laid hold upon him. He shouted
+more curses and menaces, and among them some strange, some almost
+incredible words. “Yes, I’m a Red, damn your soul, and I’ll stay a
+Red!”
+
+Yes, Peter Gudge, the friend of law and order, Peter Gudge, the
+little brother to the rich, shouted, “I’m a Red, and what’s more,
+we’ll blow you up some day for this--Mac and me’ll put a bomb under
+you!” Mr. Godd turned and stalked with contemptuous dignity back to
+his own private domestic controversy.
+
+Peter walked off down the road, rubbing his sore trousers and
+sobbing to himself. Yes, Peter understood now exactly how the Reds
+felt. Here were these rich parasites, exploiting the labor of
+working men and living off in palaces by themselves--and what had
+they done to earn it? What would they ever do for the poor man,
+except to despise him, and to kick him in the seat of his trousers?
+They were a set of wilful brutes! Peter suddenly saw the happenings
+of last night from a new angle, and wished he had all the younger
+members of the Chamber of Commerce and the Merchants’ and
+Manufacturers’ Association right there along with Mr. Godd, so that
+he could bundle them all off to the devil at once.
+
+And that was no passing mood either. The seat of Peter’s trousers
+hurt so that he could hardly endure the trolley ride home, and all
+the way Peter was plotting how he could punish Mr. Godd. He
+remembered suddenly that Mr. Godd was an associate of Nelse
+Ackerman; and Peter now had a spy in Nelse Ackerman’s home, and was
+preparing some kind of a “frame-up!” Peter would see if he couldn’t
+find some way to start a dynamite conspiracy against Mr. Godd! He
+would start a campaign against Mr. Godd in the radical movement, and
+maybe he could find some way to get a bunch of the “wobblies” to
+carry him off and tie him up and beat him with a black-snake whip!
+
+
+
+
+Section 65
+
+
+With these reflections Peter went back to the American House, where
+McGivney had promised to meet him that evening. Peter went to Room
+427, and being tired after the previous night’s excitement, he lay
+down and fell fast asleep. And when again he opened his eyes, he
+wasn’t sure whether it was a nightmare, or whether he had died in
+his sleep and gone to hell with Mr. Godd. Somebody was shaking him,
+and bidding him in a gruff voice, “Wake up!” Peter opened his eyes,
+and saw that it was McGivney; and that was all right, it was natural
+that McGivney should be waking him up. But what was this? McGivney’s
+voice was angry, McGivney’s face was dark and glowering, and--most
+incredible circumstance of all--McGivney had a revolver in his hand,
+and was pointing it into Peter’s face!
+
+It really made it much harder for Peter to get awake, because he
+couldn’t believe that he was awake; also it made it harder for
+McGivney to get any sense out of him, because his jaw hung down, and
+he stared with terrified eyes into the muzzle of the revolver.
+
+“M-m-my God, Mr. McGivney! w-w-what’s the matter?”
+
+“Get up here!” hissed the rat-faced man, and he added a vile name.
+He gripped Peter by the lapel of his coat and half jerked him to his
+feet, still keeping the muzzle of the revolver in Peter’s face. And
+poor Peter, trying desperately to get his wits together, thought of
+half a dozen wild guesses one after another. Could it be that
+McGivney had heard him denouncing Mr. Godd and proclaiming himself a
+Red? Could it be that some of the Reds had framed up something on
+Peter? Could it be that McGivney had gone just plain crazy; that
+Peter was in the room with a maniac armed with a revolver?
+
+“Where did you put that money I gave you the other day;” demanded
+McGivney, and added some more vile names.
+
+Instantly, of course, Peter was on the defensive. No matter how
+frightened he might be, Peter would never fail to hang on to his
+money.
+
+“I-I s-s-spent it, Mr. McGivney.”
+
+“You’re lying to me!”
+
+“N-n-no.”
+
+“Tell me where you put that money!” insisted the man, and his face
+was ugly with anger, and the muzzle of the revolver seemed to be
+trembling with anger. Peter started to insist that he had spent
+every cent. “Make him cough up, Hammett!” said McGivney; and Peter
+for the first time realized that there was another man in the room.
+His eyes had been so fascinated by the muzzle of the revolver that
+he hadn’t taken a glance about.
+
+Hammett was a big fellow, and he strode up to Peter and grabbed one
+of Peter’s arms, and twisted it around behind Peter’s back and up
+between Peter’s shoulders. When Peter started to scream, Hammett
+clapped his other hand over his mouth, and so Peter knew that it was
+all up. He could not hold on to money at that cost. When McGivney
+asked him, “Will you tell me where it is?” Peter nodded, and tried
+to answer thru his nose.
+
+So Hammett took his hand from his mouth. “Where is it?” And Peter
+replied, “In my right shoe.”
+
+Hammett unlaced the shoe and took it off, and pulled out the inside
+sole, and underneath was a little flat package wrapped in tissue
+paper, and inside the tissue paper was the thousand dollars that
+McGivney had given Peter, and also the three hundred dollars which
+Peter had saved from Nelse Ackerman’s present, and two hundred
+dollars which he had saved from his salary. Hammett counted the
+money, and McGivney stuck it into his pocket, and then he commanded
+Peter to put on his shoe again. Peter obeyed with his trembling
+fingers, meantime keeping his eye in part on the revolver and in
+part on the face of the rat.
+
+“W-w-what’s the matter, Mr. McGivney?”
+
+“You’ll find out in time,” was the answer. “Now, you march
+downstairs, and remember, I’ve got this gun on you, and there’s
+eight bullets in it, and if you move a finger I’ll put them all into
+you.”
+
+So Peter and McGivney and Hammett went down in the elevator of the
+hotel, and out of doors, and into an automobile. Hammett drove, and
+Peter sat in the rear seat with McGivney, who had the revolver in
+his coat pocket, his finger always on the trigger and the muzzle
+always pointed into Peter’s middle. So Peter obeyed all orders
+promptly, and stopped asking questions because he found he could get
+no answers.
+
+Meantime he was using his terrified wits on the problem. The best
+guess he could make was that Guffey had decided to believe Joe
+Angell’s story instead of Peter’s. But then, why all this gun-play,
+this movie stuff? Peter gave up in despair; and it was just as well,
+for what had happened lay entirely beyond the guessing power of
+Peter’s mind or any other mind.
+
+
+
+
+Section 66
+
+
+They went to the office of the secret service department of the
+Traction Trust, a place where Peter had never been allowed to come
+hitherto. It was on the fourteenth floor of the Merchant’s Trust
+Building, and the sign on the door read: “The American City Land &
+Investment Company. Walk In.” When you walked in, you saw a
+conventional real estate office, and it was only when you had
+penetrated several doors that you came to the secret rooms where
+Guffey and his staff conducted the espionage work of the big
+business interests of the city.
+
+Peter was hustled into one of these rooms, and there stood Guffey;
+and the instant Guffey saw him, he bore down upon him, shaking his
+fist. “You stinking puppy!” he exclaimed. “You miserable little
+whelp! You dirty, sneaking hound!” He added a number of other
+descriptive phrases taken from the vocabulary of the kennel.
+
+Peter’s knees were shaking, his teeth were chattering, and he
+watched every motion of Guffey’s angry fingers, and every grimace of
+Guffey’s angry features. Peter had been fully prepared for the most
+horrible torture he had experienced yet; but gradually he realized
+that he wasn’t going to be tortured, he was only going to be scolded
+and raged at, and no words could describe the wave of relief in his
+soul. In the course of his street-rat’s life Peter had been called
+more names than Guffey could think of if he spent the next month
+trying. If all Guffey was going to do was to pace up and down the
+room, and shake his fist under Peter’s nose every time he passed
+him, and compare him with every kind of a domestic animal, Peter
+could stand it all night without a murmur.
+
+He stopped trying to find out what it was that had happened, because
+he saw that this only drove Guffey to fresh fits of exasperation.
+Guffey didn’t want to talk to Peter, he didn’t want to hear the
+sound of Peter’s whining gutter-pup’s voice. All he wanted was to
+pour out his rage, and have Peter listen in abject abasement, and
+this Peter did. But meantime, of course, Peter’s wits were working
+at high speed, he was trying to pick up hints as to what the devil
+it could mean. One thing was quite clear--the damage, whatever it
+was, was done; the jig was up, it was all over but the funeral. They
+had taken Peter’s money to pay for the funeral, and that was all
+they hoped to get out of him.
+
+Gradually came other hints. “So you thought you were going into
+business on your own!” snarled Guffey, and his fist, which was under
+Peter’s nose, gave an upward poke that almost dislocated Peter’s
+neck.
+
+“Aha!” thought Peter. “Nelse Ackerman has given me away!”
+
+“You thought you were going to make your fortune and retire for life
+on your income!”
+
+Yes, that was it, surely! But what could Nelse Ackerman have told
+that was so very bad?
+
+“You were going to have a spy of your own, set up your own bureau,
+and kick me out, perhaps!”
+
+“My God!” thought Peter. “Who told that?”
+
+Then suddenly Guffey stopped in front of him. “Was that what you
+thought?” he demanded. He repeated the question, and it appeared
+that he really wanted an answer, and so Peter stammered, “N-n-no,
+sir.” But evidently the answer didn’t suit Guffey, for he grabbed
+Peter’s nose and gave it a tweak that brought the tears into his
+eyes.
+
+“What was it then?” A nasty sneer came on the head detective’s
+face, and he laughed at Peter with a laugh of venomous contempt. “I
+suppose you thought she really loved you! Was it that? You thought
+she really loved you?” And McGivney and Hammett and Guffey ha-ha-ed
+together, and to Peter it seemed like the mockery of demons in the
+undermost pit of hell. Those words brought every pillar of Peter’s
+dream castle tumbling in ruins about his ears. Guffey had found out
+about Nell!
+
+Again and again on the automobile ride to Guffey’s office Peter had
+reminded himself of Nell’s command, “Stick it out, Peter! Stick it
+out!” He had meant to stick it out in spite of everything; but now
+in a flash he saw that all was lost. How could he stick it out when
+they knew about Nell, and when Nell, herself, was no longer sticking
+it out?
+
+Guffey saw these thoughts plainly written in Peter’s face, and his
+sneer turned into a snarl. “So you think you’ll tell me the truth
+now, do you? Well, it happens there’s nothing left to tell!”
+
+Again he turned and began pacing up and down the room. The pressure
+of rage inside him was so great that it took still more time to work
+it off. But finally the head detective sat down at his desk, and
+opened the drawer and took out a paper. “I see you’re sitting there,
+trying to think up some new lie to tell me,” said he. And Peter did
+not try to deny it, because any kind of denial only caused a fresh
+access of rage. “All right,” Guffey said, “I’ll read you this, and
+you can see just where you stand, and just how many kinds of a boob
+you are.”
+
+So he started to read the letter; and before Peter had heard one
+sentence, he knew this was a letter from Nell, and he knew that the
+castle of his dreams was flat in the dust forever. The ruins of
+Sargon and Nineveh were not more hopelessly flat!
+
+“Dear Mr. Guffey,” read the letter, “I am sorry to throw you down,
+but fifty thousand dollars is a lot of money, and we all get tired
+of work and need a rest. This is to tell you that Ted Crothers has
+just broke into Nelse Ackerman’s safe in his home, and we have got
+some liberty bonds and some jewels which we guess to be worth fifty
+thousand dollars, and you know Ted is a good judge of jewels.
+
+“Now of course you will find out that I was working in Mr.
+Ackerman’s home and you will be after me hot-foot, so I might as
+well tell you about it, and tell you it won’t do you any good to
+catch us, because we have got all the inside dope on the Goober
+frame-up, and everything else your bureau has been pulling off in
+American City for the last year. You can ask Peter Gudge and he’ll
+tell you. It was Peter and me that fixed up that dynamite
+conspiracy, but you mustn’t blame Peter, because he only did what I
+told him to do. He hasn’t got sense enough to be really dangerous,
+and he will make you a perfectly good agent if you treat him kind
+and keep him away from the women. You can do that easy enough if you
+don’t let him get any money, because of course he’s nothing much on
+looks, and the women would never bother with him if you didn’t pay
+him too much.
+
+“Now Peter will tell you how we framed up that dynamite job, and of
+course you wouldn’t want that to get known to the Reds, and you may
+be sure that if Ted and me get pinched, we’ll find some way to let
+the Reds know all about it. If you keep quiet we’ll never say a
+word, and you’ve got a perfectly good dynamite conspiracy, with all
+the evidence you need to put the Reds out of business, and you can
+just figure it cost you fifty thousand dollars, and it was cheap at
+the price, because Nelse Ackerman has paid a whole lot more for your
+work, and you never got anything half as big as this. I know you’ll
+be mad when you read this, but think it over and keep your shirt on.
+I send it to you by messenger so you can get hold of Nelse Ackerman
+right quick, and have him not say anything to the police; because
+you know how it is--if those babies find it out, it will get to the
+Reds and the newspapers, and it’ll be all over town and do a lot of
+harm to your frame-up. And you know after those Reds have got beaten
+up and Shawn Grady lynched, you wouldn’t like to have any rumor get
+out that that dynamite was planted by your own people. Ted and me
+will keep out of sight, and we won’t sell the jewels for a while,
+and everything will be all right.
+
+“Yours respectfully,
+
+“Edythe.
+
+“P. S. It really ain’t Peter’s fault that he’s silly about women,
+and he would have worked for you all right if it hadn’t been for my
+good looks!”
+
+
+
+
+Section 67
+
+
+So there it was. When Peter had heard this letter, he understood
+that there was no more to be said, and he said it. His own weight
+had suddenly become more than he could support, and he saw a chair
+nearby and slipped into it, and sat with eyes of abject misery
+roaming from Guffey to McGivney, and from McGivney to Hammett, and
+then back to Guffey again.
+
+The head detective, for all his anger, was a practical man; he could
+not have managed the very important and confidential work of the
+Traction Trust if he had not been. So now he proceeded to get down
+to business. Peter would please tell him everything about that
+dynamite frame-up; just how they had managed it and just who knew
+about it. And Peter, being also a practical man, knew that there was
+no use trying to hide anything. He told the story from beginning to
+end, taking particular pains to make clear that he and Nell alone
+were in the secret---except that beyond doubt Nell had told her
+lover, Ted Crothers. It was probably Crothers that got the dynamite.
+From the conversation that ensued Peter gathered that this young man
+with the face of a bull-dog was one of the very fanciest
+safecrackers in the country, and no doubt he was the real brains of
+the conspiracy; he had put Nell up to it, and managed every step.
+Suddenly Peter remembered all the kisses which Nell had given him in
+the park, and he found a blush of shame stealing over him. Yes,
+there was no doubt about it, he was a boob where women were
+concerned!
+
+Peter began to plead for himself, Really it wasn’t his fault because
+Nell had got a hold on him. In the Temple of Jimjambo, when he was
+only a kid, he had been desperately in love with her. She was not
+only beautiful, she was so smart; she was the smartest woman he had
+ever known. McGivney remarked that she had been playing with Peter
+even then--she had been in Guffey’s pay at that time, collecting
+evidence to put Pashtian el Kalandra in jail and break up the cult
+of Eleutherinian Exoticism. She had done many such jobs for the
+secret service of the Traction Trust, while Peter was still
+traveling around with Pericles Priam selling patent medicine. Nell
+had been used by Guffey to seduce a prominent labor leader in
+American City; she had got him caught in a hotel room with her, and
+thus had broken the back of the biggest labor strike ever known in
+the city’s history.
+
+Peter felt suddenly that he had a good defense. Of course a woman
+like that had been too much for him! It was Guffey’s own fault if he
+hired people like that and turned them loose! It suddenly dawned on
+Peter--Nell must have found out that he, Peter, was going to meet
+young Lackman in the Hotel de Soto, and she must have gone there
+deliberately to ensnare him. When McGivney admitted that that was
+possibly true, Peter felt that he had a case, and proceeded to urge
+it with eloquence. He had been a fool, of course, every kind of fool
+there was, and he hadn’t a word to say for himself; but he had
+learned his lesson and learned it thoroughly. No more women for him,
+and no more high life, and if Mr. Guffey would give him another
+chance--
+
+Guffey, of course, snorted at him. He wouldn’t have a pudding-head
+like Peter Gudge within ten miles of his office! But Peter only
+pleaded the more abjectly. He really did know the Reds thoroughly,
+and where could Mr. Guffey find anybody that knew them as well? The
+Reds all trusted him; he was a real martyr--look at the plasters all
+over him now! And he had just added another Red laurel to his
+brow--he had been to see Mrs. Godd, and had had the seat of his
+trousers kicked by Mr. Godd, and of course he could tell that story,
+and maybe he could catch some Reds in a conspiracy against Mr. Godd.
+Anyhow, they had that perfectly good case against McCormick and the
+rest of the I. W. Ws. And now that things had gone so far, surely
+they couldn’t back down on that case! All that was necessary was to
+explain matters to Mr. Ackerman--
+
+Peter realized that this was an unfortunate remark. Guffey was on
+his feet again, pacing up and down the room, calling Peter the names
+of all the barnyard animals, and incidentally revealing that he had
+already had an interview with Mr. Ackerman, and that Mr. Ackerman
+was not disposed to receive amicably the news that the secret
+service bureau which he had been financing, and which was supposed
+to be protecting him, had been the means of introducing into his
+home a couple of high-class criminals who had cracked his safe and
+made off with jewels that they guessed were worth fifty thousand
+dollars, but that Mr. Ackerman claimed were worth eighty-five
+thousand dollars. Peter was informed that he might thank his lucky
+stars that Guffey didn’t shut him in the hole for the balance of his
+life, or take him into a dungeon and pull him to pieces inch by
+inch. As it was, all he had to do was to get himself out of Guffey’s
+office, and take himself to hell by the quickest route he could
+find. “Go on!” said Guffey. “I mean it, get out!”
+
+And so Peter got to his feet and started unsteadily toward the door.
+He was thinking to himself: “Shall I threaten them? Shall I say I’ll
+go over to the Reds and tell what I know?” No, he had better not do
+that; the least hint of that might cause Guffey to put him in the
+hole! But then, how was it possible for Guffey to let him go, to
+take a chance of his telling? Right now, Guffey must be thinking to
+himself that Peter might go away, and in a fit of rage or of despair
+might let out the truth to one of the Reds, and then everything
+would be ruined forever. No, surely Guffey would not take such a
+chance! Peter walked very slowly to the door, he opened the door
+reluctantly, he stood there, holding on as if he were too weak to
+keep his balance; he waited--waited--
+
+And sure enough, Guffey spoke. “Come back here, you mut!” And Peter
+turned and started towards the head detective, stretching out his
+hands in a gesture of submission; if it had been in an Eastern
+country, he would have fallen on his knees and struck his forehead
+three times in the dust. “Please, please, Mr. Guffey!” he wailed.
+“Give me another chance!”
+
+“If I put you to work again,” snarled Guffey, “will you do what I
+tell you, and not what you want to do yourself?”
+
+“Yes, yes, Mr. Guffey.”
+
+“You’ll do no more frame-ups but my frame-ups?”
+
+“Yes, yes, Mr. Guffey.”
+
+“All right, then, I’ll give you one more chance. But by God, if I
+find you so much as winking at another girl, I’ll pull your eye
+teeth out!”
+
+And Peter’s heart leaped with relief. “Oh, thank you, thank you, Mr.
+Guffey!”
+
+“I’ll pay you twenty dollars a week, and no more,” said Guffey.
+“You’re worth more, but I can’t trust you with money, and you can
+take it or leave it.”
+
+“That’ll be perfectly satisfactory, Mr. Guffey,” said Peter.
+
+
+
+
+Section 68
+
+
+So there was the end of high life for Peter Gudge. He moved no more
+in the celestial circles of Mount Olympus. He never again saw the
+Chinese butler of Mr. Ackerman, nor the French parlor-maid of Mrs.
+Godd. He would no more be smiled at by the two hundred and
+twenty-four boy angels of the ceiling of the Hotel de Soto lobby.
+Peter would eat his meals now seated on a stool in front of a lunch
+counter, he would really be the humble proletarian, the “Jimmie
+Higgins” of his role. He put behind him bright dreams of an
+accumulated competence, and settled down to the hard day’s work of
+cultivating the acquaintance of agitators, visiting their homes and
+watching their activities, getting samples of the literature they
+were circulating, stealing their letters and address-books and
+note-books, and taking all these to Room 427 of the American House.
+
+These were busy times just now. In spite of the whippings and the
+lynchings and the jailings--or perhaps because of these very
+things--the radical movement was seething. The I. W. Ws. had
+reorganized secretly, and were accumulating a defense fund for their
+prisoners; also, the Socialists of all shades of red and pink were
+busy, and the labor men had never ceased their agitation over the
+Goober case. Just now they were redoubling their activities, because
+Mrs. Goober was being tried for her life. Over in Russia a mob of
+Anarchists had made a demonstration in front of the American
+Legation, because of the mistreatment of a man they called “Guba.”
+ At any rate, that was the way the news came over the cables, and the
+news-distributing associations of the country had been so successful
+in keeping the Goober case from becoming known that the editors of
+the New York papers really did not know any better, and printed the
+name as it came, “Guba!” which of course gave the radicals a fine
+chance to laugh at them, and say, how much they cared about labor!
+
+The extreme Reds seemed to have everything their own way in Russia.
+Late in the fall they overthrew the Russian government, and took
+control of the country, and proceeded to make peace with Germany;
+which put the Allies in a frightful predicament, and introduced a
+new word into the popular vocabulary, the dread word “Bolshevik.”
+ After that, if a man suggested municipal ownership of ice-wagons,
+all you had to do was to call him a “Bolshevik” and he was done for.
+
+However, the extremists replied to this campaign of abuse by taking
+up the name and wearing it as a badge. The Socialist local of
+American City adopted amid a storm of applause a resolution to call
+itself the “Bolshevik local,” and the “left-wingers” had everything
+their own way for a time. The leader in this wing was a man named
+Herbert Ashton, editor of the American City “Clarion,” the party’s
+paper. A newspaper-man, lean, sallow, and incredibly bitter, Ashton
+apparently had spent all his life studying the intrigues of
+international capital, and one never heard an argument advanced that
+he was not ready with an answer. He saw the war as a struggle
+between the old established commercialism of Great Britain, whose
+government he described as “a gigantic trading corporation,” and the
+newly arisen and more aggressive commercialism of Germany.
+
+Ashton would take the formulas of the war propagandists and treat
+them as a terrier treats a rat. So this was a war for democracy! The
+bankers of Paris had for the last twenty years been subsidizing the
+Russian Tsars, who had shipped a hundred thousand exiles to Siberia
+to make the world safe for democracy! The British Empire also had
+gone to war for democracy--first in Ireland, then in India and
+Egypt, then in the Whitechapel slums! No, said Ashton, the workers
+were not to be fooled with such bunk. Wall Street had loaned some
+billions of dollars to the Allied bankers, and now the American
+people were asked to shed their blood to make the world safe for
+those loans!
+
+Peter had been urging McGivney to put an end to this sort of
+agitation, and now the rat-faced man told him that the time for
+action had come. There was to be a big mass meeting to celebrate the
+Bolshevik revolution, and McGivney warned Peter to keep out of sight
+at that meeting, because there might be some clubbing. Peter left
+off his red badge, and the button with the clasped hands and went up
+into the gallery and lost himself in the crowd. He saw a great many
+“bulls” whom he knew scattered thru the audience, and also he saw
+the Chief of Police and the head of the city’s detective bureau.
+When Herbert Ashton was half way thru his tirade, the Chief strode
+up to the platform and ordered him under arrest, and a score of
+policemen put themselves between the prisoner and the howling
+audience.
+
+Altogether they arrested seven people; and next morning, when they
+saw how much enthusiasm their action had awakened in the newspapers,
+they decided to go farther yet. A dozen of Guffey’s men, with
+another dozen from the District Attorney’s office, raided the office
+of Ashton’s paper, the “Clarion,” kicked the editorial staff
+downstairs or threw them out of the windows, and proceeded to smash
+the typewriters and the printing presses, and to carry off the
+subscription lists and burn a ton or two of “literature” in the back
+yard. Also they raided the headquarters of the “Bolshevik local,”
+ and placed the seven members of the executive committee under
+arrest, and the judge fixed the bail of each of them at twenty-five
+thousand dollars, and every day for a week or two the American City
+“Times” would send a man around to Guffey’s office, and Guffey would
+furnish him with a mass of material which Peter had prepared,
+showing that the Socialist program was one of terrorism and murder.
+
+Almost every day now Peter rendered some such service to his
+country. He discovered where the I. W. W. had hidden a printing
+press with which they were getting out circulars and leaflets, and
+this place was raided, and the press confiscated, and half a dozen
+more agitators thrown into jail. These men declared a hunger strike,
+and tried to starve themselves to death as a protest against the
+beatings they got; and then some hysterical women met in the home of
+Ada Ruth, and drew up a circular of protest, and Peter kept track of
+the mailing of this circular, and all the copies were confiscated in
+the post-office, and so one more conspiracy was foiled. They now had
+several men at work in the post-office, secretly opening the mail of
+the agitators; and every now and then they would issue an order
+forbidding mail to be delivered to persons whose ideas were not
+sound.
+
+Also the post-office department cancelled the second class mailing
+privileges of the “Clarion,” and later it barred the paper from the
+mails entirely. A couple of “comrades” with automobiles then took up
+the work of delivering the paper in the nearby towns; so Peter was
+sent to get acquainted with these fellows, and in the night time
+some of Guffey’s men entered the garage, and fixed one of the cars
+so that its steering gear went wrong and very nearly broke the
+driver’s neck. So yet another conspiracy was foiled!
+
+
+
+
+Section 69
+
+
+Peter was really happy now, because the authorities were thoroughly
+roused, and when he brought them new facts, he had the satisfaction
+of seeing something done about it. Ostensibly the action was taken
+by the Federal agents, or by the District Attorney’s office, or by
+the city police and detectives; but Peter knew that it was always
+himself and the rest of Guffey’s agents, pulling the wires behind
+the scenes. Guffey had the money, he was working for the men who
+really counted in American City; Guffey was the real boss. And all
+over the country it was the same; the Reds were being put out of
+business by the secret agents of the Chambers of Commerce and the
+Merchants’ and Manufacturers’ Associations, and the “Improve America
+League,” and such like camouflaged organizations.
+
+They had everything their own way, because the country was at war,
+the war excitement was blazing like a prairie fire all over the
+land, and all you had to do was to call a man a pro-German or a
+Bolshevik, and to be sufficiently excited about it, and you could
+get a mob together and go to his home and horsewhip him or tar and
+feather him or lynch him. For years the big business men had been
+hating the agitators, and now at last they had their chance, and in
+every town, in every shop and mill and mine they had some Peter
+Gudge at work, a “Jimmie Higgins” of the “Whites,” engaged in spying
+and “snooping” upon the “Jimmie Higgins” of the “Reds.” Everywhere
+they had Guffeys and McGivneys to direct these activities, and they
+had “strong arm men,” with guns on their hips and deputy sheriffs’
+and other badges inside their coats, giving them unlimited right to
+protect the country from traitors.
+
+There were three or four million men in the training camps, and
+every week great convoys were sent out from the Eastern ports,
+loaded with troops for “over there.” Billions of dollars worth of
+munitions and supplies were going, and all the yearnings and
+patriotic fervors of the country were likewise going “over there.”
+ Peter read more speeches and sermons and editorials, and was proud
+and glad, knowing that he was taking his humble part in the great
+adventure. When he read that the biggest captains of industry and
+finance were selling their services to the government for the sum of
+one dollar a year, how could he complain, who was getting twenty
+dollars every week? When some of the Reds in their meetings or in
+their “literature” declared that these captains of industry and
+finance were the heads of companies which were charging the
+government enormous prices and making anywhere from three to ten
+times the profits they had made before the war--then Peter would
+know that he was listening to an extremely dangerous Bolshevik; he
+would take the name of the man to McGivney, and McGivney would pull
+his secret wires, and the man would suddenly find himself out of a
+job--or maybe being prosecuted by the health department of the city
+for having set out a garbage can without a cover.
+
+After persistent agitation, the radicals had succeeded in persuading
+a judge to let out McCormick and the rest of the conspirators on
+fifty thousand dollars bail apiece. That was most exasperating to
+Peter, because it was obvious that when you put a Red into jail, you
+made him a martyr to the rest of the Reds you made him conspicuous
+to the whole community, and then if you let him out again, his
+speaking and agitating were ten times as effective as before. Either
+you ought to keep an agitator in jail for good, or else you ought
+not put him in at all. But the judges didn’t see that--their heads
+were full of a lot of legal bunk, and they let David Andrews and the
+other Red lawyers hood-wink them. Herbert Ashton and his Socialist
+crowd also got out on bail, and the “Clarion” was still published
+and openly sold on the news-stands. While it didn’t dare oppose the
+war any more, it printed every impolite thing it could possibly
+collect about the “gigantic trading corporation” known as the
+British Government, and also about the “French bankers” and the
+“Italian imperialists.” It clamored for democracy for Ireland and
+Egypt and India, and shamelessly defended the Bolsheviki, those
+pro-German conspirators and nationalizers of women.
+
+So Peter proceeded to collect more evidence against the “Clarion”
+ staff, and against the I. W. Ws. Presently he read the good news
+that the government had arrested a couple of hundred of the I. W. W.
+leaders all over the country, and also the national leaders of the
+Socialists, and was going to try them all for conspiracy. Then came
+the trial of McCormick and Henderson and Gus and the rest; and Peter
+picked up his “Times” one morning, and read on the front page some
+news that caused him to gasp. Joe Angell, one of the leaders in the
+dynamite conspiracy, had turned state’s evidence! He had revealed to
+the District Attorney, not only the part which he himself had played
+in the plan to dynamite Nelse Ackerman’s home, but he had told
+everything that the others had done--just how the dynamite had been
+got and prepared, and the names of all the leading citizens of the
+community who were to share Nelse Ackerman’s fate! Peter read, on
+and on, breathless with wonder, and when he got thru with the story
+he rolled back on his bed and laughed out loud. By heck, that was
+the limit! Peter had framed a frame-up on Guffey’s man, and of
+course Guffey couldn’t send this man to prison; so he had had him
+turn state’s evidence, and was letting him go free, as his reward
+for telling on the others!
+
+The court calendars were now crowded with “espionage” cases;
+pacifist clergymen who had tried to preach sermons, and
+labor leaders who had tried to call strikes; members of the
+Anti-conscription League and their pupils, the draft-dodgers and
+slackers; Anarchists and Communists and Quakers, I. W. Ws., and
+Socialists and “Russellites.” There were several trials going on all
+the time, and in almost every case Peter had a finger, Peter was
+called on to get this bit of evidence, or to investigate that juror,
+or to prepare some little job against a witness for the defense.
+Peter was wrapped up in the fate of each case, and each conviction
+was a personal triumph. As there was always a conviction, Peter
+began to swell up again with patriotic fervor, and the memory of
+Nell Doolin and Ted Crothers slipped far into the background. When
+“Mac” and his fellow dynamiters were sentenced to twenty years
+apiece, Peter felt that he had atoned for all his sins, and he
+ventured timidly to point out to McGivney that the cost of living
+was going up all the time, and that he had kept his promise not to
+wink at a woman for six months. McGivney said all right, they would
+raise him to thirty dollars a week.
+
+
+
+
+Section 70
+
+
+Of course Peter’s statement to McGivney had not been literally true.
+He had winked at a number of women, but the trouble was none had
+returned his wink. First he had made friendly advances toward Miriam
+Yankovich, who was buxom and not bad looking; but Miriam’s thoughts
+were evidently all with McCormick in jail; and then, after her
+experience with Bob Ogden, Miriam had to go to a hospital, and of
+course Peter didn’t want to fool with an invalid. He made himself
+agreeable to others of the Red girls, and they seemed to like him;
+they treated him as a good comrade, but somehow they did not seem to
+act up to McGivney’s theories of “free love.” So Peter made up his
+mind that he would find him a girl who was not a Red. It would give
+him a little relief now and then, a little fun. The Reds seldom had
+any fun--their idea of an adventure was to get off in a room by
+themselves and sing the International or the Red Flag in whispers,
+so the police couldn’t hear them.
+
+It was Saturday afternoon, and Peter went to a clothing store kept
+by a Socialist, and bought himself a new hat and a new suit of
+clothes on credit. Then he went out on the street, and saw a neat
+little girl going into a picture-show, and followed her, and they
+struck up an acquaintance and had supper together. She was what
+Peter called a “swell dresser,” and it transpired that she worked in
+a manicure parlor. Her idea of fun corresponded to Peter’s, and
+Peter spent all the money he had that Saturday evening, and made up
+his mind that if he could get something new on the Reds in the
+course of the week, he would strike McGivney for forty dollars.
+
+Next morning was Easter Sunday, and Peter met his manicurist by
+appointment, and they went for a stroll on Park Avenue, which was
+the aristocratic street of American City and the scene of the
+“Easter parade.” It was war time, and many of the houses had flags
+out, and many of the men were in uniform, and all of the sermons
+dealt with martial themes. Christ, it appeared, was risen
+again to make the world safe for democracy, and to establish
+self-determination for all people; and Peter and Miss Frisbie both
+had on their best clothes, and watched the crowds in the “Easter
+parade,” and Miss Frisbie studied the costumes and make-up of the
+ladies, and picked up scraps of their conversation and whispered
+them to Peter, and made Peter feel that he was back on Mount Olympus
+again.
+
+They turned into one of the swell Park Avenue churches; the Church
+of the Divine Compassion it was called, and it was very “high,” with
+candles and incense--althogh you could hardly smell the incense on
+this occasion for the scent of the Easter lilies and the ladies.
+Peter and his friend were escorted to one of the leather covered
+pews, and they heard the Rev. de Willoughby Stotterbridge, a famous
+pulpit orator, deliver one of those patriotic sermons which were
+quoted in the “Times” almost every Monday morning. The Rev. de
+Willoughby Stotterbridge quoted some Old Testament text about
+exterminating the enemies of the Lord, and he sang the triumph of
+American arms, and the overwhelming superiority of American
+munitions. He denounced the Bolsheviks and all other traitors, and
+called for their instant suppression; he didn’t say that he had
+actually been among the crowd which had horse-whipped the I. W. Ws.
+and smashed the printing presses and typewriters of the Socialists,
+but he made it unmistakably clear that that was what he wanted, and
+Peter’s bosom swelled with happy pride. It was something to a man to
+know that he was serving his country and keeping the old flag
+waving; but it was still more to know that he was enlisted in the
+service of the Almighty, that Heaven and all its hosts were on his
+side, and that everything he had done had the sanction of the
+Almighty’s divinely ordained minister, speaking in the Almighty’s
+holy temple, in the midst of stained-glass windows and brightly
+burning candles and the ravishing odor of incense, and of Easter
+lilies and of mignonette and lavender in the handkerchiefs of
+delicately gowned and exquisite ladies from Mount Olympus. This, to
+be sure, was mixing mythologies, but Peter’s education had been
+neglected in his youth, and Peter could not be blamed for taking the
+great ones of the earth as they were, and believing what they taught
+him.
+
+The white robed choir marched out, and the music of “Onward
+Christian Soldiers” faded away, and Peter and his lady went out from
+the Church of the Divine Compassion, and strolled on the avenue
+again, and when they had sufficiently filled their nostrils with the
+sweet odors of snobbery, they turned into the park, where there were
+places of seclusion for young couples interested in each other. But
+alas, the fates which dogged Peter in his love-making had prepared
+an especially cruel prank that morning. At the entrance to the park,
+whom should Peter meet but Comrade Schnitzelmann, a fat little
+butcher who belonged to the “Bolshevik local” of American City.
+Peter tried to look the other way and hurry by, but Comrade
+Schnitzelmann would not have it so. He came rushing up with one
+pudgy hand stretched out, and a beaming smile on his rosy Teutonic
+countenance. “Ach, Comrade Gudge!” cried he. “Wie geht’s mit you dis
+morning?”
+
+“Very well, thank you,” said Peter, coldly, and tried to hurry on.
+
+But Comrade Schnitzelmann held onto his hand. “So! You been seeing
+dot Easter barade!” said he. “Vot you tink, hey? If we could get all
+de wage slaves to come und see dot barade, we make dem all
+Bolsheviks pretty quick! Hey, Comrade Gudge?”
+
+“Yes, I guess so,” said Peter, still more coldly.
+
+“We show dem vot de money goes for--hey, Comrade Gudge!” And Comrade
+Schnitzelmann chuckled, and Peter said, quickly, “Well, good-bye,”
+ and without introducing his lady-love took her by the arm and
+hurried away.
+
+But alas, the damage had been done! They walked for a minute or two
+amid ominous silence. Then suddenly the manicurist stood still and
+confronted Peter. “Mr. Gudge,” she demanded, “what does that mean?”
+
+And Peter of course could not answer. He did not dare to meet her
+flashing eyes, but stood digging the toe of his shoe into the path.
+“I want to know what it means,” persisted the girl. “Are you one of
+those Reds?”
+
+And what could poor Peter say? How could he explain his acquaintance
+with that Teutonic face and that Teutonic accent?
+
+The girl stamped her foot with impatient anger. “So you’re one of
+those Reds! You’re one of those pro-German traitors! You’re an
+imposter, a spy!”
+
+Peter was helpless with embarrassment and dismay. “Miss Frisbie,” he
+began, “I can’t explain--”
+
+“_Why_ can’t you explain? Why can’t any honest man explain?”
+
+“But--but--I’m not what you think--it isn’t true! I--I--” It was on
+the tip of Peter’s tongue to say, “I’m a patriot! I’m a 100%
+American, protecting my country against these traitors!” But
+professional honor sealed his tongue, and the little manicurist
+stamped her foot again, and her eyes flashed with indignation.
+
+“You dare to seek my acquaintance! You dare to take me to church!
+Why--if there was a policeman in sight, I’d report you, I’d send you
+to jail!” And actually she looked around for a policeman! But it is
+well known that there never is a policeman in sight when you look
+for one; so Miss Frisbie stamped her foot again and snorted in
+Peter’s face. “Goodbye, _Comrade_ Gudge!” The emphasis she put upon
+that word “comrade” would have frozen the fieriest Red soul; and she
+turned with a swish of her skirts and strode off, and Peter stood
+looking mournfully at her little French heels going crunch, crunch,
+crunch on the gravel path. When the heels were clean gone out of
+sight, Peter sought out the nearest bench and sat down and buried
+his face in his hands, a picture of woe. Was there ever in the world
+a man who had such persistent ill luck with women?
+
+
+
+
+Section 71
+
+
+These were days of world-agony, when people bought the newspapers
+several times every day, and when crowds gathered in front of
+bulletin boards, looking at the big maps with little flags, and
+speculating, were the Germans going to get to Paris, were they going
+to get to the Channel and put France out of the war? And then
+suddenly the Americans struck their first blow, and hurled the
+Germans back at Chateau-Thierry, and all America rose up with one
+shout of triumph!
+
+You would think that was a poor time for pacifist agitation; but the
+members of the Anti-conscription League had so little discretion
+that they chose this precise moment to publish a pamphlet,
+describing the torturing of conscientious objectors in military
+prisons and training camps! Peter had been active in this
+organization from the beginning, and he had helped to write into the
+pamphlet a certain crucial phrase which McGivney had suggested. So
+now here were the pamphlets seized by the Federal government, and
+all the members of the Anti-conscription League under arrest,
+including Sadie Todd and little Ada Ruth and Donald Gordon! Peter
+was sorry about Sadie Todd, in spite of the fact that she had called
+him names. He couldn’t be very sorry about Ada Ruth, because she was
+obviously a fanatic, bent on getting herself into trouble. As for
+Donald Gordon, if he hadn’t learned his lesson from that whipping,
+he surely had nobody to blame but himself.
+
+Peter was a member of this Anti-conscription League, so he pretended
+to be in hiding, and carried on a little comedy with Ada Ruth’s
+cousin, an Englishwoman, who hid him out in her place in the
+country. Peter had an uncomfortable quarter of an hour when Donald
+Gordon was released on bail, because the Quaker boy insisted that
+the crucial phrase which had got them all into trouble had been
+stricken out of the manuscript before he handed it to Peter Gudge to
+take to the printer. But Peter insisted that Donald was mistaken,
+and apparently he succeeded in satisfying the others, and after they
+were all out on bail, he made bold to come out of his hiding place
+and to attend one or two protest meetings in private homes.
+
+Then began a new adventure, in some ways the most startling of all.
+It had to do with another girl, and the beginning was in the home of
+Ada Ruth, where a few of the most uncompromising of the pacifists
+gathered to discuss the question of raising money to pay for their
+legal defense. To this meeting came Miriam Yankovich, pale from an
+operation for cancer of the breast, but with a heart and mind as Red
+as ever. Miriam had brought along a friend to help her, because she
+wasn’t strong enough to walk; and it was this friend who started
+Peter on his new adventure.
+
+Rosie Stern was her name, and she was a solid little Jewish working
+girl, with bold black eyes, and a mass of shining black hair, and
+flaming cheeks and a flashing smile. She was dressed as if she knew
+about her beauty, and really appreciated it; so Peter wasn’t
+surprised when Miriam, introducing her, remarked that Rosie wasn’t a
+Red and didn’t like the Reds, but had just come to help her, and to
+see what a pacifist meeting was like. Perhaps Peter might help to
+make a Red out of her! And Peter was very glad indeed, for he was
+never more bored with the whining of pacifists than now when our
+boys were hurling the Germans back from the Marne and writing their
+names upon history’s most imperishable pages.
+
+Rosie was something new and unforeseen, and Peter went right after
+her, and presently he realized with delight that she was interested
+in him. Peter knew, of course, that he was superior to all this
+crowd, but he wasn’t used to having the fact recognized, and as
+usual when a woman smiled upon him, the pressure of his self-esteem
+rose beyond the safety point. Rosie was one of those people who take
+the world as it is and get some fun out of it, so while the pacifist
+meeting went on, Peter sat over in the corner and told her in
+whispers his funny adventures with Pericles Priam and in the Temple
+of Jimjambo. Rosie could hardly repress her laughter, and her black
+eyes flashed, and before the evening was over their hands had
+touched several times. Then Peter offered to escort her and Miriam,
+and needless to say they took Miriam home first. The tenement
+streets were deserted at this late hour, so they found a chance for
+swift embraces, and Peter went home with his feet hardly touching
+the ground.
+
+Rosie worked in a paper-box factory, and next evening Peter took her
+out to dinner, and their eager flirtation went on. But Rosie showed
+a tendency to retreat, and when Peter pressed her, she told him the
+reason. She had no use for Reds; she was sick of the jargon of the
+Reds, she would never love a Red. Look at Miriam Yankovich--what a
+wreck she had made of her life! She had been a handsome girl, she
+might have got a rich husband, but now she had had to be cut to
+pieces! And look at Sadie Todd, slaving herself to death, and Ada
+Ruth with her poems that made you tired. Rosie jeered at them all,
+and riddled them with the arrows of her wit, and of course Peter in
+his heart agreed with everything she said; yet Peter had to pretend
+to disagree, and that made Rosie cross and spoiled their fun, and
+they almost quarreled.
+
+Under these circumstances, naturally it was hard for Peter not to
+give some hint of his true feeling. After he had spent all of his
+money on Rosie and a lot of his time and hadn’t got anywhere, he
+decided to make some concession to her--he told her he would give up
+trying to make a Red out of her. Whereupon Rosie made a face at him.
+“Very kind indeed of you, Mr. Gudge! But how about my making a
+`White’ out of you?” And she went on to inform him that she wanted
+a fellow that could make money and take care of a girl. Peter
+answered that he was making money all right. Well, how was he making
+money, asked Rosie. Peter wouldn’t tell, but he was making it, and
+he would prove it by taking her to the theater every night.
+
+So the little duel went on, evening after evening. Peter got more
+and more crazy about this black-eyed beauty, and she got more and
+more coquettish, and more and more impatient with his radical
+leanings. Rosie’s father had brought her as a baby from Kisheneff,
+but she was 100% American all the same, so she told him; those boys
+in khaki who were over there walloping the Huns were the boys for
+her, and she was waiting for one of them to come back. What was the
+matter with Peter that he wasn’t doing his part? Was he a
+draft-dodger? Rosie had never had anything to do with slackers, and
+wasn’t keen for the company of a man who couldn’t give an account of
+himself. Only that day she had been reading in the paper about the
+atrocities committed by the Huns. How could any man with red blood
+in his veins sympathize with these pacifists and traitors? And if
+Peter didn’t sympathize with them, why did he travel round with them
+and give them his moral support? When Peter made a feeble effort at
+repeating some of the pacifists’ arguments, Rosie just said, “Oh,
+fudge! You’ve got too much sense to talk that kind of stuff to me.”
+ And Peter knew, of course, that he _had_ too much sense, and it was
+hard to keep from letting Rosie see it. He had just lost one girl
+because of his Red entanglements. Was it up to him to lose another?
+
+For a couple of weeks they sparred and fought. Rosie would let Peter
+kiss her, and Peter’s head would be quite turned with desire. He
+decided that she was the most wonderful girl he had ever known; even
+Nell Doolin had nothing on her. But then once more she would pin
+Peter down on this business of his Redness, and would spurn him, and
+refuse to see him any more. At last Peter admitted to her that he
+had lost his sympathy with the Reds, she had converted him, and he
+despised them. So Rosie replied that she was delighted; they would
+go at once to see Miriam Yankovich, and Peter would tell her, and
+try to convert her also. Peter was then in a bad dilemma; he had to
+insist that Rosie should keep his conversion a secret. But Rosie
+became indignant, she set her lips and declared that a conversion
+that had to be kept secret was no conversion at all, it was simply a
+low sham, and Peter Gudge was a coward, and she was sick of him! So
+poor Peter went away, heartbroken and bewildered.
+
+
+
+
+Section 72
+
+
+There was only one way out of this plight for Peter, and that was
+for him to tell Rosie the truth. And why should he not do it? He was
+wild about her, and he knew that she was wild about him, and only
+one thing--his great secret--stood in the way of their perfect
+bliss. If he told her that great secret, he would be a hero of
+heroes in her eyes; he would be more wonderful even than the men who
+were driving back the Germans from the Marne and writing their names
+upon history’s most imperishable pages! So why should he not tell?
+
+He was in her room one evening, and his arms were about her, and she
+had almost but not quite yielded. “Please, please, Peter,” she
+pleaded, “stop being one of those horrid Reds!” And Peter could
+stand it no longer. He told her that he really wasn’t a Red, but a
+secret agent employed by the very biggest business men of American
+City to keep track of the Reds and bring their activities to naught.
+And when he told this, Rosie stared at him in consternation. She
+refused to believe him; when he insisted, she laughed at him, and
+finally became angry. It was a silly yarn, and did he imagine he
+could string her along like that?
+
+So Peter, irritated, set out to convince her. He told her about
+Guffey and the American City Land & Investment Company; he told her
+about McGivney, and how he met McGivney regularly at Room 427 of the
+American House. He told her about his thirty dollars a week, and how
+it was soon to be increased to forty, and he would spend it all on
+her. And perhaps she might pretend to be converted by him, and
+become a Red also, and if she could satisfy McGivney that she was
+straight, he would pay her too, and it would be a lot better than
+working ten and a half hours a day in Isaac & Goldstein’s paper box
+factory.
+
+At last Peter succeeded in convincing the girl. She was subdued and
+frightened; she hadn’t been prepared for anything like that, she
+said, and would have to have a little time to think it over. Peter
+then became worried in turn. He hoped she wouldn’t mind, he said,
+and set to work to explain to her how important his work was, how it
+had the sanction of all the very best people in the city--not merely
+the great bankers and business men, but mayors and public officials
+and newspaper editors and college presidents, and great Park Avenue
+clergymen like the Rev. de Willoughby Stotterbridge of the Church of
+the Divine Compassion. And Rosie said that was all right, of course,
+but she was a little scared and would have to think it over. She
+brought the evening to an abrupt end, and Peter went home much
+disconcerted.
+
+Perhaps an hour later there came a sharp tap on the door of his
+lodging-house room, and he went to the door, and found himself
+confronted by David Andrews, the lawyer, Donald Gordon, and John
+Durand, the labor giant, president of the Seamen’s Union. They never
+even said, “Howdy do,” but stalked into the room, and Durand shut
+the door behind him, and stood with his back to it, folded his arms
+and glared at Peter like the stone image of an Aztec chieftain. So
+before they said a word Peter knew what had happened. He knew that
+the jig was up for good this time; his career as savior of the
+nation was at an end. And again it was all on account of a
+woman--all because he hadn’t taken Guffey’s advice about winking!
+
+But all other thoughts were driven from Peter’s mind by one emotion,
+which was terror. His teeth began giving their imitation of an angry
+woodchuck, and his knees refused to hold him; he sat down on the
+edge of the bed, staring from one to another of these three stone
+Aztec faces. “Well, Gudge,” said Andrews, at last, “so you’re the
+spy we’ve been looking for all this time!”
+
+Peter remembered Nell’s injunction, “Stick it out, Peter! Stick it
+out!”
+
+“Wh-wh-what do you mean, Mr. Andrews?”
+
+“Forget it, Gudge,” said Andrews. “We’ve just been talking with
+Rosie, and Rosie was our spy.”
+
+“She’s been lying to you!” Peter cried.
+
+But Andrews said: “Oh rubbish! We’re not that easy! Miriam Yankovich
+was listening behind the door, and heard your talk.”
+
+So then Peter knew that the case was hopeless, and there was nothing
+left but to ascertain his fate. Had they come just to scold him and
+appeal to his conscience? Or did they plan to carry him away and
+strangle him and torture him to death? The latter was the terror
+that had been haunting Peter from the beginning of his career, and
+when gradually be made out that the three Aztecs did not intend
+violence, and that all they hoped for was to get him to admit how
+much he had told to his employers--then there was laughter inside
+Peter, and he broke down and wept tears of scalding shame, and said
+that it had all been because McCormick had told that cruel lie about
+him and little Jennie Todd. He had resisted the temptation for a
+year, but then he had been out of a job, and the Goober Defense
+Committee had refused him any work; he had actually been starving,
+and so at last he had accepted McGivney’s offer to let him know
+about the seditious activities of the extreme Reds. But he had never
+reported anybody who hadn’t really broken the law, and he had never
+told McGivney anything but the truth.
+
+Then Andrews proceeded to examine him. Peter denied that he had ever
+reported anything about the Goober case. He denied most strenuously
+that he had ever had anything to do with the McCormick “frame-up.”
+ When they tried to pin him down on this case and that, he suddenly
+summoned his dignity and declared that Andrews had no right to
+cross-question him, he was a 100%, red-blooded American patriot, and
+had been saving his country and his God from German agents and
+Bolshevik traitors.
+
+Donald Gordon almost went wild at that. “What you’ve been doing was
+to slip stuff into our pamphlet about conscientious objectors, so as
+to get us all indicted!”
+
+“That’s a lie!” cried Peter. “I never done nothing of the kind!”
+
+“You know perfectly well you rubbed out those pencil marks that I
+drew through that sentence in the pamphlet.”
+
+“I never done it!” cried Peter, again and again.
+
+And suddenly big John Durand clenched his hands, and his face became
+terrible with his pent-up rage. “You white-livered little sneak!” he
+hissed. “What we ought to do with you is to pull the lying tongue
+out of you!” He took a step forward, as if he really meant to do it.
+
+But David Andrews interfered. He was a lawyer, and knew the
+difference between what he could do and what Guffey’s men could do.
+“No, no, John,” he said, “nothing like that. I guess we’ve got all
+we can get out of this fellow. We’ll leave him to his own conscience
+and his Jingo God. Come on, Donald.” And he took the white-faced
+Quaker boy with one hand, and the big labor giant with the other,
+and walked them out of the room, and Peter heard them tramping down
+the stairs of his lodging house, and he lay on his bed and buried
+his face in the pillows, and felt utterly wretched, because once
+more he had been made a fool of, and as usual it was a woman that
+had done it.
+
+
+
+
+Section 73
+
+
+Peter could see it all very clearly when he came to figure over the
+thing; he could see what a whooping jackass he had been. He might
+have known that it was up to him to be careful, at this time of all
+times, when he was suspected of having rubbed out Donald Gordon’s
+pencil marks. They had picked out a girl whom Peter had never seen
+before, and she had come and posed as Miriam’s friend, and had
+proceeded to take Peter by the nose and lead him to the edge of the
+precipice and shove him over. And now she would be laughing at him,
+telling all her friends about her triumph, and about Peter’s thirty
+dollars a week that he would never see again.
+
+Peter spent a good part of the night getting up the story that he
+was to tell McGivney next morning. He wouldn’t mention Rosie Stern,
+of course; he would say that the Reds had trailed him to Room 427,
+and it must be they had a spy in Guffey’s office. Peter repeated
+this story quite solemnly, and again realized too late that he had
+made a fool of himself. It wasn’t twenty-four hours before every Red
+in American City knew the true, inside history of the unveiling of
+Peter Gudge as a spy of the Traction Trust. The story occupied a
+couple of pages in that week’s issue of the “Clarion,” and included
+Peter’s picture, and an account of the part that Peter had played in
+various frame-ups. It was nearly all true, and the fact that it was
+guess-work on Donald Gordon’s part did not make it any the better
+for Peter. Of course McGivney and Guffey and all his men read the
+story, and knew Peter for the whooping jackass that Peter knew
+himself.
+
+“You go and get yourself a job with a pick and shovel,” said
+McGivney, and Peter sorrowfully took his departure. He had only a
+few dollars in his pocket, and these did not last very long, and he
+had got down to his last nickel, and was confronting the wolf of
+starvation again, when McGivney came to his lodging house room with
+a new proposition. There was one job left, and Peter might take it
+if he thought he could stand the gaff.
+
+It was the job of state’s witness. Peter had been all thru the Red
+movement, he knew all these pacifists and Socialists and
+Syndicalists and I. W. Ws. who were now in jail. In some cases the
+evidence of the government was far from satisfactory; so Peter might
+have his salary back again, if he were willing to take the witness
+stand and tell what he was told to tell, and if he could manage to
+sit in a courtroom without falling in love with some of the lady
+jurors, or some of the lady spies of the defense. These deadly
+shafts of sarcasm Peter did not even feel, because he was so
+frightened by the proposition which McGivney put up to him. To come
+out into the open and face the blinding glare of the Red hate! To
+place himself, the ant, between the smashing fists of the battling
+giants!
+
+Yes, it might seem dangerous, said McGivney, for a cowardly little
+whelp like himself; but then a good many men had had the nerve to do
+it, and none of them had died yet. McGivney himself did not pretend
+to care very much whether Peter did it or not; he put the matter up
+to him on Guffey’s orders. The job was worth forty dollars a week,
+and he might take it or leave it.
+
+And there sat Peter, with only a nickel and a couple of pennies in
+his pocket, and the rent for his room two weeks over-due, and his
+landlady lying in wait in the hallway like an Indian with a
+tomahawk. Peter objected, what about all those bad things in his
+early record, Pericles Priam and the Temple of Jimjambo, which had
+ruined him as a witness in the Goober case. McGivney answered dryly
+that he couldn’t let himself out with that excuse; he was invited to
+pose as a reformed “wobbly,” and the more crimes and rascalities he
+had in his record, the more convinced the jury would be that he had
+been a real “wobbly.”
+
+Peter asked, just when would he be expected to appear? And McGivney
+answered, the very next week. They were trying seventeen of the
+“wobblies” on a conspiracy charge, and Peter would be expected to
+take the stand and tell how he had heard them advocate violence, and
+heard them boast of having set fire to barns and wheat fields, and
+how they had put phosphorus bombs into haystacks, and copper nails
+into fruit trees, and spikes into sawmill logs, and emery powder
+into engine bearings. Peter needn’t worry about what he would have
+to say, McGivney would tell him everything, and would see him
+thoroughly posted, and he would find himself a hero in the
+newspapers, which would make clear that he had done everything from
+the very highest possible motives of 100% Americanism, and that no
+soldier in the war had been performing a more dangerous service.
+
+To Peter it seemed they might say that without troubling their
+conscience very much. But McGivney went on to declare that he
+needn’t be afraid; it was no part of Guffey’s program to give the
+Reds the satisfaction of putting his star witness out of business.
+Peter would be kept in a safe place, and would always have a
+body-guard. While he was in the city, giving his testimony, they
+would put him up at the Hotel de Soto.
+
+And that of course settled it. Here was poor Peter, with only a
+nickel and two coppers in his pocket, and before him stood a chariot
+of fire with magic steeds, and all he had to do was to step in, and
+be whirled away to Mount Olympus. Peter stepped in!
+
+
+
+
+Section 74
+
+
+McGivney took him to Guffey’s office, and Guffey wasted no time upon
+preliminaries, but turned to his desk, and took out a long
+typewritten document, a complete account of what the prosecution
+meant to prove against the seventeen I. W. Ws. First, Peter told
+what he himself had seen and heard--not very much, but a beginning,
+a hook to hang his story upon. The I. W. W. hall was the meeting
+place for the casual and homeless labor of the country, the
+“bindle-stiffs” who took the hardest of the world’s hard knocks, and
+sometimes returned them. There was no kind of injustice these
+fellows hadn’t experienced, and now and then they had given blow for
+blow. Also there were loose talkers among them, who worked off their
+feelings by threats of vengeance upon their enemies. Now and then a
+real criminal came along, and now and then a paid inciter, a Peter
+Gudge or a Joe Angell. Peter told the worst that he had heard, and
+all he knew about the arrested men, and Guffey wrote it all down,
+and then proceeded to build upon it. This fellow Alf Guinness had
+had a row with a farmer in Wheatland County; there had been a barn
+burned nearby, and Guffey would furnish an automobile and a couple
+of detectives to travel with Peter, and they would visit the scene
+of that fire and the nearby village, and familiarize themselves with
+the locality, and Peter would testify how he had been with Guinness
+when he and a half dozen of the defendants had set fire to that
+barn.
+
+Peter hadn’t intended anything quite so serious as that, but Guffey
+was so business-like, and took it all so much as a matter of course,
+that Peter was afraid to show the white feather. After all, this was
+war-time; hundreds of men were giving up their lives every day in
+the Argonne, and why shouldn’t Peter take a little risk in order to
+put out of business his country’s most dangerous enemies?
+
+So Peter and his two detectives blew themselves to a joy ride in the
+country. And then Peter was brought back and made comfortable in a
+room on the twelfth floor of the Hotel de Soto, where he diligently
+studied the typewritten documents which McGivney brought him, and
+thoroughly learned the story he was to tell. There was always one of
+Guffey’s men walking up and down in the hallway outside with a gun
+on his hip, and they brought Peter three meals a day, not forgetting
+a bottle of beer and a package of cigarettes. Twice a day Peter read
+in the newspapers about the heroic deeds of our boys over there, and
+also about the latest bomb plots which had been discovered all over
+the country, and about various trials under the espionage act.
+
+Also, Peter had the thrill of reading about himself in a real
+newspaper. Hitherto he had been featured in labor papers, and
+Socialist papers like the “Clarion,” which did not count; but now
+the American City “Times” came out with a long story of how the
+district attorney’s office had “planted” a secret agent with the I.
+W. W., and how this man, whose name was Peter Gudge, had been
+working as one of them for the past two years, and was going to
+reveal the whole story of I. W. W. infamy on the witness stand.
+
+Two days before the trial Peter was escorted by McGivney and another
+detective to the district attorney’s office, and spent the best part
+of the day in conference with Mr. Burchard and his deputy, Mr.
+Stannard, who were to try the case. McGivney had told Peter that the
+district attorney was not in the secret, he really believed that
+Peter’s story was all true; but Peter suspected that this was
+camouflage, to save Mr. Burchard’s face, and to protect him in case
+Peter ever tried to “throw him down.” Peter noticed that whenever he
+left any gap in his story, the district attorney and the deputy told
+him to fill it, and he managed to guess what to fill it with.
+
+Henry Clay Burchard came from the far South, and followed a style of
+oratory long since gone out of date. He wore his heavy black hair a
+little long, and when he mounted the platform he would pull out the
+tremulo stop, stretching out his hands and saying in tones of
+quivering emotion: “The ladies, God bless them!” Also he would say:
+“I am a friend of the common man. My heart beats with sympathy for
+those who constitute the real backbone of America, the toilers of
+the shop and farm.” And then all the banqueters of the Chamber of
+Commerce and the Merchants’ and Manufacturers’ Association would
+applaud, and would send their checks to the campaign fund of this
+friend of the common man. Mr. Burchard’s deputy, Mr. Stannard, was a
+legal fox who told his chief what to do and how to do it; a dried-up
+little man who looked like a bookworm, and sat boring you thru with
+his keen eyes, watching for your weak points and preparing to pierce
+you thru with one of his legal rapiers. He would be quite friendly
+about it--he would joke with you in the noon hour, assuming that you
+would of course understand it was all in the line of business, and
+no harm meant.
+
+
+
+
+Section 75
+
+
+The two men heard Peter’s story and changed it a little, and then
+heard him over again and pronounced him all right, and Peter went
+back to his hotel room and waited in trepidation for his hour in the
+limelight. When they took him to court his knees were shaking, but
+also he had a thrill of real importance, for they had provided him
+with a body-guard of four big huskies; also he saw two “bulls” whom
+he recognized in the hallway outside the court-room, and many others
+scattered thru the audience. The place was packed with Red
+sympathizers, but they had all been searched before they were
+allowed to enter, and were being watched every moment during the
+trial.
+
+When Peter stepped into the witness box he felt as Tom Duggan and
+Donald Gordon must have felt that night when the white glare from
+thirty or forty automobiles was beating upon them. Peter felt the
+concentrated Red hate of two or three hundred spectators, and now
+and then their pent-up fury would break restraint; there would be a
+murmur of protest, or perhaps a wave of sneering laughter, and the
+bailiff would bang on the table with his wooden mallet, and the
+judge would half rise from his seat, and declare that if that
+happened again he would order the court-room cleared.
+
+Not far in front of Peter at a long table sat the seventeen
+defendants, looking like trapped rats, and every one of their
+thirty-four rat eyes were fixed upon Peter’s face, and never moved
+from it. Peter only glanced that way once; they bared their rats’
+teeth at him, and he quickly looked in another direction. But there
+also he saw a face that brought him no comfort; there sat Mrs. Godd,
+in her immaculate white chiffons, her wide-open blue eyes fixed upon
+his face, her expression full of grief and reproach. “Oh, Mr.
+Gudge!” she seemed to be saying. “How can you? Mr. Gudge, is this
+Peace. . . justice. . . Truth. . . Law?” And Peter realized with a
+pang that he had cut himself off forever from Mount Olympus, and
+from the porch chair with the soft silken pillows! He turned away
+toward the box where sat the twelve jurymen and women. One old lady
+gave him a benevolent smile, and a young farmer gave him a sly wink,
+so Peter knew that he had friends in that quarter--and after all,
+they were the ones who really counted in this trial. Mrs. Godd was
+as helpless as any “wobbly,” in the presence of this august court.
+
+Peter told his story, and then came his cross-questioning, and who
+should rise and start the job but David Andrews, suave and humorous
+and deadly. Peter had always been afraid of Andrews, and now he
+winced. Nobody had told him he was to face an ordeal like this!
+Nobody had told him that Andrews would be allowed to question him
+about every detail of these crimes which he said he had witnessed,
+and about all the conversations that had taken place, and who else
+was present, and what else had been said, and how he had come to be
+there, and what he had done afterwards, and what he had had to eat
+for breakfast that morning. Only two things saved Peter, first the
+constant rapid-fire of objections which Stannard kept making, to
+give Peter time to think; and second, the cyclone-cellar which
+Stannard had provided for him in advance. “You can always fail to
+remember,” the deputy had said; “nobody can punish you for
+forgetting something.” So Peter would repeat the minute details of a
+conversation in which Alf Guinness had told of burning down the
+barn, but he didn’t remember who else had heard the conversation,
+and he didn’t remember what else had been said, nor what was the
+date of the conversation.
+
+Then came the blessed hour of noon, with a chance for Peter to get
+fixed up again before the court resumed at two. He was questioned
+again by Stannard, who patched up all the gaps in his testimony, and
+then again he failed to remember things, and so avoided the traps
+which Andrews set for his feet. He was told that he had “done fine,”
+ and was escorted back to the Hotel de Soto in triumph, and there for
+a week he stayed while the defense made a feeble effort to answer
+his testimony. Peter read in the papers the long speeches in which
+the district attorney and the deputy acclaimed him as a patriot,
+protecting his country from its “enemies within;” also he read a
+brief reference to the “tirade” of David Andrews, who had called him
+a “rat” and a “slinking Judas.” Peter didn’t mind that, of
+course--it was all part of the game, and the calling of names is a
+pretty sure sign of impotence.
+
+Less easy to accept placidly, however, was something which came to
+Peter that same day--a letter from Mrs. Godd! It wasn’t written to
+him, but he saw Hammett and another of the “bulls” chuckling
+together, and he asked what was the joke, and they told him that
+Mrs. Godd had somehow found out about Guffey, and had written him a
+letter full of insults, and Guffey was furious. Peter asked what was
+in it, and they told him, and later on when he insisted, they
+brought it and showed it to him, and Peter was furious too. On very
+expensive stationery with a stately crest at the top, the mother of
+Mount Olympus had written in a large, bland, girlish hand her
+opinion of “under cover” men and those who hired them:
+
+“You sit like a big spider and weave a net to catch men and destroy
+them. You destroy alike your victims and your tools. The poor boy,
+Peter Gudge, whom you sent to my home--my heart bleeds when I think
+of him, and what you have put him up to! A wretched, feeble-minded
+victim of greed, who ought to be sent to a hospital for deformed
+souls, you have taken him and taught him a piece of villainy to
+recite, so that he may send a group of sincere idealists to prison.”
+
+That was enough! Peter put down the letter--he would not dignify
+such stuff by reading it. He realized that he would have to put his
+mind on the problem of Mrs. Godd once more. One woman like that, in
+her position of power, was more dangerous than all the seventeen
+“wobblies” who had been haled before the court. Peter inquired, and
+learned that Guffey had already been to see Nelse Ackerman about it,
+and Mr. Ackerman had been to see Mr. Godd, and Mr. Godd had been to
+see Mrs. Godd. Also the “Times” had an editorial referring to the
+“nest of Bolshevism” upon Mount Olympus, and all Mrs. Godd’s friends
+were staying away from her luncheon-parties--so she was being made
+to suffer for her insolence to Peter Gudge!
+
+“A hospital for deformed souls,” indeed! Peter was so upset that his
+joy in life was not restored even by the news that the jury had
+found the defendants guilty on the first ballot. He told McGivney
+that the strain of this trial had been too much for his nerves, and
+they must take care of him; so an automobile was provided, and Peter
+was taken to a secret hiding place in the country to recuperate.
+
+Hammett went with him, and Hammett was a first-class gunman, and
+Peter stayed close by him; in the evening he stayed up in the second
+story of the farm-house, lest perchance one of the “wobblies” should
+take too literally the testimony Peter had given concerning their
+habit of shooting at their enemies out of the darkness. Peter knew
+how they all must hate him; he read in the paper how the judge
+summoned the guilty men before him and sentenced them, incidentally
+forcing them to listen to a scathing address, which was published in
+full in the “Times.” The law provided a penalty of from one to
+fourteen years, and the judge sentenced sixteen of them to fourteen
+years, and one to ten years, thus tempering justice with mercy.
+
+Then one day McGivney sent an automobile, and Peter was brought to
+Guffey’s office, and a new plan was unfolded to him. They had
+arrested another bunch of “wobblies” in the neighboring city of
+Eldorado, and Peter was wanted there to repeat his testimony. It
+happened that he knew one of the accused men, and that would be
+sufficient to get his testimony in--his prize stuff about the
+burning barns and the phosphorus bombs. He would be taken care of
+just as thoroughly by the district attorney’s office of Eldorado
+County; or better yet, Guffey would write to his friend Steve
+Ellman, who did the detective work for the Home and Fireside
+Association, the big business organization of that city.
+
+Peter hemmed and hawed. This was a pretty hard and dangerous kind of
+work, it really played the devil with a man’s nerves, sitting up
+there in the hotel room all day, with nothing to do but smoke
+cigarettes and imagine the “wobblies” throwing bombs at you. Also,
+it wouldn’t last very long; it ought to be better paid. Guffey
+answered that Peter needn’t worry about the job’s lasting; if he
+cared to give this testimony, he might have a joy ride from one end
+of the country to the other, and everywhere he would live on the fat
+of the land, and be a hero in the newspapers.
+
+But still Peter hemmed and hawed. He had learned from the American
+City “Times” how valuable a witness he was, and he ventured to
+demand his price, even from the terrible Guffey; he stuck it out, in
+spite of Guffey’s frowns, and the upshot was that Guffey said, All
+right, if Peter would take the trip he might have seventy-five
+dollars a week and expenses, and Guffey would guarantee to keep him
+busy for not less than six months.
+
+
+
+
+Section 76
+
+
+So Peter went to Eldorado, and helped to send eleven men to the
+penitentiary for periods varying from three to fourteen years. Then
+he went to Flagland, and testified in three different trials, and
+added seven more scalps to his belt. By this time he got to realize
+that the worst the Reds could do was to make faces at him and show
+the teeth of trapped rats. He learned to take his profession more
+easily, and would sometimes venture to go out for an evening’s
+pleasure without his guards. When he was hidden in the country he
+would take long walks regardless of the thousands of blood-thirsty
+Reds on his trail.
+
+It was while Peter was testifying in Flagland that a magic word was
+flashed from Europe, and the whole city went mad with joy. Everyone,
+from babies to old men, turned out on the streets and waved flags
+and banged tin cans and shouted for peace with victory. When it was
+learned that the newspapers had fooled them, they waited three days,
+and then turned out and went thru the same performance again. Peter
+was a bit worried at first, for fear the coming of peace might end
+his job of saving the country; but presently he realized that there
+was no need for concern, the smashing of the Reds was going on just
+the same.
+
+They had some raids on the Socialists while Peter was in Flagland,
+and the detectives told him he might come along for the fun of it.
+So Peter armed himself with a black-jack and a revolver, and helped
+to rush the Socialist headquarters. The war was over, but Peter felt
+just as military as if it were still going on; when he got the
+little Jewish organizer of the local pent up in a corner behind his
+desk and proceeded to crack him over the head, Peter understood
+exactly how our boys had felt in the Argonne. When he discovered the
+thrill of dancing on typewriter keys with his boots, he even
+understood how the Huns had felt.
+
+The detectives were joined by a bunch of college boys, who took to
+that kind of thing with glee. Having got their blood up, they
+decided they might as well clean out the Red movement entirely, so
+they rushed a place called the “International Book-Shop,” kept by a
+Hawaiian. The proprietor dodged into the kitchen of a Chinese
+restaurant next door, and put on an apron; but no one had ever seen
+a Chinaman with a black mustache, so they fell on him and broke
+several of the Chinaman’s sauce-pans over his head. They took the
+contents of the “International Book-Shop” into the back yard and
+started a bon-fire with it, and detectives and college boys on a
+lark joined hands and danced an imitation of the Hawaiian hula-hula
+around the blaze.
+
+So Peter lived a merry life for several months. He had one or two
+journeys for nothing, because an obstinate judge refused to admit
+that anything that any I. W. W. had ever said or done anywhere
+within the last ten years was proper testimony to be introduced
+against a particular I. W. W. on trial. But most judges were willing
+to co-operate with the big business men in ridding the country of
+the Red menace, and Peter’s total of scalps amounted to over a
+hundred before his time was up, and Guffey sent him his last cheek
+and turned him loose.
+
+That was in the city of Richport, and Peter having in an inside
+pocket something over a thousand dollars in savings, felt that he
+had earned a good time. He went for a stroll on the Gay White Way of
+the city, and in front of a moving picture palace a golden-haired
+girl smiled at him. This was still in the days of two and
+three-fourths per cent beer, and Peter invited her into a saloon to
+have a glass, and when he opened his eyes again it was dark, and he
+had a splitting headache, and he groped around and discovered that
+he was lying in a dark corner of an alleyway. Terror gripped his
+heart, and he clapped his hand to the inside pocket where his wallet
+had been, and there was nothing but horrible emptiness. So Peter was
+ruined once again, and as usual it was a woman that had done it!
+
+Peter went to the police-station, but they never found the woman, or
+if they did, they divided with her and not with Peter. He threw
+himself on the mercy of the sergeant at the desk, and succeeded in
+convincing the sergeant that he, Peter, was a part of the machinery
+of his country’s defense, and the sergeant agreed to stand sponsor
+for ten words to Guffey. So Peter sat himself down with a pencil and
+paper, and figured over it, and managed to get it into ten words, as
+follows: “Woman again broke any old job any pay wire fare.” And it
+appeared that Guffey must have sat himself down with a pencil and
+paper and figured over it also, for the answer came back in ten
+words, as follows: “Idiot have wired secretary chamber commerce will
+give you ticket.”
+
+So Peter repaired forthwith to the stately offices of the Chamber of
+Commerce, and the hustling, efficient young business-man secretary
+sent his clerk to buy Peter a ticket and put him on the train. In a
+time of need like that Peter realized what it meant to have the
+backing of a great and powerful organization, with stately offices
+and money on hand for all emergencies, even when they arose by
+telegraph. He took a new vow of sobriety and decency, so that he
+might always have these forces of law and order on his side.
+
+
+
+
+Section 77
+
+
+Peter was duly scolded, and put to work as an “office man” at his
+old salary of twenty dollars a week. It was his duty to consult with
+Guffey’s many “operatives,” to tell them everything he knew about
+this individual Red or that organization of Reds. He would use his
+inside knowledge of personalities and doctrines and movements to
+help in framing up testimony, and in setting traps for too ardent
+agitators. He could no longer pose as a Red himself, but sometimes
+there were cases where he could do detective work without being
+recognized; when, for example, there was a question of fixing a
+juror, or of investigating the members of a panel.
+
+The I. W. Ws. had been put out of business in American City, but the
+Socialists were still active, in spite of prosecutions and
+convictions. Also there was a new peril looming up; the returned
+soldiers were coming back, and a lot of them were dissatisfied,
+presuming to complain of their treatment in the army, and of the
+lack of good jobs at home, and even of the peace treaty which the
+President was arranging in Paris. They had fought to make the world
+safe for democracy, and here, they said, it had been made safe for
+the profiteers. This was plain Bolshevism, and in its most dangerous
+form, because these fellows had learned to use guns, and couldn’t
+very well be expected to become pacifists right off the bat.
+
+There had been a great labor shortage during the war, and some of
+the more powerful unions had taken the general rise in prices as an
+excuse for demanding higher wages. This naturally had made the
+members of the Chamber of Commerce and the Merchants’ and
+Manufacturers’ Association indignant, and now they saw their chance
+to use these returned soldiers to smash strikes and to break the
+organizations of the labor men. They proceeded to organize the
+soldiers for this purpose; in American City the Chamber of Commerce
+contributed twenty-five thousand dollars to furnish the club-rooms
+for them, and when the trolley men went on strike the cars were run
+by returned soldiers in uniform.
+
+There was one veteran, a fellow by the name of Sydney, who objected
+to this program. He was publishing a paper, the “Veteran’s Friend,”
+ and began to use the paper to protest against his comrades acting as
+what he called “scabs.” The secretary of the Merchants’ and
+Manufacturers’ Association sent for him and gave him a straight
+talking to, but he went right ahead with his campaign, and so
+Guffey’s office was assigned the task of shutting him up. Peter,
+while he could not take an active part in the job, was the one who
+guided it behind the scenes. They proceeded to plant spies in
+Sydney’s office, and they had so many that it was really a joke;
+they used to laugh and say that they trod on one another’s toes.
+Sydney was poor, and had not enough money to run his paper, so he
+accepted any volunteer labor that came along. And Guffey sent him
+plenty of volunteers--no less than seven operatives--one keeping
+Sydney’s books, another helping with his mailing, two more helping
+to raise funds among the labor unions, others dropping in every day
+or two to advise him. Nevertheless Sydney went right ahead with his
+program of denouncing the Merchants’ and Manufacturers’ Association,
+and denouncing the government for its failure to provide farms and
+jobs for the veterans.
+
+One of Guffey’s “under cover operatives”--that was the technical
+term for the Peter Gudges and Joe Angells--was a man by the name of
+Jonas. This Jonas called himself a “philosophic anarchist,” and
+posed as the reddest Red in American City; it was his habit to rise
+up in radical meetings and question the speaker, and try to tempt
+him to justify violence and insurrection and “mass-action.” If he
+repudiated these ideas, then Jonas would denounce him as a
+“mollycoddle,” a “pink tea Socialist,” a “labor faker.” Other people
+in the audience would applaud, and so Guffey’s men would find out
+who were the real Red sympathizers.
+
+Peter had long suspected Jonas, and now he was sent to meet him in
+Room 427 of the American House, and together they framed up a job on
+Sydney. Jonas wrote a letter, supposed to come from a German
+“comrade,” giving the names of some papers in Europe to which the
+editor should send sample copies of his magazine. This letter was
+mailed to Sydney, and next morning Jonas wandered into the office,
+and Sydney showed him the letter, and Jonas told him that these were
+labor papers, and the editors would no doubt be interested to know
+of the feelings of American soldiers since the war. Sydney sat down
+to write a letter, and Jonas stood by his side and told him what to
+write: “To my erstwhile enemies in arms I send fraternal greetings,
+and welcome you as brothers in the new co-operative commonwealth
+which is to be”--and so on, the usual Internationalist patter, which
+all these agitators were spouting day and night, and which ran off
+the ends of their pens automatically. Sydney mailed these letters,
+and the sample copies of the magazine, and Guffey’s office tipped
+off the postoffice authorities, who held up the letters. The
+book-keeper, one of Guffey’s operatives, went to the Federal
+attorney and made affidavit that Sydney had been carrying on a
+conspiracy with the enemy in war-time, and a warrant was issued, and
+the offices of the magazine were raided, the subscription-lists
+confiscated, and everything in the rooms dumped out into the middle
+of the floor.
+
+So there was a little job all Peter’s own; except that Jonas, the
+scoundrel, claimed it for his, and tried to deprive Peter of the
+credit! So Peter was glad when the Federal authorities looked the
+case over and said it was a bum job, and they wouldn’t monkey with
+it. However, the evidence was turned over to District-attorney
+Burchard, who wasn’t quite so fastidious, and his agents made
+another raid, and smashed up the office again, and threw the
+returned soldier into jail. The judge fixed the bail at fifteen
+thousand dollars, and the American City “Times” published the story
+with scare-headlines all the way across the front page--how the
+editor of the “Veteran’s Friend” had been caught conspiring with the
+enemy, and here was a photographic copy of his treasonable letter,
+and a copy of the letter of the mysterious German conspirator with
+whom he had been in relations! They spent more than a year trying
+that editor, and although he was out on bail, Guffey saw to it that
+he could not get a job anywhere in American City; his paper was
+smashed and his family near to starvation.
+
+
+
+
+Section 78
+
+
+Peter had now been working faithfully for six or eight months, and
+all that time he religiously carried out his promise to Guffey and
+did not wink at a woman. But that is an unnatural life for a man,
+and Peter was lonely, his dreams were haunted by the faces of Nell
+Doolin and Rosie Stern, and even of little Jennie Todd. One day
+another face came back to him, the face of Miss Frisbie, the little
+manicurist who had spurned him because he was a Red. Now suddenly
+Peter realized that he was no longer a Red! On the contrary, he was
+a hero, his picture had been published in the American City “Times,”
+ and no doubt Miss Frisbie had seen it. Miss Frisbie was a good girl,
+a straight girl, and surely all right for him to know!
+
+So Peter went to the manicure parlor, and sure enough, there was the
+little golden-haired lady; and sure enough, she had read all about
+him, she had been dreaming that some day she might meet him
+again--and so Peter invited her to go to a picture show. On the way
+home they became very chummy, and before a week went by it was as if
+they had been friends for life. When Peter asked Miss Frisbie if he
+might kiss her, she answered coyly that he might, but after he had
+kissed her a few times she explained to him that she was a
+self-supporting woman, alone and defenseless in the world, and she
+had nobody to speak for her but herself; she must tell him that she
+had always been a respectable woman, and that she wanted him to know
+that before he kissed her any more. And Peter thought it over and
+decided that he had sowed his full share of wild oats in this life;
+he was ready to settle down, and the next time he saw Miss Frisbie
+he told her so, and before the evening was by they were engaged.
+
+Then Peter went to see Guffey, and seated himself on the edge of the
+chair alongside Guffey’s desk, and twisted his hat in his hands, and
+flushed very red, and began to stammer out his confession. He
+expected to be received with a gale of ridicule; he was immensely
+relieved when Guffey said that if Peter had really found a good girl
+and wanted to marry her, he, Guffey, was for it. There was nothing
+like the influence of a good woman, and Guffey much preferred his
+operatives should be married men, living a settled and respectable
+life. They could be trusted then, and sometimes when a woman
+operative was needed, they had a partner ready to hand. If Peter had
+got married long ago, he might have had a good sum of money in the
+bank by now.
+
+Peter ventured to point out that twenty dollars a week was not
+exactly a marrying salary, in the face of the present high cost of
+living. Guffey answered that that was true, and he would raise Peter
+to thirty dollars right away--only first he demanded the right to
+talk to Peter’s fiancee, and judge for himself whether she
+was worthy. Peter was delighted, and Miss Frisbie had a private and
+confidential interview with Peter’s boss. But afterwards Peter
+wasn’t quite so delighted, for he realized what Guffey had done.
+Peter’s future wife had been told all about Peter’s weakness, and
+how Peter’s boss looked to her to take care of her husband and make
+him walk the chalkline. So a week after Peter had entered the holy
+bonds of matrimony, when he and Mrs. Gudge had their first little
+family tiff, Peter suddenly discovered who was going to be top dog
+in that family. He was shown his place once for all, and he took
+it,--alongside that husband who described his domestic arrangements
+by saying that he and his wife got along beautifully together, they
+had come to an arrangement by which he was to have his way on all
+major issues, and she was to have her way on all minor issues, and
+so far no major issues had arisen.
+
+But really it was a very good thing; for Gladys Frisbie Gudge was an
+excellent manager, and set to work making herself a nest as busily
+as any female beaver. She still hung on to her manicurist job, for
+she had figured it out that the Red movement must be just about
+destroyed by now, and pretty soon Peter might find himself without
+work. In the evenings she took to house-hunting, and during her noon
+hour, without consulting Peter she selected the furniture and the
+wall-paper, and pretty nearly bought out the stock of a
+five-and-ten-cent store to equip the beaver’s nest.
+
+Gladys Frisbie Gudge was a diligent reader of the fashion magazines,
+and kept herself right up to the minute with the styles; also she
+had got herself a book on etiquette, and learned it by heart from
+cover to cover, and now she took Peter in hand and taught it to him.
+Why must he always be a “Jimmie Higgins” of the “Whites?” Why
+should he not acquire the vocabulary of an educated man, the arts
+and graces of the well-to-do? Gladys knew that it is these
+subtleties which determine your salary in the long run; so every
+Sunday morning she would dress him up with a new brown derby and a
+new pair of brown kid gloves, and take him to the Church of the
+Divine Compassion, and they would listen to the patriotic sermon of
+the Rev. de Willoughby Stotterbridge, and Gladys would bow her head
+in prayer, and out of the corner of her eye would get points on
+costumes from the lady in the next pew. And afterwards they would
+join the Sunday parade, and Gladys would point out to Peter the
+marks of what she called “gentility.” In the evenings they would go
+walking, and she would stop in front of the big shop-windows, or
+take him into the hotel lobbies where the rich could be seen free of
+charge. Peter would be hungry, and would want to go to a cheap
+restaurant and fill himself up with honest grub; but Gladys, who had
+the appetite of a bird, would insist on marching him into the
+dining-room of the Hotel de Soto and making a meal upon a cup of
+broth and some bread and butter--just in order that they might gaze
+upon a scene of elegance and see bow “genteel” people ate their
+food.
+
+
+
+
+Section 79
+
+
+And just as ardently as Gladys Frisbie Gudge adored the rich, so
+ardently did she object to the poor. If you pinned her down to it,
+she would admit that there had to be poor; there could not be
+gentility, except on the basis of a large class of ungentility. The
+poor were all right in their place; what Gladys objected to was
+their presuming to try to get out of their place, or to criticise
+their betters. She had a word by which she summed up everything that
+she despised in the world, and that word was “common;” she used it
+to describe the sort of people she declined to meet, and she used it
+in correcting Peter’s manners and his taste in hats. To be “common”
+ was to be damned; and when Gladys saw people who were indubitably
+and inescapably “common,” presuming to set themselves up and form
+standards of their own, she took it as a personal affront, she
+became vindictive and implacable towards them. Each and every one of
+them became to her a personal enemy, an enemy to something far more
+precious than her person, an enemy to the thing she aspired to
+become, to her ideal.
+
+Peter had once been like that himself, but now he was so
+comfortable, he had a tendency to become lazy and easy-going. It was
+well, therefore, that he had Gladys to jack him up, and keep him on
+his job. Gladys at first did not meet any Reds face to face, she
+knew them only by the stories that Peter brought home to her when
+his day’s work was done. But each new group that he was hounding
+became to Gladys an assemblage of incarnate fiends, and while she
+sat polishing the finger-nails of stout society ladies who were too
+sleepy to talk, Gladys’ busy mind would be working over schemes to
+foil these fiends.
+
+Sometimes her ideas were quite wonderful. She had a woman’s
+intuition, the knowledge of human foibles, all the intricate
+subtleties of the emotional life; she would bring to Peter a program
+for the undoing of some young radical, as complete as if she had
+known the man or woman all her life. Peter took her ideas to
+McGivney, and then to Guffey, and the result was that her talents
+were recognized, and by the lever of a generous salary she was pried
+loose from the manicure parlor. Guffey sent her to make the
+acquaintance of the servants in the household of a certain rich man
+who was continually making contributions to the Direct Primary
+Association and other semi-Red organizations, and who was believed
+to have a scandal in his private life. So successful was Gladys at
+this job that presently Guffey set her at the still more delicate
+task of visiting rich ladies, and impressing upon them the
+seriousness of the Red peril, and persuading them to meet the
+continually increasing expenses of Guffey’s office.
+
+Just now was a busy time in the anti-Red campaign. For nearly two
+years, ever since the Bolshevik revolution in Russia, there had been
+gradually developing a split in the Socialist movement, and the
+“under-cover” operatives of the Traction Trust, as well as those of
+the district attorney’s office and of the Federal government, had
+been working diligently to widen this split and develop dissensions
+in the organization. There were some Socialists who believed in
+politics, and were prepared to devote their lives to the slow and
+tedious job of building up a party. There were others who were
+impatient, looking for a short cut, a general strike or a mass
+insurrection of the workers which would put an end to the slavery of
+capitalism. The whole game of politics was rotten, these would
+argue; a politician could find more ways to fool the workers in a
+minute than the workers could thwart in a year. They pointed to the
+German Socialists, those betrayers of internationalism. There were
+people who called themselves Socialists right here in American City
+who wanted to draw the movement into the same kind of trap!
+
+This debate was not conducted in the realm of abstractions; the two
+wings of the movement would attack one another with bitterness. The
+“politicians” would denounce the “impossibilists,” calling them
+“anarchists;” and the other side, thus goaded, would accuse their
+enemies of being in the hire of the government. Peter would supply
+McGivney with bits of scandal which the “under cover” men would
+start going among the “left-wingers;” and in the course of the long
+wrangles in the local these accusations would come out. Herbert
+Ashton would mention them with his biting sarcasm, or “Shorty”
+ Gunton would shout them in one of his tirades--“hurling them into
+his opponents teeth,” as he phrased it.
+
+“Shorty” Gunton was a tramp printer, a wandering agitator who was
+all for direct action, and didn’t care a hang who knew it.
+“Violence?” he would say. “How many thousand years shall we submit
+to the violence of capitalist governments, and never have the right
+to reply?” And then again he would say, “Violence? Yes, of course
+we must repudiate violence--until we get enough of it!” Peter had
+listened to “Shorty’s” railings at the “compromisers” and the
+“political traders,” and had thought him one of the most dangerous
+men in American City. But later on, after the episode of Joe Angell
+had opened Peter’s eyes, he decided that “Shorty” must also be a
+secret agent like himself.
+
+Peter was never told definitely, but he picked up a fact here and
+there, and fitted them together, and before long his suspicion had
+become certainty. The “left wing” Socialists split off from the
+party, and called a convention of their own, and this convention in
+turn split up, one part forming the Communist Party, and another
+part forming the Communist Labor Party. While these two conventions
+were in session, McGivney came to Peter, and said that the Federal
+government had a man on the platform committee of the Communist
+Party, and they wanted to write in some phrases that would make
+membership in that party in itself a crime, so that everybody who
+held a membership card could be sent to prison without further
+evidence. These phrases must be in the orthodox Communist lingo, and
+this was where Peter’s specialized knowledge was needed.
+
+So Peter wrote the phrases, and a couple of days later he read in
+the newspapers an account of the convention proceedings. The
+platform committee had reported, and “Shorty” Gunton had submitted a
+minority report, and had made a fiery speech in the convention, with
+the result that his minority report was carried by a narrow margin.
+This minority report contained all the phrases that Peter had
+written. A couple of months later, when the government had its case
+ready, and the wholesale raids upon the Communists took place,
+“Shorty” Gunton was arrested, but a few days later he made a
+dramatic escape by sawing his way thru the roof of the jail!
+
+
+
+
+Section 80
+
+
+The I. W. W. had bobbed up again in American City, and had ventured
+to open another headquarters. Peter did not dare go to the place
+himself, but he coached a couple of young fellows whom McGivney
+brought to him, teaching them the Red lingo, and how to worm their
+way into the movement. Before long one of them was secretary of the
+local; and Peter, directing their activities, received reports twice
+a week of everything the “wobblies” were planning and doing. Peter
+and Gladys were figuring out another bomb conspiracy to direct
+attention to these dangerous men, when one day Peter picked up the
+morning paper and discovered that a kind Providence had delivered
+the enemy into his hands.
+
+Up in the lumber country of the far Northwest, in a little town
+called Centralia, the “wobblies” had had their headquarters raided
+and smashed, just as in American City. They had got themselves
+another meeting-place, and again the members of the Chamber of
+Commerce and the Merchants’ and Manufacturers’ Association had held
+a secret meeting and resolved to wipe them out. The “wobblies” had
+appealed to the authorities for protection, and when protection was
+refused, they had printed a leaflet appealing to the public. But the
+business men went ahead with their plans. They arranged for a parade
+of returned soldiers on the anniversary of Armistice Day, and they
+diverted this parade out of its path so that it would pass in front
+of the I. W. W. headquarters. Some of the more ardent members
+carried ropes, symbolic of what they meant to do; and they brought
+the parade to a halt in front of the headquarters, and set up a yell
+and started to rush the hall. They battered in the door, and had
+pushed their way half thru it when the “wobblies” opened fire from
+inside, killing several of the paraders.
+
+Then, of course, the mob flew into a frenzy of fury. They beat the
+men in the hall, some of them into insensibility; they flung them
+into jail, and battered and tortured them, and took one of them out
+of jail and carried him away in an automobile, and after they had
+mutilated him as Shawn Grady had been mutilated, they hanged him
+from a bridge. Of course they saw to it that the newspaper stories
+which went out from Centralia that night were the right kind of
+stories; and next morning all America read how a group of “wobblies”
+ had armed themselves with rifles, and concealed themselves on the
+roof of the I. W. W. headquarters, and deliberately and in cold
+blood had opened fire upon a peaceful parade of unarmed war
+veterans.
+
+Of course the country went wild, and the Guffeys and McGivneys and
+Gudges all over the United States realized that their chance had
+come. Peter instructed the secretary of the I. W. W. local of
+American City to call a meeting for that evening, to adopt a
+resolution declaring the press stories from Centralia to be lies. At
+the same time another of Guffey’s men, an ex-army officer still
+wearing his, uniform, caused a meeting of the American Legion to be
+summoned; he made a furious address to the boys, and at nine o’clock
+that night some two-score of them set out, armed with big
+monkey-wrenches from their automobiles, and raided the I. W. W.
+headquarters, and battered the members over the head with the
+monkey-wrenches, causing several to leap from the window and break
+their legs. Next morning the incident was reported in the American
+City “Times” with shouts of glee, and District-attorney Burchard
+issued a public statement to the effect that no effort would be made
+to punish the soldier boys; the “wobblies” had wanted “direct
+action,” and they had got it, and it would be assumed that they were
+satisfied.
+
+Then the members of the American Legion, encouraged by this
+applause, and instigated by Guffey’s ex-army officer, proceeded to
+invade and wreck every radical meeting-place in the city. They
+smashed the “Clarion” office and the Socialist Party headquarters
+again, and confiscated more tons of literature. They wrecked a
+couple of book-stores, and then, breaking up into small groups, they
+inspected all the news-stands in the city, and wherever they found
+Red magazines like the Nation or the New Republic, they tore up the
+copies and threatened the agents with arrest. They invaded the rooms
+of a literary society called the Ruskin Club, frequented mostly by
+amiable old ladies, and sent some of these elderly dames into
+hysterics. They discovered the “Russian Peoples’ Club,” which had
+hitherto been overlooked because it was an educational organization.
+But of course no Russian could be trusted these days--all of them
+were Bolsheviks, or on the way to becoming Bolsheviks, which was the
+same thing; so Guffey organized a raid on this building, and some
+two hundred Russians were clubbed and thrown downstairs or out of
+windows, and an elderly teacher of mathematics had his skull
+cracked, and a teacher of music had some teeth knocked out.
+
+There were several million young Americans who had been put into
+military uniform, and had guns put into their hands, and been put
+thru target practice and bayonet drill, and then had not seen any
+fighting. These fellows were, as the phrase has it, “spoiling for a
+fight;” and here was their chance. It was just as much fun as trench
+warfare, and had the advantage of not being dangerous. When the
+raiding parties came back, there were no missing members, and no
+casualties to be telegraphed to heartbroken parents. Some fool women
+got together and tried to organize a procession to protest against
+the blockade of Russia; the raiders fell upon these women, and
+wrecked their banners, and tore their clothing to bits, and the
+police hustled what was left of them off to jail. It happened that a
+well-known “sporting man,” that is to say a race-track frequenter,
+came along wearing a red necktie, and the raiders, taking him for a
+Bolshevik, fell upon him and pretty nearly mauled the life out of
+him. After that there was protest from people who thought it unwise
+to break too many laws while defending law and order, so the
+district attorney’s office arranged to take on the young soldier
+boys as deputy sheriffs, and give them all badges, legal and proper.
+
+
+
+
+Section 81
+
+
+Peter Gudge often went along on these hunting parties. Peter,
+curiously enough, discovered in himself the same “complex” as the
+balked soldier boys. Peter had been reading war news for five years,
+but had missed the fighting; and now he discovered that he liked to
+fight. What had kept him from liking to fight in the past was the
+danger of getting hurt; but now that there was no such danger, he
+could enjoy it. In past times people had called him a coward, and he
+had heard it so often that he had come to believe it; but now he
+realized that it was not true, he was just as brave as anybody else
+in the crowd.
+
+The truth was that Peter had not had a happy time in his youth, he
+had never learned, like the younger members of the Chamber of
+Commerce and the Merchants’ and Manufacturers’ Association, to knock
+a little white ball about a field with various shapes and sizes of
+clubs. Peter was like a business man who has missed his boyhood, and
+then in later years finds the need of recreation, and takes up some
+form of sport by the orders of his physician. It became Peter’s,
+form of sport to stick an automatic revolver in his hip-pocket, and
+take a blackjack in his hand, and rush into a room where thirty or
+forty Russians or “Sheenies” of all ages and lengths of beard were
+struggling to learn the intricacies of English spelling. Peter would
+give a yell, and see this crowd leap and scurry hither and thither,
+and chase them about and take a whack at a head wherever he saw one,
+and jump into a crowd who were bunched together like sheep, trying
+to hide their heads, and pound them over the exposed parts of their
+anatomy until they scattered into the open again. He liked to get a
+lot of them started downstairs and send them tumbling heels over
+head; or if he could get them going out a window, that was more
+exhilarating yet, and he would yell and whoop at them. He learned
+some of their cries--outlandish gibberish it was--and he would curse
+them in their own language. He had a streak of the monkey in him,
+and as he got to know these people better he would imitate their
+antics and their gestures of horror, and set a whole room full of
+the “bulls” laughing to split their sides. There was a famous
+“movie” comedian with big feet, and Peter would imitate this man,
+and waddle up to some wretched sweat-shop worker and boot him in the
+trousers’ seat, or step on his toes, or maybe spit in his eye. So he
+became extremely popular among the “bulls,” and they would insist on
+his going everywhere with them.
+
+Later on, when the government set to work to break up the Communist
+Party and the Communist Labor Party, Peter’s popularity and prestige
+increased still more. For now, instead of just raiding and smashing,
+the police and detectives would round up the prisoners and
+arrest them by hundreds, and carry them off and put them thru
+“examinations.” And Peter was always needed for this; his special
+knowledge made him indispensable, and he became practically the boss
+of the proceedings. It had been arranged thru “Shorty” Gunton and
+the other “under cover” men that the meetings of the Communist and
+Communist Labor parties should be held on the same night; and all
+over the country this same thing was done, and next morning the
+world was electrified by the news that all these meetings had been
+raided at the same hour, and thousands of Reds placed under arrest.
+In American City the Federal government had hired a suite of about a
+dozen rooms adjoining the offices of Guffey, and all night and next
+morning batches of prisoners were brought in, until there were about
+four hundred in all. They were crowded into these rooms with barely
+space to sit down; of course there was an awful uproar, moaning and
+screaming of people who had been battered, and a smell that beat the
+monkey cage at the zoological gardens.
+
+The prisoners were kept penned up in this place for several weeks,
+and all the time more were being brought in; there were so many that
+the women had to be stored in the toilets. Many of the prisoners
+fell ill, or pretended to fall ill, and several of them went insane,
+or pretended to go insane, and several of them died, or pretended to
+die. And of course the parlor Reds and sympathizers were busy
+outside making a terrible fuss about it. They had no more papers,
+and could not hold any more meetings, and when they tried to
+circulate literature the post-office authorities tied them up; but
+still somehow they managed to get publicity, and Peter’s “under
+cover” men would report to him who was doing this work, and Peter
+would arrange to have more raids and more batches of prisoners
+brought in. In one of the “bomb-plots” which had been unveiled in
+the East they had discovered some pink paper, used either for
+printing leaflets, or for wrapping explosives, one could not be
+sure. Anyhow, the secret agencies with which Guffey was connected
+had distributed samples of this paper over the country, and any time
+the police wanted to finish some poor devil, they would find this
+deadly “pink paper” in his possession, and the newspapers would
+brand him as one of the group of conspirators who were sending
+infernal machines thru the mails.
+
+
+
+
+Section 82
+
+
+Peter was so busy these days that he missed several nights’ sleep,
+and hardly even stopped to eat. He had his own private room, where
+the prisoners were brought for examination, and he had half a dozen
+men under his orders to do the “strong arm” work. It was his task to
+extract from these prisoners admissions which would justify their
+being sent to prison if they were citizens, or being deported if
+they were aliens. There was of course seldom any way to distinguish
+between citizens and aliens; you just had to take a chance on it,
+proceeding on the certainty that all were dangerous. Many years ago,
+when Peter had been working for Pericles Priam, they had spent
+several months in a boarding house, and you could tell when there
+was going to be beef-steak for dinner, because you heard the cook
+pounding it with the potato-masher to “tender it up;” and Peter
+learned this phrase, and now used the process upon his alien Reds.
+When they came into the room, Peter’s men would fall upon them and
+beat them and cuff them, knocking them about from one fist to
+another. If they were stubborn and would not “come across,” Peter
+would take them in hand himself, remembering how successful Guffey
+had been in getting things out of him by the twisting of wrists and
+the bending back of fingers.
+
+It was amazing how clever and subtle some of these fellows were.
+They were just lousy foreign laborers, but they spent all their
+spare time reading; you would find large collections of books in
+their rooms when you made your raids, and they knew exactly what you
+wanted, and would parry your questions. Peter would say: “You’re an
+Anarchist, aren’t you?” And the answer would be: “I’m not an
+Anarchist in the sense of the word you mean”--as if there could be
+two meanings of the word “Anarchist!” Peter would say, “You believe
+in violence, do you not?” And then the fellow would become
+impertinent: “It is you who believe in violence, look at my face
+that you have smashed.” Or Peter would say, “You don’t like this
+government, do you?” And the answer would be, “I always liked it
+until it treated me so badly”--all kinds of evasions like that, and
+there would be a stenographer taking it down, and unless Peter could
+get something into the record that was a confession, it would not be
+possible to deport that Red. So Peter would fall upon him and
+“tender him up” until he would answer what he was told to answer; or
+maybe Peter would prepare an interview as he wanted it to be, and
+the detectives would grab the man’s hand and make him sign it; or
+maybe Peter would just sign it himself.
+
+These were harsh methods, but there was no way to help it, the Reds
+were so cunning. They were secretly undermining the government, and
+was the government to lie down and admit its helplessness? The
+answer of 100% Americanism was thundered from every wood and templed
+hill in the country; also from every newspaper office. The answer
+was “No!” 100% Americanism would find a way to preserve itself from
+the sophistries of European Bolshevism; 100% Americanism had worked
+out its formula: “If they don’t like this country, let them go back
+where they come from.” But of course, knowing in their hearts that
+America was the best country in the world, they didn’t want to go
+back, and it was necessary to make them go.
+
+Peter was there for that purpose, and his devoted wife was by his
+side, egging him on with her feminine implacability. Gladys had
+always been accustomed to refer to these people as “cattle,” and
+now, when she smelled them herded together in these office rooms for
+several weeks, she knew that she was right, and that no fate could
+be too stern for them. Presently with Peter’s help she discovered
+another bomb-plot, this time against the Attorney-General of the
+country, who was directing these wholesale raids. They grabbed four
+Italian Anarchists in American City, and kept them apart in special
+rooms, and for a couple of months Peter labored with them to get
+what he wanted out of them. Just as Peter thought he had succeeded,
+his efforts were balked by one of them jumping out of the window.
+The room being on the fourteenth story, this Italian Anarchist was
+no longer available as a witness against himself. The incident set
+the parlor Bolsheviks all over the country to raging, and caused
+David Andrews to get some kind of court injunction, and make a lot
+of inconvenience to Guffey’s office.
+
+However, the work went on; the Reds were gradually sorted out, and
+some who proved not to be Reds were let go again, and others were
+loaded onto special Red trains and taken to the nearest ports. Some
+of them went in grim silence, others went with furious cursings, and
+yet others with wailings and shriekings; for many of them had
+families, and they had the nerve to demand that the government
+should undertake to ship their families also, or else to take care
+of their families for them! The government, naturally, admitted no
+such responsibility. The Reds had no end of money for printing
+seditious literature, so let them use it to take care of their own!
+
+In these various raids and examinations Peter of course met a great
+many of the Reds whom he had once known as friends and intimates.
+Peter had been wont to imagine himself meeting them, and to tremble
+at the bare idea; but now he found that he rather enjoyed it. He was
+entirely delivered from that fear of them, which had formerly
+spoiled his appetite and disturbed his sleep. He had learned that
+the Reds were poor creatures who did not fight back; they had no
+weapons, and many of them did not even have muscles; there was
+really nothing to them but talk. And Peter knew that he had the
+power of organized society behind him, the police and the courts and
+the jails, if necessary the army with its machine guns and airplanes
+and poison gas. Not merely was it safe to pound these people, to
+tread on their toes and spit in their eyes; it was safe also to
+frame up anything on them, because the newspapers would always back
+you up, and the public would of course believe whatever it read in
+its newspapers.
+
+No, Peter was no longer afraid of the Reds! He made up his mind that
+he was not even afraid of Mac, the most dangerous Red of them all.
+Mac was safely put away in jail for twenty years, and although his
+case had been appealed, the court had refused to grant a stay of
+sentence or to let him out on bail. As it happened, Peter got a
+glimpse into Mac’s soul in jail, and knew that even that proud, grim
+spirit was breaking. Mac in jail had written a letter to one of his
+fellow-Reds in American City, and the post-office authorities had
+intercepted the letter, and Guffey had shown it to Peter. “Write to
+us!” Mac had pleaded. “For God’s sake, write to us! The worst horror
+of being in jail is that you are forgotten. Do at least let us know
+that somebody is thinking about us!”
+
+So Peter knew that he was the victor, he was “top dog.” And when he
+met these Reds whom he had been so afraid of, he took pleasure in
+letting them feel the weight of his authority, and sometimes of his
+fist. It was amusing to see the various ways in which they behaved
+toward him. Some would try to plead with him, for the sake of old
+times; some would cringe and whine to him; some would try to reason
+with him, to touch his conscience. But mostly they would be haughty,
+they would glare at him with hate, or put a sneer of contempt on
+their faces. So Peter would set his “bulls” to work to improve their
+manners, and a little thumb-bending and wrist-twisting would soon do
+the work.
+
+
+
+
+Section 83
+
+
+Among the first load to be brought in was Miriam Yankovich. Miriam
+had joined the Communist Party, and she had been born in Russia, so
+that was all there was to her case. Peter, knew, of course that it
+was Miriam who had set Rosie Stern after him and brought about his
+downfall. Still, he could not help but be moved by her appearance.
+She looked haggard and old, and she had a cough, and her eyes were
+wild and crazy. Peter remembered her as proud and hot-tempered, but
+now her pride was all gone--she flung herself on her knees before
+him, and caught hold of his coat, sobbing hysterically. It appeared
+that she had a mother and five young brothers and sisters who were
+dependent upon her earnings; all her money had been consumed by
+hospital expenses, and now she was to be deported to Russia, and
+what would become of her loved ones?
+
+Peter answered, what could he do? She had violated the law, they had
+her membership card in the Communist Party, and she had admitted
+that she was alien born. He tried to draw away, but she clung to
+him, and went on sobbing and pleading. At least she ought to have a
+chance to talk with her old mother, to tell her what to do, where to
+go for help, how to communicate with Miriam in future. They were
+sending her away without allowing her to have a word with her loved
+ones, without even a chance to get her clothing!
+
+Peter, as we know, had always been soft-hearted towards women, so
+now he was embarrassed. In the handling of these cattle he was
+carrying out the orders of his superiors; he had no power to grant
+favors to any one, and he told Miriam this again and again. But she
+would not listen to him. “Please, Peter, please! For God’s sake,
+Peter! You know you were once a little in love with me, Peter--you
+told me so--”
+
+Yes, that was true, but it hadn’t done Peter much good. Miriam had
+been interested in Mac--in Mac, that most dangerous devil, who had
+given Peter so many anxious hours! She had brushed Peter to one
+side, she had hardly been willing to listen to what he said; and now
+she was trying to use that love she had spurned!
+
+She had got hold of his hand, and he could not get it away from her
+without violence. “If you ever felt a spark of love for a woman,”
+ she cried, “surely you cannot deny such a favor--such a little
+favor! Please, Peter, for the sake of old times!”
+
+Suddenly Peter started, and Miriam too. There came a voice from the
+doorway. “So this is one of your lady friends, is it?” And there
+stood Gladys, staring, rigid with anger, her little hands clenched.
+“So this is one of your Red sweethearts, one of your nationalized
+women?” And she stamped her foot. “Get up, you hussy! Get up, you
+slut!” And as Miriam continued to kneel, motionless with surprise,
+Gladys rushed at her, and clutched two handfuls of her heavy black
+hair, and pulled so that Miriam fell prone on the floor. “I’ll teach
+you, you free lover!” she screamed. “I’ll teach you to make love to
+my husband!” And she dragged Miriam about by that mop of black hair,
+kicking her and clawing her, until finally several of the bulls had
+to interfere to save the girl’s life.
+
+As a matter of fact Gladys had been told about Peter’s shameful past
+before she married him; Guffey had told her, and she had told Peter
+that Guffey had told her, she had reminded Peter of it many, many
+times. But the actual sight of one of these “nationalized women” had
+driven her into a frenzy, and it was a week before peace was
+restored in the Gudge family. Meantime poor Peter was buffeted by
+storms of emotion, both at home and in his office. They were getting
+ready the first Red train, and it seemed as if every foreign Red
+that Peter had ever known was besieging him, trying to get at him
+and harrow his soul and his conscience. Sadie Todd’s cousin, who had
+been born in England, was shipped out on this first train, and also
+a Finnish lumberman whom Peter had known in the I. W. W., and a
+Bohemian cigar worker at whose home he had several times eaten, and
+finally Michael Dubin, the Jewish boy with whom he had spent fifteen
+days in jail, and who had been one of the victims of the black-snake
+whippings.
+
+Michael made no end of wailing, because he had a wife and three
+babies, and he set up the claim that when the “bulls” had raided his
+home they had stolen all his savings, two or three hundred dollars.
+Peter, of course, insisted that he could do nothing; Dubin was a Red
+and an alien, and he must go. When they were loading them on the
+train, there was Dubin’s wife and half a hundred other women,
+shrieking and wringing their hands, and trying to break thru the
+guards to get near their loved ones. The police had to punch them in
+the stomachs with their clubs to hold them back, and in spite of all
+these blows, the hysterical Mrs. Dubin succeeded in breaking thru
+the guards, and she threw herself under the wheels of the train, and
+they were barely able to drag her away in time to save her life.
+Scenes like this would, of course, have a bad effect upon the
+public, and so Guffey called up the editors of all the newspapers,
+and obtained a gentleman’s agreement that none of them would print
+any details.
+
+
+
+
+Section 84
+
+
+All over the country the Red trains were moving eastward, loaded
+with “wobblies” and communists, pacifists and anarchists, and a
+hundred other varieties of Bolsheviks. They got a shipload together
+and started them off for Russia--the “Red Ark” it was called, and
+the Red soap-boxers set tip a terrific uproar, and one Red clergyman
+compared the “Red Ark” to the Mayflower! Also there was some Red
+official in Washington, who made a fuss and cancelled a whole block
+of deportation orders, including some of Peter’s own cases. This,
+naturally, was exasperating to Peter and his wife; and on top of it
+came another incident that was still more humiliating.
+
+There was a “pink” mass meeting held in American City, to protest
+against the deportations. Guffey said they would quite probably raid
+the meeting, and Peter must go along, so as to point out the Reds to
+the bulls. The work was in charge of a police detective by the name
+of Garrity, head of what was called the “Bomb Squad”; but this man
+didn’t know very much, so he had the habit of coming to Peter for
+advice. Now he had the whole responsibility of this meeting, and he
+asked Peter to come up on the platform with him, and Peter went.
+Here was a vast audience--all the Red fury which had been pent up
+for many months, breaking loose in a whirlwind of excitement. Here
+were orators, well dressed and apparently respectable men, not in
+any way to be distinguished from the born rulers of the country,
+coming forward on the platform and uttering the most treasonable
+sentences, denouncing the government, denouncing the blockade
+against Russia, praising the Bolshevik government of Russia,
+declaring that the people who went away in the “Soviet Ark” were
+fortunate, because they were escaping from a land of tyranny into a
+land of freedom. At every few sentences the orator would be stopped
+by a storm of applause that broke from the audience.
+
+And what was a poor Irish Catholic police detective to make of a
+proposition like that? Here stood an orator declaring: “Whenever any
+form of government becomes destructive to these ends, it is the
+right of the people to alter or to abolish it, and to institute new
+government, laying its foundations on such principles and organizing
+its powers in such form, as to them shall seem most likely to effect
+their safety and happiness.” And Garrity turned to Peter. “What do
+you think of that?” he said, his good-natured Irish face blank with
+dismay.
+
+Peter thought it was the limit. Peter knew that thousands of men all
+over America had been sent to prison for saying things less
+dangerous than that. Peter had read many sets of instructions from
+the office of the Attorney-General of the United States, and knew
+officially that that was precisely the thing you were never under
+any circumstances permitted to say, or to write, or even to think.
+So Peter said to Garrity: “That fellow’s gone far enough. You better
+arrest him.” Garrity spoke to his men, and they sprang forward on
+the platform, and stopped the orator and placed him and all his
+fellow-orators under arrest, and ordered the audience out of the
+building. There were a couple of hundred policemen and detectives on
+hand to carry out Garrity’s commands, and they formed a line with
+their clubs, and drove the crowd before them, and carted the
+speakers off in a patrol wagon. Then Peter went back to Guffey’s
+office, and told what he had done--and got a reception that reminded
+him of the time Guffey had confronted him with the letter from Nell
+Doolin! “Who do you think that was you pinched?” cried Guffey.
+“He’s the brother of a United States senator! And what do you think
+he was saying? That was a sentence from the Declaration of
+Independence!”
+
+
+Peter couldn’t “get it”; Peter was utterly lost. Could a man go
+ahead and break the law, just because he happened to be a brother of
+a United States senator? And what difference did it make whether a
+thing was in the Declaration of Independence, if it was seditious,
+if it wasn’t allowed to be said? This incident brought Guffey and
+the police authorities of the city so much ridicule that Guffey got
+all his men together and read them a lecture, explaining to them
+just what were the limits of the anti-Red activities, just who it
+was they mustn’t arrest, and just what it was they couldn’t keep
+people from saying. For example, a man couldn’t be arrested for
+quoting the Bible.
+
+“But Jesus Christ, Guffey,” broke in one of the men, “have all of us
+got to know the Bible by heart?”
+
+There was a laugh all round. “No,” Guffey admitted, “but at least be
+careful, and don’t arrest anybody for saying anything that sounds as
+if it came from the Bible.”
+
+“But hell!” put in another of the men, who happened to be an
+ex-preacher. “That’ll tie us up tighter than a jail-sentence! Look
+what’s in the Bible!”
+
+And he proceeded to quote some of the things, and Peter knew that he
+had never heard any Bolshevik talk more outrageous than that. It
+made one realize more than ever how complicated was this Red
+problem; for Guffey insisted, in spite of everything, that every
+word out of the Bible was immune. “Up in Winnipeg,” said he, “they
+indicted a clergyman for quoting two passages from the prophet
+Isaiah, but they couldn’t face it, they had to let the fellow go.”
+ And the same thing was true of the Declaration of Independence;
+anybody might read it, no matter how seditious it was. And the same
+thing was true of the Constitution, even tho the part called the
+Bill of Rights declared that everybody in America might do all the
+things that Guffey’s office was sending them to jail for doing!
+
+This seemed a plain crazy proposition; but Guffey explained it as a
+matter of politics. If they went too far, these fellows would go out
+and capture the votes from them, and maybe take away the government
+from them, and where would they be then? Peter had never paid any
+attention to politics before this, but both he and Gladys realized
+after this lecture that they must broaden their view-point. It was
+not enough to put the Reds in jail and crack their skulls, you had
+to keep public sympathy for what you were doing, you had to make the
+public understand that it was necessary, you had to carry on what
+was called “propaganda,” to keep the public aware of the odiousness
+of these cattle, and the desperate nature of their purposes.
+
+The man who perceived that most clearly was the Attorney-General of
+the country, and Guffey in his lecture pointed out the double nature
+of his activities. Not merely was the Attorney-General breaking up
+the Communist and the Communist Labor parties and sending their
+members to jail; he was using the funds of his office to send out an
+endless stream of propaganda, to keep the country frightened about
+these Red plots. Right now he had men in American City working over
+the data which Guffey had collected, and every week or two he would
+make a speech somewhere, or would issue a statement to the
+newspapers, telling of new bomb plots and new conspiracies to
+overthrow the government. And how clever he was about it! He would
+get the pictures of the very worst-looking of the Reds, pictures
+taken after they had been kept in jail for weeks without a shave,
+and with the third degree to spoil their tempers; and these pictures
+would be spread on a sheet with the caption: “MEN LIKE THESE WOULD
+RULE YOU.” This would be sent to ten thousand country newspapers all
+over the nation, and ninety-nine hundred would publish it, and
+ninety-nine million Americans would want to murder the Reds
+next morning. So successful had this plan proven that the
+Attorney-General was expecting to be nominated for President by
+means of it, and all the agencies of his department were working to
+that end.
+
+The same thing was being done by all the other agencies of big
+business all over the country. The “Improve America League” of
+American City was publishing full-page advertisements in the
+“Times,” and the “Home and Fireside Association” of Eldorado was
+doing the same thing in the Eldorado “Times,” and the “Patriot’s
+Defense Legion” was doing the same thing in the Flagland “Banner.”
+ They were investigating the records of all political candidates, and
+if any of them showed the faintest tinge of pink, Guffey’s office
+would set to work to rake up their records and get up scandals on
+them, and the business men would contribute a big campaign fund, and
+these candidates would be snowed under at the polls. That was the
+kind of work they were doing, and all Guffey’s operatives must bear
+in mind the importance of it, and must never take any step that
+would hamper this political campaign, this propaganda on behalf of
+law and order.
+
+
+
+
+Section 85
+
+
+Peter went out from this conference a sober man, realizing for the
+first time his responsibilities as a voter, and a shepherd to other
+voters. Peter agreed with Gladys that his views had been too narrow;
+his conception of the duties of a secret agent had been of the
+pre-war order. Now he must realize that the world was changed; now,
+in this new world made safe for democracy, the secret agent was the
+real ruler of society, the real master of affairs, the trustee, as
+it were, for civilization. Peter and his wife must take up this new
+role and make themselves fit for it. They ought of course not be
+moved by personal considerations, but at the same time they must
+recognize the fact that this higher role would be of great advantage
+to them; it would enable them to move up in the world, to meet the
+best people. Thru five or six years of her young life Gladys had sat
+polishing the fingernails and fondling the soft white hands of the
+genteel; and always a fire of determination had burnt in her breast,
+that some day she would belong to this world of gentility, she would
+meet these people, not as an employee, but as an equal, she would
+not merely hold their hands, but would have them hold hers.
+
+Now the chance had come. She had a little talk with Guffey, and
+Guffey said it would be a good idea, and he would speak to Billy
+Nash, the secretary of the “Improve America League”; and he did so,
+and next week the American City “Times” announced that on the
+following Sunday evening the Men’s Bible Class of the Bethlehem
+Church would have an interesting meeting. It would be addressed by
+an “under cover” operative of the government, a former Red who had
+been for many years a most dangerous agitator, but had seen the
+error of his ways, and had made amends by giving his services to the
+government in the recent I. W. W. trials.
+
+The Bethlehem Church didn’t amount to very much, it was an obscure
+sect like the Holy Rollers; but Gladys had been shrewd, and had
+insisted that you mustn’t try to climb to the top of the mountain in
+one step. Peter must first “try it on the dog,” and if he failed,
+there would be no great harm done.
+
+But Gladys worked just as hard to make a success of this lecture as
+if they had been going into real society. She spent several days
+getting up her costume and Peter’s, and she spent a whole day
+getting her toilet ready, and before they set out she spent at least
+an hour putting the finishing touches upon herself in front of a
+mirror, and seeing that Peter was proper in every detail. When Mr.
+Nash introduced her personally to the Rev. Zebediah Muggins, and
+when this apostle of the second advent came out upon the platform
+and introduced her husband to the crowded working-class audience,
+Gladys was so a-quiver with delight that it was more a pain than a
+pleasure.
+
+Peter did not do perfectly, of course. He lost himself a few times,
+and stammered and floundered about; but he remembered Glady’s
+advice--if he got stuck, to smile and explain that he had never
+spoken in public before. So everything went along nicely, and
+everybody in the Men’s Bible Class was aghast at the incredible
+revelations of this ex-Red and secret agent of law and order. So
+next week Peter was invited again--this time by the Young Saints’
+League; and when he had made good there, he was drafted by the Ad.
+Men’s Association, and then by the Crackers and Cheese Club. By this
+time he had acquired what Gladys called “savwaa fair”; his fame
+spread rapidly, and at last came the supreme hour--he was summoned
+to Park Avenue to address the members of the Friendly Society, a
+parish organization of the Church of the Divine Compassion!
+
+This was the goal upon which the eyes of Gladys had been fixed. This
+was the time that really counted, and Peter was groomed and
+rehearsed all over again. Their home was only a few blocks from the
+church, but Gladys insisted that they must positively arrive in a
+taxi-cab, and when they entered the Parish Hall and the Rev. de
+Willoughby Stotterbridge, that exquisite almost-English gentleman,
+came up and shook hands with them, Gladys knew that she had at last
+arrived. The clergyman himself escorted her to the platform, and
+after he had introduced Peter, he seated himself beside her, thus
+definitely putting a seal upon her social position.
+
+Peter, having learned his lecture by heart, having found out just
+what brought laughter and what brought tears and what brought
+patriotic applause, was now an assured success. After the lecture he
+answered questions, and two clerks in the employ of Billy Nash
+passed around membership cards of the “Improve America League,”
+ membership dues five dollars a year, sustaining membership
+twenty-five dollars a year, life membership two hundred dollars
+cash. Peter was shaken hands with by members of the most exclusive
+social set in American City, and told by them all to keep it up--his
+country needed him. Next morning there was an account of his lecture
+in the “Times,” and the morning after there was an editorial about
+his revelations, with the moral: “Join the Improve America League.”
+
+
+
+
+Section 86
+
+
+That second morning, when Peter got to his office, he found a letter
+waiting for him, a letter written on very conspicuous and expensive
+stationery, and addressed in a woman’s tall and sharp-pointed
+handwriting. Peter opened it and got a start, for at the top of the
+letter was some kind of crest, and a Latin inscription, and the
+words: “Society of the Daughters of the American Revolution.” The
+letter informed him by the hand of a secretary that Mrs. Warring
+Sammye requested that Mr. Peter Gudge would be so good as to call
+upon her that afternoon at three o’clock. Peter studied the letter,
+and tried to figure out what kind of Red this was. He was impressed
+by the stationery and the regal tone, but that word “Revolution” was
+one of the forbidden words. Mrs. Warren Sammye must be one of the
+“Parlor Reds,” like Mrs. Godd.
+
+So Peter took the letter to McGivney, and said suspiciously, “What
+kind of a Red plot is this?”
+
+McGivney read the letter, and said, “Red plot? How do you mean?”
+
+“Why,” explained Peter, “it says `Daughters of the American
+Revolution.’”
+
+And McGivney looked at him; at first he thought that Peter was
+joking, but when he saw that the fellow was really in earnest, he
+guffawed in his face. “You boob!” he said. “Didn’t you ever hear of
+the American Revolution? Don’t you know anything about the Fourth of
+July?”
+
+Just then the telephone rang and interrupted them, and McGivney
+shoved the letter to him saying, “Ask your wife about it!” So when
+Gladys came in, Peter gave her the letter, and she was much excited.
+It appeared that Mrs. Warring Sammye was a very tip-top society lady
+in American City, and this American Revolution of which she was a
+daughter was a perfectly respectable revolution that had happened a
+long time ago; the very best people belonged to it, and it was legal
+and proper to write about, and even to put on your letterheads.
+Peter must go home and get himself into his best clothes at once,
+and telephone to the secretary that he would be pleased to call upon
+Mrs. Warring Sammye at the hour indicated. Incidentally, there were
+a few more things for Peter to study. He must get a copy of the
+social register, “Who’s Who in American City,” and he must get a
+history of his country, and learn about the Declaration of
+Independence, and what was the difference between a revolution that
+had happened a long time ago and one that was happening now.
+
+So Peter went to call on the great society lady in her grey stone
+mansion, and found her every bit as opulent as Mrs. Godd, with the
+addition that she respected her own social position; she did not
+make the mistake of treating Peter as an equal, and so it did not
+occur to Peter that he might settle down permanently in her home.
+Her purpose was to tell Peter that she had heard of his lecture
+about the Red menace, and that she was chairman of the Board of
+Directors of the Lady Patronesses of the Home for Disabled War
+Veterans in American City, and she wanted to arrange to have Peter
+deliver this lecture to the veterans. And Peter, instructed in
+advance by Gladys, said that he would be very glad to donate this
+lecture as a patriotic contribution. Mrs. Warring Sammye thanked him
+gravely in the name of his country, and said she would let him know
+the date.
+
+Peter went home, and Gladys made a wry face, because the lecture was
+to be delivered before a lot of good-for-nothing soldiers in some
+hall, when it had been her hope that it was to be delivered to the
+Daughters themselves, and in Mrs. Warring Sammye’s home. However, to
+have attracted Mrs. Warring Sammye’s attention for anything was in
+itself a triumph. So Gladys was soon cheerful again, and she told
+Peter about Mrs. Warring Sammye’s life; one picked up such valuable
+knowledge in the gossip at the manicure parlors, it appeared.
+
+Then, being in a friendly mood, Gladys talked to Peter about
+himself. They had mounted to a height from which they could look
+back upon the past and see it as a whole, and in the intimacy and
+confidence of their domestic partnership they could draw lessons
+from their mistakes and plan their future wisely. Peter had made
+many blunders--he must surely admit that. Did Peter admit that? Yes,
+Peter did. But, continued Gladys, he had struggled bravely, and he
+had the supreme good fortune to have secured for himself that
+greatest of life’s blessings, the cooperation of a good and capable
+woman. Gladys was very emphatic about this latter, and Peter agreed
+with her. He agreed also when she stated that it is the duty of a
+good and capable wife to protect her husband for the balance of
+their life’s journey, so that he would be able to avoid the traps
+which his enemies set for his feet. Peter, having learned by bitter
+experience, would never again go chasing after a pretty face, and
+wake up next morning to find his pockets empty. Peter admitted this
+too. As this conversation progressed, he realized that the tour of
+triumph his life had become was a thing entirely of his wife’s
+creation; at least, he realized that there would be no use in trying
+to change his wife’s conviction on the subject. Likewise he meekly
+accepted her prophecies as to his future conduct; he would bring
+home his salary at the end of each week, and his wife would use it,
+together with her own salary, to improve the appearance and tone of
+both of them, and to aid them to climb to a higher social position.
+
+Peter, following his wife’s careful instructions, has already become
+more dignified in his speech, more grave in his movements. She tells
+him that the future of society depends on his knowledge and his
+skill, and he agrees to this also. He has learned what you can do
+and what you had better not do; he will never again cross the
+dead-line into crime, or take chances with experiments in blackmail.
+He will try no more free lance work under the evil influence of low
+creatures like Nell Doolin, but will stand in with the “machine,”
+ and bear in mind that honesty is the best policy. So he will
+steadily progress; he will meet the big men of the country, and will
+go to them, not cringing and twisting his hat in his hands, but
+with quiet self-possession. He will meet the agents of the
+Attorney-General aspiring to become President, and will furnish them
+with material for their weekly Red scares. He will meet legislators
+who want to unseat elected Socialists, and governors who wish to
+jail the leaders of “outlaw” strikes. He will meet magazine writers
+getting up articles, and popular novelists looking for local Red
+color.
+
+But Peter’s best bid of all will be as a lecturer. He will be able
+to travel all over the country, making a sensation. Did he know why?
+No, Peter answered, he was not sure he did. Well, Gladys could tell
+him; it was because he was romantic. Peter didn’t know just what
+this word meant, but it sounded flattering, so he smiled sheepishly,
+showing his crooked teeth, and asked how Gladys found out that he
+was romantic. The reply was a sudden order for him to stand up and
+turn around slowly.
+
+Peter didn’t like to get up from his comfortable Morris chair, but
+he did what his wife asked him. She inspected him on all sides and
+exclaimed, “Peter, you must go on a diet; you’re getting
+ombongpoing!” She said this in horrified tones, and Peter was
+frightened, because it sounded like a disease. But Gladys added:
+“You can not be a romantic figure on a lecture platform if you’ve
+got a bay-window!”
+
+Peter found it interesting to be talked about, so he asked again why
+Gladys thought he was romantic. There were several reasons, she
+said, but the main one was that he had been a dangerous criminal,
+and had reformed, which pleased the church people; he had made a
+happy ending by marriage, which pleased those who read novels.
+
+“Is that so?” said Peter, guilelessly, and she assured him that it
+was. “And what else?” he asked, and she explained that he had known
+intimately and at first hand those dreadful and dangerous people,
+those ogres of the modern world, the Bolsheviks, about whom the
+average man and woman learned only thru the newspapers. And not
+merely did he tell a sensational story, but he ended it with a
+money-making lesson. The lesson was “Contribute to the Improve
+America League. Make out your checks to the Home and Fireside
+Association. The existence of your country depends upon your
+sustaining the Patriot’s Defense Legion.” So the fame of Peter’s
+lecture would spread, and the Guffeys and Billy Nashes of every city
+and town in America would clamor for him to come, and when he came,
+the newspapers would publish his picture, and he and his wife would
+be welcomed by leaders of the best society. They would become social
+lions, and would see the homes of the rich, and gradually become one
+of the rich.
+
+Gladys looked her spouse over again, as they started to
+their sleeping apartment. Yes, he was undoubtedly putting on
+“ombongpoing”; he would have to take up golf. He was wearing a
+little American flag dangling from his watch chain, and she wondered
+if that wasn’t a trifle crude. Gladys herself now wore a real
+diamond ring, and had learned to say “vahse” and “baahth.” She
+yawned prettily as she took off her lovely brown “tailor-made,” and
+reflected that such things come with ease and security.
+
+Both she and Peter now had these in full measure. They had lost all
+fear of ever finding themselves out of a job. They had come to
+understand that the Red menace is not to be so easily exterminated;
+it is a distemper that lurks in the blood of society, and breaks out
+every now and then in a new rash. Gladys had come to agree with the
+Reds to this extent, that so long as there is a class of the rich
+and prosperous, so long will there be social discontent, so long
+will there be some that make their living by agitating, denouncing
+and crying out for change. Society is like a garden; each year when
+you plant your vegetables there springs up also a crop of weeds, and
+you have to go down the rows and chop off the heads of these weeds.
+Gladys’ husband is an expert gardener, he knows how to chop weeds,
+and he knows that society will never be able to dispense with his
+services. So long as gardening continues, Peter will be a head
+weedchopper, and a teacher of classes of young weedchoppers.
+
+Ah, it was fine to have married such a man! It was the reward a good
+woman received for helping her husband, making him into a good
+citizen, a patriot and an upholder of law and order: For always, of
+course, those who own the garden would see that their head
+weedchopper was taken care of, and had his share of the best that
+the garden produced. Gladys stood before her looking-glass, braiding
+her hair for the night, and thinking of the things she would ask
+from this garden. She and Peter had earned, and they would demand,
+the sweetest flowers, the most luscious fruits. Suddenly Gladys
+stretched wide her arms in an ecstasy of realization. “We’re a
+Success, Peter! We’re a Success! We’ll have money and all the lovely
+things it will buy! Do you realize, Peter, what a hit you’ve made?”
+
+Peter saw her face of joy, but he was a tiny bit frightened and
+uncertain, because of this unusual sharing of the honors. So Gladys
+was impelled to affection, mingled with pity. She held out her arms
+to him. “Poor, dear Peter! He’s had such a hard life! It was cruel
+he didn’t have me sooner to help him!”
+
+And then Gladys reflected for a moment, and was moved to another
+outburst. “Just think, Peter, how wonderful it is to be an American!
+In America you can always rise if you do your duty! America is the
+land of the free! Your example of a poor boy’s success ought to
+convince even the fool Reds that they’re wrong--that any boy can
+rise if he works hard! Why, I’ve heard it said that in America the
+poorest boy can rise to be President! How would you like to be
+President, Peter?”
+
+Peter hesitated. He doubted if he was equal to that big a job, but
+he knew that it would not please Gladys for him to say so. He
+murmured, “Perhaps--some day--”
+
+“Anyhow, Peter,” his wife continued, “I’m for this country! I’m an
+American!”
+
+And this time Peter didn’t have to hesitate. “You bet!” he said, and
+added his favorite formula--“100%!”
+
+
+
+
+APPENDIX
+
+
+A little experimenting with the manuscript of “100%” has revealed to
+the writer that everybody has a series of questions they wish
+immediately to ask: How much of it is true? To what extent have the
+business men of America been compelled to take over the detection
+and prevention of radicalism? Have they, in putting down the Reds,
+been driven to such extreme measures as you have here shown?
+
+A few of the incidents in “100%” are fictional, for example the
+story of Nell Doolin and Nelse Ackerman; but everything that has
+social significance is truth, and has been made to conform to facts
+personally known to the writer or to his friends. Practically all
+the characters in “100%” are real persons. Peter Gudge is a real
+person, and has several times been to call upon the writer in the
+course of his professional activities; Guffey and McGivney are real
+persons, and so is Billy Nash, and so is Gladys Frisbie.
+
+To begin at the beginning: the “Goober case” parallels in its main
+outlines the case of Tom Mooney. If you wish to know about this
+case, send fifteen cents to the Mooney Defense Committee, Post
+Office Box 894, San Francisco, for the pamphlet, “Shall Mooney
+Hang,” by Robert Minor. The business men of San Francisco raised a
+million dollars to save the city from union labor, and the Mooney
+case was the way they did it. It happened, however, that the judge
+before whom Mooney was convicted weakened, and wrote to the
+Attorney-General of the State to the effect that he had become
+convinced that Mooney was convicted by perjured testimony. But
+meantime Mooney was in jail, and is there still. Fremont Older,
+editor of the San Francisco “Call,” who has been conducting an
+investigation into this case, has recently written to the author:
+“Altogether, it is the most amazing story I have ever had anything
+to do with. When all is known that I think can be known, it will be
+shown clearly that the State before an open-eyed community was able
+to murder a man with the instruments that the people have provided
+for bringing about justice. There isn’t a scrap of testimony in
+either of the Mooney or Billings cases that wasn’t perjured, except
+that of the man who drew the blue prints of Market Street.”
+
+To what extent has the detection and punishment of radicalism in
+America passed out of the hands of public authorities and into the
+hands of “Big Business?” Any business man will of course agree that
+when “Big Business” has interests to protect, it must and will
+protect them. So far as possible it will make use of the public
+authorities; but when thru corruption or fear of politics these
+fail, “Big Business” has to act for itself. In the Colorado coal
+strike the coal companies raised the money to pay the state militia,
+and recruited new companies of militia from their private
+detectives. The Reds called this “Government by Gunmen,” and the
+writer in his muckraking days wrote a novel about it, “King Coal.”
+ The man who directed the militia during this coal strike was A. C.
+Felts of the Baldwin-Felts Detective Agency, who was killed just the
+other day while governing several coal counties in West Virginia.
+
+You will find this condition in the lumber country of Washington and
+Oregon, in the oil country of Oklahoma and Kansas, in the copper
+country of Michigan, Montana and Arizona, and in all the big coal
+districts. In the steel country of Western Pennsylvania you will
+find that all the local authorities are officials of the steel
+companies. If you go to Bristol, R. I., you will find that the
+National India Rubber Company has agreed to pay the salaries of
+two-thirds of the town’s police force.
+
+In every large city in America the employers’ associations have
+raised funds to hold down the unions and smash the Reds, and these
+funds are being expended in the way portrayed in “100%.” In Los
+Angeles the employers’ association raised a million dollars, and the
+result was the case of Sydney R. Flowers, briefly sketched in this
+story under the name of “Sydney.” The reader who wishes the details
+of this case is referred to Chapter LXVI of “The Brass Cheek.”
+ Flowers has been twice tried, and is about to be tried a third time,
+and our District-Attorney is quoted as saying that he will be tried
+half a dozen times if necessary. At the last trial there were
+produced a total of twenty-five witnesses against Flowers, and out
+of these nineteen were either Peter Gudges and McGivneys, or else
+police detectives, or else employees of the local political machine.
+A deputy United States attorney, talking to me about the case, told
+me that he had refused to prosecute it because he realized that the
+“Paul letter,” upon which the arrest had been based, was a frame-up,
+and that he was quite sure he knew who had written it. He also told
+me that there had been formed in Los Angeles a secret committee of
+fifty of the most active rich men of the town; that he could not
+find out what they were doing, but they came to his offices and
+demanded the secret records of the government; and that when he
+refused to prosecute Flowers they had influence enough to have the
+governor of California telegraph to Washington in protest.
+Questioned on the witness stand, I repeated these statements, and
+the deputy United States attorney was called to the stand and
+attributed them to my “literary imagination.”
+
+In the old Russian and Austrian empires the technique of trapping
+agitators was well developed, and the use of spies and “under cover”
+ men for the purpose of luring the Reds into crime was completely
+worked out. We have no English equivalent for the phrase “agent
+provocateur,” but in the last four years we have put thousands of
+them at work in America. In the case against Flowers three witnesses
+were produced who had been active among the I. W. Ws., trying to
+incite crime, and were being paid to give testimony for the state.
+One of these men admitted that he had himself burned some forty
+barns, and was now receiving three hundred dollars a month and
+expenses. At the trial of William Bross Lloyd in Chicago, charged
+with membership in the Communist party, a similar witness was
+produced. Santeri Nourteva, of, the Soviet Bureau in New York, has
+charged that Louis C. Fraina, editor of the “Revolutionary Age,” was
+a government agent, and Fraina wrote into the platform of the
+Communist party the planks which were used in prosecuting and
+deporting its members. On December 27, 1919, the chief of the Bureau
+of Investigation of the Department of Justice in Washington sent to
+the head of his local bureau in Boston a telegram containing the
+following sentences: “You should arrange with your under cover
+informants to have meetings of the Communist Party and Communist
+Labor Party held on the night set. I have been informed by some of
+the bureau officers that such arrangements will be made.” So much
+evidence of the activity of the provocateur was produced before
+Federal Judge G. W. Anderson that he declared as follows: “What does
+appear beyond reasonable dispute is that the Government owns and
+operates some part of the Communist Party.”
+
+It appears that Judge Anderson does not share the high opinion of
+the “under cover” operative set forth by the writer of “100%.” Says
+Judge Anderson: “I cannot adopt the contention that Government spies
+are any more trustworthy, or less disposed to make trouble in order
+to profit therefrom, than are spies in private industry. Except in
+time of war, when a Nathan Hale may be a spy, spies are always
+necessarily drawn from the unwholesome and untrustworthy classes. A
+right-minded man refuses such a job. The evil wrought by the spy
+system in industry has, for decades, been incalculable. Until it is
+eliminated, decent human relations cannot exist between employers
+and employees, or even among employees. It destroys trust and
+confidence; it kills human kindliness; it propagates hate.”
+
+To what extent have the governmental authorities of America been
+forced to deny to the Reds the civil rights guaranteed to good
+Americans by the laws and the constitution? The reader who is
+curious on this point may send the sum of twenty-five cents to the
+American Civil Liberties Union, 138 West 13th Street, New York, for
+the pamphlet entitled, “Report upon the Illegal Practices of the
+United States Department of Justice,” signed by twelve eminent
+lawyers in the country, including a dean of the Harvard Law school,
+and a United States attorney who resigned because of his
+old-fashioned ideas of law. This pamphlet contains sixty-seven
+pages, with numerous exhibits and photographs. The practices set
+forth are listed under six heads: Cruel and unusual punishments;
+arrests without warrant; unreasonable searches and seizures;
+provocative agents; compelling persons to be witnesses against
+themselves; propaganda by the Department of Justice. The reader may
+also ask for the pamphlet entitled “Memorandum Regarding the
+Persecution of the Radical Labor Movement in the United States;”
+ also for the pamphlet entitled “War Time Prosecution and Mob
+Violence,” dated March, 1919, giving a list of cases which occupies
+forty pages of closely printed type. Also he might read “The Case of
+the Rand School,” published by the Rand School of Social Science, 7
+East Fifteenth Street, New York, and the pamphlets published by the
+National Office of the Socialist Party, 220 South Ashland Blvd.,
+Chicago, dealing with the prosecutions of that organization.
+
+To what extent has it been necessary to torture the Reds in prison
+in America? Those who are interested are advised to write to Harry
+Weinberger, 32 Union Square, New York, for the pamphlet entitled
+“Twenty Years Prison,” dealing with the case of Mollie Steimer, and
+three others who were sentenced for distributing a leaflet
+protesting against the war on Russia; also to the American Civil
+Liberties Union for the pamphlet entitled “Political Prisoners in
+Federal Military Prisons,” also the pamphlet, “Uncle Sam: Jailer,”
+ by Winthrop D. Lane, reprinted from the “Survey;” also the pamphlet
+entitled “The Soviet of Deer Island, Boston Harbor,” published by
+the Boston Branch of the American Civil Liberties Union; also for
+the publications of the American Industrial Company, and the
+American Freedom Foundation, 166 West Washington St., Chicago.
+
+There may be some reader with a sense of humor who asks about the
+brother of a United States senator being arrested for reading a
+paragraph from the Declaration of Independence. This gentleman was
+the brother of United States Senator France of Maryland, and
+curiously enough, the arrest took place in the city of Philadelphia,
+where the Declaration of Independence was adopted. There may be some
+reader who is curious about a clergyman being indicted and arrested
+in Winnipeg for having quoted the prophet Isaiah. The paragraph from
+the indictment in question reads as follows: “That J. S. Woodsworth,
+on or about the month of June, in the year of our Lord one thousand
+nine hundred and nineteen, at the City of Winnipeg, in the Province
+of Manitoba, unlawfully and seditiously published seditious libels
+in the words and figures following: `Woe unto them that decree
+unrighteous decrees, and that write grievousness which they have
+prescribed; to turn aside the needy from judgment, and to take away
+their right from the poor of my people that widows may be their prey
+and that they may rob the fatherless. . . . And they shall build
+houses and inhabit them, and they shall plant vineyards and eat the
+fruit of them. They shall not build and another inhabit, they shall
+not plant and another eat; for as the days of a tree are the days of
+my people, and mine elect shall long enjoy the work of their hands.’”
+
+There has been reference in this book to the Centralia case. No one
+can consider that he understands the technique of holding down the
+Reds until he has studied this case, and therefore every friend of
+“Big Business” should send fifty cents, either to the I. W. W.
+Headquarters, 1001 West Madison Street, Chicago, or to the
+“Liberator,” New York, or to the “Appeal to Reason,” Girard, Kansas,
+for the booklet, “The Centralia Conspiracy,” by Ralph Chaplin, who
+attended the Centralia trial, and has collected all the details and
+presents them with photographs and documents. Many other stories
+about the I. W. W. have been told in the course of “100%.” The
+reader will wish to know, are these men really so dangerous, and
+have the business men of America been driven to treat them as here
+described. The reader may again address the I. W. W. National
+Headquarters for a four-page leaflet with the quaint title, “With
+Drops of Blood the History of the Industrial Workers of the World
+has Been Written.” Despite the fact that it is a bare record of
+cases, there are many men serving long terms in prison in the United
+States for the offense of having in their possession a copy of this
+leaflet, “With Drops of Blood.” But the readers of this book, being
+all of them 100% Americans engaged in learning the technique of
+smashing the Reds, will, I feel sure, not be interfered with by the
+business men. Also I trust that the business men will not object to
+my reprinting a few paragraphs from the leaflet, in order to make
+the public realize how dangerously these Reds can write. I will, of
+course, not follow their incendiary example and spatter my page with
+big drops of imitation blood. I quote:
+
+“We charge that I. W. W. members have been murdered, and mention
+here a few of those who have lost their lives:
+
+“Joseph Michalish was shot to death by a mob of so-called citizens.
+Michael Hoey was beaten to death in San Diego. Samuel Chinn was so
+brutally beaten in the county jail at Spokane, Washington, that he
+died from the injuries. Joseph Hillstrom was judicially murdered
+within the walls of the penitentiary at Salt Lake City, Utah. Anna
+Lopeza, a textile worker, was shot and killed, and two other Fellow
+Workers were murdered during the strike at Lawrence, Massachusetts.
+Frank Little, a cripple, was lynched by hirelings of the Copper
+Trust at Butte, Montana. John Looney, A. Robinowitz, Hugo Gerlot,
+Gustav Johnson, Felix Baron, and others were killed by a mob of
+Lumber Trust gunmen on the Steamer Verona at the dock at Everett,
+Washington. J. A. Kelly was arrested and re-arrested at Seattle,
+Washington; finally died from the effects of the frightful treatment
+he received. Four members of the I. W. W. were killed at Grabow,
+Louisiana, where thirty were shot and seriously wounded. Two members
+were dragged to death behind an automobile at Ketchikan, Alaska.
+
+“These are but a few of the many who have given up their lives on
+the altar of Greed, sacrificed in the ages-long struggle for
+Industrial Freedom.
+
+“We charge that many thousands of members of this organization have
+been imprisoned, on most occasions arrested without warrant and held
+without charge. To verify this statement it is but necessary that
+you read the report of the Commission on Industrial Relations
+wherein is given testimony of those who know of conditions at
+Lawrence, Massachusetts, where nearly 900 men and women were thrown
+into prison during the Textile Workers’ Strike at that place. This
+same report recites the fact that during the Silk Workers’ Strike at
+Paterson, New Jersey, nearly 1,900 men and women were cast into jail
+without charge or reason. Throughout the northwest these kinds of
+outrages have been continually perpetrated against members of the I.
+W. W. County jails and city prisons in nearly every state in the
+Union have held or are holding members of this organization.
+
+“We charge that members of the I. W. W. have been tarred and
+feathered. Frank H. Meyers was tarred and feathered by a gang of
+prominent citizens at North Yakima, Washington. D. S. Dietz was
+tarred and feathered by a mob led by representatives of the Lumber
+Trust at Sedro, Wooley, Washington. John L. Metzen, attorney for the
+Industrial Workers of the World, was tarred and feathered and
+severely beaten by a mob of citizens of Staunton, Illinois. At
+Tulsa, Oklahoma, a mob of bankers and other business men gathered up
+seventeen members of the I. W. W., loaded them in automobiles,
+carried them out of town to a patch of woods, and there tarred and
+feathered and beat them with rope.
+
+“We charge that members of the Industrial Workers of the World have
+been deported, and cite the cases of Bisbee, Arizona, where 1,164
+miners, many of them members of the I. W. W., and their friends,
+were dragged out of their homes, loaded upon box cars, and sent out
+of the camp. They were confined for months at Columbus, New Mexico.
+Many cases are now pending against the copper companies and business
+men of Bisbee. A large number of members were deported from Jerome,
+Arizona. Seven members of the I. W. W. were deported from Florence,
+Oregon, and were lost for days in the woods, Tom Lassiter, a
+crippled news vender, was taken out in the middle of the night and
+badly beaten by a mob for selling the Liberator and other radical
+papers.
+
+“We charge that members of the I. W. W. have been cruelly and
+inhumanly beaten. Hundreds of members can show scars upon their
+lacerated bodies that were inflicted upon them when they were
+compelled to run the gauntlet. Joe Marko and many others were
+treated in this fashion at San Diego, California. James Rowan was
+nearly beaten to death at Everett, Washington. At Lawrence,
+Massachusetts, the thugs of the Textile Trust beat men and women who
+had been forced to go on strike to get a little more of the good
+things of life. The shock and cruel whipping which they gave one
+little Italian woman caused her to give premature birth to a child.
+At Red Lodge, Montana, a member’s home was invaded and he was hung
+by the neck before his screaming wife and children. At Franklin, New
+Jersey, August 29, 1917, John Avila, an I. W. W., was taken in broad
+daylight by the chief of police and an auto-load of business men to
+a woods near the town and there hung to a tree. He was cut down
+before death ensued, and badly beaten. It was five hours before
+Avila regained consciousness, after which the town ‘judge’ sentenced
+him to three months at hard labor.
+
+“We charge that members of the I. W. W. have been starved. This
+statement can be verified by the conditions existing in most any
+county jail where members of the I. W. W. are confined. A very
+recent instance is at Topeka, Kansas, where members were compelled
+to go on a hunger strike as a means of securing food for themselves
+that would sustain life. Members have been forced to resort to the
+hunger strike as a means of getting better food in many places. You
+are requested to read the story written by Winthrop D. Lane, which
+appears in the Sept. 6, 1919, number of `The Survey.’ This story is
+a graphic description of the county jails in Kansas.
+
+“We charge that I. W. W. members have been denied the right of
+citizenship, and in each instance the judge frankly told the
+applicants that they were refused on account of membership in the
+Industrial Workers of the World, accompanying this with abusive
+remarks; members were denied their citizenship papers by judge
+Hanford at Seattle, Washington, and judge Paul O’Boyle at Scranton,
+Pennsylvania.
+
+“We charge that members of the I. W. W. have been denied the
+privilege of defense. This being an organization of working men who
+had little or no funds of their own, it was necessary to appeal to
+the membership and the working class generally for funds to provide
+a proper defense. The postal authorities, acting under orders from
+the Postmaster-General at Washington, D. C., have deliberately
+prevented the transportation of our appeals, our subscription lists,
+our newspapers. These have been piled up in the postoffices and we
+have never received a return of the stamps affixed for mailing.
+
+“We charge that the members of the I. W. W. have been held in
+exorbitant bail. As an instance there is the case of Pietro Pierre
+held in the county jail at Topeka, Kansas. His bond was fixed at
+$5,000, and when the amount was tendered it was immediately raised
+to $10,000. This is only one of the many instances that could be
+recorded.
+
+“We charge that members of the I. W. W. have been compelled to
+submit to involuntary servitude. This does not refer to members
+confined in the penitentiaries, but would recall the reader’s
+attention to an I. W. W. member under arrest in Birmingham, Alabama,
+taken from the prison and placed on exhibition at a fair given in
+that city where admission of twenty-five cents was charged to see
+the I. W. W.”
+
+Finally, for the benefit of the reader who asks how it happens that
+such incidents are not more generally known to the public, I will
+reprint the following, from pages 382-383 of “The Brass Check,”
+ dealing with the “New York Times,” and its treatment of the writer’s
+novel, “Jimmie Higgins”:
+
+“In the last chapters of this story an American soldier is
+represented as being tortured in an American military prison. Says
+the `Times’:
+
+“`Mr. Sinclair should produce the evidence upon which he bases his
+astounding accusations, if he has any. If he has simply written on
+hearsay evidence, or, worse still, let himself be guided by his
+craving to be sensational, he has laid himself open not only to
+censure but to punishment.’
+
+“In reply to this, I send to the `Times’ a perfectly respectful
+letter, citing scores of cases, and telling the `Times’ where
+hundreds of other cases may be found. The `Times’ returns this
+letter without comment. A couple of months pass, and as a result of
+the ceaseless agitation of the radicals, there is a congressional
+investigation, and evidence of atrocious cruelties is forced into
+the newspapers. The `Times’ publishes an editorial entitled, `Prison
+Camp Cruelties,’ the first sentence of which reads: `The fact that
+American soldiers confined in prison-camps have been treated with
+extreme brutality may now be regarded as established.’ So again I
+write a polite letter to the `Times,’ pointing out that I think they
+owe me an apology. And how does the `Times’ treat that? It alters my
+letter without my permission. It cuts out my request for an apology,
+and also my quotation of its own words calling for my punishment!
+The `Times,’ caught in a hole, refuses to let me remind its readers
+that it wanted me `punished’ for telling the truth! `All the News
+that’s Fit to Print!’”
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+End of Project Gutenberg’s 100%: The Story of a Patriot, by Upton Sinclair
+
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+.toc2      { margin-left: 20%;}
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+div.middle { margin-left: 20%; margin-right: 20%; text-align: justify; }
+.figleft   {float: left; margin-left: 0%; margin-right: 1%;}
+.figright  {float: right; margin-right: 0%; margin-left: 1%;}
+.pagenum   {display:inline; font-size: 70%; font-style:normal;
+margin: 0; padding: 0; position: absolute; right: 1%;
+text-align: right;}
+pre        { font-style: italic; font-size: 90%; margin-left: 10%;}
+
+</style>
+</head>
+<body>
+
+
+<pre>
+
+Project Gutenberg's 100%: The Story of a Patriot, by Upton Sinclair
+
+This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with
+almost no restrictions whatsoever.  You may copy it, give it away or
+re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included
+with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org
+
+
+Title: 100%: The Story of a Patriot
+
+Author: Upton Sinclair
+
+
+Release Date: May, 2004 [EBook #5776]
+This file was first posted on September 1, 2002
+Last Updated: October 13, 2016
+
+Language: English
+
+Character set encoding: UTF-8
+
+*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 100%: THE STORY OF A PATRIOT ***
+
+
+
+
+Text file produced by Charles Aldarondo
+
+HTML file produced by David Widger
+
+
+
+</pre>
+
+<div style="height: 8em;">
+<br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br />
+</div>
+<h1>
+100%: THE STORY OF A PATRIOT
+</h1>
+<h2>
+By Upton Sinclair
+</h2>
+<h4>
+Published By The Author <br /> <br /> Pasadena, California <br /> <br /> 1920
+</h4>
+<p>
+<b>TO MY WIFE</b>
+</p>
+<p>
+Who is the creator of the most charming character in this story, &ldquo;Mrs.
+Godd,&rdquo; and who positively refuses to permit the book to go to press until
+it has been explained that the character is a Grecian Godd and not a
+Hebrew Godd, so that no one may accuse the creator of sacrilege.
+</p>
+<p>
+<br /><br />
+</p>
+<hr />
+<p>
+<br /><br />
+</p>
+<p>
+<b>CONTENTS</b>
+</p>
+<p class="toc">
+<a href="#link2H_4_0001"> Section 1 </a>
+</p>
+<p class="toc">
+<a href="#link2H_4_0002"> Section 2 </a>
+</p>
+<p class="toc">
+<a href="#link2H_4_0003"> Section 3 </a>
+</p>
+<p class="toc">
+<a href="#link2H_4_0004"> Section 4 </a>
+</p>
+<p class="toc">
+<a href="#link2H_4_0005"> Section 5 </a>
+</p>
+<p class="toc">
+<a href="#link2H_4_0006"> Section 6 </a>
+</p>
+<p class="toc">
+<a href="#link2H_4_0007"> Section 7 </a>
+</p>
+<p class="toc">
+<a href="#link2H_4_0008"> Section 8 </a>
+</p>
+<p class="toc">
+<a href="#link2H_4_0009"> Section 9 </a>
+</p>
+<p class="toc">
+<a href="#link2H_4_0010"> Section 10 </a>
+</p>
+<p class="toc">
+<a href="#link2H_4_0011"> Section 11 </a>
+</p>
+<p class="toc">
+<a href="#link2H_4_0012"> Section 12 </a>
+</p>
+<p class="toc">
+<a href="#link2H_4_0013"> Section 13 </a>
+</p>
+<p class="toc">
+<a href="#link2H_4_0014"> Section 14 </a>
+</p>
+<p class="toc">
+<a href="#link2H_4_0015"> Section 15 </a>
+</p>
+<p class="toc">
+<a href="#link2H_4_0016"> Section 16 </a>
+</p>
+<p class="toc">
+<a href="#link2H_4_0017"> Section 17 </a>
+</p>
+<p class="toc">
+<a href="#link2H_4_0018"> Section 18 </a>
+</p>
+<p class="toc">
+<a href="#link2H_4_0019"> Section 19 </a>
+</p>
+<p class="toc">
+<a href="#link2H_4_0020"> Section 20 </a>
+</p>
+<p class="toc">
+<a href="#link2H_4_0021"> Section 21 </a>
+</p>
+<p class="toc">
+<a href="#link2H_4_0022"> Section 22 </a>
+</p>
+<p class="toc">
+<a href="#link2H_4_0023"> Section 23 </a>
+</p>
+<p class="toc">
+<a href="#link2H_4_0024"> Section 24 </a>
+</p>
+<p class="toc">
+<a href="#link2H_4_0025"> Section 25 </a>
+</p>
+<p class="toc">
+<a href="#link2H_4_0026"> Section 26 </a>
+</p>
+<p class="toc">
+<a href="#link2H_4_0027"> Section 27 </a>
+</p>
+<p class="toc">
+<a href="#link2H_4_0028"> Section 28 </a>
+</p>
+<p class="toc">
+<a href="#link2H_4_0029"> Section 29 </a>
+</p>
+<p class="toc">
+<a href="#link2H_4_0030"> Section 30 </a>
+</p>
+<p class="toc">
+<a href="#link2H_4_0031"> Section 31 </a>
+</p>
+<p class="toc">
+<a href="#link2H_4_0032"> Section 32 </a>
+</p>
+<p class="toc">
+<a href="#link2H_4_0033"> Section 33 </a>
+</p>
+<p class="toc">
+<a href="#link2H_4_0034"> Section 34 </a>
+</p>
+<p class="toc">
+<a href="#link2H_4_0035"> Section 35 </a>
+</p>
+<p class="toc">
+<a href="#link2H_4_0036"> Section 36 </a>
+</p>
+<p class="toc">
+<a href="#link2H_4_0037"> Section 37 </a>
+</p>
+<p class="toc">
+<a href="#link2H_4_0038"> Section 38 </a>
+</p>
+<p class="toc">
+<a href="#link2H_4_0039"> Section 39 </a>
+</p>
+<p class="toc">
+<a href="#link2H_4_0040"> Section 40 </a>
+</p>
+<p class="toc">
+<a href="#link2H_4_0041"> Section 41 </a>
+</p>
+<p class="toc">
+<a href="#link2H_4_0042"> Section 42 </a>
+</p>
+<p class="toc">
+<a href="#link2H_4_0043"> Section 43 </a>
+</p>
+<p class="toc">
+<a href="#link2H_4_0044"> Section 44 </a>
+</p>
+<p class="toc">
+<a href="#link2H_4_0045"> Section 45 </a>
+</p>
+<p class="toc">
+<a href="#link2H_4_0046"> Section 46 </a>
+</p>
+<p class="toc">
+<a href="#link2H_4_0047"> Section 47 </a>
+</p>
+<p class="toc">
+<a href="#link2H_4_0048"> Section 48 </a>
+</p>
+<p class="toc">
+<a href="#link2H_4_0049"> Section 49 </a>
+</p>
+<p class="toc">
+<a href="#link2H_4_0050"> Section 50 </a>
+</p>
+<p class="toc">
+<a href="#link2H_4_0051"> Section 51 </a>
+</p>
+<p class="toc">
+<a href="#link2H_4_0052"> Section 52 </a>
+</p>
+<p class="toc">
+<a href="#link2H_4_0053"> Section 53 </a>
+</p>
+<p class="toc">
+<a href="#link2H_4_0054"> Section 54 </a>
+</p>
+<p class="toc">
+<a href="#link2H_4_0055"> Section 55 </a>
+</p>
+<p class="toc">
+<a href="#link2H_4_0056"> Section 56 </a>
+</p>
+<p class="toc">
+<a href="#link2H_4_0057"> Section 57 </a>
+</p>
+<p class="toc">
+<a href="#link2H_4_0058"> Section 58 </a>
+</p>
+<p class="toc">
+<a href="#link2H_4_0059"> Section 59 </a>
+</p>
+<p class="toc">
+<a href="#link2H_4_0060"> Section 60 </a>
+</p>
+<p class="toc">
+<a href="#link2H_4_0061"> Section 61 </a>
+</p>
+<p class="toc">
+<a href="#link2H_4_0062"> Section 62 </a>
+</p>
+<p class="toc">
+<a href="#link2H_4_0063"> Section 63 </a>
+</p>
+<p class="toc">
+<a href="#link2H_4_0064"> Section 64 </a>
+</p>
+<p class="toc">
+<a href="#link2H_4_0065"> Section 65 </a>
+</p>
+<p class="toc">
+<a href="#link2H_4_0066"> Section 66 </a>
+</p>
+<p class="toc">
+<a href="#link2H_4_0067"> Section 67 </a>
+</p>
+<p class="toc">
+<a href="#link2H_4_0068"> Section 68 </a>
+</p>
+<p class="toc">
+<a href="#link2H_4_0069"> Section 69 </a>
+</p>
+<p class="toc">
+<a href="#link2H_4_0070"> Section 70 </a>
+</p>
+<p class="toc">
+<a href="#link2H_4_0071"> Section 71 </a>
+</p>
+<p class="toc">
+<a href="#link2H_4_0072"> Section 72 </a>
+</p>
+<p class="toc">
+<a href="#link2H_4_0073"> Section 73 </a>
+</p>
+<p class="toc">
+<a href="#link2H_4_0074"> Section 74 </a>
+</p>
+<p class="toc">
+<a href="#link2H_4_0075"> Section 75 </a>
+</p>
+<p class="toc">
+<a href="#link2H_4_0076"> Section 76 </a>
+</p>
+<p class="toc">
+<a href="#link2H_4_0077"> Section 77 </a>
+</p>
+<p class="toc">
+<a href="#link2H_4_0078"> Section 78 </a>
+</p>
+<p class="toc">
+<a href="#link2H_4_0079"> Section 79 </a>
+</p>
+<p class="toc">
+<a href="#link2H_4_0080"> Section 80 </a>
+</p>
+<p class="toc">
+<a href="#link2H_4_0081"> Section 81 </a>
+</p>
+<p class="toc">
+<a href="#link2H_4_0082"> Section 82 </a>
+</p>
+<p class="toc">
+<a href="#link2H_4_0083"> Section 83 </a>
+</p>
+<p class="toc">
+<a href="#link2H_4_0084"> Section 84 </a>
+</p>
+<p class="toc">
+<a href="#link2H_4_0085"> Section 85 </a>
+</p>
+<p class="toc">
+<a href="#link2H_4_0086"> Section 86 </a>
+</p>
+<p class="toc">
+<a href="#link2H_APPE"> APPENDIX </a>
+</p>
+<p>
+<br /><br />
+</p>
+<hr />
+<p>
+<a name="link2H_4_0001" id="link2H_4_0001"> </a>
+</p>
+<div style="height: 4em;">
+<br /><br /><br /><br />
+</div>
+<h2>
+Section 1
+</h2>
+<p>
+Now and then it occurs to one to reflect upon what slender threads of
+accident depend the most important circumstances of his life; to look back
+and shudder, realizing how close to the edge of nothingness his being has
+come. A young man is walking down the street, quite casually, with an
+empty mind and no set purpose; he comes to a crossing, and for no reason
+that he could tell he takes the right hand turn instead of the left; and
+so it happens that he encounters a blue-eyed girl, who sets his heart to
+beating. He meets the girl, marries her&mdash;and she became your mother.
+But now, suppose the young man had taken the left hand turn instead of the
+right, and had never met the blue-eyed girl; where would you be now, and
+what would have become of those qualities of mind which you consider of
+importance to the world, and those grave affairs of business to which your
+time is devoted?
+</p>
+<p>
+Something like that it was which befell Peter Gudge; just such an
+accident, changing the whole current of his life, and making the series of
+events with which this story deals. Peter was walking down the street one
+afternoon, when a woman approached and held out to him a printed leaflet.
+&ldquo;Read this, please,&rdquo; she said.
+</p>
+<p>
+And Peter, who was hungry, and at odds with the world, answered gruffly:
+&ldquo;I got no money.&rdquo; He thought it was an advertising dodger, and he said: &ldquo;I
+can&rsquo;t buy nothin&rsquo;.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;It isn&rsquo;t anything for sale,&rdquo; answered the woman. &ldquo;It&rsquo;s a message.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Religion?&rdquo; said Peter. &ldquo;I just got kicked out of a church.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;No, not a church,&rdquo; said the woman. &ldquo;It&rsquo;s something different; put it in
+your pocket.&rdquo; She was an elderly woman with gray hair, and she followed
+along, smiling pleasantly at this frail, poor-looking stranger, but
+nagging at him. &ldquo;Read it some time when you&rsquo;ve nothing else to do.&rdquo; And so
+Peter, just to get rid of her, took the leaflet and thrust it into his
+pocket, and went on, and in a minute or two had forgotten all about it.
+</p>
+<p>
+Peter was thinking&mdash;or rather Peter&rsquo;s stomach was thinking for him;
+for when you have had nothing to eat all day, and nothing on the day
+before but a cup of coffee and one sandwich, your thought-centers are
+transferred from the top to the middle of you. Peter was thinking that
+this was a hell of a life. Who could have foreseen that just because he
+had stolen one miserable fried doughnut, he would lose his easy job and
+his chance of rising in the world? Peter&rsquo;s whole being was concentrated on
+the effort to rise in the world; to get success, which means money, which
+means ease and pleasure&mdash;the magic names which lure all human
+creatures.
+</p>
+<p>
+But who could have foreseen that Mrs. Smithers would have kept count of
+those fried doughnuts every time anybody passed thru her pantry? And it
+was only that one ridiculous circumstance which had brought Peter to his
+present misery. But for that he might have had his lunch of bread and
+dried herring and weak tea in the home of the shoe-maker&rsquo;s wife, and might
+have still been busy with his job of stirring up dissension in the First
+Apostolic Church, otherwise known as the Holy Rollers, and of getting the
+Rev. Gamaliel Lunk turned out, and Shoemaker Smithers established at the
+job of pastor, with Peter Gudge as his right hand man.
+</p>
+<p>
+Always it had been like that, thru Peter&rsquo;s twenty years of life. Time
+after time he would get his feeble clutch fixed upon the ladder of
+prosperity, and then something would happen&mdash;some wretched thing like
+the stealing of a fried doughnut&mdash;to pry him loose and tumble him
+down again into the pit of misery.
+</p>
+<p>
+So Peter walked along, with his belt drawn tight, and his restless blue
+eyes wandering here and there, looking for a place to get a meal. There
+were jobs to be had, but they were hard jobs, and Peter wanted an easy
+one. There are people in this world who live by their muscles, and others
+who live by their wits; Peter belonged to the latter class; and had missed
+many a meal rather than descend in the social scale.
+</p>
+<p>
+Peter looked into the faces of everyone he passed, searching for a
+possible opening. Some returned his glance, but never for more than a
+second, for they saw an insignificant looking man, undersized,
+undernourished, and with one shoulder higher than the other, a weak chin
+and mouth, crooked teeth, and a brown moustache too feeble to hold itself
+up at the corners. Peters&rsquo; straw hat had many straws missing, his
+second-hand brown suit was become third-hand, and his shoes were turning
+over at the sides. In a city where everybody was &ldquo;hustling,&rdquo; everybody, as
+they phrased it, &ldquo;on the make,&rdquo; why should anyone take a second glance at
+Peter Gudge? Why should anyone care about the restless soul hidden inside
+him, or dream that Peter was, in his own obscure way, a sort of genius? No
+one did care; no one did dream.
+</p>
+<p>
+It was about two o&rsquo;clock of an afternoon in July, and the sun beat down
+upon the streets of American City. There were crowds upon the streets, and
+Peter noticed that everywhere were flags and bunting. Once or twice he
+heard the strains of distant music, and wondered what was &ldquo;up.&rdquo; Peter had
+not been reading the newspapers; all his attention had been taken up by
+the quarrels of the Smithers faction and the Lunk faction in the First
+Apostolic Church, otherwise known as the Holy Rollers, and great events
+that had been happening in the world outside were of no concern to him.
+Peter knew vaguely that on the other side of the world half a dozen mighty
+nations were locked together in a grip of death; the whole earth was
+shaken with their struggles, and Peter had felt a bit of the trembling now
+and then. But Peter did not know that his own country had anything to do
+with this European quarrel, and did not know that certain great interests
+thruout the country had set themselves to rouse the public to action.
+</p>
+<p>
+This movement had reached American City, and the streets had broken out in
+a blaze of patriotic display. In all the windows of the stores there were
+signs: &ldquo;Wake up, America!&rdquo; Across the broad Main Street there were
+banners: &ldquo;America Prepare!&rdquo; Down in the square at one end of the street a
+small army was gathering&mdash;old veterans of the Civil War, and
+middle-aged veterans of the Spanish War, and regiments of the state
+militia, and brigades of marines and sailors from the ships in the harbor,
+and members of fraternal lodges with their Lord High Chief Grand Marshals
+on horseback with gold sashes and waving white plumes, and all the
+notables of the city in carriages, and a score of bands to stir their feet
+and ten thousand flags waving above their heads. &ldquo;Wake up America!&rdquo; And
+here was Peter Gudge, with an empty stomach, coming suddenly upon the
+swarming crowds in Main Street, and having no remotest idea what it was
+all about.
+</p>
+<p>
+A crowd suggested one thing to Peter. For seven years of his young life he
+had been assistant to Pericles Priam, and had traveled over America
+selling Priam&rsquo;s Peerless Pain Paralyzer; they had ridden in an automobile,
+and wherever there was a fair or a convention or an excursion or a picnic,
+they were on hand, and Pericles Priam would stop at a place where the
+crowds were thickest, and ring a dinner bell, and deliver his
+super-eloquent message to humanity&mdash;the elixir of life revealed,
+suffering banished from the earth, and all inconveniences of this mortal
+state brought to an end for one dollar per bottle of fifteen per cent
+opium. It had been Peter&rsquo;s job to handle the bottles and take in the coin;
+and so now, when he saw the crowd, he looked about him eagerly. Perhaps
+there might be here some vender of corn-plasters or ink-stain removers, or
+some three card monte man to whom Peter could attach himself for the price
+of a sandwich.
+</p>
+<p>
+Peter wormed his way thru the crowd for two or three blocks, but saw
+nothing more promising than venders of American flags on little sticks,
+and of patriotic buttons with &ldquo;Wake up America!&rdquo; But then, on the other
+side of the street at one of the crossings Peter saw a man standing on a
+truck making a speech, and he dug his way thru the crowd, elbowing,
+sliding this way and that, begging everybody&rsquo;s pardon&mdash;until at last
+he was out of the crowd, and standing in the open way which had been
+cleared for the procession, a seemingly endless road lined with solid
+walls of human beings, with blue-uniformed policemen holding them back.
+Peter started to run across&mdash;and at that same instant came the end of
+the world.
+</p>
+<p>
+<br /><br />
+</p>
+<hr />
+<p>
+<a name="link2H_4_0002" id="link2H_4_0002"> </a>
+</p>
+<div style="height: 4em;">
+<br /><br /><br /><br />
+</div>
+<h2>
+Section 2
+</h2>
+<p>
+One who seeks to tell about events in words comes occasionally upon a
+fundamental difficulty. An event of colossal and overwhelming significance
+may happen all at once, but the words which describe it have to come one
+by one in a long chain. The event may reveal itself without a moment&rsquo;s
+warning; but if one is to give a sense of it in words, one must prepare
+for it, build up to it, awaken anticipation, establish a climax. If the
+description of this event which fate sprung upon Peter Gudge as he was
+crossing the street were limited to the one word &ldquo;BANG&rdquo; in letters a
+couple of inches high across the page, the impression would hardly be
+adequate.
+</p>
+<p>
+The end of the world, it seemed to Peter, when he was able to collect
+enough of his terrified wits to think about it. But at first there was no
+thinking; there was only sensation&mdash;a terrific roar, as if the whole
+universe had suddenly turned to sound; a blinding white glare, as of all
+the lightnings of the heavens; a blow that picked him up as if he had been
+a piece of thistledown, and flung him across the street and against the
+side of a building. Peter fell upon the sidewalk in a heap, deafened,
+blinded, stunned; and there he lay&mdash;he had no idea how long-until
+gradually his senses began to return to him, and from the confusion
+certain factors began to stand out: a faint gray smoke that seemed to lie
+upon the ground, a bitter odor that stung the nostrils and tongue, and
+screams of people, moaning and sobbing and general uproar. Something lay
+across Peter&rsquo;s chest, and he felt that he was suffocating, and struggled
+convulsively to push it away; the hands with which he pushed felt
+something hot and wet and slimy, and the horrified Peter realized that it
+was half the body of a mangled human being.
+</p>
+<p>
+Yes, it was the end of the world. Only a couple of days previously Peter
+Gudge had been a devout member of the First Apostolic Church, otherwise
+known as the Holy Rollers, and had listened at prayer-meetings to
+soul-shaking imaginings out of the Book of Revelations. So Peter knew that
+this was it; and having many sins upon his conscience, and being in no way
+eager to confront his God, he looked out over the bodies of the dead and
+the writhing wounded, and saw a row of boxes standing against the
+building, having been placed there by people who wished to see over the
+heads of the crowd. Peter started to crawl, and found that he was able to
+do so, and wormed his way behind one of these packing-boxes, and got
+inside and lay hidden from his God.
+</p>
+<p>
+There was blood on him, and he did not know whether it was his own or
+other peoples&rsquo;. He was trembling with fright, his crooked teeth were
+hammering together like those of an angry woodchuck. But the effects of
+the shock continued to pass away, and his wits to come back to him, and at
+last Peter realized that he never had taken seriously the ideas of the
+First Apostolic Church of American City. He listened to the moans of the
+wounded, and to the shouts and uproar of the crowd, and began seriously
+figuring out what could have happened. There had once been an earthquake
+in American City; could this be another one? Or had a volcano opened up in
+the midst of Main Street? Or could it have been a gas-main? And was this
+the end, or would it explode some more? Would the volcano go on erupting,
+and blow Peter and his frail packing-box thru the walls of Guggenheim&rsquo;s
+Department-store?
+</p>
+<p>
+So Peter waited, and listened to the horrible sounds of people in agony,
+and pleading with others to put them out of it. Peter heard voices of men
+giving orders, and realized that these must be policemen, and that no
+doubt there would be ambulances coming. Maybe there was something the
+matter with him, and he ought to crawl out and get himself taken care of.
+All of a sudden Peter remembered his stomach; and his wits, which had been
+sharpened by twenty years&rsquo; struggle against a hostile world, realized in a
+flash the opportunity which fate had brought to him. He must pretend to be
+wounded, badly wounded; he must be unconscious, suffering from shock and
+shattered nerves; then they would take him to the hospital and put him in
+a soft bed and give him things to eat&mdash;maybe he might stay there for
+weeks, and they might give him money when he came out.
+</p>
+<p>
+Or perhaps he might get a job in the hospital, something that was easy,
+and required only alert intelligence. Perhaps the head doctor in the
+hospital might want somebody to watch the other doctors, to see if they
+were neglecting the patients, or perhaps flirting with some of the nurses&mdash;there
+was sure to be something like that going on. It had been that way in the
+orphans&rsquo; home where Peter had spent a part of his childhood till he ran
+away. It had been that way again in the great Temple of Jimjambo,
+conducted by Pashtian el Kalandra, Chief Magistrian of Eleutherinian
+Exoticism. Peter had worked as scullion in the kitchen in that mystic
+institution, and had worked his way upward until he possessed the
+confidence of Tushbar Akrogas, major-domo and right hand man of the
+Prophet himself.
+</p>
+<p>
+Wherever there was a group of people, and a treasure to be administered,
+there Peter knew was backbiting and scandal and intriguing and spying, and
+a chance for somebody whose brains were &ldquo;all there.&rdquo; It might seem strange
+that Peter should think about such things, just then when the earth had
+opened up in front of him and the air had turned to roaring noise and
+blinding white flame, and had hurled him against the side of a building
+and dropped the bleeding half of a woman&rsquo;s body across his chest; but
+Peter had lived from earliest childhood by his wits and by nothing else,
+and such a fellow has to learn to use his wits under any and all
+circumstances, no matter how bewildering. Peter&rsquo;s training covered almost
+every emergency one could think of; he had even at times occupied himself
+by imagining what he would do if the Holy Rollers should turn out to be
+right, and if suddenly Gabriel&rsquo;s trumpet were to blow, and he were to find
+himself confronting Jesus in a long white night-gown.
+</p>
+<p>
+<br /><br />
+</p>
+<hr />
+<p>
+<a name="link2H_4_0003" id="link2H_4_0003"> </a>
+</p>
+<div style="height: 4em;">
+<br /><br /><br /><br />
+</div>
+<h2>
+Section 3
+</h2>
+<p>
+Peter&rsquo;s imaginings were brought to an end by the packing-box being pulled
+out from the wall. &ldquo;Hello!&rdquo; said a voice.
+</p>
+<p>
+Peter groaned, but did not look up. The box was pulled out further, and a
+face peered in. &ldquo;What you hidin&rsquo; in there for?&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+Peter stammered feebly: &ldquo;Wh-wh-what?&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;You hurt?&rdquo; demanded the voice.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;I dunno,&rdquo; moaned Peter.
+</p>
+<p>
+The box was pulled out further, and its occupant slid out. Peter looked
+up, and saw three or four policemen bending over him; he moaned again.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;How did you get in there?&rdquo; asked one.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;I crawled in.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;What for?&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;To g-g-get away from the&mdash;what was it?&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Bomb,&rdquo; said one of the policemen; and Peter was astounded that for a
+moment he forgot to be a nervous wreck.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Bomb!&rdquo; he cried; and at the same moment one of the policemen lifted him
+to his feet.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Can you stand up?&rdquo; he demanded; and Peter tried, and found that he could,
+and forgot that he couldn&rsquo;t. He was covered with blood and dirt, and was
+an unpresentable object, but he was really relieved to discover that his
+limbs were intact.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;What&rsquo;s your name?&rdquo; demanded one of the policemen, and when Peter
+answered, he asked, &ldquo;Where do you work?&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;I got no job,&rdquo; replied Peter.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Where&rsquo;d you work last?&rdquo; And then another broke in, &ldquo;What did you crawl in
+there for?&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;My God!&rdquo; cried Peter. &ldquo;I wanted to get away!&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+The policemen seemed to find it suspicious that he had stayed hidden so
+long. They were in a state of excitement themselves, it appeared; a
+terrible crime had been committed, and they were hunting for any trace of
+the criminal. Another man came up, not dressed in uniform, but evidently
+having authority, and he fell onto Peter, demanding to know who he was,
+and where he had come from, and what he had been doing in that crowd. And
+of course Peter had no very satisfactory answers to give to any of these
+questions. His occupations had been unusual, and not entirely credible,
+and his purposes were hard to explain to a suspicious questioner. The man
+was big and burly, at least a foot taller than Peter, and as he talked he
+stooped down and stared into Peter&rsquo;s eyes as if he were looking for dark
+secrets hidden back in the depths of Peter&rsquo;s skull. Peter remembered that
+he was supposed to be sick, and his eyelids drooped and he reeled
+slightly, so that the policemen had to hold him up.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;I want to talk to that fellow,&rdquo; said the questioner. &ldquo;Take him inside.&rdquo;
+ One of the officers took Peter under one arm, and the other under the
+other arm, and they half walked and half carried him across the street and
+into a building.
+</p>
+<p>
+<br /><br />
+</p>
+<hr />
+<p>
+<a name="link2H_4_0004" id="link2H_4_0004"> </a>
+</p>
+<div style="height: 4em;">
+<br /><br /><br /><br />
+</div>
+<h2>
+Section 4
+</h2>
+<p>
+It was a big store which the police had opened up. Inside there were
+wounded people lying on the floor, with doctors and others attending them.
+Peter was marched down the corridor, and into a room where sat or stood
+several other men, more or less in a state of collapse like himself;
+people who had failed to satisfy the police, and were being held under
+guard.
+</p>
+<p>
+Peter&rsquo;s two policemen backed him against the wall and proceeded to go thru
+his pockets, producing the shameful contents&mdash;a soiled rag, and two
+cigarette butts picked up on the street, and a broken pipe, and a watch
+which had once cost a dollar, but was now out of order, and too badly
+damaged to be pawned. That was all they had any right to find, so far as
+Peter knew. But there came forth one thing more&mdash;the printed circular
+which Peter had thrust into his pocket. The policeman who pulled it out
+took a glance at it, and then cried, &ldquo;Good God!&rdquo; He stared at Peter, then
+he stared at the other policeman and handed him the paper.
+</p>
+<p>
+At that moment the man not in uniform entered the room. &ldquo;Mr. Guffey!&rdquo;
+ cried the policeman. &ldquo;See this!&rdquo; The man took the paper, and glanced at
+it, and Peter, watching with bewildered and fascinated eyes, saw a most
+terrifying sight. It was as if the man went suddenly out of his mind. He
+glared at Peter, and under his black eyebrows the big staring eyes seemed
+ready to jump out of his head.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Aha!&rdquo; he exclaimed; and then, &ldquo;So I&rsquo;ve got you!&rdquo; The hand that held the
+paper was trembling, and the other hand reached out like a great claw, and
+fastened itself in the neck of Peter&rsquo;s coat, and drew it together until
+Peter was squeezed tight. &ldquo;You threw that bomb!&rdquo; hissed the man.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Wh-what?&rdquo; gasped Peter, his voice almost fainting. &ldquo;B-b-bomb?&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Out with it!&rdquo; cried the man, and his face came close to Peter&rsquo;s, his
+teeth gleaming as if he were going to bite off Peter&rsquo;s nose. &ldquo;Out with it!
+Quick! Who helped you?&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;My G-God!&rdquo; said Peter. &ldquo;I d-dunno what you mean.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;You dare lie to me?&rdquo; roared the man; and he shook Peter as if he meant to
+jar his teeth out. &ldquo;No nonsense now! Who helped you make that bomb?&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+Peter&rsquo;s voice rose to a scream of terror: &ldquo;I never saw no bomb! I dunno
+what you&rsquo;re talkin&rsquo; about!&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;You, come this way,&rdquo; said the man, and started suddenly toward the door.
+It might have been more convenient if he had turned Peter around, and got
+him by the back of his coat-collar; but he evidently held Peter&rsquo;s physical
+being as a thing too slight for consideration&mdash;he just kept his grip
+in the bosom of Peter&rsquo;s jacket, and half lifted him and half shoved him
+back out of the room, and down a long passage to the back part of the
+building. And all the time he was hissing into Peter&rsquo;s face: &ldquo;I&rsquo;ll have it
+out of you! Don&rsquo;t think you can lie to me! Make up your mind to it, you&rsquo;re
+going to come thru!&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+The man opened a door. It was some kind of storeroom, and he walked Peter
+inside and slammed the door behind him. &ldquo;Now, out with it!&rdquo; he said. The
+man thrust into his pocket the printed circular, or whatever it was&mdash;Peter
+never saw it again, and never found out what was printed on it. With his
+free hand the man grabbed one of Peter&rsquo;s hands, or rather one finger of
+Peter&rsquo;s hand, and bent it suddenly backward with terrible violence. &ldquo;Oh!&rdquo;
+ screamed Peter. &ldquo;Stop!&rdquo; And then, with a wild shriek, &ldquo;You&rsquo;ll break it.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;I mean to break it! mean to break every bone in your body! I&rsquo;ll tear your
+finger-nails out; I&rsquo;ll tear the eyes out of your head, if I have to! You
+tell me who helped you make that bomb!&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+Peter broke out in a storm of agonized protest; he had never heard of any
+bomb, he didn&rsquo;t know what the man was talking about; he writhed and
+twisted and doubled himself over backward, trying to evade the frightful
+pain of that pressure on his finger.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;You&rsquo;re lying!&rdquo; insisted Guffey. &ldquo;I know you&rsquo;re lying. You&rsquo;re one of that
+crowd.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;What crowd? Ouch! I dunno what you mean!&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;You&rsquo;re one of them Reds, aint you?&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Reds? What are Reds?&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;You want to tell me you don&rsquo;t know what a Red is? Aint you been giving
+out them circulars on the street?&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;I never seen the circular!&rdquo; repeated Peter. &ldquo;I never seen a word in it; I
+dunno what it is.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;You try to stuff me with that?&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Some woman gimme that circular on the street! Ouch! Stop! Jesus! I tell
+you I never looked at the circular!&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;You dare go on lying?&rdquo; shouted the man, with fresh access of rage. &ldquo;And
+when I seen you with them Reds? I know about your plots, I&rsquo;m going to get
+it out of you.&rdquo; He grabbed Peter&rsquo;s wrist and began to twist it, and Peter
+half turned over in the effort to save himself, and shrieked again, in
+more piercing tones, &ldquo;I dunno! I dunno!&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;What&rsquo;s them fellows done for you that you protect them?&rdquo; demanded the
+other. &ldquo;What good&rsquo;ll it do you if we hang you and let them escape?&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+But Peter only screamed and wept the louder.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;They&rsquo;ll have time to get out of town,&rdquo; persisted the other. &ldquo;If you speak
+quick we can nab them all, and then I&rsquo;ll let you go. You understand, we
+won&rsquo;t do a thing to you, if you&rsquo;ll come thru and tell us who put you up to
+this. We know it wasn&rsquo;t you that planned it; it&rsquo;s the big fellows we
+want.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+He began to wheedle and coax Peter; but then, when Peter answered again
+with his provoking &ldquo;I dunno,&rdquo; he would give another twist to Peter&rsquo;s
+wrist, and Peter would yell, almost incoherent with terror and pain&mdash;but
+still declaring that he could tell nothing, he knew nothing about any
+bomb.
+</p>
+<p>
+So at last Guffey wearied of this futile inquisition; or perhaps it
+occurred to him that this was too public a place for the prosecution of a
+&ldquo;third degree&rdquo;&mdash;there might be some one listening outside the door.
+He stopped twisting Peter&rsquo;s wrist, and tilted back Peter&rsquo;s head so that
+Peter&rsquo;s frightened eyes were staring into his.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Now, young fellow,&rdquo; he said, &ldquo;look here. I got no time for you just now,
+but you&rsquo;re going to jail, you&rsquo;re my prisoner, and make up your mind to it,
+sooner or later I&rsquo;m going to get it out of you. It may take a day, or it
+may take a month, but you&rsquo;re going to tell me about this bomb plot, and
+who printed this here circular opposed to Preparedness, and all about
+these Reds you work with. I&rsquo;m telling you now&mdash;so you think it over;
+and meantime, you hold your mouth, don&rsquo;t say a word to a living soul, or
+if you do I&rsquo;ll tear your tongue out of your throat.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+Then, paying no attention to Peter&rsquo;s wailings, he took him by the back of
+the collar and marched him down the hall again, and turned him over to one
+of the policemen. &ldquo;Take this man to the city jail,&rdquo; he said, &ldquo;and put him
+in the hole, and keep him there until I come, and don&rsquo;t let him speak a
+word to anybody. If he tries it, mash his mouth for him.&rdquo; So the policeman
+took poor sobbing Peter by the arm and marched him out of the building.
+</p>
+<p>
+<br /><br />
+</p>
+<hr />
+<p>
+<a name="link2H_4_0005" id="link2H_4_0005"> </a>
+</p>
+<div style="height: 4em;">
+<br /><br /><br /><br />
+</div>
+<h2>
+Section 5
+</h2>
+<p>
+The police had got the crowds driven back by now, and had ropes across the
+street to hold them, and inside the roped space were several ambulances
+and a couple of patrol-wagons. Peter was shoved into one of these latter,
+and a policeman sat by his side, and the bell clanged, and the
+patrol-wagon forced its way slowly thru the struggling crowd. Half an hour
+later they arrived at the huge stone jail, and Peter was marched inside.
+There were no formalities, they did not enter Peter on the books, or take
+his name or his finger prints; some higher power had spoken, and Peter&rsquo;s
+fate was already determined. He was taken into an elevator, and down into
+a basement, and then down a flight of stone steps into a deeper basement,
+and there was an iron door with a tiny slit an inch wide and six inches
+long near the top. This was the &ldquo;hole,&rdquo; and the door was opened and Peter
+shoved inside into utter darkness. The door banged, and the bolts rattled;
+and then silence. Peter sank upon a cold stone floor, a bundle of abject
+and hideous misery.
+</p>
+<p>
+These events had happened with such terrifying rapidity that Peter Gudge
+had hardly time to keep track of them. But now he had plenty of time, he
+had nothing but time. He could think the whole thing out, and realize the
+ghastly trick which fate had played upon him. He lay there, and time
+passed; he had no way of measuring it, no idea whether it was hours or
+days. It was cold and clammy in the stone cell; they called it the
+&ldquo;cooler,&rdquo; and used it to reduce the temperature of the violent and
+intractable. It was a trouble-saving device; they just left the man there
+and forgot him, and his own tormented mind did the rest.
+</p>
+<p>
+And surely no more tormented mind than the mind of Peter Gudge had ever
+been put in that black hole. It was the more terrible, because so utterly
+undeserved, so preposterous. For such a thing to happen to him, Peter
+Gudge, of all people&mdash;who took such pains to avoid discomfort in
+life, who was always ready to oblige anybody, to do anything he was told
+to do, so as to have&rsquo;an easy time, a sufficiency of food, and a warm
+corner to crawl into! What could have persuaded fate to pick him for the
+victim of this cruel prank; to put him into this position, where he could
+not avoid suffering, no matter what he did? They wanted him to tell
+something, and Peter would have been perfectly willing to tell anything&mdash;but
+how could he tell it when he did not know it?
+</p>
+<p>
+The more Peter thought about it, the more outraged he became. It was
+monstrous! He sat up and glared into the black darkness. He talked to
+himself, he talked to the world outside, to the universe which had
+forgotten his existence. He stormed, he wept. He got on his feet and flung
+himself about the cell, which was six feet square, and barely tall enough
+for him to stand erect. He pounded on the door with his one hand which
+Guffey had not lamed, he kicked, and he shouted. But there was no answer,
+and so far as he could tell, there was no one to hear.
+</p>
+<p>
+When he had exhausted himself, he sank down, and fell into a haunted
+sleep; and then he wakened again, to a reality worse than any nightmare.
+That awful man was coming after him again! He was going to torture him, to
+make him tell what he did not know! All the ogres and all the demons that
+had ever been invented to frighten the imagination of children were as
+nothing compared to the image of the man called Guffey, as Peter thought
+of him.
+</p>
+<p>
+Several ages after Peter had been locked up, he heard sounds outside, and
+the door was opened. Peter was cowering in the corner, thinking that
+Guffey had come. There was a scraping on the floor, and then the door was
+banged again, and silence fell. Peter investigated and discovered that
+they had put in a chunk of bread and a pan of water.
+</p>
+<p>
+Then more ages passed, and Peter&rsquo;s impotent ragings were repeated; then
+once more they brought bread and water, and Peter wondered, was it twice a
+day they brought it, or was this a new day? And how long did they mean to
+keep him here? Did they mean to drive him mad? He asked these questions of
+the man who brought the bread and water, but the man made no answer, he
+never at any time spoke a word. Peter had no company in that &ldquo;hole&rdquo; but
+his God; and Peter was not well acquainted with his God, and did not enjoy
+a tete-a-tete with Him.
+</p>
+<p>
+What troubled Peter most was the cold; it got into his bones, and his
+teeth were chattering all the time. Despite all his moving about, he could
+not keep warm. When the man opened the door, he cried out to him, begging
+for a blanket; each time the man came, Peter begged more frantically than
+ever. He was ill, he had been injured in the explosion, he needed a
+doctor, he was going to die! But there was never any answer. Peter would
+lie there and shiver and weep, and writhe, and babble, and lose
+consciousness for a while, and not know whether he was awake or asleep,
+whether he was living or dead. He was becoming delirious, and the things
+that were happening to him, the people who were tormenting him, became
+monsters and fiends who carried him away upon far journeys, and plunged
+him thru abysses of terror and torment.
+</p>
+<p>
+And yet, many and strange as were the phantoms which Peter&rsquo;s sick
+imagination conjured up, there was no one of them as terrible as the
+reality which prevailed just then in the life of American City, and was
+determining the destiny of a poor little man by the name of Peter Gudge.
+There lived in American City a group of men who had taken possession of
+its industries and dominated the lives of its population. This group,
+intrenched in power in the city&rsquo;s business and also in its government,
+were facing the opposition of a new and rapidly rising power, that of
+organized labor, determined to break the oligarchy of business and take
+over its powers. The struggle of these two groups was coming to its
+culmination. They were like two mighty wrestlers, locked in a grip of
+death; two giants in combat, who tear up trees by the roots and break off
+fragments of cliffs from the mountains to smash in each other&rsquo;s skulls.
+And poor Peter&mdash;what was he? An ant which happened to come blundering
+across the ground where these combatants met. The earth was shaken with
+their trampling, the dirt was kicked this way and that, and the unhappy
+ant was knocked about, tumbled head over heels, buried in the debris; and
+suddenly&mdash;Smash!&mdash;a giant foot came down upon the place where he
+was struggling and gasping!
+</p>
+<p>
+<br /><br />
+</p>
+<hr />
+<p>
+<a name="link2H_4_0006" id="link2H_4_0006"> </a>
+</p>
+<div style="height: 4em;">
+<br /><br /><br /><br />
+</div>
+<h2>
+Section 6
+</h2>
+<p>
+Peter had been in the &ldquo;hole&rdquo; perhaps three days, perhaps a week&mdash;he
+did not know, and no one ever told him. The door was opened again, and for
+the first time he heard a voice, &ldquo;Come out here.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+Peter had been longing to hear a voice; but now he shrunk terrified into a
+corner. The voice was the voice of Guffey, and Peter knew what it meant.
+His teeth began to rattle again, and he wailed, &ldquo;I dunno anything! I can&rsquo;t
+tell anything!&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+A hand reached in and took him by the collar, and he found himself walking
+down the corridor in front of Guffey. &ldquo;Shut up!&rdquo; said the man, in answer
+to all his wailings, and took him into a room and threw him into a chair
+as if he had been a bundle of bedding, and pulled up another chair and sat
+down in front of Peter.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Now look here,&rdquo; he said. &ldquo;I want to have an understanding with you. Do
+you want to go back into that hole again?&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;N-n-no,&rdquo; moaned Peter.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Well, I want you to know that you&rsquo;ll spend the rest of your life in that
+hole, except when you&rsquo;re talking to me. And when you&rsquo;re talking to me
+you&rsquo;ll be having your arms twisted off you, and splinters driven into your
+finger nails, and your skin burned with matches&mdash;until you tell me
+what I want to know. Nobody&rsquo;s going to help you, nobody&rsquo;s going to know
+about it. You&rsquo;re going to stay here with me until you come across.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+Peter could only sob and moan.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Now,&rdquo; continued Guffey, &ldquo;I been finding out all about you, I got your
+life story from the day you were born, and there&rsquo;s no use your trying to
+hide anything. I know your part in this here bomb plot, and I can send you
+to the gallows without any trouble whatever. But there&rsquo;s some things I
+can&rsquo;t prove on the other fellows. They&rsquo;re the big ones, the real devils,
+and they&rsquo;re the ones I want, so you&rsquo;ve got a chance to save yourself, and
+you better be thankful for it.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+Peter went on moaning and sobbing.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Shut up!&rdquo; cried the man. And then, fixing Peter&rsquo;s frightened gaze with
+his own, he continued, &ldquo;Understand, you got a chance to save yourself. All
+you got to do is to tell what you know. Then you can come out and you
+won&rsquo;t have any more trouble. We&rsquo;ll take good care of you; everything&rsquo;ll be
+easy for you.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+Peter continued to gaze like a fascinated rabbit. And such a longing as
+surged up in his soul&mdash;to be free, and out of trouble, and taken care
+of! If only he had known anything to tell; if only there was some way he
+could find out something to tell!
+</p>
+<p>
+<br /><br />
+</p>
+<hr />
+<p>
+<a name="link2H_4_0007" id="link2H_4_0007"> </a>
+</p>
+<div style="height: 4em;">
+<br /><br /><br /><br />
+</div>
+<h2>
+Section 7
+</h2>
+<p>
+Suddenly the man reached out and grasped one of Peter&rsquo;s hands. He twisted
+the wrist again, the sore wrist which still ached from the torture. &ldquo;Will
+you tell?&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;I&rsquo;d tell if I could!&rdquo; screamed Peter. &ldquo;My God, how can I?&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Don&rsquo;t lie to me,&rdquo; hissed the man. &ldquo;I know about it now, you can&rsquo;t fool
+me. You know Jim Goober.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;I never heard of him!&rdquo; wailed Peter.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;You lie!&rdquo; declared the other, and he gave Peter&rsquo;s wrist a twist.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Yes, yes, I know him!&rdquo; shrieked Peter.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Oh, that&rsquo;s more like it!&rdquo; said the other. &ldquo;Of course you know him. What
+sort of a looking man is he?&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;I&mdash;I dunno. He&rsquo;s a big man.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;You lie! You know he&rsquo;s a medium-sized man!&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;He&rsquo;s a medium-sized man.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;A dark man?&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Yes, a dark man.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;And you know Mrs. Goober, the music teacher?&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Yes, I know her.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;And you&rsquo;ve been to her house?&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Yes, I&rsquo;ve been to her house.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Where is their house?&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;I dunno&mdash;that is&mdash;&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;It&rsquo;s on Fourth Street?&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Yes, it&rsquo;s on Fourth Street.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;And he hired you to carry that suit-case with the bombs in it, didn&rsquo;t
+he?&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Yes, he hired me.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;And he told you what was in it, didn&rsquo;t he?&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;He&mdash;he&mdash;that is&mdash;I dunno.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;You don&rsquo;t know whether he told you?&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Y-y-yes, he told me.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;You knew all about the plot, didn&rsquo;t you?&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Y-y-yes, I knew.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;And you know Isaacs, the Jew?&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Y-y-yes, I know him.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;He was the fellow that drove the jitney, wasn&rsquo;t he?&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Y-y-yes, he drove the jitney.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Where did he drive it?&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;H-h-he drove it everywhere.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;He drove it over here with the suit-case, didn&rsquo;t he?&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Yes, he did.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;And you know Biddle, and you know what he did, don&rsquo;t you?&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Yes, I know.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;And you&rsquo;re willing to tell all you know about it, are you?&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Yes, I&rsquo;ll tell it all. I&rsquo;ll tell whatever you&mdash;&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;You&rsquo;ll tell whatever you know, will you?&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Y-y-yes, sir.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;And you&rsquo;ll stand by it? You&rsquo;ll not try to back out? You don&rsquo;t want to go
+back into the hole?&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;No, sir.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+And suddenly Guffey pulled from his pocket a paper folded up. It was
+several typewritten sheets. &ldquo;Peter Gudge,&rdquo; he said, &ldquo;I been looking up
+your record, and I&rsquo;ve found out what you did in this case. You&rsquo;ll see when
+you read how perfectly I&rsquo;ve got it. You won&rsquo;t find a single mistake in
+it.&rdquo; Guffey meant this for wit, but poor Peter was too far gone with
+terror to have any idea that there was such a thing as a smile in the
+world.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;This is your story, d&rsquo;you see?&rdquo; continued Guffey. &ldquo;Now take it and read
+it.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+So Peter took the paper in his trembling hand, the one which had not been
+twisted lame. He tried to read it, but his hand shook so that he had to
+put it on his knee, and then he discovered that his eyes had not yet got
+used to the light. He could not see the print. &ldquo;I c-c-can&rsquo;t,&rdquo; he wailed.
+</p>
+<p>
+And the other man took the paper from him. &ldquo;I&rsquo;ll read it to you,&rdquo; he said.
+&ldquo;Now you listen, and put your mind on it, and make sure I&rsquo;ve got it all
+right.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+And so Guffey started to read an elaborate legal document: &ldquo;I, Peter
+Gudge, being duly sworn do depose and declare&mdash;&rdquo; and so on. It was an
+elaborate and detailed story about a man named Jim Goober, and his wife
+and three other men, and how they had employed Peter to buy for them
+certain materials to make bombs, and how Peter had helped them to make the
+bombs in a certain room at a certain given address, and how they had put
+the bombs in a suit-case, with a time clock to set them off, and how
+Isaacs, the jitney driver, had driven them to a certain corner on Main
+Street, and how they had left the suit-case with the bombs on the street
+in front of the Preparedness Day parade.
+</p>
+<p>
+It was very simple and clear, and Peter, as he listened, was almost ready
+to cry with delight, realizing that this was all he had to do to escape
+from his horrible predicament. He knew now what he was supposed to know;
+and he knew it. Why had not Guffey told him long ago, so that he might
+have known it without having his fingers bent out of place and his wrist
+twisted off?
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Now then,&rdquo; said Guffey, &ldquo;that&rsquo;s your confession, is it?&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Y-y-yes,&rdquo; said Peter.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;And you&rsquo;ll stand by it to the end?&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Y-y-yes, sir.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;We can count on you now? No more nonsense?&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Y-y-yes, sir.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;You swear it&rsquo;s all true?&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;I do.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;And you won&rsquo;t let anybody persuade you to go back on it&mdash;no matter
+what they say to you?&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;N-n-no, sir,&rdquo; said Peter.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;All right,&rdquo; said Guffey; and his voice showed the relief of a business
+man who has closed an important deal. He became almost human as lie went
+on. &ldquo;Now, Peter,&rdquo; he said, &ldquo;you&rsquo;re our man, and we&rsquo;re going to count on
+you. You understand, of course, that we have to hold you as a witness, but
+you&rsquo;re not to be a prisoner, and we&rsquo;re going to treat you well. We&rsquo;ll put
+you in the hospital part of the jail, and you&rsquo;ll have good grub and
+nothing to do. In a week or so, we&rsquo;ll want you to appear before the grand
+jury. Meantime, you understand&mdash;not a word to a soul! People may try
+to worm something out of you, but don&rsquo;t you open your mouth about this
+case except to me. I&rsquo;m your boss, and I&rsquo;ll tell you what to do, and I&rsquo;ll
+take care of you all the way. You got that all straight?&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Y-y-yes, sir,&rdquo; said Peter.
+</p>
+<p>
+<br /><br />
+</p>
+<hr />
+<p>
+<a name="link2H_4_0008" id="link2H_4_0008"> </a>
+</p>
+<div style="height: 4em;">
+<br /><br /><br /><br />
+</div>
+<h2>
+Section 8
+</h2>
+<p>
+There was once, so legend declares, a darky who said that he liked to stub
+his toe because it felt so good when it stopped hurting. On this same
+principle Peter had a happy time in the hospital of the American City
+jail. He had a comfortable bed, and plenty to eat, and absolutely nothing
+to do. His sore joints became gradually healed, and he gained half a pound
+a day in weight, and his busy mind set to work to study the circumstances
+about him, to find out how he could perpetuate these comfortable
+conditions, and add to them the little luxuries which make life really
+worth living.
+</p>
+<p>
+In charge of this hospital was an old man by the name of Doobman. He had
+been appointed because he was the uncle of an alderman, and he had held
+the job for the last six years, and during that time had gained weight
+almost as rapidly as Peter was gaining. He had now come to a condition
+where he did not like to get out of his armchair if it could be avoided.
+Peter discovered this, and so found it possible to make himself useful in
+small ways. Also Mr. Doobman had a secret vice; he took snuff, and for the
+sake of discipline he did not want this dreadful fact to become known.
+Therefore he would wait until everybody&rsquo;s back was turned before he took a
+pinch of snuff; and Peter learned this, and would tactfully turn his back.
+</p>
+<p>
+Everybody in this hospital had some secret vice, and it was Mr. Doobman&rsquo;s
+duty to repress the vices of the others. The inmates of the hospital
+included many of the prisoners who had money, and could pay to make
+themselves comfortable. They wanted tobacco, whiskey, cocaine and other
+drugs, and some of them wanted a chance to practice unnamable horrors. All
+the money they could smuggle in they were ready to spend for license to
+indulge themselves. As for the attendants in the hospital, they were all
+political appointees, derelicts who had been unable to hold a job in the
+commercial world, and had sought an easy berth, like Peter himself. They
+took bribes, and were prepared to bribe Peter to outwit Mr. Doobman; Mr.
+Doobman, on the other hand, was prepared to reward Peter with many favors,
+if Peter would consent to bring him secret information. In such a
+situation it was possible for a man with his wits about him to accumulate
+quite a little capital.
+</p>
+<p>
+For the most part Peter stuck by Doobman; having learned by bitter
+experience that in the long run it pays to be honest. Doobman was referred
+to by the other attendants as the &ldquo;Old Man&rdquo;; and always in Peter&rsquo;s life,
+from the very dawn of childhood, there had been some such &ldquo;Old Man,&rdquo; the
+fountain-head of authority, the dispenser of creature comforts. First had
+been &ldquo;Old Man&rdquo; Drubb, who from early morning until late at night wore
+green spectacles, and a sign across his chest, &ldquo;I am blind,&rdquo; and made a
+weary little child lead him thru the streets by the hand. At night, when
+they got home to their garret-room, &ldquo;Old Man&rdquo; Drubb would take off his
+green goggles, and was perfectly able to see Peter, and if Peter had made
+the slightest mistake during the day he would beat him.
+</p>
+<p>
+When Drubb was arrested, Peter was taken to the orphan asylum, and there
+was another &ldquo;Old Man,&rdquo; and the same harsh lesson of subservience to be
+learned. Peter had run away from the asylum; and then had come Pericles
+Priam with his Pain Paralyzer, and Peter had studied his whims and served
+his interests. When Pericles had married a rich widow and she had kicked
+Peter out, there had come the Temple of Jimjambo, where the &ldquo;Old Man&rdquo; had
+been Tushbar Akrogas, the major-domo&mdash;terrible when he was thwarted,
+but a generous dispenser of favors when once you had learned to flatter
+him, to play upon his weaknesses, to smooth the path of his pleasures. All
+these years Peter had been forced to &ldquo;crook the pregnant hinges of the
+knee&rdquo;; it had become an instinct with him&mdash;an instinct that went back
+far behind the twenty years of his conscious life, that went back twenty
+thousand years, perhaps ten times twenty thousand years, to a time when
+Peter had chipped flint spear-heads at the mouth of some cave, and broiled
+marrow-bones for some &ldquo;Old Man&rdquo; of the borde, and seen rebellious young
+fellows cast out to fall prey to the sabre-tooth tiger.
+</p>
+<p>
+<br /><br />
+</p>
+<hr />
+<p>
+<a name="link2H_4_0009" id="link2H_4_0009"> </a>
+</p>
+<div style="height: 4em;">
+<br /><br /><br /><br />
+</div>
+<h2>
+Section 9
+</h2>
+<p>
+Peter found that he was something of a personality in this hospital. He
+was the &ldquo;star&rdquo; witness in the sensational Goober case, about which the
+whole city, and in fact the whole country was talking. It was known that
+he had &ldquo;turned State&rsquo;s&rdquo;; but just what he knew and what he had told was a
+mighty secret, and Peter &ldquo;held his mouth&rdquo; and looked portentous, and
+enjoyed thrills of self-importance.
+</p>
+<p>
+But meantime there was no reason why he should not listen to others talk;
+no reason why he should not inform himself fully about this case, so that
+in future he might be able to take care of himself. He listened to what
+&ldquo;Old Man&rdquo; Doobman had to say, and to what Jan Christian, his Swedish
+assistant had to say, and to what Gerald Leslie, the &ldquo;coke&rdquo; fiend, had to
+say. All these, and others, had friends on the outside, people who were
+&ldquo;in the know.&rdquo; Some told one thing, and others told exactly the opposite;
+but Peter put this and that together, and used his own intrigue-sharpened
+wits upon it, and before long he was satisfied that he had got the facts.
+</p>
+<p>
+Jim Goober was a prominent labor leader. He had organized the employees of
+the Traction Trust, and had called and led a tremendous strike. Also he
+had called building strikes, and some people said he had used dynamite
+upon uncompleted buildings, and made a joke of it. Anyhow, the business
+men of the city wanted to put him where he could no longer trouble them;
+and when some maniac unknown had flung a dynamite bomb into the path of
+the Preparedness parade, the big fellows of the city had decided that now
+was the opportunity they were seeking. Guffey, the man who had taken
+charge of Peter, was head of the secret service of the Traction Trust, and
+the big fellows had put him in complete charge. They wanted action, and
+would take no chances with the graft-ridden and incompetent police of the
+city. They had Goober in jail, with his wife and three of his gang, and
+thru the newspapers of the city they were carrying on a propaganda to
+prepare the public for the hanging of all five.
+</p>
+<p>
+And that was all right, of course; Jim Goober was only a name to Peter,
+and of less importance than a single one of Peter&rsquo;s meals. Peter
+understood what Guffey had done, and his only grudge was because Guffey
+had not had the sense to tell him his story at the beginning, instead of
+first nearly twisting his arm off. However, Peter reflected, no doubt
+Guffey had meant to teach him a lesson, to make sure of him. Peter had
+learned the lesson, and his purpose now was to make this clear to Guffey
+and to Doobman.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Hold your mouth,&rdquo; Guffey had said, and Peter never once said a word about
+the Goober case. But, of course, he talked about other matters. A fellow
+could not go around like a mummy all day long, and it was Peter&rsquo;s weakness
+that he liked to tell about his exploits, the clever devices by which he
+had outwitted his last &ldquo;Old Man.&rdquo; So to Gerald Leslie, the &ldquo;coke&rdquo; fiend,
+he told the story of Pericles Priam, and how many thousands of dollars he
+had helped to wheedle out of the public, and how twice he and Pericles had
+been arrested for swindling. Also he told about the Temple of Jimjambo,
+and all the strange and incredible things that had gone on there. Pashtian
+el Kalandra, who called himself the Chief Magistrian of Eleutherinian
+Exoticism, gave himself out to his followers to be eighty years of age,
+but as a matter of fact he was less than forty. He was supposed to be a
+Persian prince, but had been born in a small town in Indiana, and had
+begun life as a grocer-boy. He was supposed to live upon a handful of
+fruit, but every day it had been Peter&rsquo;s job to assist in the preparation
+of a large beef-steak or a roast chicken. These were &ldquo;for sacrificial
+purposes,&rdquo; so the prophet explained to his attendants; and Peter would get
+the remains of the sacrificial beef-steaks and chickens, and would
+sacrificially devour them behind the pantry door. That had been one of his
+private grafts, which he got in return for keeping secret from the prophet
+some of the stealings of Tushbar Akrogas, the major-domo.
+</p>
+<p>
+A wonderful place had been this Temple of Jimjambo. There were mystic
+altars with seven veils before them, and thru these the Chief Magistrian
+would appear, clad in a long cream-colored robe with gold and purple
+borders, and with pink embroidered slippers and symbolic head-dress. His
+lectures and religious rites had been attended by hundreds&mdash;many of
+them rich society women, who came rolling up to the temple in their
+limousines. Also there had been a school, where children had been
+initiated into the mystic rites of the cult. The prophet would take these
+children into his private apartments, and there were awful rumors&mdash;which
+had ended in the raiding of the temple by the police, and the flight of
+the prophet, and likewise of the majordomo, and of Peter Gudge, his
+scullion and confederate.
+</p>
+<p>
+Also, Peter thought it was fun to tell Gerald Leslie about his adventures
+with the Holy Rollers, into whose church he had drifted during his search
+for a job. Peter had taken up with this sect, and learned the art of
+&ldquo;talking in tongues,&rdquo; and how to fall over the back of your chair in
+convulsions of celestial glory. Peter had gained the confidence of the
+Rev. Gamaliel Lunk, and had been secretly employed by him to carry on a
+propaganda among the congregation to obtain a raise in salary for the
+underpaid convulsionist. But certain things which Peter had learned had
+caused him to go over to the faction of Shoemaker Smithers, who was trying
+to persuade the congregation that he could roll harder and faster than the
+Rev. Gamaliel. Peter had only held this latter job a few days before he
+had been fired for stealing the fried doughnut.
+</p>
+<p>
+<br /><br />
+</p>
+<hr />
+<p>
+<a name="link2H_4_0010" id="link2H_4_0010"> </a>
+</p>
+<div style="height: 4em;">
+<br /><br /><br /><br />
+</div>
+<h2>
+Section 10
+</h2>
+<p>
+All these things and more Peter told; thinking that he was safe now, under
+the protection of authority. But after he had spent about two months in
+the hospital, he was summoned one day into the office, and there stood
+Guffey, glowering at him in a black fury. &ldquo;You damned fool!&rdquo; were Guffey&rsquo;s
+first words.
+</p>
+<p>
+Peter&rsquo;s knees went weak and his teeth began to chatter again.
+&ldquo;Wh-wh-what?&rdquo; he cried.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Didn&rsquo;t I tell you to hold your mouth?&rdquo; And Guffey looked as if he were
+going to twist Peter&rsquo;s wrist again.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Mr. Guffey, I ain&rsquo;t told a soul! I ain&rsquo;t said one word about the Goober
+case, not one word!&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+Peter rushed on, pouring out protests. But Guffey cut him short. &ldquo;Shut up,
+you nut! Maybe you didn&rsquo;t talk about the Goober case, but you talked about
+yourself. Didn&rsquo;t you tell somebody you&rsquo;d worked with that fellow
+Kalandra?&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Y-y-yes, sir.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;And you knew the police were after him, and after you, too?&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Y-y-yes, sir.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;And you said you&rsquo;d been arrested selling fake patent medicines?&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Y-y-yes, sir.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Christ almighty!&rdquo; cried Guffey. &ldquo;And what kind of a witness do you think
+you&rsquo;ll make?&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;But,&rdquo; cried Peter in despair, &ldquo;I didn&rsquo;t tell anybody that would matter. I
+only&mdash;&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;What do you know what would matter?&rdquo; roared the detective, adding a
+stream of furious oaths. &ldquo;The Goober people have got spies on us; they&rsquo;ve
+got somebody right here in this jail. Anyhow, they&rsquo;ve found out about you
+and your record. You&rsquo;ve gone and ruined us with your blabbing mouth!&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;My Lord!&rdquo; whispered Peter, his voice dying away.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Look at yourself on a witness-stand! Look at what they&rsquo;ll do to you
+before a jury! Traveling over the country, swindling people with patent
+medicines&mdash;and getting in jail for it! Working for that hell-blasted
+scoundrel Kalandra&mdash;&rdquo; and Guffey added some dreadful words,
+descriptive of the loathsome vices of which the Chief Magistrian had been
+accused. &ldquo;And you mixed up in that kind of thing!&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;I never done anything like that!&rdquo; cried Peter wildly. &ldquo;I didn&rsquo;t even know
+for sure.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Tell that to the jury!&rdquo; sneered Guffey. &ldquo;Why, they&rsquo;ve even been to that
+Shoemaker Smithers, and they&rsquo;ll put his wife on the stand to prove you a
+sneak thief, and tell how she kicked you out. And all because you couldn&rsquo;t
+hold your mouth as I told you to!&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+Peter burst into tears. He fell down on his knees, pleading that he hadn&rsquo;t
+meant any harm; he hadn&rsquo;t had any idea that he was not supposed to talk
+about his past life; he hadn&rsquo;t realized what a witness was, or what he was
+supposed to do. All he had been told was to keep quiet about the Goober
+case, and he had kept quiet. So Peter sobbed and pleaded&mdash;but in
+vain. Guffey ordered him back to the hole, declaring his intention to
+prove that Peter was the one who had thrown the bomb, and that Peter,
+instead of Jim Goober, had been the head and front of the conspiracy.
+Hadn&rsquo;t Peter signed a confession that he had helped to make the bomb?
+</p>
+<p>
+<br /><br />
+</p>
+<hr />
+<p>
+<a name="link2H_4_0011" id="link2H_4_0011"> </a>
+</p>
+<div style="height: 4em;">
+<br /><br /><br /><br />
+</div>
+<h2>
+Section 11
+</h2>
+<p>
+Again Peter did not know how long he lay shivering in the black dungeon.
+He only knew that they brought him bread and water three times, before
+Guffey came again and summoned him forth. Peter now sat huddled into a
+chair, twisting his trembling hands together, while the chief detective of
+the Traction Trust explained to him his new program. Peter was permanently
+ruined as a witness in the case. The labor conspirators had raised huge
+sums for their defense; they had all the labor unions of the city, and in
+fact of the entire country behind them, and they were hiring spies and
+informers, and trying to find out all they could about the prosecution,
+the evidence it had collected and the moves it was preparing. Guffey did
+not say that he had been afraid to kick Peter out because of the
+possibility that Peter might go over to the Goober side and tell all he
+knew; but Peter guessed this while he sat listening to Guffey&rsquo;s
+explanation, and realized with a thrill of excitement that at last he had
+really got a hold upon the ladder of prosperity. Not in vain had his
+finger been almost broken and his wrist almost dislocated!
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Now,&rdquo; said Guffey, &ldquo;here&rsquo;s my idea: As a witness you&rsquo;re on the bum, but
+as a spy, you&rsquo;re it. They know that you blabbed, and that I know it; they
+know I&rsquo;ve had you in the hole. So now what I want to do is to make a
+martyr of you. D&rsquo;you see?&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+Peter nodded; yes, he saw. It was his specialty, seeing things like that.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;You&rsquo;re an honest witness, you understand? I tried to get you to lie, and
+you wouldn&rsquo;t, so now you go over to the other side, and they take you in,
+and you find out all you can, and from time to time you meet somebody as
+I&rsquo;ll arrange it, and send me word what you&rsquo;ve learned. You get me?&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;I get you,&rdquo; said Peter, eagerly. No words could portray his relief. He
+had a real job now! He was going to be a sleuth, like Guffey himself.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Now,&rdquo; said Guffey, &ldquo;the first thing I want to know is, who&rsquo;s blabbing in
+this jail; we can&rsquo;t do anything but they get tipped off. I&rsquo;ve got
+witnesses that I want kept hidden, and I don&rsquo;t dare put them here for fear
+of the Goober crowd. I want to know who are the traitors. I want to know a
+lot of things that I&rsquo;ll tell you from time to time. I want you to get next
+to these Reds, and learn about their ideas, so you can talk their lingo.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Sure,&rdquo; said Peter. He could not help smiling a little. He was supposed to
+be a &ldquo;Red&rdquo; already, to have been one of their leading conspirators. But
+Guffey had abandoned that pretence&mdash;or perhaps had forgotten about
+it!
+</p>
+<p>
+It was really an easy job that Peter had set before him. He did not have
+to pretend to be anything different from what he was. He would call
+himself a victim of circumstances, and would be honestly indignant against
+those who had sought to use him in a frame-up against Jim Goober. The rest
+would follow naturally. He would get the confidence of the labor people,
+and Guffey would tell him what to do next.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;We&rsquo;ll put you in one of the cells of this jail,&rdquo; said the chief
+detective, &ldquo;and we&rsquo;ll pretend to give you a &lsquo;third degree.&rsquo; You&rsquo;ll holler
+and make a fuss, and say you won&rsquo;t tell, and finally we&rsquo;ll give up and
+kick you out. And then all you have to do is just hang around. They&rsquo;ll
+come after you, or I miss my guess.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+So the little comedy was arranged and played thru. Guffey took Peter by
+the collar and led him out into the main part of the jail, and locked him
+in one of a row of open cells. He grabbed Peter by the wrist and pretended
+to twist it, and Peter pretended to protest. He did not have to draw on
+his imagination; he knew how it felt, and how he was supposed to act, and
+he acted. He sobbed and screamed, and again and again he vowed that he had
+told the truth, that he knew nothing else than what he had told, and that
+nothing could make him tell any more. Guffey left him there until late the
+next afternoon, and then came again, and took him by the collar, and led
+him out to the steps of the jail, and gave him a parting kick.
+</p>
+<p>
+Peter was free! What a wonderful sensation&mdash;freedom! God! Had there
+ever been anything like it? He wanted to shout and howl with joy. But
+instead he staggered along the street, and sank down upon a stone coping,
+sobbing, with his head clasped in his hands, waiting for something to
+happen. And sure enough, it happened. Perhaps an hour passed, when he was
+touched lightly on the shoulder. &ldquo;Comrade,&rdquo; said a soft voice, and Peter,
+looking between his fingers, saw the skirts of a girl. A folded slip of
+paper was pressed into his hand and the soft voice said: &ldquo;Come to this
+address.&rdquo; The girl walked on, and Peter&rsquo;s heart leaped with excitement.
+Peter was a sleuth at last!
+</p>
+<p>
+<br /><br />
+</p>
+<hr />
+<p>
+<a name="link2H_4_0012" id="link2H_4_0012"> </a>
+</p>
+<div style="height: 4em;">
+<br /><br /><br /><br />
+</div>
+<h2>
+Section 12
+</h2>
+<p>
+Peter waited until after dark, in order to indulge his sense of the
+romantic; also he flattered his self-importance by looking carefully about
+him as he walked down the street. He did not know just who would be
+shadowing him, but Peter wanted to be sleuthy.
+</p>
+<p>
+Also he had a bit of genuine anxiety. He had told the truth when he said
+to Guffey that he didn&rsquo;t know what a &ldquo;Red&rdquo; was; but since then he had been
+making in quiries, and now he knew. A &ldquo;Red&rdquo; was a fellow who sympathized
+with labor unions and with strikes; who wanted to murder the rich and
+divide their property, and believed that the quickest way to do the
+dividing was by means of dynamite. All &ldquo;Reds&rdquo; made bombs, and carried
+concealed weapons, and perhaps secret poisons&mdash;who could tell? And
+now Peter was going among them, he was going to become one of them! It was
+almost too interesting, for a fellow who aimed above everything to be
+comfortable. Something in him whispered, &ldquo;Why not skip; get out of town
+and be done with it?&rdquo; But then he thought of the rewards and honors that
+Guffey had promised him. Also there was the spirit of curiosity; he might
+skip at any time, but first he would like to know a bit more about being a
+&ldquo;dick.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+He came to the number which had been given him, a tiny bungalow in a poor
+neighborhood, and rang the doorbell. It was answered by a girl, and at a
+glance Peter saw that it was the girl who had spoken to him. She did not
+wait for him to announce himself, but cried impulsively, &ldquo;Mr. Gudge! Oh,
+I&rsquo;m so glad you&rsquo;ve come!&rdquo; She added, &ldquo;Comrade!&rdquo;&mdash;just as if Peter
+were a well-known friend. And then, &ldquo;But <i>are</i> you a comrade?&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;How do you mean?&rdquo; asked Peter.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;You&rsquo;re not a Socialist? Well, we&rsquo;ll make one of you.&rdquo; She brought him in
+and showed him to a chair, saying, &ldquo;I know what they did to you; and you
+stood out against them! Oh, you were wonderful! Wonderful!&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+Peter was at a loss what to say. There was in this girl&rsquo;s voice a note of
+affection, as well as of admiration; and Peter in his hard life had had
+little experience with emotions of this sort. Peter had watched the
+gushings and excitements of girls who were seeking flirtations; but this
+girl&rsquo;s attitude he felt at once was not flirtatious. Her voice tho soft,
+was just a trifle too solemn for a young girl; her deep-set, wistful grey
+eyes rested on Peter with the solicitude of a mother whose child has just
+escaped a danger.
+</p>
+<p>
+She called: &ldquo;Sadie, here&rsquo;s Mr. Gudge.&rdquo; And there entered another girl,
+older, taller, but thin and pale like her sister. Jennie and Sadie Todd
+were their names, Peter learned; the older was a stenographer, and
+supported the family. The two girls were in a state of intense concern.
+They started to question Peter about his experiences, but he had only
+talked for a minute or two before the elder went to the telephone. There
+were various people who must see Peter at once, important people who were
+to be notified as soon as he turned up. She spent some time at the phone,
+and the people she talked with must have phoned to others, because for the
+next hour or two there was a constant stream of visitors coming in, and
+Peter had to tell his story over and over again.
+</p>
+<p>
+The first to come was a giant of a man with tight-set mouth and so
+powerful a voice that it frightened Peter. He was not surprised to learn
+that this man was the leader of one of the most radical of the city&rsquo;s big
+labor unions, the seamen&rsquo;s. Yes, he was a &ldquo;Red,&rdquo; all right; he
+corresponded to Peter&rsquo;s imaginings&mdash;a grim, dangerous man, to be
+pictured like Samson, seizing the pillars of society and pulling them down
+upon his head. &ldquo;They&rsquo;ve got you scared, my boy,&rdquo; he said, noting Peter&rsquo;s
+hesitating answers to his questions. &ldquo;Well, they&rsquo;ve had me scared for
+forty-five years, but I&rsquo;ve never let them know it yet.&rdquo; Then, in order to
+cheer Peter up and strengthen his nerves, he told how he, a runaway
+seaman, had been hunted thru the Everglades of Florida with bloodhounds,
+and tied to a tree and beaten into insensibility.
+</p>
+<p>
+Then came David Andrews, whom Peter had heard of as one of the lawyers in
+the Goober case, a tall, distinguished-looking man with keen, alert
+features. What was such a man doing among these outcasts? Peter decided
+that he must be one of the shrewd ones who made money out of inciting the
+discontented. Then came a young girl, frail and sensitive, slightly
+crippled. As she crossed the room to shake his hand tears rolled down her
+cheeks, and Peter stood embarrassed, wondering if she had just lost a near
+relative, and what was he to say about it. From her first words he
+gathered, to his great consternation, that she had been moved to tears by
+the story of what he himself had endured.
+</p>
+<p>
+Ada Ruth was a poet, and this was a new type for Peter; after much groping
+in his mind he set her down for one of the dupes of the movement&mdash;a
+poor little sentimental child, with no idea of the wickedness by which she
+was surrounded. With her came a Quaker boy with pale, ascetic face and
+black locks which he had to shake back from his eyes every now and then;
+he wore a Windsor tie, and a black felt hat, and other marks of
+eccentricity and from his speeches Peter gathered that he was ready to
+blow up all the governments of the world in the interests of Pacificism.
+The same was true of McCormick, an I. W. W. leader who had just served
+sixty days in jail, a silent young Irishman with drawn lips and restless
+black eyes, who made Peter uneasy by watching him closely and saying
+scarcely a word.
+</p>
+<p>
+<br /><br />
+</p>
+<hr />
+<p>
+<a name="link2H_4_0013" id="link2H_4_0013"> </a>
+</p>
+<div style="height: 4em;">
+<br /><br /><br /><br />
+</div>
+<h2>
+Section 13
+</h2>
+<p>
+They continued to come, one at a time or in groups; old women and young
+women, old men and young men, fanatics and dreamers, agitators who could
+hardly open their mouths without some white-hot words escaping, revealing
+a blaze of passion smouldering in the deeps of them. Peter became more and
+more uneasy, realizing that he was actually in the midst of all the most
+dangerous &ldquo;Reds&rdquo; of American City. They it was whom our law-abiding
+citizens dreaded, who were the objects of more concern to the police than
+all the plain, everyday burglars and bandits. Peter now could see the
+reason&mdash;he had not dreamed that such angry and hate-tormented people
+existed in the world. Such people would be capable of anything! He sat,
+with his restless eyes wandering from one face to another. Which one of
+this crowd had helped to set off the bomb? And would they boast about it
+to him this evening?
+</p>
+<p>
+Peter half expected this; but then again, he wondered. They were such
+strange criminals! They called him &ldquo;Comrade&rdquo;; and they spoke with that
+same affection that had so bewildered him in little Jennie. Was this just
+a ruse to get his confidence, or did these people really think that they
+loved him&mdash;Peter Gudge, a stranger and a secret enemy? Peter had been
+at great pains to fool them; but they seemed to him so easy to fool that
+his pains were wasted. He despised them for this, and all the while he
+listened to them he was saying to himself, &ldquo;The poor nuts!&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+They had come to hear his story, and they plied him with questions, and
+made him tell over and over again every detail. Peter, of course, had been
+carefully instructed; he was not to mention the elaborate confession he
+had been made to sign; that would be giving too dangerous a weapon to
+these enemies of law and order. He must tell as brief a story as possible;
+how he had happened to be near the scene of the explosion, and how the
+police had tried to force him to admit that he knew something about the
+case. Peter told this, according to orders; but he had not been prepared
+for the minute questioning to which he was subjected by Andrews, the
+lawyer, aided by old John Durand, the leader of the seamen. They wanted to
+know everything that had been done to him, and who had done it, and how
+and when and where and why. Peter had a sense of the dramatic, and enjoyed
+being the center of attention and admiration, even tho it was from a
+roomful of criminal &ldquo;Reds.&rdquo; So he told all the picturesque details of how
+Guffey had twisted his wrist and shut him in a dungeon; the memory of the
+pain was still poignant, and came out of him now, with a realism that
+would have moved a colder group.
+</p>
+<pre xml:space="preserve">
+So pretty soon here were all these women sobbing and raging. Little
+Ada Ruth became inspired, and began reciting a poem&mdash;or was she
+composing it right here, before his eyes? She seemed entranced with
+indignation. It was something about the workers arising&mdash;the outcry
+of a mob&mdash;
+
+&ldquo;No further patience with a heedless foe&mdash;
+Get off our backs, or else to hell you go!&rdquo;
+ </pre>
+<p>
+Peter listened, and thought to himself, &ldquo;The poor nut!&rdquo; And then Donald
+Gordon, the Quaker boy, took the floor, and began shaking his long black
+locks, and composing a speech, it seemed. And Peter listened, and thought
+again, &ldquo;The poor nut!&rdquo; Then another man, the editor of a labor journal,
+revealed the fact that he was composing an editorial; he knew Guffey, and
+was going to publish Guffey&rsquo;s picture, and brand him as an
+&ldquo;Inquisitionist.&rdquo; He asked for Peter&rsquo;s picture, and Peter agreed to have
+one taken, and to be headlined as &ldquo;The Inquisitionist&rsquo;s Victim.&rdquo; Peter had
+no idea what the long word meant; but he assented, and thought again, &ldquo;The
+poor nut!&rdquo; All of them were &ldquo;nuts&rdquo;&mdash;taking other people&rsquo;s troubles
+with such excitement!
+</p>
+<p>
+But Peter was frightened, too; he couldn&rsquo;t altogether enjoy being a hero,
+in this vivid and startling fashion; having his name and fame spread from
+one end of the country to the other, so that organized labor might know
+the methods which the great traction interests of American City were
+employing to send a well-known labor leader to the gallows! The thing
+seemed to grow and grow before Peter&rsquo;s frightened eyes. Peter, the ant,
+felt the earth shaking, and got a sudden sense of the mountain size of the
+mighty giants who were stamping in combat over his head. Peter wondered,
+had Guffey realized what a stir his story would make, what a powerful
+weapon he was giving to his enemies? What could Guffey expect to get from
+Peter, to compensate for this damage to his own case? Peter, as he
+listened to the stormy oratory in the crowded little room, found himself
+thinking again and again of running away. He had never seen anything like
+the rage into which these people worked themselves, the terrible things
+they said, the denunciations, not merely of the police of American City,
+but of the courts and the newspapers, the churches and the colleges,
+everything that seemed respectable and sacred to law-abiding citizens like
+Peter Gudge.
+</p>
+<p>
+Peter&rsquo;s fright became apparent. But why shouldn&rsquo;t he be frightened?
+Andrews, the lawyer, offered to take him away and hide him, lest the
+opposition should try to make way with him. Peter would be a most
+important witness for the Goober defense, and they must take good care of
+him. But Peter recovered his self-possession, and took up his noble role.
+No, he would take his chances with the rest of them, he was not too much
+afraid.
+</p>
+<p>
+Sadie Todd, the stenographer, rewarded him for his heroism. They had a
+spare bedroom in their little home, and if Peter cared to stay with them
+for a while, they would try to make him comfortable. Peter accepted this
+invitation, and at a late hour in the evening the gathering broke up. The
+various groups of &ldquo;Reds&rdquo; went their way, their hands clenched and their
+faces portraying a grim resolve to make out of Peter&rsquo;s story a means of
+lashing discontented labor to new frenzies of excitement. The men clasped
+Peter&rsquo;s hand cordially; the ladies gazed at him with soulful eyes, and
+whispered their admiration for his brave course, their hope, indeed their
+conviction, that he would stand by the truth to the end, and would study
+their ideas and join their &ldquo;movement.&rdquo; All the while Peter watched them,
+and continued saying to himself: &ldquo;The poor nuts!&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+<br /><br />
+</p>
+<hr />
+<p>
+<a name="link2H_4_0014" id="link2H_4_0014"> </a>
+</p>
+<div style="height: 4em;">
+<br /><br /><br /><br />
+</div>
+<h2>
+Section 14
+</h2>
+<p>
+The respectable newspapers of American City of course did not waste their
+space upon fantastic accusations brought by radicals, charging the police
+authorities with using torture upon witnesses. But there was a Socialist
+paper published every week in American City, and this paper had a long
+account of Peter&rsquo;s experiences on the front page, together with his
+picture. Also there were three labor papers which carried the story, and
+the Goober Defense Committee prepared a circular about it and mailed out
+thousands of copies all over the country. This circular was written by
+Donald Gordon, the Quaker boy. He brought Peter a proof of it, to make
+sure that he had got all the details right, and Peter read it, and really
+could not help being thrilled to discover what a hero he was. Peter had
+not said anything about his early career, and whoever among the Goober
+Defense Committee had learned those details chose to be diplomatically
+silent. Peter smiled to himself as he thought about that. They were foxy,
+these people! They were playing their hand for all it was worth&mdash;and
+Peter admired them for that. In Donald Gordon&rsquo;s narrative Peter appeared
+as a poor workingman; and Peter grinned. He was used to the word
+&ldquo;working,&rdquo; but when he talked about &ldquo;working people,&rdquo; he meant something
+different from what these Socialists meant.
+</p>
+<p>
+The story went out, and of course all sorts of people wanted to meet
+Peter, and came to the home of the Todd girls. So Peter settled down to
+his job of finding out all he could about these visitors, their names and
+occupations, their relations to the radical movement. Guffey had advised
+him not to make notes, for fear of detection, but Peter could not carry
+all this in his head, so he would retire to his room and make minute notes
+on slips of paper, and carefully sew these up in the lining of his coat,
+with a thrill of mystery.
+</p>
+<p>
+Except for this note-taking, however, Peter&rsquo;s sleuthing was easy work, for
+these people all seemed eager to talk about what they were doing;
+sometimes it frightened Peter&mdash;they were so open and defiant! Not
+merely did they express their ideas to one another and to him, they were
+expressing them on public platforms, and in their publications, in
+pamphlets and in leaflets&mdash;what they called &ldquo;literature.&rdquo; Peter had
+had no idea their &ldquo;movement&rdquo; was so widespread or so powerful. He had
+expected to unearth a secret conspiracy, and perhaps a dynamite-bomb or
+two; instead of which, apparently, he was unearthing a volcano!
+</p>
+<p>
+However, Peter did the best he could. He got the names and details about
+some forty or fifty people of all classes; obscure workingmen and women,
+Jewish tailors, Russian and Italian cigar-workers, American-born
+machinists and printers; also some &ldquo;parlor Reds&rdquo;&mdash;large, immaculate
+and shining ladies who came rolling up to the little bungalow in large,
+immaculate and shining automobiles, and left their uniformed chauffeurs
+outside for hours at a time while they listened to Peter&rsquo;s story of his
+&ldquo;third degree.&rdquo; One benevolent lady with a flowing gray veil, who wafted a
+sweet perfume about the room, suggested that Peter might be in need, and
+pressed a twenty dollar bill into his hand. Peter, thrilled, but also
+bewildered, got a new sense of the wonders of this thing called &ldquo;the
+movement,&rdquo; and decided that when Guffey got thru with him he might turn
+into a &ldquo;Red&rdquo; in earnest for a while.
+</p>
+<p>
+Meantime he settled down to make himself comfortable with the Todd
+sisters. Sadie went off to her work before eight o&rsquo;clock every morning,
+and that was before Peter got up; but Jennie stayed at home, and fixed his
+breakfast, and opened the door for his visitors, and in general played the
+hostess for him. She was a confirmed invalid; twice a week she went off to
+a doctor to have something done to her spine, and the balance of the time
+she was supposed to be resting, but Peter very seldom saw her doing this.
+She was always addressing circulars, or writing letters for the &ldquo;cause,&rdquo;
+ or going off to sell literature and take up collections at meetings. When
+she was not so employed, she was arguing with somebody&mdash;frequently
+with Peter&mdash;trying to make him think as she did.
+</p>
+<p>
+Poor kid, she was all wrought up over the notions she had got about the
+wrongs of the working classes. She gave herself no peace about it, day or
+night, and this, of course, was a bore to Peter, who wanted peace above
+all things. Over in Europe millions of men were organized in armies,
+engaged in slaughtering one another. That, of course, was, very terrible,
+but what was the good of thinking about it? There was no way to stop it,
+and it certainly wasn&rsquo;t Peter&rsquo;s fault. But this poor, deluded child was
+acting all the time as if she were to blame for this European conflict,
+and had the job of bringing it to a close. The tears would come into her
+deep-set grey eyes, and her soft chin would quiver with pain whenever she
+talked about it; and it seemed to Peter she was talking about it all the
+time. It was her idea that the war must be stopped by uprisings on the
+part of the working people in Europe. Apparently she thought this might be
+hastened if the working people of American City would rise up and set an
+example!
+</p>
+<p>
+<br /><br />
+</p>
+<hr />
+<p>
+<a name="link2H_4_0015" id="link2H_4_0015"> </a>
+</p>
+<div style="height: 4em;">
+<br /><br /><br /><br />
+</div>
+<h2>
+Section 15
+</h2>
+<p>
+Jennie talked about this plan quite openly; she would put a red ribbon in
+her hair, and pin a red badge on her bosom, and go into meeting-places and
+sell little pamphlets with red covers. So, of course, it would be Peter&rsquo;s
+duty to report her to the head of the secret service of the Traction
+Trust. Peter regretted this, and was ashamed of having to do it; she was a
+nice little girl, and pretty, too, and a fellow might have had some fun
+with her if she had not been in such a hysterical state. He would sit and
+look at her, as she sat bent over her typewriter. She had soft, fluffy
+hair, the color of twilight, and even white teeth, and a faint flush that
+came and went in her cheeks&mdash;yes, she would not be bad looking at
+all, if only she would straighten up, and spend a little time on her
+looks, as other girls did.
+</p>
+<p>
+But no, she was always in a tension, and the devil of it was, she was
+trying to get Peter into the same state. She was absolutely determined
+that Peter must get wrought up over the wrongs of the working classes. She
+took it for granted that he would, when he was instructed. She would tell
+him harrowing stories, and it was his duty to be duly harrowed; he must be
+continually acting an emotional part. She would give him some of her
+&ldquo;literature&rdquo; to read, and then she would pin him down and make sure that
+he had read it. He knew how to read&mdash;Pericles Priam had seen to that,
+because he wanted him to attend to the printing of his circulars and his
+advertisements in the country newspapers where he was traveling. So now
+Peter was penned in a corner and compelled to fix his attention upon &ldquo;The
+A. B. C. of Socialism,&rdquo; or &ldquo;Capital and Proletariat,&rdquo; or &ldquo;The Path to
+Power.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+Peter told himself that it was part of his job to acquire this
+information. He was going to be a &ldquo;Red,&rdquo; and he must learn their lingo;
+but he found it awfully tiresome, full of long technical words which he
+had never heard before. Why couldn&rsquo;t these fellows at least talk American?
+He had known that there were Socialists, and also &ldquo;Arnychists,&rdquo; as he
+called them, and he thought they were all alike. But now he learned, not
+merely about Socialists and &ldquo;Arnychists,&rdquo; but about State Socialists and
+Communist Anarchists, and Communist Syndicalists and Syndicalist
+Anarchists and Socialist Syndicalists, and Reformist Socialists and Guild
+Socialists, to say nothing about Single Taxers and Liberals and
+Progressives and numerous other varieties, whom he had to meet and
+classify and listen to respectfully and sympathetically. Each particular
+group insisted upon the distinctions which made it different, and each
+insisted that it had the really, truly truth; and Peter became desperately
+bored with their everlasting talk&mdash;how much more simple to lump them
+all together, as did Guffey and McGivney, calling them all &ldquo;Reds!&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+Peter had got it clearly fixed in his mind that what these &ldquo;Reds&rdquo; wanted
+was to divide up the property of the rich. Everyone he had questioned
+about them had said this. But now he learned that this wasn&rsquo;t it exactly.
+What they wanted was to have the State take over the industries, or to
+have the labor unions do it, or to have the working people in general do
+it. They pointed to the post office and the army and the navy, as examples
+of how the State could run things. Wasn&rsquo;t that all right? demanded Jennie.
+And Peter said Yes, that was all right; but hidden back in Peter&rsquo;s soul
+all the time was a whisper that it wouldn&rsquo;t make a damn bit of difference.
+There was a sucker born every minute, and you might be sure that no matter
+how they fixed it up, there would always be some that would find it easy
+to live off the rest. This poor kid, for example, who was ready to throw
+herself away for any fool notion, or for anybody that came along and told
+her a hard-luck story&mdash;would there ever be a state of society in
+which she wouldn&rsquo;t be a juicy morsel to be gobbled up by some fellow with
+a normal appetite?
+</p>
+<p>
+She was alone in the house all day with Peter, and she got to seem more
+and more pretty as he got to know her better. Also it was evident that she
+liked Peter more and more as Peter played his game. Peter revealed himself
+as deeply sympathetic, and a quick convert to the cause; he saw everything
+that Jennie explained to him, he was horrified at the horrible stories, he
+was ready to help her end the European war by starting a revolution among
+the working people of American City. Also, he told her about himself, and
+awakened her sympathy for his harsh life, his twenty years of privation
+and servitude; and when she wept over this, Peter liked it. It was fine,
+somehow, to have her so sorry for him; it helped to compensate him for the
+boredom of hearing her be sorry for the whole working class.
+</p>
+<p>
+Peter didn&rsquo;t know whether Jennie had learned about his bad record, but he
+took no chances&mdash;he told her everything, and thus took the sting out
+of it. Yes, he had been trapped into evil ways, but it wasn&rsquo;t his fault,
+he hadn&rsquo;t known any better, he had been a pitiful victim of circumstances.
+He told how he had been starved and driven about and beaten by &ldquo;Old Man&rdquo;
+ Drubb, and the tears glistened in Jennie&rsquo;s grey eyes and stole down her
+cheeks. He told about loneliness and heartsickness and misery in the
+orphan asylum. And how could he, poor lad, realize that it was wrong to
+help Pericles Priam sell his Peerless Pain Paralyzer? How could he know
+whether the medicine was any good or not&mdash;he didn&rsquo;t even know now, as
+a matter of fact. As for the Temple of Jimjambo, all that Peter had done
+was to wash dishes and work as a kitchen slave, as in any hotel or
+restaurant.
+</p>
+<p>
+It was a story easy to fix up, and especially easy because the first
+article in the creed of Socialist Jennie was that economic circumstances
+were to blame for human frailties. That opened the door for all varieties
+of grafters, and made the child such an easy mark that Peter would have
+been ashamed to make a victim of her, had it not been that she happened to
+stand in the path of his higher purposes&mdash;and also that she happened
+to be young, only seventeen, with tender grey eyes, and tempting, sweet
+lips, alone there in the house all day.
+</p>
+<p>
+<br /><br />
+</p>
+<hr />
+<p>
+<a name="link2H_4_0016" id="link2H_4_0016"> </a>
+</p>
+<div style="height: 4em;">
+<br /><br /><br /><br />
+</div>
+<h2>
+Section 16
+</h2>
+<p>
+Peter&rsquo;s adventures in love had so far been pretty much of a piece with the
+rest of his life experiences; there had been hopes, and wonderful dreams,
+but very few realizations. Peter knew a lot about such matters; in the
+orphan asylum there were few vicious practices which he did not witness,
+few obscene imaginings with which he was not made familiar. Also, Pericles
+Priam had been a man like the traditional sailor, with a girl in every
+port; and generally in these towns and villages there had been no place
+for Peter to go save where Pericles went, so Peter had been the witness of
+many of his master&rsquo;s amours and the recipient of his confidences. But none
+of these girls and women had paid any attention to Peter. Peter was only a
+&ldquo;kid&rdquo;; and when he grew up and was no longer a kid, but a youth tormented
+with sharp desires, they still paid no attention to him&mdash;why should
+they? Peter was nothing; he had no position, no money, no charms; he was
+frail and undersized, his teeth were crooked, and one shoulder higher than
+the other. What could he expect from women and girls but laughter and
+rebuffs?
+</p>
+<p>
+Then Peter moved on to the Temple of Jimjambo, and there a devastating
+experience befell him&mdash;he tumbled head over heels and agonizingly in
+love. There was a chambermaid in the institution, a radiant creature from
+the Emerald Isles with hair like sunrise and cheeks like apples, and a
+laugh that shook the dish-pans on the kitchen walls. She laughed at Peter,
+she laughed at the major-domo, she laughed at all the men in the place who
+tried to catch her round the waist. Once or twice a month perhaps she
+would let them succeed, just to keep them interested, and to keep herself
+in practice.
+</p>
+<p>
+The only one she really favored was the laundry deliveryman, and Peter
+soon realized why. This laundry fellow had the use of an automobile on
+Sundays, and Nell would dress herself up to kill, and roll away in state
+with him. He would spend all his week&rsquo;s earnings entertaining her at the
+beach; Peter knew, because she would tell the whole establishment on
+Monday morning. &ldquo;Gee, but I had a swell time!&rdquo; she would say; and would
+count the ice-creams and the merry-go-rounds and the whirly-gigs and all
+the whang-doodle things. She would tell about the tattooed men and the
+five-legged calf and the woman who was half man, and all the while she
+would make the dishpans rattle.
+</p>
+<p>
+Yes, she was a marvelous creature, and Peter suddenly realized that his
+ultimate desire in life was to possess a &ldquo;swell lady-friend&rdquo; like Nell. He
+realized that there was one essential prerequisite, and that was money.
+None of them would look at you without money. Nell had gone out with him
+only once, and that was upon the savings of six months, and Peter had not
+been able to conceal the effort it cost him to spend it all. So he had
+been set down as a &ldquo;tight-wad,&rdquo; and had made no headway.
+</p>
+<p>
+Nell had disappeared, along with everybody else when the police raided the
+Temple. Peter never knew what had become of her, but the old longings
+still haunted him, and he would find himself imagining&mdash;suppose the
+police had got her; suppose she were in jail, and he with his new &ldquo;pull&rdquo;
+ were able to get her out, and carry her away and keep her hid from the
+laundry man!
+</p>
+<p>
+These were dreams; but meantime here was reality, here was a new world.
+Peter had settled down in the home of the Todd sisters; and what was their
+attitude toward these awful mysteries of love?
+</p>
+<p>
+<br /><br />
+</p>
+<hr />
+<p>
+<a name="link2H_4_0017" id="link2H_4_0017"> </a>
+</p>
+<div style="height: 4em;">
+<br /><br /><br /><br />
+</div>
+<h2>
+Section 17
+</h2>
+<p>
+It had been arranged with Guffey that at the end of a week Peter was to
+have a secret meeting with one of the chief detective&rsquo;s men. So Peter told
+the girls that he was tired of being a prisoner in the house and must get
+some fresh air.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Oh please, Mr. Gudge, don&rsquo;t take such a chance!&rdquo; cried Sadie, her thin,
+anxious face suddenly growing more anxious and thin. &ldquo;Don&rsquo;t you know this
+house is being watched? They are just hoping to catch you out alone. It
+would be the last of you.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;I&rsquo;m not so important as that,&rdquo; said Peter; but she insisted that he was,
+and Peter was pleased, in spite of his boredom, he liked to hear her
+insist upon his importance.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Oh!&rdquo; she cried. &ldquo;Don&rsquo;t you know yet how much depends on you as a witness
+for the Goober defense? This case is of concern to millions of people all
+over the world! It is a test case, Mr. Gudge&mdash;are they to be allowed
+to murder the leaders of the working class without a struggle? No, we must
+show them that there is a great movement, a world-wide awakening of the
+workers, a struggle for freedom for the wage slaves&mdash;&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+But Peter could stand no more of this. &ldquo;All right,&rdquo; he said, suddenly
+interrupting Sadie&rsquo;s eloquence. &ldquo;I suppose it&rsquo;s my duty to stay, even if I
+die of consumption, being shut up without any fresh air.&rdquo; He would play
+the martyr; which was not so hard, for he was one, and looked like one,
+with his thin, one-sided little figure, and his shabby clothes. Both Sadie
+and Jennie gazed at him with admiration, and sighed with relief.
+</p>
+<p>
+But later on, Peter thought of an idea. He could go out at night, he told
+Sadie, and slip out the back way, so that no one would see him; he would
+not go into crowds or brightly lighted streets, so there would be no
+chance of his being recognized. There was a fellow he absolutely had to
+see, who owed him some money; it was way over on the other side of the
+city&mdash;that was why he rejected Jennie&rsquo;s offer to accompany him.
+</p>
+<p>
+So that evening Peter climbed a back fence and stole thru a neighbor&rsquo;s
+chicken-yard and got away. He had a fine time ducking and dodging in the
+crowds, making sure that no one was trailing him to his secret rendezvous&mdash;no
+&ldquo;Red&rdquo; who might chance to be suspicious of his &ldquo;comradeship.&rdquo; It was in
+the &ldquo;American House,&rdquo; an obscure hotel, and Peter was to take the elevator
+to the fourth floor, without speaking to any one, and to tap three times
+on the door of Room 427. Peter did so, and the door opened, and he slipped
+in, and there he met Jerry McGivney, with the face of a rat.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Well, what have you got?&rdquo; demanded McGivney; and Peter sat down and
+started to tell. With eager fingers he undid the amateur sewing in the
+lining of his coat, and pulled out his notes with the names and
+descriptions of people who had come to see him.
+</p>
+<p>
+McGivney glanced over them quickly. &ldquo;Jesus!&rdquo; he said, &ldquo;What&rsquo;s the good of
+all this?&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Well, but they&rsquo;re Reds!&rdquo; exclaimed Peter.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;I know,&rdquo; said the other, &ldquo;but what of that? We can go hear them spout at
+meetings any night. We got membership lists of these different
+organizations. But what about the Goober case?&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Well,&rdquo; said Peter, &ldquo;they&rsquo;re agitating about it all the time; they&rsquo;ve been
+printing stuff about me.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Sure, we know that,&rdquo; said McGivney. &ldquo;And the hell of a fine story you
+gave them; you must have enjoyed hearing yourself talk. But what good does
+that do us?&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;But what do you want to know?&rdquo; cried Peter, in dismay.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;We want to know their secret plans,&rdquo; said the other. &ldquo;We want to know
+what they&rsquo;re doing to get our witnesses; we want to know who it is that is
+selling us out, who&rsquo;s the spy in the jail. Didn&rsquo;t you find that out?&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;N-no,&rdquo; said Peter. &ldquo;Nobody said anything about it.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Good God!&rdquo; said the detective. &ldquo;D&rsquo;you expect them to bring you things on
+a silver tray?&rdquo; He began turning over Peter&rsquo;s notes again, and finally
+threw them on the bed in disgust. He began questioning Peter, and Peter&rsquo;s
+dismay turned to despair. He had not got a single thing that McGivney
+wanted. His whole week of &ldquo;sleuthing&rdquo; had been wasted!
+</p>
+<p>
+The detective did not mince words. &ldquo;It&rsquo;s plain that you&rsquo;re a boob,&rdquo; he
+said. &ldquo;But such as you are, we&rsquo;ve got to do the best we can with you. Now,
+put your mind on it and get it straight: we know who these Reds are, and
+we know what they&rsquo;re teaching; we can&rsquo;t send &lsquo;em to jail for that. What we
+want you to find out is the name of their spy, and who are their witnesses
+in the Goober case, and what they&rsquo;re going to say.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;But how can I find out things like that?&rdquo; cried Peter.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;You&rsquo;ve got to use your wits,&rdquo; said McGivney. &ldquo;But I&rsquo;ll give you one tip;
+get yourself a girl.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;A girl?&rdquo; cried Peter, in wonder.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Sure thing,&rdquo; said the other. &ldquo;That&rsquo;s the way we always work. Guffey says
+there&rsquo;s just three times when people tell their secrets: The first is when
+they&rsquo;re drunk, and the second is when they&rsquo;re in love&mdash;&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+Then McGivney stopped. Peter, who wanted to complete his education,
+inquired, &ldquo;And the third?&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;The third is when they&rsquo;re both drunk and in love,&rdquo; was the reply. And
+Peter was silent, smitten with admiration. This business of sleuthing was
+revealing itself as more complicated and more fascinating all the time.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Ain&rsquo;t you seen any girl you fancy in that crowd?&rdquo; demanded the other.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Well&mdash;it might be&mdash;&rdquo; said Peter, shyly.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;It ought to be easy,&rdquo; continued the detective. &ldquo;Them Reds are all free
+lovers, you know.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Free lovers!&rdquo; exclaimed Peter. &ldquo;How do you mean?&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Didn&rsquo;t you know about that?&rdquo; laughed the other.
+</p>
+<p>
+Peter sat staring at him. All the women that Peter had ever known or heard
+of took money for their love. They either took it directly, or they took
+it in the form of automobile rides and flowers and candy and tickets to
+the whang-doodle things. Could it be that there were women who did not
+take money in either form, but whose love was entirely free?
+</p>
+<p>
+The detective assured him that such was the case. &ldquo;They boast about it,&rdquo;
+ said he. &ldquo;They think it&rsquo;s right.&rdquo; And to Peter that seemed the most
+shocking thing he had yet heard about the Reds.
+</p>
+<p>
+To be sure, when he thought it over, he could see that it had some
+redeeming points; it was decidedly convenient from the point of view of
+the man; it was so much money in his pocket. If women chose to be that
+silly&mdash;and Peter found himself suddenly thinking about little Jennie
+Todd. Yes, she would be that silly, it was plain to see. She gave away
+everything she had; so of course she would be a &ldquo;free lover!&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+Peter went away from his rendezvous with McGivney, thrilling with a new
+and wonderful idea. You couldn&rsquo;t have got him to give up his job now. This
+sleuthing business was the real thing!
+</p>
+<p>
+It was late when Peter got home, but the two girls were sitting up for
+him, and their relief at his safe return was evident. He noticed that
+Jennie&rsquo;s face expressed deeper concern than her sister&rsquo;s, and this gave
+him a sudden new emotion. Jennie&rsquo;s breath came and went more swiftly
+because he had entered the room; and this affected his own breath in the
+same way. He had a swift impulse towards her, an entirely unselfish desire
+to reassure her and relieve her anxiety; but with an instinctive
+understanding of the sex game which he had not before known he possessed,
+he checked this impulse and turned instead to the older sister, assuring
+her that nobody had followed him. He told an elaborate story, prepared on
+the way; he had worked for ten days for a fellow at sawing wood&mdash;hard
+work, you bet, and then the fellow had tried to get out of paying him!
+Peter had caught him at his home that evening, and had succeeded in
+getting five dollars out of him, and a promise of a few dollars more every
+week. That was to cover future visits to McGivney.
+</p>
+<p>
+<br /><br />
+</p>
+<hr />
+<p>
+<a name="link2H_4_0018" id="link2H_4_0018"> </a>
+</p>
+<div style="height: 4em;">
+<br /><br /><br /><br />
+</div>
+<h2>
+Section 18
+</h2>
+<p>
+Peter lay awake a good part of the night, thinking over this new job&mdash;that
+of getting himself a girl. He realized that for some time he had been
+falling in love with little Jennie; but he wanted to be sane and
+practical, he wanted to use his mind in choosing a girl. He was after
+information, first of all. And who had the most to give him? He thought of
+Miss Nebbins, who was secretary to Andrews, the lawyer; she would surely
+know more secrets than anyone else; but then, Miss Nebbins was an old
+maid, who wore spectacles and broad-toed shoes, and was evidently out of
+the question for love-making. Then he thought of Miss Standish, a tall,
+blond beauty who worked in an insurance office and belonged to the
+Socialist Party. She was a &ldquo;swell dresser,&rdquo; and Peter would have been glad
+to have something like that to show off to McGivney and the rest of
+Guffey&rsquo;s men; but with the best efforts of his self-esteem, Peter could
+not imagine himself persuading Miss Standish to look at him. There was a
+Miss Yankovich, one of the real Reds, who trained with the I. W. W.; but
+she was a Jewess, with sharp, black eyes that clearly indicated a temper,
+and frightened Peter. Also, he had a suspicion that she was interested in
+McCormick&mdash;tho of course with these &ldquo;free lovers&rdquo; you could never
+tell.
+</p>
+<p>
+But one girl Peter was quite sure about, and that was little Jennie; he
+didn&rsquo;t know if Jennie knew many secrets, but surely she could find some
+out for him. Once he got her for his own, he could use her to question
+others. And so Peter began to picture what love with Jennie would be like.
+She wasn&rsquo;t exactly what you would call &ldquo;swell,&rdquo; but there was something
+about her that made him sure he needn&rsquo;t be ashamed of her. With some new
+clothes she would be pretty, and she had grand manners&mdash;she had not
+shown the least fear of the rich ladies who came to the house in their
+automobiles; also she knew an awful lot for a girl&mdash;even if most of
+what she knew wasn&rsquo;t so!
+</p>
+<p>
+Peter lost no time in setting to work at his new job. In the papers next
+morning appeared the usual details from Flanders; thousands of men being
+shot to pieces almost every hour of the day and night, a million men on
+each side locked in a ferocious combat that had lasted for weeks, that
+might last for months. And sentimental little Jennie sat there with
+brimming eyes, talking about it while Peter ate his oatmeal and thin milk.
+And Peter talked about it too; how wicked it was, and how they must stop
+it, he and Jennie together. He agreed with her now; he was a Socialist, he
+called her &ldquo;Comrade,&rdquo; and told her she had converted him. Her eyes lighted
+up with joy, as if she had really done something to end the war.
+</p>
+<p>
+They were sitting on the sofa, looking at the paper, and they were alone
+in the house. Peter suddenly looked up from the reading and said, very
+much embarrassed, &ldquo;But Comrade Jennie&mdash;&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Yes,&rdquo; she said, and looked at him with her frank grey eyes. Peter was
+shy, truly a little frightened, this kind of detective business being new
+to him.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Comrade Jennie,&rdquo; he said, &ldquo;I&mdash;I&mdash;don&rsquo;t know just how to say it,
+but I&rsquo;m afraid I&rsquo;m falling a little in love.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+Jennie drew back her hands, and Peter heard her breath come quickly. &ldquo;Oh,
+Mr. Gudge!&rdquo; she exclaimed.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;I&mdash;I don&rsquo;t know&mdash;&rdquo; stammered Peter. &ldquo;I hope you won&rsquo;t mind.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Oh, don&rsquo;t let&rsquo;s do that!&rdquo; she cried.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Why not, Comrade Jennie?&rdquo; And he added, &ldquo;I don&rsquo;t know as I can help it.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Oh, we were having such a happy time, Mr. Gudge! I thought we were going
+to work for the cause!&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Well, but it won&rsquo;t interfere&mdash;&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Oh, but it does, it does; it makes people unhappy!&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Then&mdash;&rdquo; and Peter&rsquo;s voice trembled&mdash;&ldquo;then you don&rsquo;t care the
+least bit for me, Comrade Jennie?&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+She hesitated a moment. &ldquo;I don&rsquo;t know,&rdquo; she said. &ldquo;I hadn&rsquo;t thought&mdash;&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+And Peter&rsquo;s heart gave a leap inside him. It was the first time that any
+girl had ever had to hesitate in answering that question for Peter.
+Something prompted him&mdash;just as if he had been doing this kind of
+&ldquo;sleuthing&rdquo; all his life. He reached over, and very gently took her hand.
+&ldquo;You do care just a little for me?&rdquo; he whispered.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Oh, Comrade Gudge,&rdquo; she answered, and Peter said, &ldquo;Call me &lsquo;Peter.&rsquo; 
+Please, please do.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Comrade Peter,&rdquo; she said, and there was a little catch in her throat, and
+Peter, looking at her, saw that her eyes were cast down.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;I know I&rsquo;m not very much to love,&rdquo; he pleaded. &ldquo;I&rsquo;m poor and obscure&mdash;I&rsquo;m
+not good looking&mdash;&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Oh, it isn&rsquo;t that!&rdquo; she cried, &ldquo;Oh, no, no! Why should I think about such
+things? You are a comrade!&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+Peter had known, of course, just how she would take this line of talk.
+&ldquo;Nobody has ever loved me,&rdquo; he said, sadly. &ldquo;Nobody cares anything about
+you, when you are poor, and have nothing to offer&mdash;&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;I tell you, that isn&rsquo;t it!&rdquo; she insisted. &ldquo;Please don&rsquo;t think that! You
+are a hero. You have sacrificed for the cause, and you are going on and
+become a leader.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;I hope so,&rdquo; said Peter, modestly. &ldquo;But then, what is it, Comrade Jennie?
+Why don&rsquo;t you care for me?&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+She looked up at him, and their eyes met, and with a little sob in her
+voice she answered, &ldquo;I&rsquo;m not well, Comrade Peter. I&rsquo;m of no use; it would
+be wicked for me to marry.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+Somewhere back in the depths of Peter, where his inner self was crouching,
+it was as if a sudden douche of ice-cold water were let down on him.
+&ldquo;Marry!&rdquo; Who had said anything about marrying? Peter&rsquo;s reaction fitted the
+stock-phrase of the comic papers: &ldquo;This is so sudden!&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+But Peter was too clever to reveal such dismay. He humored little Jennie,
+saying, &ldquo;We don&rsquo;t have to marry right away. I could wait, if only I knew
+that you cared for me; and some day, when you get well&mdash;&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+She shook her head sadly. &ldquo;I&rsquo;m afraid I&rsquo;ll never get really well. And
+besides, neither of us have any money, Comrade Peter.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+Ah, there it was! Money, always money! This &ldquo;free love&rdquo; was nothing but a
+dream.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;I could get a job,&rdquo; said Peter&mdash;just like any other tame and
+conventional wooer.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;But you couldn&rsquo;t earn enough for two of us,&rdquo; protested the girl; and
+suddenly she sprang up. &ldquo;Oh, Comrade Peter, let&rsquo;s not fall in love with
+each other! Let&rsquo;s not make ourselves unhappy, let&rsquo;s work for the cause!
+Promise me that you will!&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+Peter promised; but of course he had no remotest intention of keeping the
+promise. He was not only a detective, he was a man&mdash;and in both
+capacities he wanted Comrade Jennie. He had all the rest of the day, and
+over the addressing of envelopes which he undertook with her, he would now
+and then steal love-glances; and Jennie knew now what these looks meant,
+and the faint flush would creep over her cheeks and down into her neck and
+throat. She was really very pretty when she was falling in love, and Peter
+found his new job the most delightful one of his lifetime. He watched
+carefully, and noted the signs, and was sure he was making no mistake;
+before Sadie came back at supper-time he had his arms about Comrade
+Jennie, and was pressing kisses upon the lovely white throat; and Comrade
+Jennie was sobbing softly, and her pleading with him to stop had grown
+faint and unconvincing.
+</p>
+<p>
+<br /><br />
+</p>
+<hr />
+<p>
+<a name="link2H_4_0019" id="link2H_4_0019"> </a>
+</p>
+<div style="height: 4em;">
+<br /><br /><br /><br />
+</div>
+<h2>
+Section 19
+</h2>
+<p>
+There was the question of Sadie to be settled. There was a certain severe
+look that sometimes came about Sadie&rsquo;s lips, and that caused Peter to feel
+absolutely certain that Comrade Sadie had no sympathy with &ldquo;free love,&rdquo;
+ and very little sympathy with any love save her own for Jennie. She had
+nursed her &ldquo;little sister&rdquo; and tended her like a mother for many years;
+she took the food out of her mouth to give to Jennie&mdash;and Jennie in
+turn gave it to any wandering agitator who came along and hung around
+until mealtime. Peter didn&rsquo;t want Sadie to know what had been going on in
+her absence, and yet he was afraid to suggest to Jennie that she should
+deceive her sister.
+</p>
+<p>
+He managed it very tactfully. Jennie began pleading again: &ldquo;We ought not
+to do this, Comrade Peter!&rdquo; And so Peter agreed, perhaps they oughtn&rsquo;t,
+and they wouldn&rsquo;t any more. So Jennie put her hair in order, and
+straightened her blouse, and her lover could see that she wasn&rsquo;t going to
+tell Sadie.
+</p>
+<p>
+And the next day they were kissing again and agreeing again that they
+mustn&rsquo;t do it; and so once more Jennie didn&rsquo;t tell Sadie. Before long
+Peter had managed to whisper the suggestion that their love was their own
+affair, and they ought not to tell anybody for the present; they would
+keep the delicious secret, and it would do no one any harm. Jennie had
+read somewhere about a woman poet by the name of Mrs. Browning, who had
+been an invalid all her life, and whose health had been completely
+restored by a great and wonderful love. Such a love had now come to her;
+only Sadie might not understand, Sadie might think they did not know each
+other well enough, and that they ought to wait. They knew, of course, that
+they really did know each other perfectly, so there was no reason for
+uncertainty or fear. Peter managed deftly to put these suggestions into
+Jennie&rsquo;s mind as if they were her own.
+</p>
+<p>
+And all the time he was making ardent love to her; all day long, while he
+was helping her address envelopes and mail out circulars for the Goober
+Defense Committee. He really did work hard; he didn&rsquo;t mind working, when
+he had Jennie at the table beside him, and could reach over and hold her
+hand every now and then, or catch her in his arms and murmur passionate
+words. Delicious thrills and raptures possessed him; his hopes would rise
+like a flood-tide&mdash;but then, alas, only to ebb again! He would get so
+far, and every time it would be as if he had run into a stone wall. No
+farther!
+</p>
+<p>
+Peter realized that McGivney&rsquo;s &ldquo;free love&rdquo; talk had been a cruel mistake.
+Little Jennie was like all the other women&mdash;her love wasn&rsquo;t going to
+be &ldquo;free.&rdquo; Little Jennie wanted a husband, and every time you kissed her,
+she began right away to talk about marriage, and you dared not hint at
+anything else because you knew it would spoil everything. So Peter was
+thrown back upon devices older than the teachings of any &ldquo;Reds.&rdquo; He went
+after little Jennie, not in the way of &ldquo;free lovers,&rdquo; but in the way of a
+man alone in the house with a girl of seventeen, and wishing to seduce
+her. He vowed that he loved her with an overwhelming and eternal love. He
+vowed that he would get a job and take care of her. And then he let her
+discover that he was suffering torments; he could not live without her. He
+played upon her sympathy, he played upon her childish innocence, he played
+upon that pitiful, weak sentimentality which caused her to believe in
+pacifism and altruism and socialism and all the other &ldquo;isms&rdquo; that were
+jumbled up in her head.
+</p>
+<p>
+And so in a couple of weeks Peter had succeeded in his purpose of carrying
+little Jennie by storm. And then, how enraptured he was! Peter, with his
+first girl, decided that being a detective was the job for him! Peter knew
+that he was a real detective now, using the real inside methods, and on
+the trail of the real secrets of the Goober case!
+</p>
+<p>
+And sure enough, he began at once to get them. Jennie was in love; Jennie
+was, as you might say, &ldquo;drunk with love,&rdquo; and so she fulfilled both the
+conditions which Guffey had laid down. So Jennie told the truth! Sitting
+on Peter&rsquo;s knee, with her arms clasped about him, and talking about her
+girlhood, the happy days before her mother and father had been killed in
+the factory where they worked, little Jennie mentioned the name of a young
+man, Ibbetts.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Ibbetts?&rdquo; said Peter. It was a peculiar name, and sounded familiar.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;A cousin of ours,&rdquo; said Jennie.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Have I met him?&rdquo; asked Peter, groping in his mind.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;No, he hasn&rsquo;t been here.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Ibbetts?&rdquo; he repeated, still groping; and suddenly he remembered. &ldquo;Isn&rsquo;t
+his name Jack?&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+Jennie did not answer for a moment. He looked at her, and their eyes met,
+and he saw that she was frightened. &ldquo;Oh, Peter!&rdquo; she whispered. &ldquo;I wasn&rsquo;t
+to tell! I wasn&rsquo;t to tell a soul!&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+Inside Peter, something was shouting with delight. To hide his emotion he
+had to bury his face in the soft white throat. &ldquo;Sweetheart!&rdquo; he whispered.
+&ldquo;Darling!&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Uh, Peter!&rdquo; she cried. &ldquo;You know&mdash;don&rsquo;t you?&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Of course!&rdquo; he laughed. &ldquo;But I won&rsquo;t tell. You needn&rsquo;t mind trusting me.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Oh, but Mr. Andrews was so insistent!&rdquo; said Jennie, &ldquo;He made Sadie and me
+swear that we wouldn&rsquo;t breathe it to a soul.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Well, you didn&rsquo;t tell,&rdquo; said Peter. &ldquo;I found it out by accident. Don&rsquo;t
+mention it, and nobody will be any the wiser. If they should find out that
+I know, they wouldn&rsquo;t blame you; they&rsquo;d understand that I know Jack
+Ibbetts&mdash;me being in jail so long.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+So Jennie forgot all about the matter, and Peter went on with the kisses,
+making her happy, as a means of concealing his own exultation. He had done
+the job for which Guffey had sent him! He had solved the first great
+mystery of the Goober case! The spy in the jail of American City, who was
+carrying out news to the Defense Committee, was Jack Ibbetts, one of the
+keepers in the jail, and a cousin of the Todd sisters!
+</p>
+<p>
+<br /><br />
+</p>
+<hr />
+<p>
+<a name="link2H_4_0020" id="link2H_4_0020"> </a>
+</p>
+<div style="height: 4em;">
+<br /><br /><br /><br />
+</div>
+<h2>
+Section 20
+</h2>
+<p>
+It was fortunate that this was the day of Peter&rsquo;s meeting with McGivney.
+He could really not have kept this wonderful secret to himself over night.
+He made excuses to the girls, and dodged thru the chicken-yard as before,
+and made his way to the American House. As he walked, Peter&rsquo;s mind was
+working busily. He had really got his grip on the ladder of prosperity
+now; he must not fail to tighten it.
+</p>
+<p>
+McGivney saw right away from Peter&rsquo;s face that something had happened.
+&ldquo;Well?&rdquo; he inquired.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;I&rsquo;ve got it!&rdquo; exclaimed Peter.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Got what?&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;The name of the spy in the jail.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Christ! You don&rsquo;t mean it!&rdquo; cried the other.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;No doubt about it,&rdquo; answered Peter.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Who is he?&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+Peter clenched his hands and summoned his resolution. &ldquo;First,&rdquo; he said,
+&ldquo;you and me got to have an understanding. Mr. Guffey said I was to be
+paid, but he didn&rsquo;t say how much, or when.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Oh, hell!&rdquo; said McGivney. &ldquo;If you&rsquo;ve got the name of that spy, you don&rsquo;t
+need to worry about your reward.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Well, that&rsquo;s all right,&rdquo; said Peter, &ldquo;but I&rsquo;d like to know what I&rsquo;m to
+get and how I&rsquo;m to get it.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;How much do you want?&rdquo; demanded the man with the face of a rat. Rat-like,
+he was retreating into a corner, his sharp black eyes watching his enemy.
+&ldquo;How much?&rdquo; he repeated.
+</p>
+<p>
+Peter had tried his best to rise to this occasion. Was he not working for
+the greatest and richest concern in American City, the Traction Trust?
+Tens and hundreds of millions of dollars they were worth&mdash;he had no
+idea how much, but he knew they could afford to pay for his secret. &ldquo;I
+think it ought to be worth two hundred dollars,&rdquo; he said.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Sure,&rdquo; said McGivney, &ldquo;that&rsquo;s all right. We&rsquo;ll pay you that.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+And straightway Peter&rsquo;s heart sank. What a fool he had been! Why hadn&rsquo;t he
+had more courage, and asked for five hundred dollars? He might even have
+asked a thousand, and made himself independent for life!
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Well,&rdquo; said McGivney, &ldquo;who&rsquo;s the spy?&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+Peter made an agonizing, effort, and summoned yet more nerve. &ldquo;First, I
+got to know, when do I get that money?&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Oh, good God!&rdquo; said McGivney. &ldquo;You give us the information, and you&rsquo;ll
+get your money all right. What kind of cheap skates do you take us for?&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Well, that&rsquo;s all right,&rdquo; said Peter. &ldquo;But you know, Mr. Guffey didn&rsquo;t
+give me any reason to think he loved me. I still can hardly use this wrist
+like I used to.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Well, he was trying to get some information out of you,&rdquo; said McGivney.
+&ldquo;He thought you were one of them dynamiters&mdash;how could you blame him?
+You give me the name of that spy, and I&rsquo;ll see you get your money.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+But still Peter wouldn&rsquo;t yield. He was afraid of the rat-faced McGivney,
+and his heart was thumping fast, but he stood his ground. &ldquo;I think I ought
+to see that money,&rdquo; he said, doggedly.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Say, what the hell do you take me for?&rdquo; demanded the detective. &ldquo;D&rsquo;you
+suppose I&rsquo;m going to give you two hundred dollars and then have you give
+me some fake name and skip?&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Oh, I wouldn&rsquo;t do that!&rdquo; cried Peter.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;How do I know you wouldn&rsquo;t?&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Well, I want to go on working for you.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Sure, and we want you to go on working for us. This ain&rsquo;t the last secret
+we&rsquo;ll get from you, and you&rsquo;ll find we play straight with our people&mdash;how&rsquo;d
+we ever get anywheres otherwise? There&rsquo;s a million dollars been put up to
+hang that Goober crowd, and if you deliver the goods, you&rsquo;ll get your
+share, and get it right on time.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+He spoke with conviction, and Peter was partly persuaded. But most of
+Peter&rsquo;s lifetime had been spent in watching people bargaining with one
+another&mdash;watching scoundrels trying to outwit one another&mdash;and
+when it was a question of some money to be got, Peter was like a bulldog
+that has got his teeth fixed tight in another dog&rsquo;s nose; he doesn&rsquo;t
+consider the other dog&rsquo;s feelings, nor does he consider whether the other
+dog admires him or not.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;On time?&rdquo; said Peter. &ldquo;What do you mean by &lsquo;on time&rsquo;?&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Oh, my God!&rdquo; said McGivney, in disgust.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Well, but I want to know,&rdquo; said Peter. &ldquo;D&rsquo;you mean when I give the name,
+or d&rsquo;you mean after you&rsquo;ve gone and found out whether he really is the spy
+or not?&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+So they worried back and forth, these snarling bulldogs, growing more and
+more angry. But Peter was the one who had got his teeth in, and Peter hung
+on. Once McGivney hinted quite plainly that the great Traction Trust had
+had power enough to shut Peter in the &ldquo;hole&rdquo; on two occasions and keep him
+there, and it might have power enough to do it a third time. Peter&rsquo;s heart
+failed with terror, but all the same, he hung on to McGivney&rsquo;s nose.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;All right,&rdquo; said the rat-faced man, at last. He said it in a tone of
+wearied scorn; but that didn&rsquo;t worry Peter a particle. &ldquo;All right, I&rsquo;ll
+take a chance with you.&rdquo; And he reached into his pocket and pulled out a
+roll of bills&mdash;twenty dollar bills they were, and he counted out ten
+of them. Peter saw that there was still a lot left to the roll, and knew
+that he hadn&rsquo;t asked as much money as McGivney had been prepared to have
+him ask; so his heart was sick within him. At the same time his heart was
+leaping with exultation&mdash;such a strange thing is the human heart!
+</p>
+<p>
+<br /><br />
+</p>
+<hr />
+<p>
+<a name="link2H_4_0021" id="link2H_4_0021"> </a>
+</p>
+<div style="height: 4em;">
+<br /><br /><br /><br />
+</div>
+<h2>
+Section 21
+</h2>
+<p>
+McGivney laid the money on the bed. &ldquo;There it is,&rdquo; he said, &ldquo;and if you
+give me the name of the spy you can take it. But you&rsquo;d better take my
+advice and not spend it, because if it turns out that you haven&rsquo;t got the
+spy, by God, I believe Ed Guffey&rsquo;d twist the arms out of you!&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+Peter was easy about that. &ldquo;I know he&rsquo;s the spy all right.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Well, who is he?&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;He&rsquo;s Jack Ibbetts.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;The devil you say!&rdquo; cried McGivney, incredulously.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Jack Ibbetts, one of the night keepers in the jail.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;I know him,&rdquo; said the other. &ldquo;But what put that notion into your head?&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;He&rsquo;s a cousin of the Todd sisters.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Who are the Todd sisters?&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Jennie Todd is my girl,&rdquo; said Peter.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Girl!&rdquo; echoed the other; he stared at Peter, and a grin spread over his
+face. &ldquo;You got a girl in two weeks? I didn&rsquo;t know you had it in you!&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+It was a doubtful compliment, but Peter&rsquo;s smile was no less expansive, and
+showed all his crooked teeth. &ldquo;I got her all right,&rdquo; he said, &ldquo;and she
+blabbed it out the first thing&mdash;that Ibbetts was her cousin. And then
+she was scared, because Andrews, the lawyer, had made her and her sister
+swear they wouldn&rsquo;t mention his name to a soul. So you see, they&rsquo;re using
+him for a spy&mdash;there ain&rsquo;t a particle of doubt about it.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Good God!&rdquo; said McGivney, and there was genuine dismay in his tone.
+&ldquo;Who&rsquo;d think it possible? Why, Ibbetts is as decent a fellow as ever you
+talked to&mdash;and him a Red, and a traitor at that! You know, that&rsquo;s
+what makes it the devil trying to handle these Reds&mdash;you never can
+tell who they&rsquo;ll get; you never know who to trust. How, d&rsquo;you suppose they
+manage it?&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;I dunno,&rdquo; said Peter. &ldquo;There&rsquo;s a sucker born every minute, you know!&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Well, anyhow, I see you ain&rsquo;t one of &lsquo;em,&rdquo; said the rat-faced man, as he
+watched Peter take the roll of bills from the bed and tuck them away in an
+inside pocket.
+</p>
+<p>
+<br /><br />
+</p>
+<hr />
+<p>
+<a name="link2H_4_0022" id="link2H_4_0022"> </a>
+</p>
+<div style="height: 4em;">
+<br /><br /><br /><br />
+</div>
+<h2>
+Section 22
+</h2>
+<p>
+Peter was warned by the rat-faced man that he must be careful how he spent
+any of that money. Nothing would be more certain to bring suspicion on him
+than to have it whispered about that he was &ldquo;in funds.&rdquo; He must be able to
+show how he had come honestly by everything he had. And Peter agreed to
+that; he would hide the money away in a safe place until he was thru with
+his job.
+</p>
+<p>
+Then he in turn proceeded to warn McGivney. If they were to fire Ibbetts
+from his job, it would certainly cause talk, and might direct suspicion
+against Peter. McGivney answered with a smile that he wasn&rsquo;t born
+yesterday. They would &ldquo;promote&rdquo; Jack Ibbetts, giving him some job where he
+couldn&rsquo;t get any news about the Goober case; then, after a bit, they would
+catch him up on some mistake, or get him into some trouble, and fire him.
+</p>
+<p>
+At this meeting, and at later meetings, Peter and the rat-faced man talked
+out every aspect of the Goober case, which was becoming more and more
+complicated, and bigger as a public issue. New people were continually
+being involved, and new problems continually arising; it was more
+fascinating than a game of chess. McGivney had spoken the literal truth
+when he said that the big business interests of American City had put up a
+million dollars to hang Goober and his crowd. At the very beginning there
+had been offered seventeen thousand dollars in rewards for information,
+and these rewards naturally had many claimants. The trouble was that
+people who wanted this money generally had records that wouldn&rsquo;t go well
+before a jury; the women nearly always turned out to be prostitutes, and
+the men to be ex-convicts, forgers, gamblers, or what not. Sometimes they
+didn&rsquo;t tell their past records until the other side unearthed them, and
+then it was necessary to doctor court records, and pull wires all over the
+country.
+</p>
+<p>
+There were a dozen such witnesses as this in the Goober case. They had
+told their stories before the grand jury, and innumerable flaws and
+discrepancies had been discovered, which made more work and trouble for
+Guffey and his lieutenants. Thru a miserable mischance it happened that
+Jim Goober and his wife had been watching the parade from the roof of a
+building a couple of miles away, at the very hour when they were accused
+of having planted the suit-case with the bomb in it. Somebody had taken a
+photograph of the parade from this roof, which showed both Goober and his
+wife looking over, and also a big clock in front of a jewelry store,
+plainly indicating the very minute. Fortunately the prosecution got hold
+of this photograph first; but now the defense had learned of its
+existence, and was trying to get a look at it. The prosecution didn&rsquo;t dare
+destroy it, because its existence could be proven; but they had
+photographed the photograph, and re-photographed that, until they had the
+face of the clock so dim that the time could not be seen. Now the defense
+was trying to get evidence that this trick had been worked.
+</p>
+<p>
+Then there were all the witnesses for the defense. Thru another mischance
+it had happened that half a dozen different people had seen the bomb
+thrown from the roof of Guggenheim&rsquo;s Department Store; which entirely
+contradicted the suit-case theory upon which the prosecution was based. So
+now it was necessary to &ldquo;reach&rdquo; these various witnesses. One perhaps had a
+mortgage on his home which could be bought and foreclosed; another perhaps
+had a wife who wanted to divorce him, and could be persuaded to help get
+him into trouble. Or perhaps he was engaged in an intrigue with some other
+man&rsquo;s wife; or perhaps some woman could be sent to draw him into an
+intrigue.
+</p>
+<p>
+Then again, it appeared that very soon after the explosion some of
+Guffey&rsquo;s men had taken a sledge hammer and smashed the sidewalk, also the
+wall of the building where the explosion had taken place. This was to fit
+in with the theory of the suit-case bomb, and they had taken a number of
+photographs of the damage. But now it transpired that somebody had taken a
+photograph of the spot before this extra damage had been done, and that
+the defense was in possession of this photograph. Who had taken this
+photograph, and how could he be &ldquo;fixed&rdquo;? If Peter could help in such
+matters, he would come out of the Goober case a rich man.
+</p>
+<p>
+Peter would go away from these meetings with McGivney with his head full
+of visions, and would concentrate all his faculties upon the collecting of
+information. He and Jennie and Sadie talked about the case incessantly,
+and Jennie and Sadie would tell freely everything they had heard outside.
+Others would come in&mdash;young McCormick, and Miriam Yankovitch, and
+Miss Nebbins, the secretary to Andrews, and they would tell what they had
+learned and what they suspected, and what the defense was hoping to find
+out. They got hold of a cousin of the man who had taken the photograph on
+the roof; they were working on him, to get him to persuade the
+photographer to tell the truth. Next day Donald Gordon would come in, cast
+down with despair, because it had been learned that one of the most
+valuable witnesses of the defense, a groceryman, had once pleaded guilty
+to selling spoilt cheese! Thus every evening, before he went to sleep,
+Peter would jot down notes, and sew them up inside his jacket, and once a
+week he would go to the meeting with McGivney, and the two would argue and
+bargain over the value of Peter&rsquo;s news.
+</p>
+<p>
+<br /><br />
+</p>
+<hr />
+<p>
+<a name="link2H_4_0023" id="link2H_4_0023"> </a>
+</p>
+<div style="height: 4em;">
+<br /><br /><br /><br />
+</div>
+<h2>
+Section 23
+</h2>
+<p>
+It had become a fascinating game, and Peter would never have tired of it,
+but for the fact that he had to stay all day in the house with little
+Jennie. A honeymoon is all right for a few weeks, but no man can stand it
+forever. Little Jennie apparently never tired of being kissed, and never
+seemed satisfied that Peter thoroughly loved her. A man got thru with his
+love-making after awhile, but a woman, it appeared, never knew how to drop
+the subject; she was always looking before and after, and figuring
+consequences and responsibilities, her duty and her reputation and all the
+rest of it. Which, of course, was a bore.
+</p>
+<p>
+Jennie was unhappy because she was deceiving Sadie; she wanted to tell
+Sadie, and yet somehow it was easier to go on concealing than admit that
+one had concealed. Peter didn&rsquo;t see why Sadie had to be told at all; he
+didn&rsquo;t see why things couldn&rsquo;t stay just as they were, and why he and his
+sweetheart couldn&rsquo;t have some fun now and then, instead of always being
+sentimental, always having agonies over the class war, to say nothing of
+the world war, and the prospects of America becoming involved in it.
+</p>
+<p>
+This did not mean that Peter was hard and feelingless. No, when Peter
+clasped trembling little Jennie in his arms he was very deeply moved; he
+had a real sense of what a gentle and good little soul she was. He would
+have been glad to help her&mdash;but what could he do about it? The
+situation was such that he could not plead with her, he could not try to
+change her; he had to give himself up to all her crazy whims and pretend
+to agree with her. Little Jennie was by her weakness marked for
+destruction, and what good would it do for him to go to destruction along
+with her?
+</p>
+<p>
+Peter understood clearly that there are two kinds of people in the world,
+those who eat, and those who are eaten; and it was his intention to stay
+among the former, group. Peter had come in his twenty years of life to a
+definite understanding of the things called &ldquo;ideas&rdquo; and &ldquo;causes&rdquo; and
+&ldquo;religions.&rdquo; They were bait to catch suckers; and there is a continual
+competition between the suckers, who of course don&rsquo;t want to be caught,
+and those people of superior wits who want to catch them, and therefore
+are continually inventing new and more plausible and alluring kinds of
+bait. Peter had by now heard enough of the jargon of the &ldquo;comrades&rdquo; to
+realize that theirs was an especially effective kind; and here was poor
+little Jennie, stuck fast on the hook, and what could Peter do about it?
+</p>
+<p>
+Yet, this was Peter&rsquo;s first love, and when he was deeply thrilled, he
+understood the truth of Guffey&rsquo;s saying that a man in love wants to tell
+the truth. Peter would have the impulse to say to her: &ldquo;Oh, drop all that
+preaching, and give yourself a rest! Let&rsquo;s you and me enjoy life a bit.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+Yes, it would be all he could do to keep from saying this&mdash;despite
+the fact that he knew it would ruin everything. Once little Jennie
+appeared in a new silk dress, brought to her by one of the rich ladies
+whose heart was touched by her dowdy appearance. It was of soft grey silk&mdash;cheap
+silk, but fresh and new, and Peter had never had anything so fine in his
+arms before. It matched Jennie&rsquo;s grey eyes, and its freshness gave her a
+pink glow; or was it that Peter admired her, and loved her more, and so
+brought the blood to her cheeks? Peter had an impulse to take her out and
+show her off, and he pressed his face into the soft folds of the dress and
+whispered, &ldquo;Say kid, some day you an me got to cut all this hard luck
+business for a bit!&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+He felt little Jennie stiffen, and draw away from him; so quickly he had
+to set to work to patch up the damage. &ldquo;I want you to get well,&rdquo; he
+pleaded. &ldquo;You&rsquo;re so good to everybody&mdash;you treat everybody well but
+yourself!&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+It had been something in his tone rather than his actual words that had
+frightened the girl. &ldquo;Oh Peter!&rdquo; she cried. &ldquo;What does it matter about me,
+or about any other one person, when millions of young men are being shot
+to fragments, and millions of women and children are starving to death!&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+So there they were, fighting the war again; Peter had to take up her
+burden, be a hero, and a martyr, and a &ldquo;Red.&rdquo; That same afternoon, as fate
+willed it, three &ldquo;wobblies&rdquo; out of a job came to call; and oh, how tired
+Peter was of these wandering agitators&mdash;insufferable &ldquo;grouches!&rdquo;
+ Peter would want to say: &ldquo;Oh, cut it out! What you call your &lsquo;cause&rsquo; is
+nothing but your scheme to work with your tongues instead of with a pick
+and a shovel.&rdquo; And this would start an imaginary quarrel in Peter&rsquo;s mind.
+He would hear one of the fellows demanding, &ldquo;How much pick and shovel work
+you ever done?&rdquo; Another saying, &ldquo;Looks to me like you been finding the
+easy jobs wherever you go!&rdquo; The fact that this was true did not make
+Peter&rsquo;s irritation any less, did not make it easier for him to meet with
+Comrade Smith, and Brother Jones, and Fellow-worker Brown just out of
+jail, and listen to their hard-luck stories, and watch them take from the
+table food that Peter wanted, and&mdash;the bitterest pill of all&mdash;let
+them think that they were fooling him with their patter!
+</p>
+<p>
+The time came when Peter wasn&rsquo;t able to stand it any longer. Shut up in
+the house all day, he was becoming as irritable as a chained dog. Unless
+he could get out in the world again, he would surely give himself away. He
+pleaded that the doctors had warned him that his health would not stand
+indoor life; he must get some fresh air. So he got away by himself, and
+after that he found things much easier. He could spend a little of his
+money; he could find a quiet corner in a restaurant and get himself a
+beefsteak, and eat all he wanted of it, without feeling the eyes of any
+&ldquo;comrades&rdquo; resting upon him reprovingly. Peter had lived in a jail, and in
+an orphan asylum, and in the home of Shoemaker Smithers, but nowhere had
+he fared so meagerly as in the home of the Todd sisters, who were
+contributing nearly everything they owned to the Goober defense, and to
+the &ldquo;Clarion,&rdquo; the Socialist paper of American City.
+</p>
+<p>
+<br /><br />
+</p>
+<hr />
+<p>
+<a name="link2H_4_0024" id="link2H_4_0024"> </a>
+</p>
+<div style="height: 4em;">
+<br /><br /><br /><br />
+</div>
+<h2>
+Section 24
+</h2>
+<p>
+Peter went to see Andrews, the lawyer, and asked for a job; he wanted to
+be active in the case, he said, so he was set to work in the offices of
+the Defense Committee, where he heard people talking about the case all
+day, and he could pick up no end of valuable tips. He made himself
+agreeable and gained friends; before long he was intimate with one of the
+best witnesses of the defense, and discovered that this man had once been
+named as co-respondent in a divorce case. Peter found out the name of the
+woman, and Guffey set to work to bring her to American City. The job was
+to be done cleverly, without the woman&rsquo;s even knowing that she was being
+used. She would have a little holiday, and the spell of old love would
+reassert itself, and Guffey would have a half dozen men to spring the trap&mdash;and
+there would be a star witness of the Goober defense clean down and out!
+&ldquo;There&rsquo;s always something you can get them on!&rdquo; said McGivney, and
+cheerfully paid Peter Gudge five hundred dollars for the information he
+had brought.
+</p>
+<p>
+Peter would have been wildly happy, but just at this moment a dreadful
+calamity befell him. Jennie had been talking about marriage more and more,
+and now she revealed to him a reason which made marriage imperative. She
+revealed it with downcast eyes, with blushes and trembling; and Peter was
+so overcome with consternation that he could not play the part that was
+expected of him. Hitherto in these love crises he had caught Jennie in his
+arms and comforted her; but now for a moment he let her see his real
+emotions.
+</p>
+<p>
+Jennie promptly had a fit. What was the matter with him? Didn&rsquo;t he mean to
+marry her, as he had promised? Surely he must realize now that they could
+no longer delay! And Peter, who was not familiar with the symptoms of
+hysterics, lost his head completely and could think of nothing to do but
+rush out of the house and slam the door.
+</p>
+<p>
+The more he considered it, the more clearly he realized that he was in the
+devil of a predicament. As a servant of the Traction Trust, he had taken
+it for granted that he was immune to all legal penalties and obligations;
+but here, he had a feeling, was a trouble from which the powerful ones of
+the city would be unable to shield their agent. Were they able to arrange
+it so that one could marry a girl, and then get out of it when one&rsquo;s job
+was done?
+</p>
+<p>
+Peter was so uneasy that he had to call up the office of Guffey and get
+hold of McGivney. This was dangerous, because the prosecution was tapping
+telephone wires, and they feared the defense might be doing the same. But
+Peter took a chance; he told McGivney to come and meet him at the usual
+place; and there they argued the matter out, and Peter&rsquo;s worst fears were
+confirmed. When he put the proposition up to McGivney, the rat-faced man
+guffawed in his face. He found it so funny that he did not stop laughing
+until he saw that he was putting his spy into a rage.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;What&rsquo;s the joke?&rdquo; demanded Peter. &ldquo;If I&rsquo;m ruined, where&rsquo;ll you get any
+more information?&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;But, my God!&rdquo; said McGivney. &ldquo;What did you have to go and get that kind
+of a girl for?&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;I had to take what I could,&rdquo; answered Peter. &ldquo;Besides, they&rsquo;re all alike&mdash;they
+get into trouble, and you can&rsquo;t help it.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Sure, you can help it!&rdquo; said McGivney. &ldquo;Why didn&rsquo;t you ask long ago? Now
+if you&rsquo;ve got yourself tied up with a marrying proposition, it&rsquo;s your own
+lookout; you can&rsquo;t put it off on me.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+They argued back and forth. The rat-faced man was positive that there was
+no way Peter could pretend to marry Jennie and not have the marriage
+count. He might get himself into no end of trouble and certainly he would
+be ruined as a spy. What he must do was to pay the girl some money and
+send her somewhere to get fixed up. McGivney would find out the name of a
+doctor to do the job.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Yes, but what excuse can I give her?&rdquo; cried Peter. &ldquo;I mean, why I don&rsquo;t
+marry her!&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Make something up,&rdquo; said McGivney. &ldquo;Why not have a wife already?&rdquo; Then,
+seeing Peter&rsquo;s look of dismay: &ldquo;Sure, you can fix that. I&rsquo;ll get you one,
+if you need her. But you won&rsquo;t have to take that trouble&mdash;just tell
+your girl a hard luck story. You&rsquo;ve got a wife, you thought you could get
+free from her, but now you find you can&rsquo;t; your wife&rsquo;s got wind of what
+you&rsquo;re doing here, and she&rsquo;s trying to blackmail you. Fix it up so your
+girl can&rsquo;t do anything on account of hurting the Goober defense. If she&rsquo;s
+really sincere about it, she won&rsquo;t disgrace you; maybe she won&rsquo;t even tell
+her sister.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+Peter hated to do anything like that. He had a vision of little Jennie
+lying on the sofa in hysterics as he had left her, and he dreaded the long
+emotional scene that would be necessary. However, it seemed that he must
+go thru with it; there was no better way that he could think of. Also, he
+must be quick, because in a couple of hours Sadie would be coming home
+from work, and it might be too late.
+</p>
+<p>
+<br /><br />
+</p>
+<hr />
+<p>
+<a name="link2H_4_0025" id="link2H_4_0025"> </a>
+</p>
+<div style="height: 4em;">
+<br /><br /><br /><br />
+</div>
+<h2>
+Section 25
+</h2>
+<p>
+Peter hurried back to the Todd home, and there was white-faced little
+Jennie lying on the bed, still sobbing. One would think she might have
+used up her surplus stock of emotions; but no, there is never any limit to
+the emotions a woman can pour out. As soon as Peter had got fairly started
+on the humiliating confession that he had a wife, little Jennie sprang up
+from the bed with a terrified shriek, and confronted him with a face like
+the ghost of an escaped lunatic. Peter tried to explain that it wasn&rsquo;t his
+fault, he had really expected to be free any day. But Jennie only clasped
+her hands to her forehead and screamed: &ldquo;You have deceived me! You have
+betrayed me!&rdquo; It was just like a scene in the movies, the bored little
+devil inside Peter was whispering.
+</p>
+<p>
+He tried to take her hand and reason with her, but she sprang away from
+him, she rushed to the other side of the room and stood there, staring at
+him as if she were some wild thing that he had in a corner and was
+threatening to kill. She made so much noise that he was afraid that she
+would bring the neighbors in; he had to point out to her that if this
+matter became public he would be ruined forever as a witness, and thus she
+might be the means of sending Jim Goober to the gallows.
+</p>
+<p>
+Thereupon Jennie fell silent, and it was possible for Peter to get in a
+word. He told her of the intrigues against him; the other side had sent
+somebody to him and offered him ten thousand dollars if he would sell out
+the Goober defense. Now, since he had refused, they were trying to
+blackmail him, using his wife. They had somehow come to suspect that he
+was involved in a love affair, and this was to be the means of ruining
+him.
+</p>
+<p>
+Jennie still would not let Peter touch, her, but she consented to sit down
+quietly in a chair, and figure out what they were going to do. Whatever
+happened, she said, they must do no harm to the Goober case. Peter had
+done her a monstrous wrong in keeping the truth from her, but she would
+suffer the penalty, whatever it might be; she would never involve him.
+</p>
+<p>
+Peter started to explain; perhaps it wasn&rsquo;t so serious as she feared. He
+had been thinking things over; he knew where Pericles Priam, his old
+employer, was living, and Pericles was rich now, and Peter felt sure that
+he could borrow two hundred dollars, and there were places where little
+Jennie could go&mdash;there were ways to get out of this trouble&mdash;
+</p>
+<p>
+But little Jennie stopped him. She was only a child in some ways, but in
+others she was a mature woman. She had strange fixed ideas, and when you
+ran into them it was like running into a stone wall. She would not hear of
+the idea Peter suggested; it would be murder.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Nonsense,&rdquo; said Peter, echoing McGivney. &ldquo;It&rsquo;s nothing; everybody does
+it.&rdquo; But Jennie was apparently not listening. She sat staring with her
+wild, terrified eyes, and pulling at her dress with her fingers. Peter got
+to watching these fingers, and they got on his nerves. They behaved like
+insane fingers; they manifested all the emotions which the rest of little
+Jennie was choking back and repressing.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;If you would only not take it so seriously!&rdquo; Peter pleaded. &ldquo;It&rsquo;s a
+miserable accident, but it&rsquo;s happened, and now we&rsquo;ve got to make the best
+of it. Some day I&rsquo;ll get free; some day I&rsquo;ll marry you.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Stop, Peter!&rdquo; the girl whispered, in her tense voice. &ldquo;I don&rsquo;t want to
+talk to you any more, if that&rsquo;s all you have to say. I don&rsquo;t know that I&rsquo;d
+be willing to marry you&mdash;now that I know you could deceive me&mdash;that
+you could go on deceiving me day after day for months.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+Peter thought she was going to break out into hysterics again, and he was
+frightened. He tried to plead with her, but suddenly she sprang up. &ldquo;Go
+away!&rdquo; she exclaimed. &ldquo;Please go away and let me alone. I&rsquo;ll think it over
+and decide what to do myself. Whatever I do, I won&rsquo;t disgrace you, so
+leave me alone, go quickly!&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+<br /><br />
+</p>
+<hr />
+<p>
+<a name="link2H_4_0026" id="link2H_4_0026"> </a>
+</p>
+<div style="height: 4em;">
+<br /><br /><br /><br />
+</div>
+<h2>
+Section 26
+</h2>
+<p>
+She drove him out of the house, and Peter went, though with many
+misgivings. He wandered about the streets, not knowing what to do with
+himself, looking back over the blunders he had made and tormenting himself
+with that most tormenting of all thoughts: how different my life might
+have been, if only I had had sense enough to do this, or not to do that!
+Dinner time came, and Peter blew himself to a square meal, but even that
+did not comfort him entirely. He pictured Sadie coming home at this hour.
+Was Jennie telling her or not?
+</p>
+<p>
+There was a big mass meeting called by the Goober Defense Committee that
+evening, and Peter attended, and it proved to be the worst thing he could
+have done. His mind was in no condition to encounter the fierce passions
+of this crowded assemblage. Peter had the picture of himself being exposed
+and denounced; he wasn&rsquo;t sure yet that it mightn&rsquo;t happen to him. And here
+was this meeting&mdash;thousands of workingmen, horny handed blacksmiths,
+longshoremen with shoulders like barns and truckmen with fists like
+battering rams, long-haired radicals of a hundred dangerous varieties,
+women who waved red handkerchiefs and shrieked until to Peter they seemed
+like gorgons with snakes instead of hair.
+</p>
+<p>
+Such were the mob-frenzies engendered by the Goober case; and Peter knew,
+of course, that to all these people he was a traitor, a poisonous worm, a
+snake in the grass. If ever they were to find out what he was doing&mdash;if
+for instance, someone were to rise up and expose him to this crowd&mdash;they
+would seize him and tear him to pieces. And maybe, right now, little
+Jennie was telling Sadie; and Sadie would tell Andrews, and Andrews would
+become suspicious, and set spies on Peter Gudge! Maybe they had spies on
+him already, and knew of his meetings with McGivney!
+</p>
+<p>
+Haunted by such terrors, Peter had to listen to the tirades of Donald
+Gordon, of John Durand, and of Sorensen, the longshoremen&rsquo;s leader. He had
+to listen to exposure after exposure of the tricks which Guffey had
+played; he had to hear the district attorney of the county denounced as a
+suborner of perjury, and his agents as blackmailers and forgers. Peter
+couldn&rsquo;t understand why such things should be permitted&mdash;why these
+speakers were not all clapped into jail. But instead, he had to sit there
+and listen; he even had to applaud and pretend to approve! All the other
+secret operatives of the Traction Trust and of the district attorney&rsquo;s
+office had to listen and pretend to approve! In the hall Peter had met
+Miriam Yankovich, and was sitting next to her. &ldquo;Look,&rdquo; she said, &ldquo;there&rsquo;s
+a couple of dicks over there. Look at the mugs on them!&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Which?&rdquo; said Peter.
+</p>
+<p>
+And she answered: &ldquo;That fellow that looks like a bruiser, and that one
+next to him, with the face of a rat.&rdquo; Peter looked, and saw that it was
+McGivney; and McGivney looked at Peter, but gave no sign.
+</p>
+<p>
+The meeting lasted until nearly midnight. It subscribed several thousand
+dollars to the Goober defense fund, and adopted ferocious resolutions
+which it ordered printed and sent to every local of every labor union in
+the country. Peter got out before it was over, because he could no longer
+stand the strain of his own fears and anxieties. He pushed his way thru
+the crowd, and in the lobby he ran into Pat McCormick, the I. W. W.
+leader.
+</p>
+<p>
+There was more excitement in this boy&rsquo;s grim face than Peter had ever seen
+there before. Peter thought it was the meeting, but the other rushed up to
+him, exclaiming: &ldquo;Have you heard the news?&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;What news?&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Little Jennie Todd has killed herself!&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;My God!&rdquo; gasped Peter, starting back.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Ada Ruth just told me. Sadie found a note when she got home. Jennie had
+left&mdash;she was going to drown herself.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;But what&mdash;why?&rdquo; cried Peter, in horror.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;She was suffering so, her health was so wretched, she begs Sadie not to
+look for her body, not to make a fuss&mdash;they&rsquo;ll never find her.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+And horrified and stunned as Peter was, there was something inside him
+that drew a deep breath of relief. Little Jennie had kept her promise!
+Peter was, safe!
+</p>
+<p>
+<br /><br />
+</p>
+<hr />
+<p>
+<a name="link2H_4_0027" id="link2H_4_0027"> </a>
+</p>
+<div style="height: 4em;">
+<br /><br /><br /><br />
+</div>
+<h2>
+Section 27
+</h2>
+<p>
+Yes, Peter was safe, but it had been a close call, and he still had
+painful scenes to play his part in. He had to go back to the Todd home and
+meet the frantic Sadie, and weep and be horrified with the rest of them.
+It would have been suspicious if he had not done this; the &ldquo;comrades&rdquo;
+ would never have forgiven him. Then to his dismay, he found that Sadie had
+somehow come to a positive conviction as to Jennie&rsquo;s trouble. She penned
+Peter up in a corner and accused him of being responsible; and there was
+poor Peter, protesting vehemently that he was innocent, and wishing that
+the floor would open up and swallow him.
+</p>
+<p>
+In the midst of his protestations a clever scheme occurred to him. He
+lowered his voice in shame. There was a man, a young man, who used to come
+to see Jennie off and on. &ldquo;Jennie asked me not to tell.&rdquo; Peter hesitated a
+moment, and added his master-stroke. &ldquo;Jennie explained to me that she was
+a free-lover; she told me all about free love. I told her I didn&rsquo;t believe
+in it, but you know, Sadie, when Jennie believed in anything, she would
+stand by it and act on it. So I felt certain it wouldn&rsquo;t do any good for
+me to butt in.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+Sadie almost went out of her mind at this. She glared at Peter.
+&ldquo;Slanderer! Devil!&rdquo; she cried. &ldquo;Who was this man?&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+Peter answered, &ldquo;He went by the name of Ned. That&rsquo;s what Jennie called
+him. It wasn&rsquo;t my business to pin her down about him.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;It wasn&rsquo;t your business to look out for an innocent child?&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Jennie herself said she wasn&rsquo;t an innocent child, she knew exactly what
+she was doing&mdash;all Socialists did it.&rdquo; And to this parting shot he
+added that he hadn&rsquo;t thought it was decent, when he was a guest in a home,
+to spy on the morals of the people in it. When Sadie persisted in doubting
+him, and even in calling him names, he took the easiest way out of the
+difficulty&mdash;fell into a rage and stormed out of the house.
+</p>
+<p>
+Peter felt pretty certain that Sadie would not spread the story very far;
+it was too disgraceful to her sister and to herself; and maybe when she
+had thought it over she might come to believe Peter&rsquo;s story; maybe she
+herself was a &ldquo;free lover.&rdquo; McGivney had certainly said that all
+Socialists were, and he had been studying them a lot. Anyhow, Sadie would
+have to think first of the Goober case, just as little Jennie had done.
+Peter had them there all right, and realized that he could afford to be
+forgiving, so he went to the telephone and called up Sadie and said: &ldquo;I
+want you to know that I&rsquo;m not going to say anything about this story; it
+won&rsquo;t become known except thru you.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+There were half a dozen people whom Sadie must have told. Miss Nebbins was
+icy-cold to Peter the next time he came in to see Mr. Andrews; also Miriam
+Yankovich lost her former cordiality, and several other women treated him
+with studied reserve. But the only person who spoke about the matter was
+Pat McCormick, the I. W. W. boy who had given Peter the news of little
+Jennie&rsquo;s suicide. Perhaps Peter hadn&rsquo;t been able to act satisfactorily on
+that occasion; or perhaps the young fellow had observed something for
+himself, some love-glances between Peter and Jennie. Peter had never felt
+comfortable in the presence of this silent Irish boy, whose dark eyes
+would roam from one person to another in the room, and seemed to be
+probing your most secret thoughts.
+</p>
+<p>
+Now Peter&rsquo;s worst fears were justified. &ldquo;Mac&rdquo; got him off in a corner, and
+put his fist under his nose, and told him that he was &ldquo;a dirty hound,&rdquo; and
+if it hadn&rsquo;t been for the Goober case, he, &ldquo;Mac,&rdquo; would kill him without a
+moment&rsquo;s concern.
+</p>
+<p>
+And Peter did not dare open his mouth; the look on the Irishman&rsquo;s face was
+so fierce that he was really afraid for his life. God, what a hateful lot
+these Reds were! And now here was Peter with the worst one of all against
+him! From now on his life would be in danger from this maniac Irishman!
+Peter hated him&mdash;so heartily and genuinely that it served to divert
+his thoughts from little Jennie, and to make him regard himself as a
+victim.
+</p>
+<p>
+Yes, in the midnight hours when Jennie&rsquo;s gentle little face haunted him
+and his conscience attacked him, Peter looked back upon the tangled web of
+events, and saw quite clearly how inevitable this tragedy had been, how
+naturally it had grown out of circumstances beyond his control. The
+fearful labor struggle in American City was surely not Peter&rsquo;s fault; nor
+was it his fault that he had been drawn into it, and forced to act first
+as an unwilling witness, and then as a secret agent. Peter read the
+American City &ldquo;Times&rdquo; every morning, and knew that the cause of Goober was
+the cause of anarchy and riot, while the cause of the district attorney
+and of Guffey&rsquo;s secret service was the cause of law and order. Peter was
+doing his best in this great cause, he was following the instructions of
+those above him, and how could he be blamed because one poor weakling of a
+girl had got in the way of the great chariot of the law?
+</p>
+<p>
+Peter knew that it wasn&rsquo;t his fault; and yet grief and terror gnawed at
+him. For one thing, he missed little Jennie, he missed her by day and he
+missed her by night. He missed her gentle voice, her fluffy soft hair, her
+body in his empty arms. She was his first love, and she was gone, and it
+is human weakness to appreciate things most when they have been lost.
+</p>
+<p>
+Peter aspired to be a strong man, a &ldquo;he-man,&rdquo; according to the slang that
+was coming into fashion; he now tried to live up to that role. He didn&rsquo;t
+want to go mooning about over this accident; yet Jennie&rsquo;s face stayed with
+him&mdash;sometimes wild, as he had seen it at their last meeting,
+sometimes gentle and reproachful. Peter would remember how good she had
+been, how tender, how never-failing in instant response to an advance of
+love on his part. Where would he ever find another girl like that?
+</p>
+<p>
+Another thing troubled him especially&mdash;a strange, inexplicable thing,
+for which Peter had no words, and about which he found himself frequently
+thinking. This weak, frail slip of a girl had deliberately given her life
+for her convictions; she had died, in order that he might be saved as a
+witness for the Goobers! Of course Peter had known all along that little
+Jennie was doomed, that she was throwing herself away, that nothing could
+save her. But somehow, it does frighten the strongest heart when people
+are so fanatical as to throw away their very lives for a cause. Peter
+found himself regarding the ideas of these Reds from a new angle; before
+this they had been just a bunch of &ldquo;nuts,&rdquo; but now they seemed to him
+creatures of monstrous deformity, products of the devil, or of a God gone
+insane.
+</p>
+<p>
+<br /><br />
+</p>
+<hr />
+<p>
+<a name="link2H_4_0028" id="link2H_4_0028"> </a>
+</p>
+<div style="height: 4em;">
+<br /><br /><br /><br />
+</div>
+<h2>
+Section 28
+</h2>
+<p>
+There was only one person whom Peter could take into his confidence, and
+that was McGivney. Peter could not conceal from McGivney the fact that he
+was troubled over his bereavement; and so McGivney took him in hand and
+gave him a &ldquo;jacking up.&rdquo; It was dangerous work, this of holding down the
+Reds; dangerous, because their doctrines were so insidious, they were so
+devilishly cunning in their working upon people&rsquo;s minds. McGivney had seen
+more than one fellow start fooling with their ideas and turn into one
+himself. Peter must guard against that danger.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;It ain&rsquo;t that,&rdquo; Peter explained. &ldquo;It ain&rsquo;t their ideas. It&rsquo;s just that I
+was soft on that kid.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Well, it comes to the same thing,&rdquo; said McGivney. &ldquo;You get sorry for
+them, and the first thing you know, you&rsquo;re listening to their arguments.
+Now, Peter, you&rsquo;re one of the best men I&rsquo;ve got on this case&mdash;and
+that&rsquo;s saying a good deal, because I&rsquo;ve got charge of seventeen.&rdquo; The
+rat-faced man was watching Peter, and saw Peter flush with pleasure. Yes,
+he continued, Peter had a future before him, he would make all kinds of
+money, he would be given responsibility, a permanent position. But he
+might throw it all away if he got to fooling with these Red doctrines. And
+also, he ought to understand, he could never fool McGivney; because
+McGivney had spies on him!
+</p>
+<p>
+So Peter clenched his hands and braced himself up. Peter was a real
+&ldquo;he-man,&rdquo; and wasn&rsquo;t going to waste himself. &ldquo;It&rsquo;s just that I can&rsquo;t help
+missing the girl!&rdquo; he explained; to which the other answered: &ldquo;Well,
+that&rsquo;s only natural. What you want to do is to get yourself another one.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+Peter went on with his work in the office of the Goober Defense Committee.
+The time for the trial had come, and the struggle between the two giants
+had reached its climax. The district attorney, who was prosecuting the
+case, and who was expecting to become governor of the state on the
+strength of it, had the backing of half a dozen of the shrewdest lawyers
+in the city, their expenses being paid by the big business men. A small
+army of detectives were at work, and the court where the trial took place
+was swarming with spies and agents. Every one of the hundreds of
+prospective jurors had been investigated and card-cataloged, his every
+weakness and every prejudice recorded; not merely had his psychology been
+studied, but his financial status, and that of his relatives and friends.
+Peter had met half a dozen other agents beside McGivney, men who had come
+to question him about this or that detail; and from the conversation of
+these men he got glimpses of the endless ramifications of the case. It
+seemed to him that the whole of American City had been hired to help send
+Jim Goober to the gallows.
+</p>
+<p>
+Peter was now getting fifty dollars a week and expenses, in addition to
+special tips for valuable bits of news. Hardly a day passed that he didn&rsquo;t
+get wind of some important development, and every night he would have to
+communicate with McGivney. The prosecution had a secret office, where
+there was a telephone operator on duty, and couriers traveling to the
+district attorney&rsquo;s office and to Guffey&rsquo;s office&mdash;all this to
+forestall telephone tapping. Peter would go from the headquarters of the
+Goober Defense Committee to a telephone-booth in some hotel, and there he
+would give the secret number, and then his own number, which was six
+forty-two. Everybody concerned was known by numbers, the principal people,
+both of the prosecution and of the defense; the name &ldquo;Goober&rdquo; was never
+spoken over the phone.
+</p>
+<p>
+After the trial had got started it was hard to get anybody to work in the
+office of the Defense Committee&mdash;everybody wanted to be in court!
+Someone would come in every few minutes, with the latest reports of
+sensational developments. The prosecution had succeeded in making away
+with the police court records, proving the conviction of its star witness
+of having kept a brothel for negroes. The prosecution had introduced
+various articles alleged to have been found on the street by the police
+after the explosion; one was a spring, supposed to have been part of a
+bomb&mdash;but it turned out to be a part of a telephone! Also they had
+introduced parts of a clock&mdash;but it appeared that in their super-zeal
+they had introduced the parts of <i>two</i> clocks! There was some
+excitement like this every day.
+</p>
+<p>
+<br /><br />
+</p>
+<hr />
+<p>
+<a name="link2H_4_0029" id="link2H_4_0029"> </a>
+</p>
+<div style="height: 4em;">
+<br /><br /><br /><br />
+</div>
+<h2>
+Section 29
+</h2>
+<p>
+The time came when the prosecution closed its case, and Peter was summoned
+to the office of Andrews, to be coached in his part as a witness. He would
+be wanted in two or three days, the lawyers told him.
+</p>
+<p>
+Now Peter had never intended to appear as a witness; he had been fooling
+the defense all this time&mdash;&ldquo;stringing them along,&rdquo; as he phrased it,
+so as to keep in favor with them to the end. Meantime he had been figuring
+out how to justify his final refusal. Peter was eating his lunch when this
+plan occurred to him, and he was so much excited that he swallowed a piece
+of pie the wrong way, and had to jump up and run out of the lunch-room. It
+was his first stroke of genius; hitherto it was McGivney who had thought
+these things out, but now Peter was on the way to becoming his own boss!
+Why should he go on taking orders, when he had such brains of his own? He
+took the plan to McGivney, and McGivney called it a &ldquo;peach,&rdquo; and Peter was
+so proud he asked for a raise, and got it.
+</p>
+<p>
+This plan had the double advantage that not merely would it save Peter&rsquo;s
+prestige and reputation, among the Reds, it would ruin McCormick, who was
+one of the hardest workers for the defense, and one of the most dangerous
+Reds in American City, as well as being a personal enemy of Peter&rsquo;s.
+McGivney pulled some of his secret wires, and the American City &ldquo;Times,&rdquo;
+ in the course of its accounts of the case, mentioned a rumor that the
+defense proposed to put on the stand a man who claimed to have been
+tortured in the city jail, in an effort to make him give false testimony
+against Goober; the prosecution had investigated this man&rsquo;s record and
+discovered that only recently he had seduced a young girl, and she had
+killed herself because of his refusal to marry her. Peter took this copy
+of the American City &ldquo;Times&rdquo; to the office of David Andrews, and insisted
+upon seeing the lawyer before he went to court; he laid the item on the
+desk, and declared that there was his finish as a witness in the Goober
+case. &ldquo;It&rsquo;s a cowardly, dirty lie!&rdquo; he declared. &ldquo;And the man responsible
+for circulating it is Pat McCormick.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+Such are the burdens that fall upon the shoulders of lawyers in
+hard-fought criminal trials! Poor Andrews did his best to patch things up;
+he pleaded with Peter&mdash;if the story was false, Peter ought to be glad
+of a chance to answer his slanderers. The defense would put witnesses on
+the stand to deny it. They would produce Sadie Todd to deny it.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;But Sadie told me she suspected me!&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Yes,&rdquo; said Andrews, &ldquo;but she told me recently she wasn&rsquo;t sure.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Much good that&rsquo;ll do me!&rdquo; retorted Peter. &ldquo;They&rsquo;ll ask me if anybody ever
+accused me, and who, and I&rsquo;ll have to say McCormick, and if they put him
+on the stand, will he deny that he accused me?&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+Peter flew into a rage against McCormick; a fine sort of radical he was,
+pretending to be devoted to the cause, and having no better sense than to
+repeat a cruel slander against a comrade! Here Peter had been working on
+this case for nearly six months, working for barely enough to keep body
+and soul together, and now they expected him to go on the and have a story
+like that brought out in the papers, and have the prosecution hiring
+witnesses to prove him a villain. &ldquo;No, sir!&rdquo; said Peter. &ldquo;I&rsquo;m thru with
+this case right now. You put McCormick on the witness stand and let him
+save Goober&rsquo;s life. You can&rsquo;t use me, I&rsquo;m out!&rdquo; And shutting his ears to
+the lawyer&rsquo;s pleading, he stormed out of the office, and over to the
+office of the Goober Defense Committee, where he repeated the same scene.
+</p>
+<p>
+<br /><br />
+</p>
+<hr />
+<p>
+<a name="link2H_4_0030" id="link2H_4_0030"> </a>
+</p>
+<div style="height: 4em;">
+<br /><br /><br /><br />
+</div>
+<h2>
+Section 30
+</h2>
+<p>
+Thus Peter was done with the Goober case, and mighty glad of it he was. He
+was tired of the strain, he needed a rest and a little pleasure. He had
+his pockets stuffed with money, and a good fat bank account, and proposed
+to take things easy for the first time in his hard and lonely life.
+</p>
+<p>
+The opportunity was at hand: for he had taken McGivney&rsquo;s advise and got
+himself another girl. It was a little romance, very worldly and
+delightful. To understand it, you must know that in the judicial procedure
+of American City they used both men and women jurors; and because busy men
+of affairs did not want to waste their time in the jury-box, nor to have
+the time of their clerks and workingmen wasted, there had gradually grown
+up a class of men and women who made their living by working as jurors.
+They hung around the courthouse and were summoned on panel after panel,
+being paid six dollars a day, with numerous opportunities to make money on
+the side if they were clever.
+</p>
+<p>
+Among this group of professional jurors, there was the keenest competition
+to get into the jury-box of the Goober case. It was to be a long and
+hard-fought case, there would be a good deal of prestige attached to it,
+and also there were numerous sums of money floating round. Anybody who got
+in, and who voted right, might be sure of an income for life, to say
+nothing of a life-job as a juror if he wanted it.
+</p>
+<p>
+Peter happened to be in court while the talesmen were being questioned. A
+very charming and petite brunette&mdash;what Peter described as a &ldquo;swell
+dresser&rdquo;&mdash;was on the stand, and was cleverly trying to satisfy both
+sides. She knew nothing about the case, she had never read anything about
+it, she knew nothing and cared nothing about social problems; so she was
+accepted by the prosecution. But then the defense took her in hand, and it
+appeared that once upon a time she had been so indiscreet as to declare to
+somebody her conviction that all labor leaders ought to be stood up
+against the wall and filled with lead; so she was challenged by the
+defense, and very much chagrined she came down from the stand, and took a
+seat in the courtroom next to Peter. He saw a trace of tears in her eyes,
+and realizing her disappointment, ventured a word of sympathy. The
+acquaintance grew, and they went out to lunch together.
+</p>
+<p>
+Mrs. James was her name, and she was a widow, a grass widow as she archly
+mentioned. She was quick and lively, with brilliant white teeth, and
+cheeks with the glow of health in them; this glow came out of a little
+bottle, but Peter never guessed it. Peter had got himself a good suit of
+clothes now, and made bold to spend some money on the lunch. As it
+happened, both he and Mrs. James were thru with the Goober case; both were
+tired and wanted a change, and Peter, blushing shyly, suggested that a
+sojourn at the beach might be fun. Mrs. James agreed immediately, and the
+matter was arranged.
+</p>
+<p>
+Peter had seen enough of the detective business by this time to know what
+you can safely do, and what you had better not do. He didn&rsquo;t travel with
+his grass widow, he didn&rsquo;t pay her car-fare, nor do anything else to
+constitute her a &ldquo;white slave.&rdquo; He simply went to the beach and engaged
+himself a comfortable apartment; and next day, strolling on the board
+walk, he happened to meet the widow.
+</p>
+<p>
+So for a couple of months Peter and Mrs. James set up housekeeping
+together. It was a wonderful experience for the former, because Mrs. James
+was what is called a &ldquo;lady,&rdquo; she had rich relatives, and took pains to let
+Peter know that she had lived in luxury before her husband had run away to
+Paris with a tight-rope walker. She taught Peter all those worldly arts
+which one misses when one is brought up in an orphan asylum, and on the
+road with a patent medicine vender. Tactfully, and without hurting his
+feelings, she taught him how to hold a knife and fork, and what color tie
+to select. At the same time she managed to conduct a propaganda which
+caused him to regard himself as the most favored of mankind; he was
+overwhelmed with gratitude for every single kiss from the lips of his
+grass widow. Of course he could not expect such extraordinary favors of
+fortune without paying for them; he had learned by now that there was no
+such thing as &ldquo;free love.&rdquo; So he paid, hand over fist; he not only paid
+all the expenses of the unregistered honeymoon, he bought numerous
+expensive presents at the lady&rsquo;s tactful suggestion. She was always so
+vivacious and affectionate when Peter had given her a present! Peter lived
+in a kind of dream, his money seemed to go out of his pockets without his
+having to touch it.
+</p>
+<p>
+Meantime great events were rolling by, unheeded by Peter and his grass
+widow who never read the newspapers. For one thing Jim Goober was
+convicted and sentenced to die on the gallows, and Jim Goober&rsquo;s associate,
+Biddle, was found guilty, and sentenced to prison for life. Also, America
+entered the war, and a wave of patriotic excitement swept like a prairie
+fire over the country. Peter could not help hearing about this; his
+attention was attracted to one aspect of the matter&mdash;Congress was
+about to pass a conscription act. And Peter was within the age limit;
+Peter would almost certainly be drafted into the army!
+</p>
+<p>
+No terror that he had ever felt in his life was equal to this terror. He
+had tried to forget the horrible pictures of battle and slaughter, of
+machine-guns and hand-grenades and torpedoes and poison gas, with which
+little Jennie had filled his imagination; but now these imaginings came
+crowding back upon him, now for the first time they concerned him. From
+that time on his honeymoon was spoiled. Peter and his grass widow were
+like a party of picnickers who are far away in the wilderness, and see a
+black thunder-storm come rolling up the sky!
+</p>
+<p>
+Also, Peter&rsquo;s bank account was running low. Peter had had no conception
+how much money you could spend on a grass widow who is a &ldquo;swell dresser&rdquo;
+ and understands what is &ldquo;proper.&rdquo; He was overwhelmed with embarrassment;
+he put off telling Mrs. James until the last moment&mdash;in fact, until
+he wasn&rsquo;t quite sure whether he had enough money in bank to meet the last
+check he had given to the landlady. Then, realizing that the game was up,
+he told.
+</p>
+<p>
+He was surprised to see how charmingly a grass widow of &ldquo;good breeding&rdquo;
+ could take bad tidings. Evidently it wasn&rsquo;t the first time that Mrs. James
+had been to the beach. She smiled cheerfully, and said that it was the
+jury-box for her once more. She gave Peter her card, and told him she
+would be glad to have him call upon her again&mdash;when he had restored
+his fortunes. She packed up her suit-case and her new trunk full of
+Peter&rsquo;s presents, and departed with the most perfect sweetness and good
+taste.
+</p>
+<p>
+<br /><br />
+</p>
+<hr />
+<p>
+<a name="link2H_4_0031" id="link2H_4_0031"> </a>
+</p>
+<div style="height: 4em;">
+<br /><br /><br /><br />
+</div>
+<h2>
+Section 31
+</h2>
+<p>
+So there was Peter, down and out once more. But fate was kind to him. That
+very day came a letter signed &ldquo;Two forty-three,&rdquo; which meant McGivney.
+&ldquo;Two forty-three&rdquo; had some important work for Peter, so would he please
+call at once? Peter pawned his last bit of jewelry for his fare to
+American City, and met McGivney at the usual rendezvous.
+</p>
+<p>
+The purpose of the meeting was quickly explained. America was now at war,
+and the time had come when the mouths of these Reds were to be stopped for
+good. You could do things in war-time that you couldn&rsquo;t do in peace-time,
+and one of the things you were going to do was to put an end to the
+agitation against property. Peter licked his lips, metaphorically
+speaking. It was something he had many times told McGivney ought to be
+done. Pat McCormick especially ought to be put away for good. These were a
+dangerous bunch, these Reds, and Mac was the worst of all. It was every
+man&rsquo;s duty to help, and what could Peter do?
+</p>
+<p>
+McGivney answered that the authorities were making a complete list of all
+the radical organizations and their members, getting evidence preliminary
+to arrests. Guffey was in charge of the job; as in the Goober case, the
+big business interests of the city were going ahead while the government
+was still wiping the sleep out of its eyes. Would Peter take a job spying
+upon the Reds in American City?
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;I can&rsquo;t!&rdquo; exclaimed Peter. &ldquo;They&rsquo;re all sore at me because I didn&rsquo;t
+testify in the Goober case.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;We can easily fix that up,&rdquo; answered the rat-faced man. &ldquo;It may mean a
+little inconvenience for you. You may have to go to jail for a few days.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;To jail!&rdquo; cried Peter, in dismay.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Yes,&rdquo; said the other, &ldquo;you&rsquo;ll have to get arrested, and made into a
+martyr. Then, you see, they&rsquo;ll all be sure you&rsquo;re straight, and they&rsquo;ll
+take you back again and welcome you.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+Peter didn&rsquo;t like the idea of going to jail; his memories of the jail in
+American City were especially painful. But McGivney explained that this
+was a time when men couldn&rsquo;t consider their own feelings; the country was
+in danger, public safety must be protected, and it was up to everybody to
+make some patriotic sacrifice. The rich men were all subscribing to
+liberty bonds; the poor men were going to give their lives; and what was
+Peter Gudge going to give? &ldquo;Maybe I&rsquo;ll be drafted into the army,&rdquo; Peter
+remarked.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;No, you won&rsquo;t&mdash;not if you take this job,&rdquo; said McGivney. &ldquo;We can fix
+that. A man like you, who has special abilities, is too precious to be
+wasted.&rdquo; Peter decided forthwith that he would accept the proposition. It
+was much more sensible to spend a few days in jail than to spend a few
+years in the trenches, and maybe the balance of eternity under the sod of
+France.
+</p>
+<p>
+Matters were quickly arranged. Peter took off his good clothes, and
+dressed himself as became a workingman, and went into the eating-room
+where Donald Gordon, the Quaker boy, always got his lunch. Peter was quite
+sure that Donald would be one of the leading agitators against the draft,
+and in this he was not mistaken.
+</p>
+<p>
+Donald was decidedly uncordial in his welcoming of Peter; without saying a
+word the young Quaker made Peter aware that he was a renegade, a coward
+who had &ldquo;thrown down&rdquo; the Goober defense. But Peter was patient and
+tactful; he did not try to defend himself, nor did he ask any questions
+about Donald and Donald&rsquo;s activities. He simply announced that he had been
+studying the subject of militarism, and had come to a definite point of
+view. He was a Socialist and an Internationalist; he considered America&rsquo;s
+entry into the war a crime, and he was willing to do his part in agitating
+against it. He was going to take his stand as a conscientious objector;
+they might send him to jail if they pleased, or even stand him against a
+wall and shoot him, but they would never get him to put on a uniform.
+</p>
+<p>
+It was impossible for Donald Gordon to hold out against a man who talked
+like that; a man who looked him in the eye and expressed his convictions
+so simply and honestly. And that evening Peter went to a meeting of Local
+American City of the Socialist Party, and renewed his acquaintance with
+all the comrades. He didn&rsquo;t make a speech or do anything conspicuous, but
+simply got into the spirit of things; and next day he managed to meet some
+of the members, and whenever and wherever he was asked, he expressed his
+convictions as a conscientious objector. So before a week had passed Peter
+found that he was being tolerated, that nobody was going to denounce him
+as a traitor, or kick him out of the room.
+</p>
+<p>
+At the next weekly meeting of Local American City, Peter ventured to say a
+few words. It was a red-hot meeting, at which the war and the draft were
+the sole subjects of discussion. There were some Germans in the local,
+some Irishmen, and one or two Hindoos; they, naturally, were all ardent
+pacifists. Also there were agitators of what was coming to be called the
+&ldquo;left wing&rdquo;; the group within the party who considered it too
+conservative, and were always clamoring for more radical declarations, for
+&ldquo;mass action&rdquo; and general strikes and appeals to the proletariat to rise
+forthwith and break their chains. These were days of great events; the
+Russian revolution had electrified the world, and these comrades of the
+&ldquo;left wing&rdquo; felt themselves lifted upon pinions of hope.
+</p>
+<p>
+Peter spoke as one who had been out on the road, meeting the rank and
+file; he could speak for the men on the job. What was the use of opposing
+the draft here in a hall, where nobody but party members were present?
+What was wanted was for them to lift up their voices on the street, to
+awaken the people before it was too late! Was there anybody in this
+gathering bold enough to organize a street meeting?
+</p>
+<p>
+There were some who could not resist this challenge, and in a few minutes
+Peter had secured the pledges of half a dozen young hot-heads, Donald
+Gordon among them. Before the evening was past it had been arranged that
+these would-be-martyrs should hire a truck, and make their debut on Main
+Street the very next evening. Old hands in the movement warned them that
+they would only get their heads cracked by the police. But the answer to
+that was obvious&mdash;they might as well get their heads cracked by the
+police as get them blown to pieces by German artillery.
+</p>
+<p>
+<br /><br />
+</p>
+<hr />
+<p>
+<a name="link2H_4_0032" id="link2H_4_0032"> </a>
+</p>
+<div style="height: 4em;">
+<br /><br /><br /><br />
+</div>
+<h2>
+Section 32
+</h2>
+<p>
+Peter reported to McGivney what was planned, and McGivney promised that
+the police would be on hand. Peter warned him to be careful and have the
+police be gentle; at which McGivney grinned, and answered that he would
+see to that.
+</p>
+<p>
+It was all very simple, and took less than ten minutes of time. The truck
+drew up on Main Street, and a young orator stepped forward and announced
+to his fellow citizens that the time had come for the workers to make
+known their true feelings about the draft. Never would free Americans
+permit themselves to be herded into armies and shipped over seas and be
+slaughtered for the benefit of international bankers. Thus far the orator
+had got, when a policeman stepped forward and ordered him to shut up. When
+he refused, the policeman tapped on the sidewalk with his stick, and a
+squad of eight or ten came round the corner, and the orator was informed
+that he was under arrest. Another orator stepped forward and took up the
+harangue, and when he also had been put under arrest, another, and
+another, until the whole six of them, including Peter, were in hand.
+</p>
+<p>
+The crowd had had no time to work up any interest one way or the other, A
+patrol-wagon was waiting, and the orators were bundled in and driven to
+the station-house, and next morning they were haled before a magistrate
+and sentenced each to fifteen days. As they had been expecting to get six
+months, they were a happy bunch of &ldquo;left wingers.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+And they were still happier when they saw how they were to be treated in
+jail. Ordinarily it was the custom of the police to inflict all possible
+pain and humiliation upon the Reds. They would put them in the revolving
+tank, a huge steel structure of many cells which was turned round and
+round by a crank. In order to get into any cell, the whole tank had to be
+turned until that particular cell was opposite the entrance, which meant
+that everybody in the tank got a free ride, accompanied by endless
+groaning and scraping of rusty machinery; also it meant that nobody got
+any consecutive sleep. The tank was dark, too dark to read, even if they
+had had books or papers. There was nothing to do save to smoke cigarettes
+and shoot craps, and listen to the smutty stories of the criminals, and
+plot revenge against society when they got out again. But up in the new
+wing of the jail were some cells which were clean and bright and airy,
+being only three or four feet from a row of windows. In these cells they
+generally put the higher class of criminals&mdash;women who had cut the
+throats of their sweethearts, and burglars who had got I away with the
+swag, and bankers who had plundered whole communities. But now, to the
+great surprise of five out of the six anti-militarists, the entire party
+was put in one of these big cells, and allowed the privilege of having
+reading matter and of paying for their own food. Under these circumstances
+martyrdom became a joke, and the little party settled down to enjoy life.
+It never once occurred to them to think of Peter Gudge as the source of
+this bounty. They attributed it, as the French say, &ldquo;to their beautiful
+eyes.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+There was Donald Gordon, who was the son of a well-to-do business man, and
+had been to college, until he was expelled for taking the doctrines of
+Christianity too literally and expounding them too persistently on the
+college campus. There was a big, brawny lumber-jack from the North, Jim
+Henderson by name, who had been driven out of the camps for the same
+reason, and had appalling stories to tell of the cruelties and hardships
+of the life of a logger. There was a Swedish sailor by the name of Gus,
+who had visited every port in the world, and a young Jewish cigar-worker
+who had never been outside of American City, but had travelled even more
+widely in his mind.
+</p>
+<p>
+The sixth man was the strangest character of all to Peter; a shy, dreamy
+fellow with eyes so full of pain and a face so altogether mournful that it
+hurt to look at him. Duggan was his name, and he was known in the movement
+as the &ldquo;hobo poet.&rdquo; He wrote verses, endless verses about the lives of
+society&rsquo;s outcasts; he would get himself a pencil and paper and sit off in
+the corner of the cell by the hour, and the rest of the fellows,
+respecting his work, would talk in whispers so as not to disturb him. He
+wrote all the time while the others slept, it seemed to Peter. He wrote
+verses about the adventures of his fellow-prisoners, and presently he was
+writing verses about the jailers, and about other prisoners in this part
+of the jail. He would have moods of inspiration, and would make up topical
+verses as he went along; then again he would sink back into his despair,
+and say that life was hell, and making rhymes about it was childishness.
+</p>
+<p>
+There was no part of America that Tom Duggan hadn&rsquo;t visited, no tragedy of
+the life of outcasts that he hadn&rsquo;t seen. He was so saturated with it that
+he couldn&rsquo;t think of anything else. He would tell about men who had
+perished of thirst in the desert, about miners sealed up for weeks in an
+exploded mine, about matchmakers poisoned until their teeth fell out, and
+their finger nails and even their eyes. Peter could see no excuse for such
+morbidness, such endless harping upon the horrible things of life. It
+spoiled all his happiness in the jail&mdash;it was worse than little
+Jennie&rsquo;s talking about the war!
+</p>
+<p>
+<br /><br />
+</p>
+<hr />
+<p>
+<a name="link2H_4_0033" id="link2H_4_0033"> </a>
+</p>
+<div style="height: 4em;">
+<br /><br /><br /><br />
+</div>
+<h2>
+Section 33
+</h2>
+<p>
+One of Duggan&rsquo;s poems had to do with a poor devil named Slim, who was a
+&ldquo;snow-eater,&rdquo; that is to say, a cocaine victim. This Slim wandered about
+the streets of New York in the winter-time without any shelter, and would
+get into an office building late in the afternoon, and hide in one of the
+lavatories to spend the night. If he lay down, he would be seen and thrown
+out, so his only chance was to sit up; but when he fell asleep, he would
+fall off the seat&mdash;therefore he carried a rope in his pocket, and
+would tie himself in a sitting position.
+</p>
+<p>
+Now what was the use of a story like that? Peter didn&rsquo;t want to hear about
+such people! He wanted to express his disgust; but he knew, of course,
+that he must hide it. He laughed as he exclaimed, &ldquo;Christ Almighty,
+Duggan, can&rsquo;t you give us something with a smile? You don&rsquo;t think it&rsquo;s the
+job of Socialists to find a cure for the dope habit, do you? That&rsquo;s sure
+one thing that ain&rsquo;t caused by the profit system.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+Duggan smiled his bitterest smile. &ldquo;If there&rsquo;s any misery in the world
+today that ain&rsquo;t kept alive by the profit system, I&rsquo;d like to see it!
+D&rsquo;you think dope sells itself? If there wasn&rsquo;t a profit in it, would it be
+sold to any one but doctors? Where&rsquo;d you get your Socialism, anyhow?&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+So Peter beat a hasty retreat. &ldquo;Oh, sure, I know all that. But here you&rsquo;re
+shut up in jail because you want to change things. Ain&rsquo;t you got a right
+to give yourself a rest while you&rsquo;re in?&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+The poet looked at him, as solemn as an owl. He shook his head. &ldquo;No,&rdquo; he
+said. &ldquo;Just because we&rsquo;re fixed up nice and comfortable in jail, have we
+got the right to forget the misery of those outside?&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+The others laughed; but Duggan did not mean to be funny at all. He rose
+slowly to his feet and with his arms outstretched, in the manner of one
+offering himself as a sacrifice, he proclaimed:
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;While there is a lower class, I am in it.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;While there is a criminal element, I am of it.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;While there is a soul in jail, I am not free.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+Then he sat down and buried his face in his hands. The group of rough
+fellows sat in solemn silence. Presently Gus, the Swedish sailor, feeling
+perhaps that the rebuke to Peter had been too severe, spoke timidly:
+&ldquo;Comrade Gudge, he ban in jail twice already.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+So the poet looked up again. He held out his hand to Peter. &ldquo;Sure, I know
+that!&rdquo; he said, clasping Peter in the grip of comradeship. And then he
+added: &ldquo;I&rsquo;ll tell you a story with a smile!&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+Once upon a time, it appeared, Duggan had been working in a moving picture
+studio, where they needed tramps and outcasts and all sorts of people for
+crowds. They had been making a &ldquo;Preparedness&rdquo; picture, and wanted to show
+the agitators and trouble-makers, mobbing the palace of a banker. They got
+two hundred bums and hoboes, and took them in trucks to the palace of a
+real banker, and on the front lawn the director made a speech to the
+crowd, explaining his ideas. &ldquo;Now,&rdquo; said he, &ldquo;remember, the guy that owns
+this house is the guy that&rsquo;s got all the wealth that you fellows have
+produced. You are down and out, and you know that he&rsquo;s robbed you, so you
+hate him. You gather on his lawn and you&rsquo;re going to mob his home; if you
+can get hold of him, you&rsquo;re going to tear him to bits for what he&rsquo;s done
+to you.&rdquo; So the director went on, until finally Duggan interrupted: &ldquo;Say,
+boss, you don&rsquo;t have to teach us. This is a real palace, and we&rsquo;re real
+bums!&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+Apparently the others saw the &ldquo;smile&rdquo; in this story, for they chuckled for
+some time over it. But it only added to Peter&rsquo;s hatred of these Reds; it
+made him realize more than ever that they were a bunch of &ldquo;sore heads,&rdquo;
+ they were green and yellow with jealousy. Everybody that had succeeded in
+the world they hated&mdash;just because they had succeeded! Well, <i>they</i>
+would never succeed; they could go on forever with their grouching, but
+the mass of the workers in America had a normal attitude toward the big
+man, who could do things. They did not want to wreck his palace; they
+admired him for having it, and they followed his leadership gladly.
+</p>
+<p>
+It seemed as if Henderson, the lumber-jack, had read Peter&rsquo;s thought. &ldquo;My
+God!&rdquo; he said. &ldquo;What a job it is to make the workers class-conscious!&rdquo; He
+sat on the edge of his cot, with his broad shoulders bowed and his heavy
+brows knit in thought over the problem of how to increase the world&rsquo;s
+discontent. He told of one camp where he had worked&mdash;so hard and
+dangerous was the toil that seven men had given up their lives in the
+course of one winter. The man who owned this tract, and was exploiting it,
+had gotten the land by the rankest kind of public frauds; there were
+filthy bunk-houses, vermin, rotten food, poor wages and incessant abuse.
+And yet, in the spring-time, here came the young son of this owner, on a
+honeymoon trip with his bride. &ldquo;And Jesus,&rdquo; said Henderson, &ldquo;if you could
+have seen those stiffs turn out and cheer to split their throats! They
+really meant it, you know; they just loved that pair of idle,
+good-for-nothing kids!&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+Gus, the sailor, spoke up, his broad, good-natured face wearing a grin
+which showed where three of his front teeth had been knocked out with a
+belaying pin. It was exactly the same with the seamen, he declared. They
+never saw the ship-owners, they didn&rsquo;t know even the names of the people
+who were getting the profit of their toil, but they had a crazy loyalty to
+their ship, Some old tanker would be sent out to sea on purpose to be
+sunk, so that the owners might get the insurance. But the poor A. Bs.
+would love that old tub so that they would go down to the bottom with her&mdash;or
+perhaps they would save her, to the owners great disgust!
+</p>
+<p>
+Thus, for hours on end, Peter had to sit listening to this ding donging
+about the wrongs of the poor and the crimes of the rich. Here he had been
+sentenced for fifteen days and nights to listen to Socialist wrangles!
+Every one of these fellows had a different idea of how he wanted the world
+to be run, and every one had a different idea of how to bring about the
+change. Life was an endless struggle between the haves and the have-nots,
+and the question of how the have-nots were to turn out the haves was
+called &ldquo;tactics.&rdquo; When you talked about &ldquo;tactics&rdquo; you used long technical
+terms which made your conversation unintelligible to a plain, ordinary
+mortal. It seemed to Peter that every time he fell asleep it was to the
+music of proletariat and surplus value and unearned increment, possibilism
+and impossibilism, political action, direct action, mass action, and the
+perpetual circle of Syndicalist-Anarchist, Anarchist-Communist,
+Communist-Socialist and Socialist-Syndicalist.
+</p>
+<p>
+<br /><br />
+</p>
+<hr />
+<p>
+<a name="link2H_4_0034" id="link2H_4_0034"> </a>
+</p>
+<div style="height: 4em;">
+<br /><br /><br /><br />
+</div>
+<h2>
+Section 34
+</h2>
+<p>
+In company such as this Peter&rsquo;s education for the role of detective was
+completed by force, as it were. He listened to everything, and while he
+did not dare make any notes, he stored away treasures in his mind, and
+when he came out of the jail he was able to give McGivney a pretty
+complete picture of the various radical organizations in American City,
+and the attitude of each one toward the war.
+</p>
+<p>
+Peter found that McGivney&rsquo;s device had worked perfectly. Peter was now a
+martyr and a hero; his position as one of the &ldquo;left wingers&rdquo; was
+definitely established, and anyone who ventured to say a word against him
+would be indignantly rebuked. As a matter of fact, no one desired to say
+much. Pat McCormick, Peter&rsquo;s enemy, was out on an organizing trip among
+the oil workers.
+</p>
+<p>
+Duggan had apparently taken a fancy to Peter, and took him to meet some of
+his friends, who lived in an old, deserted warehouse, which happened to
+have skylights in the roof; this constituted each room a &ldquo;studio,&rdquo; and
+various radicals rented the rooms, and lived here a sort of picnic
+existence which Peter learned was called &ldquo;Bohemian.&rdquo; They were young
+people, most of them, with one or two old fellows, derelicts; they wore
+flannel shirts, and soft ties, or no ties at all, and their fingers were
+always smeared with paint. Their life requirements were simple; all they
+wanted was an unlimited quantity of canvas and paint, some cigarettes, and
+at long intervals a pickle or some sauer-kraut and a bottle of beer. They
+would sit all day in front of an easel, painting the most inconceivable
+pictures&mdash;pink skies and green-faced women and purple grass and
+fantastic splurges of color which they would call anything from &ldquo;The Woman
+with a Mustard Pot&rdquo; to &ldquo;A Nude Coming Downstairs.&rdquo; And there would be
+others, like Duggan, writing verses all day; pounding away on a
+typewriter, if they could manage to rent or borrow one. There were several
+who sang, and one who played the flute and caused all the others to tear
+their hair. There was a boy fresh from the country, who declared that he
+had run away from home because the family sang hymns all day Sunday, and
+never sang in tune.
+</p>
+<p>
+From people such as these you would hear the most revolutionary
+utterances; but Peter soon realized that it was mostly just talk with
+them. They would work off their frenzies with a few dashes of paint or
+some ferocious chords on the piano. The really dangerous ones were not
+here; they were hidden away in offices or dens of their own, where they
+were prompting strikes and labor agitations, and preparing incendiary
+literature to be circulated among the poor.
+</p>
+<p>
+You met such people in the Socialist local, and in the I. W. W.
+headquarters, and in numerous clubs and propaganda societies which Peter
+investigated, and to which he was welcomed as a member. In the Socialist
+local there was a fierce struggle going on over the war. What should be
+the attitude of the party? There was a group, a comparatively small group,
+which believed that the interests of Socialism would best be served by
+helping the Allies to the overthrow of the Kaiser. There was another
+group, larger and still more determined, which believed that the war was a
+conspiracy of allied capitalism to rivet its power upon the world, and
+this group wanted the party to stake its existence upon a struggle against
+American participation. These two groups contested for the minds of the
+rank and file of the members, who seemed to be bewildered by the magnitude
+of the issue and the complexity of the arguments. Peter&rsquo;s orders were to
+go with the extreme anti-militarists; they were the ones whose confidence
+he wished to gain, also they were the trouble-makers of the movement, and
+McGivney&rsquo;s instructions were to make all the trouble possible.
+</p>
+<p>
+Over at the I. W. W. headquarters was another group whose members were
+debating their attitude to the war. Should they call strikes and try to
+cripple the leading industries of the country? Or should they go quietly
+on with their organization work, certain that in the end the workers would
+sicken of the military adventure into which they were being snared? Some
+of these &ldquo;wobblies&rdquo; were Socialist party members also, and were active in
+both gatherings; two of them, Henderson, the lumber-jack, and Gus
+Lindstrom, the sailor, had been in jail with Peter, and had been among his
+intimates ever since.
+</p>
+<p>
+Also Peter met the Pacifists; the &ldquo;Peoples&rsquo; Council,&rdquo; as they called
+themselves. Many of these were religious people, two or three clergymen,
+and Donald Gordon, the Quaker, and a varied assortment of women&mdash;sentimental
+young girls who shrunk from the thought of bloodshed, and mothers with
+tear-stained cheeks who did not want their darlings to be drafted. Peter
+saw right away that these mothers had no &ldquo;conscientious objections.&rdquo; Each
+mother was thinking about her own son and about nothing else. Peter was
+irritated at this, and took it for his special job to see that those
+mother&rsquo;s darlings did their duty.
+</p>
+<p>
+He attended a gathering of Pacifists in the home of a school-teacher. They
+made heart-breaking speeches, and finally little Ada Ruth, the poetess,
+got up and wanted to know, was it all to end in talk, or would they
+organize and prepare to take some action against the draft? Would they not
+at least go out on the street, get up a parade with banners of protest,
+and go to jail as Comrade Peter Gudge had so nobly done?
+</p>
+<p>
+Comrade Peter was called on for &ldquo;a few words.&rdquo; Comrade Peter explained
+that he was no speaker; after all, actions spoke louder than words, and he
+had tried to show what he believed. The others were made ashamed by this,
+and decided for a bold stand at once. Ada Ruth became president and Donald
+Gordon secretary of the &ldquo;Anti-conscription League&rdquo;&mdash;a list of whose
+charter members was turned over to McGivney the same evening.
+</p>
+<p>
+<br /><br />
+</p>
+<hr />
+<p>
+<a name="link2H_4_0035" id="link2H_4_0035"> </a>
+</p>
+<div style="height: 4em;">
+<br /><br /><br /><br />
+</div>
+<h2>
+Section 35
+</h2>
+<p>
+All this time the country had been going to war. The huge military machine
+was getting under way, the storm of public feeling was rising. Congress
+had voted a huge loan, a country-wide machine of propaganda was being
+organized, and the oratory of Four Minute Men was echoing from Maine to
+California. Peter read the American City &ldquo;Times&rdquo; every morning, and here
+were speeches of statesmen and sermons of clergymen, here were cartoons
+and editorials, all burning with the fervor&rsquo;s of patriotism. Peter
+absorbed these, and his soul became transfigured. Hitherto Peter had been
+living for himself; but there comes a time in the life of every man who
+can use his brain at all when he realizes that he is not the one thing of
+importance in the universe, the one end to be served. Peter very often
+suffered from qualms of conscience, waves of doubt as to his own
+righteousness. Peter, like every other soul that ever lived, needed a
+religion, an ideal.
+</p>
+<p>
+The Reds had a religion, as you might call it; but this religion had
+failed to attract Peter. In the first place it was low; its devotees were
+wholly lacking in the graces of life, in prestige, and that ease which
+comes with assurance of power. They were noisy in their fervors, and
+repelled Peter as much as the Holy Rollers. Also, they were always harping
+upon the sordid and painful facts of life; who but a pervert would listen
+to &ldquo;sob stories,&rdquo; when he might have all the things that are glorious and
+shining and splendid in the world?
+</p>
+<p>
+But now here was the religion Peter wanted. These clergymen in their robes
+of snow white linen, preaching in churches with golden altars and
+stained-glass windows; these statesmen who wore the halo of fame, and went
+about with the cheering of thousands in their ears; these mighty captains
+of industry whose very names were magic&mdash;with power, when written on
+pieces of paper, to cause cities to rise in the desert, and then to fall
+again beneath a rain of shells and poison gas; these editors and
+cartoonists of the American City &ldquo;Times,&rdquo; with all their wit and learning&mdash;these
+people all combined to construct for Peter a religion and an ideal, and to
+hand it out to him, ready-made and precisely fitted to his understanding.
+Peter would go right on doing the things he had been doing before; but he
+would no longer do them in the name of Peter Gudge, the ant, he would do
+them in the name of a mighty nation of a hundred and ten million people,
+with all its priceless memories of the past and its infinite hopes for the
+future; he would do them in the sacred name of patriotism, and the still
+more sacred name of democracy. And&mdash;most convenient of circumstances&mdash;the
+big business men of American City, who had established a secret service
+bureau with Guffey in charge of it, would go right on putting up their
+funds, and paying Peter fifty dollars a week and expenses while he served
+the holy cause!
+</p>
+<p>
+It was the fashion these days for orators and public men to vie with one
+another in expressing the extremes of patriotism, and Peter would read
+these phrases, and cherish them; they came to seem a part of him, he felt
+as if he had invented them. He became greedy for more and yet more of this
+soul-food; and there was always more to be had&mdash;until Peter&rsquo;s soul
+was become swollen, puffed up as with a bellows. Peter became a patriot of
+patriots, a super-patriot; Peter was a red-blooded American and no
+mollycoddle; Peter was a &ldquo;he-American,&rdquo; a 100% American&mdash;and if there
+could have been such a thing as a 101% American, Peter would have been
+that. Peter was so much of an American that the very sight of a foreigner
+filled him with a fighting impulse. As for the Reds&mdash;well, Peter
+groped for quite a time before he finally came upon a formula which
+expressed his feelings. It was a famous clergyman who achieved it for him&mdash;saying
+that if he could have his way he would take all the Reds, and put them in
+a ship of stone with sails of lead, and send them forth with hell for
+their destination.
+</p>
+<p>
+So Peter chafed more and more at his inability to get action. How much
+more evidence did the secret service of the Traction Trust require? Peter
+would ask this question of McGivney again and again, and McGivney would
+answer: &ldquo;Keep your shirt on. You&rsquo;re getting your pay every week. What&rsquo;s
+the matter with you?&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;The matter is, I&rsquo;m tired of listening to these fellows ranting,&rdquo; Peter
+would say. &ldquo;I want to stop their mouths.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+Yes, Peter had come to take it as a personal affront that these radicals
+should go on denouncing the cause which Peter had espoused. They all
+thought of Peter as a comrade, they were most friendly to him; but Peter
+had the knowledge of how they would regard him when they knew the real
+truth, and this imagined contempt burned him like an acid. Sometimes there
+would be talk about spies and informers, and then these people would
+exhaust their vocabulary of abuse, and Peter, of course, would apply every
+word of it to himself and become wild with anger. He would long to answer
+back; he was waiting for the day when he might vindicate himself and his
+cause by smashing these Reds in the mouth.
+</p>
+<p>
+<br /><br />
+</p>
+<hr />
+<p>
+<a name="link2H_4_0036" id="link2H_4_0036"> </a>
+</p>
+<div style="height: 4em;">
+<br /><br /><br /><br />
+</div>
+<h2>
+Section 36
+</h2>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Well,&rdquo; said McGivney one day, &ldquo;I&rsquo;ve got something interesting for you
+now. You&rsquo;re going into high society for a while!&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+And the rat-faced man explained that there was a young man in a
+neighboring city, reputed to be a multi-millionaire, who had written a
+book against the war, and was the financial source of much pacificism and
+sedition. &ldquo;These people are spending lots of money for printing,&rdquo; said
+McGivney, &ldquo;and we hear this fellow Lackman is putting it up. We&rsquo;ve learned
+that he is to be in town tomorrow, and we want you to find out all about
+his affairs.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+So Peter was to meet a millionaire! Peter had never known one of these
+fortunate beings, but he was for them&mdash;he had always been for them.
+Ever since he had learned to read, he had liked to find stories about them
+in the newspapers, with pictures of them and their palaces. He had read
+these stories as a child reads fairy tales. They were his creatures of
+dreams, belonging to a world above reality, above pain and inconvenience.
+</p>
+<p>
+And then in the days when Peter had been a servant in the Temple of
+Jimjambo, devoted to the cult of Eleutherinian Exoticism, he had found
+hanging in the main assembly room a picture labelled, &ldquo;Mount Olympus,&rdquo;
+ showing a dozen gods and goddesses reclining at ease on silken couches,
+sipping nectar from golden goblets and gazing down upon the far-off
+troubles of the world. Peter would peer from behind the curtains and see
+the Chief Magistrian emerging from behind the seven mystic veils, lifting
+his rolling voice and in a kind of chant expounding life to his flock of
+adoring society ladies. He would point to the picture and explain those
+golden, Olympian days when the Eleutherinian cult had originated. The
+world had changed much since then, and for the worse; those who had power
+must take it as their task to restore beauty and splendor to the world,
+and to develop the gracious possibilities of being.
+</p>
+<p>
+Peter, of course, hadn&rsquo;t really believed in anything that went on in the
+Temple of Jimjambo; and yet he had been awed by its richness, and by the
+undoubtedly exclusive character of its worshippers; he had got the idea
+definitely fixed in his head that there really had been a Mount Olympus,
+and when he tried to imagine the millionaires and their ways, it was these
+gods and goddesses, reclining on silken couches and sipping nectar, that
+came to his mind!
+</p>
+<p>
+Now since Peter had come to know the Reds, who wanted to blow up the
+palaces of the millionaires, he was more than ever on the side of his gods
+and goddesses. His fervors for them increased every time he heard them
+assailed; he wanted to meet some of them, and passionately, yet
+respectfully, pour out to them his allegiance. A glow of satisfaction came
+over him as he pictured himself in some palace, lounging upon a silken
+conch and explaining to a millionaire his understanding of the value of
+beauty and splendor in the world.
+</p>
+<p>
+And now he was to meet one; it was to be a part of his job to cultivate
+one! True, there was something wrong with this particular millionaire&mdash;he
+was one of those freaks who for some reason beyond imagining gave their
+sympathy to the dynamiters and assassins. Peter had met &ldquo;Parlor Reds&rdquo; at
+the home of the Todd sisters; the large shining ladies who came in large
+shining cars to hear him tell of his jail experiences. But he hadn&rsquo;t been
+sure as to whether they were really millionaires or not, and Sadie, when
+he had inquired particularly, had answered vaguely that every one in the
+radical movement who could afford an automobile or a dress-suit was called
+a millionaire by the newspapers.
+</p>
+<p>
+But young Lackman was a real millionaire, McGivney positively assured him;
+and so Peter was free to admire him in spite of all his freak ideas, which
+the rat-faced man explained with intense amusement. Young Lackman
+conducted a school for boys, and when one of the boys did wrong, the
+teacher would punish himself instead of the boy! Peter must pretend to be
+interested in this kind of &ldquo;education,&rdquo; said McGivney, and he must learn
+at least the names of Lackman&rsquo;s books.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;But will he pay any attention to me?&rdquo; demanded Peter.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Sure, he will,&rdquo; said McGivney. &ldquo;That&rsquo;s the point&mdash;you&rsquo;ve been in
+jail, you&rsquo;ve really done something as a pacifist. What you want to do is
+to try to interest him in your Anti-conscription League. Tell him you want
+to make it into a national organization, you want to get something done
+besides talking.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+The address of young Lackman was the Hotel de Soto; and as he heard this,
+Peter&rsquo;s heart gave a leap. The Hotel de Soto was the Mount Olympus of
+American City! Peter had walked by the vast white structure, and seen the
+bronze doors swing outward, and the favored ones of the earth emerging to
+their magic chariots; but never had it occurred to him that he might pass
+thru those bronze doors, and gaze upon those hidden mysteries!
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Will they let me in?&rdquo; he asked McGivney, and the other laughed. &ldquo;Just
+walk in as if you owned the place,&rdquo; he said. &ldquo;Hold up your head, and
+pretend you&rsquo;ve lived there all your life.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+That was easy for McGivney to say, but not so easy for Peter to imagine.
+However, he would try it; McGivney must be right, for it was the same
+thing Mrs. James had impressed upon him many times. You must watch what
+other people did, and practice by yourself, and then go in and do it as if
+you had never done anything else. All life was a gigantic bluff, and you
+encouraged yourself in your bluffing by the certainty that everybody else
+was bluffing just as hard.
+</p>
+<p>
+At seven o&rsquo;clock that evening Peter strolled up to the magic bronze doors,
+and touched them; and sure enough, the blue-uniformed guardians drew them
+back without a word, and the tiny brass-button imps never even glanced at
+Peter as he strode up to the desk and asked for Mr. Lackman.
+</p>
+<p>
+The haughty clerk passed him on to a still more haughty telephone
+operator, who condescended to speak into her trumpet, and then informed
+him that Mr. Lackman was out; he had left word that he would return at
+eight. Peter was about to go out and wander about the streets for an hour,
+when he suddenly remembered that everybody else was bluffing; so he
+marched across the lobby and seated himself in one of the huge leather
+arm-chairs, big enough to hold three of him. There he sat, and continued
+to sit&mdash;and nobody said a word!
+</p>
+<p>
+<br /><br />
+</p>
+<hr />
+<p>
+<a name="link2H_4_0037" id="link2H_4_0037"> </a>
+</p>
+<div style="height: 4em;">
+<br /><br /><br /><br />
+</div>
+<h2>
+Section 37
+</h2>
+<p>
+Yes, this was Mount Olympus, and here were the gods: the female ones in a
+state of divine semi-nudity, the male ones mostly clad in black coats with
+pleated shirt-fronts puffing out. Every time one of them moved up to the
+desk Peter would watch and wonder, was this Mr. Lackman? He might have
+been able to pick out a millionaire from an ordinary crowd; but here every
+male god was got up for the precise purpose of looking like a millionaire,
+so Peter&rsquo;s job was an impossible one.
+</p>
+<p>
+In front of him across the lobby floor there arose a ten-foot pillar to a
+far-distant roof. This pillar was of pale, green-streaked marble, and
+Peter&rsquo;s eyes followed it to the top, where it exploded in a snow-white
+cloud-burst, full of fascination. There were four cornucopias, one at each
+corner, and out of each cornucopia came tangled ropes of roses, and out of
+these roses came other ropes, with what appeared to be apples and leaves,
+and still more roses, and still more emerging ropes, spreading in a tangle
+over the ceiling. Here and there, in the midst of all this splendor, was
+the large, placidly smiling face of a boy angel; four of these placidly
+smiling boy angels gazed from the four sides of the snow-white
+cloud-burst, and Peter&rsquo;s eye roamed from one to another, fascinated by the
+mathematics of this architectural marvel. There were fourteen columns in a
+row, and four such rows in the lobby. That made fifty-six columns in all,
+or two hundred and twenty-four boy angels&rsquo; heads. How many cornucopias and
+how many roses and how many apples it meant, defied all calculation. The
+boy angels&rsquo; heads were exactly alike, every head with the same size and
+quality of smile; and Peter marvelled&mdash;how many days would it take a
+sculptor to carve the details of two hundred and twenty-four boy angel
+smiles?
+</p>
+<p>
+All over the Hotel de Soto was this same kind of sumptuous magnificence;
+and Peter experienced the mental effect which it was contrived to produce
+upon him&mdash;a sense of bedazzlement and awe, a realization that those
+who dwelt in the midst of this splendor were people to whom money was
+nothing, who could pour out treasures in a never-ceasing flood. And
+everything else about the place was of the same character, contrived for
+the same effect&mdash;even the gods and the goddesses! One would sweep by
+with a tiara of jewels in her hair; you might amuse yourself by figuring
+out the number of the jewels, as you had figured out the number of the boy
+angels&rsquo; heads. Or you might take her gown of black lace, embroidered with
+golden butterflies, every one patiently done by hand; you might figure&mdash;so
+many yards of material, and so many golden butterflies to the yard! You
+might count the number of sparkling points upon her jet slippers, or trace
+the intricate designs upon her almost transparent stockings&mdash;only
+there was an inch or two of the stockings which you could not see.
+</p>
+<p>
+Peter watched these gorgeous divinities emerge from the elevators, and
+sweep their way into the dining-room beyond. Some people might have been
+shocked by their costumes; but to Peter, who had the picture of Mount
+Olympus in mind, they seemed most proper. It all depended on the point of
+view: whether you thought of a goddess as fully clothed from chin to toes,
+and proceeded with a pair of shears to cut away so much of her costume, or
+whether you imagined the goddess in a state of nature, and proceeded to
+put veils of gauze about her, and a ribbon over each shoulder to hold the
+veils in place.
+</p>
+<p>
+Twice Peter went to the desk, to inquire if Mr. Lackman had come in yet;
+but still he had not come; and Peter&mdash;growing bolder, like the fox
+who spoke to the lion&mdash;strolled about the lobby, gazing at the groups
+of gods at ease. He had noticed a great balcony around all four sides of
+this lobby, the &ldquo;mezzanine floor,&rdquo; as it was called; he decided he would
+see what was up there, and climbed the white marble stairs, and beheld
+more rows of chairs and couches, done in dark grey velvet. Here,
+evidently, was where the female gods came to linger, and Peter seated
+himself as unobtrusively as possible, and watched.
+</p>
+<p>
+Directly in front of him sat a divinity, lolling on a velvet couch with
+one bare white arm stretched out. It was a large stout arm, and the
+possessor was large and stout, with pale golden hair and many sparkling
+jewels. Her glance roamed lazily from place to place. It rested for an
+instant on Peter, and then moved on, and Peter felt the comment upon his
+own insignificance.
+</p>
+<p>
+Nevertheless, he continued to steal glances now and then, and presently
+saw an interesting sight. In her lap this Juno had a gold-embroidered bag,
+and she opened it, disclosing a collection of mysterious apparatus of
+which she proceeded to make use: first a little gold hand-mirror, in which
+she studied her charms; then a little white powder-puff with which she
+deftly tapped her nose and cheeks; then some kind of red pencil with which
+she proceeded to rub her lips; then a golden pencil with which she lightly
+touched her eyebrows. Then it seemed as if she must have discovered a
+little hair which had grown since she left her dressing-room. Peter
+couldn&rsquo;t be sure, but she had a little pair of tweezers, and seemed to
+pull something out of her chin. She went on with quite an elaborate and
+complicated toilet, paying meantime not the slightest attention to the
+people passing by.
+</p>
+<p>
+Peter looked farther, and saw that just as when one person sneezes or
+yawns everybody else in the room is irresistibly impelled to sneeze or
+yawn, so all these Dianas and Junos and Hebes on the &ldquo;mezzanine floor&rdquo; had
+suddenly remembered their little gold or silver hand-mirrors, their
+powder-puffs and red or golden or black pencils. One after another, the
+little vanity-bags came forth, and Peter, gazing in wonder, thought that
+Mount Olympus had turned into a beauty parlor.
+</p>
+<p>
+Peter rose again and strolled and watched the goddesses, big and little,
+old and young, fat and thin, pretty and ugly&mdash;and it seemed to him
+the fatter and older and uglier they were, the more intently they gazed
+into the little hand-mirrors. He watched them with hungry eyes, for he
+knew that here he was in the midst of high life, the real thing, the
+utmost glory to which man could ever hope to attain, and he wanted to know
+all there was to know about it. He strolled on, innocent and unsuspecting,
+and the two hundred and twenty-four white boy angels in the ceiling smiled
+their bland and placid smiles at him, and Peter knew no more than they
+what complications fate had prepared for him on that mezzanine floor!
+</p>
+<p>
+On one of the big lounges there sat a girl, a radiant creature from the
+Emerald Isles, with hair like sunrise and cheeks like apples. Peter took
+one glance at her, and his heart missed three successive beats, and then,
+to make up for lost time, began leaping like a runaway race-horse. He
+could hardly believe what his eyes told him; but his eyes insisted, his
+eyes knew; yes, his eyes had gazed for hours and hours on end upon that
+hair like sunrise and those cheeks like apples. The girl was Nell, the
+chambermaid of the Temple of Jimjambo!
+</p>
+<p>
+She had not looked Peter&rsquo;s way, so there was time for him to start back
+and hide himself behind a pillar; there he stood, peering out and watching
+her profile, still arguing with his eyes. It couldn&rsquo;t be Nell; and yet it
+was! Nell transfigured, Nell translated to Olympus, turned into a goddess
+with a pale grey band about her middle, and a pale grey ribbon over each
+shoulder to hold it in place! Nell reclining at ease and chatting
+vivaciously to a young man with the face of a bulldog and the
+dinner-jacket of a magazine advertisement!
+</p>
+<p>
+Peter gazed and waited, while his heart went on misbehaving. Peter learned
+in those few fearful minutes what real love is, a most devastating force.
+Little Jennie was forgotten, Mrs. James, the grass widow was forgotten,
+and Peter knew that he had never really admired but one woman in the
+world, and that was Nell, the Irish chambermaid of the Temple of Jimjambo.
+The poets have seen fit to represent young love as a mischievous little
+archer with a sharp and penetrating arrow, and now Peter understood what
+they had meant; that arrow had pierced him thru, and he had to hold on to
+the column to keep himself from falling.
+</p>
+<p>
+<br /><br />
+</p>
+<hr />
+<p>
+<a name="link2H_4_0038" id="link2H_4_0038"> </a>
+</p>
+<div style="height: 4em;">
+<br /><br /><br /><br />
+</div>
+<h2>
+Section 38
+</h2>
+<p>
+Presently the couple rose and strolled away to the elevator, and Peter
+followed. He did not dare get into the elevator with them, for he had
+suddenly become accutely aware of the costume he was wearing in his role
+of proletarian anti-militarist! But Peter was certain that Nell and her
+escort were not going out of the building, for they had no hats or wraps;
+so he went downstairs and hunted thru the lobby and the dining-room, and
+then thru the basement, from which he heard strains of music. Here was
+another vast room, got up in mystic oriental fashion, with electric lights
+hidden in bunches of imitation flowers on each table. This room was called
+the &ldquo;grill,&rdquo; and part of it was bare for dancing, and on a little platform
+sat a band playing music.
+</p>
+<p>
+The strangest music that ever assailed human ears! If Peter had heard it
+before seeing Nell, he would not have understood it, but now its weird
+rhythms fitted exactly to the moods which were tormenting him. This music
+would groan, it would rattle and squeak; it would make noises like swiftly
+torn canvas, or like a steam siren in a hurry. It would climb up to the
+heavens and come banging down to hell. And every thing with queer,
+tormenting motions, gliding and writhing, wriggling, jerking, jumping.
+Peter would never have known what to make of such music, if he had not had
+it here made visible before his eyes, in the behavior of the half-naked
+goddesses and the black-coated gods on this dancing floor. These celestial
+ones came sliding across the floor like skaters, they came writhing like
+serpents, they came strutting like turkeys, jumping like rabbits, stalking
+solemnly like giraffes. They came clamped in one another&rsquo;s arms like bears
+trying to hug each other to death; they came contorting themselves as if
+they were boa-constrictors trying to swallow each other. And Peter,
+watching them and listening to their music, made a curious discovery about
+himself. Deeply buried in Peter&rsquo;s soul were the ghosts of all sorts of
+animals; Peter had once been a boa-constrictor, Peter had once been a
+bear, Peter had once been a rabbit and a giraffe, a turkey and a fox; and
+now under the spell of this weird music these dead creatures came to life
+in his soul. So Peter discovered the meaning of &ldquo;jazz,&rdquo; in all its weirdly
+named and incredible varieties.
+</p>
+<p>
+Also Peter discovered that he had once been a caveman, and had hit his
+rival over the head with a stone axe and carried off his girl by the hair.
+All this he discovered while he stood in the doorway of the Hotel de Soto
+grill, and watched Nell, the ex-chambermaid of the Temple of Jimjambo,
+doing the turkey-trot and the fox-trot and the grizzly-bear and the
+bunny-hug in the arms of a young man with the face of a bulldog.
+</p>
+<p>
+Peter stood for a long while in a daze. Nell and the young man sat down at
+one of the tables to have a meal, but still Peter stood watching and
+trying to figure out what to do. He knew that he must not speak to her in
+his present costume; there would be no way to make her understand that he
+was only playing a role&mdash;that he who looked like a &ldquo;dead one&rdquo; was
+really a prosperous man of important affairs, a 100% red-blooded patriot
+disguised as a proletarian pacifist. No, he must wait, he must get into
+his best before he spoke to her. But meantime, she might go away, and he
+might not be able to find her again in this huge city!
+</p>
+<p>
+After an hour or two he succeeded in figuring out a way, and hurried
+upstairs to the writing-room and penned a note:
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Nell: This is your old friend Peter Gudge. I have struck it rich and have
+important news for you. Be sure to send word to me. Peter.&rdquo; To this he
+added his address, and sealed it in an envelope to &ldquo;Miss Nell Doolin.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+Then he went out into the lobby, and signalled to one of the brass-button
+imps who went about the place calling names in shrill sing-song; he got
+this youngster off in a corner and pressed a dollar bill into his hand.
+There was a young lady in the grill who was to have this note at once. It
+was very important. Would the brass-button imp do it?
+</p>
+<p>
+The imp said sure, and Peter stood in the doorway and watched him walk
+back and forth thru the aisles of the grill, calling in his shrill
+sing-song, &ldquo;Miss Nell Doolin! Miss Nell Doolin!&rdquo; He walked right by the
+table where Nell sat eating; he sang right into her face, it seemed to
+Peter; but she never gave a sign.
+</p>
+<p>
+Peter did not know what to make of it, but he was bound to get that note
+to Nell. So when the imp returned, he pointed her out, and the imp went
+again and handed the note to her. Peter saw her take it&mdash;then he
+darted away; and remembering suddenly that he was supposed to be on duty,
+be rushed back to the office and inquired for Mr. Lackman. To his horror
+he learned that Mr. Lackman had returned, paid his bill, and departed with
+his suitcase to a destination unknown!
+</p>
+<p>
+<br /><br />
+</p>
+<hr />
+<p>
+<a name="link2H_4_0039" id="link2H_4_0039"> </a>
+</p>
+<div style="height: 4em;">
+<br /><br /><br /><br />
+</div>
+<h2>
+Section 39
+</h2>
+<p>
+Peter had a midnight appointment with McGivney, and now had to go and
+admit this humiliating failure. He had done his best, he declared; he had
+inquired at the desk, and waited and waited, but the hotel people had
+failed to notify him of Lackman&rsquo;s arrival. All this was strictly true; but
+it did not pacify McGivney, who was in a black fury. &ldquo;It might have been
+worth thousands of dollars to you!&rdquo; he declared. &ldquo;He&rsquo;s the biggest fish
+we&rsquo;ll ever get on our hook.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Won&rsquo;t he come again?&rdquo; asked grief-stricken Peter.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;No,&rdquo; declared the other. &ldquo;They&rsquo;ll get him at his home city.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;But won&rsquo;t that do?&rdquo; asked Peter, naively.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;You damned fool!&rdquo; was McGivney&rsquo;s response. &ldquo;We wanted to get him here,
+where we could pluck him ourselves.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+The rat-faced man hadn&rsquo;t intended to tell Peter so much, but in his rage
+he let it out. He and a couple of his friends had planned to &ldquo;get
+something&rdquo; on this young millionaire, and scare the wits out of him, with
+the idea that he would put up a good many thousand dollars to be let off.
+Peter might have had his share of this&mdash;only he had been fool enough
+to let the bird get out of his net!
+</p>
+<p>
+Peter offered to follow the young man to his home city, and find some way
+to lure him back into McGivney&rsquo;s power. After McGivney had stormed for a
+while, he decided that this might be possible. He would talk it over with
+the others, and let Peter know. But alas, when Peter picked up an
+afternoon newspaper next day, he read on the front page how young Lackman,
+stepping off the train in his home city that morning, had been placed
+under arrest; his school had been raided, and half a dozen of the teachers
+were in jail, and a ton of Red literature had been confiscated, and a
+swarm of dire conspiracies against the safety of the country had been laid
+bare!
+</p>
+<p>
+Peter read this news, and knew that he was in for another stormy hour with
+his boss. But he hardly gave a thought to it, because of something which
+had happened a few minutes before, something of so much greater
+importance. A messenger had brought him a special delivery letter, and
+with thumping heart he had torn it open and read:
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;All right. Meet me in the waiting-room of Guggenheim&rsquo;s Department Store
+at two o&rsquo;clock this afternoon. But for God&rsquo;s sake forget Nell Doolin.
+Yours, Edythe Eustace.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+So here was Peter dressed in his best clothes, as for his temporary
+honeymoon with the grass widow, and on the way to the rendezvous an hour
+ahead of time. And here came Nell, also dressed, every garment so
+contrived that a single glance would tell the beholder that their owner
+was moving in the highest circles, and regardless of expense. Nell glanced
+over her shoulder now and then as she talked, and explained that Ted
+Crothers, the man with the bulldog face, was a terror, and it was hard to
+get away from him, because he had nothing to do all day.
+</p>
+<p>
+The waiting-room of a big department-store was not the place Peter would
+have selected for the pouring out of his heart; but he had to make the
+best of it, so he told Nell that he loved her, that he would never be able
+to love anybody else, and that he had made piles of money now, he was high
+up on the ladder of prosperity. Nell did not laugh at him, as she had
+laughed in the Temple of Jimjambo, for it was easily to be seen that Peter
+Gudge was no longer a scullion, but a man of the world with a fascinating
+air of mystery. Nell wanted to know forthwith what was he doing; he
+answered that he could not tell, it was a secret of the most desperate
+import; he was under oath. These were the days of German spies and
+bomb-plots, when kings and kaisers and emperors and tsars were pouring
+treasures into America for all kinds of melodramatic purposes; also the
+days of government contracts and secret deals, when in the lobbies and
+private meeting-places of hotels like the de Soto there were fortunes made
+and unmade every hour. So it was easy for Nell to believe in a real
+secret, and being a woman, she put all her faculties upon the job of
+guessing it.
+</p>
+<p>
+She did not again ask Peter to tell her; but she let him talk, and
+tactfully guided the conversation, and before long she knew that Peter was
+intimate with a great many of the most desperate Reds, and likewise that
+he knew all about the insides of the Goober case, and about the great men
+of American City who had put up a million dollars for the purpose of
+hanging Goober, and about the various ways in which this money had been
+spent and wires had been pulled to secure a conviction. Nell put two and
+two together, and before long she figured out that the total was four; she
+suddenly confronted Peter with this total, and Peter was dumb with
+consternation, and broke down and confessed everything, and told Nell all
+about his schemes and his achievements and his adventures&mdash;omitting
+only little Jennie and the grass widow.
+</p>
+<p>
+He told about the sums he had been making and was expecting to make; he
+told about Lackman, and showed Nell the newspaper with pictures of the
+young millionaire and his school. &ldquo;What a handsome fellow!&rdquo; said Nell.
+&ldquo;It&rsquo;s a shame!&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;How do you mean?&rdquo; asked Peter, a little puzzled. Could it be that Nell
+had any sympathy for these Reds?
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;I mean,&rdquo; she answered, &ldquo;that he&rsquo;d have been worth more to you than all
+the rest put together.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+Nell was a woman, and her mind ran to the practical aspect of things.
+&ldquo;Look here, Peter,&rdquo; she said, &ldquo;you&rsquo;ve been letting those &lsquo;dicks&rsquo; work you.
+They&rsquo;re getting the swag, and just giving you tips. What you need is
+somebody to take care of you.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+Peter&rsquo;s heart leaped. &ldquo;Will you do it?&rdquo; he cried.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;I&rsquo;ve got Ted on my hands,&rdquo; said the girl. &ldquo;He&rsquo;d cut my throat, and yours
+too, if he knew I was here. But I&rsquo;ll try to get myself free, and then
+maybe&mdash;I won&rsquo;t promise, but I&rsquo;ll think over your problem, Peter, and
+I&rsquo;ll certainly try to help, so that McGivney and Guffey and those fellows
+can&rsquo;t play you for a sucker any longer.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+She must have time to think it over, she said, and to make inquiries about
+the people involved&mdash;some of whom apparently she knew. She would meet
+Peter again the next day, and in a more private place than here. She named
+a spot in the city park which would be easy to find, and yet sufficiently
+remote for a quiet conference.
+</p>
+<p>
+<br /><br />
+</p>
+<hr />
+<p>
+<a name="link2H_4_0040" id="link2H_4_0040"> </a>
+</p>
+<div style="height: 4em;">
+<br /><br /><br /><br />
+</div>
+<h2>
+Section 40
+</h2>
+<p>
+Peter had been made so bold by Nell&rsquo;s flattery and what she had said about
+his importance, that he did not go back to McGivney to take his second
+scolding about the Lackman case. He was getting tired of McGivney&rsquo;s
+scoldings; if McGivney didn&rsquo;t like his work, let McGivney go and be a Red
+for a while himself. Peter walked the streets all day and a part of the
+night, thinking about Nell, and thrilling over the half promises she had
+made him.
+</p>
+<p>
+They met next day in the park. No one was following them, and they found a
+solitary place, and Nell let him kiss her several times, and in between
+the kisses she unfolded to him a terrifying plan. Peter had thought that
+he was something of an intriguer, but his self-esteem shriveled to
+nothingness in the presence of the superb conception which had come to
+ripeness in the space of twenty-four hours in the brain of Nell Doolin,
+alias Edythe Eustace.
+</p>
+<p>
+Peter had been doing the hard work, and these big fellows had been using
+him, handing him a tip now and then, and making fortunes out of the
+information he brought them. McGivney had let the cat out of the bag in
+this case of Lackman; you might be sure they had been making money, big
+money, out of all the other cases. What Peter must do was to work up
+something of his own, and get the real money, and make himself one of the
+big fellows. Peter had the facts, he knew the people; he had watched in
+the Goober case exactly how a &ldquo;frame-up&rdquo; was made, and now he must make
+one for himself, and one that would pay. It was a matter of duty to rid
+the country of all these Reds; but why should he not have the money as
+well?
+</p>
+<p>
+Nell had spent the night figuring over it, trying to pick out the right
+person. She had hit on old &ldquo;Nelse&rdquo; Ackerman, the banker. Ackerman was
+enormously and incredibly wealthy; he was called the financial king of
+American City. Also he was old, and Nell happened to know he was a coward;
+he was sick in bed just now, and when a man is sick he is still more of a
+coward. What Peter must do was to discover some kind of a bomb-plot
+against old &ldquo;Nelse&rdquo; Ackerman. Peter might talk up the idea among some of
+his Reds and get them interested in it, or he might frame up some letters
+to be found upon them, and hide some dynamite in their rooms. When the
+plot was discovered, it would make a frightful uproar, needless to say;
+the king would hear of it, and of Peter&rsquo;s part as the discoverer of it,
+and he would unquestionably reward Peter. Perhaps Peter might arrange to
+be retained as a secret agent to protect the king from the Reds. Thus
+Peter would be in touch with real money, and might hire Guffey and
+McGivney, instead of their hiring him.
+</p>
+<p>
+If Peter had stood alone, would he have dared so perilous a dream as this?
+Or was he a &ldquo;piker&rdquo;; a little fellow, the victim of his own fears and
+vanities? Anyhow, Peter was not alone; he had Nell, and it was necessary
+that he should pose before Nell as a bold and desperate blade. Just as in
+the old days in the Temple, it was necessary that Peter should get plenty
+of money, in order to take Nell away from another man. So he said all
+right, he would go in on that plan; and proceeded to discuss with Nell the
+various personalities he might use.
+</p>
+<p>
+The most likely was Pat McCormick. &ldquo;Mac,&rdquo; with his grim, set face and his
+silent, secretive habits, fitted perfectly to Peter&rsquo;s conception of a
+dynamiter. Also &ldquo;Mac&rdquo; was Peter&rsquo;s personal enemy; &ldquo;Mac&rdquo; had just returned
+from his organizing trip in the oil fields, and had been denouncing Peter
+and gossiping about him in the various radical groups. &ldquo;Mac&rdquo; was the most
+dangerous Red of them all! He must surely be one of the dynamiters!
+</p>
+<p>
+Another likely one was Joe Angell, whom Peter had met at a recent
+gathering of Ada Ruth&rsquo;s &ldquo;Anti-conscription League.&rdquo; People made jokes
+about this chap&rsquo;s name because he looked the part, with his bright blue
+eyes that seemed to have come out of heaven, and his bright golden hair,
+and even the memory of dimples in his cheeks. But when Joe opened his
+lips, you discovered that he was an angel from the nether regions. He was
+the boldest and most defiant of all the Reds that Peter had yet come upon.
+He had laughed at Ada Ruth and her sentimental literary attitude toward
+the subject of the draft. It wasn&rsquo;t writing poems and passing resolutions
+that was wanted; it wasn&rsquo;t even men who would refuse to put on the
+uniform, but men who would take the guns that were offered to them, and
+drill themselves, and at the proper time face about and use the guns in
+the other direction. Agitating and organizing were all right in their
+place, but now, when the government dared challenge the workers and force
+them into the army, it was men of action that were needed in the radical
+movement.
+</p>
+<p>
+Joe Angell had been up in the lumber country, and could tell what was the
+mood of the real workers, the &ldquo;huskies&rdquo; of the timberlands. Those fellows
+weren&rsquo;t doing any more talking; they had their secret committees that were
+ready to take charge of things as soon as they had put the capitalists and
+their governments out of business. Meantime, if there was a sheriff or
+prosecuting attorney that got too gay, they would &ldquo;bump him off.&rdquo; This was
+a favorite phrase of &ldquo;Blue-eyed Angell.&rdquo; He would use it every half hour
+or so as he told about his adventures. &ldquo;Yes,&rdquo; he would say; &ldquo;he got gay,
+but we bumped him off all right.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+<br /><br />
+</p>
+<hr />
+<p>
+<a name="link2H_4_0041" id="link2H_4_0041"> </a>
+</p>
+<div style="height: 4em;">
+<br /><br /><br /><br />
+</div>
+<h2>
+Section 41
+</h2>
+<p>
+So Nell and Peter settled down to work out the details of their &ldquo;frame-up&rdquo;
+ on Joe Angell and Pat McCormick. Peter must get a bunch of them together
+and get them to talking about bombs and killing people; and then he must
+slip a note into the pockets of all who showed interest, calling them to
+meet for a real conspiracy. Nell would write the notes, so that no one
+could fasten the job onto Peter. She pulled out a pencil and a little pad
+from her handbag, and began: &ldquo;If you really believe in a bold stroke for
+the workers&rsquo; rights, meet me&mdash;&rdquo; And then she stopped. &ldquo;Where?&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;In the studios,&rdquo; put in Peter.
+</p>
+<p>
+And Nell wrote, &ldquo;In the studios. Is that enough?&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Room 17.&rdquo; Peter knew that this was the room of Nikitin, a Russian painter
+who called himself an Anarchist.
+</p>
+<p>
+So Nell wrote &ldquo;Room 17,&rdquo; and after further discussion she added: &ldquo;Tomorrow
+morning at eight o&rsquo;clock. No names and no talk. Action!&rdquo; This time was set
+because Peter recollected that there was to be a gathering of the
+&ldquo;wobblies&rdquo; in their headquarters this very evening. It was to be a
+business meeting, but of course these fellows never got together very long
+without starting the subject of &ldquo;tactics.&rdquo; There was a considerable
+element among them who were dissatisfied with what they called the &ldquo;supine
+attitude&rdquo; of the organization, and were always arguing for action. Peter
+was sure he would be able to get some of them interested in the idea of a
+dynamite conspiracy.
+</p>
+<p>
+As it turned out, Peter had no trouble at all; the subject was started
+without his having to put in a word. Were the workers to be driven like
+sheep to the slaughter, and the &ldquo;wobblies&rdquo; not to make one move? So asked
+the &ldquo;Blue-eyed Angell,&rdquo; vehemently, and added that if they were going to
+move, American City was as good a place as any. He had talked with enough
+of the rank and file to realize that they were ready for action; all they
+needed was a battle-cry and an organization to guide them.
+</p>
+<p>
+Henderson, the big lumber-jack, spoke up. That was just the trouble; you
+couldn&rsquo;t get an organization for such a purpose. The authorities would get
+spies among you, they would find out what you were doing, and drive you
+underground.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Well,&rdquo; cried Joe, &ldquo;we&rsquo;ll go underground!&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Yes,&rdquo; agreed the other, &ldquo;but then your organization goes bust. Nobody
+knows who to trust, everybody&rsquo;s accusing the rest of being a spy.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Hell!&rdquo; said Joe Angell. &ldquo;I&rsquo;ve been in jail for the movement, I&rsquo;ll take my
+chances of anybody&rsquo;s calling me a spy. What I&rsquo;m not going to do is to sit
+down and see the workers driven to hell, because I&rsquo;m so damn careful about
+my precious organization.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+When others objected, Angell rushed on still more vehemently. Suppose they
+did fail in a mass-uprising, suppose they were driven to assassination and
+terrorism? At least they would teach the exploiters a lesson, and take a
+little of the joy out of their lives.
+</p>
+<p>
+Peter thought it would be a good idea for him to pose as a conservative
+just now. &ldquo;Do you really think the capitalists would give up from fear?&rdquo;
+ he asked.
+</p>
+<p>
+And the other answered: &ldquo;You bet I do! I tell you if we&rsquo;d made it
+understood that every congressman who voted this country into war would be
+sent to the front trenches, our country would still be at peace.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;But,&rdquo; put in Peter, deftly, &ldquo;it ain&rsquo;t the congressmen. It&rsquo;s people higher
+up than them.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;You bet,&rdquo; put in Gus, the Swedish sailor. &ldquo;You bet you! I name you one
+dozen big fellows in dis country&mdash;you make it clear if we don&rsquo;t get
+peace dey all get killed&mdash;we get peace all right!&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+So Peter had things where he wanted them. &ldquo;Who are those fellows?&rdquo; he
+asked, and got the crowd arguing over names. Of course they didn&rsquo;t argue
+very long before somebody mentioned &ldquo;Nelse&rdquo; Ackerman, who was venomously
+hated by the Reds because he had put up a hundred thousand dollars of the
+Anti-Goober fund. Peter pretended not to know about Nelse; and Jerry Rudd,
+a &ldquo;blanket-stiff&rdquo; whose head was still sore from being cracked open in a
+recent harvesters&rsquo; strike, remarked that by Jesus, if they&rsquo;d put a few
+fellows like that in the trenches, there&rsquo;d be some pacifists in Ameriky
+sure enough all right.
+</p>
+<p>
+It seemed almost as if Joe Angell had come there to back up Peter&rsquo;s
+purpose. &ldquo;What we want,&rdquo; said he, &ldquo;is a few fellows to fight as hard for
+themselves as they fight for the capitalists.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Yes,&rdquo; assented Henderson, grimly. &ldquo;We&rsquo;re all so good&mdash;we wait till
+our masters tell us we can kill.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+That was the end of the discussion; but it seemed quite enough to Peter.
+He watched his chance, and one by one he managed to slip his little notes
+into the coat-pockets of Joe Angell, Jerry Rudd, Henderson, and Gus, the
+sailor. And then Peter made his escape, trembling with excitement. The
+great dynamite conspiracy was on! &ldquo;They must be got rid of!&rdquo; he was
+whispering to himself. &ldquo;They must be got rid of by any means! It&rsquo;s my duty
+I&rsquo;m doing.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+<br /><br />
+</p>
+<hr />
+<p>
+<a name="link2H_4_0042" id="link2H_4_0042"> </a>
+</p>
+<div style="height: 4em;">
+<br /><br /><br /><br />
+</div>
+<h2>
+Section 42
+</h2>
+<p>
+Peter had an appointment to meet Nell on a street corner at eleven o&rsquo;clock
+that same night, and when she stepped off the street-car, Peter saw that
+she was carrying a suit-case. &ldquo;Did you get your job done?&rdquo; she asked
+quickly, and when Peter answered in the affirmative, she added: &ldquo;Here&rsquo;s
+your bomb!&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+Peter&rsquo;s jaw fell. He looked so frightened that she hastened to reassure
+him. It wouldn&rsquo;t go off; it was only the makings of a bomb, three sticks
+of dynamite and some fuses and part of a clock. The dynamite was wrapped
+carefully, and there was no chance of its exploding&mdash;if he didn&rsquo;t
+drop it! But Peter wasn&rsquo;t much consoled. He had had no idea that Nell
+would go so far, or that he would actually have to handle dynamite. He
+wondered where and how she had got it, and wished to God he was out of
+this thing.
+</p>
+<p>
+But it was too late now, of course. Said Nell: &ldquo;You&rsquo;ve got to get this
+suit-case into the headquarters, and you&rsquo;ve got to get it there without
+anybody seeing you. They&rsquo;ll be shut up pretty soon, won&rsquo;t they?&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;We locked up when we left,&rdquo; said Peter.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;And who has the key?&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Grady, the secretary.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;There&rsquo;s no way you can get it?&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;I can get into the room,&rdquo; said Peter, quickly. &ldquo;There&rsquo;s a fire escape,
+and the window isn&rsquo;t tight. Some of us that know about it have got in that
+way when the place was locked.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;All right,&rdquo; said Nell. &ldquo;We&rsquo;ll wait a bit; we mustn&rsquo;t take chances of
+anyone coming back.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+They started to stroll along the street, Nell still carrying the
+suit-case, as if distrusting the state of Peter&rsquo;s nerves, Meantime she
+explained, &ldquo;I&rsquo;ve got two pieces of paper that we&rsquo;ve got to plant in the
+room. One&rsquo;s to be torn up and thrown into the trash-basket. It&rsquo;s supposed
+to be part of a letter about some big plan that&rsquo;s to be pulled off, and
+it&rsquo;s signed &lsquo;Mac.&rsquo; That&rsquo;s for McCormick, of course. I had to type it, not
+having any sample of his handwriting. The other piece is a drawing;
+there&rsquo;s no marks to show what it is, but of course the police&rsquo;ll soon find
+out. It&rsquo;s a plan of old Ackerman&rsquo;s home, and there&rsquo;s a cross mark showing
+his sleeping-porch. Now, what we want to do is to fix this on McCormick.
+Is there anything in the room that belongs to him?&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+Peter thought, and at last remembered that in the bookshelves were some
+books which had been donated by McCormick, and which had his name written
+in. That was the trick! exclaimed Nell. They would hide the paper in one
+of these books, and when the police made a thorough search they would find
+it. Nell asked what was in these books, and Peter thought, and remembered
+that one was a book on sabotage. &ldquo;Put the paper in that,&rdquo; said Nell. &ldquo;When
+the police find it, the newspapers&rsquo;ll print the whole book.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+Peter&rsquo;s knees were trembling so that he could hardly walk, but he kept
+reminding himself that he was a &ldquo;he-man,&rdquo; a 100% American, and that in
+these times of war every patriot must do his part. His part was to help
+rid the country of these Reds, and he must not flinch. They made their way
+to the old building in which the I. W. W. headquarters were located, and
+Peter climbed up on the fence and swung over to the fire-escape, and Nell
+very carefully handed the suit-case to him, and Peter opened the damaged
+window and slipped into the room.
+</p>
+<p>
+He knew just where the cupboard was, and quickly stored the suit-case in
+the corner, and piled some odds and ends of stuff in front of it, and
+threw an old piece of canvas over it. He took out of his right-hand pocket
+a typewritten letter, and tore it into small pieces and threw them into
+the trash-basket. Then he took out of his left-hand pocket the other
+paper, with the drawing of Ackerman&rsquo;s house. He went to the bookcase and
+with shaking fingers struck a match, picked out the little redbound book
+entitled &ldquo;Sabotage,&rdquo; and stuck the paper inside, and put the book back in
+place. Then he climbed out on the fire-escape and dropped to the ground,
+jumped over the fence, and hurried down the alley to where Nell was
+waiting for him.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;It&rsquo;s for my country!&rdquo; he was whispering to himself.
+</p>
+<p>
+<br /><br />
+</p>
+<hr />
+<p>
+<a name="link2H_4_0043" id="link2H_4_0043"> </a>
+</p>
+<div style="height: 4em;">
+<br /><br /><br /><br />
+</div>
+<h2>
+Section 43
+</h2>
+<p>
+The job was now complete, except for getting McCormick to the rendezvous
+next morning. Nell had prepared and would mail in the postoffice a special
+delivery letter addressed to McCormick&rsquo;s home. This would be delivered
+about seven o&rsquo;clock in the morning, and inside was a typewritten note, as
+follows:
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Mac: Come to Room 17 of the studios at eight in the morning. Very
+important. Our plan is all ready, my part is done. Joe.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+Nell figured that McCormick would take this to be a message from Angell.
+He wouldn&rsquo;t know what it was about, but he&rsquo;d be all the more certain to
+come and find out. The essential thing was that the raid by the detectives
+must occur the very minute the conspirators got together, for as soon as
+they compared notes they would become suspicious, and might scatter at
+once. McGivney must have his men ready; he must be notified and have
+plenty of time to get them ready.
+</p>
+<p>
+But there was a serious objection to this&mdash;if McGivney had time, he
+would demand a talk with Peter, and Nell was sure that Peter couldn&rsquo;t
+stand a cross-questioning at McGivney&rsquo;s hands. Peter, needless to say,
+agreed with her; his heart threatened to collapse at the thought of such
+an ordeal. What Peter really wanted to do was to quit the whole thing
+right there and then; but he dared not say so, he dared not face the
+withering scorn of his confederate. Peter clenched his hands and set his
+teeth, and when he passed a street light he turned his face away, so that
+Nell might not read the humiliating terror written there. But Nell read it
+all the same; Nell believed that she was dealing with a quivering,
+pasty-faced coward, and proceeded on that basis; she worked out the plans,
+she gave Peter his orders, and she stuck by him to see that he carried
+them out.
+</p>
+<p>
+Peter had McGivney&rsquo;s home telephone number, which he was only supposed to
+use in the most desperate emergency. He was to use it now, and tell
+McGivney that he had just caught some members of the I. W. W., with Pat
+McCormick as their leader, preparing to blow up some people with dynamite
+bombs. They had some bombs in a suit-case in their headquarters, and were
+just starting out with other bombs in their pockets. Peter must follow
+them, otherwise he would lose them, and some crime might be committed
+before he could interfere. McGivney must have his agents ready with
+automobiles to swoop down upon any place that Peter indicated. Peter would
+follow up the conspirators, and phone McGivney again at the first
+opportunity he could find.
+</p>
+<p>
+Nell was especially insistent that when Peter spoke to McGivney he must
+have only a moment to spare, no time for questions, and he must not stop
+to answer any. He must be in a state of trembling excitement; and Peter
+was sure that would be very easy! He rehearsed over to Nell every word he
+must say, and just how he was to cut short the conversation and hang up
+the receiver. Then he went into an all night drug-store just around the
+corner from the headquarters, and from a telephone booth called McGivney&rsquo;s
+home.
+</p>
+<p>
+It was an apartment house, and after some delay Peter heard the voice of
+his employer, surly with sleep. But Peter waked him up quickly. &ldquo;Mr.
+McGivney, there&rsquo;s a dynamite plot!&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;<i>What</i>?&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;I. W. W. They&rsquo;ve got bombs in a suit-case! They&rsquo;re starting off to blow
+somebody up tonight.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;By God! What do you mean? Who?&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;I dunno yet. I only heard part of it, and I&rsquo;ve got to go. They&rsquo;re
+starting, I&rsquo;ve got to follow them. I may lose them and it&rsquo;ll be too late.
+You hear me, I&rsquo;ve got to follow them!&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;I hear you. What do you want me to do?&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;I&rsquo;ll phone you again the first chance I get. You have your men ready, a
+dozen of them! Have automobiles, so you can come quick. You get me?&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Yes, but&mdash;&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;I can&rsquo;t talk any more, I may lose them, I haven&rsquo;t a second! You be at
+your phone, and have your men ready&mdash;everything ready. You get me?&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Yes, but listen, man! You sure you&rsquo;re not mistaken?&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Yes, yes, I&rsquo;m sure!&rdquo; cried Peter, his voice mounting in excitement.
+&ldquo;They&rsquo;ve got the dynamite, I tell you&mdash;everything! It&rsquo;s a man named
+Nelse.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Nelse what?&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;The man they&rsquo;re going to kill. I&rsquo;ve got to go now, you get ready.
+Good-bye!&rdquo; And Peter hung up the receiver. He had got so excited over the
+part he was playing that he sprang up and ran out of the drug-store, as if
+he really had to catch up with some I. W. W. conspirators carrying a
+dynamite bomb!
+</p>
+<p>
+But there was Nell, and they strolled down the street again. They came to
+a small park, and sat on one of the benches, because Peter&rsquo;s legs would no
+longer hold him up. Nell walked about to make sure there was no one on any
+of the other benches; then she came back and rehearsed the next scene with
+Peter. They must go over it most carefully, because before long the time
+was coming when Peter wouldn&rsquo;t have Nell to coach him, and must be
+prepared to stand on his own legs. Peter knew that, and his legs failed
+him. He wanted to back down, and declare that he couldn&rsquo;t go ahead with
+it; he wanted to go to McGivney and confess everything. Nell divined what
+was going on in his soul, and wished to save him the humiliation of having
+it known. She sat close to him on the bench, and put her hand on his as
+she talked to him, and presently Peter felt a magic thrill stealing over
+him. He ventured to put his arm about Nell, to get still more of this
+delicious sensation; and Nell permitted the embraces, for the first time
+she even encouraged them. Peter was a hero now, he was undertaking a bold
+and desperate venture; he was going to put it thru like a man, and win
+Nell&rsquo;s real admiration. &ldquo;Our country&rsquo;s at war!&rdquo; she exclaimed. &ldquo;And these
+devils are stopping it!&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+So pretty soon Peter was ready to face the whole world; Peter was ready to
+go himself and blow up the king of American City with a dynamite bomb! In
+that mood he stayed thru the small hours of the morning, sitting on the
+bench clasping his girl in his arms, and wishing she would give a little
+more time to heeding his love-making, and less to making him recite his
+lessons.
+</p>
+<p>
+<br /><br />
+</p>
+<hr />
+<p>
+<a name="link2H_4_0044" id="link2H_4_0044"> </a>
+</p>
+<div style="height: 4em;">
+<br /><br /><br /><br />
+</div>
+<h2>
+Section 44
+</h2>
+<p>
+So the day began to break and the birds to sing. The sun rose on Peter&rsquo;s
+face gray with exhaustion and the Irish apples in Nell&rsquo;s cheeks badly
+faded. But the time for action had come, and Peter went off to watch
+McCormick&rsquo;s home until seven o&rsquo;clock, when the special delivery letter was
+due to arrive.
+</p>
+<p>
+It came on time, and Peter saw McCormick come out of the house and set
+forth in the direction of the studios. It was too early for the meeting,
+so Peter figured that he would stop to get his breakfast; and sure enough
+&ldquo;Mac&rdquo; turned into, a little dairy lunch, and Peter hastened to the nearest
+telephone and called his boss.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Mr. McGivney,&rdquo; he said, &ldquo;I lost those fellows last night, but now I got
+them again. They decided not to do anything till today. They&rsquo;re having a
+meeting this morning and we&rsquo;ve a chance to nab them all.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Where?&rdquo; demanded McGivney.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Room seventeen in the studios; but don&rsquo;t let any of your men go near
+there, till I make sure the right fellows are in.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Listen here, Peter Gudge!&rdquo; cried McGivney. &ldquo;Is this straight goods?&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;My God!&rdquo; cried Peter. &ldquo;What do you take me for? I tell you they&rsquo;ve got
+loads of dynamite.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;What have they done with it?&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;They&rsquo;ve got some in their headquarters. About the rest I dunno. They
+carried it off and I lost them last night. But then I found a note in my
+pocket&mdash;they were inviting me to come in.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;By God!&rdquo; exclaimed the rat-faced man.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;We&rsquo;ve got the whole thing, I tell you! Have you got your men ready?&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Yes.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Well then, have them come to the corner of Seventh and Washington
+Streets, and you come to Eighth and Washington. Meet me there just as
+quick as you can.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;I get you,&rdquo; was the answer, and Peter hung up, and rushed off to the
+appointed rendezvous. He was so nervous that he had to sit on the steps of
+a building. As time passed and McGivney didn&rsquo;t appear, wild imaginings
+began to torment him. Maybe McGivney hadn&rsquo;t understood him correctly! Or
+maybe his automobile might break down! Or his telephone might have got out
+of order at precisely the critical moment! He and his men would arrive too
+late, they would find the trap sprung, and the prey escaped.
+</p>
+<p>
+Ten minutes passed, fifteen minutes, twenty minutes. At last an automobile
+rushed up the street, and McGivney stepped out, and the automobile sped
+on. Peter got McGivney&rsquo;s eye, and then stepped back into the shelter of a
+doorway. McGivney followed. &ldquo;Have you got them?&rdquo; he cried.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;I d-d-dunno!&rdquo; chattered Peter. &ldquo;They s-s-said they were c-coming at
+eight!&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Let me see that note!&rdquo; commanded McGivney; so Peter pulled out one of
+Nell&rsquo;s notes which he had saved for himself:
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;If you really believe in a bold stroke for the workers&rsquo; rights, meet me
+in the studios, Room 17, tomorrow morning at eight o&rsquo;clock. No names and
+no talk. Action!&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;You found that in your pocket?&rdquo; demanded the other.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Y-yes, sir.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;And you&rsquo;ve no idea who put it there.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;N-no, but I think Joe Angell&mdash;&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+McGivney looked at his watch. &ldquo;You&rsquo;ve got twenty minutes yet,&rdquo; be said.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;You got the dicks?&rdquo; asked Peter.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;A dozen of them. What&rsquo;s your idea now?&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+Peter stammered out his suggestions. There was a little grocery store just
+across the street from the entrance to the studio building. Peter would go
+in there, and pretend to get something to eat, and would watch thru the
+window, and the moment he saw the right men come in, he would hurry out
+and signal to McGivney, who would be in a drugstore at the next corner.
+McGivney must keep out of sight himself, because the &ldquo;Reds&rdquo; knew him as
+one of Guffey&rsquo;s agents.
+</p>
+<p>
+It wasn&rsquo;t necessary to repeat anything twice. McGivney was keyed up and
+ready for business, and Peter hurried down the street, and stepped into
+the little grocery store without being observed by anyone. He ordered some
+crackers and cheese, and seated himself on a box by the window and
+pretended to eat. But his hands were trembling so that he could hardly get
+the food into his mouth; and this was just as well, because his mouth was
+dry with fright, and crackers and cheese are articles of diet not adapted
+to such a condition.
+</p>
+<p>
+He kept his eyes glued on the dingy doorway of the old studio building,
+and presently&mdash;hurrah!&mdash;he saw McCormick coming down the street!
+The Irish boy turned into the building, and a couple of minutes later came
+Gus the sailor, and before another five minutes had passed here came Joe
+Angell and Henderson. They were walking quickly, absorbed in conversation,
+and Peter could imagine he heard them talking about those mysterious
+notes, and who could be the writer, and what the devil could they mean?
+</p>
+<p>
+Peter was now wild with nervousness; he was afraid somebody in the grocery
+store would notice him, and he made desperate efforts to eat the crackers
+and cheese, and scattered the crumbs all over himself and over the floor.
+Should he wait for Jerry Rudd, or should he take those he had already? He
+had got up and started for the door, when he saw the last of his victims
+coming down the street. Jerry was walking slowly, and Peter couldn&rsquo;t wait
+until he got inside. A car was passing, and Peter took the chance to slip
+out and bolt for the drug store. Before he had got half way there McGivney
+had seen him, and was on the run to the next corner.
+</p>
+<p>
+Peter waited only long enough to see a couple of automobiles come whirling
+down the street, packed solid with husky detectives. Then he turned off
+and hurried down a side street. He managed to get a couple of blocks away,
+and then his nerves gave way entirely, and he sat down on the curbstone
+and began to cry&mdash;just the way little Jennie had cried when he told
+her he couldn&rsquo;t marry her! People stopped to stare at him, and one
+benevolent old gentleman came up and tapped him on the shoulder and asked
+what was the trouble. Peter, between his tear-stained fingers, gasped: &ldquo;My
+m-m-mother died!&rdquo; And so they let him alone, and after a while he got up
+and hurried off again.
+</p>
+<p>
+<br /><br />
+</p>
+<hr />
+<p>
+<a name="link2H_4_0045" id="link2H_4_0045"> </a>
+</p>
+<div style="height: 4em;">
+<br /><br /><br /><br />
+</div>
+<h2>
+Section 45
+</h2>
+<p>
+Peter was now in a state of utter funk. He knew that he would have to face
+McGivney, and he just couldn&rsquo;t do it. All he wanted was Nell; and Nell,
+knowing that he would want her, had agreed to be in the park at half past
+eight. She had warned him not to talk to a soul until he had talked to
+her. Meantime she had gone home and renewed her Irish roses with French
+rouge, and restored her energy with coffee and cigarettes, and now she was
+waiting for him, smiling serenely, as fresh as any bird or flower in the
+park that summer morning. She asked him in even tones how things had gone,
+and when Peter began to stammer that he didn&rsquo;t think he could face
+McGivney, she proceeded to build up his courage once more. She let him put
+his arms about her, even there in broad daylight; she whispered to him to
+get himself together, to be a man, and worthy of her.
+</p>
+<p>
+What had he to be afraid of, anyway? They hadn&rsquo;t a single thing on him,
+and there was no possible way they could get anything. His hands were
+clean all the way thru, and all he had to do was to stick it out; he must
+make up his mind in advance, that no matter what happened, he would never
+break down, he would never vary from the story he had rehearsed with her.
+She made him go over the story again; how on the previous evening, at the
+gathering in the I. W. W. headquarters, they had talked about killing
+Nelse Ackerman as a means of bringing the war to an end. And after the
+talk he had heard Joe Angell whisper to Jerry Rudd that he had the makings
+of a bomb already; he had a suit-case full of dynamite stored there in the
+closet, and he and Pat McCormick had been planning to pull off something
+that very night. Peter had gone out, but had watched outside, and had seen
+Angell, Henderson, Rudd and Gus come out. Peter had noticed that Angell&rsquo;s
+pockets were stuffed, and had assumed that they were going to do their
+dynamiting, so he had phoned to McGivney from the drug-store. By this
+phoning he had missed the crowd, and then he had been ashamed and afraid
+to tell McGivney, and had spent the night wandering in the park. But early
+in the morning he had found the note, and had understood that it must have
+been slipped into his pocket, and that the conspirators wanted him to come
+in on their scheme. That was all, except for three or four sentences or
+fragments of sentences which Peter had overheard between Joe Angell and
+Jerry Rudd. Nell made him learn these sentences by heart, and she insisted
+that he must not under any circumstances try to remember or be persuaded
+to remember anything further.
+</p>
+<p>
+At last Peter was adjudged ready for the ordeal, and went to Room 427 in
+the American House, and threw himself on the bed. He was so exhausted that
+once or twice he dozed; but then he would think of some new question that
+McGivney might ask him, and would start into wakefulness. At last he heard
+a key turn, and started up. There entered one of the detectives, a man
+named Hammett. &ldquo;Hello, Gudge,&rdquo; said he. &ldquo;The boss wants you to get
+arrested.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Arrested!&rdquo; exclaimed Peter. &ldquo;Good Lord!&rdquo; He had a sudden swift vision of
+himself shut up in a cell with those Reds, and forced to listen to &ldquo;hard
+luck stories.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Well,&rdquo; said Hammett, &ldquo;we&rsquo;re arresting all the Reds, and if we skip you,
+they&rsquo;ll be suspicious. You better go somewhere right away and get caught.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+Peter saw the wisdom of this, and after a little thought he chose the home
+of Miriam Yankovitch. She was a real Red, and didn&rsquo;t like him; but if he
+was arrested in her home, she would have to like him, and it would tend to
+make him &ldquo;solid&rdquo; with the &ldquo;left wingers.&rdquo; He gave the address to Hammett,
+and added, &ldquo;You better come as soon as you can, because she may kick me
+out of the house.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;That&rsquo;s all right,&rdquo; replied the other, with a laugh. &ldquo;Tell her the police
+are after you, and ask her to hide you.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+So Peter hurried over to the Jewish quarter of the city, and knocked on a
+door in the top story of a tenement house. The door was opened by a stout
+woman with her sleeves rolled up and her arms covered with soap-suds. Yes,
+Miriam was in. She was out of a job just now, said Mrs. Yankovitch. They
+had fired her because she talked Socialism. Miriam entered the room,
+giving the unexpected visitor a cold stare that said as plain as words:
+&ldquo;Jennie Todd!&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+But this changed at once when Peter told her that he had been to I. W. W.
+headquarters and found the police in charge. They had made a raid, and
+claimed to have discovered some kind of plot; fortunately Peter had seen
+the crowd outside, and had got away. Miriam took him into an inside room
+and asked him a hundred questions which he could not answer. He knew
+nothing, except that he had been to a meeting at headquarters the night
+before, and this morning he had gone there to get a book, and had seen the
+crowd and run.
+</p>
+<p>
+Half an hour later came a bang on the door, and Peter dived under the bed.
+The door was burst open, and he heard angry voices commanding, and
+vehement protests from Miriam and her mother. To judge from the sounds,
+the men began throwing the furniture this way and that; suddenly a hand
+came under the bed, and Peter was grabbed by the ankle, and hauled forth
+to confront four policemen in uniform.
+</p>
+<p>
+It was an awkward situation, because apparently these policemen hadn&rsquo;t
+been told that Peter was a spy; the boobs thought they were getting a real
+dynamiter! One grabbed each of Peter&rsquo;s wrists, and another kept him and
+Miriam covered with a revolver, while the fourth proceeded to go thru his
+pockets, looking for bombs. When they didn&rsquo;t find any, they seemed vexed,
+and shook him and hustled him about, and made clear they would be glad of
+some pretext to batter in his head. Peter was careful not to give them
+such a pretext; he was frightened and humble, and kept declaring that he
+didn&rsquo;t know anything, he hadn&rsquo;t done any harm.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;We&rsquo;ll see about that, young fellow!&rdquo; said the officer, as he snapped the
+handcuffs on Peter&rsquo;s wrists. Then, while one of them remained on guard
+with the revolver, the other three proceeded to ransack the place, pulling
+out the bureau-drawers and kicking the contents this way and that,
+grabbing every scrap of writing they could find and jamming it into a
+couple of suit-cases. There were books with red bindings and terrifying
+titles, but no bombs, and no weapons more dangerous than a carving knife
+and Miriam&rsquo;s tongue. The girl stood there with her black eyes flashing
+lightnings, and told the police exactly what she thought of them. She
+didn&rsquo;t know what had happened in the I. W. W. headquarters, but she knew
+that whatever it was, it was a frame-up, and she dared them to arrest her,
+and almost succeeded in her fierce purpose. However, the police contented
+themselves with kicking over the washtub and its contents, and took their
+departure, leaving Mrs. Yankovitch screaming in the midst of a flood.
+</p>
+<p>
+<br /><br />
+</p>
+<hr />
+<p>
+<a name="link2H_4_0046" id="link2H_4_0046"> </a>
+</p>
+<div style="height: 4em;">
+<br /><br /><br /><br />
+</div>
+<h2>
+Section 46
+</h2>
+<p>
+They dragged Peter out thru a swarming tenement crowd, and clapped him
+into an automobile, and whirled him away to police headquarters, where
+they entered him in due form and put him in a cell. He was uneasy right
+away, because he had failed to arrange with Hammett how long he was to
+stay locked up. But barely an hour had passed before a jailer came, and
+took him to a private room, where he found himself confronted by McGivney
+and Hammett, also the Chief of Police of the city, a deputy district
+attorney, and last but most important of all&mdash;Guffey. It was the head
+detective of the Traction Trust who took Peter in charge.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Now, Gudge,&rdquo; said he, &ldquo;what&rsquo;s this job you&rsquo;ve been putting up on us?&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+It struck Peter like a blow in the face. His heart went down, his jaw
+dropped, he stared like an idiot. Good God!
+</p>
+<p>
+But he remembered Nell&rsquo;s last solemn words: &ldquo;Stick it out, Peter; stick it
+out!&rdquo; So he cried: &ldquo;What do you mean, Mr. Guffey?&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Sit down in that chair there,&rdquo; said Guffey. &ldquo;Now, tell us what you know
+about this whole business. Begin at the beginning and tell us everything&mdash;every
+word.&rdquo; So Peter began. He had been at a meeting at the I. W. W.
+headquarters the previous evening. There had been a long talk about the
+inactivity of the organization, and what could be done to oppose the
+draft. Peter detailed the arguments, the discussion of violence, of
+dynamite and killing, the mention of Nelse Ackerman and the other
+capitalists who were to be put out of the way. He embellished all this,
+and exaggerated it greatly&mdash;it being the one place where Nell had
+said he could do no harm by exaggerating.
+</p>
+<p>
+Then he told how after the meeting had broken up he had noticed several of
+the men whispering among themselves. By pretending to be getting a book
+from the bookcase he had got close to Joe Angell and Jerry Rudd; he had
+heard various words and fragments of sentences, &ldquo;dynamite,&rdquo; &ldquo;suit-case in
+the cupboard,&rdquo; &ldquo;Nelse,&rdquo; and so on. And when the crowd went out he noticed
+that Angell&rsquo;s pockets were bulging, and assumed that he had the bombs, and
+that they were going to do the job. He rushed to the drug-store and phoned
+McGivney. It took a long time to get McGivney, and when he had given his
+message and run out again, the crowd was out of sight. Peter was in
+despair, he was ashamed to confront McGivney, he wandered about the
+streets for hours looking for the crowd. He spent the rest of the night in
+the park. But then in the morning he discovered the piece of paper in his
+pocket, and understood that somebody had slipped it to him, intending to
+invite him to the conspiracy; so he had notified McGivney, and that was
+all he knew.
+</p>
+<p>
+McGivney began to cross-question him. He had heard Joe Angell talking to
+Jerry Rudd; had he heard him talking to anybody else? Had he heard any of
+the others talking? Just what had he heard Joe Angell say? Peter must
+repeat every word all over. This time, as instructed by Nell, he
+remembered one sentence more, and repeated this sentence: &ldquo;Mac put it in
+the &lsquo;sab-cat.&rsquo;&rdquo; He saw the others exchange glances. &ldquo;That&rsquo;s just what I
+heard,&rdquo; said Peter&mdash;&ldquo;just those words. I couldn&rsquo;t figure out what
+they meant?&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Sab-cat?&rdquo; said the Chief of Police, a burly figure with a brown moustache
+and a quid of tobacco tucked in the corner of his mouth. &ldquo;That means
+‘sabotage,&rsquo; don&rsquo;t it?&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Yes,&rdquo; said the rat-faced man.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Do you know anything in the office that has to do with sabotage?&rdquo;
+ demanded Guffey of Peter.
+</p>
+<p>
+And Peter thought. &ldquo;No, I don&rsquo;t,&rdquo; he said.
+</p>
+<p>
+They talked among themselves for a minute or two. The Chief said they had
+got all McCormick&rsquo;s things out of his room, and might find some clue to
+the mystery in these. Guffey went to the telephone, and gave a number with
+which Peter was familiar&mdash;that of I. W. W. headquarters. &ldquo;That you,
+Al?&rdquo; he said. &ldquo;We&rsquo;re trying to find if there&rsquo;s something in those rooms
+that has to do with sabotage. Have you found anything&mdash;any apparatus
+or pictures, or writing&mdash;anything?&rdquo; Evidently the answer was in the
+negative, for Guffey said: &ldquo;Go ahead, look farther; if you get anything,
+call me at the chief&rsquo;s office quick. It may give us a lead.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+Then Guffey hung up the receiver and turned to Peter. &ldquo;Now Gudge,&rdquo; he
+said, &ldquo;that&rsquo;s all your story, is it; that&rsquo;s all you got to tell us?&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Yes, sir.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Well then, you might as well quit your fooling right away. We understand
+that you framed this thing up, and we&rsquo;re not going to be taken in.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+Peter stared at Guffey, speechless; and Guffey, for his part, took a
+couple of steps toward Peter, his brows gathering into a terrible frown,
+and his fists clenched. In a wave of sickening horror Peter remembered the
+scenes after the Preparedness Day explosion. Were they going to put him
+thru that again?
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;We&rsquo;ll have a show-down, Gudge, right here,&rdquo; the head detective continued.
+&ldquo;You tell us all this stuff about Angell&mdash;his talk with Jerry Rudd,
+and his pockets stuffed with bombs and all the rest of it&mdash;and he
+denies every word of it.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;But, m-m-my God! Mr. Guffey,&rdquo; gasped Peter. &ldquo;Of <i>course</i> he&rsquo;ll deny
+it!&rdquo; Peter could hardly believe his ears&mdash;that they were taking
+seriously the denial of a dynamiter, and quoting it to him!
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Yes, Gudge,&rdquo; responded Guffey, &ldquo;but you might as well know the truth now
+as later&mdash;Angell is one of our men; we&rsquo;ve had him planted on these
+‘wobblies&rsquo; for the last year.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+The bottom fell out of Peter&rsquo;s world; Peter went tumbling heels over head&mdash;down,
+down into infinite abysses of horror and despair. Joe Angell was a secret
+agent like himself! The Blue-eyed Angell, who talked dynamite and
+assassination at a hundred radical gatherings, who shocked the boldest
+revolutionists by his reckless language&mdash;Angell a spy, and Peter had
+proceeded to plant a &ldquo;frame-up&rdquo; on him!
+</p>
+<p>
+<br /><br />
+</p>
+<hr />
+<p>
+<a name="link2H_4_0047" id="link2H_4_0047"> </a>
+</p>
+<div style="height: 4em;">
+<br /><br /><br /><br />
+</div>
+<h2>
+Section 47
+</h2>
+<p>
+It was all up with Peter. He would go back into the hole! He would be
+tortured for the balance of his days! In his ears rang the shrieks of ten
+thousand lost souls and the clang of ten thousand trumpets of doom; and
+yet, in the midst of all the noise and confusion, Peter managed somehow to
+hear the voice of Nell, whispering over and over again: &ldquo;Stick it out,
+Peter; stick it out!&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+He flung out his hands and started toward his accuser. &ldquo;Mr. Guffey, as God
+is my witness, I don&rsquo;t know a thing about it but what I&rsquo;ve told you.
+That&rsquo;s what happened, and if Joe Angell tells you anything different he&rsquo;s
+lying.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;But why should he lie?&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;I don&rsquo;t know why; I don&rsquo;t know anything about it!&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+Here was where Peter reaped the advantage of his lifelong training as an
+intriguer. In the midst of all his fright and his despair, Peter&rsquo;s
+subconscious mind was working, thinking of schemes. &ldquo;Maybe Angell was
+framing something up on you! Maybe he was fixing some plan of his own, and
+I come along and spoiled it; I sprung it too soon. But I tell you it&rsquo;s
+straight goods I&rsquo;ve given you.&rdquo; And Peter&rsquo;s very anguish gave him the
+vehemence to check Guffey&rsquo;s certainty. As he rushed on, Peter could read
+in the eyes of the detective that he wasn&rsquo;t really as sure as he talked.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Did you see that suit-case?&rdquo; he demanded.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;No, I didn&rsquo;t see no suit-case!&rdquo; answered Peter. &ldquo;I don&rsquo;t even know if
+there was a suit-case. I only know I heard Joe Angell say &lsquo;suit-case,&rsquo; and
+I heard him say &lsquo;dynamite.&rsquo;&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Did you see anybody writing anything in the place?&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;No, I didn&rsquo;t,&rdquo; said Peter. &ldquo;But I seen Henderson sitting at the table
+working at some papers he had in his pocket, and I seen him tear something
+up and throw it into the trash-basket.&rdquo; Peter saw the others look at one
+another, and he knew that he was beginning to make headway.
+</p>
+<p>
+A moment later came a diversion that helped to save him. The telephone
+rang, and the Chief of Police answered and nodded to Guffey, who came and
+took the receiver. &ldquo;A book?&rdquo; he cried, with excitement in his tone. &ldquo;What
+sort of a plan? Well, tell one of your men to take the car and bring that
+book and the plan here to the chief&rsquo;s office as quick as he can move;
+don&rsquo;t lose a moment, everything may depend on it.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+And then Guffey turned to the others. &ldquo;He says they found a book on
+sabotage in the book-case, and in it there&rsquo;s some kind of a drawing of a
+house. The book has McCormick&rsquo;s name in it.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+There were many exclamations over this, and Peter had time to think before
+the company turned upon him again. The Chief of Police now questioned him,
+and then the deputy of the district attorney questioned him; still he
+stuck to his story. &ldquo;My God!&rdquo; he cried. &ldquo;Would you think I&rsquo;d be mad enough
+to frame up a job like this? Where&rsquo;d I get all that stuff? Where&rsquo;d I get
+that dynamite?&rdquo;&mdash;Peter almost bit off his tongue as he realized the
+dreadful slip he had made. No one had ever told him that the suit-case
+actually contained dynamite! How had he known there was dynamite in it? He
+was desperately trying to think of some way he could have heard; but, as
+it happened, no one of the five men caught him up. They all knew that
+there was dynamite in the suit-case; they knew it with overwhelming and
+tremendous certainty, and they overlooked entirely the fact that Peter
+wasn&rsquo;t supposed to know it. So close to the edge of ruin can a man come
+and yet escape!
+</p>
+<p>
+Peter made haste to get away from that danger-spot. &ldquo;Does Joe Angell deny
+that he was whispering to Jerry Rudd?&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;He doesn&rsquo;t remember that,&rdquo; said Guffey. &ldquo;He may have talked with him
+apart, but nothing special, there wasn&rsquo;t any conspiracy.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Does he deny that he talked about dynamite?&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;They may have talked about it in the general discussion, but he didn&rsquo;t
+whisper anything.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;But I heard him!&rdquo; cried Peter, whose quick wits had thought up a way of
+escape, &ldquo;I know what I heard! It was just before they were leaving, and
+somebody had turned out some of the lights. He was standing with his back
+to me, and I went over to the book-case right behind him.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+Here the deputy district attorney put in. He was a young man, a trifle
+easier to fool than the others. &ldquo;Are you sure it was Joe Angell?&rdquo; he
+demanded.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;My God! Of course it was!&rdquo; said Peter. &ldquo;I couldn&rsquo;t have been mistaken.&rdquo;
+ But he let his voice die away, and a note of bewilderment be heard in it.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;You say he was whispering?&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Yes, he was whispering.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;But mightn&rsquo;t it have been somebody else?&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Why, I don&rsquo;t know what to say,&rdquo; said Peter. &ldquo;I thought for sure it was
+Joe Angell; but I had my back turned, I&rsquo;d been talking to Grady, the
+secretary, and then I turned around and moved over to the book-case.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;How many men were there in the room?&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;About twenty, I guess.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Were the lights turned off before you turned around, or after?&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;I don&rsquo;t remember that; it might have been after.&rdquo; And suddenly poor
+bewildered Peter cried: &ldquo;It makes me feel like a fool. Of course I ought
+to have talked to the fellow, and made sure it was Joe Angell before I
+turned away again; but I thought sure it was him. The idea it could be
+anybody else never crossed my mind.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;But you&rsquo;re sure it was Jerry Rudd that was talking to him?&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Yes, it was Jerry Rudd, because his face was toward me.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Was it Rudd or was it the other fellow that made the reply about the
+‘sab-cat&rsquo;?&rdquo; And then Peter was bewildered and tied himself up, and led
+them into a long process of cross-questioning; and in the middle of it
+came the detective, bringing the book on sabotage with McCormick&rsquo;s name
+written in the fly-leaf, and with the ground plan of a house between the
+pages.
+</p>
+<p>
+They all crowded around to look at the plan, and the idea occurred to
+several of them at once: Could it be Nelse Ackerman&rsquo;s house? The Chief of
+Police turned to his phone, and called up the great banker&rsquo;s secretary.
+Would he please describe Mr. Ackerman&rsquo;s house; and the chief listened to
+the description. &ldquo;There&rsquo;s a cross mark on this plan&mdash;the north side
+of the house, a little to the west of the center. What could that be?&rdquo;
+ Then, &ldquo;My God!&rdquo; And then, &ldquo;Will you come down here to my office right away
+and bring the architect&rsquo;s plan of the house so we can compare them?&rdquo; The
+Chief turned to the others, and said, &ldquo;That cross mark in the house is the
+sleeping porch on the second floor where Mr. Ackerman sleeps!&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+So then they forgot for a while their doubts about Peter. It was
+fascinating, this work of tracing out the details of the conspiracy, and
+fitting them together like a picture puzzle. It seemed quite certain to
+all of them that this insignificant and scared little man whom they had
+been examining could never have prepared so ingenious and intricate a
+design. No, it must really be that some master mind, some devilish
+intriguer was at work to spread red ruin in American City!
+</p>
+<p>
+<br /><br />
+</p>
+<hr />
+<p>
+<a name="link2H_4_0048" id="link2H_4_0048"> </a>
+</p>
+<div style="height: 4em;">
+<br /><br /><br /><br />
+</div>
+<h2>
+Section 48
+</h2>
+<p>
+They dismissed Peter for the present, sending him back to his cell. He
+stayed there for two days with no one to advise him, and no hint as to his
+fate. They did not allow newspapers in the jail, but they had left Peter
+his money, and so on the second day he succeeded in bribing one of his
+keepers and obtaining a copy of the American City &ldquo;Times,&rdquo; with all the
+details of the amazing sensation spread out on the front page.
+</p>
+<p>
+For thirty years the &ldquo;Times&rdquo; had been standing for law and order against
+all the forces of red riot and revolution; for thirty years the &ldquo;Times&rdquo;
+ had been declaring that labor leaders and walking delegates and Socialists
+and Anarchists were all one and the same thing, and all placed their
+reliance fundamentally upon one instrument, the dynamite bomb. Here at
+last the &ldquo;Times&rdquo; was vindicated, this was the &ldquo;Times&rdquo; great day! They had
+made the most of it, not merely on the front page, but on two other pages,
+with pictures of all the conspicuous conspirators, including Peter, and
+pictures of the I. W. W. headquarters, and the suit-case, and the sticks
+of dynamite and the fuses and the clock; also of the &ldquo;studio&rdquo; in which the
+Reds had been trapped, and of Nikitin, the Russian anarchist who owned
+this den. Also there were columns of speculation about the case, signed
+statements and interviews with leading clergymen and bankers, the
+president of the Chamber of Commerce and the secretary of the Real Estate
+Exchange. Also there was a two-column, double-leaded editorial, pointing
+out how the &ldquo;Times&rdquo; had been saying this for thirty years, and not failing
+to connect up the case with the Goober case, and the Lackman case, and the
+case of three pacifist clergymen who had been arrested several days before
+for attempting to read the Sermon on the Mount at a public meeting.
+</p>
+<p>
+And Peter knew that he, Peter Gudge, had done all this! The forces of law
+and order owed it all to one obscure little secret service agent! Peter
+would get no credit, of course; the Chief of Police and the district
+attorney were issuing solemn statements, taking the honors to themselves,
+and with never one hint that they owed anything to the secret service
+department of the Traction Trust. That was necessary, of course; for the
+sake of appearances it had to be pretended that the public authorities
+were doing the work, exercising their legal functions in due and regular
+form. It would never do to have the mob suspect that these activities were
+being financed and directed by the big business interests of the city. But
+all the same, it made Peter sore! He and McGivney and the rest of Guffey&rsquo;s
+men had a contempt for the public officials, whom they regarded as
+&ldquo;pikers&rdquo;; the officials had very little money to spend, and very little
+power. If you really wanted to get anything done in America, you didn&rsquo;t go
+to any public official, you went to the big men of affairs, the ones who
+had the &ldquo;stuff,&rdquo; and were used to doing things quickly and efficiently. It
+was the same in this business of spying as in everything else.
+</p>
+<p>
+Now and then Peter would realize how close he had come to ghastly ruin. He
+would have qualms of terror, picturing himself shut up in the hole, and
+Guffey proceeding to torture the truth out of him. But he was able to calm
+these fears. He was sure this dynamite conspiracy would prove too big a
+temptation for the authorities; it would sweep them away in spite of
+themselves. They would have to go thru with it, they would have to stand
+by Peter.
+</p>
+<p>
+And sure enough, on the evening of the second day a jailer came and said:
+&ldquo;You&rsquo;re to be let out.&rdquo; And Peter was ushered thru the barred doors and
+turned loose without another word.
+</p>
+<p>
+<br /><br />
+</p>
+<hr />
+<p>
+<a name="link2H_4_0049" id="link2H_4_0049"> </a>
+</p>
+<div style="height: 4em;">
+<br /><br /><br /><br />
+</div>
+<h2>
+Section 49
+</h2>
+<p>
+Peter went to Room 427 of the American House and there was McGivney
+waiting for him. McGivney said nothing about any suspicion of Peter, nor
+did Peter say anything&mdash;he understood that by-gones were to be
+by-gones. The authorities were going to take this gift which the fates had
+handed to them on a silver platter. For years they had been wanting to get
+these Reds, and now magically and incredibly, they had got them!
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Now, Gudge,&rdquo; said McGivney, &ldquo;here&rsquo;s your story. You&rsquo;ve been arrested on
+suspicion, you&rsquo;ve been cross-questioned and put thru the third degree, but
+you succeeded in satisfying the police that you didn&rsquo;t know anything about
+it, and they&rsquo;ve released you. We&rsquo;ve released a couple of others at the
+same time, so&rsquo;s to cover you all right; and now you&rsquo;re to go back and find
+out all you can about the Reds, and what they&rsquo;re doing, and what they&rsquo;re
+planning. They&rsquo;re shouting, of course, that this is a &lsquo;frame-up.&rsquo; You must
+find out what they know. You must be careful, of course&mdash;watch every
+step you take, because they&rsquo;ll be suspicious for a while. We&rsquo;ve been to
+your room and turned things upside down a bit, so that will help to make
+it look all right.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+Peter sallied forth; but he did not go to see the Reds immediately. He
+spent an hour dodging about the city to make sure no one was shadowing
+him; then he called up Nell at a telephone number she had given him, and
+an hour later they met in the park, and she flew to his arms and kissed
+him with rapturous delight. He had to tell her everything, of course; and
+when she learned that Joe Angell was a secret agent, she first stared at
+him in horror, and then she laughed until she almost cried. When Peter
+told how he had met that situation and got away with it, for the first
+time he was sure that he had won her love.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Now, Peter,&rdquo; she said, when they were calm again, we&rsquo;ve got to get action
+at once. The papers are full of it, and old Nelse Ackerman must be scared
+out of his life. Here&rsquo;s a letter I&rsquo;m going to mail tonight&mdash;you
+notice I&rsquo;ve used a different typewriter from the one I used last time. I
+went into a typewriter store, and paid them to let me use one for a few
+minutes, so they can never trace this letter to me.
+</p>
+<p>
+The letter was addressed to Nelson Ackerman at his home, and marked
+&ldquo;Personal.&rdquo; Peter read:
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;This is a message from a friend. The Reds had an agent in your home. They
+drew a plan of your house. The police are hiding things from you, because
+they can&rsquo;t get the truth, and don&rsquo;t want you to know they are incompetent.
+There is a man who discovered all this plot, and you should see him. They
+won&rsquo;t let you see him if they can help it. You should demand to see him.
+But do not mention this letter. If you do not get to the right man, I will
+write you again. If you keep this a secret, you may trust me to help you
+to the end. If you tell anybody, I will be unable to help you.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Now,&rdquo; said Nell, &ldquo;when he gets that letter he&rsquo;ll get busy, and you&rsquo;ve got
+to know what to do, because of course everything depends on that.&rdquo; So Nell
+proceeded to drill Peter for his meeting with the King of American City.
+Peter now stood in such awe of her judgment that he learned his lessons
+quite patiently, and promised solemnly that he would do exactly what she
+said and nothing else. He reaped his reward of kisses, and went home to
+sleep the sleep of the just.
+</p>
+<p>
+Next morning Peter set out to do some of his work for McGivney, so that
+McGivney would have no ground for complaint. He went to see Miriam
+Yankovich, and this time Miriam caught him by his two hands and wrung
+them, and Peter knew that he had atoned for his crime against little
+Jennie. Peter was a martyr once more. He told how he had been put thru the
+third degree; and she told how the water from the washtub had leaked thru
+the ceiling, and the plaster had fallen, and ruined the dinner of a poor
+workingman&rsquo;s family.
+</p>
+<p>
+Also, she told him all about the frame-up as the Reds saw it. Andrews, the
+lawyer, was demanding the right to see the prisoners, but this was
+refused, and they were all being held without bail. On the previous
+evening Miriam had attended a gathering at Andrews&rsquo; home, at which the
+case was talked out. All the I. W. W.&lsquo;s declared that the thing was the
+rankest kind of frame-up; the notes were obviously fake, and the dynamite
+had undoubtedly been planted by the police. They had used it as a pretext
+to shut up the I. W. W. headquarters, and to arrest a score of radicals.
+Worst of all, of course, was the propaganda; the hideous stories with
+which they were filling the papers. Had Peter seen this morning&rsquo;s &ldquo;Times?&rdquo;
+ A perfectly unmistakable incitement to mobs to gather and lynch the Reds!
+</p>
+<p>
+<br /><br />
+</p>
+<hr />
+<p>
+<a name="link2H_4_0050" id="link2H_4_0050"> </a>
+</p>
+<div style="height: 4em;">
+<br /><br /><br /><br />
+</div>
+<h2>
+Section 50
+</h2>
+<p>
+From Miriam&rsquo;s, Peter went back to Room 427. It was Nell&rsquo;s idea that Nelse
+Ackerman would not lose a minute next morning; and sure enough, Peter
+found a note on the dressing-table: &ldquo;Wait for me, I want to see you.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+Peter waited, and before long McGivney came in and sat down in front of
+him, and began very solemnly: &ldquo;Now Peter Gudge, you know I&rsquo;m your friend.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Yes, of course.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;I&rsquo;ve stood by you,&rdquo; said McGivney. &ldquo;If it hadn&rsquo;t been for me, the boss
+would have had you in the hole right now, trying to sweat you into
+confessing you planted that dynamite. I want you to know that, and I want
+you to know that I&rsquo;m going to stand by you, and I expect you to stand by
+me and give me a square deal.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Why, sure!&rdquo; said Peter. &ldquo;What is it?&rdquo; Then McGivney proceeded to explain:
+Old Nelse Ackerman had got the idea that the police were holding back
+something from him. He was scared out of his wits about this case, of
+course. He had himself shut up in a cupboard at night, and made his wife
+pull down the curtains of her limousine when she went driving. And now he
+was insisting that he must have a talk with the man who had discovered
+this plot against him. McGivney hated to take the risk of having Peter
+become acquainted with anybody, but Nelse Ackerman was a man whose word
+was law. Really, he was Peter&rsquo;s employer; he had put up a lot of the money
+for the secret service work which Guffey was conducting, and neither
+Guffey or any of the city authorities dared try to fool him.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Well, that&rsquo;s all right,&rdquo; said Peter; &ldquo;it won&rsquo;t hurt for me to see him.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;He&rsquo;s going to question you about this case,&rdquo; said McGivney. &ldquo;He&rsquo;s going
+to try to find out everything he can. So you got to protect us; you got to
+make him understand that we&rsquo;ve done everything possible. You got to put us
+right with him.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+Peter promised solemnly he would do so; but McGivney wasn&rsquo;t satisfied. He
+was in a state of trepidation, and proceeded to hammer and hammer at
+Peter, impressing upon him the importance of solidarity, of keeping faith
+with his fellows. It sounded exactly like some of the I. W. W.&lsquo;s talking
+among themselves!
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;You may think, here&rsquo;s a chance to jump on us and climb out on top, but
+don&rsquo;t you forget it, Peter Gudge, we&rsquo;ve got a machine, and in the long run
+it&rsquo;s the machine that wins. We&rsquo;ve broken many a fellow that&rsquo;s tried to
+play tricks on us, and we&rsquo;ll break you. Old Nelse will get what he wants
+out of you; he&rsquo;ll offer you a big price, no doubt&mdash;but before long
+he&rsquo;ll be thru with you, and then you&rsquo;ll come back to us, and I give you
+fair warning, by God, if you play us dirty, Guffey will have you in the
+hole in a month or two, and you&rsquo;ll come out on a stretcher.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+So Peter pledged his faith again; but, seeing his chance, he added: &ldquo;Don&rsquo;t
+you think Mr. Guffey ought to do something for me, because of that plot I
+discovered?&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Yes, I think that,&rdquo; said McGivney; &ldquo;that&rsquo;s only fair.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+And so they proceeded to bargain. Peter pointed out all the dangers he had
+run, and all the credit which the others had got. Guffey hadn&rsquo;t got credit
+in the papers, but he had got it with his employers, all right, and he
+would get still more if Peter stood by him with the king of American City.
+Peter said it ought to be worth a thousand dollars, and he said he ought
+to have it right away, before he went to see the king. At which Guffey
+scowled ferociously. &ldquo;Look here, Gudge! you got the nerve to charge us
+such a price for standing by your frame-up?&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+McGivney generally treated Peter as a coward and a feeble bluffer; but he
+had learned also that there was one time when the little man completely
+changed his nature, and that was when it was a question of getting hold of
+some cash. That was the question now; and Peter met McGivney scowl for
+scowl. &ldquo;If you don&rsquo;t like my frame-up,&rdquo; he snarled, &ldquo;you go kick to the
+newspapers about it!&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+Peter was the bulldog again, and had got his teeth in the other bulldog&rsquo;s
+nose, and he hung right there. He had seen the rat-faced man pull money
+out of his clothes before this, and he knew that this time, above all
+other times, McGivney would come prepared. So he insisted&mdash;a thousand
+or nothing; and as before, his heart went down into his boots when
+McGivney produced his wad, and revealed that there was more in the wad
+than Peter had demanded!
+</p>
+<p>
+However, Peter consoled himself with the reflection that a thousand
+dollars was a tidy sum of money, and he set out for the home of Nelse
+Ackerman in a jovial frame of mind. Incidentally he decided that it might
+be the part of wisdom not to say anything to Nell about this extra
+thousand. When women found out that you had money, they&rsquo;d never rest till
+they had got every cent of it, or at least had made you spend it on them!
+</p>
+<p>
+<br /><br />
+</p>
+<hr />
+<p>
+<a name="link2H_4_0051" id="link2H_4_0051"> </a>
+</p>
+<div style="height: 4em;">
+<br /><br /><br /><br />
+</div>
+<h2>
+Section 51
+</h2>
+<p>
+Nelse Ackerman&rsquo;s home was far out in the suburbs of the city, upon a knoll
+surrounded by forest. It was a couple of miles from the nearest trolley
+line, which forced Peter to take a hot walk in the sun. Apparently the
+great banker, in selecting the site of his residence, had never once
+thought that anybody might want to get to it without an automobile. Peter
+reflected as he walked that if he continued to move in these higher
+circles, he too would have to join the motor-driving class.
+</p>
+<p>
+About the estate there ran a great bronze fence, ten feet high, with
+sharp, inhospitable spikes pointing outwards. Peter had read about this
+fence a long time ago in the American City &ldquo;Times&rdquo;; it was so and so many
+thousand yards long, and had so and so many spikes, and had cost so and so
+many tens of thousands of dollars. There were big bronze gates locked
+tight, and a sign that said: &ldquo;Beware the dogs!&rdquo; Inside the gates were
+three guards carrying rifles and walking up and down; they were a
+consequence of the recent dynamite conspiracy, but Peter did not realize
+this, he took them for a regular institution, and a symbol of the
+importance of the man he was to visit.
+</p>
+<p>
+He pressed a button by the side of the gate, and a lodgekeeper came out,
+and Peter, according to orders, gave the name &ldquo;Arthur G. McGillicuddy.&rdquo;
+ The lodge-keeper went inside and telephoned, and then came back and opened
+the gate, just enough to admit Peter. &ldquo;You&rsquo;re to be searched,&rdquo; said the
+lodge-keeper; and Peter, who had been arrested many times, took no offense
+at this procedure, but found it one more evidence of the importance of
+Nelse Ackerman. The guards went thru his pockets, and felt him all over,
+and then one of them marched him up the long gravel avenue thru the
+forest, climbed a flight of marble steps to the palace on the knoll, and
+turned him over to a Chinese butler who walked on padded slippers.
+</p>
+<p>
+If Peter had not known that this was a private home he would have thought
+it was an art gallery. There were great marble columns, and paintings
+bigger than Peter, and tapestries with life-size horses; there were men in
+armor, and battle axes and Japanese dancing devils, and many other strange
+sights. Ordinarily Peter would have been interested in learning how a
+great millionaire decorated his house, and would have drunk deep of the
+joy of being amid such luxury. But now all his thoughts were taken up with
+his dangerous business. Nell had told him what to look for, and he looked.
+Mounting the velvet-carpeted staircase, he noted a curtain behind which a
+man might hide, and a painting of a Spanish cavalier on the wall just
+opposite. He would make use of these two sights.
+</p>
+<p>
+They went down a hall, like a corridor in the Hotel de Soto, and at the
+end of it the butler tapped softly upon a door, and Peter was ushered into
+a big apartment in semi-darkness. The butler retired without a sound,
+closing the door behind him and Peter stood hesitating, looking about to
+get his bearings. From the other side of the room he heard three faint
+coughs, suggesting a sick man. There was a four-poster bed of some dark
+wood, with a canopy over it and draperies at the side, and a man in the
+bed, sitting propped up with pillows. There were more coughs, and then a
+faint whisper, &ldquo;This way.&rdquo; So Peter crossed over and stood about ten feet
+from the bed, holding his hat in his hands; he was not able to see very
+much of the occupant of the bed, nor was he sure it would be respectful
+for him to try to see.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;So you&rsquo;re&mdash;(cough) what&rsquo;s your name?&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Gudge,&rdquo; said Peter.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;You are the man&mdash;(cough) that knows about the Reds?&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Yes, sir.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+The occupant of the bed coughed every two or three minutes thru the
+conversation that followed, and each time Peter noticed that he put his
+hand up to his mouth as if he were ashamed of the noise. Gradually Peter
+got used to the twilight, and could see that Nelse Ackerman was an old man
+with puffy, droopy cheeks and chin, and dark puffy crescents under his
+eyes. He was quite bald, and had on his head a skull cap of embroidered
+black silk, and a short, embroidered jacket over his night shirt. Beside
+the bed stood a table covered with glasses and bottles and pill-boxes, and
+also a telephone. Every few minutes this telephone would ring, and Peter
+would wait patiently while Mr. Ackerman settled some complex problem of
+business. &ldquo;I&rsquo;ve told them my terms,&rdquo; he would say with irritation, and
+then he would cough; and Peter, who was sharply watching every detail of
+the conduct of the rich, noted that he was too polite even to cough into
+the telephone. &ldquo;If they will pay a hundred and twenty-five thousand
+dollars on account, I will wait, but not a cent less,&rdquo; Nelse Ackerman
+would say. And Peter, awe-stricken, realized that he had now reached the
+very top of Mount Olympus, he was at the highest point he could hope to
+reach until he went to heaven.
+</p>
+<p>
+The old man fixed his dark eyes on his visitor. &ldquo;Who wrote me that
+letter?&rdquo; whispered the husky voice.
+</p>
+<p>
+Peter had been expecting this. &ldquo;What letter, sir?&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;A letter telling me to see you.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;I don&rsquo;t know anything about it, sir.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;You mean&mdash;(cough) you didn&rsquo;t write me an anonynious letter?&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;No, sir, I didn&rsquo;t.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Then some friend of yours must have written it.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;I dunno that. It might have been some enemy of the police.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Well, now, what&rsquo;s this about the Reds having an agent in my home?&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Did the letter say that?&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;It did.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Well, sir, that&rsquo;s putting it too strong. I ain&rsquo;t sure, it&rsquo;s just an idea
+I&rsquo;ve had. It&rsquo;ll need a lot of explaining.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;You&rsquo;re the man who discovered this plot, I understand?&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Yes, sir.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Well, take a chair, there,&rdquo; said the banker. There was a chair near the
+bedside, but it seemed to Peter too close to be respectful, so he pulled
+it a little farther away, and sat down on the front six inches of it,
+still holding his hat in his hands and twisting it nervously. &ldquo;Put down
+that hat,&rdquo; said the old man, irritably. So Peter stuck the hat under his
+chair, and said: &ldquo;I beg pardon, sir.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+<br /><br />
+</p>
+<hr />
+<p>
+<a name="link2H_4_0052" id="link2H_4_0052"> </a>
+</p>
+<div style="height: 4em;">
+<br /><br /><br /><br />
+</div>
+<h2>
+Section 52
+</h2>
+<p>
+The old plutocrat was feeble and sick, but his mind was all there, and his
+eyes seemed to be boring Peter through. Peter realized that he would have
+to be very careful&mdash;the least little slip would be fatal here.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Now, Gudge,&rdquo; the old man began, &ldquo;I want you to tell me all about it. To
+begin with, how did you come to be among these Reds? Begin at the
+beginning.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+So Peter told how he had happened to get interested in the radical
+movement, laying particular stress upon the dangerousness of these Reds,
+and his own loyalty to the class which stood for order and progress and
+culture in the country. &ldquo;It ought to be stopped, Mr. Ackerman!&rdquo; he
+exclaimed, with a fine show of feeling; and the old banker nodded. Yes,
+yes, it ought to be stopped!
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Well,&rdquo; said Peter, &ldquo;I said to myself, &lsquo;I&rsquo;m going to find out about them
+fellows.&rsquo; I went to their meetings, and little by little I pretended to
+get converted, and I tell you, Mr. Ackerman, our police are asleep; they
+don&rsquo;t know what these agitators are doing, what they&rsquo;re preaching. They
+don&rsquo;t know what a hold they&rsquo;ve got on the mobs of the discontented!&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+Peter went on to tell in detail about the propaganda of social revolution,
+and about conspiracies against law and order, and the property and even
+the lives of the rich. Peter noticed that when the old man took a sip of
+water his hand trembled so that he could hardly keep the water from
+spilling; and presently, when the phone rang again, his voice became
+shrill and imperious. &ldquo;I understand they&rsquo;re applying for bail for those
+men. Now Angus, that&rsquo;s an outrage! We&rsquo;ll not hear to anything like that! I
+want you to see the judge at once, and make absolutely certain that those
+men are held in jail.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+Then again the old banker had a coughing fit. &ldquo;Now, Gudge,&rdquo; he said, &ldquo;I
+know more or less about all that. What I want to know is about this
+conspiracy against me. Tell me how you came to find out about it.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+And Peter told; but of course he embellished it, in so far as it related
+to Mr. Ackerman&mdash;these fellows were talking about Mr. Ackerman all
+the time, they had a special grudge against him.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;But why?&rdquo; cried the old man. &ldquo;Why?&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;They think you&rsquo;re fighting them, Mr. Ackerman.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;But I&rsquo;m not! That&rsquo;s not true!&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Well, they say you put up money to hang Goober. They call you&mdash;you&rsquo;ll
+excuse me?&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Yes, yes, of course.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;They call you the &lsquo;head money devil.&rsquo; They call you the financial king of
+American City.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;King!&rdquo; cried the banker. &ldquo;What rubbish! Why, Gudge, that&rsquo;s fool newspaper
+talk! I&rsquo;m a poor man today. There are two dozen men in this city richer
+than I am, and who have more power. Why&mdash;&rdquo; But the old man fell to
+coughing and became so exhausted that he sank back into his pillows until
+he recovered his breath. Peter waited respectfully; but of course he
+wasn&rsquo;t fooled. Peter had carried on bargaining many times in his life, and
+had heard people proclaim their poverty and impotence.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Now, Gudge,&rdquo; the old man resumed. &ldquo;I don&rsquo;t want to be killed; I tell you
+I don&rsquo;t want to be killed.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;No, of course not,&rdquo; said Peter. It was perfectly comprehensible to him
+that Mr. Ackerman didn&rsquo;t want to be killed. But Mr. Ackerman seemed to
+think it necessary to impress the idea upon him; in the course of the
+conversation he came back to it a number of times, and each time he said
+it with the same solemn assurance, as if it were a brand new idea, and a
+very unusual and startling idea. &ldquo;I don&rsquo;t want to be killed, Gudge; I tell
+you I don&rsquo;t want to let those fellows get me. No, no; we&rsquo;ve got to
+circumvent them, we&rsquo;ve got to take precautions&mdash;every precaution&mdash;I
+tell you every possible precaution.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;I&rsquo;m here for that purpose, Mr. Ackerman,&rdquo; said Peter, solemnly. &ldquo;I&rsquo;ll do
+everything. We&rsquo;ll do everything, I&rsquo;m sure.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;What&rsquo;s this about the police?&rdquo; demanded the banker. &ldquo;What&rsquo;s this about
+Guffey&rsquo;s bureau? You say they&rsquo;re not competent?&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Well now, I&rsquo;ll tell you, Mr. Ackerman,&rdquo; said Peter, &ldquo;It&rsquo;s a little
+embarrassing. You see, they employ me&mdash;&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Nonsense!&rdquo; exclaimed the other. &ldquo;<i>I</i> employ you! I&rsquo;m putting up the
+money for this work, and I want the facts!&mdash;I want them all.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Well,&rdquo; said Peter, &ldquo;they&rsquo;ve been very decent to me&mdash;&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;I say tell me everything!&rdquo; exclaimed the old man. He was a most irritable
+old man, and couldn&rsquo;t stand for a minute not having what he asked for.
+&ldquo;What&rsquo;s the matter with them?&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+Peter answered, as humbly as he could: &ldquo;I could tell you a great deal
+that&rsquo;d be of use to you, Mr. Ackerman, but you got to keep it between you
+and me.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;All right!&rdquo; said the other, quickly. &ldquo;What is it?&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;If you give a hint of it to anybody else,&rdquo; persisted Peter, &ldquo;then I&rsquo;ll
+get fired.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;You&rsquo;ll not get fired, I&rsquo;ll see to that. If necessary I&rsquo;ll hire you
+direct.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Ah, but you don&rsquo;t understand, Mr. Ackerman. It&rsquo;s a machine, and you can&rsquo;t
+run against it; you gotta understand it, you gotta handle it right. I&rsquo;d
+like to help you, and I know I can help you, but you gotta let me explain
+it, and you gotta understand some things.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;All right,&rdquo; said the old man. &ldquo;Go ahead, what is it?&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Now,&rdquo; said Peter, &ldquo;it&rsquo;s like this. These police and all these fellows
+mean well, but they don&rsquo;t understand; it&rsquo;s too complicated, they ain&rsquo;t
+been in this movement long enough. They&rsquo;re used to dealing with criminals;
+but these Reds, you see, are cranks. Criminals ain&rsquo;t organized, at least
+they don&rsquo;t stand together; but these Reds do, and if you fight &lsquo;em, they
+fight back, and they make what they call &lsquo;propaganda.&rsquo; And that propaganda
+is dangerous&mdash;if you make a wrong move, you may find you&rsquo;ve made &lsquo;em
+stronger than they were before.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Yes, I see that,&rdquo; said the old man. &ldquo;Well?&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Then again, the police dunno how dangerous they are. You try to tell them
+things, they won&rsquo;t really believe you. I&rsquo;ve known for a long time there
+was a group of these people getting together to kill off all the rich men,
+the big men all over the country. They&rsquo;ve been spying on these rich men,
+getting ready to kill them. They know a lot about them that you can&rsquo;t
+explain their knowing. That&rsquo;s how I got the idea they had somebody in your
+house, Mr. Ackerman.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Tell me what you mean. Tell me at once.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Well, sir, every once in a while I pick up scraps of conversation. One
+day I heard Mac&mdash;&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Mac?&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;That&rsquo;s McCormick, the one who&rsquo;s in jail. He&rsquo;s an I. W. W. leader, and I
+think the most dangerous of all. I heard him whispering to another fellow,
+and it scared me, because it had to do with killing a rich man. He&rsquo;d been
+watching this rich man, and said he was going to shoot him down right in
+his own house! I didn&rsquo;t hear the name of the man&mdash;I walked away,
+because I didn&rsquo;t want him to think I was trying to listen in. They&rsquo;re
+awful suspicious, these fellows; if you watch Mac you see him looking
+around over his shoulder every minute or two. So I strolled off, and then
+I strolled back again, and he was laughing about something, and I heard
+him say these words; I heard him say, &lsquo;I was hiding behind the curtain,
+and there was a Spanish fellow painted on the wall, and every time I
+peeked out that bugger was looking at me, and I wondered if he wasn&rsquo;t
+going to give me away.&rsquo;&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+And Peter stopped. His eyes had got used to the twilight now, and he could
+see the old banker&rsquo;s eyes starting out from the crescents of dark, puffy
+flesh underneath. &ldquo;My God!&rdquo; whispered Nelse Ackerman.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Now, that was all I heard,&rdquo; said Peter. &ldquo;And I didn&rsquo;t know what it meant.
+But when I learned about that drawing that Mac had made of your house, I
+thought to myself, Jesus, I bet that was Mr. Ackerman he was waiting to
+shoot!&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Good God! Good God!&rdquo; whispered the old man; and his trembling fingers
+pulled at the embroidery on the coverlet. The telephone rang, and he took
+up the receiver, and told somebody he was too busy now to talk; they would
+have to call him later. He had another coughing spell, so that Peter
+thought he was going to choke, and had to help him get some medicine down
+his throat. Peter was a little bit shocked to see such obvious and abject
+fear in one of the gods. After all, they were just men, these Olympians,
+as much subject to pain and death as Peter Gudge himself!
+</p>
+<p>
+Also Peter was surprised to find how &ldquo;easy&rdquo; Mr. Ackerman was. He made no
+lofty pretence of being indifferent to the Reds. He put himself at Peter&rsquo;s
+mercy, to be milked at Peter&rsquo;s convenience. And Peter would make the most
+of this opportunity.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Now, Mr. Ackerman,&rdquo; he began, &ldquo;You can see it wouldn&rsquo;t be any use to tell
+things like that to the police. They dunno how to handle such a situation;
+the honest truth is, they don&rsquo;t take these Reds serious. They&rsquo;ll spend ten
+times as much money to catch a plain burglar as they will to watch a whole
+gang like this.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;How can they have got into my home?&rdquo; cried the old man.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;They get in by ways you&rsquo;d never dream of, Mr. Ackerman. They have people
+who agree with them. Why, you got no idea, there&rsquo;s some preachers that are
+Reds, and some college teachers, and some rich men like yourself.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;I know, I know,&rdquo; said Ackerman. &ldquo;But surely&mdash;&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;How can you tell? You may have a traitor right in your own family.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+So Peter went on, spreading the Red Terror in the soul of this old
+millionaire who did not want to be killed. He said again that he did not
+want to be killed, and explained his reluctance in some detail. So many
+people were dependent upon him for their livings, Peter could have no
+conception of it! There were probably a hundred thousand men with their
+families right here in American City, whose jobs depended upon plans which
+Ackerman was carrying, and which nobody but Ackerman could possibly carry.
+Widows and orphans looked to him for protection of their funds; a vast
+net-work of responsibilities required his daily, even his hourly
+decisions. And sure enough, the telephone rang, and Peter heard Nelse
+Ackerman declare that the Amalgamated Securities Company would have to put
+off a decision about its dividends until tomorrow, because he was too busy
+to sign certain papers just then. He hung up the receiver and said: &ldquo;You
+see, you see! I tell you, Gudge, we must not let them get me!&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+<br /><br />
+</p>
+<hr />
+<p>
+<a name="link2H_4_0053" id="link2H_4_0053"> </a>
+</p>
+<div style="height: 4em;">
+<br /><br /><br /><br />
+</div>
+<h2>
+Section 53
+</h2>
+<p>
+They came down to the question of practical plans, and Peter was ready
+with suggestions. In the first place, Mr. Ackerman must give no hint
+either to the police authorities or to Guffey that he was dissatisfied
+with their efforts. He must simply provide for an interview with Peter now
+and then, and he and Peter, quite privately, must take certain steps to
+get Mr. Ackerman that protection which his importance to the community
+made necessary. The first thing was to find out whether or not there was a
+traitor in Mr. Ackerman&rsquo;s home, and for that purpose there must be a spy,
+a first-class detective working in some capacity or other. The only
+trouble was, there were so few detectives you could trust; they were
+nearly all scoundrels, and if they weren&rsquo;t scoundrels, it was because they
+didn&rsquo;t have sense enough to be&mdash;they were boobs, and any Red could
+see thru them in five minutes.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;But I tell you,&rdquo; said Peter, &ldquo;what I&rsquo;ve thought. I&rsquo;ve got a wife that&rsquo;s a
+wonder, and just now while we were talking about it, I thought, if I could
+only get Edythe in here for a few days, I&rsquo;d find out everything about all
+the people in your home, your relatives as well as your servants.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Is she a professional detective?&rdquo; asked the banker.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Why no, sir,&rdquo; said Peter. &ldquo;She was an actress, her name was Edythe
+Eustace; perhaps you might have heard of her on the stage.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;No, I&rsquo;m too busy for the theatre,&rdquo; said Mr. Ackerman.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Of course,&rdquo; said Peter. &ldquo;Well, I dunno whether she&rsquo;d be willing to do it;
+she don&rsquo;t like having me mix up with these Reds, and she&rsquo;s been begging me
+to quit for a long time, and I&rsquo;d just about promised her I would. But if I
+tell her about your trouble maybe she might, just as a favor.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+But how could Peter&rsquo;s wife be introduced into the Ackerman household
+without attracting suspicion? Peter raised this question, pointing out
+that his wife was a person of too high a social class to come as a
+servant. Mr. Ackerman added that he had nothing to do with engaging his
+servants, any more than with engaging the bookkeepers in his bank. It
+would look suspicious for him to make a suggestion to his housekeeper. But
+finally he remarked that he had a niece who sometimes came to visit him,
+and would come at once if requested, and would bring Edythe Eustace as her
+maid. Peter was sure that Edythe would be able to learn this part quickly,
+she had acted it many times on the stage, in fact, it had been her
+favorite role. Mr. Ackerman promised to get word to his niece, and have
+her meet Edythe at the Hotel de Soto that same afternoon.
+</p>
+<p>
+Then the old banker pledged his word most solemnly that he would not
+whisper a hint about this matter except to his niece. Peter was most
+urgent and emphatic; he specified that the police were not to be told,
+that no member of the household was to be told, not even Mr. Ackerman&rsquo;s
+private secretary. After Mr. Ackerman had had this duly impressed upon
+him, he proceeded in turn to impress upon Peter the idea which he
+considered of most importance in the world: &ldquo;I don&rsquo;t want to be killed,
+Gudge, I tell you I don&rsquo;t want to be killed!&rdquo; And Peter solemnly promised
+to make it his business to listen to all conversations of the Reds in so
+far as they might bear upon Mr. Ackerman.
+</p>
+<p>
+When he rose to take his departure, Mr. Ackerman slipped his trembling
+fingers into the pocket of his jacket, and pulled out a crisp and shiny
+note. He unfolded it, and Peter saw that it was a five hundred dollar
+bill, fresh from the First National Bank of American City, of which Mr.
+Ackerman was chairman of the board of directors. &ldquo;Here&rsquo;s a little present
+for you, Gudge,&rdquo; he said. &ldquo;I want you to understand that if you protect me
+from these villains, I&rsquo;ll see that you are well taken care of. From now on
+I want you to be my man.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Yes, sir,&rdquo; said Peter, &ldquo;I&rsquo;ll be it, sir. I thank you very much, sir.&rdquo; And
+he thrust the bill into his pocket, and bowed himself step by step
+backwards toward the door. &ldquo;You&rsquo;re forgetting your hat,&rdquo; said the banker.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Why, yes,&rdquo; said the trembling Peter, and he came forward again, and got
+his hat from under the chair, and bowed himself backward again.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;And remember, Gudge,&rdquo; said the old man, &ldquo;I don&rsquo;t want to be killed! I
+don&rsquo;t want them to get me!&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+<br /><br />
+</p>
+<hr />
+<p>
+<a name="link2H_4_0054" id="link2H_4_0054"> </a>
+</p>
+<div style="height: 4em;">
+<br /><br /><br /><br />
+</div>
+<h2>
+Section 54
+</h2>
+<p>
+Peter&rsquo;s first care when he got back into the city was to go to Mr.
+Ackerman&rsquo;s bank and change that five hundred dollar bill. The cashier
+gazed at him sternly, and scrutinized the bill carefully, but he gave
+Peter five one hundred dollar bills without comment. Peter tucked three of
+them away in a safe hiding-place, and put the other two in his pocketbook,
+and went to keep his appointment with Nell.
+</p>
+<p>
+He told her all that had happened, and where she was to meet Mr.
+Ackerman&rsquo;s niece. &ldquo;What did he give you?&rdquo; Nell demanded, at once, and when
+Peter produced the two bills, she exclaimed, &ldquo;My God! the old
+skint-flint!&rdquo; &ldquo;He said there&rsquo;d be more,&rdquo; remarked Peter.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;It didn&rsquo;t cost him anything to say that,&rdquo; was Nell&rsquo;s answer. &ldquo;We&rsquo;ll have
+to put the screws on him.&rdquo; Then she added, &ldquo;You&rsquo;d better let me take care
+of this money for you, Peter.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Well,&rdquo; said Peter, &ldquo;I have to have some for my own expenses, you know.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;You&rsquo;ve got your salary, haven&rsquo;t you?&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Yes, that&rsquo;s true, but&mdash;&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;I can keep it safe for you,&rdquo; said Nell, &ldquo;and some day when you need it
+you&rsquo;ll be glad to have it. You&rsquo;ve never saved anything yourself; that&rsquo;s a
+woman&rsquo;s job.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+Peter tried to haggle with her, but it wasn&rsquo;t the same as haggling with
+McGivney; she looked at him with her melting glances, and it made Peter&rsquo;s
+head swim, and automatically he put out his hand and let her take the two
+bills. Then she smiled, so tenderly that he made bold to remind her, &ldquo;You
+know, Nell, you&rsquo;re my wife now!&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Yes, yes,&rdquo; she answered, &ldquo;of course. But we&rsquo;ve got to get rid of Ted
+Crothers somehow. He watches me all the time, and I have no end of trouble
+making excuses and getting away.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;How&rsquo;re you&rsquo;re going to get rid of him?&rdquo; asked Peter, hungrily.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;We&rsquo;ll have to skip,&rdquo; she answered; &ldquo;just as soon as we have pulled off
+our new frame-up&mdash;&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Another one?&rdquo; gasped Peter, in dismay.
+</p>
+<p>
+And the girl laughed. &ldquo;You wait!&rdquo; she said. &ldquo;I&rsquo;m going to pull some real
+money out of Nelse Ackerman this time! Then when we&rsquo;ve made our killing,
+we&rsquo;ll skip, and be fixed for life. You wait&mdash;and don&rsquo;t talk love to
+me now, because my mind is all taken up with my plans, and I can&rsquo;t think
+about anything else.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+So they parted, and Peter went to see McGivney in the American House.
+&ldquo;Stand up to him!&rdquo; Nell had said. But it was not easy to do, for McGivney
+pulled and hauled him and turned him about, upside down and inside
+outwards, to know every single thing that had happened between him and
+Nelse Ackerman. Lord, how these fellows did hang on to their sources of
+graft! Peter repeated and insisted that he really had played entirely fair&mdash;he
+hadn&rsquo;t told Nelse Ackerman a thing except just the truth as he had told it
+to Guffey and McGivney. He had said that the police were all right, and
+that Guffey&rsquo;s bureau was stepping right on the tail of the Reds all the
+time.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;And what does he want you to do?&rdquo; demanded the rat-faced man.
+</p>
+<p>
+Peter answered, &ldquo;He just wanted to make sure that he was learning
+everything of importance, and he wanted me to promise him that he would
+get every scrap of information that I collected about the plot against
+him; and of course I promised him that we&rsquo;d bring it all to him.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;You going to see him any more?&rdquo; demanded McGivney.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;He didn&rsquo;t say anything about that.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Did he get your address?&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;No, I suppose if he wants me he&rsquo;ll let you know, the same as before.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;All right,&rdquo; said McGivney. &ldquo;Did he give you any money?&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Yes,&rdquo; said Peter, &ldquo;he gave me two hundred dollars, and he said there was
+plenty more where that came from, so that we&rsquo;d work hard to help him. He
+said he didn&rsquo;t want to get killed; he said that a couple of dozen times, I
+guess. He spent more time saying that than anything else. He&rsquo;s sick, and
+he&rsquo;s scared out of his wits.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+So at last McGivney condescended to thank Peter for his faithfulness, and
+went on to give him further orders.
+</p>
+<p>
+The Reds were raising an awful howl. Andrews, the lawyer, had succeeded in
+getting a court order to see the arrested men, and of course the prisoners
+had all declared that the case was a put-up job. Now the Reds were
+preparing to send out a circular to their fellow Reds all over the
+country, appealing for publicity, and for funds to fight the &ldquo;frame-up.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+They were very secret about it, and McGivney wanted to know where they
+were getting their money. He wanted a copy of the circular they were
+printing, and to know where and when the circulars were to be mailed.
+Guffey had been to see the post office authorities, and they were going to
+confiscate the circulars and destroy them all without letting the Reds
+know it.
+</p>
+<p>
+Peter rubbed his hands with glee. That was the real business! That was
+going after these criminals in the way Peter had been urging! The
+rat-faced man answered that it was nothing to what they were going to do
+in a few days. Let Peter keep on his job, and he would see! Now, when the
+public was wrought up over this dynamite conspiracy, was the time to get
+things done.
+</p>
+<p>
+<br /><br />
+</p>
+<hr />
+<p>
+<a name="link2H_4_0055" id="link2H_4_0055"> </a>
+</p>
+<div style="height: 4em;">
+<br /><br /><br /><br />
+</div>
+<h2>
+Section 55
+</h2>
+<p>
+Peter took a street car to the home of Miriam Yankovitch, and on the way
+he read the afternoon edition of the American City &ldquo;Times.&rdquo; The editors of
+this paper were certainly after the Reds, and no mistake! They had taken
+McCormick&rsquo;s book on Sabotage, just as Nell had predicted, and printed
+whole chapters from it, with the most menacing sentences in big type, and
+some boxed up in little frames and scattered here and there over the page
+so that no one could possibly miss them. They had a picture of McCormick
+taken in the jail; he hadn&rsquo;t had a chance to shave for several days, and
+probably hadn&rsquo;t felt pleasant about having his picture taken&mdash;anyhow,
+he looked ferocious enough to frighten the most skeptical, and Peter was
+confirmed in his opinion that Mac was the most dangerous Red of them all.
+</p>
+<p>
+Columns and columns of material this paper published about the case,
+subtly linking it up with all the other dynamitings and assassinations in
+American history, and with German spy plots and bomb plots. There was a
+nation-wide organization of these assassins, so the paper said; they
+published hundreds of papers, with millions of readers, all financed by
+German gold. Also, there was a double-leaded editorial calling on the
+citizens to arise and save the republic, and put an end to the Red menace
+once for all. Peter read this, and like every other good American, he
+believed every word that he read in his newspaper, and boiled with hatred
+of the Reds.
+</p>
+<p>
+He found Miriam Yankovitch away from home. Her mother was in a state of
+excitement, because Miriam had got word that the police were giving the
+prisoners the &ldquo;third degree,&rdquo; and she had gone to the offices of the
+Peoples&rsquo; Council to get the radicals together and try to take some
+immediate action. So Peter hurried over to these offices, where he found
+some twenty-five Reds and Pacifists assembled, all in the same state of
+excitement. Miriam was walking up and down the room, clasping and
+unclasping her hands, and her eyes looked as if she had been crying all
+day. Peter remembered his suspicion that Miriam and Mac were lovers. He
+questioned her. They had put Mac in the &ldquo;hole,&rdquo; and Henderson, the
+lumber-jack, was laid up in the hospital as a result of the ordeal he had
+undergone.
+</p>
+<p>
+The Jewish girl went into details, and Peter found himself shuddering&mdash;he
+had such a vivid memory of the third degree himself! He did not try to
+stop his shuddering, but took to pacing up and down the room like Miriam,
+and told them how it felt to have your wrists twisted and your fingers
+bent backward, and how damp and horrible it was in the &ldquo;hole.&rdquo; So he
+helped to work them into a state of hysteria, hoping that they would
+commit some overt action, as McGivney wanted. Why not storm the jail and
+set free the prisoners?
+</p>
+<p>
+Little Ada Ruth said that was nonsense; but might they not get banners,
+and parade up and down in front of the jail, protesting against this
+torturing of men who had not been convicted of any crime? The police would
+fall on them, of course, the crowds would mob them and probably tear them
+to pieces, but they must do something. Donald Gordon answered that this
+would only make them impotent to keep up the agitation. What they must try
+to get was a strike of labor. They must send telegrams to the radical
+press, and go out and raise money, and call a mass-meeting three days from
+date. Also, they must appeal to all the labor unions, and see if it was
+possible to work up sentiment for a general strike.
+</p>
+<p>
+Peter, somewhat disappointed, went back and reported to McGivney this
+rather tame outcome. But McGivney said that was all right, he had
+something that would fix them; and he revealed to Peter a startling bit of
+news. Peter had been reading in the papers about German spies, but he had
+only half taken it seriously; the war was a long way off, and Peter had
+never seen any of that German gold that they talked so much about&mdash;in
+fact, the Reds were in a state of perpetual poverty, one and all of them
+stinting himself eternally to put up some portion of his scant earnings to
+pay for pamphlets and circulars and postage and defence funds, and all the
+expenses of an active propaganda organization. But now, McGivney declared,
+there was a real, sure-enough agent of the Kaiser in American City! The
+government had pretty nearly got him in his nets, and one of the things
+McGivney wanted to do before the fellow was arrested was to get him to
+contribute some money to the radical cause.
+</p>
+<p>
+It wasn&rsquo;t necessary to point out to Peter the importance of this. If the
+authorities could show that the agitation on behalf of McCormick and the
+rest had been financed by German money, the public would justify any
+measures taken to bring it to an end. Could Peter suggest to McGivney the
+name of a German Socialist who might be persuaded to approach this agent
+of the Kaiser, and get him to contribute money for the purpose of having a
+general strike called in American City? Several of the city&rsquo;s big
+manufacturing plants were being made over for war purposes, and obviously
+the enemy had much to gain by strikes and labor discontent. Guffey&rsquo;s men
+had been trying for a long time to get Germans to contribute to the Goober
+Defense fund, but here was an even better opportunity.
+</p>
+<p>
+Peter thought of Comrade Apfel, who was one of the extreme Socialists, and
+a temporary Pacifist like most Germans. Apfel worked in a bakery, and his
+face was as pasty as the dough he kneaded, but it would show a tinge of
+color when he rose in the local to denounce the &ldquo;social patriots,&rdquo; those
+party members who were lending their aid to British plans for world
+domination. McGivney said he would send somebody to Apfel at once, and
+give him the name of the Kaiser&rsquo;s agent as one who might be induced to
+contribute to the radical defense fund. Apfel would, of course, have no
+idea that the man was a German agent; he would go to see him, and ask him
+for money, and McGivney and his fellow-sleuths would do the rest. Peter
+said that was fine, and offered to go to Apfel himself; but the rat-faced
+man answered no, Peter was too precious, and no chance must be taken of
+directing Apfel&rsquo;s suspicions against him.
+</p>
+<p>
+<br /><br />
+</p>
+<hr />
+<p>
+<a name="link2H_4_0056" id="link2H_4_0056"> </a>
+</p>
+<div style="height: 4em;">
+<br /><br /><br /><br />
+</div>
+<h2>
+Section 56
+</h2>
+<p>
+Peter had received a brief scrawl from Nell, telling him that it was all
+right, she had gone to her new job, and would soon have results. So Peter
+went cheerfully about his own duties of trying to hold down the protest
+campaign of the radicals. It was really quite terrifying, the success they
+were having, in spite of all the best efforts of the authorities. Bundles
+of circulars appeared at their gatherings as if by magic, and were carried
+away and distributed before the authorities could make any move. Every
+night at the Labor Temple, where the workers gathered, there were
+agitators howling their heads off about the McCormick case. To make
+matters worse, there was an obscure one cent evening paper in American
+City which catered to working-class readers, and persisted in publishing
+evidence tending to prove that the case was a &ldquo;frame-up.&rdquo; The Reds had
+found out that their mail was being interfered with, and were raising a
+terrific howl about that&mdash;pretending, of course, that it was &ldquo;free
+speech&rdquo; they cared about!
+</p>
+<p>
+The mass meeting was due for that evening, and Peter read an indignant
+editorial in the American City &ldquo;Times,&rdquo; calling upon the authorities to
+suppress it. &ldquo;Down with the Red Flag!&rdquo; the editorial was headed; and Peter
+couldn&rsquo;t see how any red-blooded, 100% American could read it, and not be
+moved to do something.
+</p>
+<p>
+Peter said that to McGivney, who answered: &ldquo;We&rsquo;re going to do something;
+you wait!&rdquo; And sure enough, that afternoon the papers carried the news
+that the mayor of American City had notified the owners of the Auditorium
+that they would be held strictly responsible under the law for all
+incendiary and seditious utterances at this meeting; thereupon, the owners
+of the Auditorium had cancelled the contract. Furthermore, the mayor
+declared that no crowds should be gathered on the street, and that the
+police would be there to see to it, and to protect law and order. Peter
+hurried to the rooms of the Peoples&rsquo; Council, and found the radicals
+scurrying about, trying to find some other hall; every now and then Peter
+would go to the telephone, and let McGivney know what hall they were
+trying to get, and McGivney would communicate with Guffey, and Guffey
+would communicate with the secretary of the Chamber of Commerce, and the
+owner of this hall would be called up and warned by the president of the
+bank which held a mortgage on the hall, or by the chairman of the board of
+directors of the Philharmonic Orchestra which gave concerts there.
+</p>
+<p>
+So there was no Red mass meeting that night&mdash;and none for many a
+night thereafter in American City! Guffey&rsquo;s office had got its German spy
+story ready, and next morning, here was the entire front page of the
+American City &ldquo;Times&rdquo; given up to the amazing revelation that Karl von
+Stroeme, agent of the German government, and reputed to be a nephew of the
+German Vice-chancellor, had been arrested in American City, posing as a
+Swedish sewing-machine agent, but in reality having been occupied in
+financing the planting of dynamite bombs in the buildings of the Pioneer
+Foundry Company, now being equipped for the manufacture of machine-guns.
+Three of von Stroeme&rsquo;s confederates had been nabbed at the same time, and
+a mass of papers full of important revelations&mdash;not the least
+important among them being the fact that only yesterday von Stroeme had
+been caught dealing with a German Socialist of the ultra-Red variety, an
+official of the Bread and Cake-Makers&rsquo; Union Number 479, by the name of
+Ernst Apfel. The government had a dictagraph record of conversations in
+which von Stroeme had contributed one hundred dollars to the Liberty
+Defense League, an organization which the Reds had got up for the purpose
+of carrying on agitation for the release of the I. W. W.s arrested in the
+dynamite plot against the life of Nelse Ackerman. Moreover it was proven
+that Apfel had taken this money and distributed it among several German
+Reds, who had turned it in to the defense fund, or used it in paying for
+circulars calling for a general strike.
+</p>
+<p>
+Peter&rsquo;s heart was leaping with excitement; and it leaped even faster when
+he had got his breakfast and was walking down Main Street. He saw crowds
+gathered, and American flags flying from all the buildings, just as on the
+day of the Preparedness parade. It caused Peter to feet queer spasms of
+fright; he imagined another bomb, but he couldn&rsquo;t resist the crowds with
+their eager faces and contagious enthusiasm. Presently here came a band,
+with magnificent martial music, and here came soldiers marching&mdash;tramp,
+tramp, tramp&mdash;line after line of khaki-clad boys with heavy packs
+upon their backs and shiny new rifles. Our boys! Our boys! God bless them!
+</p>
+<p>
+It was three regiments of the 223rd Division, coming from Camp Lincoln to
+be entrained for the war. They might better have been entrained at the
+camp, of course, but everyone had been clamoring for some glimpse of the
+soldiers, and here they were with their music and their flags, and their
+crowds of flushed, excited admirers&mdash;two endless lines of people,
+wild with patriotic fervor, shouting, singing, waving hats and
+handkerchiefs, until the whole street became a blur, a mad delirium. Peter
+saw these closely pressed lines, straight and true, and the legs that
+moved like clock-work, and the feet that shook the ground like thunder. He
+saw the fresh, boyish faces, grimly set and proud, with eyes fixed ahead,
+never turning, even tho they realized that this might be their last
+glimpse of their home city, that they might never come back from this
+journey. Our boys! Our boys! God bless them! Peter felt a choking in his
+throat, and a thrill of gratitude to the boys who were protecting him and
+his country; he clenched his hands and set his teeth, with fresh
+determination to punish the evil men and women&mdash;draft-dodgers,
+slackers, pacifists and seditionists&mdash;who were failing to take their
+part in this glorious emprise.
+</p>
+<p>
+<br /><br />
+</p>
+<hr />
+<p>
+<a name="link2H_4_0057" id="link2H_4_0057"> </a>
+</p>
+<div style="height: 4em;">
+<br /><br /><br /><br />
+</div>
+<h2>
+Section 57
+</h2>
+<p>
+Peter went to the American House and met McGivney, and was put to work on
+a job that precisely suited his mood. The time had come for action, said
+the rat-faced man. The executive committee of the I. W. W. local had been
+drafting an appeal to the main organization for help, and the executive
+committee was to meet that evening; Peter was to get in touch with the
+secretary, Grady, and find out where this meeting was to be, and make the
+suggestion that all the membership be gathered, and other Reds also. The
+business men of the city were going to pull off their big stroke that
+night, said McGivney; the younger members of the Chamber of Commerce and
+the Merchants&rsquo; and Manufacturers&rsquo; Association had got together and worked
+out a secret plan, and all they wanted was to have the Reds collected in
+one place.
+</p>
+<p>
+So Peter set out and found Shawn Grady, the young Irish boy who kept the
+membership lists and other papers of the organization, in a place so
+secret that not even Peter had been able to find them. Peter brought the
+latest news about the sufferings of Mac in the &ldquo;hole,&rdquo; and how Gus, the
+sailor, had joined Henderson in the hospital. He was so eloquent in his
+indignation that presently Grady told him about the meeting for that
+evening, and about the place, and Peter said they really ought to get some
+of their friends together, and work out some way to get their protest
+literature distributed quickly, because it was evident they could no
+longer use the mails. What was the use of resolutions of executive
+committees, when what was wanted was action by the entire membership?
+Grady said all right, they would notify the active members and
+sympathizers, and he gave Peter the job of telephoning and travelling
+about town getting word to a dozen people.
+</p>
+<p>
+At six o&rsquo;clock that evening Peter reported the results to McGivney, and
+then he got a shock. &ldquo;You must go to that meeting yourself,&rdquo; said the
+rat-faced man. &ldquo;You mustn&rsquo;t take any chance of their suspecting you.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;But, my God!&rdquo; cried Peter. &ldquo;What&rsquo;s going to happen there?&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;You don&rsquo;t need to worry about that,&rdquo; answered the other. &ldquo;I&rsquo;ll see that
+you&rsquo;re protected.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+The gathering was to take place at the home of Ada Ruth, the poetess, and
+McGivney had Peter describe this home to him. Beyond the living-room was a
+hallway, and in this hallway was a big clothes closet. At the first alarm
+Peter must make for this place. He must get into the closet, and McGivney
+would be on hand, and they would pen Peter up and pretend to club him, but
+in reality would protect him from whatever happened to the rest. Peter&rsquo;s
+knees began to tremble, and he denounced the idea indignantly; what would
+happen to him if anything were to happen to McGivney, or to his
+automobile, and were to fail to get there in time? McGivney declared that
+Peter need not worry&mdash;he was too valuable a man for them to take any
+chances with. McGivney would be there, and all Peter would have to do was
+to scream and raise a rumpus, and finally fall unconscious, and McGivney
+and Hammett and Cummings would carry him out to their automobile and take
+him away!
+</p>
+<p>
+Peter was so frightened that he couldn&rsquo;t eat any dinner, but wandered
+about the street talking to himself and screwing up his courage. He had to
+stop and look at the American flags, still waving from the buildings, and
+read the evening edition of the American City &ldquo;Times,&rdquo; in order to work up
+his patriotic fervor again. As he set out for the home of the little
+cripple who wrote pacifist poetry, he really felt like the soldier boys
+marching away to war.
+</p>
+<p>
+Ada Ruth was there, and her mother, a dried-up old lady who knew nothing
+about all these dreadful world movements, but whose pleadings had no
+effect upon her inspired daughter; also Ada&rsquo;s cousin, a lean old-maid
+school teacher, secretary of the Peoples&rsquo; Council; also Miriam Yankovitch,
+and Sadie Todd, and Donald Gordon. On the way Peter had met Tom Duggan,
+and the mournful poet revealed that he had composed a new poem about Mac
+in the &ldquo;hole.&rdquo; Immediately afterwards came Grady, the secretary, his
+pockets stuffed with his papers. Grady, a tall, dark-eyed,
+impulsive-tempered Irish boy, was what the Socialists called a &ldquo;Jimmie
+Higgins,&rdquo; that is, one of the fellows who did the hard and dreary work of
+the movement, who were always on hand no matter what happened, always
+ready to have some new responsibility put upon their shoulders. Grady had
+no use for the Socialists, being only interested in &ldquo;industrial action,&rdquo;
+ but he was willing to be called a &ldquo;Jimmie Higgins&rdquo;; he had said that Peter
+was one too, and Peter had smiled to himself, thinking that a &ldquo;Jimmie
+Higgins&rdquo; was about the last thing in the world he ever would be. Peter was
+on the way to independence and prosperity, and it did not occur to him to
+reflect that he might be a &ldquo;Jimmie Higgins&rdquo; to the &ldquo;Whites&rdquo; instead of to
+the Reds!
+</p>
+<p>
+Grady now pulled out his papers, and began to talk over with Donald Gordon
+the proceedings of the evening. He had had a telegram from the national
+headquarters of the I. W. W., promising support, and his thin, hungry face
+lighted up with pride as he showed this. Then he announced that &ldquo;Bud&rdquo;
+ Connor was to be present&mdash;a well-known organizer, who had been up in
+the oil country with McCormick, and brought news that the workers there
+were on the verge of a big strike. Then came Mrs. Jennings, a poor,
+tormented little woman who was slowly dying of a cancer, and whose husband
+was suing her for divorce because she had given money to the I. W. W. With
+her, and helping her along, came &ldquo;Andy&rdquo; Adams, a big machinist, who had
+been kicked out of his lodge for talking too much &ldquo;direct action.&rdquo; He
+pulled from his pocket a copy of the &ldquo;Evening Telegraph,&rdquo; and read a few
+lines from an editorial, denouncing &ldquo;direct action&rdquo; as meaning dynamiting,
+which it didn&rsquo;t, of course, and asking how long it would be before the
+friends of law and order in American City would use a little &ldquo;direct
+action&rdquo; of their own.
+</p>
+<p>
+<br /><br />
+</p>
+<hr />
+<p>
+<a name="link2H_4_0058" id="link2H_4_0058"> </a>
+</p>
+<div style="height: 4em;">
+<br /><br /><br /><br />
+</div>
+<h2>
+Section 58
+</h2>
+<p>
+So they gathered, until about thirty were present, and then the meeting
+speedily got down to business. It was evident, said Grady, that the
+authorities had deliberately framed-up the dynamite conspiracy, in order
+to have an excuse for wiping out the I. W. W. organization; they had
+closed the hall, and confiscated everything, typewriters and office
+furniture and books&mdash;including a book on Sabotage which they had
+turned over to the editor of the &ldquo;Evening Times&rdquo;! There was a hiss of
+anger at this. Also, they had taken to interfering with the mail of the
+organization; the I. W. W. were having to get out their literature by
+express. They were fighting for their existence, and they must find some
+way of getting the truth to people. If anybody had any suggestions to
+make, now was the time.
+</p>
+<p>
+There came one suggestion after another; and meantime Peter sat as if his
+chair were full of pins. Why didn&rsquo;t they come&mdash;the younger members of
+the Chamber of Commerce and the Merchants&rsquo; and Manufacturers&rsquo; Association&mdash;and
+do what they were going to do without any further delay? Did they expect
+Peter to sit there all night, trembling with alarm&mdash;and he not having
+any dinner besides?
+</p>
+<p>
+Suddenly Peter gave a jump. Outside came a yell, and Donald Gordon, who
+was making a speech, stopped suddenly, and the members of the company
+stared at one another, and some sprang to their feet. There were more
+yells, rising to screams, and some of the company made for the front
+doors, and some for the back doors, and yet others for the windows and the
+staircase. Peter wasted no time, but dived into the clothes closet in the
+hallway back of the living-room, and got into the farthest corner of this
+closet, and pulled some of the clothes on top of him; and then, to make
+him safer yet, came several other people piling on top of him.
+</p>
+<p>
+From his place of refuge he listened to the confusion that reigned. The
+place was a bedlam of women&rsquo;s shrieks, and the curses of fighting men, and
+the crash of overturning furniture, and of clubs and monkey-wrenches on
+human heads. The younger members of the Chamber of Commerce and the
+Merchants&rsquo; and Manufacturers&rsquo; Association had come in sufficient force to
+make sure of their purpose. There were enough to crowd the room full, and
+to pack all the doorways, and two or three to guard each window, and a
+flying squadron to keep watch for anybody who jumped from the roof or
+tried to hide in the trees of the garden.
+</p>
+<p>
+Peter cowered, and listened to the furious uproar, and presently he heard
+the cries of those on top of him, and realized that they were being pulled
+off and clubbed; he felt hands reach down and grab him, and he cringed and
+cried in terror; but nothing happened to him, and presently he glanced up
+and he saw a man wearing a black mask, but easily to be recognized as
+McGivney. Never in all his life had Peter been gladder to see a human face
+than he was to see that masked face of a rat! McGivney had a club in his
+hand, and was dealing ferocious blows to the clothes heaped around Peter.
+Behind McGivney were Hammett and Cummings, covering the proceedings, and
+now and then carefully putting in a blow of their own.
+</p>
+<p>
+Most of the fighting inside the house and outside came quickly to an end,
+because everybody who fought was laid out or overpowered. Then several of
+the agents of Guffey, who had been studying these Reds for a year or two
+and knew them all, went about picking out the ones who were especially
+wanted, and searching them for arms, and then handcuffing them. One of
+these men approached Peter, who instantly fell unconscious, and closed his
+eyes; then Hammett caught him under the armpits and Cummings by the feet,
+and McGivney walked alongside as a bodyguard, remarking now and then, &ldquo;We
+want this fellow, we&rsquo;ll take care of him.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+They carried Peter outside, and in the darkness he opened his eyes just
+enough to see that the street was lined with automobiles, and that the
+Reds were being loaded aboard. Peter&rsquo;s friends carried him to one car and
+drove him away, and then Peter returned to consciousness, and the four of
+them sat up and laughed to split their sides, and slapped one another on
+the back, and mentioned the satisfactory things they had seen. Had Hammett
+noticed that slice Grady had got over the eyes, and the way the blood had
+run all over him? Well, he wanted to be a Red&mdash;they had helped him be
+one&mdash;inside and out! Had McGivney noticed how &ldquo;Buck&rdquo; Ellis, one of
+their men, had put the nose of the hobo poet out of joint? And young
+Ogden, son of the president of the Chamber of Commerce, had certainly
+managed to show how he felt about these cattle, the female ones as well as
+the males; when that Yankovich slut had slapped his face, he had caught
+her by the breasts and nearly twisted them off, and she had screamed and
+fainted!
+</p>
+<p>
+Yes, they had cleaned them out. But that wasn&rsquo;t all of it, they were going
+to finish the job tonight, by God! They were going to give these pacifists
+a taste of the war, they were going to put an end to the Red Terror in
+American City! Peter might go along if he liked and see the good work;
+they were going into the country, and it would be dark, and if he kept a
+mask on he would be quite safe. And Peter said yes; his blood was up, he
+was full of the spirit of the hunt, he wanted to be in at the death,
+regardless of everything.
+</p>
+<p>
+<br /><br />
+</p>
+<hr />
+<p>
+<a name="link2H_4_0059" id="link2H_4_0059"> </a>
+</p>
+<div style="height: 4em;">
+<br /><br /><br /><br />
+</div>
+<h2>
+Section 59
+</h2>
+<p>
+The motor purred softly, and the car sped as if upon wings thru the
+suburbs of American City, and to the country beyond. There were cars in
+front, and other cars behind, a long stream of white lights flying out
+into the country. They came to a grove of big pine trees, which rose two
+or three feet thick, like church arches, and covered the ground beneath
+them with a soft, brown carpet. It was a well-known picnic place, and here
+all the cars were gathering by appointment. Evidently it had all been
+pre-arranged, with that efficiency which is the pride of 100% Americans. A
+man with a black mask over his face stood in the center of the grove, and
+shouted his directions thru a megaphone, and each car as it swept in
+ranged itself alongside the next car in a broad circle, more than a
+hundred feet across. These cars of the younger members of the Chamber of
+Commerce and the Merchants&rsquo; and Manufacturers&rsquo; Association were well
+behaved&mdash;they were accustomed to sliding precisely into place
+according to orders of a megaphone man, when receptions were being given,
+or when the younger members and their wives and fiancees, clad in soft
+silks and satins, came rolling up to their dinner-parties and dances.
+</p>
+<p>
+The cars came and came, until there was just room enough for the last one
+to slide in. Then at a shouted command, &ldquo;Number one!&rdquo; a group of men
+stepped out of one of the cars, dragging a handcuffed prisoner. It was
+Michael Dubin, the young Jewish tailor who had spent fifteen days in jail
+with Peter. Michael was a student and dreamer, and not used to scenes of
+violence; also, he belonged to a race which expresses its emotions, and
+consequently is offensive to 100% Americans. He screamed and moaned while
+the masked men un-handcuffed him, and took off his coat and tore his shirt
+in the back. They dragged him to a tree in the center of the ring, a
+somewhat smaller tree, just right for his wrists to meet around and be
+handcuffed again. There he stood in the blinding glare of thirty or forty
+cars, writhing and moaning, while one of the black-masked men stripped off
+his coat and got ready for action. He produced a long black-snake whip,
+and stood poised for a moment; then in a booming voice the man with the
+megaphone shouted, &ldquo;Go!&rdquo; and the whip whistled thru the air and was laid
+across the back of Michael, and tore into the flesh so that the blood
+leaped into sight. There was a scream of anguish, and the victim began to
+twist and turn and kick about as if in his death-throes. Again the whip
+whistled, and again you heard the thud as it tore into the flesh, and
+another red stripe leaped to view.
+</p>
+<p>
+Now the younger members of the Chamber of Commerce and the Merchants&rsquo; and
+Manufacturers&rsquo; Association were in excellent condition for this evening&rsquo;s
+labor. They were not pale and thin, underfed and overworked, as were their
+prisoners; they were sleek and rosy, and ashine with health. It was as if
+long years ago their fathers had foreseen the Red menace, and the steps
+that would have to be taken to preserve 100% Americanism; the fathers had
+imported a game which consisted of knocking little white balls around a
+field with various styles and sizes of clubs. They had built magnificent
+club-houses out here in the suburbs, and had many hundreds of acres of
+ground laid out for this game, and would leave their occupations of
+merchanting and manufacturing early in the afternoon, in order to repair
+to these fields and keep their muscles in condition. They would hold
+tournaments, and vie with one another, and tell over the stories of the
+mighty strokes which they had made with their clubs, and of the hundreds
+of strokes they had made in a single afternoon. So the man with the
+black-snake whip was &ldquo;fit,&rdquo; and didn&rsquo;t need to stop for breath. Stroke
+after stroke he laid on, with a splendid rhythmic motion; he kept it up
+easily, on and on. Had he forgotten?
+</p>
+<p>
+Did he think this was a little white ball he was swinging down upon? He
+kept on and on, until you could no longer count the welts, until the whole
+back of Michael Dubin was a mass of raw and bleeding flesh. The screams of
+Michael Dubin died away, and his convulsive struggling ceased, and his
+head hung limp, and he sunk lower and lower upon the tree.
+</p>
+<p>
+At last the master of ceremonies stepped forward and ordered a halt, and
+the man with the whip wiped the sweat from his forehead with his
+shirt-sleeve, and the other men unchained the body of Michael Dubin, and
+dragged it a few feet to one side and dumped it face downward in the
+pine-leaves.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Number two!&rdquo; called the master of ceremonies, in a clear, compelling
+voice, as if he were calling the figures of a quadrille; and from another
+car another set of men emerged, dragging another prisoner. It was Bert
+Glikas, a &ldquo;blanket-stiff&rdquo; who was a member of the I. W. W.&lsquo;s executive
+committee, and had had two teeth knocked out in a harvest-strike only a
+couple of weeks previously. While they were getting off his coat, he
+managed to get one hand free, and he shook it at the spectators behind the
+white lights of the automobiles. &ldquo;God damn you!&rdquo; he yelled; and so they
+tied him up, and a fresh man stepped forward and picked up the whip, and
+spit on his hands for good luck, and laid on with a double will; and at
+every stroke Glikas yelled a fresh curse; first in English, and then, as
+if he were delirious, in some foreign language. But at last his curses
+died away, and he too sank insensible, and was unhitched and dragged away
+and dumped down beside the first man. &ldquo;Number three!&rdquo; called the master of
+ceremonies.
+</p>
+<p>
+<br /><br />
+</p>
+<hr />
+<p>
+<a name="link2H_4_0060" id="link2H_4_0060"> </a>
+</p>
+<div style="height: 4em;">
+<br /><br /><br /><br />
+</div>
+<h2>
+Section 60
+</h2>
+<p>
+Now Peter was sitting in the back seat of his car, wearing the mask which
+McGivney had given him, a piece of cloth with two holes for his eyes and
+another hole for him to breathe thru. Peter hated these Reds, and wanted
+them punished, but he was not used to bloody sights, and was finding this
+endless thud, thud of the whip on human flesh rather more than he could
+stand. Why had he come? This wasn&rsquo;t his part of the job of saving his
+country from the Red menace. He had done his share in pointing out the
+dangerous ones; he was a man of brains, not a man of violence. Peter saw
+that the next victim was Tom Duggan with his broken and bloody nose, and
+in spite of himself, Peter started with dismay. He realized that without
+intending it he had become a little fond of Tom Duggan. For all his
+queerness, Duggan was loyal, he was a good fellow when you had got
+underneath his surly manners. He had never done anything except just to
+grumble, and to put his grumbles into verses; they were making a mistake
+in whipping him, and for a moment Peter had a crazy impulse to interfere
+and tell them so.
+</p>
+<p>
+The poet never made a sound. Peter got one glimpse of his face in the
+blazing white light, and in spite of the fact that it was smashed and
+bloody, Peter read Tom Duggan&rsquo;s resolve&mdash;he would die before they
+would get a moan out of him. Each time the lash fell you could see a
+quiver all over his form; but there was never a sound, and he stood,
+hugging the tree in a convulsive grip. They lashed him until the whip was
+spattering blood all over them, until blood was running to the ground.
+They had taken the precaution to bring along a doctor with a little black
+case, and he now stepped up and whispered to the master of ceremonies.
+They unfastened Duggan, and broke the grip of his arms about the tree, and
+dumped him down beside Glikas.
+</p>
+<p>
+Next came the turn of Donald Gordon, the Socialist Quaker, which brought a
+bit of cheap drama. Donald took his religion seriously; he was always
+shouting his anti-war sentiments in the name of Jesus, which made him
+especially obnoxious. Now he saw a chance to get off one of his theatrical
+stunts; he raised his two manacled hands into the air as if he were
+praying, and shouted in piercing tones: &ldquo;Father, forgive them, for they
+know not what they do!&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+A murmur started in the crowd; you could hear it mounting to a roar.
+&ldquo;Blasphemy!&rdquo; they cried. &ldquo;Stop his dirty mouth!&rdquo; It was the same mouth
+that had been heard on a hundred platforms, denouncing the war and those
+who made money out of the war. They were here now, the men who had been
+denounced, the younger members of the Chamber of Commerce and the
+Merchants&rsquo; and Manufacturers&rsquo; Association, the best people of the city,
+those who were saving the country, and charging no more than the service
+was worth. So they roared with fury at this sacreligious upstart. A man
+whose mask was a joke, because he was so burly and hearty that everybody
+in the crowd knew him, took up the bloody whip. It was Billy Nash,
+secretary of the &ldquo;Improve America League,&rdquo; and the crowd shouted, &ldquo;Go to
+it, Billy! Good eye, old boy!&rdquo; Donald Gordon might tell God that Billy
+Nash didn&rsquo;t know what he was doing, but Billy thought that he knew, and he
+meant before he got thru to convince Donald that he knew. It didn&rsquo;t take
+very long, because there was nothing much to the young Quaker but voice,
+and he fainted at the fourth or fifth stroke, and after the twentieth
+stroke the doctor interfered.
+</p>
+<p>
+Then came the turn of Grady, secretary of the I. W. W., and here a
+terrible thing happened. Grady, watching this scene from one of the cars,
+had grown desperate, and when they loosed the handcuffs to get off his
+coat, he gave a sudden wrench and broke free, striking down one man after
+another. He had been brought up in the lumber country, and his strength
+was amazing, and before the crowd quite realized it, he was leaping
+between two of the cars. A dozen men sprang upon him from a dozen
+directions, and he went down in the midst of a wild melee. They pinned him
+with his face mashed into the dirt, and from the crowd there rose a roar
+as from wild beasts in the night-time,
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;String him up! String him up!&rdquo; One man came running with a rope,
+shouting, &ldquo;Hang him!&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+The master of ceremonies tried to protest thru his megaphone, but the
+instrument was knocked out of his hands, and he was hauled to one side,
+and presently there was a man climbing up the pine tree and hanging the
+rope over a limb. You could not see Grady for the jostling throng about
+him, but suddenly there was a yell from the crowd, and you saw him quite
+plainly&mdash;he shot high up into the air, with the rope about his neck
+and his feet kicking wildly. Underneath, men danced about and yelled and
+waved their hats in the air, and one man leaped up and caught one of the
+kicking feet and hung onto it.
+</p>
+<p>
+Then, above all the din, a voice was heard thru the megaphone, &ldquo;Let him
+down a bit! Let me get at him!&rdquo; And those who held the rope gave way, and
+the body came down toward the ground, still kicking, and a man took out a
+clasp-knife, and cut the clothing away from the body, and cut off
+something from the body; there was another yell from the crowd, and the
+men in the automobiles slapped their knees and shrieked with satisfaction.
+Those in the car with Peter whispered that it was Ogden, son of the
+president of the Chamber of Commerce; and all over town next day and for
+weeks thereafter men would nudge one another, and whisper about what Bob
+Ogden had done to the body of Shawn Grady, secretary of the &ldquo;damned
+wobblies.&rdquo; And every one who nudged and whispered about it felt certain
+that by this means the Red Terror had been forever suppressed, and 100%
+Americanism vindicated, and a peaceful solution of the problem of capital
+and labor made certain.
+</p>
+<p>
+Strange as it might seem, there was one member of the I. W. W. who agreed
+with them. One of the victims of that night had learned his lesson! When
+Tom Duggan was able to sit up again, which was six weeks later, he wrote
+an article about his experience, which was published in an I. W. W. paper,
+and afterwards in pamphlet form was read by many hundreds of thousands of
+workingmen. In it the poet said:
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;The preamble of the I. W. W. opens with the statement that the employing
+class and the working class have nothing in common; but on this occasion I
+learned that the preamble is mistaken. On this occasion I saw one thing in
+common between the employing class and the working class, and that thing
+was a black-snake whip. The butt end of the whip was in the hands of the
+employing class, and the lash of the whip was on the backs of the working
+class, and thus to all eternity was symbolized the truth about the
+relationship of the classes!&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+<br /><br />
+</p>
+<hr />
+<p>
+<a name="link2H_4_0061" id="link2H_4_0061"> </a>
+</p>
+<div style="height: 4em;">
+<br /><br /><br /><br />
+</div>
+<h2>
+Section 61
+</h2>
+<p>
+Peter awoke next morning with a vivid sense of the pain and terror of
+life. He had been clamoring to have those Reds punished; but somehow or
+other he had thought of this punishment in an abstract way, a thing you
+could attend to by a wave of the hand. He hadn&rsquo;t quite realized the
+physical side of it, what a messy and bloody job it would prove. Two hours
+and more he had listened to the thud of a whip on human flesh, and each
+separate stroke had been a blow upon his own nerves. Peter had an overdose
+of vengeance; and now, the morning after, his conscience was gnawing at
+him. He had known every one of those boys, and their faces rose up to
+haunt him. What had any of them done to deserve such treatment? Could he
+say that he had ever known a single one of them to do anything as violent
+as the thing they had all suffered?
+</p>
+<p>
+But more than anything else Peter was troubled by fear. Peter, the ant,
+perceived the conflict of the giants becoming more ferocious, and realized
+the precariousness of his position under the giants&rsquo; feet. The passions of
+both sides were mounting, and the fiercer their hate became, the greater
+the chance of Peter&rsquo;s being discovered, the more dreadful his fate if he
+were discovered. It was all very well for McGivney to assure him that only
+four of Guffey&rsquo;s men knew the truth, and that all these might be trusted
+to the death. Peter remembered a remark he had heard Shawn Grady make, and
+which had caused him to lose his appetite for more than one meal. &ldquo;They&rsquo;ve
+got spies among us,&rdquo; the young Irishman had said. &ldquo;Well, sooner or later
+we&rsquo;ll do a bit of spying of our own!&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+And now these words came back to Peter like a voice from the grave.
+Suppose one of the Reds who had money were to hire somebody to get a job
+in Guffey&rsquo;s office! Suppose some Red girl were to try Peter&rsquo;s device, and
+seduce one of Guffey&rsquo;s men&mdash;by no means a difficult task! The man
+mightn&rsquo;t even mean to reveal that Peter Gudge was a secret agent; he might
+just let it slip, as little Jennie had let slip the truth about Jack
+Ibbetts! Thus Mac would know who had framed him up; and what would Mac do
+to Peter when he got out on bail? When Peter thought of things like that
+he realized what it meant to go to war; he saw that he had gained nothing
+by staying at home, he might as well have been in the front-line trenches!
+After all, this was war, class-war; and in all war the penalty for spying
+is death.
+</p>
+<p>
+Also Peter was worried about Nell. She had been in her new position for
+nearly a week, and he hadn&rsquo;t heard a word from her. She had forbidden him
+to write, for fear he might write something injudicious. Let him just
+wait, Edythe Eustace would know how to take care of herself. And that was
+all right, Peter had no doubt about the ability of Edythe Eustace to take
+care of herself. What troubled him was the knowledge that she was working
+on another &ldquo;frame-up,&rdquo; and he stood in fear of the exuberance of her
+imagination. The last time that imagination had been pregnant, it had
+presented him with a suit-case full of dynamite. What it might bring forth
+next time he did not know, and was afraid to think. Nell might cause him
+to be found out by Guffey; and that would be nearly as horrible as to be
+found out by Mac!
+</p>
+<p>
+Peter got his morning &ldquo;Times,&rdquo; and found a whole page about the whipping
+of the Reds, portraying the job as a patriotic duty heroically performed;
+and that naturally cheered Peter up considerably. He turned to the
+editorial page, and read a two column &ldquo;leader&rdquo; that was one whoop of
+exultation. It served still more to cure Peter&rsquo;s ache of conscience; and
+when he read on and found a series of interviews with leading citizens,
+giving cordial endorsement to the acts of the &ldquo;vigilantes,&rdquo; Peter became
+ashamed of his weakness, and glad that he had not revealed it to anyone.
+Peter was trying his best to become a real &ldquo;he-man,&rdquo; a 100% red-blooded
+American, and he had the &ldquo;Times&rdquo; twice each day, morning and evening, to
+guide, sustain and inspire him.
+</p>
+<p>
+Peter had been told by McGivney to fix himself up and pose as one of the
+martyrs of the night&rsquo;s affair, and this appealed to his sense of humor. He
+cut off the hair from a part of his head, and stuck some raw cotton on
+top, and plastered it over with surgical tape. He stuck another big wad of
+surgical tape across his forehead, and a criss-cross of it on his cheek,
+and tied up his wrist in an excellent imitation of a sprain. Thus rigged
+out he repaired to the American House, and McGivney rewarded him with a
+hearty laugh, and then proceeded to give some instructions which, entirely
+restored Peter&rsquo;s usual freshness of soul. Peter was going up on Mount
+Olympus again!
+</p>
+<p>
+The rat-faced man explained in detail. There was a lady of great wealth&mdash;indeed,
+she was said to be several times a millionaire&mdash;who was an openly
+avowed Red, a pacifist of the most malignant variety. Since the arrest of
+young Lackman she had come forward and put up funds to finance the
+&ldquo;People&rsquo;s Council,&rdquo; and the &ldquo;Anti-Conscription League,&rdquo; and all the other
+activities which for the sake of convenience were described by the term
+&ldquo;pro-German.&rdquo; The only trouble was this lady was so extremely wealthy it
+was hard to do anything to her. Her husband was a director in a couple of
+Nelse Ackerman&rsquo;s banks, and had other powerful connections. The husband
+was a violent, anti-Socialist, and a buyer of liberty bonds; he quarrelled
+with his wife, but nevertheless he did not want to see her in jail, and
+this made an embarrassing situation for the police and the district
+attorney&rsquo;s office, and even for the Federal authorities, who naturally did
+not want to trouble one of the courtiers of the king of American City.
+&ldquo;But something&rsquo;s got to be done,&rdquo; said McGivney. &ldquo;This camouflaged German
+propaganda can&rsquo;t go on.&rdquo; So Peter was to try to draw Mrs. Godd into some
+kind of &ldquo;overt action.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Mrs. Godd?&rdquo; said Peter. It seemed to him a singular coincidence that one
+of the dwellers on Mount Olympus should bear that name. The great lady
+lived on a hilltop out in the suburbs, not so far from the hilltop of
+Nelse Ackerman. One of the adventures looked forward to by Reds and
+pacifists in distress was to make a pilgrimage to this palace and obtain
+some long, green plasters to put over their wounds. Now was the time at
+all times for Peter to go, said McGivney. Peter had many wounds to be
+plastered, and Mrs. Godd would be indignant at the proceedings of last
+night, and would no doubt express herself without restraint.
+</p>
+<p>
+<br /><br />
+</p>
+<hr />
+<p>
+<a name="link2H_4_0062" id="link2H_4_0062"> </a>
+</p>
+<div style="height: 4em;">
+<br /><br /><br /><br />
+</div>
+<h2>
+Section 62
+</h2>
+<p>
+Peter hadn&rsquo;t been so excited since the time when he had waited to meet
+young Lackman. He had never quite forgiven himself for this costly
+failure, and now he was to have another chance. He took a trolley ride out
+into the country, and walked a couple of miles to the palace on the
+hilltop, and mounted thru a grove of trees and magnificent Italian
+gardens. According to McGivney&rsquo;s injunctions, he summoned his courage, and
+went to the front door of the stately mansion and rang the bell.
+</p>
+<p>
+Peter was hot and dusty from his long walk, the sweat had made streaks
+down his face and marred the pristine whiteness of his plasters. He was
+never a distinguished-looking person at best, and now, holding his damaged
+straw hat in his hands, he looked not so far from a hobo. However, the
+French maid who came to the door was evidently accustomed to
+strange-looking visitors. She didn&rsquo;t order Peter to the servant&rsquo;s
+entrance, nor threaten him with the dogs; she merely said, &ldquo;Be seated,
+please. I will tell madame&rdquo;&mdash;putting the accent on the second
+syllable, where Peter had never heard it before.
+</p>
+<p>
+And presently here came Mrs. Godd in her cloud of Olympian beneficence; a
+large and ample lady, especially built for the role of divinity. Peter
+felt suddenly awe-stricken. How had he dared come here? Neither in the
+Hotel de Soto, with its many divinities, nor in the palace of Nelse
+Ackerman, the king, had he felt such a sense of his own lowliness as the
+sight of this calm, slow-moving great lady inspired. She was the
+embodiment of opulence, she was &ldquo;the real thing.&rdquo; Despite the look of
+kindliness in her wide-open blue eyes, she impressed him with a feeling of
+her overwhelming superiority. He did not know it was his duty as a
+gentleman to rise from his chair when a lady entered, but some instinct
+brought him to his feet and caused him to stand blinking as she crossed to
+him from the opposite end of the big room.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;How do you do?&rdquo; she said in a low, full voice, gazing at him steadily out
+of the kind, wide-open blue eyes. Peter stammered, &ldquo;How d-dy do, M&mdash;Mrs.
+Godd.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+In truth, Peter was almost dumb with bewilderment. Could it really,
+possibly be that this grand personage was a Red? One of the things that
+had most offended him about all radicals was their noisiness, their
+aggressiveness; but here was a grand serenity of looks and manner, a soft,
+slow voice&mdash;here was beauty, too, a skin unlined, despite middle
+years, and glowing with health and a fine cleanness. Nell Doolin had had a
+glowing complexion, but there was always a lot of powder stuck on, and
+when you investigated closely, as Peter had done, you discovered muddy
+spots in the edges of her hair and on her throat. But Mrs. Godd&rsquo;s skin
+shone just as the skin of a goddess would be expected to shine, and
+everything about her was of a divine and compelling opulence. Peter could
+not have explained just what it was that gave this last impression so
+overwhelmingly. It was not that she wore many jewels, or large ones, for
+Mrs. James had beaten her at that; it was not her delicate perfume, for
+Nell Doolin scattered more sweetness on the air; yet somehow even poor,
+ignorant Peter felt the difference&mdash;it seemed to him that none of
+Mrs. Godd&rsquo;s costly garments had ever been worn before, that the costly
+rugs on the floor had never been stepped on before, the very chair on
+which he sat had never been sat on before!
+</p>
+<p>
+Little Ada Ruth had called Mrs. Godd &ldquo;the mother of all the world;&rdquo; and
+now suddenly she became the mother of Peter Gudge. She had read the papers
+that morning, she had received a half dozen telephone calls from horrified
+and indignant Reds, and so a few words sufficed to explain to her the
+meaning of Peter&rsquo;s bandages and plasters. She held out to him a beautiful
+cool hand, and quite without warning, tears sprang into the great blue
+eyes.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Oh, you are one of those poor boys! Thank God they did not kill you!&rdquo; And
+she led him to a soft couch and made him lie down amid silken pillows.
+Peter&rsquo;s dream of Mount Olympus had come literally true! It occurred to him
+that if Mrs. Godd were willing to play permanently the role of mother to
+Peter Gudge, he would be willing to give up his role of anti-Red agent
+with its perils and its nervous strains; he would forget duty, forget the
+world&rsquo;s strife and care; he would join the lotus-eaters, the sippers of
+nectar on Mount Olympus!
+</p>
+<p>
+She sat and talked to him in the soft, gentle voice, and the kind blue
+eyes watched him, and Peter thought that never in all his life had he
+encountered such heavenly emotions. To be sure, when he had gone to see
+Miriam Yankovich, old Mrs. Yankovich had been just as kind, and tears of
+sympathy had come into her eyes just the same. But then, Mrs. Yankovich
+was nothing but a fat old Jewess, who lived in a tenement and smelt of
+laundry soap and partly completed washing; her hands had been hot and
+slimy, and so Peter had not been in the least grateful for her kindness.
+But to encounter tender emotions in these celestial regions, to be talked
+to maternally and confidentially by this wonderful Mrs. Godd in soft white
+chiffons just out of a band-box <i>this </i>was quite another matter!
+</p>
+<p>
+<br /><br />
+</p>
+<hr />
+<p>
+<a name="link2H_4_0063" id="link2H_4_0063"> </a>
+</p>
+<div style="height: 4em;">
+<br /><br /><br /><br />
+</div>
+<h2>
+Section 63
+</h2>
+<p>
+Peter did not want to set traps for this mother of Mount Olympus, he
+didn&rsquo;t want to worm any secrets from her. And as it happened, he found
+that he did not have to, because she told him everything right away, and
+without the slightest hesitation. She talked just as the &ldquo;wobblies&rdquo; had
+talked in their headquarters; and Peter, when he thought it over, realized
+that there are two kinds of people who can afford to be frank in their
+utterance&mdash;those who have nothing to lose, and those who have so much
+to lose that they cannot possibly lose it.
+</p>
+<p>
+Mrs. Godd said that what had been done to those men last night was a
+crime, and it ought to be punished if ever a crime was punished, and that
+she would like to engage detectives and get evidence against the guilty
+ones. She said furthermore that she sympathized with the Reds of the very
+reddest shade, and if there were any color redder than Red she would be of
+that color. She said all this in her quiet, soft voice. Tears came into
+her eyes now and then, but they were well-behaved tears, they disappeared
+of their own accord, and without any injury to Mrs. Godd&rsquo;s complexion, or
+any apparent effect upon her self-possession.
+</p>
+<p>
+Mrs. Godd said that she didn&rsquo;t see how anybody could fail to be a Red who
+thought about the injustices of present-day society. Only a few days
+before she had been in to see the district attorney, and had tried to make
+a Red out of him! Then she told Peter how there had come to see her a man
+who had pretended to be a radical, but she had realized that he didn&rsquo;t
+know anything about radicalism, and had told him she was sure he was a
+government agent. The man had finally admitted it, and showed her his gold
+star&mdash;and then Mrs. Godd had set to work to convert him! She had
+argued with him for an hour or two, and then had invited him to go to the
+opera with her. &ldquo;And do you know,&rdquo; said Mrs. Godd, in an injured tone, &ldquo;he
+wouldn&rsquo;t go! They don&rsquo;t want to be converted, those men; they don&rsquo;t want
+to listen to reason. I believe the man was actually afraid I might
+influence him.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;I shouldn&rsquo;t wonder,&rdquo; put in Peter, sympathetically; for he was a tiny bit
+afraid himself.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;I said to him, &lsquo;Here I live in this palace, and back in the industrial
+quarter of the city are several thousand men and women who slave at
+machines for me all day, and now, since the war, all night too. I get the
+profits of these peoples&rsquo; toil&mdash;and what have I done to earn it?
+Absolutely nothing! I never did a stroke of useful work in my life.&rsquo; And
+he said to me, &lsquo;Suppose the dividends were to stop, what would you do?&rsquo; &lsquo;I
+don&rsquo;t know what I&rsquo;d do,&rsquo; I answered, &lsquo;I&rsquo;d be miserable, of course, because
+I hate poverty, I couldn&rsquo;t stand it, it&rsquo;s terrible to think of&mdash;not
+to have comfort and cleanliness and security. I don&rsquo;t see how the
+working-class stand it&mdash;that&rsquo;s exactly why I&rsquo;m a Red, I know it&rsquo;s
+wrong for anyone to be poor, and there&rsquo;s no excuse for it. So I shall help
+to overthrow the capitalist system, even if it means I have to take in
+washing for my living!&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+Peter sat watching her in the crisp freshness of her snowy chiffons. The
+words brought a horrible image to his mind; he suddenly found himself back
+in the tenement kitchen, where fat and steaming Mrs. Yankovich was
+laboring elbow deep in soap-suds. It was on the tip of Peter&rsquo;s tongue to
+say: &ldquo;If you really had done a day&rsquo;s washing, Mrs. Godd, you wouldn&rsquo;t talk
+like that!&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+But he remembered that he must play the game, so he said, &ldquo;They&rsquo;re
+terrible fellows, them Federal agents. It was two of them pounded me over
+the head last night.&rdquo; And then he looked faint and pitiful, and Mrs. Godd
+was sympathetic again, and moved to more recklessness of utterance.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;It&rsquo;s because of this hideous war!&rdquo; she declared. &ldquo;We&rsquo;ve gone to war to
+make the world safe for democracy, and meantime we have to sacrifice every
+bit of democracy at home. They tell you that you must hold your peace
+while they murder one another, but they may try all they please, they&rsquo;ll
+never be able to silence me! I know that the Allies are just as much to
+blame as the Germans, I know that this is a war of profiteers and bankers;
+they may take my sons and force them into the army, but they cannot take
+my convictions and force them into their army. I am a pacifist, and I am
+an internationalist; I want to see the workers arise and turn out of
+office these capitalist governments, and put an end to this hideous
+slaughter of human beings. I intend to go on saying that so long as I
+live.&rdquo; There sat Mrs. Godd, with her lovely firm white hands clasped as if
+in prayer, one large diamond ring on the left fourth finger shining
+defiance, and a look of calm, child-like conviction upon her face,
+confronting in her imagination all the federal agents and district
+attorneys and capitalist judges and statesmen and generals and drill
+sergeants in the civilized world.
+</p>
+<p>
+She went on to tell how she had attended the trial of three pacifist
+clergymen a week or two previously. How atrocious that Christians in a
+Christian country should be sent to prison for trying to repeat the words
+of Christ! &ldquo;I was so indignant,&rdquo; declared Mrs. Godd, &ldquo;that I wrote a
+letter to the judge. My husband said I would be committing contempt of
+court by writing to a judge during the trial, but I answered that my
+contempt for that court was beyond anything I could put into writing. Wait&mdash;&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+And Mrs. Godd rose gravely from her chair and went over to a desk by the
+wall, and got a copy of the letter. &ldquo;I&rsquo;ll read it to you,&rdquo; she said, and
+Peter listened to a manifesto of Olympian Bolshevism&mdash;
+</p>
+<p>
+To His Honor:
+</p>
+<p>
+As I entered the sanctuary, I gazed upward to the stained glass dome, upon
+which were inscribed four words: Peace. Justice. Truth. Law&mdash;and I
+felt hopeful. Before me were men who had violated no constitutional right,
+who had not the slightest criminal tendency, who, were opposed to violence
+of every kind.
+</p>
+<p>
+The trial proceeded. I looked again at the beautiful stained glass dome,
+and whispered to myself those majestic-sounding words: &ldquo;Peace. Justice.
+Truth. Law.&rdquo; I listened to the prosecutors; the Law in their hands was a
+hard, sharp, cruel blade, seeking insistently, relentlessly for a weak
+spot in the armor of its victims. I listened to their Truth, and it was
+Falsehood. Their Peace was a cruel and bloody War. Their justice was a net
+to catch the victims at any cost&mdash;at the cost of all things but the
+glory of the Prosecutor&rsquo;s office.
+</p>
+<p>
+I grew sick at heart. I can only ask myself the old, old question: What
+can we, the people do? How can we bring Peace, justice, Truth and Law to
+the world? Must we go on bended knees and ask our public servants to see
+that justice is done to the defenceless, rather than this eternal
+prosecuting of the world&rsquo;s noblest souls! You will find these men guilty,
+and sentence them to be shut behind iron bars&mdash;which should never be
+for human beings, no matter what their crime, unless you want to make
+beasts of them. Is that your object, sir? It would seem so; and so I say
+that we must overturn the system that is brutalizing, rather than helping
+and uplifting mankind.
+</p>
+<p>
+Yours for Peace..Justice..Truth..Law&mdash;
+</p>
+<p>
+Mary Angelica Godd.
+</p>
+<p>
+What were you going to do with such a woman? Peter could understand the
+bewilderment of His Honor, and of the district attorney&rsquo;s office, and of
+the secret service department of the Traction Trust&mdash;as well as of
+Mrs. Godd&rsquo;s husband! Peter was bewildered himself; what was the use of his
+coming out here to get more information, when Mrs. Godd had already
+committed contempt of court in writing, and had given all the information
+there was to give to a Federal agent? She had told this man that she had
+contributed several thousand dollars to the Peoples&rsquo; Council, and that she
+intended to contribute more. She had put up bail for a whole bunch of Reds
+and Pacifists, and she intended to put up bail for McCormick and his
+friends, just as soon as the corrupt capitalist courts had been forced to
+admit them to bail. &ldquo;I know McCormick well, and he&rsquo;s a lovely boy,&rdquo; she
+said. &ldquo;I don&rsquo;t believe he had anything more to do with dynamite bombs than
+I have.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+Now all this time Peter had sat there, entirely under the spell of Mrs.
+Godd&rsquo;s opulence. Peter was dwelling among the lotus-eaters, and forgetting
+the world&rsquo;s strife and care; he was reclining on a silken couch, sipping
+nectar with the shining ones of Mount Olympus. But now suddenly, Peter was
+brought back to duty, as one wakes from a dream to the sound of an
+alarm-clock. Mrs. Godd was a friend of Mac&rsquo;s, Mrs. Godd proposed to get
+Mac out on bail! Mac, the most dangerous Red of them all! Peter saw that
+he must get something on this woman at once!
+</p>
+<p>
+<br /><br />
+</p>
+<hr />
+<p>
+<a name="link2H_4_0064" id="link2H_4_0064"> </a>
+</p>
+<div style="height: 4em;">
+<br /><br /><br /><br />
+</div>
+<h2>
+Section 64
+</h2>
+<p>
+Peter sat up suddenly among his silken cushions, and began to tell Mrs.
+Godd about the new plan of the Anti-conscription League, to prepare a set
+of instructions for young conscientious objectors. Peter represented the
+purpose of these instructions to be the advising of young men as to their
+legal and constitutional rights. But it was McGivney&rsquo;s idea that Peter
+should slip into the instructions some phrase advising the young men to
+refuse military duty; if this were printed and circulated, it would render
+every member of the Anti-conscription League liable to a sentence of ten
+or twenty years in jail. McGivney had warned Peter to be very cautious
+about this, but again Peter found that there was no need of caution. Mrs.
+Godd was perfectly willing to advise young men to refuse military service.
+She had advised many such, she said, including her own sons, who
+unfortunately agreed with their father in being blood-thirsty.
+</p>
+<p>
+It came to be lunch-time, and Mrs. Godd asked if Peter could sit at table&mdash;and
+Peter&rsquo;s curiosity got the better of all caution. He wanted to see the Godd
+family sipping their nectar out of golden cups. He wondered, would the
+disapproving husband and the blood-thirsty sons be present?
+</p>
+<p>
+There was nobody present but an elderly woman companion, and Peter did not
+see any golden cups. But he saw some fine china, so fragile that he was
+afraid to touch it, and he saw a row of silver implements, so heavy that
+it gave him a surprise each time he picked one up. Also, he saw foods
+prepared in strange and complicated ways, so chopped up and covered with
+sauces that it was literally true he couldn&rsquo;t give the name of a single
+thing he had eaten, except the buttered toast.
+</p>
+<p>
+He was inwardly quaking with embarrassment during this meal, but he saved
+himself by Mrs. James&rsquo;s formula, to watch and see what the others were
+doing and then do likewise. Each time a new course was brought, Peter
+would wait, and when he saw Mrs. Godd pick up a certain fork or a certain
+spoon, he would pick up the same one, or as near to it as he could guess.
+He could put his whole mind on this, because he didn&rsquo;t have to do any
+talking; Mrs. Godd poured out a steady stream of sedition and high
+treason, and all Peter had to do was to listen and nod. Mrs. Godd would
+understand that his mouth was too full for utterance.
+</p>
+<p>
+After the luncheon they went out on the broad veranda which overlooked a
+magnificent landscape. The hostess got Peter settled in a soft porch chair
+with many cushions, and then waved her hand toward the view of the city
+with its haze of thick black smoke.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;That&rsquo;s where my wage slaves toil to earn my dividends,&rdquo; said she.
+&ldquo;They&rsquo;re supposed to stay there&mdash;in their &lsquo;place,&rsquo; as it&rsquo;s called,
+and I stay here in my place. If they want to change places, it&rsquo;s called
+‘revolution,&rsquo; and that is &lsquo;violence.&rsquo; What I marvel at is that they use so
+little violence, and feel so little. Look at those men being tortured in
+jail! Could anyone blame them if they used violence? Or if they made an
+effort to escape?&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+That suggested a swift, stabbing idea to Peter. Suppose Mrs. Godd could be
+induced to help in a jail delivery!
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;It might be possible to help them to escape,&rdquo; he suggested.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Do you think so?&rdquo; asked Mrs. Godd, showing excitement for the first time
+during that interview.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;It might be,&rdquo; said Peter. &ldquo;Those jailors are not above taking bribes, you
+know. I met nearly all of them while I was in that jail, and I think I
+might get in touch with one or two that could be paid. Would you like me
+to try it?&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Well, I don&rsquo;t know&mdash;&rdquo; began the lady, hesitatingly. &ldquo;Do you really
+think&mdash;&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;You know they never ought to have been put in at all!&rdquo; Peter interjected.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;That&rsquo;s certainly true!&rdquo; declared Mrs. Godd.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;And if they could escape without hurting anyone, if they didn&rsquo;t have to
+fight the jailors, it wouldn&rsquo;t do any real harm&mdash;&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+That was as far as Peter got with his impromptu conspiracy. Suddenly he
+heard a voice behind him: &ldquo;What does this mean?&rdquo; It was a male voice,
+fierce and trembling with anger; and Peter started from his silken
+cushions, and glanced around, thrusting up one arm with the defensive
+gesture of a person who has been beaten since earliest childhood.
+</p>
+<p>
+Bearing down on him was a man; possibly he was not an abnormally big man,
+but certainly he looked so to Peter. His smooth-shaven face was pink with
+anger, his brows gathered in a terrible frown, and his hands clenched with
+deadly significance. &ldquo;You dirty little skunk!&rdquo; he hissed. &ldquo;You infernal
+young sneak!&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;John!&rdquo; cried Mrs. Godd, imperiously; but she might as well have cried to
+an advancing thunder-storm. The man made a leap upon Peter, and Peter, who
+had dodged many hundreds of blows in his lifetime, rolled off the lounging
+chair, and leaped to his feet, and started for the stairs of the veranda.
+The man was right behind him, and as Peter reached the first stair the
+man&rsquo;s foot shot out, and caught Peter fairly in the seat of his trousers,
+and the first stair was the only one of the ten or twelve stairs of the
+veranda that Peter touched in his descent.
+</p>
+<p>
+Landing at the bottom, he did not stop even for a glance; he could hear
+the snorting of Mr. Godd, it seemed right behind his ear, and Peter ran
+down the driveway as he had seldom run in his life before. Every now and
+then Mr. Godd would shoot out another kick, but he had to stop slightly to
+do this, and Peter gained just enough to keep the kicks from reaching him.
+So at last the pursuer gave up, and Peter dashed thru the gates of the
+Godd estate and onto the main highway.
+</p>
+<p>
+Then he looked over his shoulder, and seeing that Mr. Godd was a safe
+distance away, he stopped and turned and shook his clenched fist with the
+menace of a street-rat, shrieking, &ldquo;Damn you! Damn you!&rdquo; A whirlwind of
+impotent rage laid hold upon him. He shouted more curses and menaces, and
+among them some strange, some almost incredible words. &ldquo;Yes, I&rsquo;m a Red,
+damn your soul, and I&rsquo;ll stay a Red!&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+Yes, Peter Gudge, the friend of law and order, Peter Gudge, the little
+brother to the rich, shouted, &ldquo;I&rsquo;m a Red, and what&rsquo;s more, we&rsquo;ll blow you
+up some day for this&mdash;Mac and me&rsquo;ll put a bomb under you!&rdquo; Mr. Godd
+turned and stalked with contemptuous dignity back to his own private
+domestic controversy.
+</p>
+<p>
+Peter walked off down the road, rubbing his sore trousers and sobbing to
+himself. Yes, Peter understood now exactly how the Reds felt. Here were
+these rich parasites, exploiting the labor of working men and living off
+in palaces by themselves&mdash;and what had they done to earn it? What
+would they ever do for the poor man, except to despise him, and to kick
+him in the seat of his trousers? They were a set of wilful brutes! Peter
+suddenly saw the happenings of last night from a new angle, and wished he
+had all the younger members of the Chamber of Commerce and the Merchants&rsquo; 
+and Manufacturers&rsquo; Association right there along with Mr. Godd, so that he
+could bundle them all off to the devil at once.
+</p>
+<p>
+And that was no passing mood either. The seat of Peter&rsquo;s trousers hurt so
+that he could hardly endure the trolley ride home, and all the way Peter
+was plotting how he could punish Mr. Godd. He remembered suddenly that Mr.
+Godd was an associate of Nelse Ackerman; and Peter now had a spy in Nelse
+Ackerman&rsquo;s home, and was preparing some kind of a &ldquo;frame-up!&rdquo; Peter would
+see if he couldn&rsquo;t find some way to start a dynamite conspiracy against
+Mr. Godd! He would start a campaign against Mr. Godd in the radical
+movement, and maybe he could find some way to get a bunch of the
+&ldquo;wobblies&rdquo; to carry him off and tie him up and beat him with a black-snake
+whip!
+</p>
+<p>
+<br /><br />
+</p>
+<hr />
+<p>
+<a name="link2H_4_0065" id="link2H_4_0065"> </a>
+</p>
+<div style="height: 4em;">
+<br /><br /><br /><br />
+</div>
+<h2>
+Section 65
+</h2>
+<p>
+With these reflections Peter went back to the American House, where
+McGivney had promised to meet him that evening. Peter went to Room 427,
+and being tired after the previous night&rsquo;s excitement, he lay down and
+fell fast asleep. And when again he opened his eyes, he wasn&rsquo;t sure
+whether it was a nightmare, or whether he had died in his sleep and gone
+to hell with Mr. Godd. Somebody was shaking him, and bidding him in a
+gruff voice, &ldquo;Wake up!&rdquo; Peter opened his eyes, and saw that it was
+McGivney; and that was all right, it was natural that McGivney should be
+waking him up. But what was this? McGivney&rsquo;s voice was angry, McGivney&rsquo;s
+face was dark and glowering, and&mdash;most incredible circumstance of all&mdash;McGivney
+had a revolver in his hand, and was pointing it into Peter&rsquo;s face!
+</p>
+<p>
+It really made it much harder for Peter to get awake, because he couldn&rsquo;t
+believe that he was awake; also it made it harder for McGivney to get any
+sense out of him, because his jaw hung down, and he stared with terrified
+eyes into the muzzle of the revolver.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;M-m-my God, Mr. McGivney! w-w-what&rsquo;s the matter?&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Get up here!&rdquo; hissed the rat-faced man, and he added a vile name. He
+gripped Peter by the lapel of his coat and half jerked him to his feet,
+still keeping the muzzle of the revolver in Peter&rsquo;s face. And poor Peter,
+trying desperately to get his wits together, thought of half a dozen wild
+guesses one after another. Could it be that McGivney had heard him
+denouncing Mr. Godd and proclaiming himself a Red? Could it be that some
+of the Reds had framed up something on Peter? Could it be that McGivney
+had gone just plain crazy; that Peter was in the room with a maniac armed
+with a revolver?
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Where did you put that money I gave you the other day;&rdquo; demanded
+McGivney, and added some more vile names.
+</p>
+<p>
+Instantly, of course, Peter was on the defensive. No matter how frightened
+he might be, Peter would never fail to hang on to his money.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;I-I s-s-spent it, Mr. McGivney.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;You&rsquo;re lying to me!&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;N-n-no.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Tell me where you put that money!&rdquo; insisted the man, and his face was
+ugly with anger, and the muzzle of the revolver seemed to be trembling
+with anger. Peter started to insist that he had spent every cent. &ldquo;Make
+him cough up, Hammett!&rdquo; said McGivney; and Peter for the first time
+realized that there was another man in the room. His eyes had been so
+fascinated by the muzzle of the revolver that he hadn&rsquo;t taken a glance
+about.
+</p>
+<p>
+Hammett was a big fellow, and he strode up to Peter and grabbed one of
+Peter&rsquo;s arms, and twisted it around behind Peter&rsquo;s back and up between
+Peter&rsquo;s shoulders. When Peter started to scream, Hammett clapped his other
+hand over his mouth, and so Peter knew that it was all up. He could not
+hold on to money at that cost. When McGivney asked him, &ldquo;Will you tell me
+where it is?&rdquo; Peter nodded, and tried to answer thru his nose.
+</p>
+<p>
+So Hammett took his hand from his mouth. &ldquo;Where is it?&rdquo; And Peter replied,
+&ldquo;In my right shoe.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+Hammett unlaced the shoe and took it off, and pulled out the inside sole,
+and underneath was a little flat package wrapped in tissue paper, and
+inside the tissue paper was the thousand dollars that McGivney had given
+Peter, and also the three hundred dollars which Peter had saved from Nelse
+Ackerman&rsquo;s present, and two hundred dollars which he had saved from his
+salary. Hammett counted the money, and McGivney stuck it into his pocket,
+and then he commanded Peter to put on his shoe again. Peter obeyed with
+his trembling fingers, meantime keeping his eye in part on the revolver
+and in part on the face of the rat.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;W-w-what&rsquo;s the matter, Mr. McGivney?&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;You&rsquo;ll find out in time,&rdquo; was the answer. &ldquo;Now, you march downstairs, and
+remember, I&rsquo;ve got this gun on you, and there&rsquo;s eight bullets in it, and
+if you move a finger I&rsquo;ll put them all into you.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+So Peter and McGivney and Hammett went down in the elevator of the hotel,
+and out of doors, and into an automobile. Hammett drove, and Peter sat in
+the rear seat with McGivney, who had the revolver in his coat pocket, his
+finger always on the trigger and the muzzle always pointed into Peter&rsquo;s
+middle. So Peter obeyed all orders promptly, and stopped asking questions
+because he found he could get no answers.
+</p>
+<p>
+Meantime he was using his terrified wits on the problem. The best guess he
+could make was that Guffey had decided to believe Joe Angell&rsquo;s story
+instead of Peter&rsquo;s. But then, why all this gun-play, this movie stuff?
+Peter gave up in despair; and it was just as well, for what had happened
+lay entirely beyond the guessing power of Peter&rsquo;s mind or any other mind.
+</p>
+<p>
+<br /><br />
+</p>
+<hr />
+<p>
+<a name="link2H_4_0066" id="link2H_4_0066"> </a>
+</p>
+<div style="height: 4em;">
+<br /><br /><br /><br />
+</div>
+<h2>
+Section 66
+</h2>
+<p>
+They went to the office of the secret service department of the Traction
+Trust, a place where Peter had never been allowed to come hitherto. It was
+on the fourteenth floor of the Merchant&rsquo;s Trust Building, and the sign on
+the door read: &ldquo;The American City Land &amp; Investment Company. Walk In.&rdquo;
+ When you walked in, you saw a conventional real estate office, and it was
+only when you had penetrated several doors that you came to the secret
+rooms where Guffey and his staff conducted the espionage work of the big
+business interests of the city.
+</p>
+<p>
+Peter was hustled into one of these rooms, and there stood Guffey; and the
+instant Guffey saw him, he bore down upon him, shaking his fist. &ldquo;You
+stinking puppy!&rdquo; he exclaimed. &ldquo;You miserable little whelp! You dirty,
+sneaking hound!&rdquo; He added a number of other descriptive phrases taken from
+the vocabulary of the kennel.
+</p>
+<p>
+Peter&rsquo;s knees were shaking, his teeth were chattering, and he watched
+every motion of Guffey&rsquo;s angry fingers, and every grimace of Guffey&rsquo;s
+angry features. Peter had been fully prepared for the most horrible
+torture he had experienced yet; but gradually he realized that he wasn&rsquo;t
+going to be tortured, he was only going to be scolded and raged at, and no
+words could describe the wave of relief in his soul. In the course of his
+street-rat&rsquo;s life Peter had been called more names than Guffey could think
+of if he spent the next month trying. If all Guffey was going to do was to
+pace up and down the room, and shake his fist under Peter&rsquo;s nose every
+time he passed him, and compare him with every kind of a domestic animal,
+Peter could stand it all night without a murmur.
+</p>
+<p>
+He stopped trying to find out what it was that had happened, because he
+saw that this only drove Guffey to fresh fits of exasperation. Guffey
+didn&rsquo;t want to talk to Peter, he didn&rsquo;t want to hear the sound of Peter&rsquo;s
+whining gutter-pup&rsquo;s voice. All he wanted was to pour out his rage, and
+have Peter listen in abject abasement, and this Peter did. But meantime,
+of course, Peter&rsquo;s wits were working at high speed, he was trying to pick
+up hints as to what the devil it could mean. One thing was quite clear&mdash;the
+damage, whatever it was, was done; the jig was up, it was all over but the
+funeral. They had taken Peter&rsquo;s money to pay for the funeral, and that was
+all they hoped to get out of him.
+</p>
+<p>
+Gradually came other hints. &ldquo;So you thought you were going into business
+on your own!&rdquo; snarled Guffey, and his fist, which was under Peter&rsquo;s nose,
+gave an upward poke that almost dislocated Peter&rsquo;s neck.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Aha!&rdquo; thought Peter. &ldquo;Nelse Ackerman has given me away!&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;You thought you were going to make your fortune and retire for life on
+your income!&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+Yes, that was it, surely! But what could Nelse Ackerman have told that was
+so very bad?
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;You were going to have a spy of your own, set up your own bureau, and
+kick me out, perhaps!&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;My God!&rdquo; thought Peter. &ldquo;Who told that?&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+Then suddenly Guffey stopped in front of him. &ldquo;Was that what you thought?&rdquo;
+ he demanded. He repeated the question, and it appeared that he really
+wanted an answer, and so Peter stammered, &ldquo;N-n-no, sir.&rdquo; But evidently the
+answer didn&rsquo;t suit Guffey, for he grabbed Peter&rsquo;s nose and gave it a tweak
+that brought the tears into his eyes.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;What was it then?&rdquo; A nasty sneer came on the head detective&rsquo;s face, and
+he laughed at Peter with a laugh of venomous contempt. &ldquo;I suppose you
+thought she really loved you! Was it that? You thought she really loved
+you?&rdquo; And McGivney and Hammett and Guffey ha-ha-ed together, and to Peter
+it seemed like the mockery of demons in the undermost pit of hell. Those
+words brought every pillar of Peter&rsquo;s dream castle tumbling in ruins about
+his ears. Guffey had found out about Nell!
+</p>
+<p>
+Again and again on the automobile ride to Guffey&rsquo;s office Peter had
+reminded himself of Nell&rsquo;s command, &ldquo;Stick it out, Peter! Stick it out!&rdquo;
+ He had meant to stick it out in spite of everything; but now in a flash he
+saw that all was lost. How could he stick it out when they knew about
+Nell, and when Nell, herself, was no longer sticking it out?
+</p>
+<p>
+Guffey saw these thoughts plainly written in Peter&rsquo;s face, and his sneer
+turned into a snarl. &ldquo;So you think you&rsquo;ll tell me the truth now, do you?
+Well, it happens there&rsquo;s nothing left to tell!&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+Again he turned and began pacing up and down the room. The pressure of
+rage inside him was so great that it took still more time to work it off.
+But finally the head detective sat down at his desk, and opened the drawer
+and took out a paper. &ldquo;I see you&rsquo;re sitting there, trying to think up some
+new lie to tell me,&rdquo; said he. And Peter did not try to deny it, because
+any kind of denial only caused a fresh access of rage. &ldquo;All right,&rdquo; Guffey
+said, &ldquo;I&rsquo;ll read you this, and you can see just where you stand, and just
+how many kinds of a boob you are.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+So he started to read the letter; and before Peter had heard one sentence,
+he knew this was a letter from Nell, and he knew that the castle of his
+dreams was flat in the dust forever. The ruins of Sargon and Nineveh were
+not more hopelessly flat!
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Dear Mr. Guffey,&rdquo; read the letter, &ldquo;I am sorry to throw you down, but
+fifty thousand dollars is a lot of money, and we all get tired of work and
+need a rest. This is to tell you that Ted Crothers has just broke into
+Nelse Ackerman&rsquo;s safe in his home, and we have got some liberty bonds and
+some jewels which we guess to be worth fifty thousand dollars, and you
+know Ted is a good judge of jewels.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Now of course you will find out that I was working in Mr. Ackerman&rsquo;s home
+and you will be after me hot-foot, so I might as well tell you about it,
+and tell you it won&rsquo;t do you any good to catch us, because we have got all
+the inside dope on the Goober frame-up, and everything else your bureau
+has been pulling off in American City for the last year. You can ask Peter
+Gudge and he&rsquo;ll tell you. It was Peter and me that fixed up that dynamite
+conspiracy, but you mustn&rsquo;t blame Peter, because he only did what I told
+him to do. He hasn&rsquo;t got sense enough to be really dangerous, and he will
+make you a perfectly good agent if you treat him kind and keep him away
+from the women. You can do that easy enough if you don&rsquo;t let him get any
+money, because of course he&rsquo;s nothing much on looks, and the women would
+never bother with him if you didn&rsquo;t pay him too much.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Now Peter will tell you how we framed up that dynamite job, and of course
+you wouldn&rsquo;t want that to get known to the Reds, and you may be sure that
+if Ted and me get pinched, we&rsquo;ll find some way to let the Reds know all
+about it. If you keep quiet we&rsquo;ll never say a word, and you&rsquo;ve got a
+perfectly good dynamite conspiracy, with all the evidence you need to put
+the Reds out of business, and you can just figure it cost you fifty
+thousand dollars, and it was cheap at the price, because Nelse Ackerman
+has paid a whole lot more for your work, and you never got anything half
+as big as this. I know you&rsquo;ll be mad when you read this, but think it over
+and keep your shirt on. I send it to you by messenger so you can get hold
+of Nelse Ackerman right quick, and have him not say anything to the
+police; because you know how it is&mdash;if those babies find it out, it
+will get to the Reds and the newspapers, and it&rsquo;ll be all over town and do
+a lot of harm to your frame-up. And you know after those Reds have got
+beaten up and Shawn Grady lynched, you wouldn&rsquo;t like to have any rumor get
+out that that dynamite was planted by your own people. Ted and me will
+keep out of sight, and we won&rsquo;t sell the jewels for a while, and
+everything will be all right.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Yours respectfully,
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Edythe.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;P. S. It really ain&rsquo;t Peter&rsquo;s fault that he&rsquo;s silly about women, and he
+would have worked for you all right if it hadn&rsquo;t been for my good looks!&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+<br /><br />
+</p>
+<hr />
+<p>
+<a name="link2H_4_0067" id="link2H_4_0067"> </a>
+</p>
+<div style="height: 4em;">
+<br /><br /><br /><br />
+</div>
+<h2>
+Section 67
+</h2>
+<p>
+So there it was. When Peter had heard this letter, he understood that
+there was no more to be said, and he said it. His own weight had suddenly
+become more than he could support, and he saw a chair nearby and slipped
+into it, and sat with eyes of abject misery roaming from Guffey to
+McGivney, and from McGivney to Hammett, and then back to Guffey again.
+</p>
+<p>
+The head detective, for all his anger, was a practical man; he could not
+have managed the very important and confidential work of the Traction
+Trust if he had not been. So now he proceeded to get down to business.
+Peter would please tell him everything about that dynamite frame-up; just
+how they had managed it and just who knew about it. And Peter, being also
+a practical man, knew that there was no use trying to hide anything. He
+told the story from beginning to end, taking particular pains to make
+clear that he and Nell alone were in the secret&mdash;-except that beyond
+doubt Nell had told her lover, Ted Crothers. It was probably Crothers that
+got the dynamite. From the conversation that ensued Peter gathered that
+this young man with the face of a bull-dog was one of the very fanciest
+safecrackers in the country, and no doubt he was the real brains of the
+conspiracy; he had put Nell up to it, and managed every step. Suddenly
+Peter remembered all the kisses which Nell had given him in the park, and
+he found a blush of shame stealing over him. Yes, there was no doubt about
+it, he was a boob where women were concerned!
+</p>
+<p>
+Peter began to plead for himself, Really it wasn&rsquo;t his fault because Nell
+had got a hold on him. In the Temple of Jimjambo, when he was only a kid,
+he had been desperately in love with her. She was not only beautiful, she
+was so smart; she was the smartest woman he had ever known. McGivney
+remarked that she had been playing with Peter even then&mdash;she had been
+in Guffey&rsquo;s pay at that time, collecting evidence to put Pashtian el
+Kalandra in jail and break up the cult of Eleutherinian Exoticism. She had
+done many such jobs for the secret service of the Traction Trust, while
+Peter was still traveling around with Pericles Priam selling patent
+medicine. Nell had been used by Guffey to seduce a prominent labor leader
+in American City; she had got him caught in a hotel room with her, and
+thus had broken the back of the biggest labor strike ever known in the
+city&rsquo;s history.
+</p>
+<p>
+Peter felt suddenly that he had a good defense. Of course a woman like
+that had been too much for him! It was Guffey&rsquo;s own fault if he hired
+people like that and turned them loose! It suddenly dawned on Peter&mdash;Nell
+must have found out that he, Peter, was going to meet young Lackman in the
+Hotel de Soto, and she must have gone there deliberately to ensnare him.
+When McGivney admitted that that was possibly true, Peter felt that he had
+a case, and proceeded to urge it with eloquence. He had been a fool, of
+course, every kind of fool there was, and he hadn&rsquo;t a word to say for
+himself; but he had learned his lesson and learned it thoroughly. No more
+women for him, and no more high life, and if Mr. Guffey would give him
+another chance&mdash;
+</p>
+<p>
+Guffey, of course, snorted at him. He wouldn&rsquo;t have a pudding-head like
+Peter Gudge within ten miles of his office! But Peter only pleaded the
+more abjectly. He really did know the Reds thoroughly, and where could Mr.
+Guffey find anybody that knew them as well? The Reds all trusted him; he
+was a real martyr&mdash;look at the plasters all over him now! And he had
+just added another Red laurel to his brow&mdash;he had been to see Mrs.
+Godd, and had had the seat of his trousers kicked by Mr. Godd, and of
+course he could tell that story, and maybe he could catch some Reds in a
+conspiracy against Mr. Godd. Anyhow, they had that perfectly good case
+against McCormick and the rest of the I. W. Ws. And now that things had
+gone so far, surely they couldn&rsquo;t back down on that case! All that was
+necessary was to explain matters to Mr. Ackerman&mdash;
+</p>
+<p>
+Peter realized that this was an unfortunate remark. Guffey was on his feet
+again, pacing up and down the room, calling Peter the names of all the
+barnyard animals, and incidentally revealing that he had already had an
+interview with Mr. Ackerman, and that Mr. Ackerman was not disposed to
+receive amicably the news that the secret service bureau which he had been
+financing, and which was supposed to be protecting him, had been the means
+of introducing into his home a couple of high-class criminals who had
+cracked his safe and made off with jewels that they guessed were worth
+fifty thousand dollars, but that Mr. Ackerman claimed were worth
+eighty-five thousand dollars. Peter was informed that he might thank his
+lucky stars that Guffey didn&rsquo;t shut him in the hole for the balance of his
+life, or take him into a dungeon and pull him to pieces inch by inch. As
+it was, all he had to do was to get himself out of Guffey&rsquo;s office, and
+take himself to hell by the quickest route he could find. &ldquo;Go on!&rdquo; said
+Guffey. &ldquo;I mean it, get out!&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+And so Peter got to his feet and started unsteadily toward the door. He
+was thinking to himself: &ldquo;Shall I threaten them? Shall I say I&rsquo;ll go over
+to the Reds and tell what I know?&rdquo; No, he had better not do that; the
+least hint of that might cause Guffey to put him in the hole! But then,
+how was it possible for Guffey to let him go, to take a chance of his
+telling? Right now, Guffey must be thinking to himself that Peter might go
+away, and in a fit of rage or of despair might let out the truth to one of
+the Reds, and then everything would be ruined forever. No, surely Guffey
+would not take such a chance! Peter walked very slowly to the door, he
+opened the door reluctantly, he stood there, holding on as if he were too
+weak to keep his balance; he waited&mdash;waited&mdash;
+</p>
+<p>
+And sure enough, Guffey spoke. &ldquo;Come back here, you mut!&rdquo; And Peter turned
+and started towards the head detective, stretching out his hands in a
+gesture of submission; if it had been in an Eastern country, he would have
+fallen on his knees and struck his forehead three times in the dust.
+&ldquo;Please, please, Mr. Guffey!&rdquo; he wailed. &ldquo;Give me another chance!&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;If I put you to work again,&rdquo; snarled Guffey, &ldquo;will you do what I tell
+you, and not what you want to do yourself?&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Yes, yes, Mr. Guffey.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;You&rsquo;ll do no more frame-ups but my frame-ups?&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Yes, yes, Mr. Guffey.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;All right, then, I&rsquo;ll give you one more chance. But by God, if I find you
+so much as winking at another girl, I&rsquo;ll pull your eye teeth out!&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+And Peter&rsquo;s heart leaped with relief. &ldquo;Oh, thank you, thank you, Mr.
+Guffey!&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;I&rsquo;ll pay you twenty dollars a week, and no more,&rdquo; said Guffey. &ldquo;You&rsquo;re
+worth more, but I can&rsquo;t trust you with money, and you can take it or leave
+it.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;That&rsquo;ll be perfectly satisfactory, Mr. Guffey,&rdquo; said Peter.
+</p>
+<p>
+<br /><br />
+</p>
+<hr />
+<p>
+<a name="link2H_4_0068" id="link2H_4_0068"> </a>
+</p>
+<div style="height: 4em;">
+<br /><br /><br /><br />
+</div>
+<h2>
+Section 68
+</h2>
+<p>
+So there was the end of high life for Peter Gudge. He moved no more in the
+celestial circles of Mount Olympus. He never again saw the Chinese butler
+of Mr. Ackerman, nor the French parlor-maid of Mrs. Godd. He would no more
+be smiled at by the two hundred and twenty-four boy angels of the ceiling
+of the Hotel de Soto lobby. Peter would eat his meals now seated on a
+stool in front of a lunch counter, he would really be the humble
+proletarian, the &ldquo;Jimmie Higgins&rdquo; of his role. He put behind him bright
+dreams of an accumulated competence, and settled down to the hard day&rsquo;s
+work of cultivating the acquaintance of agitators, visiting their homes
+and watching their activities, getting samples of the literature they were
+circulating, stealing their letters and address-books and note-books, and
+taking all these to Room 427 of the American House.
+</p>
+<p>
+These were busy times just now. In spite of the whippings and the
+lynchings and the jailings&mdash;or perhaps because of these very things&mdash;the
+radical movement was seething. The I. W. Ws. had reorganized secretly, and
+were accumulating a defense fund for their prisoners; also, the Socialists
+of all shades of red and pink were busy, and the labor men had never
+ceased their agitation over the Goober case. Just now they were redoubling
+their activities, because Mrs. Goober was being tried for her life. Over
+in Russia a mob of Anarchists had made a demonstration in front of the
+American Legation, because of the mistreatment of a man they called
+&ldquo;Guba.&rdquo; At any rate, that was the way the news came over the cables, and
+the news-distributing associations of the country had been so successful
+in keeping the Goober case from becoming known that the editors of the New
+York papers really did not know any better, and printed the name as it
+came, &ldquo;Guba!&rdquo; which of course gave the radicals a fine chance to laugh at
+them, and say, how much they cared about labor!
+</p>
+<p>
+The extreme Reds seemed to have everything their own way in Russia. Late
+in the fall they overthrew the Russian government, and took control of the
+country, and proceeded to make peace with Germany; which put the Allies in
+a frightful predicament, and introduced a new word into the popular
+vocabulary, the dread word &ldquo;Bolshevik.&rdquo; After that, if a man suggested
+municipal ownership of ice-wagons, all you had to do was to call him a
+&ldquo;Bolshevik&rdquo; and he was done for.
+</p>
+<p>
+However, the extremists replied to this campaign of abuse by taking up the
+name and wearing it as a badge. The Socialist local of American City
+adopted amid a storm of applause a resolution to call itself the
+&ldquo;Bolshevik local,&rdquo; and the &ldquo;left-wingers&rdquo; had everything their own way for
+a time. The leader in this wing was a man named Herbert Ashton, editor of
+the American City &ldquo;Clarion,&rdquo; the party&rsquo;s paper. A newspaper-man, lean,
+sallow, and incredibly bitter, Ashton apparently had spent all his life
+studying the intrigues of international capital, and one never heard an
+argument advanced that he was not ready with an answer. He saw the war as
+a struggle between the old established commercialism of Great Britain,
+whose government he described as &ldquo;a gigantic trading corporation,&rdquo; and the
+newly arisen and more aggressive commercialism of Germany.
+</p>
+<p>
+Ashton would take the formulas of the war propagandists and treat them as
+a terrier treats a rat. So this was a war for democracy! The bankers of
+Paris had for the last twenty years been subsidizing the Russian Tsars,
+who had shipped a hundred thousand exiles to Siberia to make the world
+safe for democracy! The British Empire also had gone to war for democracy&mdash;first
+in Ireland, then in India and Egypt, then in the Whitechapel slums! No,
+said Ashton, the workers were not to be fooled with such bunk. Wall Street
+had loaned some billions of dollars to the Allied bankers, and now the
+American people were asked to shed their blood to make the world safe for
+those loans!
+</p>
+<p>
+Peter had been urging McGivney to put an end to this sort of agitation,
+and now the rat-faced man told him that the time for action had come.
+There was to be a big mass meeting to celebrate the Bolshevik revolution,
+and McGivney warned Peter to keep out of sight at that meeting, because
+there might be some clubbing. Peter left off his red badge, and the button
+with the clasped hands and went up into the gallery and lost himself in
+the crowd. He saw a great many &ldquo;bulls&rdquo; whom he knew scattered thru the
+audience, and also he saw the Chief of Police and the head of the city&rsquo;s
+detective bureau. When Herbert Ashton was half way thru his tirade, the
+Chief strode up to the platform and ordered him under arrest, and a score
+of policemen put themselves between the prisoner and the howling audience.
+</p>
+<p>
+Altogether they arrested seven people; and next morning, when they saw how
+much enthusiasm their action had awakened in the newspapers, they decided
+to go farther yet. A dozen of Guffey&rsquo;s men, with another dozen from the
+District Attorney&rsquo;s office, raided the office of Ashton&rsquo;s paper, the
+&ldquo;Clarion,&rdquo; kicked the editorial staff downstairs or threw them out of the
+windows, and proceeded to smash the typewriters and the printing presses,
+and to carry off the subscription lists and burn a ton or two of
+&ldquo;literature&rdquo; in the back yard. Also they raided the headquarters of the
+&ldquo;Bolshevik local,&rdquo; and placed the seven members of the executive committee
+under arrest, and the judge fixed the bail of each of them at twenty-five
+thousand dollars, and every day for a week or two the American City
+&ldquo;Times&rdquo; would send a man around to Guffey&rsquo;s office, and Guffey would
+furnish him with a mass of material which Peter had prepared, showing that
+the Socialist program was one of terrorism and murder.
+</p>
+<p>
+Almost every day now Peter rendered some such service to his country. He
+discovered where the I. W. W. had hidden a printing press with which they
+were getting out circulars and leaflets, and this place was raided, and
+the press confiscated, and half a dozen more agitators thrown into jail.
+These men declared a hunger strike, and tried to starve themselves to
+death as a protest against the beatings they got; and then some hysterical
+women met in the home of Ada Ruth, and drew up a circular of protest, and
+Peter kept track of the mailing of this circular, and all the copies were
+confiscated in the post-office, and so one more conspiracy was foiled.
+They now had several men at work in the post-office, secretly opening the
+mail of the agitators; and every now and then they would issue an order
+forbidding mail to be delivered to persons whose ideas were not sound.
+</p>
+<p>
+Also the post-office department cancelled the second class mailing
+privileges of the &ldquo;Clarion,&rdquo; and later it barred the paper from the mails
+entirely. A couple of &ldquo;comrades&rdquo; with automobiles then took up the work of
+delivering the paper in the nearby towns; so Peter was sent to get
+acquainted with these fellows, and in the night time some of Guffey&rsquo;s men
+entered the garage, and fixed one of the cars so that its steering gear
+went wrong and very nearly broke the driver&rsquo;s neck. So yet another
+conspiracy was foiled!
+</p>
+<p>
+<br /><br />
+</p>
+<hr />
+<p>
+<a name="link2H_4_0069" id="link2H_4_0069"> </a>
+</p>
+<div style="height: 4em;">
+<br /><br /><br /><br />
+</div>
+<h2>
+Section 69
+</h2>
+<p>
+Peter was really happy now, because the authorities were thoroughly
+roused, and when he brought them new facts, he had the satisfaction of
+seeing something done about it. Ostensibly the action was taken by the
+Federal agents, or by the District Attorney&rsquo;s office, or by the city
+police and detectives; but Peter knew that it was always himself and the
+rest of Guffey&rsquo;s agents, pulling the wires behind the scenes. Guffey had
+the money, he was working for the men who really counted in American City;
+Guffey was the real boss. And all over the country it was the same; the
+Reds were being put out of business by the secret agents of the Chambers
+of Commerce and the Merchants&rsquo; and Manufacturers&rsquo; Associations, and the
+&ldquo;Improve America League,&rdquo; and such like camouflaged organizations.
+</p>
+<p>
+They had everything their own way, because the country was at war, the war
+excitement was blazing like a prairie fire all over the land, and all you
+had to do was to call a man a pro-German or a Bolshevik, and to be
+sufficiently excited about it, and you could get a mob together and go to
+his home and horsewhip him or tar and feather him or lynch him. For years
+the big business men had been hating the agitators, and now at last they
+had their chance, and in every town, in every shop and mill and mine they
+had some Peter Gudge at work, a &ldquo;Jimmie Higgins&rdquo; of the &ldquo;Whites,&rdquo; engaged
+in spying and &ldquo;snooping&rdquo; upon the &ldquo;Jimmie Higgins&rdquo; of the &ldquo;Reds.&rdquo;
+ Everywhere they had Guffeys and McGivneys to direct these activities, and
+they had &ldquo;strong arm men,&rdquo; with guns on their hips and deputy sheriffs&rsquo; 
+and other badges inside their coats, giving them unlimited right to
+protect the country from traitors.
+</p>
+<p>
+There were three or four million men in the training camps, and every week
+great convoys were sent out from the Eastern ports, loaded with troops for
+&ldquo;over there.&rdquo; Billions of dollars worth of munitions and supplies were
+going, and all the yearnings and patriotic fervors of the country were
+likewise going &ldquo;over there.&rdquo; Peter read more speeches and sermons and
+editorials, and was proud and glad, knowing that he was taking his humble
+part in the great adventure. When he read that the biggest captains of
+industry and finance were selling their services to the government for the
+sum of one dollar a year, how could he complain, who was getting twenty
+dollars every week? When some of the Reds in their meetings or in their
+&ldquo;literature&rdquo; declared that these captains of industry and finance were the
+heads of companies which were charging the government enormous prices and
+making anywhere from three to ten times the profits they had made before
+the war&mdash;then Peter would know that he was listening to an extremely
+dangerous Bolshevik; he would take the name of the man to McGivney, and
+McGivney would pull his secret wires, and the man would suddenly find
+himself out of a job&mdash;or maybe being prosecuted by the health
+department of the city for having set out a garbage can without a cover.
+</p>
+<p>
+After persistent agitation, the radicals had succeeded in persuading a
+judge to let out McCormick and the rest of the conspirators on fifty
+thousand dollars bail apiece. That was most exasperating to Peter, because
+it was obvious that when you put a Red into jail, you made him a martyr to
+the rest of the Reds you made him conspicuous to the whole community, and
+then if you let him out again, his speaking and agitating were ten times
+as effective as before. Either you ought to keep an agitator in jail for
+good, or else you ought not put him in at all. But the judges didn&rsquo;t see
+that&mdash;their heads were full of a lot of legal bunk, and they let
+David Andrews and the other Red lawyers hood-wink them. Herbert Ashton and
+his Socialist crowd also got out on bail, and the &ldquo;Clarion&rdquo; was still
+published and openly sold on the news-stands. While it didn&rsquo;t dare oppose
+the war any more, it printed every impolite thing it could possibly
+collect about the &ldquo;gigantic trading corporation&rdquo; known as the British
+Government, and also about the &ldquo;French bankers&rdquo; and the &ldquo;Italian
+imperialists.&rdquo; It clamored for democracy for Ireland and Egypt and India,
+and shamelessly defended the Bolsheviki, those pro-German conspirators and
+nationalizers of women.
+</p>
+<p>
+So Peter proceeded to collect more evidence against the &ldquo;Clarion&rdquo; staff,
+and against the I. W. Ws. Presently he read the good news that the
+government had arrested a couple of hundred of the I. W. W. leaders all
+over the country, and also the national leaders of the Socialists, and was
+going to try them all for conspiracy. Then came the trial of McCormick and
+Henderson and Gus and the rest; and Peter picked up his &ldquo;Times&rdquo; one
+morning, and read on the front page some news that caused him to gasp. Joe
+Angell, one of the leaders in the dynamite conspiracy, had turned state&rsquo;s
+evidence! He had revealed to the District Attorney, not only the part
+which he himself had played in the plan to dynamite Nelse Ackerman&rsquo;s home,
+but he had told everything that the others had done&mdash;just how the
+dynamite had been got and prepared, and the names of all the leading
+citizens of the community who were to share Nelse Ackerman&rsquo;s fate! Peter
+read, on and on, breathless with wonder, and when he got thru with the
+story he rolled back on his bed and laughed out loud. By heck, that was
+the limit! Peter had framed a frame-up on Guffey&rsquo;s man, and of course
+Guffey couldn&rsquo;t send this man to prison; so he had had him turn state&rsquo;s
+evidence, and was letting him go free, as his reward for telling on the
+others!
+</p>
+<p>
+The court calendars were now crowded with &ldquo;espionage&rdquo; cases; pacifist
+clergymen who had tried to preach sermons, and labor leaders who had tried
+to call strikes; members of the Anti-conscription League and their pupils,
+the draft-dodgers and slackers; Anarchists and Communists and Quakers, I.
+W. Ws., and Socialists and &ldquo;Russellites.&rdquo; There were several trials going
+on all the time, and in almost every case Peter had a finger, Peter was
+called on to get this bit of evidence, or to investigate that juror, or to
+prepare some little job against a witness for the defense. Peter was
+wrapped up in the fate of each case, and each conviction was a personal
+triumph. As there was always a conviction, Peter began to swell up again
+with patriotic fervor, and the memory of Nell Doolin and Ted Crothers
+slipped far into the background. When &ldquo;Mac&rdquo; and his fellow dynamiters were
+sentenced to twenty years apiece, Peter felt that he had atoned for all
+his sins, and he ventured timidly to point out to McGivney that the cost
+of living was going up all the time, and that he had kept his promise not
+to wink at a woman for six months. McGivney said all right, they would
+raise him to thirty dollars a week.
+</p>
+<p>
+<br /><br />
+</p>
+<hr />
+<p>
+<a name="link2H_4_0070" id="link2H_4_0070"> </a>
+</p>
+<div style="height: 4em;">
+<br /><br /><br /><br />
+</div>
+<h2>
+Section 70
+</h2>
+<p>
+Of course Peter&rsquo;s statement to McGivney had not been literally true. He
+had winked at a number of women, but the trouble was none had returned his
+wink. First he had made friendly advances toward Miriam Yankovich, who was
+buxom and not bad looking; but Miriam&rsquo;s thoughts were evidently all with
+McCormick in jail; and then, after her experience with Bob Ogden, Miriam
+had to go to a hospital, and of course Peter didn&rsquo;t want to fool with an
+invalid. He made himself agreeable to others of the Red girls, and they
+seemed to like him; they treated him as a good comrade, but somehow they
+did not seem to act up to McGivney&rsquo;s theories of &ldquo;free love.&rdquo; So Peter
+made up his mind that he would find him a girl who was not a Red. It would
+give him a little relief now and then, a little fun. The Reds seldom had
+any fun&mdash;their idea of an adventure was to get off in a room by
+themselves and sing the International or the Red Flag in whispers, so the
+police couldn&rsquo;t hear them.
+</p>
+<p>
+It was Saturday afternoon, and Peter went to a clothing store kept by a
+Socialist, and bought himself a new hat and a new suit of clothes on
+credit. Then he went out on the street, and saw a neat little girl going
+into a picture-show, and followed her, and they struck up an acquaintance
+and had supper together. She was what Peter called a &ldquo;swell dresser,&rdquo; and
+it transpired that she worked in a manicure parlor. Her idea of fun
+corresponded to Peter&rsquo;s, and Peter spent all the money he had that
+Saturday evening, and made up his mind that if he could get something new
+on the Reds in the course of the week, he would strike McGivney for forty
+dollars.
+</p>
+<p>
+Next morning was Easter Sunday, and Peter met his manicurist by
+appointment, and they went for a stroll on Park Avenue, which was the
+aristocratic street of American City and the scene of the &ldquo;Easter parade.&rdquo;
+ It was war time, and many of the houses had flags out, and many of the men
+were in uniform, and all of the sermons dealt with martial themes. Christ,
+it appeared, was risen again to make the world safe for democracy, and to
+establish self-determination for all people; and Peter and Miss Frisbie
+both had on their best clothes, and watched the crowds in the &ldquo;Easter
+parade,&rdquo; and Miss Frisbie studied the costumes and make-up of the ladies,
+and picked up scraps of their conversation and whispered them to Peter,
+and made Peter feel that he was back on Mount Olympus again.
+</p>
+<p>
+They turned into one of the swell Park Avenue churches; the Church of the
+Divine Compassion it was called, and it was very &ldquo;high,&rdquo; with candles and
+incense&mdash;althogh you could hardly smell the incense on this occasion
+for the scent of the Easter lilies and the ladies. Peter and his friend
+were escorted to one of the leather covered pews, and they heard the Rev.
+de Willoughby Stotterbridge, a famous pulpit orator, deliver one of those
+patriotic sermons which were quoted in the &ldquo;Times&rdquo; almost every Monday
+morning. The Rev. de Willoughby Stotterbridge quoted some Old Testament
+text about exterminating the enemies of the Lord, and he sang the triumph
+of American arms, and the overwhelming superiority of American munitions.
+He denounced the Bolsheviks and all other traitors, and called for their
+instant suppression; he didn&rsquo;t say that he had actually been among the
+crowd which had horse-whipped the I. W. Ws. and smashed the printing
+presses and typewriters of the Socialists, but he made it unmistakably
+clear that that was what he wanted, and Peter&rsquo;s bosom swelled with happy
+pride. It was something to a man to know that he was serving his country
+and keeping the old flag waving; but it was still more to know that he was
+enlisted in the service of the Almighty, that Heaven and all its hosts
+were on his side, and that everything he had done had the sanction of the
+Almighty&rsquo;s divinely ordained minister, speaking in the Almighty&rsquo;s holy
+temple, in the midst of stained-glass windows and brightly burning candles
+and the ravishing odor of incense, and of Easter lilies and of mignonette
+and lavender in the handkerchiefs of delicately gowned and exquisite
+ladies from Mount Olympus. This, to be sure, was mixing mythologies, but
+Peter&rsquo;s education had been neglected in his youth, and Peter could not be
+blamed for taking the great ones of the earth as they were, and believing
+what they taught him.
+</p>
+<p>
+The white robed choir marched out, and the music of &ldquo;Onward Christian
+Soldiers&rdquo; faded away, and Peter and his lady went out from the Church of
+the Divine Compassion, and strolled on the avenue again, and when they had
+sufficiently filled their nostrils with the sweet odors of snobbery, they
+turned into the park, where there were places of seclusion for young
+couples interested in each other. But alas, the fates which dogged Peter
+in his love-making had prepared an especially cruel prank that morning. At
+the entrance to the park, whom should Peter meet but Comrade
+Schnitzelmann, a fat little butcher who belonged to the &ldquo;Bolshevik local&rdquo;
+ of American City. Peter tried to look the other way and hurry by, but
+Comrade Schnitzelmann would not have it so. He came rushing up with one
+pudgy hand stretched out, and a beaming smile on his rosy Teutonic
+countenance. &ldquo;Ach, Comrade Gudge!&rdquo; cried he. &ldquo;Wie geht&rsquo;s mit you dis
+morning?&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Very well, thank you,&rdquo; said Peter, coldly, and tried to hurry on.
+</p>
+<p>
+But Comrade Schnitzelmann held onto his hand. &ldquo;So! You been seeing dot
+Easter barade!&rdquo; said he. &ldquo;Vot you tink, hey? If we could get all de wage
+slaves to come und see dot barade, we make dem all Bolsheviks pretty
+quick! Hey, Comrade Gudge?&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Yes, I guess so,&rdquo; said Peter, still more coldly.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;We show dem vot de money goes for&mdash;hey, Comrade Gudge!&rdquo; And Comrade
+Schnitzelmann chuckled, and Peter said, quickly, &ldquo;Well, good-bye,&rdquo; and
+without introducing his lady-love took her by the arm and hurried away.
+</p>
+<p>
+But alas, the damage had been done! They walked for a minute or two amid
+ominous silence. Then suddenly the manicurist stood still and confronted
+Peter. &ldquo;Mr. Gudge,&rdquo; she demanded, &ldquo;what does that mean?&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+And Peter of course could not answer. He did not dare to meet her flashing
+eyes, but stood digging the toe of his shoe into the path. &ldquo;I want to know
+what it means,&rdquo; persisted the girl. &ldquo;Are you one of those Reds?&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+And what could poor Peter say? How could he explain his acquaintance with
+that Teutonic face and that Teutonic accent?
+</p>
+<p>
+The girl stamped her foot with impatient anger. &ldquo;So you&rsquo;re one of those
+Reds! You&rsquo;re one of those pro-German traitors! You&rsquo;re an imposter, a spy!&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+Peter was helpless with embarrassment and dismay. &ldquo;Miss Frisbie,&rdquo; he
+began, &ldquo;I can&rsquo;t explain&mdash;&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;<i>Why</i> can&rsquo;t you explain? Why can&rsquo;t any honest man explain?&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;But&mdash;but&mdash;I&rsquo;m not what you think&mdash;it isn&rsquo;t true! I&mdash;I&mdash;&rdquo;
+ It was on the tip of Peter&rsquo;s tongue to say, &ldquo;I&rsquo;m a patriot! I&rsquo;m a 100%
+American, protecting my country against these traitors!&rdquo; But professional
+honor sealed his tongue, and the little manicurist stamped her foot again,
+and her eyes flashed with indignation.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;You dare to seek my acquaintance! You dare to take me to church! Why&mdash;if
+there was a policeman in sight, I&rsquo;d report you, I&rsquo;d send you to jail!&rdquo; And
+actually she looked around for a policeman! But it is well known that
+there never is a policeman in sight when you look for one; so Miss Frisbie
+stamped her foot again and snorted in Peter&rsquo;s face. &ldquo;Goodbye, <i>Comrade</i>
+Gudge!&rdquo; The emphasis she put upon that word &ldquo;comrade&rdquo; would have frozen
+the fieriest Red soul; and she turned with a swish of her skirts and
+strode off, and Peter stood looking mournfully at her little French heels
+going crunch, crunch, crunch on the gravel path. When the heels were clean
+gone out of sight, Peter sought out the nearest bench and sat down and
+buried his face in his hands, a picture of woe. Was there ever in the
+world a man who had such persistent ill luck with women?
+</p>
+<p>
+<br /><br />
+</p>
+<hr />
+<p>
+<a name="link2H_4_0071" id="link2H_4_0071"> </a>
+</p>
+<div style="height: 4em;">
+<br /><br /><br /><br />
+</div>
+<h2>
+Section 71
+</h2>
+<p>
+These were days of world-agony, when people bought the newspapers several
+times every day, and when crowds gathered in front of bulletin boards,
+looking at the big maps with little flags, and speculating, were the
+Germans going to get to Paris, were they going to get to the Channel and
+put France out of the war? And then suddenly the Americans struck their
+first blow, and hurled the Germans back at Chateau-Thierry, and all
+America rose up with one shout of triumph!
+</p>
+<p>
+You would think that was a poor time for pacifist agitation; but the
+members of the Anti-conscription League had so little discretion that they
+chose this precise moment to publish a pamphlet, describing the torturing
+of conscientious objectors in military prisons and training camps! Peter
+had been active in this organization from the beginning, and he had helped
+to write into the pamphlet a certain crucial phrase which McGivney had
+suggested. So now here were the pamphlets seized by the Federal
+government, and all the members of the Anti-conscription League under
+arrest, including Sadie Todd and little Ada Ruth and Donald Gordon! Peter
+was sorry about Sadie Todd, in spite of the fact that she had called him
+names. He couldn&rsquo;t be very sorry about Ada Ruth, because she was obviously
+a fanatic, bent on getting herself into trouble. As for Donald Gordon, if
+he hadn&rsquo;t learned his lesson from that whipping, he surely had nobody to
+blame but himself.
+</p>
+<p>
+Peter was a member of this Anti-conscription League, so he pretended to be
+in hiding, and carried on a little comedy with Ada Ruth&rsquo;s cousin, an
+Englishwoman, who hid him out in her place in the country. Peter had an
+uncomfortable quarter of an hour when Donald Gordon was released on bail,
+because the Quaker boy insisted that the crucial phrase which had got them
+all into trouble had been stricken out of the manuscript before he handed
+it to Peter Gudge to take to the printer. But Peter insisted that Donald
+was mistaken, and apparently he succeeded in satisfying the others, and
+after they were all out on bail, he made bold to come out of his hiding
+place and to attend one or two protest meetings in private homes.
+</p>
+<p>
+Then began a new adventure, in some ways the most startling of all. It had
+to do with another girl, and the beginning was in the home of Ada Ruth,
+where a few of the most uncompromising of the pacifists gathered to
+discuss the question of raising money to pay for their legal defense. To
+this meeting came Miriam Yankovich, pale from an operation for cancer of
+the breast, but with a heart and mind as Red as ever. Miriam had brought
+along a friend to help her, because she wasn&rsquo;t strong enough to walk; and
+it was this friend who started Peter on his new adventure.
+</p>
+<p>
+Rosie Stern was her name, and she was a solid little Jewish working girl,
+with bold black eyes, and a mass of shining black hair, and flaming cheeks
+and a flashing smile. She was dressed as if she knew about her beauty, and
+really appreciated it; so Peter wasn&rsquo;t surprised when Miriam, introducing
+her, remarked that Rosie wasn&rsquo;t a Red and didn&rsquo;t like the Reds, but had
+just come to help her, and to see what a pacifist meeting was like.
+Perhaps Peter might help to make a Red out of her! And Peter was very glad
+indeed, for he was never more bored with the whining of pacifists than now
+when our boys were hurling the Germans back from the Marne and writing
+their names upon history&rsquo;s most imperishable pages.
+</p>
+<p>
+Rosie was something new and unforeseen, and Peter went right after her,
+and presently he realized with delight that she was interested in him.
+Peter knew, of course, that he was superior to all this crowd, but he
+wasn&rsquo;t used to having the fact recognized, and as usual when a woman
+smiled upon him, the pressure of his self-esteem rose beyond the safety
+point. Rosie was one of those people who take the world as it is and get
+some fun out of it, so while the pacifist meeting went on, Peter sat over
+in the corner and told her in whispers his funny adventures with Pericles
+Priam and in the Temple of Jimjambo. Rosie could hardly repress her
+laughter, and her black eyes flashed, and before the evening was over
+their hands had touched several times. Then Peter offered to escort her
+and Miriam, and needless to say they took Miriam home first. The tenement
+streets were deserted at this late hour, so they found a chance for swift
+embraces, and Peter went home with his feet hardly touching the ground.
+</p>
+<p>
+Rosie worked in a paper-box factory, and next evening Peter took her out
+to dinner, and their eager flirtation went on. But Rosie showed a tendency
+to retreat, and when Peter pressed her, she told him the reason. She had
+no use for Reds; she was sick of the jargon of the Reds, she would never
+love a Red. Look at Miriam Yankovich&mdash;what a wreck she had made of
+her life! She had been a handsome girl, she might have got a rich husband,
+but now she had had to be cut to pieces! And look at Sadie Todd, slaving
+herself to death, and Ada Ruth with her poems that made you tired. Rosie
+jeered at them all, and riddled them with the arrows of her wit, and of
+course Peter in his heart agreed with everything she said; yet Peter had
+to pretend to disagree, and that made Rosie cross and spoiled their fun,
+and they almost quarreled.
+</p>
+<p>
+Under these circumstances, naturally it was hard for Peter not to give
+some hint of his true feeling. After he had spent all of his money on
+Rosie and a lot of his time and hadn&rsquo;t got anywhere, he decided to make
+some concession to her&mdash;he told her he would give up trying to make a
+Red out of her. Whereupon Rosie made a face at him. &ldquo;Very kind indeed of
+you, Mr. Gudge! But how about my making a &lsquo;White&rsquo; out of you?&rdquo; And she
+went on to inform him that she wanted a fellow that could make money and
+take care of a girl. Peter answered that he was making money all right.
+Well, how was he making money, asked Rosie. Peter wouldn&rsquo;t tell, but he
+was making it, and he would prove it by taking her to the theater every
+night.
+</p>
+<p>
+So the little duel went on, evening after evening. Peter got more and more
+crazy about this black-eyed beauty, and she got more and more coquettish,
+and more and more impatient with his radical leanings. Rosie&rsquo;s father had
+brought her as a baby from Kisheneff, but she was 100% American all the
+same, so she told him; those boys in khaki who were over there walloping
+the Huns were the boys for her, and she was waiting for one of them to
+come back. What was the matter with Peter that he wasn&rsquo;t doing his part?
+Was he a draft-dodger? Rosie had never had anything to do with slackers,
+and wasn&rsquo;t keen for the company of a man who couldn&rsquo;t give an account of
+himself. Only that day she had been reading in the paper about the
+atrocities committed by the Huns. How could any man with red blood in his
+veins sympathize with these pacifists and traitors? And if Peter didn&rsquo;t
+sympathize with them, why did he travel round with them and give them his
+moral support? When Peter made a feeble effort at repeating some of the
+pacifists&rsquo; arguments, Rosie just said, &ldquo;Oh, fudge! You&rsquo;ve got too much
+sense to talk that kind of stuff to me.&rdquo; And Peter knew, of course, that
+he <i>had</i> too much sense, and it was hard to keep from letting Rosie
+see it. He had just lost one girl because of his Red entanglements. Was it
+up to him to lose another?
+</p>
+<p>
+For a couple of weeks they sparred and fought. Rosie would let Peter kiss
+her, and Peter&rsquo;s head would be quite turned with desire. He decided that
+she was the most wonderful girl he had ever known; even Nell Doolin had
+nothing on her. But then once more she would pin Peter down on this
+business of his Redness, and would spurn him, and refuse to see him any
+more. At last Peter admitted to her that he had lost his sympathy with the
+Reds, she had converted him, and he despised them. So Rosie replied that
+she was delighted; they would go at once to see Miriam Yankovich, and
+Peter would tell her, and try to convert her also. Peter was then in a bad
+dilemma; he had to insist that Rosie should keep his conversion a secret.
+But Rosie became indignant, she set her lips and declared that a
+conversion that had to be kept secret was no conversion at all, it was
+simply a low sham, and Peter Gudge was a coward, and she was sick of him!
+So poor Peter went away, heartbroken and bewildered.
+</p>
+<p>
+<br /><br />
+</p>
+<hr />
+<p>
+<a name="link2H_4_0072" id="link2H_4_0072"> </a>
+</p>
+<div style="height: 4em;">
+<br /><br /><br /><br />
+</div>
+<h2>
+Section 72
+</h2>
+<p>
+There was only one way out of this plight for Peter, and that was for him
+to tell Rosie the truth. And why should he not do it? He was wild about
+her, and he knew that she was wild about him, and only one thing&mdash;his
+great secret&mdash;stood in the way of their perfect bliss. If he told her
+that great secret, he would be a hero of heroes in her eyes; he would be
+more wonderful even than the men who were driving back the Germans from
+the Marne and writing their names upon history&rsquo;s most imperishable pages!
+So why should he not tell?
+</p>
+<p>
+He was in her room one evening, and his arms were about her, and she had
+almost but not quite yielded. &ldquo;Please, please, Peter,&rdquo; she pleaded, &ldquo;stop
+being one of those horrid Reds!&rdquo; And Peter could stand it no longer. He
+told her that he really wasn&rsquo;t a Red, but a secret agent employed by the
+very biggest business men of American City to keep track of the Reds and
+bring their activities to naught. And when he told this, Rosie stared at
+him in consternation. She refused to believe him; when he insisted, she
+laughed at him, and finally became angry. It was a silly yarn, and did he
+imagine he could string her along like that?
+</p>
+<p>
+So Peter, irritated, set out to convince her. He told her about Guffey and
+the American City Land &amp; Investment Company; he told her about
+McGivney, and how he met McGivney regularly at Room 427 of the American
+House. He told her about his thirty dollars a week, and how it was soon to
+be increased to forty, and he would spend it all on her. And perhaps she
+might pretend to be converted by him, and become a Red also, and if she
+could satisfy McGivney that she was straight, he would pay her too, and it
+would be a lot better than working ten and a half hours a day in Isaac
+&amp; Goldstein&rsquo;s paper box factory.
+</p>
+<p>
+At last Peter succeeded in convincing the girl. She was subdued and
+frightened; she hadn&rsquo;t been prepared for anything like that, she said, and
+would have to have a little time to think it over. Peter then became
+worried in turn. He hoped she wouldn&rsquo;t mind, he said, and set to work to
+explain to her how important his work was, how it had the sanction of all
+the very best people in the city&mdash;not merely the great bankers and
+business men, but mayors and public officials and newspaper editors and
+college presidents, and great Park Avenue clergymen like the Rev. de
+Willoughby Stotterbridge of the Church of the Divine Compassion. And Rosie
+said that was all right, of course, but she was a little scared and would
+have to think it over. She brought the evening to an abrupt end, and Peter
+went home much disconcerted.
+</p>
+<p>
+Perhaps an hour later there came a sharp tap on the door of his
+lodging-house room, and he went to the door, and found himself confronted
+by David Andrews, the lawyer, Donald Gordon, and John Durand, the labor
+giant, president of the Seamen&rsquo;s Union. They never even said, &ldquo;Howdy do,&rdquo;
+ but stalked into the room, and Durand shut the door behind him, and stood
+with his back to it, folded his arms and glared at Peter like the stone
+image of an Aztec chieftain. So before they said a word Peter knew what
+had happened. He knew that the jig was up for good this time; his career
+as savior of the nation was at an end. And again it was all on account of
+a woman&mdash;all because he hadn&rsquo;t taken Guffey&rsquo;s advice about winking!
+</p>
+<p>
+But all other thoughts were driven from Peter&rsquo;s mind by one emotion, which
+was terror. His teeth began giving their imitation of an angry woodchuck,
+and his knees refused to hold him; he sat down on the edge of the bed,
+staring from one to another of these three stone Aztec faces. &ldquo;Well,
+Gudge,&rdquo; said Andrews, at last, &ldquo;so you&rsquo;re the spy we&rsquo;ve been looking for
+all this time!&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+Peter remembered Nell&rsquo;s injunction, &ldquo;Stick it out, Peter! Stick it out!&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Wh-wh-what do you mean, Mr. Andrews?&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Forget it, Gudge,&rdquo; said Andrews. &ldquo;We&rsquo;ve just been talking with Rosie, and
+Rosie was our spy.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;She&rsquo;s been lying to you!&rdquo; Peter cried.
+</p>
+<p>
+But Andrews said: &ldquo;Oh rubbish! We&rsquo;re not that easy! Miriam Yankovich was
+listening behind the door, and heard your talk.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+So then Peter knew that the case was hopeless, and there was nothing left
+but to ascertain his fate. Had they come just to scold him and appeal to
+his conscience? Or did they plan to carry him away and strangle him and
+torture him to death? The latter was the terror that had been haunting
+Peter from the beginning of his career, and when gradually be made out
+that the three Aztecs did not intend violence, and that all they hoped for
+was to get him to admit how much he had told to his employers&mdash;then
+there was laughter inside Peter, and he broke down and wept tears of
+scalding shame, and said that it had all been because McCormick had told
+that cruel lie about him and little Jennie Todd. He had resisted the
+temptation for a year, but then he had been out of a job, and the Goober
+Defense Committee had refused him any work; he had actually been starving,
+and so at last he had accepted McGivney&rsquo;s offer to let him know about the
+seditious activities of the extreme Reds. But he had never reported
+anybody who hadn&rsquo;t really broken the law, and he had never told McGivney
+anything but the truth.
+</p>
+<p>
+Then Andrews proceeded to examine him. Peter denied that he had ever
+reported anything about the Goober case. He denied most strenuously that
+he had ever had anything to do with the McCormick &ldquo;frame-up.&rdquo; When they
+tried to pin him down on this case and that, he suddenly summoned his
+dignity and declared that Andrews had no right to cross-question him, he
+was a 100%, red-blooded American patriot, and had been saving his country
+and his God from German agents and Bolshevik traitors.
+</p>
+<p>
+Donald Gordon almost went wild at that. &ldquo;What you&rsquo;ve been doing was to
+slip stuff into our pamphlet about conscientious objectors, so as to get
+us all indicted!&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;That&rsquo;s a lie!&rdquo; cried Peter. &ldquo;I never done nothing of the kind!&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;You know perfectly well you rubbed out those pencil marks that I drew
+through that sentence in the pamphlet.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;I never done it!&rdquo; cried Peter, again and again.
+</p>
+<p>
+And suddenly big John Durand clenched his hands, and his face became
+terrible with his pent-up rage. &ldquo;You white-livered little sneak!&rdquo; he
+hissed. &ldquo;What we ought to do with you is to pull the lying tongue out of
+you!&rdquo; He took a step forward, as if he really meant to do it.
+</p>
+<p>
+But David Andrews interfered. He was a lawyer, and knew the difference
+between what he could do and what Guffey&rsquo;s men could do. &ldquo;No, no, John,&rdquo;
+ he said, &ldquo;nothing like that. I guess we&rsquo;ve got all we can get out of this
+fellow. We&rsquo;ll leave him to his own conscience and his Jingo God. Come on,
+Donald.&rdquo; And he took the white-faced Quaker boy with one hand, and the big
+labor giant with the other, and walked them out of the room, and Peter
+heard them tramping down the stairs of his lodging house, and he lay on
+his bed and buried his face in the pillows, and felt utterly wretched,
+because once more he had been made a fool of, and as usual it was a woman
+that had done it.
+</p>
+<p>
+<br /><br />
+</p>
+<hr />
+<p>
+<a name="link2H_4_0073" id="link2H_4_0073"> </a>
+</p>
+<div style="height: 4em;">
+<br /><br /><br /><br />
+</div>
+<h2>
+Section 73
+</h2>
+<p>
+Peter could see it all very clearly when he came to figure over the thing;
+he could see what a whooping jackass he had been. He might have known that
+it was up to him to be careful, at this time of all times, when he was
+suspected of having rubbed out Donald Gordon&rsquo;s pencil marks. They had
+picked out a girl whom Peter had never seen before, and she had come and
+posed as Miriam&rsquo;s friend, and had proceeded to take Peter by the nose and
+lead him to the edge of the precipice and shove him over. And now she
+would be laughing at him, telling all her friends about her triumph, and
+about Peter&rsquo;s thirty dollars a week that he would never see again.
+</p>
+<p>
+Peter spent a good part of the night getting up the story that he was to
+tell McGivney next morning. He wouldn&rsquo;t mention Rosie Stern, of course; he
+would say that the Reds had trailed him to Room 427, and it must be they
+had a spy in Guffey&rsquo;s office. Peter repeated this story quite solemnly,
+and again realized too late that he had made a fool of himself. It wasn&rsquo;t
+twenty-four hours before every Red in American City knew the true, inside
+history of the unveiling of Peter Gudge as a spy of the Traction Trust.
+The story occupied a couple of pages in that week&rsquo;s issue of the
+&ldquo;Clarion,&rdquo; and included Peter&rsquo;s picture, and an account of the part that
+Peter had played in various frame-ups. It was nearly all true, and the
+fact that it was guess-work on Donald Gordon&rsquo;s part did not make it any
+the better for Peter. Of course McGivney and Guffey and all his men read
+the story, and knew Peter for the whooping jackass that Peter knew
+himself.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;You go and get yourself a job with a pick and shovel,&rdquo; said McGivney, and
+Peter sorrowfully took his departure. He had only a few dollars in his
+pocket, and these did not last very long, and he had got down to his last
+nickel, and was confronting the wolf of starvation again, when McGivney
+came to his lodging house room with a new proposition. There was one job
+left, and Peter might take it if he thought he could stand the gaff.
+</p>
+<p>
+It was the job of state&rsquo;s witness. Peter had been all thru the Red
+movement, he knew all these pacifists and Socialists and Syndicalists and
+I. W. Ws. who were now in jail. In some cases the evidence of the
+government was far from satisfactory; so Peter might have his salary back
+again, if he were willing to take the witness stand and tell what he was
+told to tell, and if he could manage to sit in a courtroom without falling
+in love with some of the lady jurors, or some of the lady spies of the
+defense. These deadly shafts of sarcasm Peter did not even feel, because
+he was so frightened by the proposition which McGivney put up to him. To
+come out into the open and face the blinding glare of the Red hate! To
+place himself, the ant, between the smashing fists of the battling giants!
+</p>
+<p>
+Yes, it might seem dangerous, said McGivney, for a cowardly little whelp
+like himself; but then a good many men had had the nerve to do it, and
+none of them had died yet. McGivney himself did not pretend to care very
+much whether Peter did it or not; he put the matter up to him on Guffey&rsquo;s
+orders. The job was worth forty dollars a week, and he might take it or
+leave it.
+</p>
+<p>
+And there sat Peter, with only a nickel and a couple of pennies in his
+pocket, and the rent for his room two weeks over-due, and his landlady
+lying in wait in the hallway like an Indian with a tomahawk. Peter
+objected, what about all those bad things in his early record, Pericles
+Priam and the Temple of Jimjambo, which had ruined him as a witness in the
+Goober case. McGivney answered dryly that he couldn&rsquo;t let himself out with
+that excuse; he was invited to pose as a reformed &ldquo;wobbly,&rdquo; and the more
+crimes and rascalities he had in his record, the more convinced the jury
+would be that he had been a real &ldquo;wobbly.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+Peter asked, just when would he be expected to appear? And McGivney
+answered, the very next week. They were trying seventeen of the &ldquo;wobblies&rdquo;
+ on a conspiracy charge, and Peter would be expected to take the stand and
+tell how he had heard them advocate violence, and heard them boast of
+having set fire to barns and wheat fields, and how they had put phosphorus
+bombs into haystacks, and copper nails into fruit trees, and spikes into
+sawmill logs, and emery powder into engine bearings. Peter needn&rsquo;t worry
+about what he would have to say, McGivney would tell him everything, and
+would see him thoroughly posted, and he would find himself a hero in the
+newspapers, which would make clear that he had done everything from the
+very highest possible motives of 100% Americanism, and that no soldier in
+the war had been performing a more dangerous service.
+</p>
+<p>
+To Peter it seemed they might say that without troubling their conscience
+very much. But McGivney went on to declare that he needn&rsquo;t be afraid; it
+was no part of Guffey&rsquo;s program to give the Reds the satisfaction of
+putting his star witness out of business. Peter would be kept in a safe
+place, and would always have a body-guard. While he was in the city,
+giving his testimony, they would put him up at the Hotel de Soto.
+</p>
+<p>
+And that of course settled it. Here was poor Peter, with only a nickel and
+two coppers in his pocket, and before him stood a chariot of fire with
+magic steeds, and all he had to do was to step in, and be whirled away to
+Mount Olympus. Peter stepped in!
+</p>
+<p>
+<br /><br />
+</p>
+<hr />
+<p>
+<a name="link2H_4_0074" id="link2H_4_0074"> </a>
+</p>
+<div style="height: 4em;">
+<br /><br /><br /><br />
+</div>
+<h2>
+Section 74
+</h2>
+<p>
+McGivney took him to Guffey&rsquo;s office, and Guffey wasted no time upon
+preliminaries, but turned to his desk, and took out a long typewritten
+document, a complete account of what the prosecution meant to prove
+against the seventeen I. W. Ws. First, Peter told what he himself had seen
+and heard&mdash;not very much, but a beginning, a hook to hang his story
+upon. The I. W. W. hall was the meeting place for the casual and homeless
+labor of the country, the &ldquo;bindle-stiffs&rdquo; who took the hardest of the
+world&rsquo;s hard knocks, and sometimes returned them. There was no kind of
+injustice these fellows hadn&rsquo;t experienced, and now and then they had
+given blow for blow. Also there were loose talkers among them, who worked
+off their feelings by threats of vengeance upon their enemies. Now and
+then a real criminal came along, and now and then a paid inciter, a Peter
+Gudge or a Joe Angell. Peter told the worst that he had heard, and all he
+knew about the arrested men, and Guffey wrote it all down, and then
+proceeded to build upon it. This fellow Alf Guinness had had a row with a
+farmer in Wheatland County; there had been a barn burned nearby, and
+Guffey would furnish an automobile and a couple of detectives to travel
+with Peter, and they would visit the scene of that fire and the nearby
+village, and familiarize themselves with the locality, and Peter would
+testify how he had been with Guinness when he and a half dozen of the
+defendants had set fire to that barn.
+</p>
+<p>
+Peter hadn&rsquo;t intended anything quite so serious as that, but Guffey was so
+business-like, and took it all so much as a matter of course, that Peter
+was afraid to show the white feather. After all, this was war-time;
+hundreds of men were giving up their lives every day in the Argonne, and
+why shouldn&rsquo;t Peter take a little risk in order to put out of business his
+country&rsquo;s most dangerous enemies?
+</p>
+<p>
+So Peter and his two detectives blew themselves to a joy ride in the
+country. And then Peter was brought back and made comfortable in a room on
+the twelfth floor of the Hotel de Soto, where he diligently studied the
+typewritten documents which McGivney brought him, and thoroughly learned
+the story he was to tell. There was always one of Guffey&rsquo;s men walking up
+and down in the hallway outside with a gun on his hip, and they brought
+Peter three meals a day, not forgetting a bottle of beer and a package of
+cigarettes. Twice a day Peter read in the newspapers about the heroic
+deeds of our boys over there, and also about the latest bomb plots which
+had been discovered all over the country, and about various trials under
+the espionage act.
+</p>
+<p>
+Also, Peter had the thrill of reading about himself in a real newspaper.
+Hitherto he had been featured in labor papers, and Socialist papers like
+the &ldquo;Clarion,&rdquo; which did not count; but now the American City &ldquo;Times&rdquo; came
+out with a long story of how the district attorney&rsquo;s office had &ldquo;planted&rdquo;
+ a secret agent with the I. W. W., and how this man, whose name was Peter
+Gudge, had been working as one of them for the past two years, and was
+going to reveal the whole story of I. W. W. infamy on the witness stand.
+</p>
+<p>
+Two days before the trial Peter was escorted by McGivney and another
+detective to the district attorney&rsquo;s office, and spent the best part of
+the day in conference with Mr. Burchard and his deputy, Mr. Stannard, who
+were to try the case. McGivney had told Peter that the district attorney
+was not in the secret, he really believed that Peter&rsquo;s story was all true;
+but Peter suspected that this was camouflage, to save Mr. Burchard&rsquo;s face,
+and to protect him in case Peter ever tried to &ldquo;throw him down.&rdquo; Peter
+noticed that whenever he left any gap in his story, the district attorney
+and the deputy told him to fill it, and he managed to guess what to fill
+it with.
+</p>
+<p>
+Henry Clay Burchard came from the far South, and followed a style of
+oratory long since gone out of date. He wore his heavy black hair a little
+long, and when he mounted the platform he would pull out the tremulo stop,
+stretching out his hands and saying in tones of quivering emotion: &ldquo;The
+ladies, God bless them!&rdquo; Also he would say: &ldquo;I am a friend of the common
+man. My heart beats with sympathy for those who constitute the real
+backbone of America, the toilers of the shop and farm.&rdquo; And then all the
+banqueters of the Chamber of Commerce and the Merchants&rsquo; and
+Manufacturers&rsquo; Association would applaud, and would send their checks to
+the campaign fund of this friend of the common man. Mr. Burchard&rsquo;s deputy,
+Mr. Stannard, was a legal fox who told his chief what to do and how to do
+it; a dried-up little man who looked like a bookworm, and sat boring you
+thru with his keen eyes, watching for your weak points and preparing to
+pierce you thru with one of his legal rapiers. He would be quite friendly
+about it&mdash;he would joke with you in the noon hour, assuming that you
+would of course understand it was all in the line of business, and no harm
+meant.
+</p>
+<p>
+<br /><br />
+</p>
+<hr />
+<p>
+<a name="link2H_4_0075" id="link2H_4_0075"> </a>
+</p>
+<div style="height: 4em;">
+<br /><br /><br /><br />
+</div>
+<h2>
+Section 75
+</h2>
+<p>
+The two men heard Peter&rsquo;s story and changed it a little, and then heard
+him over again and pronounced him all right, and Peter went back to his
+hotel room and waited in trepidation for his hour in the limelight. When
+they took him to court his knees were shaking, but also he had a thrill of
+real importance, for they had provided him with a body-guard of four big
+huskies; also he saw two &ldquo;bulls&rdquo; whom he recognized in the hallway outside
+the court-room, and many others scattered thru the audience. The place was
+packed with Red sympathizers, but they had all been searched before they
+were allowed to enter, and were being watched every moment during the
+trial.
+</p>
+<p>
+When Peter stepped into the witness box he felt as Tom Duggan and Donald
+Gordon must have felt that night when the white glare from thirty or forty
+automobiles was beating upon them. Peter felt the concentrated Red hate of
+two or three hundred spectators, and now and then their pent-up fury would
+break restraint; there would be a murmur of protest, or perhaps a wave of
+sneering laughter, and the bailiff would bang on the table with his wooden
+mallet, and the judge would half rise from his seat, and declare that if
+that happened again he would order the court-room cleared.
+</p>
+<p>
+Not far in front of Peter at a long table sat the seventeen defendants,
+looking like trapped rats, and every one of their thirty-four rat eyes
+were fixed upon Peter&rsquo;s face, and never moved from it. Peter only glanced
+that way once; they bared their rats&rsquo; teeth at him, and he quickly looked
+in another direction. But there also he saw a face that brought him no
+comfort; there sat Mrs. Godd, in her immaculate white chiffons, her
+wide-open blue eyes fixed upon his face, her expression full of grief and
+reproach. &ldquo;Oh, Mr. Gudge!&rdquo; she seemed to be saying. &ldquo;How can you? Mr.
+Gudge, is this Peace. . . justice. . . Truth. . . Law?&rdquo; And Peter realized
+with a pang that he had cut himself off forever from Mount Olympus, and
+from the porch chair with the soft silken pillows! He turned away toward
+the box where sat the twelve jurymen and women. One old lady gave him a
+benevolent smile, and a young farmer gave him a sly wink, so Peter knew
+that he had friends in that quarter&mdash;and after all, they were the
+ones who really counted in this trial. Mrs. Godd was as helpless as any
+&ldquo;wobbly,&rdquo; in the presence of this august court.
+</p>
+<p>
+Peter told his story, and then came his cross-questioning, and who should
+rise and start the job but David Andrews, suave and humorous and deadly.
+Peter had always been afraid of Andrews, and now he winced. Nobody had
+told him he was to face an ordeal like this! Nobody had told him that
+Andrews would be allowed to question him about every detail of these
+crimes which he said he had witnessed, and about all the conversations
+that had taken place, and who else was present, and what else had been
+said, and how he had come to be there, and what he had done afterwards,
+and what he had had to eat for breakfast that morning. Only two things
+saved Peter, first the constant rapid-fire of objections which Stannard
+kept making, to give Peter time to think; and second, the cyclone-cellar
+which Stannard had provided for him in advance. &ldquo;You can always fail to
+remember,&rdquo; the deputy had said; &ldquo;nobody can punish you for forgetting
+something.&rdquo; So Peter would repeat the minute details of a conversation in
+which Alf Guinness had told of burning down the barn, but he didn&rsquo;t
+remember who else had heard the conversation, and he didn&rsquo;t remember what
+else had been said, nor what was the date of the conversation.
+</p>
+<p>
+Then came the blessed hour of noon, with a chance for Peter to get fixed
+up again before the court resumed at two. He was questioned again by
+Stannard, who patched up all the gaps in his testimony, and then again he
+failed to remember things, and so avoided the traps which Andrews set for
+his feet. He was told that he had &ldquo;done fine,&rdquo; and was escorted back to
+the Hotel de Soto in triumph, and there for a week he stayed while the
+defense made a feeble effort to answer his testimony. Peter read in the
+papers the long speeches in which the district attorney and the deputy
+acclaimed him as a patriot, protecting his country from its &ldquo;enemies
+within;&rdquo; also he read a brief reference to the &ldquo;tirade&rdquo; of David Andrews,
+who had called him a &ldquo;rat&rdquo; and a &ldquo;slinking Judas.&rdquo; Peter didn&rsquo;t mind that,
+of course&mdash;it was all part of the game, and the calling of names is a
+pretty sure sign of impotence.
+</p>
+<p>
+Less easy to accept placidly, however, was something which came to Peter
+that same day&mdash;a letter from Mrs. Godd! It wasn&rsquo;t written to him, but
+he saw Hammett and another of the &ldquo;bulls&rdquo; chuckling together, and he asked
+what was the joke, and they told him that Mrs. Godd had somehow found out
+about Guffey, and had written him a letter full of insults, and Guffey was
+furious. Peter asked what was in it, and they told him, and later on when
+he insisted, they brought it and showed it to him, and Peter was furious
+too. On very expensive stationery with a stately crest at the top, the
+mother of Mount Olympus had written in a large, bland, girlish hand her
+opinion of &ldquo;under cover&rdquo; men and those who hired them:
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;You sit like a big spider and weave a net to catch men and destroy them.
+You destroy alike your victims and your tools. The poor boy, Peter Gudge,
+whom you sent to my home&mdash;my heart bleeds when I think of him, and
+what you have put him up to! A wretched, feeble-minded victim of greed,
+who ought to be sent to a hospital for deformed souls, you have taken him
+and taught him a piece of villainy to recite, so that he may send a group
+of sincere idealists to prison.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+That was enough! Peter put down the letter&mdash;he would not dignify such
+stuff by reading it. He realized that he would have to put his mind on the
+problem of Mrs. Godd once more. One woman like that, in her position of
+power, was more dangerous than all the seventeen &ldquo;wobblies&rdquo; who had been
+haled before the court. Peter inquired, and learned that Guffey had
+already been to see Nelse Ackerman about it, and Mr. Ackerman had been to
+see Mr. Godd, and Mr. Godd had been to see Mrs. Godd. Also the &ldquo;Times&rdquo; had
+an editorial referring to the &ldquo;nest of Bolshevism&rdquo; upon Mount Olympus, and
+all Mrs. Godd&rsquo;s friends were staying away from her luncheon-parties&mdash;so
+she was being made to suffer for her insolence to Peter Gudge!
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;A hospital for deformed souls,&rdquo; indeed! Peter was so upset that his joy
+in life was not restored even by the news that the jury had found the
+defendants guilty on the first ballot. He told McGivney that the strain of
+this trial had been too much for his nerves, and they must take care of
+him; so an automobile was provided, and Peter was taken to a secret hiding
+place in the country to recuperate.
+</p>
+<p>
+Hammett went with him, and Hammett was a first-class gunman, and Peter
+stayed close by him; in the evening he stayed up in the second story of
+the farm-house, lest perchance one of the &ldquo;wobblies&rdquo; should take too
+literally the testimony Peter had given concerning their habit of shooting
+at their enemies out of the darkness. Peter knew how they all must hate
+him; he read in the paper how the judge summoned the guilty men before him
+and sentenced them, incidentally forcing them to listen to a scathing
+address, which was published in full in the &ldquo;Times.&rdquo; The law provided a
+penalty of from one to fourteen years, and the judge sentenced sixteen of
+them to fourteen years, and one to ten years, thus tempering justice with
+mercy.
+</p>
+<p>
+Then one day McGivney sent an automobile, and Peter was brought to
+Guffey&rsquo;s office, and a new plan was unfolded to him. They had arrested
+another bunch of &ldquo;wobblies&rdquo; in the neighboring city of Eldorado, and Peter
+was wanted there to repeat his testimony. It happened that he knew one of
+the accused men, and that would be sufficient to get his testimony in&mdash;his
+prize stuff about the burning barns and the phosphorus bombs. He would be
+taken care of just as thoroughly by the district attorney&rsquo;s office of
+Eldorado County; or better yet, Guffey would write to his friend Steve
+Ellman, who did the detective work for the Home and Fireside Association,
+the big business organization of that city.
+</p>
+<p>
+Peter hemmed and hawed. This was a pretty hard and dangerous kind of work,
+it really played the devil with a man&rsquo;s nerves, sitting up there in the
+hotel room all day, with nothing to do but smoke cigarettes and imagine
+the &ldquo;wobblies&rdquo; throwing bombs at you. Also, it wouldn&rsquo;t last very long; it
+ought to be better paid. Guffey answered that Peter needn&rsquo;t worry about
+the job&rsquo;s lasting; if he cared to give this testimony, he might have a joy
+ride from one end of the country to the other, and everywhere he would
+live on the fat of the land, and be a hero in the newspapers.
+</p>
+<p>
+But still Peter hemmed and hawed. He had learned from the American City
+&ldquo;Times&rdquo; how valuable a witness he was, and he ventured to demand his
+price, even from the terrible Guffey; he stuck it out, in spite of
+Guffey&rsquo;s frowns, and the upshot was that Guffey said, All right, if Peter
+would take the trip he might have seventy-five dollars a week and
+expenses, and Guffey would guarantee to keep him busy for not less than
+six months.
+</p>
+<p>
+<br /><br />
+</p>
+<hr />
+<p>
+<a name="link2H_4_0076" id="link2H_4_0076"> </a>
+</p>
+<div style="height: 4em;">
+<br /><br /><br /><br />
+</div>
+<h2>
+Section 76
+</h2>
+<p>
+So Peter went to Eldorado, and helped to send eleven men to the
+penitentiary for periods varying from three to fourteen years. Then he
+went to Flagland, and testified in three different trials, and added seven
+more scalps to his belt. By this time he got to realize that the worst the
+Reds could do was to make faces at him and show the teeth of trapped rats.
+He learned to take his profession more easily, and would sometimes venture
+to go out for an evening&rsquo;s pleasure without his guards. When he was hidden
+in the country he would take long walks regardless of the thousands of
+blood-thirsty Reds on his trail.
+</p>
+<p>
+It was while Peter was testifying in Flagland that a magic word was
+flashed from Europe, and the whole city went mad with joy. Everyone, from
+babies to old men, turned out on the streets and waved flags and banged
+tin cans and shouted for peace with victory. When it was learned that the
+newspapers had fooled them, they waited three days, and then turned out
+and went thru the same performance again. Peter was a bit worried at
+first, for fear the coming of peace might end his job of saving the
+country; but presently he realized that there was no need for concern, the
+smashing of the Reds was going on just the same.
+</p>
+<p>
+They had some raids on the Socialists while Peter was in Flagland, and the
+detectives told him he might come along for the fun of it. So Peter armed
+himself with a black-jack and a revolver, and helped to rush the Socialist
+headquarters. The war was over, but Peter felt just as military as if it
+were still going on; when he got the little Jewish organizer of the local
+pent up in a corner behind his desk and proceeded to crack him over the
+head, Peter understood exactly how our boys had felt in the Argonne. When
+he discovered the thrill of dancing on typewriter keys with his boots, he
+even understood how the Huns had felt.
+</p>
+<p>
+The detectives were joined by a bunch of college boys, who took to that
+kind of thing with glee. Having got their blood up, they decided they
+might as well clean out the Red movement entirely, so they rushed a place
+called the &ldquo;International Book-Shop,&rdquo; kept by a Hawaiian. The proprietor
+dodged into the kitchen of a Chinese restaurant next door, and put on an
+apron; but no one had ever seen a Chinaman with a black mustache, so they
+fell on him and broke several of the Chinaman&rsquo;s sauce-pans over his head.
+They took the contents of the &ldquo;International Book-Shop&rdquo; into the back yard
+and started a bon-fire with it, and detectives and college boys on a lark
+joined hands and danced an imitation of the Hawaiian hula-hula around the
+blaze.
+</p>
+<p>
+So Peter lived a merry life for several months. He had one or two journeys
+for nothing, because an obstinate judge refused to admit that anything
+that any I. W. W. had ever said or done anywhere within the last ten years
+was proper testimony to be introduced against a particular I. W. W. on
+trial. But most judges were willing to co-operate with the big business
+men in ridding the country of the Red menace, and Peter&rsquo;s total of scalps
+amounted to over a hundred before his time was up, and Guffey sent him his
+last cheek and turned him loose.
+</p>
+<p>
+That was in the city of Richport, and Peter having in an inside pocket
+something over a thousand dollars in savings, felt that he had earned a
+good time. He went for a stroll on the Gay White Way of the city, and in
+front of a moving picture palace a golden-haired girl smiled at him. This
+was still in the days of two and three-fourths per cent beer, and Peter
+invited her into a saloon to have a glass, and when he opened his eyes
+again it was dark, and he had a splitting headache, and he groped around
+and discovered that he was lying in a dark corner of an alleyway. Terror
+gripped his heart, and he clapped his hand to the inside pocket where his
+wallet had been, and there was nothing but horrible emptiness. So Peter
+was ruined once again, and as usual it was a woman that had done it!
+</p>
+<p>
+Peter went to the police-station, but they never found the woman, or if
+they did, they divided with her and not with Peter. He threw himself on
+the mercy of the sergeant at the desk, and succeeded in convincing the
+sergeant that he, Peter, was a part of the machinery of his country&rsquo;s
+defense, and the sergeant agreed to stand sponsor for ten words to Guffey.
+So Peter sat himself down with a pencil and paper, and figured over it,
+and managed to get it into ten words, as follows: &ldquo;Woman again broke any
+old job any pay wire fare.&rdquo; And it appeared that Guffey must have sat
+himself down with a pencil and paper and figured over it also, for the
+answer came back in ten words, as follows: &ldquo;Idiot have wired secretary
+chamber commerce will give you ticket.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+So Peter repaired forthwith to the stately offices of the Chamber of
+Commerce, and the hustling, efficient young business-man secretary sent
+his clerk to buy Peter a ticket and put him on the train. In a time of
+need like that Peter realized what it meant to have the backing of a great
+and powerful organization, with stately offices and money on hand for all
+emergencies, even when they arose by telegraph. He took a new vow of
+sobriety and decency, so that he might always have these forces of law and
+order on his side.
+</p>
+<p>
+<br /><br />
+</p>
+<hr />
+<p>
+<a name="link2H_4_0077" id="link2H_4_0077"> </a>
+</p>
+<div style="height: 4em;">
+<br /><br /><br /><br />
+</div>
+<h2>
+Section 77
+</h2>
+<p>
+Peter was duly scolded, and put to work as an &ldquo;office man&rdquo; at his old
+salary of twenty dollars a week. It was his duty to consult with Guffey&rsquo;s
+many &ldquo;operatives,&rdquo; to tell them everything he knew about this individual
+Red or that organization of Reds. He would use his inside knowledge of
+personalities and doctrines and movements to help in framing up testimony,
+and in setting traps for too ardent agitators. He could no longer pose as
+a Red himself, but sometimes there were cases where he could do detective
+work without being recognized; when, for example, there was a question of
+fixing a juror, or of investigating the members of a panel.
+</p>
+<p>
+The I. W. Ws. had been put out of business in American City, but the
+Socialists were still active, in spite of prosecutions and convictions.
+Also there was a new peril looming up; the returned soldiers were coming
+back, and a lot of them were dissatisfied, presuming to complain of their
+treatment in the army, and of the lack of good jobs at home, and even of
+the peace treaty which the President was arranging in Paris. They had
+fought to make the world safe for democracy, and here, they said, it had
+been made safe for the profiteers. This was plain Bolshevism, and in its
+most dangerous form, because these fellows had learned to use guns, and
+couldn&rsquo;t very well be expected to become pacifists right off the bat.
+</p>
+<p>
+There had been a great labor shortage during the war, and some of the more
+powerful unions had taken the general rise in prices as an excuse for
+demanding higher wages. This naturally had made the members of the Chamber
+of Commerce and the Merchants&rsquo; and Manufacturers&rsquo; Association indignant,
+and now they saw their chance to use these returned soldiers to smash
+strikes and to break the organizations of the labor men. They proceeded to
+organize the soldiers for this purpose; in American City the Chamber of
+Commerce contributed twenty-five thousand dollars to furnish the
+club-rooms for them, and when the trolley men went on strike the cars were
+run by returned soldiers in uniform.
+</p>
+<p>
+There was one veteran, a fellow by the name of Sydney, who objected to
+this program. He was publishing a paper, the &ldquo;Veteran&rsquo;s Friend,&rdquo; and began
+to use the paper to protest against his comrades acting as what he called
+&ldquo;scabs.&rdquo; The secretary of the Merchants&rsquo; and Manufacturers&rsquo; Association
+sent for him and gave him a straight talking to, but he went right ahead
+with his campaign, and so Guffey&rsquo;s office was assigned the task of
+shutting him up. Peter, while he could not take an active part in the job,
+was the one who guided it behind the scenes. They proceeded to plant spies
+in Sydney&rsquo;s office, and they had so many that it was really a joke; they
+used to laugh and say that they trod on one another&rsquo;s toes. Sydney was
+poor, and had not enough money to run his paper, so he accepted any
+volunteer labor that came along. And Guffey sent him plenty of volunteers&mdash;no
+less than seven operatives&mdash;one keeping Sydney&rsquo;s books, another
+helping with his mailing, two more helping to raise funds among the labor
+unions, others dropping in every day or two to advise him. Nevertheless
+Sydney went right ahead with his program of denouncing the Merchants&rsquo; and
+Manufacturers&rsquo; Association, and denouncing the government for its failure
+to provide farms and jobs for the veterans.
+</p>
+<p>
+One of Guffey&rsquo;s &ldquo;under cover operatives&rdquo;&mdash;that was the technical term
+for the Peter Gudges and Joe Angells&mdash;was a man by the name of Jonas.
+This Jonas called himself a &ldquo;philosophic anarchist,&rdquo; and posed as the
+reddest Red in American City; it was his habit to rise up in radical
+meetings and question the speaker, and try to tempt him to justify
+violence and insurrection and &ldquo;mass-action.&rdquo; If he repudiated these ideas,
+then Jonas would denounce him as a &ldquo;mollycoddle,&rdquo; a &ldquo;pink tea Socialist,&rdquo;
+ a &ldquo;labor faker.&rdquo; Other people in the audience would applaud, and so
+Guffey&rsquo;s men would find out who were the real Red sympathizers.
+</p>
+<p>
+Peter had long suspected Jonas, and now he was sent to meet him in Room
+427 of the American House, and together they framed up a job on Sydney.
+Jonas wrote a letter, supposed to come from a German &ldquo;comrade,&rdquo; giving the
+names of some papers in Europe to which the editor should send sample
+copies of his magazine. This letter was mailed to Sydney, and next morning
+Jonas wandered into the office, and Sydney showed him the letter, and
+Jonas told him that these were labor papers, and the editors would no
+doubt be interested to know of the feelings of American soldiers since the
+war. Sydney sat down to write a letter, and Jonas stood by his side and
+told him what to write: &ldquo;To my erstwhile enemies in arms I send fraternal
+greetings, and welcome you as brothers in the new co-operative
+commonwealth which is to be&rdquo;&mdash;and so on, the usual Internationalist
+patter, which all these agitators were spouting day and night, and which
+ran off the ends of their pens automatically. Sydney mailed these letters,
+and the sample copies of the magazine, and Guffey&rsquo;s office tipped off the
+postoffice authorities, who held up the letters. The book-keeper, one of
+Guffey&rsquo;s operatives, went to the Federal attorney and made affidavit that
+Sydney had been carrying on a conspiracy with the enemy in war-time, and a
+warrant was issued, and the offices of the magazine were raided, the
+subscription-lists confiscated, and everything in the rooms dumped out
+into the middle of the floor.
+</p>
+<p>
+So there was a little job all Peter&rsquo;s own; except that Jonas, the
+scoundrel, claimed it for his, and tried to deprive Peter of the credit!
+So Peter was glad when the Federal authorities looked the case over and
+said it was a bum job, and they wouldn&rsquo;t monkey with it. However, the
+evidence was turned over to District-attorney Burchard, who wasn&rsquo;t quite
+so fastidious, and his agents made another raid, and smashed up the office
+again, and threw the returned soldier into jail. The judge fixed the bail
+at fifteen thousand dollars, and the American City &ldquo;Times&rdquo; published the
+story with scare-headlines all the way across the front page&mdash;how the
+editor of the &ldquo;Veteran&rsquo;s Friend&rdquo; had been caught conspiring with the
+enemy, and here was a photographic copy of his treasonable letter, and a
+copy of the letter of the mysterious German conspirator with whom he had
+been in relations! They spent more than a year trying that editor, and
+although he was out on bail, Guffey saw to it that he could not get a job
+anywhere in American City; his paper was smashed and his family near to
+starvation.
+</p>
+<p>
+<br /><br />
+</p>
+<hr />
+<p>
+<a name="link2H_4_0078" id="link2H_4_0078"> </a>
+</p>
+<div style="height: 4em;">
+<br /><br /><br /><br />
+</div>
+<h2>
+Section 78
+</h2>
+<p>
+Peter had now been working faithfully for six or eight months, and all
+that time he religiously carried out his promise to Guffey and did not
+wink at a woman. But that is an unnatural life for a man, and Peter was
+lonely, his dreams were haunted by the faces of Nell Doolin and Rosie
+Stern, and even of little Jennie Todd. One day another face came back to
+him, the face of Miss Frisbie, the little manicurist who had spurned him
+because he was a Red. Now suddenly Peter realized that he was no longer a
+Red! On the contrary, he was a hero, his picture had been published in the
+American City &ldquo;Times,&rdquo; and no doubt Miss Frisbie had seen it. Miss Frisbie
+was a good girl, a straight girl, and surely all right for him to know!
+</p>
+<p>
+So Peter went to the manicure parlor, and sure enough, there was the
+little golden-haired lady; and sure enough, she had read all about him,
+she had been dreaming that some day she might meet him again&mdash;and so
+Peter invited her to go to a picture show. On the way home they became
+very chummy, and before a week went by it was as if they had been friends
+for life. When Peter asked Miss Frisbie if he might kiss her, she answered
+coyly that he might, but after he had kissed her a few times she explained
+to him that she was a self-supporting woman, alone and defenseless in the
+world, and she had nobody to speak for her but herself; she must tell him
+that she had always been a respectable woman, and that she wanted him to
+know that before he kissed her any more. And Peter thought it over and
+decided that he had sowed his full share of wild oats in this life; he was
+ready to settle down, and the next time he saw Miss Frisbie he told her
+so, and before the evening was by they were engaged.
+</p>
+<p>
+Then Peter went to see Guffey, and seated himself on the edge of the chair
+alongside Guffey&rsquo;s desk, and twisted his hat in his hands, and flushed
+very red, and began to stammer out his confession. He expected to be
+received with a gale of ridicule; he was immensely relieved when Guffey
+said that if Peter had really found a good girl and wanted to marry her,
+he, Guffey, was for it. There was nothing like the influence of a good
+woman, and Guffey much preferred his operatives should be married men,
+living a settled and respectable life. They could be trusted then, and
+sometimes when a woman operative was needed, they had a partner ready to
+hand. If Peter had got married long ago, he might have had a good sum of
+money in the bank by now.
+</p>
+<p>
+Peter ventured to point out that twenty dollars a week was not exactly a
+marrying salary, in the face of the present high cost of living. Guffey
+answered that that was true, and he would raise Peter to thirty dollars
+right away&mdash;only first he demanded the right to talk to Peter&rsquo;s
+fiancee, and judge for himself whether she was worthy. Peter was
+delighted, and Miss Frisbie had a private and confidential interview with
+Peter&rsquo;s boss. But afterwards Peter wasn&rsquo;t quite so delighted, for he
+realized what Guffey had done. Peter&rsquo;s future wife had been told all about
+Peter&rsquo;s weakness, and how Peter&rsquo;s boss looked to her to take care of her
+husband and make him walk the chalkline. So a week after Peter had entered
+the holy bonds of matrimony, when he and Mrs. Gudge had their first little
+family tiff, Peter suddenly discovered who was going to be top dog in that
+family. He was shown his place once for all, and he took it,&mdash;alongside
+that husband who described his domestic arrangements by saying that he and
+his wife got along beautifully together, they had come to an arrangement
+by which he was to have his way on all major issues, and she was to have
+her way on all minor issues, and so far no major issues had arisen.
+</p>
+<p>
+But really it was a very good thing; for Gladys Frisbie Gudge was an
+excellent manager, and set to work making herself a nest as busily as any
+female beaver. She still hung on to her manicurist job, for she had
+figured it out that the Red movement must be just about destroyed by now,
+and pretty soon Peter might find himself without work. In the evenings she
+took to house-hunting, and during her noon hour, without consulting Peter
+she selected the furniture and the wall-paper, and pretty nearly bought
+out the stock of a five-and-ten-cent store to equip the beaver&rsquo;s nest.
+</p>
+<p>
+Gladys Frisbie Gudge was a diligent reader of the fashion magazines, and
+kept herself right up to the minute with the styles; also she had got
+herself a book on etiquette, and learned it by heart from cover to cover,
+and now she took Peter in hand and taught it to him. Why must he always be
+a &ldquo;Jimmie Higgins&rdquo; of the &ldquo;Whites?&rdquo; Why should he not acquire the
+vocabulary of an educated man, the arts and graces of the well-to-do?
+Gladys knew that it is these subtleties which determine your salary in the
+long run; so every Sunday morning she would dress him up with a new brown
+derby and a new pair of brown kid gloves, and take him to the Church of
+the Divine Compassion, and they would listen to the patriotic sermon of
+the Rev. de Willoughby Stotterbridge, and Gladys would bow her head in
+prayer, and out of the corner of her eye would get points on costumes from
+the lady in the next pew. And afterwards they would join the Sunday
+parade, and Gladys would point out to Peter the marks of what she called
+&ldquo;gentility.&rdquo; In the evenings they would go walking, and she would stop in
+front of the big shop-windows, or take him into the hotel lobbies where
+the rich could be seen free of charge. Peter would be hungry, and would
+want to go to a cheap restaurant and fill himself up with honest grub; but
+Gladys, who had the appetite of a bird, would insist on marching him into
+the dining-room of the Hotel de Soto and making a meal upon a cup of broth
+and some bread and butter&mdash;just in order that they might gaze upon a
+scene of elegance and see bow &ldquo;genteel&rdquo; people ate their food.
+</p>
+<p>
+<br /><br />
+</p>
+<hr />
+<p>
+<a name="link2H_4_0079" id="link2H_4_0079"> </a>
+</p>
+<div style="height: 4em;">
+<br /><br /><br /><br />
+</div>
+<h2>
+Section 79
+</h2>
+<p>
+And just as ardently as Gladys Frisbie Gudge adored the rich, so ardently
+did she object to the poor. If you pinned her down to it, she would admit
+that there had to be poor; there could not be gentility, except on the
+basis of a large class of ungentility. The poor were all right in their
+place; what Gladys objected to was their presuming to try to get out of
+their place, or to criticise their betters. She had a word by which she
+summed up everything that she despised in the world, and that word was
+&ldquo;common;&rdquo; she used it to describe the sort of people she declined to meet,
+and she used it in correcting Peter&rsquo;s manners and his taste in hats. To be
+&ldquo;common&rdquo; was to be damned; and when Gladys saw people who were indubitably
+and inescapably &ldquo;common,&rdquo; presuming to set themselves up and form
+standards of their own, she took it as a personal affront, she became
+vindictive and implacable towards them. Each and every one of them became
+to her a personal enemy, an enemy to something far more precious than her
+person, an enemy to the thing she aspired to become, to her ideal.
+</p>
+<p>
+Peter had once been like that himself, but now he was so comfortable, he
+had a tendency to become lazy and easy-going. It was well, therefore, that
+he had Gladys to jack him up, and keep him on his job. Gladys at first did
+not meet any Reds face to face, she knew them only by the stories that
+Peter brought home to her when his day&rsquo;s work was done. But each new group
+that he was hounding became to Gladys an assemblage of incarnate fiends,
+and while she sat polishing the finger-nails of stout society ladies who
+were too sleepy to talk, Gladys&rsquo; busy mind would be working over schemes
+to foil these fiends.
+</p>
+<p>
+Sometimes her ideas were quite wonderful. She had a woman&rsquo;s intuition, the
+knowledge of human foibles, all the intricate subtleties of the emotional
+life; she would bring to Peter a program for the undoing of some young
+radical, as complete as if she had known the man or woman all her life.
+Peter took her ideas to McGivney, and then to Guffey, and the result was
+that her talents were recognized, and by the lever of a generous salary
+she was pried loose from the manicure parlor. Guffey sent her to make the
+acquaintance of the servants in the household of a certain rich man who
+was continually making contributions to the Direct Primary Association and
+other semi-Red organizations, and who was believed to have a scandal in
+his private life. So successful was Gladys at this job that presently
+Guffey set her at the still more delicate task of visiting rich ladies,
+and impressing upon them the seriousness of the Red peril, and persuading
+them to meet the continually increasing expenses of Guffey&rsquo;s office.
+</p>
+<p>
+Just now was a busy time in the anti-Red campaign. For nearly two years,
+ever since the Bolshevik revolution in Russia, there had been gradually
+developing a split in the Socialist movement, and the &ldquo;under-cover&rdquo;
+ operatives of the Traction Trust, as well as those of the district
+attorney&rsquo;s office and of the Federal government, had been working
+diligently to widen this split and develop dissensions in the
+organization. There were some Socialists who believed in politics, and
+were prepared to devote their lives to the slow and tedious job of
+building up a party. There were others who were impatient, looking for a
+short cut, a general strike or a mass insurrection of the workers which
+would put an end to the slavery of capitalism. The whole game of politics
+was rotten, these would argue; a politician could find more ways to fool
+the workers in a minute than the workers could thwart in a year. They
+pointed to the German Socialists, those betrayers of internationalism.
+There were people who called themselves Socialists right here in American
+City who wanted to draw the movement into the same kind of trap!
+</p>
+<p>
+This debate was not conducted in the realm of abstractions; the two wings
+of the movement would attack one another with bitterness. The
+&ldquo;politicians&rdquo; would denounce the &ldquo;impossibilists,&rdquo; calling them
+&ldquo;anarchists;&rdquo; and the other side, thus goaded, would accuse their enemies
+of being in the hire of the government. Peter would supply McGivney with
+bits of scandal which the &ldquo;under cover&rdquo; men would start going among the
+&ldquo;left-wingers;&rdquo; and in the course of the long wrangles in the local these
+accusations would come out. Herbert Ashton would mention them with his
+biting sarcasm, or &ldquo;Shorty&rdquo; Gunton would shout them in one of his tirades&mdash;&ldquo;hurling
+them into his opponents teeth,&rdquo; as he phrased it.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Shorty&rdquo; Gunton was a tramp printer, a wandering agitator who was all for
+direct action, and didn&rsquo;t care a hang who knew it. &ldquo;Violence?&rdquo; he would
+say. &ldquo;How many thousand years shall we submit to the violence of
+capitalist governments, and never have the right to reply?&rdquo; And then again
+he would say, &ldquo;Violence? Yes, of course we must repudiate violence&mdash;until
+we get enough of it!&rdquo; Peter had listened to &ldquo;Shorty&rsquo;s&rdquo; railings at the
+&ldquo;compromisers&rdquo; and the &ldquo;political traders,&rdquo; and had thought him one of the
+most dangerous men in American City. But later on, after the episode of
+Joe Angell had opened Peter&rsquo;s eyes, he decided that &ldquo;Shorty&rdquo; must also be
+a secret agent like himself.
+</p>
+<p>
+Peter was never told definitely, but he picked up a fact here and there,
+and fitted them together, and before long his suspicion had become
+certainty. The &ldquo;left wing&rdquo; Socialists split off from the party, and called
+a convention of their own, and this convention in turn split up, one part
+forming the Communist Party, and another part forming the Communist Labor
+Party. While these two conventions were in session, McGivney came to
+Peter, and said that the Federal government had a man on the platform
+committee of the Communist Party, and they wanted to write in some phrases
+that would make membership in that party in itself a crime, so that
+everybody who held a membership card could be sent to prison without
+further evidence. These phrases must be in the orthodox Communist lingo,
+and this was where Peter&rsquo;s specialized knowledge was needed.
+</p>
+<p>
+So Peter wrote the phrases, and a couple of days later he read in the
+newspapers an account of the convention proceedings. The platform
+committee had reported, and &ldquo;Shorty&rdquo; Gunton had submitted a minority
+report, and had made a fiery speech in the convention, with the result
+that his minority report was carried by a narrow margin. This minority
+report contained all the phrases that Peter had written. A couple of
+months later, when the government had its case ready, and the wholesale
+raids upon the Communists took place, &ldquo;Shorty&rdquo; Gunton was arrested, but a
+few days later he made a dramatic escape by sawing his way thru the roof
+of the jail!
+</p>
+<p>
+<br /><br />
+</p>
+<hr />
+<p>
+<a name="link2H_4_0080" id="link2H_4_0080"> </a>
+</p>
+<div style="height: 4em;">
+<br /><br /><br /><br />
+</div>
+<h2>
+Section 80
+</h2>
+<p>
+The I. W. W. had bobbed up again in American City, and had ventured to
+open another headquarters. Peter did not dare go to the place himself, but
+he coached a couple of young fellows whom McGivney brought to him,
+teaching them the Red lingo, and how to worm their way into the movement.
+Before long one of them was secretary of the local; and Peter, directing
+their activities, received reports twice a week of everything the
+&ldquo;wobblies&rdquo; were planning and doing. Peter and Gladys were figuring out
+another bomb conspiracy to direct attention to these dangerous men, when
+one day Peter picked up the morning paper and discovered that a kind
+Providence had delivered the enemy into his hands.
+</p>
+<p>
+Up in the lumber country of the far Northwest, in a little town called
+Centralia, the &ldquo;wobblies&rdquo; had had their headquarters raided and smashed,
+just as in American City. They had got themselves another meeting-place,
+and again the members of the Chamber of Commerce and the Merchants&rsquo; and
+Manufacturers&rsquo; Association had held a secret meeting and resolved to wipe
+them out. The &ldquo;wobblies&rdquo; had appealed to the authorities for protection,
+and when protection was refused, they had printed a leaflet appealing to
+the public. But the business men went ahead with their plans. They
+arranged for a parade of returned soldiers on the anniversary of Armistice
+Day, and they diverted this parade out of its path so that it would pass
+in front of the I. W. W. headquarters. Some of the more ardent members
+carried ropes, symbolic of what they meant to do; and they brought the
+parade to a halt in front of the headquarters, and set up a yell and
+started to rush the hall. They battered in the door, and had pushed their
+way half thru it when the &ldquo;wobblies&rdquo; opened fire from inside, killing
+several of the paraders.
+</p>
+<p>
+Then, of course, the mob flew into a frenzy of fury. They beat the men in
+the hall, some of them into insensibility; they flung them into jail, and
+battered and tortured them, and took one of them out of jail and carried
+him away in an automobile, and after they had mutilated him as Shawn Grady
+had been mutilated, they hanged him from a bridge. Of course they saw to
+it that the newspaper stories which went out from Centralia that night
+were the right kind of stories; and next morning all America read how a
+group of &ldquo;wobblies&rdquo; had armed themselves with rifles, and concealed
+themselves on the roof of the I. W. W. headquarters, and deliberately and
+in cold blood had opened fire upon a peaceful parade of unarmed war
+veterans.
+</p>
+<p>
+Of course the country went wild, and the Guffeys and McGivneys and Gudges
+all over the United States realized that their chance had come. Peter
+instructed the secretary of the I. W. W. local of American City to call a
+meeting for that evening, to adopt a resolution declaring the press
+stories from Centralia to be lies. At the same time another of Guffey&rsquo;s
+men, an ex-army officer still wearing his, uniform, caused a meeting of
+the American Legion to be summoned; he made a furious address to the boys,
+and at nine o&rsquo;clock that night some two-score of them set out, armed with
+big monkey-wrenches from their automobiles, and raided the I. W. W.
+headquarters, and battered the members over the head with the
+monkey-wrenches, causing several to leap from the window and break their
+legs. Next morning the incident was reported in the American City &ldquo;Times&rdquo;
+ with shouts of glee, and District-attorney Burchard issued a public
+statement to the effect that no effort would be made to punish the soldier
+boys; the &ldquo;wobblies&rdquo; had wanted &ldquo;direct action,&rdquo; and they had got it, and
+it would be assumed that they were satisfied.
+</p>
+<p>
+Then the members of the American Legion, encouraged by this applause, and
+instigated by Guffey&rsquo;s ex-army officer, proceeded to invade and wreck
+every radical meeting-place in the city. They smashed the &ldquo;Clarion&rdquo; office
+and the Socialist Party headquarters again, and confiscated more tons of
+literature. They wrecked a couple of book-stores, and then, breaking up
+into small groups, they inspected all the news-stands in the city, and
+wherever they found Red magazines like the Nation or the New Republic,
+they tore up the copies and threatened the agents with arrest. They
+invaded the rooms of a literary society called the Ruskin Club, frequented
+mostly by amiable old ladies, and sent some of these elderly dames into
+hysterics. They discovered the &ldquo;Russian Peoples&rsquo; Club,&rdquo; which had hitherto
+been overlooked because it was an educational organization. But of course
+no Russian could be trusted these days&mdash;all of them were Bolsheviks,
+or on the way to becoming Bolsheviks, which was the same thing; so Guffey
+organized a raid on this building, and some two hundred Russians were
+clubbed and thrown downstairs or out of windows, and an elderly teacher of
+mathematics had his skull cracked, and a teacher of music had some teeth
+knocked out.
+</p>
+<p>
+There were several million young Americans who had been put into military
+uniform, and had guns put into their hands, and been put thru target
+practice and bayonet drill, and then had not seen any fighting. These
+fellows were, as the phrase has it, &ldquo;spoiling for a fight;&rdquo; and here was
+their chance. It was just as much fun as trench warfare, and had the
+advantage of not being dangerous. When the raiding parties came back,
+there were no missing members, and no casualties to be telegraphed to
+heartbroken parents. Some fool women got together and tried to organize a
+procession to protest against the blockade of Russia; the raiders fell
+upon these women, and wrecked their banners, and tore their clothing to
+bits, and the police hustled what was left of them off to jail. It
+happened that a well-known &ldquo;sporting man,&rdquo; that is to say a race-track
+frequenter, came along wearing a red necktie, and the raiders, taking him
+for a Bolshevik, fell upon him and pretty nearly mauled the life out of
+him. After that there was protest from people who thought it unwise to
+break too many laws while defending law and order, so the district
+attorney&rsquo;s office arranged to take on the young soldier boys as deputy
+sheriffs, and give them all badges, legal and proper.
+</p>
+<p>
+<br /><br />
+</p>
+<hr />
+<p>
+<a name="link2H_4_0081" id="link2H_4_0081"> </a>
+</p>
+<div style="height: 4em;">
+<br /><br /><br /><br />
+</div>
+<h2>
+Section 81
+</h2>
+<p>
+Peter Gudge often went along on these hunting parties. Peter, curiously
+enough, discovered in himself the same &ldquo;complex&rdquo; as the balked soldier
+boys. Peter had been reading war news for five years, but had missed the
+fighting; and now he discovered that he liked to fight. What had kept him
+from liking to fight in the past was the danger of getting hurt; but now
+that there was no such danger, he could enjoy it. In past times people had
+called him a coward, and he had heard it so often that he had come to
+believe it; but now he realized that it was not true, he was just as brave
+as anybody else in the crowd.
+</p>
+<p>
+The truth was that Peter had not had a happy time in his youth, he had
+never learned, like the younger members of the Chamber of Commerce and the
+Merchants&rsquo; and Manufacturers&rsquo; Association, to knock a little white ball
+about a field with various shapes and sizes of clubs. Peter was like a
+business man who has missed his boyhood, and then in later years finds the
+need of recreation, and takes up some form of sport by the orders of his
+physician. It became Peter&rsquo;s, form of sport to stick an automatic revolver
+in his hip-pocket, and take a blackjack in his hand, and rush into a room
+where thirty or forty Russians or &ldquo;Sheenies&rdquo; of all ages and lengths of
+beard were struggling to learn the intricacies of English spelling. Peter
+would give a yell, and see this crowd leap and scurry hither and thither,
+and chase them about and take a whack at a head wherever he saw one, and
+jump into a crowd who were bunched together like sheep, trying to hide
+their heads, and pound them over the exposed parts of their anatomy until
+they scattered into the open again. He liked to get a lot of them started
+downstairs and send them tumbling heels over head; or if he could get them
+going out a window, that was more exhilarating yet, and he would yell and
+whoop at them. He learned some of their cries&mdash;outlandish gibberish
+it was&mdash;and he would curse them in their own language. He had a
+streak of the monkey in him, and as he got to know these people better he
+would imitate their antics and their gestures of horror, and set a whole
+room full of the &ldquo;bulls&rdquo; laughing to split their sides. There was a famous
+&ldquo;movie&rdquo; comedian with big feet, and Peter would imitate this man, and
+waddle up to some wretched sweat-shop worker and boot him in the trousers&rsquo; 
+seat, or step on his toes, or maybe spit in his eye. So he became
+extremely popular among the &ldquo;bulls,&rdquo; and they would insist on his going
+everywhere with them.
+</p>
+<p>
+Later on, when the government set to work to break up the Communist Party
+and the Communist Labor Party, Peter&rsquo;s popularity and prestige increased
+still more. For now, instead of just raiding and smashing, the police and
+detectives would round up the prisoners and arrest them by hundreds, and
+carry them off and put them thru &ldquo;examinations.&rdquo; And Peter was always
+needed for this; his special knowledge made him indispensable, and he
+became practically the boss of the proceedings. It had been arranged thru
+&ldquo;Shorty&rdquo; Gunton and the other &ldquo;under cover&rdquo; men that the meetings of the
+Communist and Communist Labor parties should be held on the same night;
+and all over the country this same thing was done, and next morning the
+world was electrified by the news that all these meetings had been raided
+at the same hour, and thousands of Reds placed under arrest. In American
+City the Federal government had hired a suite of about a dozen rooms
+adjoining the offices of Guffey, and all night and next morning batches of
+prisoners were brought in, until there were about four hundred in all.
+They were crowded into these rooms with barely space to sit down; of
+course there was an awful uproar, moaning and screaming of people who had
+been battered, and a smell that beat the monkey cage at the zoological
+gardens.
+</p>
+<p>
+The prisoners were kept penned up in this place for several weeks, and all
+the time more were being brought in; there were so many that the women had
+to be stored in the toilets. Many of the prisoners fell ill, or pretended
+to fall ill, and several of them went insane, or pretended to go insane,
+and several of them died, or pretended to die. And of course the parlor
+Reds and sympathizers were busy outside making a terrible fuss about it.
+They had no more papers, and could not hold any more meetings, and when
+they tried to circulate literature the post-office authorities tied them
+up; but still somehow they managed to get publicity, and Peter&rsquo;s &ldquo;under
+cover&rdquo; men would report to him who was doing this work, and Peter would
+arrange to have more raids and more batches of prisoners brought in. In
+one of the &ldquo;bomb-plots&rdquo; which had been unveiled in the East they had
+discovered some pink paper, used either for printing leaflets, or for
+wrapping explosives, one could not be sure. Anyhow, the secret agencies
+with which Guffey was connected had distributed samples of this paper over
+the country, and any time the police wanted to finish some poor devil,
+they would find this deadly &ldquo;pink paper&rdquo; in his possession, and the
+newspapers would brand him as one of the group of conspirators who were
+sending infernal machines thru the mails.
+</p>
+<p>
+<br /><br />
+</p>
+<hr />
+<p>
+<a name="link2H_4_0082" id="link2H_4_0082"> </a>
+</p>
+<div style="height: 4em;">
+<br /><br /><br /><br />
+</div>
+<h2>
+Section 82
+</h2>
+<p>
+Peter was so busy these days that he missed several nights&rsquo; sleep, and
+hardly even stopped to eat. He had his own private room, where the
+prisoners were brought for examination, and he had half a dozen men under
+his orders to do the &ldquo;strong arm&rdquo; work. It was his task to extract from
+these prisoners admissions which would justify their being sent to prison
+if they were citizens, or being deported if they were aliens. There was of
+course seldom any way to distinguish between citizens and aliens; you just
+had to take a chance on it, proceeding on the certainty that all were
+dangerous. Many years ago, when Peter had been working for Pericles Priam,
+they had spent several months in a boarding house, and you could tell when
+there was going to be beef-steak for dinner, because you heard the cook
+pounding it with the potato-masher to &ldquo;tender it up;&rdquo; and Peter learned
+this phrase, and now used the process upon his alien Reds. When they came
+into the room, Peter&rsquo;s men would fall upon them and beat them and cuff
+them, knocking them about from one fist to another. If they were stubborn
+and would not &ldquo;come across,&rdquo; Peter would take them in hand himself,
+remembering how successful Guffey had been in getting things out of him by
+the twisting of wrists and the bending back of fingers.
+</p>
+<p>
+It was amazing how clever and subtle some of these fellows were. They were
+just lousy foreign laborers, but they spent all their spare time reading;
+you would find large collections of books in their rooms when you made
+your raids, and they knew exactly what you wanted, and would parry your
+questions. Peter would say: &ldquo;You&rsquo;re an Anarchist, aren&rsquo;t you?&rdquo; And the
+answer would be: &ldquo;I&rsquo;m not an Anarchist in the sense of the word you mean&rdquo;&mdash;as
+if there could be two meanings of the word &ldquo;Anarchist!&rdquo; Peter would say,
+&ldquo;You believe in violence, do you not?&rdquo; And then the fellow would become
+impertinent: &ldquo;It is you who believe in violence, look at my face that you
+have smashed.&rdquo; Or Peter would say, &ldquo;You don&rsquo;t like this government, do
+you?&rdquo; And the answer would be, &ldquo;I always liked it until it treated me so
+badly&rdquo;&mdash;all kinds of evasions like that, and there would be a
+stenographer taking it down, and unless Peter could get something into the
+record that was a confession, it would not be possible to deport that Red.
+So Peter would fall upon him and &ldquo;tender him up&rdquo; until he would answer
+what he was told to answer; or maybe Peter would prepare an interview as
+he wanted it to be, and the detectives would grab the man&rsquo;s hand and make
+him sign it; or maybe Peter would just sign it himself.
+</p>
+<p>
+These were harsh methods, but there was no way to help it, the Reds were
+so cunning. They were secretly undermining the government, and was the
+government to lie down and admit its helplessness? The answer of 100%
+Americanism was thundered from every wood and templed hill in the country;
+also from every newspaper office. The answer was &ldquo;No!&rdquo; 100% Americanism
+would find a way to preserve itself from the sophistries of European
+Bolshevism; 100% Americanism had worked out its formula: &ldquo;If they don&rsquo;t
+like this country, let them go back where they come from.&rdquo; But of course,
+knowing in their hearts that America was the best country in the world,
+they didn&rsquo;t want to go back, and it was necessary to make them go.
+</p>
+<p>
+Peter was there for that purpose, and his devoted wife was by his side,
+egging him on with her feminine implacability. Gladys had always been
+accustomed to refer to these people as &ldquo;cattle,&rdquo; and now, when she smelled
+them herded together in these office rooms for several weeks, she knew
+that she was right, and that no fate could be too stern for them.
+Presently with Peter&rsquo;s help she discovered another bomb-plot, this time
+against the Attorney-General of the country, who was directing these
+wholesale raids. They grabbed four Italian Anarchists in American City,
+and kept them apart in special rooms, and for a couple of months Peter
+labored with them to get what he wanted out of them. Just as Peter thought
+he had succeeded, his efforts were balked by one of them jumping out of
+the window. The room being on the fourteenth story, this Italian Anarchist
+was no longer available as a witness against himself. The incident set the
+parlor Bolsheviks all over the country to raging, and caused David Andrews
+to get some kind of court injunction, and make a lot of inconvenience to
+Guffey&rsquo;s office.
+</p>
+<p>
+However, the work went on; the Reds were gradually sorted out, and some
+who proved not to be Reds were let go again, and others were loaded onto
+special Red trains and taken to the nearest ports. Some of them went in
+grim silence, others went with furious cursings, and yet others with
+wailings and shriekings; for many of them had families, and they had the
+nerve to demand that the government should undertake to ship their
+families also, or else to take care of their families for them! The
+government, naturally, admitted no such responsibility. The Reds had no
+end of money for printing seditious literature, so let them use it to take
+care of their own!
+</p>
+<p>
+In these various raids and examinations Peter of course met a great many
+of the Reds whom he had once known as friends and intimates. Peter had
+been wont to imagine himself meeting them, and to tremble at the bare
+idea; but now he found that he rather enjoyed it. He was entirely
+delivered from that fear of them, which had formerly spoiled his appetite
+and disturbed his sleep. He had learned that the Reds were poor creatures
+who did not fight back; they had no weapons, and many of them did not even
+have muscles; there was really nothing to them but talk. And Peter knew
+that he had the power of organized society behind him, the police and the
+courts and the jails, if necessary the army with its machine guns and
+airplanes and poison gas. Not merely was it safe to pound these people, to
+tread on their toes and spit in their eyes; it was safe also to frame up
+anything on them, because the newspapers would always back you up, and the
+public would of course believe whatever it read in its newspapers.
+</p>
+<p>
+No, Peter was no longer afraid of the Reds! He made up his mind that he
+was not even afraid of Mac, the most dangerous Red of them all. Mac was
+safely put away in jail for twenty years, and although his case had been
+appealed, the court had refused to grant a stay of sentence or to let him
+out on bail. As it happened, Peter got a glimpse into Mac&rsquo;s soul in jail,
+and knew that even that proud, grim spirit was breaking. Mac in jail had
+written a letter to one of his fellow-Reds in American City, and the
+post-office authorities had intercepted the letter, and Guffey had shown
+it to Peter. &ldquo;Write to us!&rdquo; Mac had pleaded. &ldquo;For God&rsquo;s sake, write to us!
+The worst horror of being in jail is that you are forgotten. Do at least
+let us know that somebody is thinking about us!&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+So Peter knew that he was the victor, he was &ldquo;top dog.&rdquo; And when he met
+these Reds whom he had been so afraid of, he took pleasure in letting them
+feel the weight of his authority, and sometimes of his fist. It was
+amusing to see the various ways in which they behaved toward him. Some
+would try to plead with him, for the sake of old times; some would cringe
+and whine to him; some would try to reason with him, to touch his
+conscience. But mostly they would be haughty, they would glare at him with
+hate, or put a sneer of contempt on their faces. So Peter would set his
+&ldquo;bulls&rdquo; to work to improve their manners, and a little thumb-bending and
+wrist-twisting would soon do the work.
+</p>
+<p>
+<br /><br />
+</p>
+<hr />
+<p>
+<a name="link2H_4_0083" id="link2H_4_0083"> </a>
+</p>
+<div style="height: 4em;">
+<br /><br /><br /><br />
+</div>
+<h2>
+Section 83
+</h2>
+<p>
+Among the first load to be brought in was Miriam Yankovich. Miriam had
+joined the Communist Party, and she had been born in Russia, so that was
+all there was to her case. Peter, knew, of course that it was Miriam who
+had set Rosie Stern after him and brought about his downfall. Still, he
+could not help but be moved by her appearance. She looked haggard and old,
+and she had a cough, and her eyes were wild and crazy. Peter remembered
+her as proud and hot-tempered, but now her pride was all gone&mdash;she
+flung herself on her knees before him, and caught hold of his coat,
+sobbing hysterically. It appeared that she had a mother and five young
+brothers and sisters who were dependent upon her earnings; all her money
+had been consumed by hospital expenses, and now she was to be deported to
+Russia, and what would become of her loved ones?
+</p>
+<p>
+Peter answered, what could he do? She had violated the law, they had her
+membership card in the Communist Party, and she had admitted that she was
+alien born. He tried to draw away, but she clung to him, and went on
+sobbing and pleading. At least she ought to have a chance to talk with her
+old mother, to tell her what to do, where to go for help, how to
+communicate with Miriam in future. They were sending her away without
+allowing her to have a word with her loved ones, without even a chance to
+get her clothing!
+</p>
+<p>
+Peter, as we know, had always been soft-hearted towards women, so now he
+was embarrassed. In the handling of these cattle he was carrying out the
+orders of his superiors; he had no power to grant favors to any one, and
+he told Miriam this again and again. But she would not listen to him.
+&ldquo;Please, Peter, please! For God&rsquo;s sake, Peter! You know you were once a
+little in love with me, Peter&mdash;you told me so&mdash;&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+Yes, that was true, but it hadn&rsquo;t done Peter much good. Miriam had been
+interested in Mac&mdash;in Mac, that most dangerous devil, who had given
+Peter so many anxious hours! She had brushed Peter to one side, she had
+hardly been willing to listen to what he said; and now she was trying to
+use that love she had spurned!
+</p>
+<p>
+She had got hold of his hand, and he could not get it away from her
+without violence. &ldquo;If you ever felt a spark of love for a woman,&rdquo; she
+cried, &ldquo;surely you cannot deny such a favor&mdash;such a little favor!
+Please, Peter, for the sake of old times!&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+Suddenly Peter started, and Miriam too. There came a voice from the
+doorway. &ldquo;So this is one of your lady friends, is it?&rdquo; And there stood
+Gladys, staring, rigid with anger, her little hands clenched. &ldquo;So this is
+one of your Red sweethearts, one of your nationalized women?&rdquo; And she
+stamped her foot. &ldquo;Get up, you hussy! Get up, you slut!&rdquo; And as Miriam
+continued to kneel, motionless with surprise, Gladys rushed at her, and
+clutched two handfuls of her heavy black hair, and pulled so that Miriam
+fell prone on the floor. &ldquo;I&rsquo;ll teach you, you free lover!&rdquo; she screamed.
+&ldquo;I&rsquo;ll teach you to make love to my husband!&rdquo; And she dragged Miriam about
+by that mop of black hair, kicking her and clawing her, until finally
+several of the bulls had to interfere to save the girl&rsquo;s life.
+</p>
+<p>
+As a matter of fact Gladys had been told about Peter&rsquo;s shameful past
+before she married him; Guffey had told her, and she had told Peter that
+Guffey had told her, she had reminded Peter of it many, many times. But
+the actual sight of one of these &ldquo;nationalized women&rdquo; had driven her into
+a frenzy, and it was a week before peace was restored in the Gudge family.
+Meantime poor Peter was buffeted by storms of emotion, both at home and in
+his office. They were getting ready the first Red train, and it seemed as
+if every foreign Red that Peter had ever known was besieging him, trying
+to get at him and harrow his soul and his conscience. Sadie Todd&rsquo;s cousin,
+who had been born in England, was shipped out on this first train, and
+also a Finnish lumberman whom Peter had known in the I. W. W., and a
+Bohemian cigar worker at whose home he had several times eaten, and
+finally Michael Dubin, the Jewish boy with whom he had spent fifteen days
+in jail, and who had been one of the victims of the black-snake whippings.
+</p>
+<p>
+Michael made no end of wailing, because he had a wife and three babies,
+and he set up the claim that when the &ldquo;bulls&rdquo; had raided his home they had
+stolen all his savings, two or three hundred dollars. Peter, of course,
+insisted that he could do nothing; Dubin was a Red and an alien, and he
+must go. When they were loading them on the train, there was Dubin&rsquo;s wife
+and half a hundred other women, shrieking and wringing their hands, and
+trying to break thru the guards to get near their loved ones. The police
+had to punch them in the stomachs with their clubs to hold them back, and
+in spite of all these blows, the hysterical Mrs. Dubin succeeded in
+breaking thru the guards, and she threw herself under the wheels of the
+train, and they were barely able to drag her away in time to save her
+life. Scenes like this would, of course, have a bad effect upon the
+public, and so Guffey called up the editors of all the newspapers, and
+obtained a gentleman&rsquo;s agreement that none of them would print any
+details.
+</p>
+<p>
+<br /><br />
+</p>
+<hr />
+<p>
+<a name="link2H_4_0084" id="link2H_4_0084"> </a>
+</p>
+<div style="height: 4em;">
+<br /><br /><br /><br />
+</div>
+<h2>
+Section 84
+</h2>
+<p>
+All over the country the Red trains were moving eastward, loaded with
+&ldquo;wobblies&rdquo; and communists, pacifists and anarchists, and a hundred other
+varieties of Bolsheviks. They got a shipload together and started them off
+for Russia&mdash;the &ldquo;Red Ark&rdquo; it was called, and the Red soap-boxers set
+tip a terrific uproar, and one Red clergyman compared the &ldquo;Red Ark&rdquo; to the
+Mayflower! Also there was some Red official in Washington, who made a fuss
+and cancelled a whole block of deportation orders, including some of
+Peter&rsquo;s own cases. This, naturally, was exasperating to Peter and his
+wife; and on top of it came another incident that was still more
+humiliating.
+</p>
+<p>
+There was a &ldquo;pink&rdquo; mass meeting held in American City, to protest against
+the deportations. Guffey said they would quite probably raid the meeting,
+and Peter must go along, so as to point out the Reds to the bulls. The
+work was in charge of a police detective by the name of Garrity, head of
+what was called the &ldquo;Bomb Squad&rdquo;; but this man didn&rsquo;t know very much, so
+he had the habit of coming to Peter for advice. Now he had the whole
+responsibility of this meeting, and he asked Peter to come up on the
+platform with him, and Peter went. Here was a vast audience&mdash;all the
+Red fury which had been pent up for many months, breaking loose in a
+whirlwind of excitement. Here were orators, well dressed and apparently
+respectable men, not in any way to be distinguished from the born rulers
+of the country, coming forward on the platform and uttering the most
+treasonable sentences, denouncing the government, denouncing the blockade
+against Russia, praising the Bolshevik government of Russia, declaring
+that the people who went away in the &ldquo;Soviet Ark&rdquo; were fortunate, because
+they were escaping from a land of tyranny into a land of freedom. At every
+few sentences the orator would be stopped by a storm of applause that
+broke from the audience.
+</p>
+<p>
+And what was a poor Irish Catholic police detective to make of a
+proposition like that? Here stood an orator declaring: &ldquo;Whenever any form
+of government becomes destructive to these ends, it is the right of the
+people to alter or to abolish it, and to institute new government, laying
+its foundations on such principles and organizing its powers in such form,
+as to them shall seem most likely to effect their safety and happiness.&rdquo;
+ And Garrity turned to Peter. &ldquo;What do you think of that?&rdquo; he said, his
+good-natured Irish face blank with dismay.
+</p>
+<p>
+Peter thought it was the limit. Peter knew that thousands of men all over
+America had been sent to prison for saying things less dangerous than
+that. Peter had read many sets of instructions from the office of the
+Attorney-General of the United States, and knew officially that that was
+precisely the thing you were never under any circumstances permitted to
+say, or to write, or even to think. So Peter said to Garrity: &ldquo;That
+fellow&rsquo;s gone far enough. You better arrest him.&rdquo; Garrity spoke to his
+men, and they sprang forward on the platform, and stopped the orator and
+placed him and all his fellow-orators under arrest, and ordered the
+audience out of the building. There were a couple of hundred policemen and
+detectives on hand to carry out Garrity&rsquo;s commands, and they formed a line
+with their clubs, and drove the crowd before them, and carted the speakers
+off in a patrol wagon. Then Peter went back to Guffey&rsquo;s office, and told
+what he had done&mdash;and got a reception that reminded him of the time
+Guffey had confronted him with the letter from Nell Doolin! &ldquo;Who do you
+think that was you pinched?&rdquo; cried Guffey. &ldquo;He&rsquo;s the brother of a United
+States senator! And what do you think he was saying? That was a sentence
+from the Declaration of Independence!&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+Peter couldn&rsquo;t &ldquo;get it&rdquo;; Peter was utterly lost. Could a man go ahead and
+break the law, just because he happened to be a brother of a United States
+senator? And what difference did it make whether a thing was in the
+Declaration of Independence, if it was seditious, if it wasn&rsquo;t allowed to
+be said? This incident brought Guffey and the police authorities of the
+city so much ridicule that Guffey got all his men together and read them a
+lecture, explaining to them just what were the limits of the anti-Red
+activities, just who it was they mustn&rsquo;t arrest, and just what it was they
+couldn&rsquo;t keep people from saying. For example, a man couldn&rsquo;t be arrested
+for quoting the Bible.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;But Jesus Christ, Guffey,&rdquo; broke in one of the men, &ldquo;have all of us got
+to know the Bible by heart?&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+There was a laugh all round. &ldquo;No,&rdquo; Guffey admitted, &ldquo;but at least be
+careful, and don&rsquo;t arrest anybody for saying anything that sounds as if it
+came from the Bible.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;But hell!&rdquo; put in another of the men, who happened to be an ex-preacher.
+&ldquo;That&rsquo;ll tie us up tighter than a jail-sentence! Look what&rsquo;s in the
+Bible!&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+And he proceeded to quote some of the things, and Peter knew that he had
+never heard any Bolshevik talk more outrageous than that. It made one
+realize more than ever how complicated was this Red problem; for Guffey
+insisted, in spite of everything, that every word out of the Bible was
+immune. &ldquo;Up in Winnipeg,&rdquo; said he, &ldquo;they indicted a clergyman for quoting
+two passages from the prophet Isaiah, but they couldn&rsquo;t face it, they had
+to let the fellow go.&rdquo; And the same thing was true of the Declaration of
+Independence; anybody might read it, no matter how seditious it was. And
+the same thing was true of the Constitution, even tho the part called the
+Bill of Rights declared that everybody in America might do all the things
+that Guffey&rsquo;s office was sending them to jail for doing!
+</p>
+<p>
+This seemed a plain crazy proposition; but Guffey explained it as a matter
+of politics. If they went too far, these fellows would go out and capture
+the votes from them, and maybe take away the government from them, and
+where would they be then? Peter had never paid any attention to politics
+before this, but both he and Gladys realized after this lecture that they
+must broaden their view-point. It was not enough to put the Reds in jail
+and crack their skulls, you had to keep public sympathy for what you were
+doing, you had to make the public understand that it was necessary, you
+had to carry on what was called &ldquo;propaganda,&rdquo; to keep the public aware of
+the odiousness of these cattle, and the desperate nature of their
+purposes.
+</p>
+<p>
+The man who perceived that most clearly was the Attorney-General of the
+country, and Guffey in his lecture pointed out the double nature of his
+activities. Not merely was the Attorney-General breaking up the Communist
+and the Communist Labor parties and sending their members to jail; he was
+using the funds of his office to send out an endless stream of propaganda,
+to keep the country frightened about these Red plots. Right now he had men
+in American City working over the data which Guffey had collected, and
+every week or two he would make a speech somewhere, or would issue a
+statement to the newspapers, telling of new bomb plots and new
+conspiracies to overthrow the government. And how clever he was about it!
+He would get the pictures of the very worst-looking of the Reds, pictures
+taken after they had been kept in jail for weeks without a shave, and with
+the third degree to spoil their tempers; and these pictures would be
+spread on a sheet with the caption: &ldquo;MEN LIKE THESE WOULD RULE YOU.&rdquo; This
+would be sent to ten thousand country newspapers all over the nation, and
+ninety-nine hundred would publish it, and ninety-nine million Americans
+would want to murder the Reds next morning. So successful had this plan
+proven that the Attorney-General was expecting to be nominated for
+President by means of it, and all the agencies of his department were
+working to that end.
+</p>
+<p>
+The same thing was being done by all the other agencies of big business
+all over the country. The &ldquo;Improve America League&rdquo; of American City was
+publishing full-page advertisements in the &ldquo;Times,&rdquo; and the &ldquo;Home and
+Fireside Association&rdquo; of Eldorado was doing the same thing in the Eldorado
+&ldquo;Times,&rdquo; and the &ldquo;Patriot&rsquo;s Defense Legion&rdquo; was doing the same thing in
+the Flagland &ldquo;Banner.&rdquo; They were investigating the records of all
+political candidates, and if any of them showed the faintest tinge of
+pink, Guffey&rsquo;s office would set to work to rake up their records and get
+up scandals on them, and the business men would contribute a big campaign
+fund, and these candidates would be snowed under at the polls. That was
+the kind of work they were doing, and all Guffey&rsquo;s operatives must bear in
+mind the importance of it, and must never take any step that would hamper
+this political campaign, this propaganda on behalf of law and order.
+</p>
+<p>
+<br /><br />
+</p>
+<hr />
+<p>
+<a name="link2H_4_0085" id="link2H_4_0085"> </a>
+</p>
+<div style="height: 4em;">
+<br /><br /><br /><br />
+</div>
+<h2>
+Section 85
+</h2>
+<p>
+Peter went out from this conference a sober man, realizing for the first
+time his responsibilities as a voter, and a shepherd to other voters.
+Peter agreed with Gladys that his views had been too narrow; his
+conception of the duties of a secret agent had been of the pre-war order.
+Now he must realize that the world was changed; now, in this new world
+made safe for democracy, the secret agent was the real ruler of society,
+the real master of affairs, the trustee, as it were, for civilization.
+Peter and his wife must take up this new role and make themselves fit for
+it. They ought of course not be moved by personal considerations, but at
+the same time they must recognize the fact that this higher role would be
+of great advantage to them; it would enable them to move up in the world,
+to meet the best people. Thru five or six years of her young life Gladys
+had sat polishing the fingernails and fondling the soft white hands of the
+genteel; and always a fire of determination had burnt in her breast, that
+some day she would belong to this world of gentility, she would meet these
+people, not as an employee, but as an equal, she would not merely hold
+their hands, but would have them hold hers.
+</p>
+<p>
+Now the chance had come. She had a little talk with Guffey, and Guffey
+said it would be a good idea, and he would speak to Billy Nash, the
+secretary of the &ldquo;Improve America League&rdquo;; and he did so, and next week
+the American City &ldquo;Times&rdquo; announced that on the following Sunday evening
+the Men&rsquo;s Bible Class of the Bethlehem Church would have an interesting
+meeting. It would be addressed by an &ldquo;under cover&rdquo; operative of the
+government, a former Red who had been for many years a most dangerous
+agitator, but had seen the error of his ways, and had made amends by
+giving his services to the government in the recent I. W. W. trials.
+</p>
+<p>
+The Bethlehem Church didn&rsquo;t amount to very much, it was an obscure sect
+like the Holy Rollers; but Gladys had been shrewd, and had insisted that
+you mustn&rsquo;t try to climb to the top of the mountain in one step. Peter
+must first &ldquo;try it on the dog,&rdquo; and if he failed, there would be no great
+harm done.
+</p>
+<p>
+But Gladys worked just as hard to make a success of this lecture as if
+they had been going into real society. She spent several days getting up
+her costume and Peter&rsquo;s, and she spent a whole day getting her toilet
+ready, and before they set out she spent at least an hour putting the
+finishing touches upon herself in front of a mirror, and seeing that Peter
+was proper in every detail. When Mr. Nash introduced her personally to the
+Rev. Zebediah Muggins, and when this apostle of the second advent came out
+upon the platform and introduced her husband to the crowded working-class
+audience, Gladys was so a-quiver with delight that it was more a pain than
+a pleasure.
+</p>
+<p>
+Peter did not do perfectly, of course. He lost himself a few times, and
+stammered and floundered about; but he remembered Glady&rsquo;s advice&mdash;if
+he got stuck, to smile and explain that he had never spoken in public
+before. So everything went along nicely, and everybody in the Men&rsquo;s Bible
+Class was aghast at the incredible revelations of this ex-Red and secret
+agent of law and order. So next week Peter was invited again&mdash;this
+time by the Young Saints&rsquo; League; and when he had made good there, he was
+drafted by the Ad. Men&rsquo;s Association, and then by the Crackers and Cheese
+Club. By this time he had acquired what Gladys called &ldquo;savwaa fair&rdquo;; his
+fame spread rapidly, and at last came the supreme hour&mdash;he was
+summoned to Park Avenue to address the members of the Friendly Society, a
+parish organization of the Church of the Divine Compassion!
+</p>
+<p>
+This was the goal upon which the eyes of Gladys had been fixed. This was
+the time that really counted, and Peter was groomed and rehearsed all over
+again. Their home was only a few blocks from the church, but Gladys
+insisted that they must positively arrive in a taxi-cab, and when they
+entered the Parish Hall and the Rev. de Willoughby Stotterbridge, that
+exquisite almost-English gentleman, came up and shook hands with them,
+Gladys knew that she had at last arrived. The clergyman himself escorted
+her to the platform, and after he had introduced Peter, he seated himself
+beside her, thus definitely putting a seal upon her social position.
+</p>
+<p>
+Peter, having learned his lecture by heart, having found out just what
+brought laughter and what brought tears and what brought patriotic
+applause, was now an assured success. After the lecture he answered
+questions, and two clerks in the employ of Billy Nash passed around
+membership cards of the &ldquo;Improve America League,&rdquo; membership dues five
+dollars a year, sustaining membership twenty-five dollars a year, life
+membership two hundred dollars cash. Peter was shaken hands with by
+members of the most exclusive social set in American City, and told by
+them all to keep it up&mdash;his country needed him. Next morning there
+was an account of his lecture in the &ldquo;Times,&rdquo; and the morning after there
+was an editorial about his revelations, with the moral: &ldquo;Join the Improve
+America League.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+<br /><br />
+</p>
+<hr />
+<p>
+<a name="link2H_4_0086" id="link2H_4_0086"> </a>
+</p>
+<div style="height: 4em;">
+<br /><br /><br /><br />
+</div>
+<h2>
+Section 86
+</h2>
+<p>
+That second morning, when Peter got to his office, he found a letter
+waiting for him, a letter written on very conspicuous and expensive
+stationery, and addressed in a woman&rsquo;s tall and sharp-pointed handwriting.
+Peter opened it and got a start, for at the top of the letter was some
+kind of crest, and a Latin inscription, and the words: &ldquo;Society of the
+Daughters of the American Revolution.&rdquo; The letter informed him by the hand
+of a secretary that Mrs. Warring Sammye requested that Mr. Peter Gudge
+would be so good as to call upon her that afternoon at three o&rsquo;clock.
+Peter studied the letter, and tried to figure out what kind of Red this
+was. He was impressed by the stationery and the regal tone, but that word
+&ldquo;Revolution&rdquo; was one of the forbidden words. Mrs. Warren Sammye must be
+one of the &ldquo;Parlor Reds,&rdquo; like Mrs. Godd.
+</p>
+<p>
+So Peter took the letter to McGivney, and said suspiciously, &ldquo;What kind of
+a Red plot is this?&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+McGivney read the letter, and said, &ldquo;Red plot? How do you mean?&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Why,&rdquo; explained Peter, &ldquo;it says &lsquo;Daughters of the American Revolution.&rsquo;&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+And McGivney looked at him; at first he thought that Peter was joking, but
+when he saw that the fellow was really in earnest, he guffawed in his
+face. &ldquo;You boob!&rdquo; he said. &ldquo;Didn&rsquo;t you ever hear of the American
+Revolution? Don&rsquo;t you know anything about the Fourth of July?&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+Just then the telephone rang and interrupted them, and McGivney shoved the
+letter to him saying, &ldquo;Ask your wife about it!&rdquo; So when Gladys came in,
+Peter gave her the letter, and she was much excited. It appeared that Mrs.
+Warring Sammye was a very tip-top society lady in American City, and this
+American Revolution of which she was a daughter was a perfectly
+respectable revolution that had happened a long time ago; the very best
+people belonged to it, and it was legal and proper to write about, and
+even to put on your letterheads. Peter must go home and get himself into
+his best clothes at once, and telephone to the secretary that he would be
+pleased to call upon Mrs. Warring Sammye at the hour indicated.
+Incidentally, there were a few more things for Peter to study. He must get
+a copy of the social register, &ldquo;Who&rsquo;s Who in American City,&rdquo; and he must
+get a history of his country, and learn about the Declaration of
+Independence, and what was the difference between a revolution that had
+happened a long time ago and one that was happening now.
+</p>
+<p>
+So Peter went to call on the great society lady in her grey stone mansion,
+and found her every bit as opulent as Mrs. Godd, with the addition that
+she respected her own social position; she did not make the mistake of
+treating Peter as an equal, and so it did not occur to Peter that he might
+settle down permanently in her home. Her purpose was to tell Peter that
+she had heard of his lecture about the Red menace, and that she was
+chairman of the Board of Directors of the Lady Patronesses of the Home for
+Disabled War Veterans in American City, and she wanted to arrange to have
+Peter deliver this lecture to the veterans. And Peter, instructed in
+advance by Gladys, said that he would be very glad to donate this lecture
+as a patriotic contribution. Mrs. Warring Sammye thanked him gravely in
+the name of his country, and said she would let him know the date.
+</p>
+<p>
+Peter went home, and Gladys made a wry face, because the lecture was to be
+delivered before a lot of good-for-nothing soldiers in some hall, when it
+had been her hope that it was to be delivered to the Daughters themselves,
+and in Mrs. Warring Sammye&rsquo;s home. However, to have attracted Mrs. Warring
+Sammye&rsquo;s attention for anything was in itself a triumph. So Gladys was
+soon cheerful again, and she told Peter about Mrs. Warring Sammye&rsquo;s life;
+one picked up such valuable knowledge in the gossip at the manicure
+parlors, it appeared.
+</p>
+<p>
+Then, being in a friendly mood, Gladys talked to Peter about himself. They
+had mounted to a height from which they could look back upon the past and
+see it as a whole, and in the intimacy and confidence of their domestic
+partnership they could draw lessons from their mistakes and plan their
+future wisely. Peter had made many blunders&mdash;he must surely admit
+that. Did Peter admit that? Yes, Peter did. But, continued Gladys, he had
+struggled bravely, and he had the supreme good fortune to have secured for
+himself that greatest of life&rsquo;s blessings, the cooperation of a good and
+capable woman. Gladys was very emphatic about this latter, and Peter
+agreed with her. He agreed also when she stated that it is the duty of a
+good and capable wife to protect her husband for the balance of their
+life&rsquo;s journey, so that he would be able to avoid the traps which his
+enemies set for his feet. Peter, having learned by bitter experience,
+would never again go chasing after a pretty face, and wake up next morning
+to find his pockets empty. Peter admitted this too. As this conversation
+progressed, he realized that the tour of triumph his life had become was a
+thing entirely of his wife&rsquo;s creation; at least, he realized that there
+would be no use in trying to change his wife&rsquo;s conviction on the subject.
+Likewise he meekly accepted her prophecies as to his future conduct; he
+would bring home his salary at the end of each week, and his wife would
+use it, together with her own salary, to improve the appearance and tone
+of both of them, and to aid them to climb to a higher social position.
+</p>
+<p>
+Peter, following his wife&rsquo;s careful instructions, has already become more
+dignified in his speech, more grave in his movements. She tells him that
+the future of society depends on his knowledge and his skill, and he
+agrees to this also. He has learned what you can do and what you had
+better not do; he will never again cross the dead-line into crime, or take
+chances with experiments in blackmail. He will try no more free lance work
+under the evil influence of low creatures like Nell Doolin, but will stand
+in with the &ldquo;machine,&rdquo; and bear in mind that honesty is the best policy.
+So he will steadily progress; he will meet the big men of the country, and
+will go to them, not cringing and twisting his hat in his hands, but with
+quiet self-possession. He will meet the agents of the Attorney-General
+aspiring to become President, and will furnish them with material for
+their weekly Red scares. He will meet legislators who want to unseat
+elected Socialists, and governors who wish to jail the leaders of &ldquo;outlaw&rdquo;
+ strikes. He will meet magazine writers getting up articles, and popular
+novelists looking for local Red color.
+</p>
+<p>
+But Peter&rsquo;s best bid of all will be as a lecturer. He will be able to
+travel all over the country, making a sensation. Did he know why? No,
+Peter answered, he was not sure he did. Well, Gladys could tell him; it
+was because he was romantic. Peter didn&rsquo;t know just what this word meant,
+but it sounded flattering, so he smiled sheepishly, showing his crooked
+teeth, and asked how Gladys found out that he was romantic. The reply was
+a sudden order for him to stand up and turn around slowly.
+</p>
+<p>
+Peter didn&rsquo;t like to get up from his comfortable Morris chair, but he did
+what his wife asked him. She inspected him on all sides and exclaimed,
+&ldquo;Peter, you must go on a diet; you&rsquo;re getting ombongpoing!&rdquo; She said this
+in horrified tones, and Peter was frightened, because it sounded like a
+disease. But Gladys added: &ldquo;You can not be a romantic figure on a lecture
+platform if you&rsquo;ve got a bay-window!&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+Peter found it interesting to be talked about, so he asked again why
+Gladys thought he was romantic. There were several reasons, she said, but
+the main one was that he had been a dangerous criminal, and had reformed,
+which pleased the church people; he had made a happy ending by marriage,
+which pleased those who read novels.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Is that so?&rdquo; said Peter, guilelessly, and she assured him that it was.
+&ldquo;And what else?&rdquo; he asked, and she explained that he had known intimately
+and at first hand those dreadful and dangerous people, those ogres of the
+modern world, the Bolsheviks, about whom the average man and woman learned
+only thru the newspapers. And not merely did he tell a sensational story,
+but he ended it with a money-making lesson. The lesson was &ldquo;Contribute to
+the Improve America League. Make out your checks to the Home and Fireside
+Association. The existence of your country depends upon your sustaining
+the Patriot&rsquo;s Defense Legion.&rdquo; So the fame of Peter&rsquo;s lecture would
+spread, and the Guffeys and Billy Nashes of every city and town in America
+would clamor for him to come, and when he came, the newspapers would
+publish his picture, and he and his wife would be welcomed by leaders of
+the best society. They would become social lions, and would see the homes
+of the rich, and gradually become one of the rich.
+</p>
+<p>
+Gladys looked her spouse over again, as they started to their sleeping
+apartment. Yes, he was undoubtedly putting on &ldquo;ombongpoing&rdquo;; he would have
+to take up golf. He was wearing a little American flag dangling from his
+watch chain, and she wondered if that wasn&rsquo;t a trifle crude. Gladys
+herself now wore a real diamond ring, and had learned to say &ldquo;vahse&rdquo; and
+&ldquo;baahth.&rdquo; She yawned prettily as she took off her lovely brown
+&ldquo;tailor-made,&rdquo; and reflected that such things come with ease and security.
+</p>
+<p>
+Both she and Peter now had these in full measure. They had lost all fear
+of ever finding themselves out of a job. They had come to understand that
+the Red menace is not to be so easily exterminated; it is a distemper that
+lurks in the blood of society, and breaks out every now and then in a new
+rash. Gladys had come to agree with the Reds to this extent, that so long
+as there is a class of the rich and prosperous, so long will there be
+social discontent, so long will there be some that make their living by
+agitating, denouncing and crying out for change. Society is like a garden;
+each year when you plant your vegetables there springs up also a crop of
+weeds, and you have to go down the rows and chop off the heads of these
+weeds. Gladys&rsquo; husband is an expert gardener, he knows how to chop weeds,
+and he knows that society will never be able to dispense with his
+services. So long as gardening continues, Peter will be a head
+weedchopper, and a teacher of classes of young weedchoppers.
+</p>
+<p>
+Ah, it was fine to have married such a man! It was the reward a good woman
+received for helping her husband, making him into a good citizen, a
+patriot and an upholder of law and order: For always, of course, those who
+own the garden would see that their head weedchopper was taken care of,
+and had his share of the best that the garden produced. Gladys stood
+before her looking-glass, braiding her hair for the night, and thinking of
+the things she would ask from this garden. She and Peter had earned, and
+they would demand, the sweetest flowers, the most luscious fruits.
+Suddenly Gladys stretched wide her arms in an ecstasy of realization.
+&ldquo;We&rsquo;re a Success, Peter! We&rsquo;re a Success! We&rsquo;ll have money and all the
+lovely things it will buy! Do you realize, Peter, what a hit you&rsquo;ve made?&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+Peter saw her face of joy, but he was a tiny bit frightened and uncertain,
+because of this unusual sharing of the honors. So Gladys was impelled to
+affection, mingled with pity. She held out her arms to him. &ldquo;Poor, dear
+Peter! He&rsquo;s had such a hard life! It was cruel he didn&rsquo;t have me sooner to
+help him!&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+And then Gladys reflected for a moment, and was moved to another outburst.
+&ldquo;Just think, Peter, how wonderful it is to be an American! In America you
+can always rise if you do your duty! America is the land of the free! Your
+example of a poor boy&rsquo;s success ought to convince even the fool Reds that
+they&rsquo;re wrong&mdash;that any boy can rise if he works hard! Why, I&rsquo;ve
+heard it said that in America the poorest boy can rise to be President!
+How would you like to be President, Peter?&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+Peter hesitated. He doubted if he was equal to that big a job, but he knew
+that it would not please Gladys for him to say so. He murmured, &ldquo;Perhaps&mdash;some
+day&mdash;&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Anyhow, Peter,&rdquo; his wife continued, &ldquo;I&rsquo;m for this country! I&rsquo;m an
+American!&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+And this time Peter didn&rsquo;t have to hesitate. &ldquo;You bet!&rdquo; he said, and added
+his favorite formula&mdash;&ldquo;100%!&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+<br /><br />
+</p>
+<hr />
+<p>
+<a name="link2H_APPE" id="link2H_APPE"> </a>
+</p>
+<div style="height: 4em;">
+<br /><br /><br /><br />
+</div>
+<h2>
+APPENDIX
+</h2>
+<p>
+A little experimenting with the manuscript of &ldquo;100%" has revealed to the
+writer that everybody has a series of questions they wish immediately to
+ask: How much of it is true? To what extent have the business men of
+America been compelled to take over the detection and prevention of
+radicalism? Have they, in putting down the Reds, been driven to such
+extreme measures as you have here shown?
+</p>
+<p>
+A few of the incidents in &ldquo;100%" are fictional, for example the story of
+Nell Doolin and Nelse Ackerman; but everything that has social
+significance is truth, and has been made to conform to facts personally
+known to the writer or to his friends. Practically all the characters in
+&ldquo;100%" are real persons. Peter Gudge is a real person, and has several
+times been to call upon the writer in the course of his professional
+activities; Guffey and McGivney are real persons, and so is Billy Nash,
+and so is Gladys Frisbie.
+</p>
+<p>
+To begin at the beginning: the &ldquo;Goober case&rdquo; parallels in its main
+outlines the case of Tom Mooney. If you wish to know about this case, send
+fifteen cents to the Mooney Defense Committee, Post Office Box 894, San
+Francisco, for the pamphlet, &ldquo;Shall Mooney Hang,&rdquo; by Robert Minor. The
+business men of San Francisco raised a million dollars to save the city
+from union labor, and the Mooney case was the way they did it. It
+happened, however, that the judge before whom Mooney was convicted
+weakened, and wrote to the Attorney-General of the State to the effect
+that he had become convinced that Mooney was convicted by perjured
+testimony. But meantime Mooney was in jail, and is there still. Fremont
+Older, editor of the San Francisco &ldquo;Call,&rdquo; who has been conducting an
+investigation into this case, has recently written to the author:
+&ldquo;Altogether, it is the most amazing story I have ever had anything to do
+with. When all is known that I think can be known, it will be shown
+clearly that the State before an open-eyed community was able to murder a
+man with the instruments that the people have provided for bringing about
+justice. There isn&rsquo;t a scrap of testimony in either of the Mooney or
+Billings cases that wasn&rsquo;t perjured, except that of the man who drew the
+blue prints of Market Street.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+To what extent has the detection and punishment of radicalism in America
+passed out of the hands of public authorities and into the hands of &ldquo;Big
+Business?&rdquo; Any business man will of course agree that when &ldquo;Big Business&rdquo;
+ has interests to protect, it must and will protect them. So far as
+possible it will make use of the public authorities; but when thru
+corruption or fear of politics these fail, &ldquo;Big Business&rdquo; has to act for
+itself. In the Colorado coal strike the coal companies raised the money to
+pay the state militia, and recruited new companies of militia from their
+private detectives. The Reds called this &ldquo;Government by Gunmen,&rdquo; and the
+writer in his muckraking days wrote a novel about it, &ldquo;King Coal.&rdquo; The man
+who directed the militia during this coal strike was A. C. Felts of the
+Baldwin-Felts Detective Agency, who was killed just the other day while
+governing several coal counties in West Virginia.
+</p>
+<p>
+You will find this condition in the lumber country of Washington and
+Oregon, in the oil country of Oklahoma and Kansas, in the copper country
+of Michigan, Montana and Arizona, and in all the big coal districts. In
+the steel country of Western Pennsylvania you will find that all the local
+authorities are officials of the steel companies. If you go to Bristol, R.
+I., you will find that the National India Rubber Company has agreed to pay
+the salaries of two-thirds of the town&rsquo;s police force.
+</p>
+<p>
+In every large city in America the employers&rsquo; associations have raised
+funds to hold down the unions and smash the Reds, and these funds are
+being expended in the way portrayed in &ldquo;100%.&rdquo; In Los Angeles the
+employers&rsquo; association raised a million dollars, and the result was the
+case of Sydney R. Flowers, briefly sketched in this story under the name
+of &ldquo;Sydney.&rdquo; The reader who wishes the details of this case is referred to
+Chapter LXVI of &ldquo;The Brass Cheek.&rdquo; Flowers has been twice tried, and is
+about to be tried a third time, and our District-Attorney is quoted as
+saying that he will be tried half a dozen times if necessary. At the last
+trial there were produced a total of twenty-five witnesses against
+Flowers, and out of these nineteen were either Peter Gudges and McGivneys,
+or else police detectives, or else employees of the local political
+machine. A deputy United States attorney, talking to me about the case,
+told me that he had refused to prosecute it because he realized that the
+&ldquo;Paul letter,&rdquo; upon which the arrest had been based, was a frame-up, and
+that he was quite sure he knew who had written it. He also told me that
+there had been formed in Los Angeles a secret committee of fifty of the
+most active rich men of the town; that he could not find out what they
+were doing, but they came to his offices and demanded the secret records
+of the government; and that when he refused to prosecute Flowers they had
+influence enough to have the governor of California telegraph to
+Washington in protest. Questioned on the witness stand, I repeated these
+statements, and the deputy United States attorney was called to the stand
+and attributed them to my &ldquo;literary imagination.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+In the old Russian and Austrian empires the technique of trapping
+agitators was well developed, and the use of spies and &ldquo;under cover&rdquo; men
+for the purpose of luring the Reds into crime was completely worked out.
+We have no English equivalent for the phrase &ldquo;agent provocateur,&rdquo; but in
+the last four years we have put thousands of them at work in America. In
+the case against Flowers three witnesses were produced who had been active
+among the I. W. Ws., trying to incite crime, and were being paid to give
+testimony for the state. One of these men admitted that he had himself
+burned some forty barns, and was now receiving three hundred dollars a
+month and expenses. At the trial of William Bross Lloyd in Chicago,
+charged with membership in the Communist party, a similar witness was
+produced. Santeri Nourteva, of, the Soviet Bureau in New York, has charged
+that Louis C. Fraina, editor of the &ldquo;Revolutionary Age,&rdquo; was a government
+agent, and Fraina wrote into the platform of the Communist party the
+planks which were used in prosecuting and deporting its members. On
+December 27, 1919, the chief of the Bureau of Investigation of the
+Department of Justice in Washington sent to the head of his local bureau
+in Boston a telegram containing the following sentences: &ldquo;You should
+arrange with your under cover informants to have meetings of the Communist
+Party and Communist Labor Party held on the night set. I have been
+informed by some of the bureau officers that such arrangements will be
+made.&rdquo; So much evidence of the activity of the provocateur was produced
+before Federal Judge G. W. Anderson that he declared as follows: &ldquo;What
+does appear beyond reasonable dispute is that the Government owns and
+operates some part of the Communist Party.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+It appears that Judge Anderson does not share the high opinion of the
+&ldquo;under cover&rdquo; operative set forth by the writer of &ldquo;100%.&rdquo; Says Judge
+Anderson: &ldquo;I cannot adopt the contention that Government spies are any
+more trustworthy, or less disposed to make trouble in order to profit
+therefrom, than are spies in private industry. Except in time of war, when
+a Nathan Hale may be a spy, spies are always necessarily drawn from the
+unwholesome and untrustworthy classes. A right-minded man refuses such a
+job. The evil wrought by the spy system in industry has, for decades, been
+incalculable. Until it is eliminated, decent human relations cannot exist
+between employers and employees, or even among employees. It destroys
+trust and confidence; it kills human kindliness; it propagates hate.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+To what extent have the governmental authorities of America been forced to
+deny to the Reds the civil rights guaranteed to good Americans by the laws
+and the constitution? The reader who is curious on this point may send the
+sum of twenty-five cents to the American Civil Liberties Union, 138 West
+13th Street, New York, for the pamphlet entitled, &ldquo;Report upon the Illegal
+Practices of the United States Department of Justice,&rdquo; signed by twelve
+eminent lawyers in the country, including a dean of the Harvard Law
+school, and a United States attorney who resigned because of his
+old-fashioned ideas of law. This pamphlet contains sixty-seven pages, with
+numerous exhibits and photographs. The practices set forth are listed
+under six heads: Cruel and unusual punishments; arrests without warrant;
+unreasonable searches and seizures; provocative agents; compelling persons
+to be witnesses against themselves; propaganda by the Department of
+Justice. The reader may also ask for the pamphlet entitled &ldquo;Memorandum
+Regarding the Persecution of the Radical Labor Movement in the United
+States;&rdquo; also for the pamphlet entitled &ldquo;War Time Prosecution and Mob
+Violence,&rdquo; dated March, 1919, giving a list of cases which occupies forty
+pages of closely printed type. Also he might read &ldquo;The Case of the Rand
+School,&rdquo; published by the Rand School of Social Science, 7 East Fifteenth
+Street, New York, and the pamphlets published by the National Office of
+the Socialist Party, 220 South Ashland Blvd., Chicago, dealing with the
+prosecutions of that organization.
+</p>
+<p>
+To what extent has it been necessary to torture the Reds in prison in
+America? Those who are interested are advised to write to Harry
+Weinberger, 32 Union Square, New York, for the pamphlet entitled &ldquo;Twenty
+Years Prison,&rdquo; dealing with the case of Mollie Steimer, and three others
+who were sentenced for distributing a leaflet protesting against the war
+on Russia; also to the American Civil Liberties Union for the pamphlet
+entitled &ldquo;Political Prisoners in Federal Military Prisons,&rdquo; also the
+pamphlet, &ldquo;Uncle Sam: Jailer,&rdquo; by Winthrop D. Lane, reprinted from the
+&ldquo;Survey;&rdquo; also the pamphlet entitled &ldquo;The Soviet of Deer Island, Boston
+Harbor,&rdquo; published by the Boston Branch of the American Civil Liberties
+Union; also for the publications of the American Industrial Company, and
+the American Freedom Foundation, 166 West Washington St., Chicago.
+</p>
+<p>
+There may be some reader with a sense of humor who asks about the brother
+of a United States senator being arrested for reading a paragraph from the
+Declaration of Independence. This gentleman was the brother of United
+States Senator France of Maryland, and curiously enough, the arrest took
+place in the city of Philadelphia, where the Declaration of Independence
+was adopted. There may be some reader who is curious about a clergyman
+being indicted and arrested in Winnipeg for having quoted the prophet
+Isaiah. The paragraph from the indictment in question reads as follows:
+&ldquo;That J. S. Woodsworth, on or about the month of June, in the year of our
+Lord one thousand nine hundred and nineteen, at the City of Winnipeg, in
+the Province of Manitoba, unlawfully and seditiously published seditious
+libels in the words and figures following: &lsquo;Woe unto them that decree
+unrighteous decrees, and that write grievousness which they have
+prescribed; to turn aside the needy from judgment, and to take away their
+right from the poor of my people that widows may be their prey and that
+they may rob the fatherless. . . . And they shall build houses and inhabit
+them, and they shall plant vineyards and eat the fruit of them. They shall
+not build and another inhabit, they shall not plant and another eat; for
+as the days of a tree are the days of my people, and mine elect shall long
+enjoy the work of their hands.&rsquo;&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+There has been reference in this book to the Centralia case. No one can
+consider that he understands the technique of holding down the Reds until
+he has studied this case, and therefore every friend of &ldquo;Big Business&rdquo;
+ should send fifty cents, either to the I. W. W. Headquarters, 1001 West
+Madison Street, Chicago, or to the &ldquo;Liberator,&rdquo; New York, or to the
+&ldquo;Appeal to Reason,&rdquo; Girard, Kansas, for the booklet, &ldquo;The Centralia
+Conspiracy,&rdquo; by Ralph Chaplin, who attended the Centralia trial, and has
+collected all the details and presents them with photographs and
+documents. Many other stories about the I. W. W. have been told in the
+course of &ldquo;100%.&rdquo; The reader will wish to know, are these men really so
+dangerous, and have the business men of America been driven to treat them
+as here described. The reader may again address the I. W. W. National
+Headquarters for a four-page leaflet with the quaint title, &ldquo;With Drops of
+Blood the History of the Industrial Workers of the World has Been
+Written.&rdquo; Despite the fact that it is a bare record of cases, there are
+many men serving long terms in prison in the United States for the offense
+of having in their possession a copy of this leaflet, &ldquo;With Drops of
+Blood.&rdquo; But the readers of this book, being all of them 100% Americans
+engaged in learning the technique of smashing the Reds, will, I feel sure,
+not be interfered with by the business men. Also I trust that the business
+men will not object to my reprinting a few paragraphs from the leaflet, in
+order to make the public realize how dangerously these Reds can write. I
+will, of course, not follow their incendiary example and spatter my page
+with big drops of imitation blood. I quote:
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;We charge that I. W. W. members have been murdered, and mention here a
+few of those who have lost their lives:
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Joseph Michalish was shot to death by a mob of so-called citizens.
+Michael Hoey was beaten to death in San Diego. Samuel Chinn was so
+brutally beaten in the county jail at Spokane, Washington, that he died
+from the injuries. Joseph Hillstrom was judicially murdered within the
+walls of the penitentiary at Salt Lake City, Utah. Anna Lopeza, a textile
+worker, was shot and killed, and two other Fellow Workers were murdered
+during the strike at Lawrence, Massachusetts. Frank Little, a cripple, was
+lynched by hirelings of the Copper Trust at Butte, Montana. John Looney,
+A. Robinowitz, Hugo Gerlot, Gustav Johnson, Felix Baron, and others were
+killed by a mob of Lumber Trust gunmen on the Steamer Verona at the dock
+at Everett, Washington. J. A. Kelly was arrested and re-arrested at
+Seattle, Washington; finally died from the effects of the frightful
+treatment he received. Four members of the I. W. W. were killed at Grabow,
+Louisiana, where thirty were shot and seriously wounded. Two members were
+dragged to death behind an automobile at Ketchikan, Alaska.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;These are but a few of the many who have given up their lives on the
+altar of Greed, sacrificed in the ages-long struggle for Industrial
+Freedom.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;We charge that many thousands of members of this organization have been
+imprisoned, on most occasions arrested without warrant and held without
+charge. To verify this statement it is but necessary that you read the
+report of the Commission on Industrial Relations wherein is given
+testimony of those who know of conditions at Lawrence, Massachusetts,
+where nearly 900 men and women were thrown into prison during the Textile
+Workers&rsquo; Strike at that place. This same report recites the fact that
+during the Silk Workers&rsquo; Strike at Paterson, New Jersey, nearly 1,900 men
+and women were cast into jail without charge or reason. Throughout the
+northwest these kinds of outrages have been continually perpetrated
+against members of the I. W. W. County jails and city prisons in nearly
+every state in the Union have held or are holding members of this
+organization.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;We charge that members of the I. W. W. have been tarred and feathered.
+Frank H. Meyers was tarred and feathered by a gang of prominent citizens
+at North Yakima, Washington. D. S. Dietz was tarred and feathered by a mob
+led by representatives of the Lumber Trust at Sedro, Wooley, Washington.
+John L. Metzen, attorney for the Industrial Workers of the World, was
+tarred and feathered and severely beaten by a mob of citizens of Staunton,
+Illinois. At Tulsa, Oklahoma, a mob of bankers and other business men
+gathered up seventeen members of the I. W. W., loaded them in automobiles,
+carried them out of town to a patch of woods, and there tarred and
+feathered and beat them with rope.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;We charge that members of the Industrial Workers of the World have been
+deported, and cite the cases of Bisbee, Arizona, where 1,164 miners, many
+of them members of the I. W. W., and their friends, were dragged out of
+their homes, loaded upon box cars, and sent out of the camp. They were
+confined for months at Columbus, New Mexico. Many cases are now pending
+against the copper companies and business men of Bisbee. A large number of
+members were deported from Jerome, Arizona. Seven members of the I. W. W.
+were deported from Florence, Oregon, and were lost for days in the woods,
+Tom Lassiter, a crippled news vender, was taken out in the middle of the
+night and badly beaten by a mob for selling the Liberator and other
+radical papers.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;We charge that members of the I. W. W. have been cruelly and inhumanly
+beaten. Hundreds of members can show scars upon their lacerated bodies
+that were inflicted upon them when they were compelled to run the
+gauntlet. Joe Marko and many others were treated in this fashion at San
+Diego, California. James Rowan was nearly beaten to death at Everett,
+Washington. At Lawrence, Massachusetts, the thugs of the Textile Trust
+beat men and women who had been forced to go on strike to get a little
+more of the good things of life. The shock and cruel whipping which they
+gave one little Italian woman caused her to give premature birth to a
+child. At Red Lodge, Montana, a member&rsquo;s home was invaded and he was hung
+by the neck before his screaming wife and children. At Franklin, New
+Jersey, August 29, 1917, John Avila, an I. W. W., was taken in broad
+daylight by the chief of police and an auto-load of business men to a
+woods near the town and there hung to a tree. He was cut down before death
+ensued, and badly beaten. It was five hours before Avila regained
+consciousness, after which the town &lsquo;judge&rsquo; sentenced him to three months
+at hard labor.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;We charge that members of the I. W. W. have been starved. This statement
+can be verified by the conditions existing in most any county jail where
+members of the I. W. W. are confined. A very recent instance is at Topeka,
+Kansas, where members were compelled to go on a hunger strike as a means
+of securing food for themselves that would sustain life. Members have been
+forced to resort to the hunger strike as a means of getting better food in
+many places. You are requested to read the story written by Winthrop D.
+Lane, which appears in the Sept. 6, 1919, number of &lsquo;The Survey.&rsquo; This
+story is a graphic description of the county jails in Kansas.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;We charge that I. W. W. members have been denied the right of
+citizenship, and in each instance the judge frankly told the applicants
+that they were refused on account of membership in the Industrial Workers
+of the World, accompanying this with abusive remarks; members were denied
+their citizenship papers by judge Hanford at Seattle, Washington, and
+judge Paul O&rsquo;Boyle at Scranton, Pennsylvania.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;We charge that members of the I. W. W. have been denied the privilege of
+defense. This being an organization of working men who had little or no
+funds of their own, it was necessary to appeal to the membership and the
+working class generally for funds to provide a proper defense. The postal
+authorities, acting under orders from the Postmaster-General at
+Washington, D. C., have deliberately prevented the transportation of our
+appeals, our subscription lists, our newspapers. These have been piled up
+in the postoffices and we have never received a return of the stamps
+affixed for mailing.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;We charge that the members of the I. W. W. have been held in exorbitant
+bail. As an instance there is the case of Pietro Pierre held in the county
+jail at Topeka, Kansas. His bond was fixed at $5,000, and when the amount
+was tendered it was immediately raised to $10,000. This is only one of the
+many instances that could be recorded.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;We charge that members of the I. W. W. have been compelled to submit to
+involuntary servitude. This does not refer to members confined in the
+penitentiaries, but would recall the reader&rsquo;s attention to an I. W. W.
+member under arrest in Birmingham, Alabama, taken from the prison and
+placed on exhibition at a fair given in that city where admission of
+twenty-five cents was charged to see the I. W. W.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+Finally, for the benefit of the reader who asks how it happens that such
+incidents are not more generally known to the public, I will reprint the
+following, from pages 382-383 of &ldquo;The Brass Check,&rdquo; dealing with the &ldquo;New
+York Times,&rdquo; and its treatment of the writer&rsquo;s novel, &ldquo;Jimmie Higgins&rdquo;:
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;In the last chapters of this story an American soldier is represented as
+being tortured in an American military prison. Says the &lsquo;Times&rsquo;:
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;&lsquo;Mr. Sinclair should produce the evidence upon which he bases his
+astounding accusations, if he has any. If he has simply written on hearsay
+evidence, or, worse still, let himself be guided by his craving to be
+sensational, he has laid himself open not only to censure but to
+punishment.&rsquo; 
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;In reply to this, I send to the &lsquo;Times&rsquo; a perfectly respectful letter,
+citing scores of cases, and telling the &lsquo;Times&rsquo; where hundreds of other
+cases may be found. The &lsquo;Times&rsquo; returns this letter without comment. A
+couple of months pass, and as a result of the ceaseless agitation of the
+radicals, there is a congressional investigation, and evidence of
+atrocious cruelties is forced into the newspapers. The &lsquo;Times&rsquo; publishes
+an editorial entitled, &lsquo;Prison Camp Cruelties,&rsquo; the first sentence of
+which reads: &lsquo;The fact that American soldiers confined in prison-camps
+have been treated with extreme brutality may now be regarded as
+established.&rsquo; So again I write a polite letter to the &lsquo;Times,&rsquo; pointing
+out that I think they owe me an apology. And how does the &lsquo;Times&rsquo; treat
+that? It alters my letter without my permission. It cuts out my request
+for an apology, and also my quotation of its own words calling for my
+punishment! The &lsquo;Times,&rsquo; caught in a hole, refuses to let me remind its
+readers that it wanted me &lsquo;punished&rsquo; for telling the truth! &lsquo;All the News
+that&rsquo;s Fit to Print!&rsquo;&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<div style="height: 6em;">
+<br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br />
+</div>
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+<pre>
+
+
+
+
+
+End of Project Gutenberg&rsquo;s 100%: The Story of a Patriot, by Upton Sinclair
+
+*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 100%: THE STORY OF A PATRIOT ***
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+</html>
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+Project Gutenberg's 100%: The Story of a Patriot, by Upton Sinclair
+
+This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with
+almost no restrictions whatsoever.  You may copy it, give it away or
+re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included
+with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org
+
+
+Title: 100%: The Story of a Patriot
+
+Author: Upton Sinclair
+
+
+Release Date: May, 2004 [EBook #5776]
+This file was first posted on September 1, 2002
+Last updated: April 29, 2013
+
+Language: English
+
+Character set encoding: ASCII
+
+*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 100%: THE STORY OF A PATRIOT ***
+
+
+
+
+Produced by Charles Aldarondo
+
+
+
+
+
+
+100%: THE STORY OF A PATRIOT
+
+By Upton Sinclair
+
+Published By The Author
+
+Pasadena, California
+
+1920
+
+
+
+TO MY WIFE
+
+Who is the creator of the most charming character in this story,
+"Mrs. Godd," and who positively refuses to permit the book to go to
+press until it has been explained that the character is a Grecian
+Godd and not a Hebrew Godd, so that no one may accuse the creator of
+sacrilege.
+
+
+
+
+Section 1
+
+
+Now and then it occurs to one to reflect upon what slender threads
+of accident depend the most important circumstances of his life; to
+look back and shudder, realizing how close to the edge of
+nothingness his being has come. A young man is walking down the
+street, quite casually, with an empty mind and no set purpose; he
+comes to a crossing, and for no reason that he could tell he takes
+the right hand turn instead of the left; and so it happens that he
+encounters a blue-eyed girl, who sets his heart to beating. He meets
+the girl, marries her--and she became your mother. But now, suppose
+the young man had taken the left hand turn instead of the right, and
+had never met the blue-eyed girl; where would you be now, and what
+would have become of those qualities of mind which you consider of
+importance to the world, and those grave affairs of business to
+which your time is devoted?
+
+Something like that it was which befell Peter Gudge; just such an
+accident, changing the whole current of his life, and making the
+series of events with which this story deals. Peter was walking down
+the street one afternoon, when a woman approached and held out to
+him a printed leaflet. "Read this, please," she said.
+
+And Peter, who was hungry, and at odds with the world, answered
+gruffly: "I got no money." He thought it was an advertising dodger,
+and he said: "I can't buy nothin'."
+
+"It isn't anything for sale," answered the woman. "It's a message."
+
+"Religion?" said Peter. "I just got kicked out of a church."
+
+"No, not a church," said the woman. "It's something different; put
+it in your pocket." She was an elderly woman with gray hair, and she
+followed along, smiling pleasantly at this frail, poor-looking
+stranger, but nagging at him. "Read it some time when you've nothing
+else to do." And so Peter, just to get rid of her, took the leaflet
+and thrust it into his pocket, and went on, and in a minute or two
+had forgotten all about it.
+
+Peter was thinking--or rather Peter's stomach was thinking for him;
+for when you have had nothing to eat all day, and nothing on the day
+before but a cup of coffee and one sandwich, your thought-centers
+are transferred from the top to the middle of you. Peter was
+thinking that this was a hell of a life. Who could have foreseen
+that just because he had stolen one miserable fried doughnut, he
+would lose his easy job and his chance of rising in the world?
+Peter's whole being was concentrated on the effort to rise in the
+world; to get success, which means money, which means ease and
+pleasure--the magic names which lure all human creatures.
+
+But who could have foreseen that Mrs. Smithers would have kept count
+of those fried doughnuts every time anybody passed thru her pantry?
+And it was only that one ridiculous circumstance which had brought
+Peter to his present misery. But for that he might have had his
+lunch of bread and dried herring and weak tea in the home of the
+shoe-maker's wife, and might have still been busy with his job of
+stirring up dissension in the First Apostolic Church, otherwise
+known as the Holy Rollers, and of getting the Rev. Gamaliel Lunk
+turned out, and Shoemaker Smithers established at the job of pastor,
+with Peter Gudge as his right hand man.
+
+Always it had been like that, thru Peter's twenty years of life.
+Time after time he would get his feeble clutch fixed upon the ladder
+of prosperity, and then something would happen--some wretched thing
+like the stealing of a fried doughnut--to pry him loose and tumble
+him down again into the pit of misery.
+
+So Peter walked along, with his belt drawn tight, and his restless
+blue eyes wandering here and there, looking for a place to get a
+meal. There were jobs to be had, but they were hard jobs, and Peter
+wanted an easy one. There are people in this world who live by their
+muscles, and others who live by their wits; Peter belonged to the
+latter class; and had missed many a meal rather than descend in the
+social scale.
+
+Peter looked into the faces of everyone he passed, searching for a
+possible opening. Some returned his glance, but never for more than
+a second, for they saw an insignificant looking man, undersized,
+undernourished, and with one shoulder higher than the other, a weak
+chin and mouth, crooked teeth, and a brown moustache too feeble to
+hold itself up at the corners. Peters' straw hat had many straws
+missing, his second-hand brown suit was become third-hand, and his
+shoes were turning over at the sides. In a city where everybody was
+"hustling," everybody, as they phrased it, "on the make," why should
+anyone take a second glance at Peter Gudge? Why should anyone care
+about the restless soul hidden inside him, or dream that Peter was,
+in his own obscure way, a sort of genius? No one did care; no one
+did dream.
+
+It was about two o'clock of an afternoon in July, and the sun beat
+down upon the streets of American City. There were crowds upon the
+streets, and Peter noticed that everywhere were flags and bunting.
+Once or twice he heard the strains of distant music, and wondered
+what was "up." Peter had not been reading the newspapers; all his
+attention had been taken up by the quarrels of the Smithers faction
+and the Lunk faction in the First Apostolic Church, otherwise known
+as the Holy Rollers, and great events that had been happening in the
+world outside were of no concern to him. Peter knew vaguely that on
+the other side of the world half a dozen mighty nations were locked
+together in a grip of death; the whole earth was shaken with their
+struggles, and Peter had felt a bit of the trembling now and then.
+But Peter did not know that his own country had anything to do with
+this European quarrel, and did not know that certain great interests
+thruout the country had set themselves to rouse the public to
+action.
+
+This movement had reached American City, and the streets had broken
+out in a blaze of patriotic display. In all the windows of the
+stores there were signs: "Wake up, America!" Across the broad Main
+Street there were banners: "America Prepare!" Down in the square at
+one end of the street a small army was gathering--old veterans of
+the Civil War, and middle-aged veterans of the Spanish War, and
+regiments of the state militia, and brigades of marines and sailors
+from the ships in the harbor, and members of fraternal lodges with
+their Lord High Chief Grand Marshals on horseback with gold sashes
+and waving white plumes, and all the notables of the city in
+carriages, and a score of bands to stir their feet and ten thousand
+flags waving above their heads. "Wake up America!" And here was
+Peter Gudge, with an empty stomach, coming suddenly upon the
+swarming crowds in Main Street, and having no remotest idea what it
+was all about.
+
+A crowd suggested one thing to Peter. For seven years of his young
+life he had been assistant to Pericles Priam, and had traveled over
+America selling Priam's Peerless Pain Paralyzer; they had ridden in
+an automobile, and wherever there was a fair or a convention or an
+excursion or a picnic, they were on hand, and Pericles Priam would
+stop at a place where the crowds were thickest, and ring a dinner
+bell, and deliver his super-eloquent message to humanity--the elixir
+of life revealed, suffering banished from the earth, and all
+inconveniences of this mortal state brought to an end for one dollar
+per bottle of fifteen per cent opium. It had been Peter's job to
+handle the bottles and take in the coin; and so now, when he saw the
+crowd, he looked about him eagerly. Perhaps there might be here some
+vender of corn-plasters or ink-stain removers, or some three card
+monte man to whom Peter could attach himself for the price of a
+sandwich.
+
+Peter wormed his way thru the crowd for two or three blocks, but saw
+nothing more promising than venders of American flags on little
+sticks, and of patriotic buttons with "Wake up America!" But then,
+on the other side of the street at one of the crossings Peter saw a
+man standing on a truck making a speech, and he dug his way thru the
+crowd, elbowing, sliding this way and that, begging everybody's
+pardon--until at last he was out of the crowd, and standing in the
+open way which had been cleared for the procession, a seemingly
+endless road lined with solid walls of human beings, with
+blue-uniformed policemen holding them back. Peter started to run
+across--and at that same instant came the end of the world.
+
+
+
+
+Section 2
+
+
+One who seeks to tell about events in words comes occasionally upon
+a fundamental difficulty. An event of colossal and overwhelming
+significance may happen all at once, but the words which describe it
+have to come one by one in a long chain. The event may reveal itself
+without a moment's warning; but if one is to give a sense of it in
+words, one must prepare for it, build up to it, awaken anticipation,
+establish a climax. If the description of this event which fate
+sprung upon Peter Gudge as he was crossing the street were limited
+to the one word "BANG" in letters a couple of inches high across the
+page, the impression would hardly be adequate.
+
+The end of the world, it seemed to Peter, when he was able to
+collect enough of his terrified wits to think about it. But at first
+there was no thinking; there was only sensation--a terrific roar, as
+if the whole universe had suddenly turned to sound; a blinding white
+glare, as of all the lightnings of the heavens; a blow that picked
+him up as if he had been a piece of thistledown, and flung him
+across the street and against the side of a building. Peter fell
+upon the sidewalk in a heap, deafened, blinded, stunned; and there
+he lay--he had no idea how long-until gradually his senses began to
+return to him, and from the confusion certain factors began to stand
+out: a faint gray smoke that seemed to lie upon the ground, a bitter
+odor that stung the nostrils and tongue, and screams of people,
+moaning and sobbing and general uproar. Something lay across Peter's
+chest, and he felt that he was suffocating, and struggled
+convulsively to push it away; the hands with which he pushed felt
+something hot and wet and slimy, and the horrified Peter realized
+that it was half the body of a mangled human being.
+
+Yes, it was the end of the world. Only a couple of days previously
+Peter Gudge had been a devout member of the First Apostolic Church,
+otherwise known as the Holy Rollers, and had listened at
+prayer-meetings to soul-shaking imaginings out of the Book of
+Revelations. So Peter knew that this was it; and having many sins
+upon his conscience, and being in no way eager to confront his God,
+he looked out over the bodies of the dead and the writhing wounded,
+and saw a row of boxes standing against the building, having been
+placed there by people who wished to see over the heads of the
+crowd. Peter started to crawl, and found that he was able to do so,
+and wormed his way behind one of these packing-boxes, and got inside
+and lay hidden from his God.
+
+There was blood on him, and he did not know whether it was his own
+or other peoples'. He was trembling with fright, his crooked teeth
+were hammering together like those of an angry woodchuck. But the
+effects of the shock continued to pass away, and his wits to come
+back to him, and at last Peter realized that he never had taken
+seriously the ideas of the First Apostolic Church of American City.
+He listened to the moans of the wounded, and to the shouts and
+uproar of the crowd, and began seriously figuring out what could
+have happened. There had once been an earthquake in American City;
+could this be another one? Or had a volcano opened up in the midst
+of Main Street? Or could it have been a gas-main? And was this the
+end, or would it explode some more? Would the volcano go on
+erupting, and blow Peter and his frail packing-box thru the walls of
+Guggenheim's Department-store?
+
+So Peter waited, and listened to the horrible sounds of people in
+agony, and pleading with others to put them out of it. Peter heard
+voices of men giving orders, and realized that these must be
+policemen, and that no doubt there would be ambulances coming. Maybe
+there was something the matter with him, and he ought to crawl out
+and get himself taken care of. All of a sudden Peter remembered his
+stomach; and his wits, which had been sharpened by twenty years'
+struggle against a hostile world, realized in a flash the
+opportunity which fate had brought to him. He must pretend to be
+wounded, badly wounded; he must be unconscious, suffering from shock
+and shattered nerves; then they would take him to the hospital and
+put him in a soft bed and give him things to eat--maybe he might
+stay there for weeks, and they might give him money when he came
+out.
+
+Or perhaps he might get a job in the hospital, something that was
+easy, and required only alert intelligence. Perhaps the head doctor
+in the hospital might want somebody to watch the other doctors, to
+see if they were neglecting the patients, or perhaps flirting with
+some of the nurses--there was sure to be something like that going
+on. It had been that way in the orphans' home where Peter had spent
+a part of his childhood till he ran away. It had been that way again
+in the great Temple of Jimjambo, conducted by Pashtian el Kalandra,
+Chief Magistrian of Eleutherinian Exoticism. Peter had worked as
+scullion in the kitchen in that mystic institution, and had worked
+his way upward until he possessed the confidence of Tushbar Akrogas,
+major-domo and right hand man of the Prophet himself.
+
+Wherever there was a group of people, and a treasure to be
+administered, there Peter knew was backbiting and scandal and
+intriguing and spying, and a chance for somebody whose brains were
+"all there." It might seem strange that Peter should think about
+such things, just then when the earth had opened up in front of him
+and the air had turned to roaring noise and blinding white flame,
+and had hurled him against the side of a building and dropped the
+bleeding half of a woman's body across his chest; but Peter had
+lived from earliest childhood by his wits and by nothing else, and
+such a fellow has to learn to use his wits under any and all
+circumstances, no matter how bewildering. Peter's training covered
+almost every emergency one could think of; he had even at times
+occupied himself by imagining what he would do if the Holy Rollers
+should turn out to be right, and if suddenly Gabriel's trumpet were
+to blow, and he were to find himself confronting Jesus in a long
+white night-gown.
+
+
+
+
+Section 3
+
+
+Peter's imaginings were brought to an end by the packing-box being
+pulled out from the wall. "Hello!" said a voice.
+
+Peter groaned, but did not look up. The box was pulled out further,
+and a face peered in. "What you hidin' in there for?"
+
+Peter stammered feebly: "Wh-wh-what?"
+
+"You hurt?" demanded the voice.
+
+"I dunno," moaned Peter.
+
+The box was pulled out further, and its occupant slid out. Peter
+looked up, and saw three or four policemen bending over him; he
+moaned again.
+
+"How did you get in there?" asked one.
+
+"I crawled in."
+
+"What for?"
+
+"To g-g-get away from the--what was it?"
+
+"Bomb," said one of the policemen; and Peter was astounded that for
+a moment he forgot to be a nervous wreck.
+
+"Bomb!" he cried; and at the same moment one of the policemen lifted
+him to his feet.
+
+"Can you stand up?" he demanded; and Peter tried, and found that he
+could, and forgot that he couldn't. He was covered with blood and
+dirt, and was an unpresentable object, but he was really relieved to
+discover that his limbs were intact.
+
+"What's your name?" demanded one of the policemen, and when Peter
+answered, he asked, "Where do you work?"
+
+"I got no job," replied Peter.
+
+"Where'd you work last?" And then another broke in, "What did you
+crawl in there for?"
+
+"My God!" cried Peter. "I wanted to get away!"
+
+The policemen seemed to find it suspicious that he had stayed hidden
+so long. They were in a state of excitement themselves, it appeared;
+a terrible crime had been committed, and they were hunting for any
+trace of the criminal. Another man came up, not dressed in uniform,
+but evidently having authority, and he fell onto Peter, demanding to
+know who he was, and where he had come from, and what he had been
+doing in that crowd. And of course Peter had no very satisfactory
+answers to give to any of these questions. His occupations had been
+unusual, and not entirely credible, and his purposes were hard to
+explain to a suspicious questioner. The man was big and burly, at
+least a foot taller than Peter, and as he talked he stooped down and
+stared into Peter's eyes as if he were looking for dark secrets
+hidden back in the depths of Peter's skull. Peter remembered that he
+was supposed to be sick, and his eyelids drooped and he reeled
+slightly, so that the policemen had to hold him up.
+
+"I want to talk to that fellow," said the questioner. "Take him
+inside." One of the officers took Peter under one arm, and the other
+under the other arm, and they half walked and half carried him
+across the street and into a building.
+
+
+
+
+Section 4
+
+
+It was a big store which the police had opened up. Inside there were
+wounded people lying on the floor, with doctors and others attending
+them. Peter was marched down the corridor, and into a room where sat
+or stood several other men, more or less in a state of collapse like
+himself; people who had failed to satisfy the police, and were being
+held under guard.
+
+Peter's two policemen backed him against the wall and proceeded to
+go thru his pockets, producing the shameful contents--a soiled rag,
+and two cigarette butts picked up on the street, and a broken pipe,
+and a watch which had once cost a dollar, but was now out of order,
+and too badly damaged to be pawned. That was all they had any right
+to find, so far as Peter knew. But there came forth one thing
+more--the printed circular which Peter had thrust into his pocket.
+The policeman who pulled it out took a glance at it, and then cried,
+"Good God!" He stared at Peter, then he stared at the other
+policeman and handed him the paper.
+
+At that moment the man not in uniform entered the room. "Mr.
+Guffey!" cried the policeman. "See this!" The man took the paper,
+and glanced at it, and Peter, watching with bewildered and
+fascinated eyes, saw a most terrifying sight. It was as if the man
+went suddenly out of his mind. He glared at Peter, and under his
+black eyebrows the big staring eyes seemed ready to jump out of his
+head.
+
+"Aha!" he exclaimed; and then, "So I've got you!" The hand that held
+the paper was trembling, and the other hand reached out like a great
+claw, and fastened itself in the neck of Peter's coat, and drew it
+together until Peter was squeezed tight. "You threw that bomb!"
+hissed the man.
+
+"Wh-what?" gasped Peter, his voice almost fainting. "B-b-bomb?"
+
+"Out with it!" cried the man, and his face came close to Peter's,
+his teeth gleaming as if he were going to bite off Peter's nose.
+"Out with it! Quick! Who helped you?"
+
+"My G-God!" said Peter. "I d-dunno what you mean."
+
+"You dare lie to me?" roared the man; and he shook Peter as if he
+meant to jar his teeth out. "No nonsense now! Who helped you make
+that bomb?"
+
+Peter's voice rose to a scream of terror: "I never saw no bomb! I
+dunno what you're talkin' about!"
+
+"You, come this way," said the man, and started suddenly toward the
+door. It might have been more convenient if he had turned Peter
+around, and got him by the back of his coat-collar; but he
+evidently held Peter's physical being as a thing too slight for
+consideration--he just kept his grip in the bosom of Peter's jacket,
+and half lifted him and half shoved him back out of the room, and
+down a long passage to the back part of the building. And all the
+time he was hissing into Peter's face: "I'll have it out of you!
+Don't think you can lie to me! Make up your mind to it, you're going
+to come thru!"
+
+The man opened a door. It was some kind of storeroom, and he walked
+Peter inside and slammed the door behind him. "Now, out with it!" he
+said. The man thrust into his pocket the printed circular, or
+whatever it was--Peter never saw it again, and never found out what
+was printed on it. With his free hand the man grabbed one of Peter's
+hands, or rather one finger of Peter's hand, and bent it suddenly
+backward with terrible violence. "Oh!" screamed Peter. "Stop!" And
+then, with a wild shriek, "You'll break it."
+
+"I mean to break it! mean to break every bone in your body! I'll
+tear your finger-nails out; I'll tear the eyes out of your head, if
+I have to! You tell me who helped you make that bomb!"
+
+Peter broke out in a storm of agonized protest; he had never heard
+of any bomb, he didn't know what the man was talking about; he
+writhed and twisted and doubled himself over backward, trying to
+evade the frightful pain of that pressure on his finger.
+
+"You're lying!" insisted Guffey. "I know you're lying. You're one of
+that crowd."
+
+"What crowd? Ouch! I dunno what you mean!"
+
+"You're one of them Reds, aint you?"
+
+"Reds? What are Reds?"
+
+"You want to tell me you don't know what a Red is? Aint you been
+giving out them circulars on the street?"
+
+"I never seen the circular!" repeated Peter. "I never seen a word in
+it; I dunno what it is."
+
+"You try to stuff me with that?"
+
+"Some woman gimme that circular on the street! Ouch! Stop! Jesus! I
+tell you I never looked at the circular!"
+
+"You dare go on lying?" shouted the man, with fresh access of rage.
+"And when I seen you with them Reds? I know about your plots, I'm
+going to get it out of you." He grabbed Peter's wrist and began to
+twist it, and Peter half turned over in the effort to save himself,
+and shrieked again, in more piercing tones, "I dunno! I dunno!"
+
+"What's them fellows done for you that you protect them?" demanded
+the other. "What good'll it do you if we hang you and let them
+escape?"
+
+But Peter only screamed and wept the louder.
+
+"They'll have time to get out of town," persisted the other. "If you
+speak quick we can nab them all, and then I'll let you go. You
+understand, we won't do a thing to you, if you'll come thru and tell
+us who put you up to this. We know it wasn't you that planned it;
+it's the big fellows we want."
+
+He began to wheedle and coax Peter; but then, when Peter answered
+again with his provoking "I dunno," he would give another twist to
+Peter's wrist, and Peter would yell, almost incoherent with terror
+and pain--but still declaring that he could tell nothing, he knew
+nothing about any bomb.
+
+So at last Guffey wearied of this futile inquisition; or perhaps it
+occurred to him that this was too public a place for the prosecution
+of a "third degree"--there might be some one listening outside the
+door. He stopped twisting Peter's wrist, and tilted back Peter's
+head so that Peter's frightened eyes were staring into his.
+
+"Now, young fellow," he said, "look here. I got no time for you just
+now, but you're going to jail, you're my prisoner, and make up your
+mind to it, sooner or later I'm going to get it out of you. It may
+take a day, or it may take a month, but you're going to tell me
+about this bomb plot, and who printed this here circular opposed to
+Preparedness, and all about these Reds you work with. I'm telling
+you now--so you think it over; and meantime, you hold your mouth,
+don't say a word to a living soul, or if you do I'll tear your
+tongue out of your throat."
+
+Then, paying no attention to Peter's wailings, he took him by the
+back of the collar and marched him down the hall again, and turned
+him over to one of the policemen. "Take this man to the city jail,"
+he said, "and put him in the hole, and keep him there until I come,
+and don't let him speak a word to anybody. If he tries it, mash his
+mouth for him." So the policeman took poor sobbing Peter by the arm
+and marched him out of the building.
+
+
+
+
+Section 5
+
+
+The police had got the crowds driven back by now, and had ropes
+across the street to hold them, and inside the roped space were
+several ambulances and a couple of patrol-wagons. Peter was shoved
+into one of these latter, and a policeman sat by his side, and the
+bell clanged, and the patrol-wagon forced its way slowly thru the
+struggling crowd. Half an hour later they arrived at the huge stone
+jail, and Peter was marched inside. There were no formalities, they
+did not enter Peter on the books, or take his name or his finger
+prints; some higher power had spoken, and Peter's fate was already
+determined. He was taken into an elevator, and down into a basement,
+and then down a flight of stone steps into a deeper basement, and
+there was an iron door with a tiny slit an inch wide and six inches
+long near the top. This was the "hole," and the door was opened and
+Peter shoved inside into utter darkness. The door banged, and the
+bolts rattled; and then silence. Peter sank upon a cold stone floor,
+a bundle of abject and hideous misery.
+
+These events had happened with such terrifying rapidity that Peter
+Gudge had hardly time to keep track of them. But now he had plenty
+of time, he had nothing but time. He could think the whole thing
+out, and realize the ghastly trick which fate had played upon him.
+He lay there, and time passed; he had no way of measuring it, no
+idea whether it was hours or days. It was cold and clammy in the
+stone cell; they called it the "cooler," and used it to reduce the
+temperature of the violent and intractable. It was a trouble-saving
+device; they just left the man there and forgot him, and his own
+tormented mind did the rest.
+
+And surely no more tormented mind than the mind of Peter Gudge had
+ever been put in that black hole. It was the more terrible, because
+so utterly undeserved, so preposterous. For such a thing to happen
+to him, Peter Gudge, of all people--who took such pains to avoid
+discomfort in life, who was always ready to oblige anybody, to do
+anything he was told to do, so as to have'an easy time, a
+sufficiency of food, and a warm corner to crawl into! What could
+have persuaded fate to pick him for the victim of this cruel prank;
+to put him into this position, where he could not avoid suffering,
+no matter what he did? They wanted him to tell something, and Peter
+would have been perfectly willing to tell anything--but how could he
+tell it when he did not know it?
+
+The more Peter thought about it, the more outraged he became. It was
+monstrous! He sat up and glared into the black darkness. He talked
+to himself, he talked to the world outside, to the universe which
+had forgotten his existence. He stormed, he wept. He got on his feet
+and flung himself about the cell, which was six feet square, and
+barely tall enough for him to stand erect. He pounded on the door
+with his one hand which Guffey had not lamed, he kicked, and he
+shouted. But there was no answer, and so far as he could tell, there
+was no one to hear.
+
+When he had exhausted himself, he sank down, and fell into a haunted
+sleep; and then he wakened again, to a reality worse than any
+nightmare. That awful man was coming after him again! He was going
+to torture him, to make him tell what he did not know! All the ogres
+and all the demons that had ever been invented to frighten the
+imagination of children were as nothing compared to the image of the
+man called Guffey, as Peter thought of him.
+
+Several ages after Peter had been locked up, he heard sounds
+outside, and the door was opened. Peter was cowering in the corner,
+thinking that Guffey had come. There was a scraping on the floor,
+and then the door was banged again, and silence fell. Peter
+investigated and discovered that they had put in a chunk of bread
+and a pan of water.
+
+Then more ages passed, and Peter's impotent ragings were repeated;
+then once more they brought bread and water, and Peter wondered, was
+it twice a day they brought it, or was this a new day? And how long
+did they mean to keep him here? Did they mean to drive him mad? He
+asked these questions of the man who brought the bread and water,
+but the man made no answer, he never at any time spoke a word. Peter
+had no company in that "hole" but his God; and Peter was not well
+acquainted with his God, and did not enjoy a tete-a-tete with Him.
+
+What troubled Peter most was the cold; it got into his bones, and
+his teeth were chattering all the time. Despite all his moving
+about, he could not keep warm. When the man opened the door, he
+cried out to him, begging for a blanket; each time the man came,
+Peter begged more frantically than ever. He was ill, he had been
+injured in the explosion, he needed a doctor, he was going to die!
+But there was never any answer. Peter would lie there and shiver and
+weep, and writhe, and babble, and lose consciousness for a while,
+and not know whether he was awake or asleep, whether he was living
+or dead. He was becoming delirious, and the things that were
+happening to him, the people who were tormenting him, became
+monsters and fiends who carried him away upon far journeys, and
+plunged him thru abysses of terror and torment.
+
+And yet, many and strange as were the phantoms which Peter's sick
+imagination conjured up, there was no one of them as terrible as the
+reality which prevailed just then in the life of American City, and
+was determining the destiny of a poor little man by the name of
+Peter Gudge. There lived in American City a group of men who had
+taken possession of its industries and dominated the lives of its
+population. This group, intrenched in power in the city's business
+and also in its government, were facing the opposition of a new and
+rapidly rising power, that of organized labor, determined to break
+the oligarchy of business and take over its powers. The struggle of
+these two groups was coming to its culmination. They were like two
+mighty wrestlers, locked in a grip of death; two giants in combat,
+who tear up trees by the roots and break off fragments of cliffs
+from the mountains to smash in each other's skulls. And poor
+Peter--what was he? An ant which happened to come blundering across
+the ground where these combatants met. The earth was shaken with
+their trampling, the dirt was kicked this way and that, and the
+unhappy ant was knocked about, tumbled head over heels, buried in
+the debris; and suddenly--Smash!--a giant foot came down upon the
+place where he was struggling and gasping!
+
+
+
+
+Section 6
+
+
+Peter had been in the "hole" perhaps three days, perhaps a week--he
+did not know, and no one ever told him. The door was opened again,
+and for the first time he heard a voice, "Come out here."
+
+Peter had been longing to hear a voice; but now he shrunk terrified
+into a corner. The voice was the voice of Guffey, and Peter knew
+what it meant. His teeth began to rattle again, and he wailed, "I
+dunno anything! I can't tell anything!"
+
+A hand reached in and took him by the collar, and he found himself
+walking down the corridor in front of Guffey. "Shut up!" said the
+man, in answer to all his wailings, and took him into a room and
+threw him into a chair as if he had been a bundle of bedding, and
+pulled up another chair and sat down in front of Peter.
+
+"Now look here," he said. "I want to have an understanding with you.
+Do you want to go back into that hole again?"
+
+"N-n-no," moaned Peter.
+
+"Well, I want you to know that you'll spend the rest of your life in
+that hole, except when you're talking to me. And when you're talking
+to me you'll be having your arms twisted off you, and splinters
+driven into your finger nails, and your skin burned with
+matches--until you tell me what I want to know. Nobody's going to
+help you, nobody's going to know about it. You're going to stay here
+with me until you come across."
+
+Peter could only sob and moan.
+
+"Now," continued Guffey, "I been finding out all about you, I got
+your life story from the day you were born, and there's no use your
+trying to hide anything. I know your part in this here bomb plot,
+and I can send you to the gallows without any trouble whatever. But
+there's some things I can't prove on the other fellows. They're the
+big ones, the real devils, and they're the ones I want, so you've
+got a chance to save yourself, and you better be thankful for it."
+
+Peter went on moaning and sobbing.
+
+"Shut up!" cried the man. And then, fixing Peter's frightened gaze
+with his own, he continued, "Understand, you got a chance to save
+yourself. All you got to do is to tell what you know. Then you can
+come out and you won't have any more trouble. We'll take good care
+of you; everything'll be easy for you."
+
+Peter continued to gaze like a fascinated rabbit. And such a longing
+as surged up in his soul--to be free, and out of trouble, and taken
+care of! If only he had known anything to tell; if only there was
+some way he could find out something to tell!
+
+
+
+
+Section 7
+
+
+Suddenly the man reached out and grasped one of Peter's hands. He
+twisted the wrist again, the sore wrist which still ached from the
+torture. "Will you tell?"
+
+"I'd tell if I could!" screamed Peter. "My God, how can I?"
+
+"Don't lie to me," hissed the man. "I know about it now, you can't
+fool me. You know Jim Goober."
+
+"I never heard of him!" wailed Peter.
+
+"You lie!" declared the other, and he gave Peter's wrist a twist.
+
+"Yes, yes, I know him!" shrieked Peter.
+
+"Oh, that's more like it!" said the other. "Of course you know him.
+What sort of a looking man is he?"
+
+"I--I dunno. He's a big man."
+
+"You lie! You know he's a medium-sized man!"
+
+"He's a medium-sized man."
+
+"A dark man?"
+
+"Yes, a dark man."
+
+"And you know Mrs. Goober, the music teacher?"
+
+"Yes, I know her."
+
+"And you've been to her house?"
+
+
+
+"Yes, I've been to her house."
+
+"Where is their house?"
+
+"I dunno--that is--"
+
+"It's on Fourth Street?"
+
+"Yes, it's on Fourth Street."
+
+"And he hired you to carry that suit-case with the bombs in it,
+didn't he?"
+
+"Yes, he hired me."
+
+"And he told you what was in it, didn't he?"
+
+"He--he--that is--I dunno."
+
+"You don't know whether he told you?"
+
+"Y-y-yes, he told me."
+
+"You knew all about the plot, didn't you?"
+
+"Y-y-yes, I knew."
+
+"And you know Isaacs, the Jew?"
+
+"Y-y-yes, I know him."
+
+"He was the fellow that drove the jitney, wasn't he?"
+
+"Y-y-yes, he drove the jitney."
+
+"Where did he drive it?"
+
+"H-h-he drove it everywhere."
+
+"He drove it over here with the suit-case, didn't he?"
+
+"Yes, he did."
+
+"And you know Biddle, and you know what he did, don't you?"
+
+"Yes, I know."
+
+"And you're willing to tell all you know about it, are you?"
+
+"Yes, I'll tell it all. I'll tell whatever you--"
+
+"You'll tell whatever you know, will you?"
+
+"Y-y-yes, sir."
+
+"And you'll stand by it? You'll not try to back out? You don't want
+to go back into the hole?"
+
+"No, sir."
+
+And suddenly Guffey pulled from his pocket a paper folded up. It was
+several typewritten sheets. "Peter Gudge," he said, "I been looking
+up your record, and I've found out what you did in this case. You'll
+see when you read how perfectly I've got it. You won't find a single
+mistake in it." Guffey meant this for wit, but poor Peter was too
+far gone with terror to have any idea that there was such a thing as
+a smile in the world.
+
+"This is your story, d'you see?" continued Guffey. "Now take it and
+read it."
+
+So Peter took the paper in his trembling hand, the one which had not
+been twisted lame. He tried to read it, but his hand shook so that
+he had to put it on his knee, and then he discovered that his eyes
+had not yet got used to the light. He could not see the print. "I
+c-c-can't," he wailed.
+
+And the other man took the paper from him. "I'll read it to you," he
+said. "Now you listen, and put your mind on it, and make sure I've
+got it all right."
+
+And so Guffey started to read an elaborate legal document: "I, Peter
+Gudge, being duly sworn do depose and declare--" and so on. It was
+an elaborate and detailed story about a man named Jim Goober, and
+his wife and three other men, and how they had employed Peter to buy
+for them certain materials to make bombs, and how Peter had helped
+them to make the bombs in a certain room at a certain given address,
+and how they had put the bombs in a suit-case, with a time clock to
+set them off, and how Isaacs, the jitney driver, had driven them to
+a certain corner on Main Street, and how they had left the suit-case
+with the bombs on the street in front of the Preparedness Day
+parade.
+
+It was very simple and clear, and Peter, as he listened, was almost
+ready to cry with delight, realizing that this was all he had to do
+to escape from his horrible predicament. He knew now what he was
+supposed to know; and he knew it. Why had not Guffey told him long
+ago, so that he might have known it without having his fingers bent
+out of place and his wrist twisted off?
+
+"Now then," said Guffey, "that's your confession, is it?"
+
+"Y-y-yes," said Peter.
+
+"And you'll stand by it to the end?"
+
+"Y-y-yes, sir."
+
+"We can count on you now? No more nonsense?"
+
+"Y-y-yes, sir."
+
+"You swear it's all true?"
+
+"I do."
+
+"And you won't let anybody persuade you to go back on it--no matter
+what they say to you?"
+
+"N-n-no, sir," said Peter.
+
+"All right," said Guffey; and his voice showed the relief of a
+business man who has closed an important deal. He became almost
+human as lie went on. "Now, Peter," he said, "you're our man, and
+we're going to count on you. You understand, of course, that we have
+to hold you as a witness, but you're not to be a prisoner, and we're
+going to treat you well. We'll put you in the hospital part of the
+jail, and you'll have good grub and nothing to do. In a week or so,
+we'll want you to appear before the grand jury. Meantime, you
+understand--not a word to a soul! People may try to worm something
+out of you, but don't you open your mouth about this case except to
+me. I'm your boss, and I'll tell you what to do, and I'll take care
+of you all the way. You got that all straight?"
+
+"Y-y-yes, sir," said Peter.
+
+
+
+
+Section 8
+
+
+There was once, so legend declares, a darky who said that he liked
+to stub his toe because it felt so good when it stopped hurting. On
+this same principle Peter had a happy time in the hospital of the
+American City jail. He had a comfortable bed, and plenty to eat, and
+absolutely nothing to do. His sore joints became gradually healed,
+and he gained half a pound a day in weight, and his busy mind set to
+work to study the circumstances about him, to find out how he could
+perpetuate these comfortable conditions, and add to them the little
+luxuries which make life really worth living.
+
+In charge of this hospital was an old man by the name of Doobman. He
+had been appointed because he was the uncle of an alderman, and he
+had held the job for the last six years, and during that time had
+gained weight almost as rapidly as Peter was gaining. He had now
+come to a condition where he did not like to get out of his armchair
+if it could be avoided. Peter discovered this, and so found it
+possible to make himself useful in small ways. Also Mr. Doobman had
+a secret vice; he took snuff, and for the sake of discipline he did
+not want this dreadful fact to become known. Therefore he would wait
+until everybody's back was turned before he took a pinch of snuff;
+and Peter learned this, and would tactfully turn his back.
+
+Everybody in this hospital had some secret vice, and it was Mr.
+Doobman's duty to repress the vices of the others. The inmates of
+the hospital included many of the prisoners who had money, and could
+pay to make themselves comfortable. They wanted tobacco, whiskey,
+cocaine and other drugs, and some of them wanted a chance to
+practice unnamable horrors. All the money they could smuggle in they
+were ready to spend for license to indulge themselves. As for the
+attendants in the hospital, they were all political appointees,
+derelicts who had been unable to hold a job in the commercial world,
+and had sought an easy berth, like Peter himself. They took bribes,
+and were prepared to bribe Peter to outwit Mr. Doobman; Mr. Doobman,
+on the other hand, was prepared to reward Peter with many favors, if
+Peter would consent to bring him secret information. In such a
+situation it was possible for a man with his wits about him to
+accumulate quite a little capital.
+
+For the most part Peter stuck by Doobman; having learned by bitter
+experience that in the long run it pays to be honest. Doobman was
+referred to by the other attendants as the "Old Man"; and always in
+Peter's life, from the very dawn of childhood, there had been some
+such "Old Man," the fountain-head of authority, the dispenser of
+creature comforts. First had been "Old Man" Drubb, who from early
+morning until late at night wore green spectacles, and a sign across
+his chest, "I am blind," and made a weary little child lead him thru
+the streets by the hand. At night, when they got home to their
+garret-room, "Old Man" Drubb would take off his green goggles, and
+was perfectly able to see Peter, and if Peter had made the slightest
+mistake during the day he would beat him.
+
+When Drubb was arrested, Peter was taken to the orphan asylum, and
+there was another "Old Man," and the same harsh lesson of
+subservience to be learned. Peter had run away from the asylum; and
+then had come Pericles Priam with his Pain Paralyzer, and Peter had
+studied his whims and served his interests. When Pericles had
+married a rich widow and she had kicked Peter out, there had come
+the Temple of Jimjambo, where the "Old Man" had been Tushbar
+Akrogas, the major-domo--terrible when he was thwarted, but a
+generous dispenser of favors when once you had learned to flatter
+him, to play upon his weaknesses, to smooth the path of his
+pleasures. All these years Peter had been forced to "crook the
+pregnant hinges of the knee"; it had become an instinct with him--an
+instinct that went back far behind the twenty years of his conscious
+life, that went back twenty thousand years, perhaps ten times twenty
+thousand years, to a time when Peter had chipped flint spear-heads
+at the mouth of some cave, and broiled marrow-bones for some "Old
+Man" of the borde, and seen rebellious young fellows cast out to
+fall prey to the sabre-tooth tiger.
+
+
+
+
+Section 9
+
+
+Peter found that he was something of a personality in this hospital.
+He was the "star" witness in the sensational Goober case, about
+which the whole city, and in fact the whole country was talking. It
+was known that he had "turned State's"; but just what he knew and
+what he had told was a mighty secret, and Peter "held his mouth" and
+looked portentous, and enjoyed thrills of self-importance.
+
+But meantime there was no reason why he should not listen to others
+talk; no reason why he should not inform himself fully about this
+case, so that in future he might be able to take care of himself. He
+listened to what "Old Man" Doobman had to say, and to what Jan
+Christian, his Swedish assistant had to say, and to what Gerald
+Leslie, the "coke" fiend, had to say. All these, and others, had
+friends on the outside, people who were "in the know." Some told one
+thing, and others told exactly the opposite; but Peter put this and
+that together, and used his own intrigue-sharpened wits upon it, and
+before long he was satisfied that he had got the facts.
+
+Jim Goober was a prominent labor leader. He had organized the
+employees of the Traction Trust, and had called and led a tremendous
+strike. Also he had called building strikes, and some people said he
+had used dynamite upon uncompleted buildings, and made a joke of it.
+Anyhow, the business men of the city wanted to put him where he
+could no longer trouble them; and when some maniac unknown had flung
+a dynamite bomb into the path of the Preparedness parade, the big
+fellows of the city had decided that now was the opportunity they
+were seeking. Guffey, the man who had taken charge of Peter, was
+head of the secret service of the Traction Trust, and the big
+fellows had put him in complete charge. They wanted action, and
+would take no chances with the graft-ridden and incompetent police
+of the city. They had Goober in jail, with his wife and three of his
+gang, and thru the newspapers of the city they were carrying on a
+propaganda to prepare the public for the hanging of all five.
+
+And that was all right, of course; Jim Goober was only a name to
+Peter, and of less importance than a single one of Peter's meals.
+Peter understood what Guffey had done, and his only grudge was
+because Guffey had not had the sense to tell him his story at the
+beginning, instead of first nearly twisting his arm off. However,
+Peter reflected, no doubt Guffey had meant to teach him a lesson, to
+make sure of him. Peter had learned the lesson, and his purpose now
+was to make this clear to Guffey and to Doobman.
+
+"Hold your mouth," Guffey had said, and Peter never once said a word
+about the Goober case. But, of course, he talked about other
+matters. A fellow could not go around like a mummy all day long, and
+it was Peter's weakness that he liked to tell about his exploits,
+the clever devices by which he had outwitted his last "Old Man." So
+to Gerald Leslie, the "coke" fiend, he told the story of Pericles
+Priam, and how many thousands of dollars he had helped to wheedle
+out of the public, and how twice he and Pericles had been arrested
+for swindling. Also he told about the Temple of Jimjambo, and all
+the strange and incredible things that had gone on there. Pashtian
+el Kalandra, who called himself the Chief Magistrian of
+Eleutherinian Exoticism, gave himself out to his followers to be
+eighty years of age, but as a matter of fact he was less than forty.
+He was supposed to be a Persian prince, but had been born in a small
+town in Indiana, and had begun life as a grocer-boy. He was supposed
+to live upon a handful of fruit, but every day it had been Peter's
+job to assist in the preparation of a large beef-steak or a roast
+chicken. These were "for sacrificial purposes," so the prophet
+explained to his attendants; and Peter would get the remains of the
+sacrificial beef-steaks and chickens, and would sacrificially devour
+them behind the pantry door. That had been one of his private
+grafts, which he got in return for keeping secret from the prophet
+some of the stealings of Tushbar Akrogas, the major-domo.
+
+A wonderful place had been this Temple of Jimjambo. There were
+mystic altars with seven veils before them, and thru these the Chief
+Magistrian would appear, clad in a long cream-colored robe with gold
+and purple borders, and with pink embroidered slippers and symbolic
+head-dress. His lectures and religious rites had been attended by
+hundreds--many of them rich society women, who came rolling up to
+the temple in their limousines. Also there had been a school, where
+children had been initiated into the mystic rites of the cult. The
+prophet would take these children into his private apartments, and
+there were awful rumors--which had ended in the raiding of the
+temple by the police, and the flight of the prophet, and likewise of
+the majordomo, and of Peter Gudge, his scullion and confederate.
+
+Also, Peter thought it was fun to tell Gerald Leslie about his
+adventures with the Holy Rollers, into whose church he had drifted
+during his search for a job. Peter had taken up with this sect, and
+learned the art of "talking in tongues," and how to fall over the
+back of your chair in convulsions of celestial glory. Peter had
+gained the confidence of the Rev. Gamaliel Lunk, and had been
+secretly employed by him to carry on a propaganda among the
+congregation to obtain a raise in salary for the underpaid
+convulsionist. But certain things which Peter had learned had caused
+him to go over to the faction of Shoemaker Smithers, who was trying
+to persuade the congregation that he could roll harder and faster
+than the Rev. Gamaliel. Peter had only held this latter job a few
+days before he had been fired for stealing the fried doughnut.
+
+
+
+
+Section 10
+
+
+All these things and more Peter told; thinking that he was safe now,
+under the protection of authority. But after he had spent about two
+months in the hospital, he was summoned one day into the office, and
+there stood Guffey, glowering at him in a black fury. "You damned
+fool!" were Guffey's first words.
+
+Peter's knees went weak and his teeth began to chatter again.
+"Wh-wh-what?" he cried.
+
+"Didn't I tell you to hold your mouth?" And Guffey looked as if he
+were going to twist Peter's wrist again.
+
+"Mr. Guffey, I ain't told a soul! I ain't said one word about the
+Goober case, not one word!"
+
+Peter rushed on, pouring out protests. But Guffey cut him short.
+"Shut up, you nut! Maybe you didn't talk about the Goober case, but
+you talked about yourself. Didn't you tell somebody you'd worked
+with that fellow Kalandra?"
+
+"Y-y-yes, sir."
+
+"And you knew the police were after him, and after you, too?"
+
+"Y-y-yes, sir."
+
+"And you said you'd been arrested selling fake patent medicines?"
+
+"Y-y-yes, sir."
+
+"Christ almighty!" cried Guffey. "And what kind of a witness do you
+think you'll make?"
+
+"But," cried Peter in despair, "I didn't tell anybody that would
+matter. I only--"
+
+"What do you know what would matter?" roared the detective, adding
+a stream of furious oaths. "The Goober people have got spies on us;
+they've got somebody right here in this jail. Anyhow, they've found
+out about you and your record. You've gone and ruined us with your
+blabbing mouth!"
+
+"My Lord!" whispered Peter, his voice dying away.
+
+"Look at yourself on a witness-stand! Look at what they'll do to you
+before a jury! Traveling over the country, swindling people with
+patent medicines--and getting in jail for it! Working for that
+hell-blasted scoundrel Kalandra--" and Guffey added some dreadful
+words, descriptive of the loathsome vices of which the Chief
+Magistrian had been accused. "And you mixed up in that kind of
+thing!"
+
+"I never done anything like that!" cried Peter wildly. "I didn't
+even know for sure."
+
+"Tell that to the jury!" sneered Guffey. "Why, they've even been to
+that Shoemaker Smithers, and they'll put his wife on the stand to
+prove you a sneak thief, and tell how she kicked you out. And all
+because you couldn't hold your mouth as I told you to!"
+
+Peter burst into tears. He fell down on his knees, pleading that he
+hadn't meant any harm; he hadn't had any idea that he was not
+supposed to talk about his past life; he hadn't realized what a
+witness was, or what he was supposed to do. All he had been told was
+to keep quiet about the Goober case, and he had kept quiet. So Peter
+sobbed and pleaded--but in vain. Guffey ordered him back to the
+hole, declaring his intention to prove that Peter was the one who
+had thrown the bomb, and that Peter, instead of Jim Goober, had been
+the head and front of the conspiracy. Hadn't Peter signed a
+confession that he had helped to make the bomb?
+
+
+
+
+Section 11
+
+
+Again Peter did not know how long he lay shivering in the black
+dungeon. He only knew that they brought him bread and water three
+times, before Guffey came again and summoned him forth. Peter now
+sat huddled into a chair, twisting his trembling hands together,
+while the chief detective of the Traction Trust explained to him his
+new program. Peter was permanently ruined as a witness in the case.
+The labor conspirators had raised huge sums for their defense; they
+had all the labor unions of the city, and in fact of the entire
+country behind them, and they were hiring spies and informers, and
+trying to find out all they could about the prosecution, the
+evidence it had collected and the moves it was preparing. Guffey did
+not say that he had been afraid to kick Peter out because of the
+possibility that Peter might go over to the Goober side and tell all
+he knew; but Peter guessed this while he sat listening to Guffey's
+explanation, and realized with a thrill of excitement that at last
+he had really got a hold upon the ladder of prosperity. Not in vain
+had his finger been almost broken and his wrist almost dislocated!
+
+"Now," said Guffey, "here's my idea: As a witness you're on the bum,
+but as a spy, you're it. They know that you blabbed, and that I know
+it; they know I've had you in the hole. So now what I want to do is
+to make a martyr of you. D'you see?"
+
+Peter nodded; yes, he saw. It was his specialty, seeing things like
+that.
+
+"You're an honest witness, you understand? I tried to get you to
+lie, and you wouldn't, so now you go over to the other side, and
+they take you in, and you find out all you can, and from time to
+time you meet somebody as I'll arrange it, and send me word what
+you've learned. You get me?"
+
+"I get you," said Peter, eagerly. No words could portray his relief.
+He had a real job now! He was going to be a sleuth, like Guffey
+himself.
+
+"Now," said Guffey, "the first thing I want to know is, who's
+blabbing in this jail; we can't do anything but they get tipped off.
+I've got witnesses that I want kept hidden, and I don't dare put
+them here for fear of the Goober crowd. I want to know who are the
+traitors. I want to know a lot of things that I'll tell you from
+time to time. I want you to get next to these Reds, and learn about
+their ideas, so you can talk their lingo.
+
+"Sure," said Peter. He could not help smiling a little. He was
+supposed to be a "Red" already, to have been one of their leading
+conspirators. But Guffey had abandoned that pretence--or perhaps had
+forgotten about it!
+
+It was really an easy job that Peter had set before him. He did not
+have to pretend to be anything different from what he was. He would
+call himself a victim of circumstances, and would be honestly
+indignant against those who had sought to use him in a frame-up
+against Jim Goober. The rest would follow naturally. He would get
+the confidence of the labor people, and Guffey would tell him what
+to do next.
+
+"We'll put you in one of the cells of this jail," said the chief
+detective, "and we'll pretend to give you a `third degree.' You'll
+holler and make a fuss, and say you won't tell, and finally we'll
+give up and kick you out. And then all you have to do is just hang
+around. They'll come after you, or I miss my guess."
+
+So the little comedy was arranged and played thru. Guffey took Peter
+by the collar and led him out into the main part of the jail, and
+locked him in one of a row of open cells. He grabbed Peter by the
+wrist and pretended to twist it, and Peter pretended to protest. He
+did not have to draw on his imagination; he knew how it felt, and
+how he was supposed to act, and he acted. He sobbed and screamed,
+and again and again he vowed that he had told the truth, that he
+knew nothing else than what he had told, and that nothing could make
+him tell any more. Guffey left him there until late the next
+afternoon, and then came again, and took him by the collar, and led
+him out to the steps of the jail, and gave him a parting kick.
+
+Peter was free! What a wonderful sensation--freedom! God! Had there
+ever been anything like it? He wanted to shout and howl with joy.
+But instead he staggered along the street, and sank down upon a
+stone coping, sobbing, with his head clasped in his hands, waiting
+for something to happen. And sure enough, it happened. Perhaps an
+hour passed, when he was touched lightly on the shoulder. "Comrade,"
+said a soft voice, and Peter, looking between his fingers, saw the
+skirts of a girl. A folded slip of paper was pressed into his hand
+and the soft voice said: "Come to this address." The girl walked on,
+and Peter's heart leaped with excitement. Peter was a sleuth at
+last!
+
+
+
+
+Section 12
+
+
+Peter waited until after dark, in order to indulge his sense of the
+romantic; also he flattered his self-importance by looking carefully
+about him as he walked down the street. He did not know just who
+would be shadowing him, but Peter wanted to be sleuthy.
+
+Also he had a bit of genuine anxiety. He had told the truth when he
+said to Guffey that he didn't know what a "Red" was; but since then
+he had been making in quiries, and now he knew. A "Red" was a fellow
+who sympathized with labor unions and with strikes; who wanted to
+murder the rich and divide their property, and believed that the
+quickest way to do the dividing was by means of dynamite. All "Reds"
+made bombs, and carried concealed weapons, and perhaps secret
+poisons--who could tell? And now Peter was going among them, he was
+going to become one of them! It was almost too interesting, for a
+fellow who aimed above everything to be comfortable. Something in
+him whispered, "Why not skip; get out of town and be done with it?"
+But then he thought of the rewards and honors that Guffey had
+promised him. Also there was the spirit of curiosity; he might skip
+at any time, but first he would like to know a bit more about being
+a "dick."
+
+He came to the number which had been given him, a tiny bungalow in a
+poor neighborhood, and rang the doorbell. It was answered by a girl,
+and at a glance Peter saw that it was the girl who had spoken to
+him. She did not wait for him to announce himself, but cried
+impulsively, "Mr. Gudge! Oh, I'm so glad you've come!" She added,
+"Comrade!"--just as if Peter were a well-known friend. And then,
+"But _are_ you a comrade?"
+
+"How do you mean?" asked Peter.
+
+"You're not a Socialist? Well, we'll make one of you." She brought
+him in and showed him to a chair, saying, "I know what they did to
+you; and you stood out against them! Oh, you were wonderful!
+Wonderful!"
+
+Peter was at a loss what to say. There was in this girl's voice a
+note of affection, as well as of admiration; and Peter in his hard
+life had had little experience with emotions of this sort. Peter had
+watched the gushings and excitements of girls who were seeking
+flirtations; but this girl's attitude he felt at once was not
+flirtatious. Her voice tho soft, was just a trifle too solemn for a
+young girl; her deep-set, wistful grey eyes rested on Peter with the
+solicitude of a mother whose child has just escaped a danger.
+
+She called: "Sadie, here's Mr. Gudge." And there entered another
+girl, older, taller, but thin and pale like her sister. Jennie and
+Sadie Todd were their names, Peter learned; the older was a
+stenographer, and supported the family. The two girls were in a
+state of intense concern. They started to question Peter about his
+experiences, but he had only talked for a minute or two before the
+elder went to the telephone. There were various people who must see
+Peter at once, important people who were to be notified as soon as
+he turned up. She spent some time at the phone, and the people she
+talked with must have phoned to others, because for the next hour or
+two there was a constant stream of visitors coming in, and Peter had
+to tell his story over and over again.
+
+The first to come was a giant of a man with tight-set mouth and so
+powerful a voice that it frightened Peter. He was not surprised to
+learn that this man was the leader of one of the most radical of the
+city's big labor unions, the seamen's. Yes, he was a "Red," all
+right; he corresponded to Peter's imaginings--a grim, dangerous man,
+to be pictured like Samson, seizing the pillars of society and
+pulling them down upon his head. "They've got you scared, my boy,"
+he said, noting Peter's hesitating answers to his questions. "Well,
+they've had me scared for forty-five years, but I've never let them
+know it yet." Then, in order to cheer Peter up and strengthen his
+nerves, he told how he, a runaway seaman, had been hunted thru the
+Everglades of Florida with bloodhounds, and tied to a tree and
+beaten into insensibility.
+
+Then came David Andrews, whom Peter had heard of as one of the
+lawyers in the Goober case, a tall, distinguished-looking man with
+keen, alert features. What was such a man doing among these
+outcasts? Peter decided that he must be one of the shrewd ones who
+made money out of inciting the discontented. Then came a young girl,
+frail and sensitive, slightly crippled. As she crossed the room to
+shake his hand tears rolled down her cheeks, and Peter stood
+embarrassed, wondering if she had just lost a near relative, and
+what was he to say about it. From her first words he gathered, to
+his great consternation, that she had been moved to tears by the
+story of what he himself had endured.
+
+Ada Ruth was a poet, and this was a new type for Peter; after much
+groping in his mind he set her down for one of the dupes of the
+movement--a poor little sentimental child, with no idea of the
+wickedness by which she was surrounded. With her came a Quaker boy
+with pale, ascetic face and black locks which he had to shake back
+from his eyes every now and then; he wore a Windsor tie, and a black
+felt hat, and other marks of eccentricity and from his speeches
+Peter gathered that he was ready to blow up all the governments of
+the world in the interests of Pacificism. The same was true of
+McCormick, an I. W. W. leader who had just served sixty days in
+jail, a silent young Irishman with drawn lips and restless black
+eyes, who made Peter uneasy by watching him closely and saying
+scarcely a word.
+
+
+
+
+Section 13
+
+
+They continued to come, one at a time or in groups; old women and
+young women, old men and young men, fanatics and dreamers, agitators
+who could hardly open their mouths without some white-hot words
+escaping, revealing a blaze of passion smouldering in the deeps of
+them. Peter became more and more uneasy, realizing that he was
+actually in the midst of all the most dangerous "Reds" of American
+City. They it was whom our law-abiding citizens dreaded, who were
+the objects of more concern to the police than all the plain,
+everyday burglars and bandits. Peter now could see the reason--he
+had not dreamed that such angry and hate-tormented people existed in
+the world. Such people would be capable of anything! He sat, with
+his restless eyes wandering from one face to another. Which one of
+this crowd had helped to set off the bomb? And would they boast
+about it to him this evening?
+
+Peter half expected this; but then again, he wondered. They were
+such strange criminals! They called him "Comrade"; and they spoke
+with that same affection that had so bewildered him in little
+Jennie. Was this just a ruse to get his confidence, or did these
+people really think that they loved him--Peter Gudge, a stranger and
+a secret enemy? Peter had been at great pains to fool them; but they
+seemed to him so easy to fool that his pains were wasted. He
+despised them for this, and all the while he listened to them he was
+saying to himself, "The poor nuts!"
+
+They had come to hear his story, and they plied him with questions,
+and made him tell over and over again every detail. Peter, of
+course, had been carefully instructed; he was not to mention the
+elaborate confession he had been made to sign; that would be giving
+too dangerous a weapon to these enemies of law and order. He must
+tell as brief a story as possible; how he had happened to be near
+the scene of the explosion, and how the police had tried to force
+him to admit that he knew something about the case. Peter told this,
+according to orders; but he had not been prepared for the minute
+questioning to which he was subjected by Andrews, the lawyer, aided
+by old John Durand, the leader of the seamen. They wanted to know
+everything that had been done to him, and who had done it, and how
+and when and where and why. Peter had a sense of the dramatic, and
+enjoyed being the center of attention and admiration, even tho it
+was from a roomful of criminal "Reds." So he told all the
+picturesque details of how Guffey had twisted his wrist and shut him
+in a dungeon; the memory of the pain was still poignant, and came
+out of him now, with a realism that would have moved a colder group.
+
+So pretty soon here were all these women sobbing and raging. Little
+Ada Ruth became inspired, and began reciting a poem--or was she
+composing it right here, before his eyes? She seemed entranced with
+indignation. It was something about the workers arising--the outcry
+of a mob--
+
+     "No further patience with a heedless foe--
+     Get off our backs, or else to hell you go!"
+
+Peter listened, and thought to himself, "The poor nut!" And then
+Donald Gordon, the Quaker boy, took the floor, and began shaking his
+long black locks, and composing a speech, it seemed. And Peter
+listened, and thought again, "The poor nut!" Then another man, the
+editor of a labor journal, revealed the fact that he was composing
+an editorial; he knew Guffey, and was going to publish Guffey's
+picture, and brand him as an "Inquisitionist." He asked for Peter's
+picture, and Peter agreed to have one taken, and to be headlined as
+"The Inquisitionist's Victim." Peter had no idea what the long word
+meant; but he assented, and thought again, "The poor nut!" All of
+them were "nuts"--taking other people's troubles with such
+excitement!
+
+But Peter was frightened, too; he couldn't altogether enjoy being a
+hero, in this vivid and startling fashion; having his name and fame
+spread from one end of the country to the other, so that organized
+labor might know the methods which the great traction interests of
+American City were employing to send a well-known labor leader to
+the gallows! The thing seemed to grow and grow before Peter's
+frightened eyes. Peter, the ant, felt the earth shaking, and got a
+sudden sense of the mountain size of the mighty giants who were
+stamping in combat over his head. Peter wondered, had Guffey
+realized what a stir his story would make, what a powerful weapon he
+was giving to his enemies? What could Guffey expect to get from
+Peter, to compensate for this damage to his own case? Peter, as he
+listened to the stormy oratory in the crowded little room, found
+himself thinking again and again of running away. He had never seen
+anything like the rage into which these people worked themselves,
+the terrible things they said, the denunciations, not merely of the
+police of American City, but of the courts and the newspapers, the
+churches and the colleges, everything that seemed respectable and
+sacred to law-abiding citizens like Peter Gudge.
+
+Peter's fright became apparent. But why shouldn't he be frightened?
+Andrews, the lawyer, offered to take him away and hide him, lest the
+opposition should try to make way with him. Peter would be a most
+important witness for the Goober defense, and they must take good
+care of him. But Peter recovered his self-possession, and took up
+his noble role. No, he would take his chances with the rest of them,
+he was not too much afraid.
+
+Sadie Todd, the stenographer, rewarded him for his heroism. They had
+a spare bedroom in their little home, and if Peter cared to stay
+with them for a while, they would try to make him comfortable. Peter
+accepted this invitation, and at a late hour in the evening the
+gathering broke up. The various groups of "Reds" went their way,
+their hands clenched and their faces portraying a grim resolve to
+make out of Peter's story a means of lashing discontented labor to
+new frenzies of excitement. The men clasped Peter's hand cordially;
+the ladies gazed at him with soulful eyes, and whispered their
+admiration for his brave course, their hope, indeed their
+conviction, that he would stand by the truth to the end, and would
+study their ideas and join their "movement." All the while Peter
+watched them, and continued saying to himself: "The poor nuts!"
+
+
+
+
+Section 14
+
+
+The respectable newspapers of American City of course did not waste
+their space upon fantastic accusations brought by radicals, charging
+the police authorities with using torture upon witnesses. But there
+was a Socialist paper published every week in American City, and
+this paper had a long account of Peter's experiences on the front
+page, together with his picture. Also there were three labor papers
+which carried the story, and the Goober Defense Committee prepared a
+circular about it and mailed out thousands of copies all over the
+country. This circular was written by Donald Gordon, the Quaker boy.
+He brought Peter a proof of it, to make sure that he had got all the
+details right, and Peter read it, and really could not help being
+thrilled to discover what a hero he was. Peter had not said anything
+about his early career, and whoever among the Goober Defense
+Committee had learned those details chose to be diplomatically
+silent. Peter smiled to himself as he thought about that. They were
+foxy, these people! They were playing their hand for all it was
+worth--and Peter admired them for that. In Donald Gordon's narrative
+Peter appeared as a poor workingman; and Peter grinned. He was used
+to the word "working," but when he talked about "working people," he
+meant something different from what these Socialists meant.
+
+The story went out, and of course all sorts of people wanted to meet
+Peter, and came to the home of the Todd girls. So Peter settled down
+to his job of finding out all he could about these visitors, their
+names and occupations, their relations to the radical movement.
+Guffey had advised him not to make notes, for fear of detection, but
+Peter could not carry all this in his head, so he would retire to
+his room and make minute notes on slips of paper, and carefully sew
+these up in the lining of his coat, with a thrill of mystery.
+
+Except for this note-taking, however, Peter's sleuthing was easy
+work, for these people all seemed eager to talk about what they were
+doing; sometimes it frightened Peter--they were so open and defiant!
+Not merely did they express their ideas to one another and to him,
+they were expressing them on public platforms, and in their
+publications, in pamphlets and in leaflets--what they called
+"literature." Peter had had no idea their "movement" was so
+widespread or so powerful. He had expected to unearth a secret
+conspiracy, and perhaps a dynamite-bomb or two; instead of which,
+apparently, he was unearthing a volcano!
+
+However, Peter did the best he could. He got the names and details
+about some forty or fifty people of all classes; obscure workingmen
+and women, Jewish tailors, Russian and Italian cigar-workers,
+American-born machinists and printers; also some "parlor
+Reds"--large, immaculate and shining ladies who came rolling up to
+the little bungalow in large, immaculate and shining automobiles,
+and left their uniformed chauffeurs outside for hours at a time
+while they listened to Peter's story of his "third degree." One
+benevolent lady with a flowing gray veil, who wafted a sweet perfume
+about the room, suggested that Peter might be in need, and pressed a
+twenty dollar bill into his hand. Peter, thrilled, but also
+bewildered, got a new sense of the wonders of this thing called "the
+movement," and decided that when Guffey got thru with him he might
+turn into a "Red" in earnest for a while.
+
+Meantime he settled down to make himself comfortable with the Todd
+sisters. Sadie went off to her work before eight o'clock every
+morning, and that was before Peter got up; but Jennie stayed at
+home, and fixed his breakfast, and opened the door for his visitors,
+and in general played the hostess for him. She was a confirmed
+invalid; twice a week she went off to a doctor to have something
+done to her spine, and the balance of the time she was supposed to
+be resting, but Peter very seldom saw her doing this. She was always
+addressing circulars, or writing letters for the "cause," or going
+off to sell literature and take up collections at meetings. When she
+was not so employed, she was arguing with somebody--frequently with
+Peter--trying to make him think as she did.
+
+Poor kid, she was all wrought up over the notions she had got about
+the wrongs of the working classes. She gave herself no peace about
+it, day or night, and this, of course, was a bore to Peter, who
+wanted peace above all things. Over in Europe millions of men were
+organized in armies, engaged in slaughtering one another. That, of
+course, was, very terrible, but what was the good of thinking about
+it? There was no way to stop it, and it certainly wasn't Peter's
+fault. But this poor, deluded child was acting all the time as if
+she were to blame for this European conflict, and had the job of
+bringing it to a close. The tears would come into her deep-set grey
+eyes, and her soft chin would quiver with pain whenever she talked
+about it; and it seemed to Peter she was talking about it all the
+time. It was her idea that the war must be stopped by uprisings on
+the part of the working people in Europe. Apparently she thought
+this might be hastened if the working people of American City would
+rise up and set an example!
+
+
+
+
+Section 15
+
+
+Jennie talked about this plan quite openly; she would put a red
+ribbon in her hair, and pin a red badge on her bosom, and go into
+meeting-places and sell little pamphlets with red covers. So, of
+course, it would be Peter's duty to report her to the head of the
+secret service of the Traction Trust. Peter regretted this, and was
+ashamed of having to do it; she was a nice little girl, and pretty,
+too, and a fellow might have had some fun with her if she had not
+been in such a hysterical state. He would sit and look at her, as
+she sat bent over her typewriter. She had soft, fluffy hair, the
+color of twilight, and even white teeth, and a faint flush that came
+and went in her cheeks--yes, she would not be bad looking at all, if
+only she would straighten up, and spend a little time on her looks,
+as other girls did.
+
+But no, she was always in a tension, and the devil of it was, she
+was trying to get Peter into the same state. She was absolutely
+determined that Peter must get wrought up over the wrongs of the
+working classes. She took it for granted that he would, when he was
+instructed. She would tell him harrowing stories, and it was his
+duty to be duly harrowed; he must be continually acting an emotional
+part. She would give him some of her "literature" to read, and then
+she would pin him down and make sure that he had read it. He knew
+how to read--Pericles Priam had seen to that, because he wanted him
+to attend to the printing of his circulars and his advertisements in
+the country newspapers where he was traveling. So now Peter was
+penned in a corner and compelled to fix his attention upon "The A.
+B. C. of Socialism," or "Capital and Proletariat," or "The Path to
+Power."
+
+Peter told himself that it was part of his job to acquire this
+information. He was going to be a "Red," and he must learn their
+lingo; but he found it awfully tiresome, full of long technical
+words which he had never heard before. Why couldn't these fellows at
+least talk American? He had known that there were Socialists, and
+also "Arnychists," as he called them, and he thought they were all
+alike. But now he learned, not merely about Socialists and
+"Arnychists," but about State Socialists and Communist Anarchists,
+and Communist Syndicalists and Syndicalist Anarchists and Socialist
+Syndicalists, and Reformist Socialists and Guild Socialists, to say
+nothing about Single Taxers and Liberals and Progressives and
+numerous other varieties, whom he had to meet and classify and
+listen to respectfully and sympathetically. Each particular group
+insisted upon the distinctions which made it different, and each
+insisted that it had the really, truly truth; and Peter became
+desperately bored with their everlasting talk--how much more simple
+to lump them all together, as did Guffey and McGivney, calling them
+all "Reds!"
+
+Peter had got it clearly fixed in his mind that what these "Reds"
+wanted was to divide up the property of the rich. Everyone he had
+questioned about them had said this. But now he learned that this
+wasn't it exactly. What they wanted was to have the State take over
+the industries, or to have the labor unions do it, or to have the
+working people in general do it. They pointed to the post office and
+the army and the navy, as examples of how the State could run
+things. Wasn't that all right? demanded Jennie. And Peter said Yes,
+that was all right; but hidden back in Peter's soul all the time was
+a whisper that it wouldn't make a damn bit of difference. There was
+a sucker born every minute, and you might be sure that no matter how
+they fixed it up, there would always be some that would find it easy
+to live off the rest. This poor kid, for example, who was ready to
+throw herself away for any fool notion, or for anybody that came
+along and told her a hard-luck story--would there ever be a state of
+society in which she wouldn't be a juicy morsel to be gobbled up by
+some fellow with a normal appetite?
+
+She was alone in the house all day with Peter, and she got to seem
+more and more pretty as he got to know her better. Also it was
+evident that she liked Peter more and more as Peter played his game.
+Peter revealed himself as deeply sympathetic, and a quick convert to
+the cause; he saw everything that Jennie explained to him, he was
+horrified at the horrible stories, he was ready to help her end the
+European war by starting a revolution among the working people of
+American City. Also, he told her about himself, and awakened her
+sympathy for his harsh life, his twenty years of privation and
+servitude; and when she wept over this, Peter liked it. It was fine,
+somehow, to have her so sorry for him; it helped to compensate him
+for the boredom of hearing her be sorry for the whole working class.
+
+Peter didn't know whether Jennie had learned about his bad record,
+but he took no chances--he told her everything, and thus took the
+sting out of it. Yes, he had been trapped into evil ways, but it
+wasn't his fault, he hadn't known any better, he had been a pitiful
+victim of circumstances. He told how he had been starved and driven
+about and beaten by "Old Man" Drubb, and the tears glistened in
+Jennie's grey eyes and stole down her cheeks. He told about
+loneliness and heartsickness and misery in the orphan asylum. And
+how could he, poor lad, realize that it was wrong to help Pericles
+Priam sell his Peerless Pain Paralyzer? How could he know whether
+the medicine was any good or not--he didn't even know now, as a
+matter of fact. As for the Temple of Jimjambo, all that Peter had
+done was to wash dishes and work as a kitchen slave, as in any hotel
+or restaurant.
+
+It was a story easy to fix up, and especially easy because the first
+article in the creed of Socialist Jennie was that economic
+circumstances were to blame for human frailties. That opened the
+door for all varieties of grafters, and made the child such an easy
+mark that Peter would have been ashamed to make a victim of her, had
+it not been that she happened to stand in the path of his higher
+purposes--and also that she happened to be young, only seventeen,
+with tender grey eyes, and tempting, sweet lips, alone there in the
+house all day.
+
+
+
+
+Section 16
+
+
+Peter's adventures in love had so far been pretty much of a piece
+with the rest of his life experiences; there had been hopes, and
+wonderful dreams, but very few realizations. Peter knew a lot about
+such matters; in the orphan asylum there were few vicious practices
+which he did not witness, few obscene imaginings with which he was
+not made familiar. Also, Pericles Priam had been a man like the
+traditional sailor, with a girl in every port; and generally in
+these towns and villages there had been no place for Peter to go
+save where Pericles went, so Peter had been the witness of many of
+his master's amours and the recipient of his confidences. But none
+of these girls and women had paid any attention to Peter. Peter was
+only a "kid"; and when he grew up and was no longer a kid, but a
+youth tormented with sharp desires, they still paid no attention to
+him--why should they? Peter was nothing; he had no position, no
+money, no charms; he was frail and undersized, his teeth were
+crooked, and one shoulder higher than the other. What could he
+expect from women and girls but laughter and rebuffs?
+
+Then Peter moved on to the Temple of Jimjambo, and there a
+devastating experience befell him--he tumbled head over heels and
+agonizingly in love. There was a chambermaid in the institution, a
+radiant creature from the Emerald Isles with hair like sunrise and
+cheeks like apples, and a laugh that shook the dish-pans on the
+kitchen walls. She laughed at Peter, she laughed at the major-domo,
+she laughed at all the men in the place who tried to catch her round
+the waist. Once or twice a month perhaps she would let them succeed,
+just to keep them interested, and to keep herself in practice.
+
+The only one she really favored was the laundry deliveryman, and
+Peter soon realized why. This laundry fellow had the use of an
+automobile on Sundays, and Nell would dress herself up to kill, and
+roll away in state with him. He would spend all his week's earnings
+entertaining her at the beach; Peter knew, because she would tell
+the whole establishment on Monday morning. "Gee, but I had a swell
+time!" she would say; and would count the ice-creams and the
+merry-go-rounds and the whirly-gigs and all the whang-doodle things.
+She would tell about the tattooed men and the five-legged calf and
+the woman who was half man, and all the while she would make the
+dishpans rattle.
+
+Yes, she was a marvelous creature, and Peter suddenly realized that
+his ultimate desire in life was to possess a "swell lady-friend"
+like Nell. He realized that there was one essential prerequisite,
+and that was money. None of them would look at you without money.
+Nell had gone out with him only once, and that was upon the savings
+of six months, and Peter had not been able to conceal the effort it
+cost him to spend it all. So he had been set down as a "tight-wad,"
+and had made no headway.
+
+Nell had disappeared, along with everybody else when the police
+raided the Temple. Peter never knew what had become of her, but the
+old longings still haunted him, and he would find himself
+imagining--suppose the police had got her; suppose she were in jail,
+and he with his new "pull" were able to get her out, and carry her
+away and keep her hid from the laundry man!
+
+These were dreams; but meantime here was reality, here was a new
+world. Peter had settled down in the home of the Todd sisters; and
+what was their attitude toward these awful mysteries of love?
+
+
+
+
+Section 17
+
+
+It had been arranged with Guffey that at the end of a week Peter was
+to have a secret meeting with one of the chief detective's men. So
+Peter told the girls that he was tired of being a prisoner in the
+house and must get some fresh air.
+
+"Oh please, Mr. Gudge, don't take such a chance!" cried Sadie, her
+thin, anxious face suddenly growing more anxious and thin. "Don't
+you know this house is being watched? They are just hoping to catch
+you out alone. It would be the last of you."
+
+"I'm not so important as that," said Peter; but she insisted that he
+was, and Peter was pleased, in spite of his boredom, he liked to
+hear her insist upon his importance.
+
+"Oh!" she cried. "Don't you know yet how much depends on you as a
+witness for the Goober defense? This case is of concern to millions
+of people all over the world! It is a test case, Mr. Gudge--are they
+to be allowed to murder the leaders of the working class without a
+struggle? No, we must show them that there is a great movement, a
+world-wide awakening of the workers, a struggle for freedom for the
+wage slaves--"
+
+But Peter could stand no more of this. "All right," he said,
+suddenly interrupting Sadie's eloquence. "I suppose it's my duty to
+stay, even if I die of consumption, being shut up without any fresh
+air." He would play the martyr; which was not so hard, for he was
+one, and looked like one, with his thin, one-sided little figure,
+and his shabby clothes. Both Sadie and Jennie gazed at him with
+admiration, and sighed with relief.
+
+But later on, Peter thought of an idea. He could go out at night, he
+told Sadie, and slip out the back way, so that no one would see him;
+he would not go into crowds or brightly lighted streets, so there
+would be no chance of his being recognized. There was a fellow he
+absolutely had to see, who owed him some money; it was way over on
+the other side of the city--that was why he rejected Jennie's offer
+to accompany him.
+
+So that evening Peter climbed a back fence and stole thru a
+neighbor's chicken-yard and got away. He had a fine time ducking and
+dodging in the crowds, making sure that no one was trailing him to
+his secret rendezvous--no "Red" who might chance to be suspicious of
+his "comradeship." It was in the "American House," an obscure hotel,
+and Peter was to take the elevator to the fourth floor, without
+speaking to any one, and to tap three times on the door of Room 427.
+Peter did so, and the door opened, and he slipped in, and there he
+met Jerry McGivney, with the face of a rat.
+
+"Well, what have you got?" demanded McGivney; and Peter sat down
+and started to tell. With eager fingers he undid the amateur sewing
+in the lining of his coat, and pulled out his notes with the names
+and descriptions of people who had come to see him.
+
+McGivney glanced over them quickly. "Jesus!" he said, "What's the
+good of all this?"
+
+"Well, but they're Reds!" exclaimed Peter.
+
+"I know," said the other, "but what of that? We can go hear them
+spout at meetings any night. We got membership lists of these
+different organizations. But what about the Goober case?"
+
+"Well," said Peter, "they're agitating about it all the time;
+they've been printing stuff about me."
+
+"Sure, we know that," said McGivney. "And the hell of a fine story
+you gave them; you must have enjoyed hearing yourself talk. But what
+good does that do us?"
+
+"But what do you want to know?" cried Peter, in dismay.
+
+"We want to know their secret plans," said the other. "We want to
+know what they're doing to get our witnesses; we want to know who it
+is that is selling us out, who's the spy in the jail. Didn't you
+find that out?"
+
+"N-no," said Peter. "Nobody said anything about it."
+
+"Good God!" said the detective. "D'you expect them to bring you
+things on a silver tray?" He began turning over Peter's notes
+again, and finally threw them on the bed in disgust. He began
+questioning Peter, and Peter's dismay turned to despair. He had not
+got a single thing that McGivney wanted. His whole week of
+"sleuthing" had been wasted!
+
+The detective did not mince words. "It's plain that you're a boob,"
+he said. "But such as you are, we've got to do the best we can with
+you. Now, put your mind on it and get it straight: we know who these
+Reds are, and we know what they're teaching; we can't send 'em to
+jail for that. What we want you to find out is the name of their
+spy, and who are their witnesses in the Goober case, and what
+they're going to say."
+
+"But how can I find out things like that?" cried Peter.
+
+"You've got to use your wits," said McGivney. "But I'll give you one
+tip; get yourself a girl."
+
+"A girl?" cried Peter, in wonder.
+
+"Sure thing," said the other. "That's the way we always work. Guffey
+says there's just three times when people tell their secrets: The
+first is when they're drunk, and the second is when they're in
+love--"
+
+Then McGivney stopped. Peter, who wanted to complete his education,
+inquired, "And the third?"
+
+"The third is when they're both drunk and in love," was the reply.
+And Peter was silent, smitten with admiration. This business of
+sleuthing was revealing itself as more complicated and more
+fascinating all the time.
+
+"Ain't you seen any girl you fancy in that crowd?" demanded the
+other.
+
+"Well--it might be--" said Peter, shyly.
+
+"It ought to be easy," continued the detective. "Them Reds are all
+free lovers, you know."
+
+"Free lovers!" exclaimed Peter. "How do you mean?"
+
+"Didn't you know about that?" laughed the other.
+
+Peter sat staring at him. All the women that Peter had ever known or
+heard of took money for their love. They either took it directly, or
+they took it in the form of automobile rides and flowers and candy
+and tickets to the whang-doodle things. Could it be that there were
+women who did not take money in either form, but whose love was
+entirely free?
+
+The detective assured him that such was the case. "They boast about
+it," said he. "They think it's right." And to Peter that seemed the
+most shocking thing he had yet heard about the Reds.
+
+To be sure, when he thought it over, he could see that it had some
+redeeming points; it was decidedly convenient from the point of view
+of the man; it was so much money in his pocket. If women chose to be
+that silly--and Peter found himself suddenly thinking about little
+Jennie Todd. Yes, she would be that silly, it was plain to see. She
+gave away everything she had; so of course she would be a "free
+lover!"
+
+Peter went away from his rendezvous with McGivney, thrilling with a
+new and wonderful idea. You couldn't have got him to give up his job
+now. This sleuthing business was the real thing!
+
+It was late when Peter got home, but the two girls were sitting up
+for him, and their relief at his safe return was evident. He noticed
+that Jennie's face expressed deeper concern than her sister's, and
+this gave him a sudden new emotion. Jennie's breath came and went
+more swiftly because he had entered the room; and this affected his
+own breath in the same way. He had a swift impulse towards her, an
+entirely unselfish desire to reassure her and relieve her anxiety;
+but with an instinctive understanding of the sex game which he had
+not before known he possessed, he checked this impulse and turned
+instead to the older sister, assuring her that nobody had followed
+him. He told an elaborate story, prepared on the way; he had worked
+for ten days for a fellow at sawing wood--hard work, you bet, and
+then the fellow had tried to get out of paying him! Peter had caught
+him at his home that evening, and had succeeded in getting five
+dollars out of him, and a promise of a few dollars more every week.
+That was to cover future visits to McGivney.
+
+
+
+
+Section 18
+
+
+Peter lay awake a good part of the night, thinking over this new
+job--that of getting himself a girl. He realized that for some time
+he had been falling in love with little Jennie; but he wanted to be
+sane and practical, he wanted to use his mind in choosing a girl. He
+was after information, first of all. And who had the most to give
+him? He thought of Miss Nebbins, who was secretary to Andrews, the
+lawyer; she would surely know more secrets than anyone else; but
+then, Miss Nebbins was an old maid, who wore spectacles and
+broad-toed shoes, and was evidently out of the question for
+love-making. Then he thought of Miss Standish, a tall, blond beauty
+who worked in an insurance office and belonged to the Socialist
+Party. She was a "swell dresser," and Peter would have been glad to
+have something like that to show off to McGivney and the rest of
+Guffey's men; but with the best efforts of his self-esteem, Peter
+could not imagine himself persuading Miss Standish to look at him.
+There was a Miss Yankovich, one of the real Reds, who trained with
+the I. W. W.; but she was a Jewess, with sharp, black eyes that
+clearly indicated a temper, and frightened Peter. Also, he had a
+suspicion that she was interested in McCormick--tho of course with
+these "free lovers" you could never tell.
+
+But one girl Peter was quite sure about, and that was little Jennie;
+he didn't know if Jennie knew many secrets, but surely she could
+find some out for him. Once he got her for his own, he could use her
+to question others. And so Peter began to picture what love with
+Jennie would be like. She wasn't exactly what you would call
+"swell," but there was something about her that made him sure he
+needn't be ashamed of her. With some new clothes she would be
+pretty, and she had grand manners--she had not shown the least fear
+of the rich ladies who came to the house in their automobiles; also
+she knew an awful lot for a girl--even if most of what she knew
+wasn't so!
+
+Peter lost no time in setting to work at his new job. In the papers
+next morning appeared the usual details from Flanders; thousands of
+men being shot to pieces almost every hour of the day and night, a
+million men on each side locked in a ferocious combat that had
+lasted for weeks, that might last for months. And sentimental little
+Jennie sat there with brimming eyes, talking about it while Peter
+ate his oatmeal and thin milk. And Peter talked about it too; how
+wicked it was, and how they must stop it, he and Jennie together. He
+agreed with her now; he was a Socialist, he called her "Comrade,"
+and told her she had converted him. Her eyes lighted up with joy, as
+if she had really done something to end the war.
+
+They were sitting on the sofa, looking at the paper, and they were
+alone in the house. Peter suddenly looked up from the reading and
+said, very much embarrassed, "But Comrade Jennie--"
+
+"Yes," she said, and looked at him with her frank grey eyes. Peter
+was shy, truly a little frightened, this kind of detective business
+being new to him.
+
+"Comrade Jennie," he said, "I--I--don't know just how to say it, but
+I'm afraid I'm falling a little in love."
+
+Jennie drew back her hands, and Peter heard her breath come quickly.
+"Oh, Mr. Gudge!" she exclaimed.
+
+"I--I don't know--" stammered Peter. "I hope you won't mind."
+
+"Oh, don't let's do that!" she cried.
+
+"Why not, Comrade Jennie?" And he added, "I don't know as I can
+help it."
+
+"Oh, we were having such a happy time, Mr. Gudge! I thought we were
+going to work for the cause!"
+
+"Well, but it won't interfere--"
+
+"Oh, but it does, it does; it makes people unhappy!"
+
+"Then--" and Peter's voice trembled--"then you don't care the least
+bit for me, Comrade Jennie?"
+
+She hesitated a moment. "I don't know," she said. "I hadn't
+thought--"
+
+And Peter's heart gave a leap inside him. It was the first time that
+any girl had ever had to hesitate in answering that question for
+Peter. Something prompted him--just as if he had been doing this
+kind of "sleuthing" all his life. He reached over, and very gently
+took her hand. "You do care just a little for me?" he whispered.
+
+"Oh, Comrade Gudge," she answered, and Peter said, "Call me `Peter.'
+Please, please do."
+
+"Comrade Peter," she said, and there was a little catch in her
+throat, and Peter, looking at her, saw that her eyes were cast down.
+
+"I know I'm not very much to love," he pleaded. "I'm poor and
+obscure--I'm not good looking--"
+
+"Oh, it isn't that!" she cried, "Oh, no, no! Why should I think
+about such things? You are a comrade!"
+
+Peter had known, of course, just how she would take this line of
+talk. "Nobody has ever loved me," he said, sadly. "Nobody cares
+anything about you, when you are poor, and have nothing to offer--"
+
+"I tell you, that isn't it!" she insisted. "Please don't think that!
+You are a hero. You have sacrificed for the cause, and you are going
+on and become a leader."
+
+"I hope so," said Peter, modestly. "But then, what is it, Comrade
+Jennie? Why don't you care for me?"
+
+She looked up at him, and their eyes met, and with a little sob in
+her voice she answered, "I'm not well, Comrade Peter. I'm of no use;
+it would be wicked for me to marry."
+
+Somewhere back in the depths of Peter, where his inner self was
+crouching, it was as if a sudden douche of ice-cold water were let
+down on him. "Marry!" Who had said anything about marrying? Peter's
+reaction fitted the stock-phrase of the comic papers: "This is so
+sudden!"
+
+But Peter was too clever to reveal such dismay. He humored little
+Jennie, saying, "We don't have to marry right away. I could wait, if
+only I knew that you cared for me; and some day, when you get
+well--"
+
+She shook her head sadly. "I'm afraid I'll never get really well.
+And besides, neither of us have any money, Comrade Peter."
+
+Ah, there it was! Money, always money! This "free love" was nothing
+but a dream.
+
+"I could get a job," said Peter--just like any other tame and
+conventional wooer.
+
+"But you couldn't earn enough for two of us," protested the girl;
+and suddenly she sprang up. "Oh, Comrade Peter, let's not fall in
+love with each other! Let's not make ourselves unhappy, let's work
+for the cause! Promise me that you will!"
+
+Peter promised; but of course he had no remotest intention of
+keeping the promise. He was not only a detective, he was a man--and
+in both capacities he wanted Comrade Jennie. He had all the rest of
+the day, and over the addressing of envelopes which he undertook
+with her, he would now and then steal love-glances; and Jennie knew
+now what these looks meant, and the faint flush would creep over her
+cheeks and down into her neck and throat. She was really very pretty
+when she was falling in love, and Peter found his new job the most
+delightful one of his lifetime. He watched carefully, and noted the
+signs, and was sure he was making no mistake; before Sadie came back
+at supper-time he had his arms about Comrade Jennie, and was
+pressing kisses upon the lovely white throat; and Comrade Jennie was
+sobbing softly, and her pleading with him to stop had grown faint
+and unconvincing.
+
+
+
+
+Section 19
+
+
+There was the question of Sadie to be settled. There was a certain
+severe look that sometimes came about Sadie's lips, and that caused
+Peter to feel absolutely certain that Comrade Sadie had no sympathy
+with "free love," and very little sympathy with any love save her
+own for Jennie. She had nursed her "little sister" and tended her
+like a mother for many years; she took the food out of her mouth to
+give to Jennie--and Jennie in turn gave it to any wandering agitator
+who came along and hung around until mealtime. Peter didn't want
+Sadie to know what had been going on in her absence, and yet he was
+afraid to suggest to Jennie that she should deceive her sister.
+
+He managed it very tactfully. Jennie began pleading again: "We ought
+not to do this, Comrade Peter!" And so Peter agreed, perhaps they
+oughtn't, and they wouldn't any more. So Jennie put her hair in
+order, and straightened her blouse, and her lover could see that she
+wasn't going to tell Sadie.
+
+And the next day they were kissing again and agreeing again that
+they mustn't do it; and so once more Jennie didn't tell Sadie.
+Before long Peter had managed to whisper the suggestion that their
+love was their own affair, and they ought not to tell anybody for
+the present; they would keep the delicious secret, and it would do
+no one any harm. Jennie had read somewhere about a woman poet by the
+name of Mrs. Browning, who had been an invalid all her life, and
+whose health had been completely restored by a great and wonderful
+love. Such a love had now come to her; only Sadie might not
+understand, Sadie might think they did not know each other well
+enough, and that they ought to wait. They knew, of course, that they
+really did know each other perfectly, so there was no reason for
+uncertainty or fear. Peter managed deftly to put these suggestions
+into Jennie's mind as if they were her own.
+
+And all the time he was making ardent love to her; all day long,
+while he was helping her address envelopes and mail out circulars
+for the Goober Defense Committee. He really did work hard; he didn't
+mind working, when he had Jennie at the table beside him, and could
+reach over and hold her hand every now and then, or catch her in his
+arms and murmur passionate words. Delicious thrills and raptures
+possessed him; his hopes would rise like a flood-tide--but then,
+alas, only to ebb again! He would get so far, and every time it
+would be as if he had run into a stone wall. No farther!
+
+Peter realized that McGivney's "free love" talk had been a cruel
+mistake. Little Jennie was like all the other women--her love wasn't
+going to be "free." Little Jennie wanted a husband, and every time
+you kissed her, she began right away to talk about marriage, and you
+dared not hint at anything else because you knew it would spoil
+everything. So Peter was thrown back upon devices older than the
+teachings of any "Reds." He went after little Jennie, not in the way
+of "free lovers," but in the way of a man alone in the house with a
+girl of seventeen, and wishing to seduce her. He vowed that he loved
+her with an overwhelming and eternal love. He vowed that he would
+get a job and take care of her. And then he let her discover that he
+was suffering torments; he could not live without her. He played
+upon her sympathy, he played upon her childish innocence, he played
+upon that pitiful, weak sentimentality which caused her to believe
+in pacifism and altruism and socialism and all the other "isms" that
+were jumbled up in her head.
+
+And so in a couple of weeks Peter had succeeded in his purpose of
+carrying little Jennie by storm. And then, how enraptured he was!
+Peter, with his first girl, decided that being a detective was the
+job for him! Peter knew that he was a real detective now, using the
+real inside methods, and on the trail of the real secrets of the
+Goober case!
+
+And sure enough, he began at once to get them. Jennie was in love;
+Jennie was, as you might say, "drunk with love," and so she
+fulfilled both the conditions which Guffey had laid down. So Jennie
+told the truth! Sitting on Peter's knee, with her arms clasped about
+him, and talking about her girlhood, the happy days before her
+mother and father had been killed in the factory where they worked,
+little Jennie mentioned the name of a young man, Ibbetts.
+
+"Ibbetts?" said Peter. It was a peculiar name, and sounded
+familiar.
+
+"A cousin of ours," said Jennie.
+
+"Have I met him?" asked Peter, groping in his mind.
+
+"No, he hasn't been here."
+
+"Ibbetts?" he repeated, still groping; and suddenly he remembered.
+"Isn't his name Jack?"
+
+Jennie did not answer for a moment. He looked at her, and their eyes
+met, and he saw that she was frightened. "Oh, Peter!" she whispered.
+"I wasn't to tell! I wasn't to tell a soul!"
+
+Inside Peter, something was shouting with delight. To hide his
+emotion he had to bury his face in the soft white throat.
+"Sweetheart!" he whispered. "Darling!"
+
+"Uh, Peter!" she cried. "You know--don't you?"
+
+"Of course!" he laughed. "But I won't tell. You needn't mind
+trusting me."
+
+"Oh, but Mr. Andrews was so insistent!" said Jennie, "He made Sadie
+and me swear that we wouldn't breathe it to a soul."
+
+"Well, you didn't tell," said Peter. "I found it out by accident.
+Don't mention it, and nobody will be any the wiser. If they should
+find out that I know, they wouldn't blame you; they'd understand
+that I know Jack Ibbetts--me being in jail so long."
+
+So Jennie forgot all about the matter, and Peter went on with the
+kisses, making her happy, as a means of concealing his own
+exultation. He had done the job for which Guffey had sent him! He
+had solved the first great mystery of the Goober case! The spy in
+the jail of American City, who was carrying out news to the Defense
+Committee, was Jack Ibbetts, one of the keepers in the jail, and a
+cousin of the Todd sisters!
+
+
+
+
+Section 20
+
+
+It was fortunate that this was the day of Peter's meeting with
+McGivney. He could really not have kept this wonderful secret to
+himself over night. He made excuses to the girls, and dodged thru
+the chicken-yard as before, and made his way to the American House.
+As he walked, Peter's mind was working busily. He had really got his
+grip on the ladder of prosperity now; he must not fail to tighten
+it.
+
+McGivney saw right away from Peter's face that something had
+happened. "Well?" he inquired.
+
+"I've got it!" exclaimed Peter.
+
+"Got what?"
+
+"The name of the spy in the jail."
+
+"Christ! You don't mean it!" cried the other.
+
+"No doubt about it," answered Peter.
+
+"Who is he?"
+
+Peter clenched his hands and summoned his resolution. "First," he
+said, "you and me got to have an understanding. Mr. Guffey said I
+was to be paid, but he didn't say how much, or when."
+
+"Oh, hell!" said McGivney. "If you've got the name of that spy, you
+don't need to worry about your reward."
+
+"Well, that's all right," said Peter, "but I'd like to know what I'm
+to get and how I'm to get it."
+
+"How much do you want?" demanded the man with the face of a rat.
+Rat-like, he was retreating into a corner, his sharp black eyes
+watching his enemy. "How much?" he repeated.
+
+Peter had tried his best to rise to this occasion. Was he not
+working for the greatest and richest concern in American City, the
+Traction Trust? Tens and hundreds of millions of dollars they were
+worth--he had no idea how much, but he knew they could afford to pay
+for his secret. "I think it ought to be worth two hundred dollars,"
+he said.
+
+"Sure," said McGivney, "that's all right. We'll pay you that."
+
+And straightway Peter's heart sank. What a fool he had been! Why
+hadn't he had more courage, and asked for five hundred dollars? He
+might even have asked a thousand, and made himself independent for
+life!
+
+"Well," said McGivney, "who's the spy?"
+
+Peter made an agonizing, effort, and summoned yet more nerve.
+"First, I got to know, when do I get that money?"
+
+"Oh, good God!" said McGivney. "You give us the information, and
+you'll get your money all right. What kind of cheap skates do you
+take us for?"
+
+"Well, that's all right," said Peter. "But you know, Mr. Guffey
+didn't give me any reason to think he loved me. I still can hardly
+use this wrist like I used to."
+
+"Well, he was trying to get some information out of you," said
+McGivney. "He thought you were one of them dynamiters--how could you
+blame him? You give me the name of that spy, and I'll see you get
+your money."
+
+But still Peter wouldn't yield. He was afraid of the rat-faced
+McGivney, and his heart was thumping fast, but he stood his ground.
+"I think I ought to see that money," he said, doggedly.
+
+"Say, what the hell do you take me for?" demanded the detective.
+"D'you suppose I'm going to give you two hundred dollars and then
+have you give me some fake name and skip?"
+
+"Oh, I wouldn't do that!" cried Peter.
+
+"How do I know you wouldn't?"
+
+"Well, I want to go on working for you."
+
+"Sure, and we want you to go on working for us. This ain't the last
+secret we'll get from you, and you'll find we play straight with our
+people--how'd we ever get anywheres otherwise? There's a million
+dollars been put up to hang that Goober crowd, and if you deliver
+the goods, you'll get your share, and get it right on time."
+
+He spoke with conviction, and Peter was partly persuaded. But most
+of Peter's lifetime had been spent in watching people bargaining
+with one another--watching scoundrels trying to outwit one
+another--and when it was a question of some money to be got, Peter
+was like a bulldog that has got his teeth fixed tight in another
+dog's nose; he doesn't consider the other dog's feelings, nor does
+he consider whether the other dog admires him or not.
+
+"On time?" said Peter. "What do you mean by `on time'?"
+
+"Oh, my God!" said McGivney, in disgust.
+
+"Well, but I want to know," said Peter. "D'you mean when I give the
+name, or d'you mean after you've gone and found out whether he
+really is the spy or not?"
+
+So they worried back and forth, these snarling bulldogs, growing
+more and more angry. But Peter was the one who had got his teeth in,
+and Peter hung on. Once McGivney hinted quite plainly that the great
+Traction Trust had had power enough to shut Peter in the "hole" on
+two occasions and keep him there, and it might have power enough to
+do it a third time. Peter's heart failed with terror, but all the
+same, he hung on to McGivney's nose.
+
+"All right," said the rat-faced man, at last. He said it in a tone
+of wearied scorn; but that didn't worry Peter a particle. "All
+right, I'll take a chance with you." And he reached into his pocket
+and pulled out a roll of bills--twenty dollar bills they were, and
+he counted out ten of them. Peter saw that there was still a lot
+left to the roll, and knew that he hadn't asked as much money as
+McGivney had been prepared to have him ask; so his heart was sick
+within him. At the same time his heart was leaping with
+exultation--such a strange thing is the human heart!
+
+
+
+
+Section 21
+
+
+McGivney laid the money on the bed. "There it is," he said, "and if
+you give me the name of the spy you can take it. But you'd better
+take my advice and not spend it, because if it turns out that you
+haven't got the spy, by God, I believe Ed Guffey'd twist the arms
+out of you!"
+
+Peter was easy about that. "I know he's the spy all right."
+
+"Well, who is he?"
+
+"He's Jack Ibbetts."
+
+"The devil you say!" cried McGivney, incredulously.
+
+"Jack Ibbetts, one of the night keepers in the jail."
+
+"I know him," said the other. "But what put that notion into your
+head?"
+
+"He's a cousin of the Todd sisters."
+
+"Who are the Todd sisters?"
+
+"Jennie Todd is my girl," said Peter.
+
+"Girl!" echoed the other; he stared at Peter, and a grin spread over
+his face. "You got a girl in two weeks? I didn't know you had it in
+you!"
+
+It was a doubtful compliment, but Peter's smile was no less
+expansive, and showed all his crooked teeth. "I got her all right,"
+he said, "and she blabbed it out the first thing--that Ibbetts was
+her cousin. And then she was scared, because Andrews, the lawyer,
+had made her and her sister swear they wouldn't mention his name to
+a soul. So you see, they're using him for a spy--there ain't a
+particle of doubt about it."
+
+"Good God!" said McGivney, and there was genuine dismay in his tone.
+"Who'd think it possible? Why, Ibbetts is as decent a fellow as ever
+you talked to--and him a Red, and a traitor at that! You know,
+that's what makes it the devil trying to handle these Reds--you
+never can tell who they'll get; you never know who to trust. How,
+d'you suppose they manage it?"
+
+"I dunno," said Peter. "There's a sucker born every minute, you
+know!"
+
+"Well, anyhow, I see you ain't one of 'em," said the rat-faced man,
+as he watched Peter take the roll of bills from the bed and tuck
+them away in an inside pocket.
+
+
+
+
+Section 22
+
+
+Peter was warned by the rat-faced man that he must be careful how he
+spent any of that money. Nothing would be more certain to bring
+suspicion on him than to have it whispered about that he was "in
+funds." He must be able to show how he had come honestly by
+everything he had. And Peter agreed to that; he would hide the money
+away in a safe place until he was thru with his job.
+
+Then he in turn proceeded to warn McGivney. If they were to fire
+Ibbetts from his job, it would certainly cause talk, and might
+direct suspicion against Peter. McGivney answered with a smile that
+he wasn't born yesterday. They would "promote" Jack Ibbetts, giving
+him some job where he couldn't get any news about the Goober case;
+then, after a bit, they would catch him up on some mistake, or get
+him into some trouble, and fire him.
+
+At this meeting, and at later meetings, Peter and the rat-faced man
+talked out every aspect of the Goober case, which was becoming more
+and more complicated, and bigger as a public issue. New people were
+continually being involved, and new problems continually arising; it
+was more fascinating than a game of chess. McGivney had spoken the
+literal truth when he said that the big business interests of
+American City had put up a million dollars to hang Goober and his
+crowd. At the very beginning there had been offered seventeen
+thousand dollars in rewards for information, and these rewards
+naturally had many claimants. The trouble was that people who wanted
+this money generally had records that wouldn't go well before a
+jury; the women nearly always turned out to be prostitutes, and the
+men to be ex-convicts, forgers, gamblers, or what not. Sometimes
+they didn't tell their past records until the other side unearthed
+them, and then it was necessary to doctor court records, and pull
+wires all over the country.
+
+There were a dozen such witnesses as this in the Goober case. They
+had told their stories before the grand jury, and innumerable flaws
+and discrepancies had been discovered, which made more work and
+trouble for Guffey and his lieutenants. Thru a miserable mischance
+it happened that Jim Goober and his wife had been watching the
+parade from the roof of a building a couple of miles away, at the
+very hour when they were accused of having planted the suit-case
+with the bomb in it. Somebody had taken a photograph of the parade
+from this roof, which showed both Goober and his wife looking over,
+and also a big clock in front of a jewelry store, plainly indicating
+the very minute. Fortunately the prosecution got hold of this
+photograph first; but now the defense had learned of its existence,
+and was trying to get a look at it. The prosecution didn't dare
+destroy it, because its existence could be proven; but they had
+photographed the photograph, and re-photographed that, until they
+had the face of the clock so dim that the time could not be seen.
+Now the defense was trying to get evidence that this trick had been
+worked.
+
+Then there were all the witnesses for the defense. Thru another
+mischance it had happened that half a dozen different people had
+seen the bomb thrown from the roof of Guggenheim's Department Store;
+which entirely contradicted the suit-case theory upon which the
+prosecution was based. So now it was necessary to "reach" these
+various witnesses. One perhaps had a mortgage on his home which
+could be bought and foreclosed; another perhaps had a wife who
+wanted to divorce him, and could be persuaded to help get him into
+trouble. Or perhaps he was engaged in an intrigue with some other
+man's wife; or perhaps some woman could be sent to draw him into an
+intrigue.
+
+Then again, it appeared that very soon after the explosion some of
+Guffey's men had taken a sledge hammer and smashed the sidewalk,
+also the wall of the building where the explosion had taken place.
+This was to fit in with the theory of the suit-case bomb, and they
+had taken a number of photographs of the damage. But now it
+transpired that somebody had taken a photograph of the spot before
+this extra damage had been done, and that the defense was in
+possession of this photograph. Who had taken this photograph, and
+how could he be "fixed"? If Peter could help in such matters, he
+would come out of the Goober case a rich man.
+
+Peter would go away from these meetings with McGivney with his head
+full of visions, and would concentrate all his faculties upon the
+collecting of information. He and Jennie and Sadie talked about the
+case incessantly, and Jennie and Sadie would tell freely everything
+they had heard outside. Others would come in--young McCormick, and
+Miriam Yankovitch, and Miss Nebbins, the secretary to Andrews, and
+they would tell what they had learned and what they suspected, and
+what the defense was hoping to find out. They got hold of a cousin
+of the man who had taken the photograph on the roof; they were
+working on him, to get him to persuade the photographer to tell the
+truth. Next day Donald Gordon would come in, cast down with despair,
+because it had been learned that one of the most valuable witnesses
+of the defense, a groceryman, had once pleaded guilty to selling
+spoilt cheese! Thus every evening, before he went to sleep, Peter
+would jot down notes, and sew them up inside his jacket, and once a
+week he would go to the meeting with McGivney, and the two would
+argue and bargain over the value of Peter's news.
+
+
+
+
+Section 23
+
+
+It had become a fascinating game, and Peter would never have tired
+of it, but for the fact that he had to stay all day in the house
+with little Jennie. A honeymoon is all right for a few weeks, but no
+man can stand it forever. Little Jennie apparently never tired of
+being kissed, and never seemed satisfied that Peter thoroughly loved
+her. A man got thru with his love-making after awhile, but a woman,
+it appeared, never knew how to drop the subject; she was always
+looking before and after, and figuring consequences and
+responsibilities, her duty and her reputation and all the rest of
+it. Which, of course, was a bore.
+
+Jennie was unhappy because she was deceiving Sadie; she wanted to
+tell Sadie, and yet somehow it was easier to go on concealing than
+admit that one had concealed. Peter didn't see why Sadie had to be
+told at all; he didn't see why things couldn't stay just as they
+were, and why he and his sweetheart couldn't have some fun now and
+then, instead of always being sentimental, always having agonies
+over the class war, to say nothing of the world war, and the
+prospects of America becoming involved in it.
+
+This did not mean that Peter was hard and feelingless. No, when
+Peter clasped trembling little Jennie in his arms he was very deeply
+moved; he had a real sense of what a gentle and good little soul she
+was. He would have been glad to help her--but what could he do about
+it? The situation was such that he could not plead with her, he
+could not try to change her; he had to give himself up to all her
+crazy whims and pretend to agree with her. Little Jennie was by her
+weakness marked for destruction, and what good would it do for him
+to go to destruction along with her?
+
+Peter understood clearly that there are two kinds of people in the
+world, those who eat, and those who are eaten; and it was his
+intention to stay among the former, group. Peter had come in his
+twenty years of life to a definite understanding of the things
+called "ideas" and "causes" and "religions." They were bait to catch
+suckers; and there is a continual competition between the suckers,
+who of course don't want to be caught, and those people of superior
+wits who want to catch them, and therefore are continually inventing
+new and more plausible and alluring kinds of bait. Peter had by now
+heard enough of the jargon of the "comrades" to realize that theirs
+was an especially effective kind; and here was poor little Jennie,
+stuck fast on the hook, and what could Peter do about it?
+
+Yet, this was Peter's first love, and when he was deeply thrilled,
+he understood the truth of Guffey's saying that a man in love wants
+to tell the truth. Peter would have the impulse to say to her: "Oh,
+drop all that preaching, and give yourself a rest! Let's you and me
+enjoy life a bit."
+
+Yes, it would be all he could do to keep from saying this--despite
+the fact that he knew it would ruin everything. Once little Jennie
+appeared in a new silk dress, brought to her by one of the rich
+ladies whose heart was touched by her dowdy appearance. It was of
+soft grey silk--cheap silk, but fresh and new, and Peter had never
+had anything so fine in his arms before. It matched Jennie's grey
+eyes, and its freshness gave her a pink glow; or was it that Peter
+admired her, and loved her more, and so brought the blood to her
+cheeks? Peter had an impulse to take her out and show her off, and
+he pressed his face into the soft folds of the dress and whispered,
+"Say kid, some day you an me got to cut all this hard luck business
+for a bit!"
+
+He felt little Jennie stiffen, and draw away from him; so quickly he
+had to set to work to patch up the damage. "I want you to get well,"
+he pleaded. "You're so good to everybody--you treat everybody well
+but yourself!"
+
+It had been something in his tone rather than his actual words that
+had frightened the girl. "Oh Peter!" she cried. "What does it matter
+about me, or about any other one person, when millions of young men
+are being shot to fragments, and millions of women and children are
+starving to death!"
+
+So there they were, fighting the war again; Peter had to take up her
+burden, be a hero, and a martyr, and a "Red." That same afternoon,
+as fate willed it, three "wobblies" out of a job came to call; and
+oh, how tired Peter was of these wandering agitators--insufferable
+"grouches!" Peter would want to say: "Oh, cut it out! What you call
+your `cause' is nothing but your scheme to work with your tongues
+instead of with a pick and a shovel." And this would start an
+imaginary quarrel in Peter's mind. He would hear one of the fellows
+demanding, "How much pick and shovel work you ever done?" Another
+saying, "Looks to me like you been finding the easy jobs wherever
+you go!" The fact that this was true did not make Peter's irritation
+any less, did not make it easier for him to meet with Comrade Smith,
+and Brother Jones, and Fellow-worker Brown just out of jail, and
+listen to their hard-luck stories, and watch them take from the
+table food that Peter wanted, and--the bitterest pill of all--let
+them think that they were fooling him with their patter!
+
+The time came when Peter wasn't able to stand it any longer. Shut up
+in the house all day, he was becoming as irritable as a chained dog.
+Unless he could get out in the world again, he would surely give
+himself away. He pleaded that the doctors had warned him that his
+health would not stand indoor life; he must get some fresh air. So
+he got away by himself, and after that he found things much easier.
+He could spend a little of his money; he could find a quiet corner
+in a restaurant and get himself a beefsteak, and eat all he wanted
+of it, without feeling the eyes of any "comrades" resting upon him
+reprovingly. Peter had lived in a jail, and in an orphan asylum, and
+in the home of Shoemaker Smithers, but nowhere had he fared so
+meagerly as in the home of the Todd sisters, who were contributing
+nearly everything they owned to the Goober defense, and to the
+"Clarion," the Socialist paper of American City.
+
+
+
+
+Section 24
+
+
+Peter went to see Andrews, the lawyer, and asked for a job; he
+wanted to be active in the case, he said, so he was set to work in
+the offices of the Defense Committee, where he heard people talking
+about the case all day, and he could pick up no end of valuable
+tips. He made himself agreeable and gained friends; before long he
+was intimate with one of the best witnesses of the defense, and
+discovered that this man had once been named as co-respondent in a
+divorce case. Peter found out the name of the woman, and Guffey set
+to work to bring her to American City. The job was to be done
+cleverly, without the woman's even knowing that she was being used.
+She would have a little holiday, and the spell of old love would
+reassert itself, and Guffey would have a half dozen men to spring
+the trap--and there would be a star witness of the Goober defense
+clean down and out! "There's always something you can get them on!"
+said McGivney, and cheerfully paid Peter Gudge five hundred dollars
+for the information he had brought.
+
+Peter would have been wildly happy, but just at this moment a
+dreadful calamity befell him. Jennie had been talking about marriage
+more and more, and now she revealed to him a reason which made
+marriage imperative. She revealed it with downcast eyes, with
+blushes and trembling; and Peter was so overcome with consternation
+that he could not play the part that was expected of him. Hitherto
+in these love crises he had caught Jennie in his arms and comforted
+her; but now for a moment he let her see his real emotions.
+
+Jennie promptly had a fit. What was the matter with him? Didn't he
+mean to marry her, as he had promised? Surely he must realize now
+that they could no longer delay! And Peter, who was not familiar
+with the symptoms of hysterics, lost his head completely and could
+think of nothing to do but rush out of the house and slam the door.
+
+The more he considered it, the more clearly he realized that he was
+in the devil of a predicament. As a servant of the Traction Trust,
+he had taken it for granted that he was immune to all legal
+penalties and obligations; but here, he had a feeling, was a trouble
+from which the powerful ones of the city would be unable to shield
+their agent. Were they able to arrange it so that one could marry a
+girl, and then get out of it when one's job was done?
+
+Peter was so uneasy that he had to call up the office of Guffey and
+get hold of McGivney. This was dangerous, because the prosecution
+was tapping telephone wires, and they feared the defense might be
+doing the same. But Peter took a chance; he told McGivney to come
+and meet him at the usual place; and there they argued the matter
+out, and Peter's worst fears were confirmed. When he put the
+proposition up to McGivney, the rat-faced man guffawed in his face.
+He found it so funny that he did not stop laughing until he saw that
+he was putting his spy into a rage.
+
+"What's the joke?" demanded Peter. "If I'm ruined, where'll you get
+any more information?"
+
+"But, my God!" said McGivney. "What did you have to go and get that
+kind of a girl for?"
+
+"I had to take what I could," answered Peter. "Besides, they're all
+alike--they get into trouble, and you can't help it."
+
+"Sure, you can help it!" said McGivney. "Why didn't you ask long
+ago? Now if you've got yourself tied up with a marrying proposition,
+it's your own lookout; you can't put it off on me."
+
+They argued back and forth. The rat-faced man was positive that
+there was no way Peter could pretend to marry Jennie and not have
+the marriage count. He might get himself into no end of trouble and
+certainly he would be ruined as a spy. What he must do was to pay
+the girl some money and send her somewhere to get fixed up. McGivney
+would find out the name of a doctor to do the job.
+
+"Yes, but what excuse can I give her?" cried Peter. "I mean, why I
+don't marry her!"
+
+"Make something up," said McGivney. "Why not have a wife already?"
+Then, seeing Peter's look of dismay: "Sure, you can fix that. I'll
+get you one, if you need her. But you won't have to take that
+trouble--just tell your girl a hard luck story. You've got a wife,
+you thought you could get free from her, but now you find you can't;
+your wife's got wind of what you're doing here, and she's trying to
+blackmail you. Fix it up so your girl can't do anything on account
+of hurting the Goober defense. If she's really sincere about it, she
+won't disgrace you; maybe she won't even tell her sister."
+
+Peter hated to do anything like that. He had a vision of little
+Jennie lying on the sofa in hysterics as he had left her, and he
+dreaded the long emotional scene that would be necessary. However,
+it seemed that he must go thru with it; there was no better way that
+he could think of. Also, he must be quick, because in a couple of
+hours Sadie would be coming home from work, and it might be too
+late.
+
+
+
+
+Section 25
+
+
+Peter hurried back to the Todd home, and there was white-faced
+little Jennie lying on the bed, still sobbing. One would think she
+might have used up her surplus stock of emotions; but no, there is
+never any limit to the emotions a woman can pour out. As soon as
+Peter had got fairly started on the humiliating confession that he
+had a wife, little Jennie sprang up from the bed with a terrified
+shriek, and confronted him with a face like the ghost of an escaped
+lunatic. Peter tried to explain that it wasn't his fault, he had
+really expected to be free any day. But Jennie only clasped her
+hands to her forehead and screamed: "You have deceived me! You have
+betrayed me!" It was just like a scene in the movies, the bored
+little devil inside Peter was whispering.
+
+He tried to take her hand and reason with her, but she sprang away
+from him, she rushed to the other side of the room and stood there,
+staring at him as if she were some wild thing that he had in a
+corner and was threatening to kill. She made so much noise that he
+was afraid that she would bring the neighbors in; he had to point
+out to her that if this matter became public he would be ruined
+forever as a witness, and thus she might be the means of sending Jim
+Goober to the gallows.
+
+Thereupon Jennie fell silent, and it was possible for Peter to get
+in a word. He told her of the intrigues against him; the other side
+had sent somebody to him and offered him ten thousand dollars if he
+would sell out the Goober defense. Now, since he had refused, they
+were trying to blackmail him, using his wife. They had somehow come
+to suspect that he was involved in a love affair, and this was to be
+the means of ruining him.
+
+Jennie still would not let Peter touch, her, but she consented to
+sit down quietly in a chair, and figure out what they were going to
+do. Whatever happened, she said, they must do no harm to the Goober
+case. Peter had done her a monstrous wrong in keeping the truth from
+her, but she would suffer the penalty, whatever it might be; she
+would never involve him.
+
+Peter started to explain; perhaps it wasn't so serious as she
+feared. He had been thinking things over; he knew where Pericles
+Priam, his old employer, was living, and Pericles was rich now, and
+Peter felt sure that he could borrow two hundred dollars, and there
+were places where little Jennie could go--there were ways to get out
+of this trouble--
+
+But little Jennie stopped him. She was only a child in some ways,
+but in others she was a mature woman. She had strange fixed ideas,
+and when you ran into them it was like running into a stone wall.
+She would not hear of the idea Peter suggested; it would be murder.
+
+"Nonsense," said Peter, echoing McGivney. "It's nothing; everybody
+does it." But Jennie was apparently not listening. She sat staring
+with her wild, terrified eyes, and pulling at her dress with her
+fingers. Peter got to watching these fingers, and they got on his
+nerves. They behaved like insane fingers; they manifested all the
+emotions which the rest of little Jennie was choking back and
+repressing.
+
+"If you would only not take it so seriously!" Peter pleaded. "It's a
+miserable accident, but it's happened, and now we've got to make the
+best of it. Some day I'll get free; some day I'll marry you."
+
+"Stop, Peter!" the girl whispered, in her tense voice. "I don't want
+to talk to you any more, if that's all you have to say. I don't know
+that I'd be willing to marry you--now that I know you could deceive
+me--that you could go on deceiving me day after day for months."
+
+Peter thought she was going to break out into hysterics again, and
+he was frightened. He tried to plead with her, but suddenly she
+sprang up. "Go away!" she exclaimed. "Please go away and let me
+alone. I'll think it over and decide what to do myself. Whatever I
+do, I won't disgrace you, so leave me alone, go quickly!"
+
+
+
+
+Section 26
+
+
+She drove him out of the house, and Peter went, though with many
+misgivings. He wandered about the streets, not knowing what to do
+with himself, looking back over the blunders he had made and
+tormenting himself with that most tormenting of all thoughts: how
+different my life might have been, if only I had had sense enough to
+do this, or not to do that! Dinner time came, and Peter blew himself
+to a square meal, but even that did not comfort him entirely. He
+pictured Sadie coming home at this hour. Was Jennie telling her or
+not?
+
+There was a big mass meeting called by the Goober Defense Committee
+that evening, and Peter attended, and it proved to be the worst
+thing he could have done. His mind was in no condition to encounter
+the fierce passions of this crowded assemblage. Peter had the
+picture of himself being exposed and denounced; he wasn't sure yet
+that it mightn't happen to him. And here was this meeting--thousands
+of workingmen, horny handed blacksmiths, longshoremen with shoulders
+like barns and truckmen with fists like battering rams, long-haired
+radicals of a hundred dangerous varieties, women who waved red
+handkerchiefs and shrieked until to Peter they seemed like gorgons
+with snakes instead of hair.
+
+Such were the mob-frenzies engendered by the Goober case; and Peter
+knew, of course, that to all these people he was a traitor, a
+poisonous worm, a snake in the grass. If ever they were to find out
+what he was doing--if for instance, someone were to rise up and
+expose him to this crowd--they would seize him and tear him to
+pieces. And maybe, right now, little Jennie was telling Sadie; and
+Sadie would tell Andrews, and Andrews would become suspicious, and
+set spies on Peter Gudge! Maybe they had spies on him already, and
+knew of his meetings with McGivney!
+
+Haunted by such terrors, Peter had to listen to the tirades of
+Donald Gordon, of John Durand, and of Sorensen, the longshoremen's
+leader. He had to listen to exposure after exposure of the tricks
+which Guffey had played; he had to hear the district attorney of the
+county denounced as a suborner of perjury, and his agents as
+blackmailers and forgers. Peter couldn't understand why such things
+should be permitted--why these speakers were not all clapped into
+jail. But instead, he had to sit there and listen; he even had to
+applaud and pretend to approve! All the other secret operatives of
+the Traction Trust and of the district attorney's office had to
+listen and pretend to approve! In the hall Peter had met Miriam
+Yankovich, and was sitting next to her. "Look," she said, "there's a
+couple of dicks over there. Look at the mugs on them!"
+
+"Which?" said Peter.
+
+And she answered: "That fellow that looks like a bruiser, and that
+one next to him, with the face of a rat." Peter looked, and saw that
+it was McGivney; and McGivney looked at Peter, but gave no sign.
+
+The meeting lasted until nearly midnight. It subscribed several
+thousand dollars to the Goober defense fund, and adopted ferocious
+resolutions which it ordered printed and sent to every local of
+every labor union in the country. Peter got out before it was over,
+because he could no longer stand the strain of his own fears and
+anxieties. He pushed his way thru the crowd, and in the lobby he ran
+into Pat McCormick, the I. W. W. leader.
+
+There was more excitement in this boy's grim face than Peter had
+ever seen there before. Peter thought it was the meeting, but the
+other rushed up to him, exclaiming: "Have you heard the news?"
+
+"What news?"
+
+"Little Jennie Todd has killed herself!"
+
+"My God!" gasped Peter, starting back.
+
+"Ada Ruth just told me. Sadie found a note when she got home. Jennie
+had left--she was going to drown herself."
+
+"But what--why?" cried Peter, in horror.
+
+"She was suffering so, her health was so wretched, she begs Sadie
+not to look for her body, not to make a fuss--they'll never find
+her."
+
+And horrified and stunned as Peter was, there was something inside
+him that drew a deep breath of relief. Little Jennie had kept her
+promise! Peter was, safe!
+
+
+
+
+Section 27
+
+
+Yes, Peter was safe, but it had been a close call, and he still had
+painful scenes to play his part in. He had to go back to the Todd
+home and meet the frantic Sadie, and weep and be horrified with the
+rest of them. It would have been suspicious if he had not done this;
+the "comrades" would never have forgiven him. Then to his dismay, he
+found that Sadie had somehow come to a positive conviction as to
+Jennie's trouble. She penned Peter up in a corner and accused him of
+being responsible; and there was poor Peter, protesting vehemently
+that he was innocent, and wishing that the floor would open up and
+swallow him.
+
+In the midst of his protestations a clever scheme occurred to him.
+He lowered his voice in shame. There was a man, a young man, who
+used to come to see Jennie off and on. "Jennie asked me not to
+tell." Peter hesitated a moment, and added his master-stroke.
+"Jennie explained to me that she was a free-lover; she told me all
+about free love. I told her I didn't believe in it, but you know,
+Sadie, when Jennie believed in anything, she would stand by it and
+act on it. So I felt certain it wouldn't do any good for me to butt
+in."
+
+Sadie almost went out of her mind at this. She glared at Peter.
+"Slanderer! Devil!" she cried. "Who was this man?"
+
+Peter answered, "He went by the name of Ned. That's what Jennie
+called him. It wasn't my business to pin her down about him."
+
+"It wasn't your business to look out for an innocent child?"
+
+"Jennie herself said she wasn't an innocent child, she knew exactly
+what she was doing--all Socialists did it." And to this parting shot
+he added that he hadn't thought it was decent, when he was a guest
+in a home, to spy on the morals of the people in it. When Sadie
+persisted in doubting him, and even in calling him names, he took
+the easiest way out of the difficulty--fell into a rage and stormed
+out of the house.
+
+Peter felt pretty certain that Sadie would not spread the story very
+far; it was too disgraceful to her sister and to herself; and maybe
+when she had thought it over she might come to believe Peter's
+story; maybe she herself was a "free lover." McGivney had certainly
+said that all Socialists were, and he had been studying them a lot.
+Anyhow, Sadie would have to think first of the Goober case, just as
+little Jennie had done. Peter had them there all right, and realized
+that he could afford to be forgiving, so he went to the telephone
+and called up Sadie and said: "I want you to know that I'm not going
+to say anything about this story; it won't become known except thru
+you."
+
+There were half a dozen people whom Sadie must have told. Miss
+Nebbins was icy-cold to Peter the next time he came in to see Mr.
+Andrews; also Miriam Yankovich lost her former cordiality, and
+several other women treated him with studied reserve. But the only
+person who spoke about the matter was Pat McCormick, the I. W. W.
+boy who had given Peter the news of little Jennie's suicide. Perhaps
+Peter hadn't been able to act satisfactorily on that occasion; or
+perhaps the young fellow had observed something for himself, some
+love-glances between Peter and Jennie. Peter had never felt
+comfortable in the presence of this silent Irish boy, whose dark
+eyes would roam from one person to another in the room, and seemed
+to be probing your most secret thoughts.
+
+Now Peter's worst fears were justified. "Mac" got him off in a
+corner, and put his fist under his nose, and told him that he was "a
+dirty hound," and if it hadn't been for the Goober case, he, "Mac,"
+would kill him without a moment's concern.
+
+And Peter did not dare open his mouth; the look on the Irishman's
+face was so fierce that he was really afraid for his life. God, what
+a hateful lot these Reds were! And now here was Peter with the worst
+one of all against him! From now on his life would be in danger from
+this maniac Irishman! Peter hated him--so heartily and genuinely
+that it served to divert his thoughts from little Jennie, and to
+make him regard himself as a victim.
+
+Yes, in the midnight hours when Jennie's gentle little face haunted
+him and his conscience attacked him, Peter looked back upon the
+tangled web of events, and saw quite clearly how inevitable this
+tragedy had been, how naturally it had grown out of circumstances
+beyond his control. The fearful labor struggle in American City was
+surely not Peter's fault; nor was it his fault that he had been
+drawn into it, and forced to act first as an unwilling witness, and
+then as a secret agent. Peter read the American City "Times" every
+morning, and knew that the cause of Goober was the cause of anarchy
+and riot, while the cause of the district attorney and of Guffey's
+secret service was the cause of law and order. Peter was doing his
+best in this great cause, he was following the instructions of those
+above him, and how could he be blamed because one poor weakling of a
+girl had got in the way of the great chariot of the law?
+
+Peter knew that it wasn't his fault; and yet grief and terror gnawed
+at him. For one thing, he missed little Jennie, he missed her by day
+and he missed her by night. He missed her gentle voice, her fluffy
+soft hair, her body in his empty arms. She was his first love, and
+she was gone, and it is human weakness to appreciate things most
+when they have been lost.
+
+Peter aspired to be a strong man, a "he-man," according to the slang
+that was coming into fashion; he now tried to live up to that role.
+He didn't want to go mooning about over this accident; yet Jennie's
+face stayed with him--sometimes wild, as he had seen it at their
+last meeting, sometimes gentle and reproachful. Peter would remember
+how good she had been, how tender, how never-failing in instant
+response to an advance of love on his part. Where would he ever find
+another girl like that?
+
+Another thing troubled him especially--a strange, inexplicable
+thing, for which Peter had no words, and about which he found
+himself frequently thinking. This weak, frail slip of a girl had
+deliberately given her life for her convictions; she had died, in
+order that he might be saved as a witness for the Goobers! Of course
+Peter had known all along that little Jennie was doomed, that she
+was throwing herself away, that nothing could save her. But somehow,
+it does frighten the strongest heart when people are so fanatical as
+to throw away their very lives for a cause. Peter found himself
+regarding the ideas of these Reds from a new angle; before this they
+had been just a bunch of "nuts," but now they seemed to him
+creatures of monstrous deformity, products of the devil, or of a God
+gone insane.
+
+
+
+
+Section 28
+
+
+There was only one person whom Peter could take into his confidence,
+and that was McGivney. Peter could not conceal from McGivney the
+fact that he was troubled over his bereavement; and so McGivney took
+him in hand and gave him a "jacking up." It was dangerous work, this
+of holding down the Reds; dangerous, because their doctrines were so
+insidious, they were so devilishly cunning in their working upon
+people's minds. McGivney had seen more than one fellow start fooling
+with their ideas and turn into one himself. Peter must guard against
+that danger.
+
+"It ain't that," Peter explained. "It ain't their ideas. It's just
+that I was soft on that kid."
+
+"Well, it comes to the same thing," said McGivney. "You get sorry
+for them, and the first thing you know, you're listening to their
+arguments. Now, Peter, you're one of the best men I've got on this
+case--and that's saying a good deal, because I've got charge of
+seventeen." The rat-faced man was watching Peter, and saw Peter
+flush with pleasure. Yes, he continued, Peter had a future before
+him, he would make all kinds of money, he would be given
+responsibility, a permanent position. But he might throw it all away
+if he got to fooling with these Red doctrines. And also, he ought to
+understand, he could never fool McGivney; because McGivney had spies
+on him!
+
+So Peter clenched his hands and braced himself up. Peter was a real
+"he-man," and wasn't going to waste himself. "It's just that I can't
+help missing the girl!" he explained; to which the other answered:
+"Well, that's only natural. What you want to do is to get yourself
+another one."
+
+Peter went on with his work in the office of the Goober Defense
+Committee. The time for the trial had come, and the struggle between
+the two giants had reached its climax. The district attorney, who
+was prosecuting the case, and who was expecting to become governor
+of the state on the strength of it, had the backing of half a dozen
+of the shrewdest lawyers in the city, their expenses being paid by
+the big business men. A small army of detectives were at work, and
+the court where the trial took place was swarming with spies and
+agents. Every one of the hundreds of prospective jurors had been
+investigated and card-cataloged, his every weakness and every
+prejudice recorded; not merely had his psychology been studied, but
+his financial status, and that of his relatives and friends. Peter
+had met half a dozen other agents beside McGivney, men who had come
+to question him about this or that detail; and from the conversation
+of these men he got glimpses of the endless ramifications of the
+case. It seemed to him that the whole of American City had been
+hired to help send Jim Goober to the gallows.
+
+Peter was now getting fifty dollars a week and expenses, in addition
+to special tips for valuable bits of news. Hardly a day passed that
+he didn't get wind of some important development, and every night he
+would have to communicate with McGivney. The prosecution had a
+secret office, where there was a telephone operator on duty, and
+couriers traveling to the district attorney's office and to Guffey's
+office--all this to forestall telephone tapping. Peter would go
+from the headquarters of the Goober Defense Committee to a
+telephone-booth in some hotel, and there he would give the secret
+number, and then his own number, which was six forty-two. Everybody
+concerned was known by numbers, the principal people, both of the
+prosecution and of the defense; the name "Goober" was never spoken
+over the phone.
+
+After the trial had got started it was hard to get anybody to work
+in the office of the Defense Committee--everybody wanted to be in
+court! Someone would come in every few minutes, with the latest
+reports of sensational developments. The prosecution had succeeded
+in making away with the police court records, proving the conviction
+of its star witness of having kept a brothel for negroes. The
+prosecution had introduced various articles alleged to have been
+found on the street by the police after the explosion; one was a
+spring, supposed to have been part of a bomb--but it turned out to
+be a part of a telephone! Also they had introduced parts of a
+clock--but it appeared that in their super-zeal they had introduced
+the parts of _two_ clocks! There was some excitement like this every
+day.
+
+
+
+
+Section 29
+
+
+The time came when the prosecution closed its case, and Peter was
+summoned to the office of Andrews, to be coached in his part as a
+witness. He would be wanted in two or three days, the lawyers told
+him.
+
+Now Peter had never intended to appear as a witness; he had been
+fooling the defense all this time--"stringing them along," as he
+phrased it, so as to keep in favor with them to the end. Meantime he
+had been figuring out how to justify his final refusal. Peter was
+eating his lunch when this plan occurred to him, and he was so much
+excited that he swallowed a piece of pie the wrong way, and had to
+jump up and run out of the lunch-room. It was his first stroke of
+genius; hitherto it was McGivney who had thought these things out,
+but now Peter was on the way to becoming his own boss! Why should he
+go on taking orders, when he had such brains of his own? He took the
+plan to McGivney, and McGivney called it a "peach," and Peter was so
+proud he asked for a raise, and got it.
+
+This plan had the double advantage that not merely would it save
+Peter's prestige and reputation, among the Reds, it would ruin
+McCormick, who was one of the hardest workers for the defense, and
+one of the most dangerous Reds in American City, as well as being a
+personal enemy of Peter's. McGivney pulled some of his secret wires,
+and the American City "Times," in the course of its accounts of the
+case, mentioned a rumor that the defense proposed to put on the
+stand a man who claimed to have been tortured in the city jail, in
+an effort to make him give false testimony against Goober; the
+prosecution had investigated this man's record and discovered that
+only recently he had seduced a young girl, and she had killed
+herself because of his refusal to marry her. Peter took this copy of
+the American City "Times" to the office of David Andrews, and
+insisted upon seeing the lawyer before he went to court; he laid the
+item on the desk, and declared that there was his finish as a
+witness in the Goober case. "It's a cowardly, dirty lie!" he
+declared. "And the man responsible for circulating it is Pat
+McCormick."
+
+Such are the burdens that fall upon the shoulders of lawyers in
+hard-fought criminal trials! Poor Andrews did his best to patch
+things up; he pleaded with Peter--if the story was false, Peter
+ought to be glad of a chance to answer his slanderers. The defense
+would put witnesses on the stand to deny it. They would produce
+Sadie Todd to deny it.
+
+"But Sadie told me she suspected me!"
+
+"Yes," said Andrews, "but she told me recently she wasn't sure."
+
+"Much good that'll do me!" retorted Peter. "They'll ask me if
+anybody ever accused me, and who, and I'll have to say McCormick,
+and if they put him on the stand, will he deny that he accused me?"
+
+Peter flew into a rage against McCormick; a fine sort of radical he
+was, pretending to be devoted to the cause, and having no better
+sense than to repeat a cruel slander against a comrade! Here Peter
+had been working on this case for nearly six months, working for
+barely enough to keep body and soul together, and now they expected
+him to go on the and have a story like that brought out in the
+papers, and have the prosecution hiring witnesses to prove him a
+villain. "No, sir!" said Peter. "I'm thru with this case right now.
+You put McCormick on the witness stand and let him save Goober's
+life. You can't use me, I'm out!" And shutting his ears to the
+lawyer's pleading, he stormed out of the office, and over to the
+office of the Goober Defense Committee, where he repeated the same
+scene.
+
+
+
+
+Section 30
+
+
+Thus Peter was done with the Goober case, and mighty glad of it he
+was. He was tired of the strain, he needed a rest and a little
+pleasure. He had his pockets stuffed with money, and a good fat bank
+account, and proposed to take things easy for the first time in his
+hard and lonely life.
+
+The opportunity was at hand: for he had taken McGivney's advise and
+got himself another girl. It was a little romance, very worldly and
+delightful. To understand it, you must know that in the judicial
+procedure of American City they used both men and women jurors; and
+because busy men of affairs did not want to waste their time in the
+jury-box, nor to have the time of their clerks and workingmen
+wasted, there had gradually grown up a class of men and women who
+made their living by working as jurors. They hung around the
+courthouse and were summoned on panel after panel, being paid six
+dollars a day, with numerous opportunities to make money on the side
+if they were clever.
+
+Among this group of professional jurors, there was the keenest
+competition to get into the jury-box of the Goober case. It was to
+be a long and hard-fought case, there would be a good deal of
+prestige attached to it, and also there were numerous sums of money
+floating round. Anybody who got in, and who voted right, might be
+sure of an income for life, to say nothing of a life-job as a juror
+if he wanted it.
+
+Peter happened to be in court while the talesmen were being
+questioned. A very charming and petite brunette--what Peter
+described as a "swell dresser"--was on the stand, and was cleverly
+trying to satisfy both sides. She knew nothing about the case, she
+had never read anything about it, she knew nothing and cared nothing
+about social problems; so she was accepted by the prosecution. But
+then the defense took her in hand, and it appeared that once upon a
+time she had been so indiscreet as to declare to somebody her
+conviction that all labor leaders ought to be stood up against the
+wall and filled with lead; so she was challenged by the defense, and
+very much chagrined she came down from the stand, and took a seat in
+the courtroom next to Peter. He saw a trace of tears in her eyes,
+and realizing her disappointment, ventured a word of sympathy. The
+acquaintance grew, and they went out to lunch together.
+
+Mrs. James was her name, and she was a widow, a grass widow as she
+archly mentioned. She was quick and lively, with brilliant white
+teeth, and cheeks with the glow of health in them; this glow came
+out of a little bottle, but Peter never guessed it. Peter had got
+himself a good suit of clothes now, and made bold to spend some
+money on the lunch. As it happened, both he and Mrs. James were thru
+with the Goober case; both were tired and wanted a change, and
+Peter, blushing shyly, suggested that a sojourn at the beach might
+be fun. Mrs. James agreed immediately, and the matter was arranged.
+
+Peter had seen enough of the detective business by this time to know
+what you can safely do, and what you had better not do. He didn't
+travel with his grass widow, he didn't pay her car-fare, nor do
+anything else to constitute her a "white slave." He simply went to
+the beach and engaged himself a comfortable apartment; and next day,
+strolling on the board walk, he happened to meet the widow.
+
+So for a couple of months Peter and Mrs. James set up housekeeping
+together. It was a wonderful experience for the former, because Mrs.
+James was what is called a "lady," she had rich relatives, and took
+pains to let Peter know that she had lived in luxury before her
+husband had run away to Paris with a tight-rope walker. She taught
+Peter all those worldly arts which one misses when one is brought up
+in an orphan asylum, and on the road with a patent medicine vender.
+Tactfully, and without hurting his feelings, she taught him how to
+hold a knife and fork, and what color tie to select. At the same
+time she managed to conduct a propaganda which caused him to regard
+himself as the most favored of mankind; he was overwhelmed with
+gratitude for every single kiss from the lips of his grass widow. Of
+course he could not expect such extraordinary favors of fortune
+without paying for them; he had learned by now that there was no
+such thing as "free love." So he paid, hand over fist; he not only
+paid all the expenses of the unregistered honeymoon, he bought
+numerous expensive presents at the lady's tactful suggestion. She
+was always so vivacious and affectionate when Peter had given her a
+present! Peter lived in a kind of dream, his money seemed to go out
+of his pockets without his having to touch it.
+
+Meantime great events were rolling by, unheeded by Peter and his
+grass widow who never read the newspapers. For one thing Jim Goober
+was convicted and sentenced to die on the gallows, and Jim Goober's
+associate, Biddle, was found guilty, and sentenced to prison for
+life. Also, America entered the war, and a wave of patriotic
+excitement swept like a prairie fire over the country. Peter could
+not help hearing about this; his attention was attracted to one
+aspect of the matter--Congress was about to pass a conscription act.
+And Peter was within the age limit; Peter would almost certainly be
+drafted into the army!
+
+No terror that he had ever felt in his life was equal to this
+terror. He had tried to forget the horrible pictures of battle and
+slaughter, of machine-guns and hand-grenades and torpedoes and
+poison gas, with which little Jennie had filled his imagination; but
+now these imaginings came crowding back upon him, now for the first
+time they concerned him. From that time on his honeymoon was
+spoiled. Peter and his grass widow were like a party of picnickers
+who are far away in the wilderness, and see a black thunder-storm
+come rolling up the sky!
+
+Also, Peter's bank account was running low. Peter had had no
+conception how much money you could spend on a grass widow who is a
+"swell dresser" and understands what is "proper." He was overwhelmed
+with embarrassment; he put off telling Mrs. James until the last
+moment--in fact, until he wasn't quite sure whether he had enough
+money in bank to meet the last check he had given to the landlady.
+Then, realizing that the game was up, he told.
+
+He was surprised to see how charmingly a grass widow of "good
+breeding" could take bad tidings. Evidently it wasn't the first time
+that Mrs. James had been to the beach. She smiled cheerfully, and
+said that it was the jury-box for her once more. She gave Peter her
+card, and told him she would be glad to have him call upon her
+again--when he had restored his fortunes. She packed up her
+suit-case and her new trunk full of Peter's presents, and departed
+with the most perfect sweetness and good taste.
+
+
+
+
+Section 31
+
+
+So there was Peter, down and out once more. But fate was kind to
+him. That very day came a letter signed "Two forty-three," which
+meant McGivney. "Two forty-three" had some important work for Peter,
+so would he please call at once? Peter pawned his last bit of
+jewelry for his fare to American City, and met McGivney at the usual
+rendezvous.
+
+
+The purpose of the meeting was quickly explained. America was now at
+war, and the time had come when the mouths of these Reds were to be
+stopped for good. You could do things in war-time that you couldn't
+do in peace-time, and one of the things you were going to do was to
+put an end to the agitation against property. Peter licked his lips,
+metaphorically speaking. It was something he had many times told
+McGivney ought to be done. Pat McCormick especially ought to be put
+away for good. These were a dangerous bunch, these Reds, and Mac was
+the worst of all. It was every man's duty to help, and what could
+Peter do?
+
+McGivney answered that the authorities were making a complete list
+of all the radical organizations and their members, getting evidence
+preliminary to arrests. Guffey was in charge of the job; as in the
+Goober case, the big business interests of the city were going ahead
+while the government was still wiping the sleep out of its eyes.
+Would Peter take a job spying upon the Reds in American City?
+
+"I can't!" exclaimed Peter. "They're all sore at me because I didn't
+testify in the Goober case."
+
+"We can easily fix that up," answered the rat-faced man. "It may
+mean a little inconvenience for you. You may have to go to jail for
+a few days."
+
+"To jail!" cried Peter, in dismay.
+
+"Yes," said the other, "you'll have to get arrested, and made into a
+martyr. Then, you see, they'll all be sure you're straight, and
+they'll take you back again and welcome you."
+
+Peter didn't like the idea of going to jail; his memories of the
+jail in American City were especially painful. But McGivney
+explained that this was a time when men couldn't consider their own
+feelings; the country was in danger, public safety must be
+protected, and it was up to everybody to make some patriotic
+sacrifice. The rich men were all subscribing to liberty bonds; the
+poor men were going to give their lives; and what was Peter Gudge
+going to give? "Maybe I'll be drafted into the army," Peter
+remarked.
+
+"No, you won't--not if you take this job," said McGivney. "We can
+fix that. A man like you, who has special abilities, is too precious
+to be wasted." Peter decided forthwith that he would accept the
+proposition. It was much more sensible to spend a few days in jail
+than to spend a few years in the trenches, and maybe the balance of
+eternity under the sod of France.
+
+Matters were quickly arranged. Peter took off his good clothes, and
+dressed himself as became a workingman, and went into the
+eating-room where Donald Gordon, the Quaker boy, always got his
+lunch. Peter was quite sure that Donald would be one of the leading
+agitators against the draft, and in this he was not mistaken.
+
+Donald was decidedly uncordial in his welcoming of Peter; without
+saying a word the young Quaker made Peter aware that he was a
+renegade, a coward who had "thrown down" the Goober defense. But
+Peter was patient and tactful; he did not try to defend himself, nor
+did he ask any questions about Donald and Donald's activities. He
+simply announced that he had been studying the subject of
+militarism, and had come to a definite point of view. He was a
+Socialist and an Internationalist; he considered America's entry
+into the war a crime, and he was willing to do his part in agitating
+against it. He was going to take his stand as a conscientious
+objector; they might send him to jail if they pleased, or even stand
+him against a wall and shoot him, but they would never get him to
+put on a uniform.
+
+It was impossible for Donald Gordon to hold out against a man who
+talked like that; a man who looked him in the eye and expressed his
+convictions so simply and honestly. And that evening Peter went to a
+meeting of Local American City of the Socialist Party, and renewed
+his acquaintance with all the comrades. He didn't make a speech or
+do anything conspicuous, but simply got into the spirit of things;
+and next day he managed to meet some of the members, and whenever
+and wherever he was asked, he expressed his convictions as a
+conscientious objector. So before a week had passed Peter found that
+he was being tolerated, that nobody was going to denounce him as a
+traitor, or kick him out of the room.
+
+At the next weekly meeting of Local American City, Peter ventured to
+say a few words. It was a red-hot meeting, at which the war and the
+draft were the sole subjects of discussion. There were some Germans
+in the local, some Irishmen, and one or two Hindoos; they,
+naturally, were all ardent pacifists. Also there were agitators of
+what was coming to be called the "left wing"; the group within the
+party who considered it too conservative, and were always clamoring
+for more radical declarations, for "mass action" and general strikes
+and appeals to the proletariat to rise forthwith and break their
+chains. These were days of great events; the Russian revolution had
+electrified the world, and these comrades of the "left wing" felt
+themselves lifted upon pinions of hope.
+
+Peter spoke as one who had been out on the road, meeting the rank
+and file; he could speak for the men on the job. What was the use of
+opposing the draft here in a hall, where nobody but party members
+were present? What was wanted was for them to lift up their voices
+on the street, to awaken the people before it was too late! Was
+there anybody in this gathering bold enough to organize a street
+meeting?
+
+There were some who could not resist this challenge, and in a few
+minutes Peter had secured the pledges of half a dozen young
+hot-heads, Donald Gordon among them. Before the evening was past it
+had been arranged that these would-be-martyrs should hire a truck,
+and make their debut on Main Street the very next evening. Old hands
+in the movement warned them that they would only get their heads
+cracked by the police. But the answer to that was obvious--they
+might as well get their heads cracked by the police as get them
+blown to pieces by German artillery.
+
+
+
+
+Section 32
+
+
+Peter reported to McGivney what was planned, and McGivney promised
+that the police would be on hand. Peter warned him to be careful and
+have the police be gentle; at which McGivney grinned, and answered
+that he would see to that.
+
+It was all very simple, and took less than ten minutes of time. The
+truck drew up on Main Street, and a young orator stepped forward and
+announced to his fellow citizens that the time had come for the
+workers to make known their true feelings about the draft. Never
+would free Americans permit themselves to be herded into armies and
+shipped over seas and be slaughtered for the benefit of
+international bankers. Thus far the orator had got, when a policeman
+stepped forward and ordered him to shut up. When he refused, the
+policeman tapped on the sidewalk with his stick, and a squad of
+eight or ten came round the corner, and the orator was informed that
+he was under arrest. Another orator stepped forward and took up the
+harangue, and when he also had been put under arrest, another, and
+another, until the whole six of them, including Peter, were in hand.
+
+The crowd had had no time to work up any interest one way or the
+other, A patrol-wagon was waiting, and the orators were bundled in
+and driven to the station-house, and next morning they were haled
+before a magistrate and sentenced each to fifteen days. As they had
+been expecting to get six months, they were a happy bunch of "left
+wingers."
+
+And they were still happier when they saw how they were to be
+treated in jail. Ordinarily it was the custom of the police to
+inflict all possible pain and humiliation upon the Reds. They would
+put them in the revolving tank, a huge steel structure of many cells
+which was turned round and round by a crank. In order to get into
+any cell, the whole tank had to be turned until that particular cell
+was opposite the entrance, which meant that everybody in the tank
+got a free ride, accompanied by endless groaning and scraping of
+rusty machinery; also it meant that nobody got any consecutive
+sleep. The tank was dark, too dark to read, even if they had had
+books or papers. There was nothing to do save to smoke cigarettes
+and shoot craps, and listen to the smutty stories of the criminals,
+and plot revenge against society when they got out again. But up in
+the new wing of the jail were some cells which were clean and bright
+and airy, being only three or four feet from a row of windows. In
+these cells they generally put the higher class of criminals--women
+who had cut the throats of their sweethearts, and burglars who had
+got I away with the swag, and bankers who had plundered whole
+communities. But now, to the great surprise of five out of the six
+anti-militarists, the entire party was put in one of these big
+cells, and allowed the privilege of having reading matter and of
+paying for their own food. Under these circumstances martyrdom
+became a joke, and the little party settled down to enjoy life. It
+never once occurred to them to think of Peter Gudge as the source of
+this bounty. They attributed it, as the French say, "to their
+beautiful eyes."
+
+There was Donald Gordon, who was the son of a well-to-do business
+man, and had been to college, until he was expelled for taking the
+doctrines of Christianity too literally and expounding them too
+persistently on the college campus. There was a big, brawny
+lumber-jack from the North, Jim Henderson by name, who had been
+driven out of the camps for the same reason, and had appalling
+stories to tell of the cruelties and hardships of the life of a
+logger. There was a Swedish sailor by the name of Gus, who had
+visited every port in the world, and a young Jewish cigar-worker who
+had never been outside of American City, but had travelled even more
+widely in his mind.
+
+The sixth man was the strangest character of all to Peter; a shy,
+dreamy fellow with eyes so full of pain and a face so altogether
+mournful that it hurt to look at him. Duggan was his name, and he
+was known in the movement as the "hobo poet." He wrote verses,
+endless verses about the lives of society's outcasts; he would get
+himself a pencil and paper and sit off in the corner of the cell by
+the hour, and the rest of the fellows, respecting his work, would
+talk in whispers so as not to disturb him. He wrote all the time
+while the others slept, it seemed to Peter. He wrote verses about
+the adventures of his fellow-prisoners, and presently he was writing
+verses about the jailers, and about other prisoners in this part of
+the jail. He would have moods of inspiration, and would make up
+topical verses as he went along; then again he would sink back into
+his despair, and say that life was hell, and making rhymes about it
+was childishness.
+
+There was no part of America that Tom Duggan hadn't visited, no
+tragedy of the life of outcasts that he hadn't seen. He was so
+saturated with it that he couldn't think of anything else. He would
+tell about men who had perished of thirst in the desert, about
+miners sealed up for weeks in an exploded mine, about matchmakers
+poisoned until their teeth fell out, and their finger nails and even
+their eyes. Peter could see no excuse for such morbidness, such
+endless harping upon the horrible things of life. It spoiled all his
+happiness in the jail--it was worse than little Jennie's talking
+about the war!
+
+
+
+
+Section 33
+
+
+One of Duggan's poems had to do with a poor devil named Slim, who
+was a "snow-eater," that is to say, a cocaine victim. This Slim
+wandered about the streets of New York in the winter-time without
+any shelter, and would get into an office building late in the
+afternoon, and hide in one of the lavatories to spend the night. If
+he lay down, he would be seen and thrown out, so his only chance was
+to sit up; but when he fell asleep, he would fall off the
+seat--therefore he carried a rope in his pocket, and would tie
+himself in a sitting position.
+
+Now what was the use of a story like that? Peter didn't want to hear
+about such people! He wanted to express his disgust; but he knew, of
+course, that he must hide it. He laughed as he exclaimed, "Christ
+Almighty, Duggan, can't you give us something with a smile? You
+don't think it's the job of Socialists to find a cure for the dope
+habit, do you? That's sure one thing that ain't caused by the profit
+system."
+
+Duggan smiled his bitterest smile. "If there's any misery in the
+world today that ain't kept alive by the profit system, I'd like to
+see it! D'you think dope sells itself? If there wasn't a profit in
+it, would it be sold to any one but doctors? Where'd you get your
+Socialism, anyhow?"
+
+So Peter beat a hasty retreat. "Oh, sure, I know all that. But here
+you're shut up in jail because you want to change things. Ain't you
+got a right to give yourself a rest while you're in?"
+
+The poet looked at him, as solemn as an owl. He shook his head.
+"No," he said. "Just because we're fixed up nice and comfortable in
+jail, have we got the right to forget the misery of those outside?"
+
+The others laughed; but Duggan did not mean to be funny at all. He
+rose slowly to his feet and with his arms outstretched, in the
+manner of one offering himself as a sacrifice, he proclaimed:
+
+"While there is a lower class, I am in it.
+
+"While there is a criminal element, I am of it.
+
+"While there is a soul in jail, I am not free."
+
+Then he sat down and buried his face in his hands. The group of
+rough fellows sat in solemn silence. Presently Gus, the Swedish
+sailor, feeling perhaps that the rebuke to Peter had been too
+severe, spoke timidly: "Comrade Gudge, he ban in jail twice
+already."
+
+So the poet looked up again. He held out his hand to Peter. "Sure, I
+know that!" he said, clasping Peter in the grip of comradeship. And
+then he added: "I'll tell you a story with a smile!"
+
+Once upon a time, it appeared, Duggan had been working in a moving
+picture studio, where they needed tramps and outcasts and all sorts
+of people for crowds. They had been making a "Preparedness" picture,
+and wanted to show the agitators and trouble-makers, mobbing the
+palace of a banker. They got two hundred bums and hoboes, and took
+them in trucks to the palace of a real banker, and on the front lawn
+the director made a speech to the crowd, explaining his ideas.
+"Now," said he, "remember, the guy that owns this house is the guy
+that's got all the wealth that you fellows have produced. You are
+down and out, and you know that he's robbed you, so you hate him.
+You gather on his lawn and you're going to mob his home; if you can
+get hold of him, you're going to tear him to bits for what he's done
+to you." So the director went on, until finally Duggan interrupted:
+"Say, boss, you don't have to teach us. This is a real palace, and
+we're real bums!"
+
+Apparently the others saw the "smile" in this story, for they
+chuckled for some time over it. But it only added to Peter's hatred
+of these Reds; it made him realize more than ever that they were a
+bunch of "sore heads," they were green and yellow with jealousy.
+Everybody that had succeeded in the world they hated--just because
+they had succeeded! Well, _they_ would never succeed; they could go
+on forever with their grouching, but the mass of the workers in
+America had a normal attitude toward the big man, who could do
+things. They did not want to wreck his palace; they admired him for
+having it, and they followed his leadership gladly.
+
+It seemed as if Henderson, the lumber-jack, had read Peter's
+thought. "My God!" he said. "What a job it is to make the workers
+class-conscious!" He sat on the edge of his cot, with his broad
+shoulders bowed and his heavy brows knit in thought over the problem
+of how to increase the world's discontent. He told of one camp where
+he had worked--so hard and dangerous was the toil that seven men had
+given up their lives in the course of one winter. The man who owned
+this tract, and was exploiting it, had gotten the land by the
+rankest kind of public frauds; there were filthy bunk-houses,
+vermin, rotten food, poor wages and incessant abuse. And yet, in the
+spring-time, here came the young son of this owner, on a honeymoon
+trip with his bride. "And Jesus," said Henderson, "if you could have
+seen those stiffs turn out and cheer to split their throats! They
+really meant it, you know; they just loved that pair of idle,
+good-for-nothing kids!"
+
+Gus, the sailor, spoke up, his broad, good-natured face wearing a
+grin which showed where three of his front teeth had been knocked
+out with a belaying pin. It was exactly the same with the seamen, he
+declared. They never saw the ship-owners, they didn't know even the
+names of the people who were getting the profit of their toil, but
+they had a crazy loyalty to their ship, Some old tanker would be
+sent out to sea on purpose to be sunk, so that the owners might get
+the insurance. But the poor A. Bs. would love that old tub so that
+they would go down to the bottom with her--or perhaps they would
+save her, to the owners great disgust!
+
+Thus, for hours on end, Peter had to sit listening to this ding
+donging about the wrongs of the poor and the crimes of the rich.
+Here he had been sentenced for fifteen days and nights to listen to
+Socialist wrangles! Every one of these fellows had a different idea
+of how he wanted the world to be run, and every one had a different
+idea of how to bring about the change. Life was an endless struggle
+between the haves and the have-nots, and the question of how the
+have-nots were to turn out the haves was called "tactics." When you
+talked about "tactics" you used long technical terms which made your
+conversation unintelligible to a plain, ordinary mortal. It seemed
+to Peter that every time he fell asleep it was to the music of
+proletariat and surplus value and unearned increment, possibilism
+and impossibilism, political action, direct action, mass action, and
+the perpetual circle of Syndicalist-Anarchist, Anarchist-Communist,
+Communist-Socialist and Socialist-Syndicalist.
+
+
+
+
+Section 34
+
+
+In company such as this Peter's education for the role of detective
+was completed by force, as it were. He listened to everything, and
+while he did not dare make any notes, he stored away treasures in
+his mind, and when he came out of the jail he was able to give
+McGivney a pretty complete picture of the various radical
+organizations in American City, and the attitude of each one toward
+the war.
+
+Peter found that McGivney's device had worked perfectly. Peter was
+now a martyr and a hero; his position as one of the "left wingers"
+was definitely established, and anyone who ventured to say a word
+against him would be indignantly rebuked. As a matter of fact, no
+one desired to say much. Pat McCormick, Peter's enemy, was out on an
+organizing trip among the oil workers.
+
+Duggan had apparently taken a fancy to Peter, and took him to meet
+some of his friends, who lived in an old, deserted warehouse, which
+happened to have skylights in the roof; this constituted each room a
+"studio," and various radicals rented the rooms, and lived here a
+sort of picnic existence which Peter learned was called "Bohemian."
+They were young people, most of them, with one or two old fellows,
+derelicts; they wore flannel shirts, and soft ties, or no ties at
+all, and their fingers were always smeared with paint. Their life
+requirements were simple; all they wanted was an unlimited quantity
+of canvas and paint, some cigarettes, and at long intervals a pickle
+or some sauer-kraut and a bottle of beer. They would sit all day in
+front of an easel, painting the most inconceivable pictures--pink
+skies and green-faced women and purple grass and fantastic splurges
+of color which they would call anything from "The Woman with a
+Mustard Pot" to "A Nude Coming Downstairs." And there would be
+others, like Duggan, writing verses all day; pounding away on a
+typewriter, if they could manage to rent or borrow one. There were
+several who sang, and one who played the flute and caused all the
+others to tear their hair. There was a boy fresh from the country,
+who declared that he had run away from home because the family sang
+hymns all day Sunday, and never sang in tune.
+
+From people such as these you would hear the most revolutionary
+utterances; but Peter soon realized that it was mostly just talk
+with them. They would work off their frenzies with a few dashes of
+paint or some ferocious chords on the piano. The really dangerous
+ones were not here; they were hidden away in offices or dens of
+their own, where they were prompting strikes and labor agitations,
+and preparing incendiary literature to be circulated among the poor.
+
+You met such people in the Socialist local, and in the I. W. W.
+headquarters, and in numerous clubs and propaganda societies which
+Peter investigated, and to which he was welcomed as a member. In the
+Socialist local there was a fierce struggle going on over the war.
+What should be the attitude of the party? There was a group, a
+comparatively small group, which believed that the interests of
+Socialism would best be served by helping the Allies to the
+overthrow of the Kaiser. There was another group, larger and still
+more determined, which believed that the war was a conspiracy of
+allied capitalism to rivet its power upon the world, and this group
+wanted the party to stake its existence upon a struggle against
+American participation. These two groups contested for the minds of
+the rank and file of the members, who seemed to be bewildered by the
+magnitude of the issue and the complexity of the arguments. Peter's
+orders were to go with the extreme anti-militarists; they were the
+ones whose confidence he wished to gain, also they were the
+trouble-makers of the movement, and McGivney's instructions were to
+make all the trouble possible.
+
+Over at the I. W. W. headquarters was another group whose members
+were debating their attitude to the war. Should they call strikes
+and try to cripple the leading industries of the country? Or should
+they go quietly on with their organization work, certain that in the
+end the workers would sicken of the military adventure into which
+they were being snared? Some of these "wobblies" were Socialist
+party members also, and were active in both gatherings; two of them,
+Henderson, the lumber-jack, and Gus Lindstrom, the sailor, had been
+in jail with Peter, and had been among his intimates ever since.
+
+Also Peter met the Pacifists; the "Peoples' Council," as they called
+themselves. Many of these were religious people, two or three
+clergymen, and Donald Gordon, the Quaker, and a varied assortment of
+women--sentimental young girls who shrunk from the thought of
+bloodshed, and mothers with tear-stained cheeks who did not want
+their darlings to be drafted. Peter saw right away that these
+mothers had no "conscientious objections." Each mother was thinking
+about her own son and about nothing else. Peter was irritated at
+this, and took it for his special job to see that those mother's
+darlings did their duty.
+
+He attended a gathering of Pacifists in the home of a
+school-teacher. They made heart-breaking speeches, and finally
+little Ada Ruth, the poetess, got up and wanted to know, was it all
+to end in talk, or would they organize and prepare to take some
+action against the draft? Would they not at least go out on the
+street, get up a parade with banners of protest, and go to jail as
+Comrade Peter Gudge had so nobly done?
+
+Comrade Peter was called on for "a few words." Comrade Peter
+explained that he was no speaker; after all, actions spoke louder
+than words, and he had tried to show what he believed. The others
+were made ashamed by this, and decided for a bold stand at once. Ada
+Ruth became president and Donald Gordon secretary of the
+"Anti-conscription League"--a list of whose charter members was
+turned over to McGivney the same evening.
+
+
+
+
+Section 35
+
+
+All this time the country had been going to war. The huge military
+machine was getting under way, the storm of public feeling was
+rising. Congress had voted a huge loan, a country-wide machine of
+propaganda was being organized, and the oratory of Four Minute Men
+was echoing from Maine to California. Peter read the American City
+"Times" every morning, and here were speeches of statesmen and
+sermons of clergymen, here were cartoons and editorials, all burning
+with the fervor's of patriotism. Peter absorbed these, and his soul
+became transfigured. Hitherto Peter had been living for himself; but
+there comes a time in the life of every man who can use his brain at
+all when he realizes that he is not the one thing of importance in
+the universe, the one end to be served. Peter very often suffered
+from qualms of conscience, waves of doubt as to his own
+righteousness. Peter, like every other soul that ever lived, needed
+a religion, an ideal.
+
+The Reds had a religion, as you might call it; but this religion had
+failed to attract Peter. In the first place it was low; its devotees
+were wholly lacking in the graces of life, in prestige, and that
+ease which comes with assurance of power. They were noisy in their
+fervors, and repelled Peter as much as the Holy Rollers. Also, they
+were always harping upon the sordid and painful facts of life; who
+but a pervert would listen to "sob stories," when he might have all
+the things that are glorious and shining and splendid in the world?
+
+But now here was the religion Peter wanted. These clergymen in their
+robes of snow white linen, preaching in churches with golden altars
+and stained-glass windows; these statesmen who wore the halo of
+fame, and went about with the cheering of thousands in their ears;
+these mighty captains of industry whose very names were magic--with
+power, when written on pieces of paper, to cause cities to rise in
+the desert, and then to fall again beneath a rain of shells and
+poison gas; these editors and cartoonists of the American City
+"Times," with all their wit and learning--these people all combined
+to construct for Peter a religion and an ideal, and to hand it out
+to him, ready-made and precisely fitted to his understanding. Peter
+would go right on doing the things he had been doing before; but he
+would no longer do them in the name of Peter Gudge, the ant, he
+would do them in the name of a mighty nation of a hundred and ten
+million people, with all its priceless memories of the past and its
+infinite hopes for the future; he would do them in the sacred name
+of patriotism, and the still more sacred name of democracy.
+And--most convenient of circumstances--the big business men of
+American City, who had established a secret service bureau with
+Guffey in charge of it, would go right on putting up their funds,
+and paying Peter fifty dollars a week and expenses while he served
+the holy cause!
+
+It was the fashion these days for orators and public men to vie with
+one another in expressing the extremes of patriotism, and Peter
+would read these phrases, and cherish them; they came to seem a part
+of him, he felt as if he had invented them. He became greedy for
+more and yet more of this soul-food; and there was always more to be
+had--until Peter's soul was become swollen, puffed up as with a
+bellows. Peter became a patriot of patriots, a super-patriot; Peter
+was a red-blooded American and no mollycoddle; Peter was a
+"he-American," a 100% American--and if there could have been such a
+thing as a 101% American, Peter would have been that. Peter was so
+much of an American that the very sight of a foreigner filled him
+with a fighting impulse. As for the Reds--well, Peter groped for
+quite a time before he finally came upon a formula which expressed
+his feelings. It was a famous clergyman who achieved it for
+him--saying that if he could have his way he would take all the
+Reds, and put them in a ship of stone with sails of lead, and send
+them forth with hell for their destination.
+
+So Peter chafed more and more at his inability to get action. How
+much more evidence did the secret service of the Traction Trust
+require? Peter would ask this question of McGivney again and again,
+and McGivney would answer: "Keep your shirt on. You're getting your
+pay every week. What's the matter with you?"
+
+"The matter is, I'm tired of listening to these fellows ranting,"
+Peter would say. "I want to stop their mouths."
+
+Yes, Peter had come to take it as a personal affront that these
+radicals should go on denouncing the cause which Peter had espoused.
+They all thought of Peter as a comrade, they were most friendly to
+him; but Peter had the knowledge of how they would regard him when
+they knew the real truth, and this imagined contempt burned him like
+an acid. Sometimes there would be talk about spies and informers,
+and then these people would exhaust their vocabulary of abuse, and
+Peter, of course, would apply every word of it to himself and become
+wild with anger. He would long to answer back; he was waiting for
+the day when he might vindicate himself and his cause by smashing
+these Reds in the mouth.
+
+
+
+
+Section 36
+
+
+"Well," said McGivney one day, "I've got something interesting for
+you now. You're going into high society for a while!"
+
+And the rat-faced man explained that there was a young man in a
+neighboring city, reputed to be a multi-millionaire, who had written
+a book against the war, and was the financial source of much
+pacificism and sedition. "These people are spending lots of money
+for printing," said McGivney, "and we hear this fellow Lackman is
+putting it up. We've learned that he is to be in town tomorrow, and
+we want you to find out all about his affairs."
+
+So Peter was to meet a millionaire! Peter had never known one of
+these fortunate beings, but he was for them--he had always been for
+them. Ever since he had learned to read, he had liked to find
+stories about them in the newspapers, with pictures of them and
+their palaces. He had read these stories as a child reads fairy
+tales. They were his creatures of dreams, belonging to a world above
+reality, above pain and inconvenience.
+
+And then in the days when Peter had been a servant in the Temple of
+Jimjambo, devoted to the cult of Eleutherinian Exoticism, he had
+found hanging in the main assembly room a picture labelled, "Mount
+Olympus," showing a dozen gods and goddesses reclining at ease on
+silken couches, sipping nectar from golden goblets and gazing down
+upon the far-off troubles of the world. Peter would peer from behind
+the curtains and see the Chief Magistrian emerging from behind the
+seven mystic veils, lifting his rolling voice and in a kind of chant
+expounding life to his flock of adoring society ladies. He would
+point to the picture and explain those golden, Olympian days when
+the Eleutherinian cult had originated. The world had changed much
+since then, and for the worse; those who had power must take it as
+their task to restore beauty and splendor to the world, and to
+develop the gracious possibilities of being.
+
+Peter, of course, hadn't really believed in anything that went on in
+the Temple of Jimjambo; and yet he had been awed by its richness,
+and by the undoubtedly exclusive character of its worshippers; he
+had got the idea definitely fixed in his head that there really had
+been a Mount Olympus, and when he tried to imagine the millionaires
+and their ways, it was these gods and goddesses, reclining on silken
+couches and sipping nectar, that came to his mind!
+
+Now since Peter had come to know the Reds, who wanted to blow up the
+palaces of the millionaires, he was more than ever on the side of
+his gods and goddesses. His fervors for them increased every time he
+heard them assailed; he wanted to meet some of them, and
+passionately, yet respectfully, pour out to them his allegiance. A
+glow of satisfaction came over him as he pictured himself in some
+palace, lounging upon a silken conch and explaining to a millionaire
+his understanding of the value of beauty and splendor in the world.
+
+And now he was to meet one; it was to be a part of his job to
+cultivate one! True, there was something wrong with this particular
+millionaire--he was one of those freaks who for some reason beyond
+imagining gave their sympathy to the dynamiters and assassins. Peter
+had met "Parlor Reds" at the home of the Todd sisters; the large
+shining ladies who came in large shining cars to hear him tell of
+his jail experiences. But he hadn't been sure as to whether they
+were really millionaires or not, and Sadie, when he had inquired
+particularly, had answered vaguely that every one in the radical
+movement who could afford an automobile or a dress-suit was called a
+millionaire by the newspapers.
+
+But young Lackman was a real millionaire, McGivney positively
+assured him; and so Peter was free to admire him in spite of all his
+freak ideas, which the rat-faced man explained with intense
+amusement. Young Lackman conducted a school for boys, and when one
+of the boys did wrong, the teacher would punish himself instead of
+the boy! Peter must pretend to be interested in this kind of
+"education," said McGivney, and he must learn at least the names of
+Lackman's books.
+
+"But will he pay any attention to me?" demanded Peter.
+
+"Sure, he will," said McGivney. "That's the point--you've been in
+jail, you've really done something as a pacifist. What you want to
+do is to try to interest him in your Anti-conscription League. Tell
+him you want to make it into a national organization, you want to
+get something done besides talking."
+
+The address of young Lackman was the Hotel de Soto; and as he heard
+this, Peter's heart gave a leap. The Hotel de Soto was the Mount
+Olympus of American City! Peter had walked by the vast white
+structure, and seen the bronze doors swing outward, and the favored
+ones of the earth emerging to their magic chariots; but never had it
+occurred to him that he might pass thru those bronze doors, and gaze
+upon those hidden mysteries!
+
+"Will they let me in?" he asked McGivney, and the other laughed.
+"Just walk in as if you owned the place," he said. "Hold up your
+head, and pretend you've lived there all your life."
+
+That was easy for McGivney to say, but not so easy for Peter to
+imagine. However, he would try it; McGivney must be right, for it
+was the same thing Mrs. James had impressed upon him many times. You
+must watch what other people did, and practice by yourself, and then
+go in and do it as if you had never done anything else. All life was
+a gigantic bluff, and you encouraged yourself in your bluffing by
+the certainty that everybody else was bluffing just as hard.
+
+At seven o'clock that evening Peter strolled up to the magic bronze
+doors, and touched them; and sure enough, the blue-uniformed
+guardians drew them back without a word, and the tiny brass-button
+imps never even glanced at Peter as he strode up to the desk and
+asked for Mr. Lackman.
+
+The haughty clerk passed him on to a still more haughty telephone
+operator, who condescended to speak into her trumpet, and then
+informed him that Mr. Lackman was out; he had left word that he
+would return at eight. Peter was about to go out and wander about
+the streets for an hour, when he suddenly remembered that everybody
+else was bluffing; so he marched across the lobby and seated himself
+in one of the huge leather arm-chairs, big enough to hold three of
+him. There he sat, and continued to sit--and nobody said a word!
+
+
+
+
+Section 37
+
+
+Yes, this was Mount Olympus, and here were the gods: the female ones
+in a state of divine semi-nudity, the male ones mostly clad in black
+coats with pleated shirt-fronts puffing out. Every time one of them
+moved up to the desk Peter would watch and wonder, was this Mr.
+Lackman? He might have been able to pick out a millionaire from an
+ordinary crowd; but here every male god was got up for the precise
+purpose of looking like a millionaire, so Peter's job was an
+impossible one.
+
+In front of him across the lobby floor there arose a ten-foot pillar
+to a far-distant roof. This pillar was of pale, green-streaked
+marble, and Peter's eyes followed it to the top, where it exploded
+in a snow-white cloud-burst, full of fascination. There were four
+cornucopias, one at each corner, and out of each cornucopia came
+tangled ropes of roses, and out of these roses came other ropes,
+with what appeared to be apples and leaves, and still more roses,
+and still more emerging ropes, spreading in a tangle over the
+ceiling. Here and there, in the midst of all this splendor, was the
+large, placidly smiling face of a boy angel; four of these placidly
+smiling boy angels gazed from the four sides of the snow-white
+cloud-burst, and Peter's eye roamed from one to another, fascinated
+by the mathematics of this architectural marvel. There were fourteen
+columns in a row, and four such rows in the lobby. That made
+fifty-six columns in all, or two hundred and twenty-four boy angels'
+heads. How many cornucopias and how many roses and how many apples
+it meant, defied all calculation. The boy angels' heads were exactly
+alike, every head with the same size and quality of smile; and Peter
+marvelled--how many days would it take a sculptor to carve the
+details of two hundred and twenty-four boy angel smiles?
+
+All over the Hotel de Soto was this same kind of sumptuous
+magnificence; and Peter experienced the mental effect which it was
+contrived to produce upon him--a sense of bedazzlement and awe, a
+realization that those who dwelt in the midst of this splendor were
+people to whom money was nothing, who could pour out treasures in a
+never-ceasing flood. And everything else about the place was of the
+same character, contrived for the same effect--even the gods and the
+goddesses! One would sweep by with a tiara of jewels in her hair;
+you might amuse yourself by figuring out the number of the jewels,
+as you had figured out the number of the boy angels' heads. Or you
+might take her gown of black lace, embroidered with golden
+butterflies, every one patiently done by hand; you might figure--so
+many yards of material, and so many golden butterflies to the yard!
+You might count the number of sparkling points upon her jet
+slippers, or trace the intricate designs upon her almost transparent
+stockings--only there was an inch or two of the stockings which you
+could not see.
+
+Peter watched these gorgeous divinities emerge from the elevators,
+and sweep their way into the dining-room beyond. Some people might
+have been shocked by their costumes; but to Peter, who had the
+picture of Mount Olympus in mind, they seemed most proper. It all
+depended on the point of view: whether you thought of a goddess as
+fully clothed from chin to toes, and proceeded with a pair of shears
+to cut away so much of her costume, or whether you imagined the
+goddess in a state of nature, and proceeded to put veils of gauze
+about her, and a ribbon over each shoulder to hold the veils in
+place.
+
+Twice Peter went to the desk, to inquire if Mr. Lackman had come in
+yet; but still he had not come; and Peter--growing bolder, like the
+fox who spoke to the lion--strolled about the lobby, gazing at the
+groups of gods at ease. He had noticed a great balcony around all
+four sides of this lobby, the "mezzanine floor," as it was called;
+he decided he would see what was up there, and climbed the white
+marble stairs, and beheld more rows of chairs and couches, done in
+dark grey velvet. Here, evidently, was where the female gods came to
+linger, and Peter seated himself as unobtrusively as possible, and
+watched.
+
+Directly in front of him sat a divinity, lolling on a velvet couch
+with one bare white arm stretched out. It was a large stout arm, and
+the possessor was large and stout, with pale golden hair and many
+sparkling jewels. Her glance roamed lazily from place to place. It
+rested for an instant on Peter, and then moved on, and Peter felt
+the comment upon his own insignificance.
+
+Nevertheless, he continued to steal glances now and then, and
+presently saw an interesting sight. In her lap this Juno had a
+gold-embroidered bag, and she opened it, disclosing a collection of
+mysterious apparatus of which she proceeded to make use: first a
+little gold hand-mirror, in which she studied her charms; then a
+little white powder-puff with which she deftly tapped her nose and
+cheeks; then some kind of red pencil with which she proceeded to rub
+her lips; then a golden pencil with which she lightly touched her
+eyebrows. Then it seemed as if she must have discovered a little
+hair which had grown since she left her dressing-room. Peter
+couldn't be sure, but she had a little pair of tweezers, and seemed
+to pull something out of her chin. She went on with quite an
+elaborate and complicated toilet, paying meantime not the slightest
+attention to the people passing by.
+
+Peter looked farther, and saw that just as when one person sneezes
+or yawns everybody else in the room is irresistibly impelled to
+sneeze or yawn, so all these Dianas and Junos and Hebes on the
+"mezzanine floor" had suddenly remembered their little gold or
+silver hand-mirrors, their powder-puffs and red or golden or black
+pencils. One after another, the little vanity-bags came forth, and
+Peter, gazing in wonder, thought that Mount Olympus had turned into
+a beauty parlor.
+
+Peter rose again and strolled and watched the goddesses, big and
+little, old and young, fat and thin, pretty and ugly--and it seemed
+to him the fatter and older and uglier they were, the more intently
+they gazed into the little hand-mirrors. He watched them with hungry
+eyes, for he knew that here he was in the midst of high life, the
+real thing, the utmost glory to which man could ever hope to attain,
+and he wanted to know all there was to know about it. He strolled
+on, innocent and unsuspecting, and the two hundred and twenty-four
+white boy angels in the ceiling smiled their bland and placid smiles
+at him, and Peter knew no more than they what complications fate had
+prepared for him on that mezzanine floor!
+
+On one of the big lounges there sat a girl, a radiant creature from
+the Emerald Isles, with hair like sunrise and cheeks like apples.
+Peter took one glance at her, and his heart missed three successive
+beats, and then, to make up for lost time, began leaping like a
+runaway race-horse. He could hardly believe what his eyes told him;
+but his eyes insisted, his eyes knew; yes, his eyes had gazed for
+hours and hours on end upon that hair like sunrise and those cheeks
+like apples. The girl was Nell, the chambermaid of the Temple of
+Jimjambo!
+
+She had not looked Peter's way, so there was time for him to start
+back and hide himself behind a pillar; there he stood, peering out
+and watching her profile, still arguing with his eyes. It couldn't
+be Nell; and yet it was! Nell transfigured, Nell translated to
+Olympus, turned into a goddess with a pale grey band about her
+middle, and a pale grey ribbon over each shoulder to hold it in
+place! Nell reclining at ease and chatting vivaciously to a young
+man with the face of a bulldog and the dinner-jacket of a magazine
+advertisement!
+
+Peter gazed and waited, while his heart went on misbehaving. Peter
+learned in those few fearful minutes what real love is, a most
+devastating force. Little Jennie was forgotten, Mrs. James, the
+grass widow was forgotten, and Peter knew that he had never really
+admired but one woman in the world, and that was Nell, the Irish
+chambermaid of the Temple of Jimjambo. The poets have seen fit to
+represent young love as a mischievous little archer with a sharp and
+penetrating arrow, and now Peter understood what they had meant;
+that arrow had pierced him thru, and he had to hold on to the column
+to keep himself from falling.
+
+
+
+
+Section 38
+
+
+Presently the couple rose and strolled away to the elevator, and
+Peter followed. He did not dare get into the elevator with them, for
+he had suddenly become accutely aware of the costume he was wearing
+in his role of proletarian anti-militarist! But Peter was certain
+that Nell and her escort were not going out of the building, for
+they had no hats or wraps; so he went downstairs and hunted thru the
+lobby and the dining-room, and then thru the basement, from which he
+heard strains of music. Here was another vast room, got up in mystic
+oriental fashion, with electric lights hidden in bunches of
+imitation flowers on each table. This room was called the "grill,"
+and part of it was bare for dancing, and on a little platform sat a
+band playing music.
+
+The strangest music that ever assailed human ears! If Peter had
+heard it before seeing Nell, he would not have understood it, but
+now its weird rhythms fitted exactly to the moods which were
+tormenting him. This music would groan, it would rattle and squeak;
+it would make noises like swiftly torn canvas, or like a steam siren
+in a hurry. It would climb up to the heavens and come banging down
+to hell. And every thing with queer, tormenting motions, gliding and
+writhing, wriggling, jerking, jumping. Peter would never have known
+what to make of such music, if he had not had it here made visible
+before his eyes, in the behavior of the half-naked goddesses and the
+black-coated gods on this dancing floor. These celestial ones came
+sliding across the floor like skaters, they came writhing like
+serpents, they came strutting like turkeys, jumping like rabbits,
+stalking solemnly like giraffes. They came clamped in one another's
+arms like bears trying to hug each other to death; they came
+contorting themselves as if they were boa-constrictors trying to
+swallow each other. And Peter, watching them and listening to their
+music, made a curious discovery about himself. Deeply buried in
+Peter's soul were the ghosts of all sorts of animals; Peter had once
+been a boa-constrictor, Peter had once been a bear, Peter had once
+been a rabbit and a giraffe, a turkey and a fox; and now under the
+spell of this weird music these dead creatures came to life in his
+soul. So Peter discovered the meaning of "jazz," in all its weirdly
+named and incredible varieties.
+
+Also Peter discovered that he had once been a caveman, and had hit
+his rival over the head with a stone axe and carried off his girl by
+the hair. All this he discovered while he stood in the doorway of
+the Hotel de Soto grill, and watched Nell, the ex-chambermaid of the
+Temple of Jimjambo, doing the turkey-trot and the fox-trot and the
+grizzly-bear and the bunny-hug in the arms of a young man with the
+face of a bulldog.
+
+Peter stood for a long while in a daze. Nell and the young man sat
+down at one of the tables to have a meal, but still Peter stood
+watching and trying to figure out what to do. He knew that he must
+not speak to her in his present costume; there would be no way to
+make her understand that he was only playing a role--that he who
+looked like a "dead one" was really a prosperous man of important
+affairs, a 100% red-blooded patriot disguised as a proletarian
+pacifist. No, he must wait, he must get into his best before he
+spoke to her. But meantime, she might go away, and he might not be
+able to find her again in this huge city!
+
+After an hour or two he succeeded in figuring out a way, and hurried
+upstairs to the writing-room and penned a note:
+
+"Nell: This is your old friend Peter Gudge. I have struck it rich
+and have important news for you. Be sure to send word to me. Peter."
+To this he added his address, and sealed it in an envelope to "Miss
+Nell Doolin."
+
+Then he went out into the lobby, and signalled to one of the
+brass-button imps who went about the place calling names in shrill
+sing-song; he got this youngster off in a corner and pressed a
+dollar bill into his hand. There was a young lady in the grill who
+was to have this note at once. It was very important. Would the
+brass-button imp do it?
+
+The imp said sure, and Peter stood in the doorway and watched him
+walk back and forth thru the aisles of the grill, calling in his
+shrill sing-song, "Miss Nell Doolin! Miss Nell Doolin!" He walked
+right by the table where Nell sat eating; he sang right into her
+face, it seemed to Peter; but she never gave a sign.
+
+Peter did not know what to make of it, but he was bound to get that
+note to Nell. So when the imp returned, he pointed her out, and the
+imp went again and handed the note to her. Peter saw her take
+it--then he darted away; and remembering suddenly that he was
+supposed to be on duty, be rushed back to the office and inquired
+for Mr. Lackman. To his horror he learned that Mr. Lackman had
+returned, paid his bill, and departed with his suitcase to a
+destination unknown!
+
+
+
+
+Section 39
+
+
+Peter had a midnight appointment with McGivney, and now had to go
+and admit this humiliating failure. He had done his best, he
+declared; he had inquired at the desk, and waited and waited, but
+the hotel people had failed to notify him of Lackman's arrival. All
+this was strictly true; but it did not pacify McGivney, who was in a
+black fury. "It might have been worth thousands of dollars to you!"
+he declared. "He's the biggest fish we'll ever get on our hook."
+
+"Won't he come again?" asked grief-stricken Peter.
+
+"No," declared the other. "They'll get him at his home city."
+
+"But won't that do?" asked Peter, naively.
+
+"You damned fool!" was McGivney's response. "We wanted to get him
+here, where we could pluck him ourselves."
+
+The rat-faced man hadn't intended to tell Peter so much, but in his
+rage he let it out. He and a couple of his friends had planned to
+"get something" on this young millionaire, and scare the wits out of
+him, with the idea that he would put up a good many thousand dollars
+to be let off. Peter might have had his share of this--only he had
+been fool enough to let the bird get out of his net!
+
+Peter offered to follow the young man to his home city, and find
+some way to lure him back into McGivney's power. After McGivney had
+stormed for a while, he decided that this might be possible. He
+would talk it over with the others, and let Peter know. But alas,
+when Peter picked up an afternoon newspaper next day, he read on the
+front page how young Lackman, stepping off the train in his home
+city that morning, had been placed under arrest; his school had been
+raided, and half a dozen of the teachers were in jail, and a ton of
+Red literature had been confiscated, and a swarm of dire
+conspiracies against the safety of the country had been laid bare!
+
+Peter read this news, and knew that he was in for another stormy
+hour with his boss. But he hardly gave a thought to it, because of
+something which had happened a few minutes before, something of so
+much greater importance. A messenger had brought him a special
+delivery letter, and with thumping heart he had torn it open and
+read:
+
+"All right. Meet me in the waiting-room of Guggenheim's Department
+Store at two o'clock this afternoon. But for God's sake forget Nell
+Doolin. Yours, Edythe Eustace."
+
+So here was Peter dressed in his best clothes, as for his temporary
+honeymoon with the grass widow, and on the way to the rendezvous an
+hour ahead of time. And here came Nell, also dressed, every garment
+so contrived that a single glance would tell the beholder that their
+owner was moving in the highest circles, and regardless of expense.
+Nell glanced over her shoulder now and then as she talked, and
+explained that Ted Crothers, the man with the bulldog face, was a
+terror, and it was hard to get away from him, because he had nothing
+to do all day.
+
+The waiting-room of a big department-store was not the place Peter
+would have selected for the pouring out of his heart; but he had to
+make the best of it, so he told Nell that he loved her, that he
+would never be able to love anybody else, and that he had made piles
+of money now, he was high up on the ladder of prosperity. Nell did
+not laugh at him, as she had laughed in the Temple of Jimjambo, for
+it was easily to be seen that Peter Gudge was no longer a scullion,
+but a man of the world with a fascinating air of mystery. Nell
+wanted to know forthwith what was he doing; he answered that he
+could not tell, it was a secret of the most desperate import; he was
+under oath. These were the days of German spies and bomb-plots, when
+kings and kaisers and emperors and tsars were pouring treasures into
+America for all kinds of melodramatic purposes; also the days of
+government contracts and secret deals, when in the lobbies and
+private meeting-places of hotels like the de Soto there were
+fortunes made and unmade every hour. So it was easy for Nell to
+believe in a real secret, and being a woman, she put all her
+faculties upon the job of guessing it.
+
+She did not again ask Peter to tell her; but she let him talk, and
+tactfully guided the conversation, and before long she knew that
+Peter was intimate with a great many of the most desperate Reds, and
+likewise that he knew all about the insides of the Goober case, and
+about the great men of American City who had put up a million
+dollars for the purpose of hanging Goober, and about the various
+ways in which this money had been spent and wires had been pulled to
+secure a conviction. Nell put two and two together, and before long
+she figured out that the total was four; she suddenly confronted
+Peter with this total, and Peter was dumb with consternation, and
+broke down and confessed everything, and told Nell all about his
+schemes and his achievements and his adventures--omitting only
+little Jennie and the grass widow.
+
+He told about the sums he had been making and was expecting to make;
+he told about Lackman, and showed Nell the newspaper with pictures
+of the young millionaire and his school. "What a handsome fellow!"
+said Nell. "It's a shame!"
+
+"How do you mean?" asked Peter, a little puzzled. Could it be that
+Nell had any sympathy for these Reds?
+
+"I mean," she answered, "that he'd have been worth more to you than
+all the rest put together."
+
+Nell was a woman, and her mind ran to the practical aspect of
+things. "Look here, Peter," she said, "you've been letting those
+`dicks' work you. They're getting the swag, and just giving you
+tips. What you need is somebody to take care of you."
+
+Peter's heart leaped. "Will you do it?" he cried.
+
+"I've got Ted on my hands," said the girl. "He'd cut my throat, and
+yours too, if he knew I was here. But I'll try to get myself free,
+and then maybe--I won't promise, but I'll think over your problem,
+Peter, and I'll certainly try to help, so that McGivney and Guffey
+and those fellows can't play you for a sucker any longer."
+
+She must have time to think it over, she said, and to make inquiries
+about the people involved--some of whom apparently she knew. She
+would meet Peter again the next day, and in a more private place
+than here. She named a spot in the city park which would be easy to
+find, and yet sufficiently remote for a quiet conference.
+
+
+
+
+Section 40
+
+
+Peter had been made so bold by Nell's flattery and what she had said
+about his importance, that he did not go back to McGivney to take
+his second scolding about the Lackman case. He was getting tired of
+McGivney's scoldings; if McGivney didn't like his work, let McGivney
+go and be a Red for a while himself. Peter walked the streets all
+day and a part of the night, thinking about Nell, and thrilling over
+the half promises she had made him.
+
+They met next day in the park. No one was following them, and they
+found a solitary place, and Nell let him kiss her several times, and
+in between the kisses she unfolded to him a terrifying plan. Peter
+had thought that he was something of an intriguer, but his
+self-esteem shriveled to nothingness in the presence of the superb
+conception which had come to ripeness in the space of twenty-four
+hours in the brain of Nell Doolin, alias Edythe Eustace.
+
+Peter had been doing the hard work, and these big fellows had been
+using him, handing him a tip now and then, and making fortunes out
+of the information he brought them. McGivney had let the cat out of
+the bag in this case of Lackman; you might be sure they had been
+making money, big money, out of all the other cases. What Peter must
+do was to work up something of his own, and get the real money, and
+make himself one of the big fellows. Peter had the facts, he knew
+the people; he had watched in the Goober case exactly how a
+"frame-up" was made, and now he must make one for himself, and one
+that would pay. It was a matter of duty to rid the country of all
+these Reds; but why should he not have the money as well?
+
+Nell had spent the night figuring over it, trying to pick out the
+right person. She had hit on old "Nelse" Ackerman, the banker.
+Ackerman was enormously and incredibly wealthy; he was called the
+financial king of American City. Also he was old, and Nell happened
+to know he was a coward; he was sick in bed just now, and when a man
+is sick he is still more of a coward. What Peter must do was to
+discover some kind of a bomb-plot against old "Nelse" Ackerman.
+Peter might talk up the idea among some of his Reds and get them
+interested in it, or he might frame up some letters to be found upon
+them, and hide some dynamite in their rooms. When the plot was
+discovered, it would make a frightful uproar, needless to say; the
+king would hear of it, and of Peter's part as the discoverer of it,
+and he would unquestionably reward Peter. Perhaps Peter might
+arrange to be retained as a secret agent to protect the king from
+the Reds. Thus Peter would be in touch with real money, and might
+hire Guffey and McGivney, instead of their hiring him.
+
+If Peter had stood alone, would he have dared so perilous a dream as
+this? Or was he a "piker"; a little fellow, the victim of his own
+fears and vanities? Anyhow, Peter was not alone; he had Nell, and it
+was necessary that he should pose before Nell as a bold and
+desperate blade. Just as in the old days in the Temple, it was
+necessary that Peter should get plenty of money, in order to take
+Nell away from another man. So he said all right, he would go in on
+that plan; and proceeded to discuss with Nell the various
+personalities he might use.
+
+The most likely was Pat McCormick. "Mac," with his grim, set face
+and his silent, secretive habits, fitted perfectly to Peter's
+conception of a dynamiter. Also "Mac" was Peter's personal enemy;
+"Mac" had just returned from his organizing trip in the oil fields,
+and had been denouncing Peter and gossiping about him in the various
+radical groups. "Mac" was the most dangerous Red of them all! He
+must surely be one of the dynamiters!
+
+Another likely one was Joe Angell, whom Peter had met at a recent
+gathering of Ada Ruth's "Anti-conscription League." People made
+jokes about this chap's name because he looked the part, with his
+bright blue eyes that seemed to have come out of heaven, and his
+bright golden hair, and even the memory of dimples in his cheeks.
+But when Joe opened his lips, you discovered that he was an angel
+from the nether regions. He was the boldest and most defiant of all
+the Reds that Peter had yet come upon. He had laughed at Ada Ruth
+and her sentimental literary attitude toward the subject of the
+draft. It wasn't writing poems and passing resolutions that was
+wanted; it wasn't even men who would refuse to put on the uniform,
+but men who would take the guns that were offered to them, and drill
+themselves, and at the proper time face about and use the guns in
+the other direction. Agitating and organizing were all right in
+their place, but now, when the government dared challenge the
+workers and force them into the army, it was men of action that were
+needed in the radical movement.
+
+Joe Angell had been up in the lumber country, and could tell what
+was the mood of the real workers, the "huskies" of the timberlands.
+Those fellows weren't doing any more talking; they had their secret
+committees that were ready to take charge of things as soon as they
+had put the capitalists and their governments out of business.
+Meantime, if there was a sheriff or prosecuting attorney that got
+too gay, they would "bump him off." This was a favorite phrase of
+"Blue-eyed Angell." He would use it every half hour or so as he told
+about his adventures. "Yes," he would say; "he got gay, but we
+bumped him off all right."
+
+
+
+
+Section 41
+
+
+So Nell and Peter settled down to work out the details of their
+"frame-up" on Joe Angell and Pat McCormick. Peter must get a bunch
+of them together and get them to talking about bombs and killing
+people; and then he must slip a note into the pockets of all who
+showed interest, calling them to meet for a real conspiracy. Nell
+would write the notes, so that no one could fasten the job onto
+Peter. She pulled out a pencil and a little pad from her handbag,
+and began: "If you really believe in a bold stroke for the workers'
+rights, meet me--" And then she stopped. "Where?"
+
+"In the studios," put in Peter.
+
+And Nell wrote, "In the studios. Is that enough?"
+
+"Room 17." Peter knew that this was the room of Nikitin, a Russian
+painter who called himself an Anarchist.
+
+So Nell wrote "Room 17," and after further discussion she added:
+"Tomorrow morning at eight o'clock. No names and no talk. Action!"
+This time was set because Peter recollected that there was to be a
+gathering of the "wobblies" in their headquarters this very evening.
+It was to be a business meeting, but of course these fellows never
+got together very long without starting the subject of "tactics."
+There was a considerable element among them who were dissatisfied
+with what they called the "supine attitude" of the organization, and
+were always arguing for action. Peter was sure he would be able to
+get some of them interested in the idea of a dynamite conspiracy.
+
+As it turned out, Peter had no trouble at all; the subject was
+started without his having to put in a word. Were the workers to be
+driven like sheep to the slaughter, and the "wobblies" not to make
+one move? So asked the "Blue-eyed Angell," vehemently, and added
+that if they were going to move, American City was as good a place
+as any. He had talked with enough of the rank and file to realize
+that they were ready for action; all they needed was a battle-cry
+and an organization to guide them.
+
+Henderson, the big lumber-jack, spoke up. That was just the trouble;
+you couldn't get an organization for such a purpose. The authorities
+would get spies among you, they would find out what you were doing,
+and drive you underground.
+
+"Well," cried Joe, "we'll go underground!"
+
+"Yes," agreed the other, "but then your organization goes bust.
+Nobody knows who to trust, everybody's accusing the rest of being a
+spy."
+
+"Hell!" said Joe Angell. "I've been in jail for the movement, I'll
+take my chances of anybody's calling me a spy. What I'm not going to
+do is to sit down and see the workers driven to hell, because I'm so
+damn careful about my precious organization."
+
+When others objected, Angell rushed on still more vehemently.
+Suppose they did fail in a mass-uprising, suppose they were driven
+to assassination and terrorism? At least they would teach the
+exploiters a lesson, and take a little of the joy out of their
+lives.
+
+Peter thought it would be a good idea for him to pose as a
+conservative just now. "Do you really think the capitalists would
+give up from fear?" he asked.
+
+And the other answered: "You bet I do! I tell you if we'd made it
+understood that every congressman who voted this country into war
+would be sent to the front trenches, our country would still be at
+peace."
+
+"But," put in Peter, deftly, "it ain't the congressmen. It's people
+higher up than them."
+
+"You bet," put in Gus, the Swedish sailor. "You bet you! I name you
+one dozen big fellows in dis country--you make it clear if we don't
+get peace dey all get killed--we get peace all right!"
+
+So Peter had things where he wanted them. "Who are those fellows?"
+he asked, and got the crowd arguing over names. Of course they
+didn't argue very long before somebody mentioned "Nelse" Ackerman,
+who was venomously hated by the Reds because he had put up a hundred
+thousand dollars of the Anti-Goober fund. Peter pretended not to
+know about Nelse; and Jerry Rudd, a "blanket-stiff" whose head was
+still sore from being cracked open in a recent harvesters' strike,
+remarked that by Jesus, if they'd put a few fellows like that in the
+trenches, there'd be some pacifists in Ameriky sure enough all
+right.
+
+
+It seemed almost as if Joe Angell had come there to back up Peter's
+purpose. "What we want," said he, "is a few fellows to fight as hard
+for themselves as they fight for the capitalists."
+
+"Yes," assented Henderson, grimly. "We're all so good--we wait till
+our masters tell us we can kill."
+
+That was the end of the discussion; but it seemed quite enough to
+Peter. He watched his chance, and one by one he managed to slip his
+little notes into the coat-pockets of Joe Angell, Jerry Rudd,
+Henderson, and Gus, the sailor. And then Peter made his escape,
+trembling with excitement. The great dynamite conspiracy was on!
+"They must be got rid of!" he was whispering to himself. "They must
+be got rid of by any means! It's my duty I'm doing."
+
+
+
+
+Section 42
+
+
+Peter had an appointment to meet Nell on a street corner at eleven
+o'clock that same night, and when she stepped off the street-car,
+Peter saw that she was carrying a suit-case. "Did you get your job
+done?" she asked quickly, and when Peter answered in the
+affirmative, she added: "Here's your bomb!"
+
+Peter's jaw fell. He looked so frightened that she hastened to
+reassure him. It wouldn't go off; it was only the makings of a bomb,
+three sticks of dynamite and some fuses and part of a clock. The
+dynamite was wrapped carefully, and there was no chance of its
+exploding--if he didn't drop it! But Peter wasn't much consoled. He
+had had no idea that Nell would go so far, or that he would actually
+have to handle dynamite. He wondered where and how she had got it,
+and wished to God he was out of this thing.
+
+But it was too late now, of course. Said Nell: "You've got to get
+this suit-case into the headquarters, and you've got to get it there
+without anybody seeing you. They'll be shut up pretty soon, won't
+they?"
+
+"We locked up when we left," said Peter.
+
+"And who has the key?"
+
+"Grady, the secretary."
+
+"There's no way you can get it?"
+
+"I can get into the room," said Peter, quickly. "There's a fire
+escape, and the window isn't tight. Some of us that know about it
+have got in that way when the place was locked."
+
+"All right," said Nell. "We'll wait a bit; we mustn't take chances
+of anyone coming back."
+
+They started to stroll along the street, Nell still carrying the
+suit-case, as if distrusting the state of Peter's nerves, Meantime
+she explained, "I've got two pieces of paper that we've got to plant
+in the room. One's to be torn up and thrown into the trash-basket.
+It's supposed to be part of a letter about some big plan that's to
+be pulled off, and it's signed `Mac.' That's for McCormick, of
+course. I had to type it, not having any sample of his handwriting.
+The other piece is a drawing; there's no marks to show what it is,
+but of course the police'll soon find out. It's a plan of
+old Ackerman's home, and there's a cross mark showing his
+sleeping-porch. Now, what we want to do is to fix this on McCormick.
+Is there anything in the room that belongs to him?"
+
+Peter thought, and at last remembered that in the bookshelves were
+some books which had been donated by McCormick, and which had his
+name written in. That was the trick! exclaimed Nell. They would hide
+the paper in one of these books, and when the police made a thorough
+search they would find it. Nell asked what was in these books, and
+Peter thought, and remembered that one was a book on sabotage. "Put
+the paper in that," said Nell. "When the police find it, the
+newspapers'll print the whole book."
+
+Peter's knees were trembling so that he could hardly walk, but he
+kept reminding himself that he was a "he-man," a 100% American, and
+that in these times of war every patriot must do his part. His part
+was to help rid the country of these Reds, and he must not flinch.
+They made their way to the old building in which the I. W. W.
+headquarters were located, and Peter climbed up on the fence and
+swung over to the fire-escape, and Nell very carefully handed the
+suit-case to him, and Peter opened the damaged window and slipped
+into the room.
+
+He knew just where the cupboard was, and quickly stored the
+suit-case in the corner, and piled some odds and ends of stuff in
+front of it, and threw an old piece of canvas over it. He took out
+of his right-hand pocket a typewritten letter, and tore it into
+small pieces and threw them into the trash-basket. Then he took out
+of his left-hand pocket the other paper, with the drawing of
+Ackerman's house. He went to the bookcase and with shaking fingers
+struck a match, picked out the little redbound book entitled
+"Sabotage," and stuck the paper inside, and put the book back in
+place. Then he climbed out on the fire-escape and dropped to the
+ground, jumped over the fence, and hurried down the alley to where
+Nell was waiting for him.
+
+"It's for my country!" he was whispering to himself.
+
+
+
+
+Section 43
+
+
+The job was now complete, except for getting McCormick to the
+rendezvous next morning. Nell had prepared and would mail in the
+postoffice a special delivery letter addressed to McCormick's home.
+This would be delivered about seven o'clock in the morning, and
+inside was a typewritten note, as follows:
+
+"Mac: Come to Room 17 of the studios at eight in the morning. Very
+important. Our plan is all ready, my part is done. Joe."
+
+Nell figured that McCormick would take this to be a message from
+Angell. He wouldn't know what it was about, but he'd be all the more
+certain to come and find out. The essential thing was that the raid
+by the detectives must occur the very minute the conspirators got
+together, for as soon as they compared notes they would become
+suspicious, and might scatter at once. McGivney must have his men
+ready; he must be notified and have plenty of time to get them
+ready.
+
+But there was a serious objection to this--if McGivney had time, he
+would demand a talk with Peter, and Nell was sure that Peter
+couldn't stand a cross-questioning at McGivney's hands. Peter,
+needless to say, agreed with her; his heart threatened to collapse
+at the thought of such an ordeal. What Peter really wanted to do was
+to quit the whole thing right there and then; but he dared not say
+so, he dared not face the withering scorn of his confederate. Peter
+clenched his hands and set his teeth, and when he passed a street
+light he turned his face away, so that Nell might not read the
+humiliating terror written there. But Nell read it all the same;
+Nell believed that she was dealing with a quivering, pasty-faced
+coward, and proceeded on that basis; she worked out the plans, she
+gave Peter his orders, and she stuck by him to see that he carried
+them out.
+
+Peter had McGivney's home telephone number, which he was only
+supposed to use in the most desperate emergency. He was to use it
+now, and tell McGivney that he had just caught some members of the
+I. W. W., with Pat McCormick as their leader, preparing to blow up
+some people with dynamite bombs. They had some bombs in a suit-case
+in their headquarters, and were just starting out with other bombs
+in their pockets. Peter must follow them, otherwise he would lose
+them, and some crime might be committed before he could interfere.
+McGivney must have his agents ready with automobiles to swoop down
+upon any place that Peter indicated. Peter would follow up the
+conspirators, and phone McGivney again at the first opportunity he
+could find.
+
+Nell was especially insistent that when Peter spoke to McGivney he
+must have only a moment to spare, no time for questions, and he must
+not stop to answer any. He must be in a state of trembling
+excitement; and Peter was sure that would be very easy! He rehearsed
+over to Nell every word he must say, and just how he was to cut
+short the conversation and hang up the receiver. Then he went into
+an all night drug-store just around the corner from the
+headquarters, and from a telephone booth called McGivney's home.
+
+It was an apartment house, and after some delay Peter heard the
+voice of his employer, surly with sleep. But Peter waked him up
+quickly. "Mr. McGivney, there's a dynamite plot!"
+
+"_What_?"
+
+"I. W. W. They've got bombs in a suit-case! They're starting off to
+blow somebody up tonight."
+
+"By God! What do you mean? Who?"
+
+"I dunno yet. I only heard part of it, and I've got to go. They're
+starting, I've got to follow them. I may lose them and it'll be too
+late. You hear me, I've got to follow them!"
+
+"I hear you. What do you want me to do?"
+
+"I'll phone you again the first chance I get. You have your men
+ready, a dozen of them! Have automobiles, so you can come quick. You
+get me?"
+
+"Yes, but--"
+
+"I can't talk any more, I may lose them, I haven't a second! You be
+at your phone, and have your men ready--everything ready. You get
+me?"
+
+"Yes, but listen, man! You sure you're not mistaken?"
+
+"Yes, yes, I'm sure!" cried Peter, his voice mounting in excitement.
+"They've got the dynamite, I tell you--everything! It's a man named
+Nelse."
+
+"Nelse what?"
+
+"The man they're going to kill. I've got to go now, you get ready.
+Good-bye!" And Peter hung up the receiver. He had got so excited
+over the part he was playing that he sprang up and ran out of the
+drug-store, as if he really had to catch up with some I. W. W.
+conspirators carrying a dynamite bomb!
+
+But there was Nell, and they strolled down the street again. They
+came to a small park, and sat on one of the benches, because Peter's
+legs would no longer hold him up. Nell walked about to make sure
+there was no one on any of the other benches; then she came back and
+rehearsed the next scene with Peter. They must go over it most
+carefully, because before long the time was coming when Peter
+wouldn't have Nell to coach him, and must be prepared to stand on
+his own legs. Peter knew that, and his legs failed him. He wanted to
+back down, and declare that he couldn't go ahead with it; he wanted
+to go to McGivney and confess everything. Nell divined what was
+going on in his soul, and wished to save him the humiliation of
+having it known. She sat close to him on the bench, and put her hand
+on his as she talked to him, and presently Peter felt a magic thrill
+stealing over him. He ventured to put his arm about Nell, to get
+still more of this delicious sensation; and Nell permitted the
+embraces, for the first time she even encouraged them. Peter was a
+hero now, he was undertaking a bold and desperate venture; he was
+going to put it thru like a man, and win Nell's real admiration.
+"Our country's at war!" she exclaimed. "And these devils are
+stopping it!"
+
+So pretty soon Peter was ready to face the whole world; Peter was
+ready to go himself and blow up the king of American City with a
+dynamite bomb! In that mood he stayed thru the small hours of the
+morning, sitting on the bench clasping his girl in his arms, and
+wishing she would give a little more time to heeding his
+love-making, and less to making him recite his lessons.
+
+
+
+
+Section 44
+
+
+So the day began to break and the birds to sing. The sun rose on
+Peter's face gray with exhaustion and the Irish apples in Nell's
+cheeks badly faded. But the time for action had come, and Peter went
+off to watch McCormick's home until seven o'clock, when the special
+delivery letter was due to arrive.
+
+It came on time, and Peter saw McCormick come out of the house and
+set forth in the direction of the studios. It was too early for the
+meeting, so Peter figured that he would stop to get his breakfast;
+and sure enough "Mac" turned into, a little dairy lunch, and Peter
+hastened to the nearest telephone and called his boss.
+
+"Mr. McGivney," he said, "I lost those fellows last night, but now I
+got them again. They decided not to do anything till today. They're
+having a meeting this morning and we've a chance to nab them all."
+
+"Where?" demanded McGivney.
+
+"Room seventeen in the studios; but don't let any of your men go
+near there, till I make sure the right fellows are in."
+
+"Listen here, Peter Gudge!" cried McGivney. "Is this straight goods?"
+
+"My God!" cried Peter. "What do you take me for? I tell you they've
+got loads of dynamite."
+
+"What have they done with it?"
+
+"They've got some in their headquarters. About the rest I dunno.
+They carried it off and I lost them last night. But then I found a
+note in my pocket--they were inviting me to come in."
+
+"By God!" exclaimed the rat-faced man.
+
+"We've got the whole thing, I tell you! Have you got your men ready?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+"Well then, have them come to the corner of Seventh and Washington
+Streets, and you come to Eighth and Washington. Meet me there just
+as quick as you can."
+
+"I get you," was the answer, and Peter hung up, and rushed off to
+the appointed rendezvous. He was so nervous that he had to sit on
+the steps of a building. As time passed and McGivney didn't appear,
+wild imaginings began to torment him. Maybe McGivney hadn't
+understood him correctly! Or maybe his automobile might break down!
+Or his telephone might have got out of order at precisely the
+critical moment! He and his men would arrive too late, they would
+find the trap sprung, and the prey escaped.
+
+Ten minutes passed, fifteen minutes, twenty minutes. At last an
+automobile rushed up the street, and McGivney stepped out, and the
+automobile sped on. Peter got McGivney's eye, and then stepped back
+into the shelter of a doorway. McGivney followed. "Have you got
+them?" he cried.
+
+"I d-d-dunno!" chattered Peter. "They s-s-said they were c-coming at
+eight!"
+
+"Let me see that note!" commanded McGivney; so Peter pulled out one
+of Nell's notes which he had saved for himself:
+
+"If you really believe in a bold stroke for the workers' rights,
+meet me in the studios, Room 17, tomorrow morning at eight o'clock.
+No names and no talk. Action!"
+
+"You found that in your pocket?" demanded the other.
+
+"Y-yes, sir."
+
+"And you've no idea who put it there."
+
+"N-no, but I think Joe Angell--"
+
+McGivney looked at his watch. "You've got twenty minutes yet," be
+said.
+
+"You got the dicks?" asked Peter.
+
+"A dozen of them. What's your idea now?"
+
+Peter stammered out his suggestions. There was a little grocery
+store just across the street from the entrance to the studio
+building. Peter would go in there, and pretend to get something to
+eat, and would watch thru the window, and the moment he saw the
+right men come in, he would hurry out and signal to McGivney, who
+would be in a drugstore at the next corner. McGivney must keep out
+of sight himself, because the "Reds" knew him as one of Guffey's
+agents.
+
+It wasn't necessary to repeat anything twice. McGivney was keyed up
+and ready for business, and Peter hurried down the street, and
+stepped into the little grocery store without being observed by
+anyone. He ordered some crackers and cheese, and seated himself on a
+box by the window and pretended to eat. But his hands were trembling
+so that he could hardly get the food into his mouth; and this was
+just as well, because his mouth was dry with fright, and crackers
+and cheese are articles of diet not adapted to such a condition.
+
+He kept his eyes glued on the dingy doorway of the old studio
+building, and presently--hurrah!--he saw McCormick coming down the
+street! The Irish boy turned into the building, and a couple of
+minutes later came Gus the sailor, and before another five minutes
+had passed here came Joe Angell and Henderson. They were walking
+quickly, absorbed in conversation, and Peter could imagine he heard
+them talking about those mysterious notes, and who could be the
+writer, and what the devil could they mean?
+
+Peter was now wild with nervousness; he was afraid somebody in the
+grocery store would notice him, and he made desperate efforts to eat
+the crackers and cheese, and scattered the crumbs all over himself
+and over the floor. Should he wait for Jerry Rudd, or should he take
+those he had already? He had got up and started for the door, when
+he saw the last of his victims coming down the street. Jerry was
+walking slowly, and Peter couldn't wait until he got inside. A car
+was passing, and Peter took the chance to slip out and bolt for the
+drug store. Before he had got half way there McGivney had seen him,
+and was on the run to the next corner.
+
+Peter waited only long enough to see a couple of automobiles come
+whirling down the street, packed solid with husky detectives. Then
+he turned off and hurried down a side street. He managed to get a
+couple of blocks away, and then his nerves gave way entirely, and he
+sat down on the curbstone and began to cry--just the way little
+Jennie had cried when he told her he couldn't marry her! People
+stopped to stare at him, and one benevolent old gentleman came up
+and tapped him on the shoulder and asked what was the trouble.
+Peter, between his tear-stained fingers, gasped: "My m-m-mother
+died!" And so they let him alone, and after a while he got up and
+hurried off again.
+
+
+
+
+Section 45
+
+
+Peter was now in a state of utter funk. He knew that he would have
+to face McGivney, and he just couldn't do it. All he wanted was
+Nell; and Nell, knowing that he would want her, had agreed to be in
+the park at half past eight. She had warned him not to talk to a
+soul until he had talked to her. Meantime she had gone home and
+renewed her Irish roses with French rouge, and restored her energy
+with coffee and cigarettes, and now she was waiting for him, smiling
+serenely, as fresh as any bird or flower in the park that summer
+morning. She asked him in even tones how things had gone, and when
+Peter began to stammer that he didn't think he could face McGivney,
+she proceeded to build up his courage once more. She let him put his
+arms about her, even there in broad daylight; she whispered to him
+to get himself together, to be a man, and worthy of her.
+
+What had he to be afraid of, anyway? They hadn't a single thing on
+him, and there was no possible way they could get anything. His
+hands were clean all the way thru, and all he had to do was to stick
+it out; he must make up his mind in advance, that no matter what
+happened, he would never break down, he would never vary from the
+story he had rehearsed with her. She made him go over the story
+again; how on the previous evening, at the gathering in the I. W. W.
+headquarters, they had talked about killing Nelse Ackerman as a
+means of bringing the war to an end. And after the talk he had heard
+Joe Angell whisper to Jerry Rudd that he had the makings of a bomb
+already; he had a suit-case full of dynamite stored there in the
+closet, and he and Pat McCormick had been planning to pull off
+something that very night. Peter had gone out, but had watched
+outside, and had seen Angell, Henderson, Rudd and Gus come out.
+Peter had noticed that Angell's pockets were stuffed, and had
+assumed that they were going to do their dynamiting, so he had
+phoned to McGivney from the drug-store. By this phoning he had
+missed the crowd, and then he had been ashamed and afraid to tell
+McGivney, and had spent the night wandering in the park. But early
+in the morning he had found the note, and had understood that it
+must have been slipped into his pocket, and that the conspirators
+wanted him to come in on their scheme. That was all, except for
+three or four sentences or fragments of sentences which Peter had
+overheard between Joe Angell and Jerry Rudd. Nell made him learn
+these sentences by heart, and she insisted that he must not under
+any circumstances try to remember or be persuaded to remember
+anything further.
+
+At last Peter was adjudged ready for the ordeal, and went to Room
+427 in the American House, and threw himself on the bed. He was so
+exhausted that once or twice he dozed; but then he would think of
+some new question that McGivney might ask him, and would start into
+wakefulness. At last he heard a key turn, and started up. There
+entered one of the detectives, a man named Hammett. "Hello, Gudge,"
+said he. "The boss wants you to get arrested."
+
+"Arrested!" exclaimed Peter. "Good Lord!" He had a sudden swift
+vision of himself shut up in a cell with those Reds, and forced to
+listen to "hard luck stories."
+
+"Well," said Hammett, "we're arresting all the Reds, and if we skip
+you, they'll be suspicious. You better go somewhere right away and
+get caught."
+
+Peter saw the wisdom of this, and after a little thought he chose
+the home of Miriam Yankovitch. She was a real Red, and didn't like
+him; but if he was arrested in her home, she would have to like him,
+and it would tend to make him "solid" with the "left wingers." He
+gave the address to Hammett, and added, "You better come as soon as
+you can, because she may kick me out of the house."
+
+"That's all right," replied the other, with a laugh. "Tell her the
+police are after you, and ask her to hide you."
+
+So Peter hurried over to the Jewish quarter of the city, and knocked
+on a door in the top story of a tenement house. The door was opened
+by a stout woman with her sleeves rolled up and her arms covered
+with soap-suds. Yes, Miriam was in. She was out of a job just now,
+said Mrs. Yankovitch. They had fired her because she talked
+Socialism. Miriam entered the room, giving the unexpected visitor a
+cold stare that said as plain as words: "Jennie Todd!"
+
+But this changed at once when Peter told her that he had been to I.
+W. W. headquarters and found the police in charge. They had made a
+raid, and claimed to have discovered some kind of plot; fortunately
+Peter had seen the crowd outside, and had got away. Miriam took him
+into an inside room and asked him a hundred questions which he could
+not answer. He knew nothing, except that he had been to a meeting at
+headquarters the night before, and this morning he had gone there to
+get a book, and had seen the crowd and run.
+
+Half an hour later came a bang on the door, and Peter dived under
+the bed. The door was burst open, and he heard angry voices
+commanding, and vehement protests from Miriam and her mother. To
+judge from the sounds, the men began throwing the furniture this way
+and that; suddenly a hand came under the bed, and Peter was grabbed
+by the ankle, and hauled forth to confront four policemen in
+uniform.
+
+It was an awkward situation, because apparently these policemen
+hadn't been told that Peter was a spy; the boobs thought they were
+getting a real dynamiter! One grabbed each of Peter's wrists, and
+another kept him and Miriam covered with a revolver, while the
+fourth proceeded to go thru his pockets, looking for bombs. When
+they didn't find any, they seemed vexed, and shook him and hustled
+him about, and made clear they would be glad of some pretext to
+batter in his head. Peter was careful not to give them such a
+pretext; he was frightened and humble, and kept declaring that he
+didn't know anything, he hadn't done any harm.
+
+"We'll see about that, young fellow!" said the officer, as he
+snapped the handcuffs on Peter's wrists. Then, while one of them
+remained on guard with the revolver, the other three proceeded to
+ransack the place, pulling out the bureau-drawers and kicking the
+contents this way and that, grabbing every scrap of writing they
+could find and jamming it into a couple of suit-cases. There were
+books with red bindings and terrifying titles, but no bombs, and no
+weapons more dangerous than a carving knife and Miriam's tongue. The
+girl stood there with her black eyes flashing lightnings, and told
+the police exactly what she thought of them. She didn't know what
+had happened in the I. W. W. headquarters, but she knew that
+whatever it was, it was a frame-up, and she dared them to arrest
+her, and almost succeeded in her fierce purpose. However, the police
+contented themselves with kicking over the washtub and its contents,
+and took their departure, leaving Mrs. Yankovitch screaming in the
+midst of a flood.
+
+
+
+
+Section 46
+
+
+They dragged Peter out thru a swarming tenement crowd, and clapped
+him into an automobile, and whirled him away to police headquarters,
+where they entered him in due form and put him in a cell. He was
+uneasy right away, because he had failed to arrange with Hammett how
+long he was to stay locked up. But barely an hour had passed before
+a jailer came, and took him to a private room, where he found
+himself confronted by McGivney and Hammett, also the Chief of Police
+of the city, a deputy district attorney, and last but most important
+of all--Guffey. It was the head detective of the Traction Trust who
+took Peter in charge.
+
+"Now, Gudge," said he, "what's this job you've been putting up on
+us?"
+
+It struck Peter like a blow in the face. His heart went down, his
+jaw dropped, he stared like an idiot. Good God!
+
+But he remembered Nell's last solemn words: "Stick it out, Peter;
+stick it out!" So he cried: "What do you mean, Mr. Guffey?"
+
+"Sit down in that chair there," said Guffey. "Now, tell us what you
+know about this whole business. Begin at the beginning and tell us
+everything--every word." So Peter began. He had been at a meeting at
+the I. W. W. headquarters the previous evening. There had been a
+long talk about the inactivity of the organization, and what could
+be done to oppose the draft. Peter detailed the arguments, the
+discussion of violence, of dynamite and killing, the mention of
+Nelse Ackerman and the other capitalists who were to be put out of
+the way. He embellished all this, and exaggerated it greatly--it
+being the one place where Nell had said he could do no harm by
+exaggerating.
+
+Then he told how after the meeting had broken up he had noticed
+several of the men whispering among themselves. By pretending to be
+getting a book from the bookcase he had got close to Joe Angell and
+Jerry Rudd; he had heard various words and fragments of sentences,
+"dynamite," "suit-case in the cupboard," "Nelse," and so on. And
+when the crowd went out he noticed that Angell's pockets were
+bulging, and assumed that he had the bombs, and that they were going
+to do the job. He rushed to the drug-store and phoned McGivney. It
+took a long time to get McGivney, and when he had given his message
+and run out again, the crowd was out of sight. Peter was in despair,
+he was ashamed to confront McGivney, he wandered about the streets
+for hours looking for the crowd. He spent the rest of the night in
+the park. But then in the morning he discovered the piece of paper
+in his pocket, and understood that somebody had slipped it to him,
+intending to invite him to the conspiracy; so he had notified
+McGivney, and that was all he knew.
+
+McGivney began to cross-question him. He had heard Joe Angell
+talking to Jerry Rudd; had he heard him talking to anybody else? Had
+he heard any of the others talking? Just what had he heard Joe
+Angell say? Peter must repeat every word all over. This time, as
+instructed by Nell, he remembered one sentence more, and repeated
+this sentence: "Mac put it in the `sab-cat.'" He saw the others
+exchange glances. "That's just what I heard," said Peter--"just those
+words. I couldn't figure out what they meant?"
+
+"Sab-cat?" said the Chief of Police, a burly figure with a brown
+moustache and a quid of tobacco tucked in the corner of his mouth.
+"That means `sabotage,' don't it?"
+
+"Yes," said the rat-faced man.
+
+"Do you know anything in the office that has to do with sabotage?"
+demanded Guffey of Peter.
+
+And Peter thought. "No, I don't," he said.
+
+They talked among themselves for a minute or two. The Chief said
+they had got all McCormick's things out of his room, and might find
+some clue to the mystery in these. Guffey went to the telephone, and
+gave a number with which Peter was familiar--that of I. W. W.
+headquarters. "That you, Al?" he said. "We're trying to find if
+there's something in those rooms that has to do with sabotage. Have
+you found anything--any apparatus or pictures, or writing--anything?"
+Evidently the answer was in the negative, for Guffey said: "Go
+ahead, look farther; if you get anything, call me at the chief's
+office quick. It may give us a lead."
+
+Then Guffey hung up the receiver and turned to Peter. "Now Gudge,"
+he said, "that's all your story, is it; that's all you got to tell
+us?"
+
+"Yes, sir."
+
+"Well then, you might as well quit your fooling right away. We
+understand that you framed this thing up, and we're not going to be
+taken in."
+
+Peter stared at Guffey, speechless; and Guffey, for his part, took a
+couple of steps toward Peter, his brows gathering into a terrible
+frown, and his fists clenched. In a wave of sickening horror Peter
+remembered the scenes after the Preparedness Day explosion. Were
+they going to put him thru that again?
+
+"We'll have a show-down, Gudge, right here," the head detective
+continued. "You tell us all this stuff about Angell--his talk with
+Jerry Rudd, and his pockets stuffed with bombs and all the rest of
+it--and he denies every word of it."
+
+"But, m-m-my God! Mr. Guffey," gasped Peter. "Of _course_ he'll deny
+it!" Peter could hardly believe his ears--that they were taking
+seriously the denial of a dynamiter, and quoting it to him!
+
+"Yes, Gudge," responded Guffey, "but you might as well know the
+truth now as later--Angell is one of our men; we've had him planted
+on these `wobblies' for the last year."
+
+The bottom fell out of Peter's world; Peter went tumbling heels over
+head--down, down into infinite abysses of horror and despair. Joe
+Angell was a secret agent like himself! The Blue-eyed Angell, who
+talked dynamite and assassination at a hundred radical gatherings,
+who shocked the boldest revolutionists by his reckless
+language--Angell a spy, and Peter had proceeded to plant a
+"frame-up" on him!
+
+
+
+
+Section 47
+
+
+It was all up with Peter. He would go back into the hole! He would
+be tortured for the balance of his days! In his ears rang the
+shrieks of ten thousand lost souls and the clang of ten thousand
+trumpets of doom; and yet, in the midst of all the noise and
+confusion, Peter managed somehow to hear the voice of Nell,
+whispering over and over again: "Stick it out, Peter; stick it out!"
+
+He flung out his hands and started toward his accuser. "Mr. Guffey,
+as God is my witness, I don't know a thing about it but what I've
+told you. That's what happened, and if Joe Angell tells you anything
+different he's lying."
+
+"But why should he lie?"
+
+"I don't know why; I don't know anything about it!"
+
+Here was where Peter reaped the advantage of his lifelong training
+as an intriguer. In the midst of all his fright and his despair,
+Peter's subconscious mind was working, thinking of schemes. "Maybe
+Angell was framing something up on you! Maybe he was fixing some
+plan of his own, and I come along and spoiled it; I sprung it too
+soon. But I tell you it's straight goods I've given you." And
+Peter's very anguish gave him the vehemence to check Guffey's
+certainty. As he rushed on, Peter could read in the eyes of the
+detective that he wasn't really as sure as he talked.
+
+"Did you see that suit-case?" he demanded.
+
+"No, I didn't see no suit-case!" answered Peter. "I don't even know
+if there was a suit-case. I only know I heard Joe Angell say
+`suit-case,' and I heard him say `dynamite.'"
+
+"Did you see anybody writing anything in the place?"
+
+"No, I didn't," said Peter. "But I seen Henderson sitting at the
+table working at some papers he had in his pocket, and I seen him
+tear something up and throw it into the trash-basket." Peter saw the
+others look at one another, and he knew that he was beginning to
+make headway.
+
+A moment later came a diversion that helped to save him. The
+telephone rang, and the Chief of Police answered and nodded to
+Guffey, who came and took the receiver. "A book?" he cried, with
+excitement in his tone. "What sort of a plan? Well, tell one of your
+men to take the car and bring that book and the plan here to the
+chief's office as quick as he can move; don't lose a moment,
+everything may depend on it."
+
+And then Guffey turned to the others. "He says they found a book on
+sabotage in the book-case, and in it there's some kind of a drawing
+of a house. The book has McCormick's name in it."
+
+There were many exclamations over this, and Peter had time to think
+before the company turned upon him again. The Chief of Police now
+questioned him, and then the deputy of the district attorney
+questioned him; still he stuck to his story. "My God!" he cried.
+"Would you think I'd be mad enough to frame up a job like this?
+Where'd I get all that stuff? Where'd I get that dynamite?"--Peter
+almost bit off his tongue as he realized the dreadful slip he had
+made. No one had ever told him that the suit-case actually contained
+dynamite! How had he known there was dynamite in it? He was
+desperately trying to think of some way he could have heard; but, as
+it happened, no one of the five men caught him up. They all knew
+that there was dynamite in the suit-case; they knew it with
+overwhelming and tremendous certainty, and they overlooked entirely
+the fact that Peter wasn't supposed to know it. So close to the edge
+of ruin can a man come and yet escape!
+
+Peter made haste to get away from that danger-spot. "Does Joe Angell
+deny that he was whispering to Jerry Rudd?"
+
+"He doesn't remember that," said Guffey. "He may have talked with
+him apart, but nothing special, there wasn't any conspiracy."
+
+"Does he deny that he talked about dynamite?"
+
+"They may have talked about it in the general discussion, but he
+didn't whisper anything."
+
+"But I heard him!" cried Peter, whose quick wits had thought up a
+way of escape, "I know what I heard! It was just before they were
+leaving, and somebody had turned out some of the lights. He was
+standing with his back to me, and I went over to the book-case right
+behind him."
+
+Here the deputy district attorney put in. He was a young man, a
+trifle easier to fool than the others. "Are you sure it was Joe
+Angell?" he demanded.
+
+"My God! Of course it was!" said Peter. "I couldn't have been
+mistaken." But he let his voice die away, and a note of bewilderment
+be heard in it.
+
+"You say he was whispering?"
+
+"Yes, he was whispering."
+
+"But mightn't it have been somebody else?"
+
+"Why, I don't know what to say," said Peter. "I thought for sure it
+was Joe Angell; but I had my back turned, I'd been talking to Grady,
+the secretary, and then I turned around and moved over to the
+book-case."
+
+"How many men were there in the room?"
+
+"About twenty, I guess."
+
+"Were the lights turned off before you turned around, or after?"
+
+"I don't remember that; it might have been after." And suddenly poor
+bewildered Peter cried: "It makes me feel like a fool. Of course I
+ought to have talked to the fellow, and made sure it was Joe Angell
+before I turned away again; but I thought sure it was him. The idea
+it could be anybody else never crossed my mind."
+
+"But you're sure it was Jerry Rudd that was talking to him?"
+
+"Yes, it was Jerry Rudd, because his face was toward me."
+
+"Was it Rudd or was it the other fellow that made the reply about
+the `sab-cat'?" And then Peter was bewildered and tied himself up,
+and led them into a long process of cross-questioning; and in the
+middle of it came the detective, bringing the book on sabotage with
+McCormick's name written in the fly-leaf, and with the ground plan
+of a house between the pages.
+
+They all crowded around to look at the plan, and the idea occurred
+to several of them at once: Could it be Nelse Ackerman's house? The
+Chief of Police turned to his phone, and called up the great
+banker's secretary. Would he please describe Mr. Ackerman's house;
+and the chief listened to the description. "There's a cross mark on
+this plan--the north side of the house, a little to the west of the
+center. What could that be?" Then, "My God!" And then, "Will you
+come down here to my office right away and bring the architect's
+plan of the house so we can compare them?" The Chief turned to the
+others, and said, "That cross mark in the house is the sleeping
+porch on the second floor where Mr. Ackerman sleeps!"
+
+So then they forgot for a while their doubts about Peter. It was
+fascinating, this work of tracing out the details of the conspiracy,
+and fitting them together like a picture puzzle. It seemed quite
+certain to all of them that this insignificant and scared little man
+whom they had been examining could never have prepared so ingenious
+and intricate a design. No, it must really be that some master mind,
+some devilish intriguer was at work to spread red ruin in American
+City!
+
+
+
+
+Section 48
+
+
+They dismissed Peter for the present, sending him back to his cell.
+He stayed there for two days with no one to advise him, and no hint
+as to his fate. They did not allow newspapers in the jail, but they
+had left Peter his money, and so on the second day he succeeded in
+bribing one of his keepers and obtaining a copy of the American City
+"Times," with all the details of the amazing sensation spread out on
+the front page.
+
+For thirty years the "Times" had been standing for law and order
+against all the forces of red riot and revolution; for thirty years
+the "Times" had been declaring that labor leaders and walking
+delegates and Socialists and Anarchists were all one and the same
+thing, and all placed their reliance fundamentally upon one
+instrument, the dynamite bomb. Here at last the "Times" was
+vindicated, this was the "Times" great day! They had made the most
+of it, not merely on the front page, but on two other pages, with
+pictures of all the conspicuous conspirators, including Peter, and
+pictures of the I. W. W. headquarters, and the suit-case, and the
+sticks of dynamite and the fuses and the clock; also of the "studio"
+in which the Reds had been trapped, and of Nikitin, the Russian
+anarchist who owned this den. Also there were columns of speculation
+about the case, signed statements and interviews with leading
+clergymen and bankers, the president of the Chamber of Commerce and
+the secretary of the Real Estate Exchange. Also there was a
+two-column, double-leaded editorial, pointing out how the "Times"
+had been saying this for thirty years, and not failing to connect up
+the case with the Goober case, and the Lackman case, and the case of
+three pacifist clergymen who had been arrested several days before
+for attempting to read the Sermon on the Mount at a public meeting.
+
+And Peter knew that he, Peter Gudge, had done all this! The forces
+of law and order owed it all to one obscure little secret service
+agent! Peter would get no credit, of course; the Chief of Police and
+the district attorney were issuing solemn statements, taking the
+honors to themselves, and with never one hint that they owed
+anything to the secret service department of the Traction Trust.
+That was necessary, of course; for the sake of appearances it had to
+be pretended that the public authorities were doing the work,
+exercising their legal functions in due and regular form. It would
+never do to have the mob suspect that these activities were being
+financed and directed by the big business interests of the city. But
+all the same, it made Peter sore! He and McGivney and the rest of
+Guffey's men had a contempt for the public officials, whom they
+regarded as "pikers"; the officials had very little money to spend,
+and very little power. If you really wanted to get anything done in
+America, you didn't go to any public official, you went to the big
+men of affairs, the ones who had the "stuff," and were used to doing
+things quickly and efficiently. It was the same in this business of
+spying as in everything else.
+
+Now and then Peter would realize how close he had come to ghastly
+ruin. He would have qualms of terror, picturing himself shut up in
+the hole, and Guffey proceeding to torture the truth out of him. But
+he was able to calm these fears. He was sure this dynamite
+conspiracy would prove too big a temptation for the authorities; it
+would sweep them away in spite of themselves. They would have to go
+thru with it, they would have to stand by Peter.
+
+And sure enough, on the evening of the second day a jailer came and
+said: "You're to be let out." And Peter was ushered thru the barred
+doors and turned loose without another word.
+
+
+
+
+Section 49
+
+
+Peter went to Room 427 of the American House and there was McGivney
+waiting for him. McGivney said nothing about any suspicion of Peter,
+nor did Peter say anything--he understood that by-gones were to be
+by-gones. The authorities were going to take this gift which the
+fates had handed to them on a silver platter. For years they had
+been wanting to get these Reds, and now magically and incredibly,
+they had got them!
+
+"Now, Gudge," said McGivney, "here's your story. You've been
+arrested on suspicion, you've been cross-questioned and put thru the
+third degree, but you succeeded in satisfying the police that you
+didn't know anything about it, and they've released you. We've
+released a couple of others at the same time, so's to cover you all
+right; and now you're to go back and find out all you can about the
+Reds, and what they're doing, and what they're planning. They're
+shouting, of course, that this is a `frame-up.' You must find out
+what they know. You must be careful, of course--watch every step you
+take, because they'll be suspicious for a while. We've been to your
+room and turned things upside down a bit, so that will help to make
+it look all right."
+
+Peter sallied forth; but he did not go to see the Reds immediately.
+He spent an hour dodging about the city to make sure no one was
+shadowing him; then he called up Nell at a telephone number she had
+given him, and an hour later they met in the park, and she flew to
+his arms and kissed him with rapturous delight. He had to tell her
+everything, of course; and when she learned that Joe Angell was a
+secret agent, she first stared at him in horror, and then she
+laughed until she almost cried. When Peter told how he had met that
+situation and got away with it, for the first time he was sure that
+he had won her love.
+
+"Now, Peter," she said, when they were calm again, we've got to get
+action at once. The papers are full of it, and old Nelse Ackerman
+must be scared out of his life. Here's a letter I'm going to mail
+tonight--you notice I've used a different typewriter from the one I
+used last time. I went into a typewriter store, and paid them to let
+me use one for a few minutes, so they can never trace this letter to
+me.
+
+The letter was addressed to Nelson Ackerman at his home, and marked
+"Personal." Peter read:
+
+"This is a message from a friend. The Reds had an agent in your
+home. They drew a plan of your house. The police are hiding things
+from you, because they can't get the truth, and don't want you to
+know they are incompetent. There is a man who discovered all this
+plot, and you should see him. They won't let you see him if they can
+help it. You should demand to see him. But do not mention this
+letter. If you do not get to the right man, I will write you again.
+If you keep this a secret, you may trust me to help you to the end.
+If you tell anybody, I will be unable to help you."
+
+"Now," said Nell, "when he gets that letter he'll get busy, and
+you've got to know what to do, because of course everything depends
+on that." So Nell proceeded to drill Peter for his meeting with the
+King of American City. Peter now stood in such awe of her judgment
+that he learned his lessons quite patiently, and promised solemnly
+that he would do exactly what she said and nothing else. He reaped
+his reward of kisses, and went home to sleep the sleep of the just.
+
+Next morning Peter set out to do some of his work for McGivney, so
+that McGivney would have no ground for complaint. He went to see
+Miriam Yankovich, and this time Miriam caught him by his two hands
+and wrung them, and Peter knew that he had atoned for his crime
+against little Jennie. Peter was a martyr once more. He told how he
+had been put thru the third degree; and she told how the water from
+the washtub had leaked thru the ceiling, and the plaster had fallen,
+and ruined the dinner of a poor workingman's family.
+
+Also, she told him all about the frame-up as the Reds saw it.
+Andrews, the lawyer, was demanding the right to see the prisoners,
+but this was refused, and they were all being held without bail. On
+the previous evening Miriam had attended a gathering at Andrews'
+home, at which the case was talked out. All the I. W. W.'s declared
+that the thing was the rankest kind of frame-up; the notes were
+obviously fake, and the dynamite had undoubtedly been planted by the
+police. They had used it as a pretext to shut up the I. W. W.
+headquarters, and to arrest a score of radicals. Worst of all, of
+course, was the propaganda; the hideous stories with which they were
+filling the papers. Had Peter seen this morning's "Times?" A
+perfectly unmistakable incitement to mobs to gather and lynch the
+Reds!
+
+
+
+
+Section 50
+
+
+From Miriam's, Peter went back to Room 427. It was Nell's idea that
+Nelse Ackerman would not lose a minute next morning; and sure
+enough, Peter found a note on the dressing-table: "Wait for me, I
+want to see you."
+
+Peter waited, and before long McGivney came in and sat down in front
+of him, and began very solemnly: "Now Peter Gudge, you know I'm your
+friend."
+
+"Yes, of course."
+
+"I've stood by you," said McGivney. "If it hadn't been for me, the
+boss would have had you in the hole right now, trying to sweat you
+into confessing you planted that dynamite. I want you to know that,
+and I want you to know that I'm going to stand by you, and I expect
+you to stand by me and give me a square deal."
+
+"Why, sure!" said Peter. "What is it?" Then McGivney proceeded to
+explain: Old Nelse Ackerman had got the idea that the police were
+holding back something from him. He was scared out of his wits about
+this case, of course. He had himself shut up in a cupboard at night,
+and made his wife pull down the curtains of her limousine when she
+went driving. And now he was insisting that he must have a talk with
+the man who had discovered this plot against him. McGivney hated to
+take the risk of having Peter become acquainted with anybody, but
+Nelse Ackerman was a man whose word was law. Really, he was Peter's
+employer; he had put up a lot of the money for the secret service
+work which Guffey was conducting, and neither Guffey or any of the
+city authorities dared try to fool him.
+
+"Well, that's all right," said Peter; "it won't hurt for me to see
+him."
+
+"He's going to question you about this case," said McGivney. "He's
+going to try to find out everything he can. So you got to protect
+us; you got to make him understand that we've done everything
+possible. You got to put us right with him."
+
+Peter promised solemnly he would do so; but McGivney wasn't
+satisfied. He was in a state of trepidation, and proceeded to hammer
+and hammer at Peter, impressing upon him the importance of
+solidarity, of keeping faith with his fellows. It sounded exactly
+like some of the I. W. W.'s talking among themselves!
+
+"You may think, here's a chance to jump on us and climb out on top,
+but don't you forget it, Peter Gudge, we've got a machine, and in
+the long run it's the machine that wins. We've broken many a fellow
+that's tried to play tricks on us, and we'll break you. Old Nelse
+will get what he wants out of you; he'll offer you a big price, no
+doubt--but before long he'll be thru with you, and then you'll come
+back to us, and I give you fair warning, by God, if you play us
+dirty, Guffey will have you in the hole in a month or two, and
+you'll come out on a stretcher."
+
+So Peter pledged his faith again; but, seeing his chance, he added:
+"Don't you think Mr. Guffey ought to do something for me, because of
+that plot I discovered?"
+
+"Yes, I think that," said McGivney; "that's only fair."
+
+And so they proceeded to bargain. Peter pointed out all the dangers
+he had run, and all the credit which the others had got. Guffey
+hadn't got credit in the papers, but he had got it with his
+employers, all right, and he would get still more if Peter stood by
+him with the king of American City. Peter said it ought to be worth
+a thousand dollars, and he said he ought to have it right away,
+before he went to see the king. At which Guffey scowled ferociously.
+"Look here, Gudge! you got the nerve to charge us such a price for
+standing by your frame-up?"
+
+McGivney generally treated Peter as a coward and a feeble bluffer;
+but he had learned also that there was one time when the little man
+completely changed his nature, and that was when it was a question
+of getting hold of some cash. That was the question now; and Peter
+met McGivney scowl for scowl. "If you don't like my frame-up," he
+snarled, "you go kick to the newspapers about it!"
+
+Peter was the bulldog again, and had got his teeth in the other
+bulldog's nose, and he hung right there. He had seen the rat-faced
+man pull money out of his clothes before this, and he knew that this
+time, above all other times, McGivney would come prepared. So he
+insisted--a thousand or nothing; and as before, his heart went down
+into his boots when McGivney produced his wad, and revealed that
+there was more in the wad than Peter had demanded!
+
+However, Peter consoled himself with the reflection that a thousand
+dollars was a tidy sum of money, and he set out for the home of
+Nelse Ackerman in a jovial frame of mind. Incidentally he decided
+that it might be the part of wisdom not to say anything to Nell
+about this extra thousand. When women found out that you had money,
+they'd never rest till they had got every cent of it, or at least
+had made you spend it on them!
+
+
+
+
+Section 51
+
+
+Nelse Ackerman's home was far out in the suburbs of the city, upon a
+knoll surrounded by forest. It was a couple of miles from the
+nearest trolley line, which forced Peter to take a hot walk in the
+sun. Apparently the great banker, in selecting the site of his
+residence, had never once thought that anybody might want to get to
+it without an automobile. Peter reflected as he walked that if he
+continued to move in these higher circles, he too would have to join
+the motor-driving class.
+
+About the estate there ran a great bronze fence, ten feet high, with
+sharp, inhospitable spikes pointing outwards. Peter had read about
+this fence a long time ago in the American City "Times"; it was so
+and so many thousand yards long, and had so and so many spikes, and
+had cost so and so many tens of thousands of dollars. There were big
+bronze gates locked tight, and a sign that said: "Beware the dogs!"
+Inside the gates were three guards carrying rifles and walking up
+and down; they were a consequence of the recent dynamite conspiracy,
+but Peter did not realize this, he took them for a regular
+institution, and a symbol of the importance of the man he was to
+visit.
+
+He pressed a button by the side of the gate, and a lodgekeeper came
+out, and Peter, according to orders, gave the name "Arthur G.
+McGillicuddy." The lodge-keeper went inside and telephoned, and then
+came back and opened the gate, just enough to admit Peter. "You're
+to be searched," said the lodge-keeper; and Peter, who had been
+arrested many times, took no offense at this procedure, but found it
+one more evidence of the importance of Nelse Ackerman. The guards
+went thru his pockets, and felt him all over, and then one of them
+marched him up the long gravel avenue thru the forest, climbed a
+flight of marble steps to the palace on the knoll, and turned him
+over to a Chinese butler who walked on padded slippers.
+
+If Peter had not known that this was a private home he would have
+thought it was an art gallery. There were great marble columns, and
+paintings bigger than Peter, and tapestries with life-size horses;
+there were men in armor, and battle axes and Japanese dancing
+devils, and many other strange sights. Ordinarily Peter would have
+been interested in learning how a great millionaire decorated his
+house, and would have drunk deep of the joy of being amid such
+luxury. But now all his thoughts were taken up with his dangerous
+business. Nell had told him what to look for, and he looked.
+Mounting the velvet-carpeted staircase, he noted a curtain behind
+which a man might hide, and a painting of a Spanish cavalier on the
+wall just opposite. He would make use of these two sights.
+
+They went down a hall, like a corridor in the Hotel de Soto, and at
+the end of it the butler tapped softly upon a door, and Peter was
+ushered into a big apartment in semi-darkness. The butler retired
+without a sound, closing the door behind him and Peter stood
+hesitating, looking about to get his bearings. From the other side
+of the room he heard three faint coughs, suggesting a sick man.
+There was a four-poster bed of some dark wood, with a canopy over it
+and draperies at the side, and a man in the bed, sitting propped up
+with pillows. There were more coughs, and then a faint whisper,
+"This way." So Peter crossed over and stood about ten feet from the
+bed, holding his hat in his hands; he was not able to see very much
+of the occupant of the bed, nor was he sure it would be respectful
+for him to try to see.
+
+"So you're--(cough) what's your name?"
+
+"Gudge," said Peter.
+
+"You are the man--(cough) that knows about the Reds?"
+
+"Yes, sir."
+
+The occupant of the bed coughed every two or three minutes thru the
+conversation that followed, and each time Peter noticed that he put
+his hand up to his mouth as if he were ashamed of the noise.
+Gradually Peter got used to the twilight, and could see that Nelse
+Ackerman was an old man with puffy, droopy cheeks and chin, and dark
+puffy crescents under his eyes. He was quite bald, and had on his
+head a skull cap of embroidered black silk, and a short, embroidered
+jacket over his night shirt. Beside the bed stood a table covered
+with glasses and bottles and pill-boxes, and also a telephone. Every
+few minutes this telephone would ring, and Peter would wait
+patiently while Mr. Ackerman settled some complex problem of
+business. "I've told them my terms," he would say with irritation,
+and then he would cough; and Peter, who was sharply watching every
+detail of the conduct of the rich, noted that he was too polite even
+to cough into the telephone. "If they will pay a hundred and
+twenty-five thousand dollars on account, I will wait, but not a cent
+less," Nelse Ackerman would say. And Peter, awe-stricken, realized
+that he had now reached the very top of Mount Olympus, he was at the
+highest point he could hope to reach until he went to heaven.
+
+The old man fixed his dark eyes on his visitor. "Who wrote me that
+letter?" whispered the husky voice.
+
+Peter had been expecting this. "What letter, sir?"
+
+"A letter telling me to see you."
+
+"I don't know anything about it, sir."
+
+"You mean--(cough) you didn't write me an anonynious letter?"
+
+"No, sir, I didn't."
+
+"Then some friend of yours must have written it."
+
+"I dunno that. It might have been some enemy of the police."
+
+"Well, now, what's this about the Reds having an agent in my home?"
+
+"Did the letter say that?"
+
+"It did."
+
+"Well, sir, that's putting it too strong. I ain't sure, it's just an
+idea I've had. It'll need a lot of explaining."
+
+"You're the man who discovered this plot, I understand?"
+
+"Yes, sir."
+
+"Well, take a chair, there," said the banker. There was a chair near
+the bedside, but it seemed to Peter too close to be respectful, so
+he pulled it a little farther away, and sat down on the front six
+inches of it, still holding his hat in his hands and twisting it
+nervously. "Put down that hat," said the old man, irritably. So
+Peter stuck the hat under his chair, and said: "I beg pardon, sir."
+
+
+
+
+Section 52
+
+
+The old plutocrat was feeble and sick, but his mind was all there,
+and his eyes seemed to be boring Peter through. Peter realized that
+he would have to be very careful--the least little slip would be
+fatal here.
+
+"Now, Gudge," the old man began, "I want you to tell me all about
+it. To begin with, how did you come to be among these Reds? Begin at
+the beginning."
+
+So Peter told how he had happened to get interested in the radical
+movement, laying particular stress upon the dangerousness of these
+Reds, and his own loyalty to the class which stood for order and
+progress and culture in the country. "It ought to be stopped, Mr.
+Ackerman!" he exclaimed, with a fine show of feeling; and the old
+banker nodded. Yes, yes, it ought to be stopped!
+
+"Well," said Peter, "I said to myself, `I'm going to find out about
+them fellows.' I went to their meetings, and little by little I
+pretended to get converted, and I tell you, Mr. Ackerman, our police
+are asleep; they don't know what these agitators are doing, what
+they're preaching. They don't know what a hold they've got on the
+mobs of the discontented!"
+
+Peter went on to tell in detail about the propaganda of social
+revolution, and about conspiracies against law and order, and the
+property and even the lives of the rich. Peter noticed that when the
+old man took a sip of water his hand trembled so that he could
+hardly keep the water from spilling; and presently, when the phone
+rang again, his voice became shrill and imperious. "I understand
+they're applying for bail for those men. Now Angus, that's an
+outrage! We'll not hear to anything like that! I want you to see the
+judge at once, and make absolutely certain that those men are held
+in jail."
+
+Then again the old banker had a coughing fit. "Now, Gudge," he said,
+"I know more or less about all that. What I want to know is about
+this conspiracy against me. Tell me how you came to find out about
+it."
+
+And Peter told; but of course he embellished it, in so far as it
+related to Mr. Ackerman--these fellows were talking about Mr.
+Ackerman all the time, they had a special grudge against him.
+
+"But why?" cried the old man. "Why?"
+
+"They think you're fighting them, Mr. Ackerman."
+
+"But I'm not! That's not true!"
+
+"Well, they say you put up money to hang Goober. They call
+you--you'll excuse me?"
+
+"Yes, yes, of course."
+
+"They call you the `head money devil.' They call you the financial
+king of American City."
+
+"King!" cried the banker. "What rubbish! Why, Gudge, that's fool
+newspaper talk! I'm a poor man today. There are two dozen men in
+this city richer than I am, and who have more power. Why--" But the
+old man fell to coughing and became so exhausted that he sank back
+into his pillows until he recovered his breath. Peter waited
+respectfully; but of course he wasn't fooled. Peter had carried on
+bargaining many times in his life, and had heard people proclaim
+their poverty and impotence.
+
+"Now, Gudge," the old man resumed. "I don't want to be killed; I
+tell you I don't want to be killed."
+
+"No, of course not," said Peter. It was perfectly comprehensible to
+him that Mr. Ackerman didn't want to be killed. But Mr. Ackerman
+seemed to think it necessary to impress the idea upon him; in the
+course of the conversation he came back to it a number of times, and
+each time he said it with the same solemn assurance, as if it were a
+brand new idea, and a very unusual and startling idea. "I don't want
+to be killed, Gudge; I tell you I don't want to let those fellows
+get me. No, no; we've got to circumvent them, we've got to take
+precautions--every precaution--I tell you every possible
+precaution."
+
+"I'm here for that purpose, Mr. Ackerman," said Peter, solemnly.
+"I'll do everything. We'll do everything, I'm sure."
+
+"What's this about the police?" demanded the banker. "What's this
+about Guffey's bureau? You say they're not competent?"
+
+"Well now, I'll tell you, Mr. Ackerman," said Peter, "It's a little
+embarrassing. You see, they employ me--"
+
+"Nonsense!" exclaimed the other. "_I_ employ you! I'm putting up the
+money for this work, and I want the facts!--I want them all."
+
+"Well," said Peter, "they've been very decent to me--"
+
+"I say tell me everything!" exclaimed the old man. He was a most
+irritable old man, and couldn't stand for a minute not having what
+he asked for. "What's the matter with them?"
+
+Peter answered, as humbly as he could: "I could tell you a great
+deal that'd be of use to you, Mr. Ackerman, but you got to keep it
+between you and me."
+
+"All right!" said the other, quickly. "What is it?"
+
+"If you give a hint of it to anybody else," persisted Peter, "then
+I'll get fired."
+
+"You'll not get fired, I'll see to that. If necessary I'll hire you
+direct."
+
+"Ah, but you don't understand, Mr. Ackerman. It's a machine, and you
+can't run against it; you gotta understand it, you gotta handle it
+right. I'd like to help you, and I know I can help you, but you
+gotta let me explain it, and you gotta understand some things."
+
+"All right," said the old man. "Go ahead, what is it?"
+
+"Now," said Peter, "it's like this. These police and all these
+fellows mean well, but they don't understand; it's too complicated,
+they ain't been in this movement long enough. They're used to
+dealing with criminals; but these Reds, you see, are cranks.
+Criminals ain't organized, at least they don't stand together; but
+these Reds do, and if you fight 'em, they fight back, and they make
+what they call `propaganda.' And that propaganda is dangerous--if
+you make a wrong move, you may find you've made 'em stronger than
+they were before."
+
+"Yes, I see that," said the old man. "Well?"
+
+"Then again, the police dunno how dangerous they are. You try to
+tell them things, they won't really believe you. I've known for a
+long time there was a group of these people getting together to kill
+off all the rich men, the big men all over the country. They've been
+spying on these rich men, getting ready to kill them. They know a
+lot about them that you can't explain their knowing. That's how I
+got the idea they had somebody in your house, Mr. Ackerman."
+
+"Tell me what you mean. Tell me at once."
+
+"Well, sir, every once in a while I pick up scraps of conversation.
+One day I heard Mac--"
+
+"Mac?"
+
+"That's McCormick, the one who's in jail. He's an I. W. W. leader,
+and I think the most dangerous of all. I heard him whispering to
+another fellow, and it scared me, because it had to do with killing
+a rich man. He'd been watching this rich man, and said he was going
+to shoot him down right in his own house! I didn't hear the name of
+the man--I walked away, because I didn't want him to think I was
+trying to listen in. They're awful suspicious, these fellows; if you
+watch Mac you see him looking around over his shoulder every minute
+or two. So I strolled off, and then I strolled back again, and he
+was laughing about something, and I heard him say these words; I
+heard him say, `I was hiding behind the curtain, and there was a
+Spanish fellow painted on the wall, and every time I peeked out that
+bugger was looking at me, and I wondered if he wasn't going to give
+me away.'"
+
+And Peter stopped. His eyes had got used to the twilight now, and he
+could see the old banker's eyes starting out from the crescents of
+dark, puffy flesh underneath. "My God!" whispered Nelse Ackerman.
+
+"Now, that was all I heard," said Peter. "And I didn't know what it
+meant. But when I learned about that drawing that Mac had made of
+your house, I thought to myself, Jesus, I bet that was Mr. Ackerman
+he was waiting to shoot!"
+
+"Good God! Good God!" whispered the old man; and his trembling
+fingers pulled at the embroidery on the coverlet. The telephone
+rang, and he took up the receiver, and told somebody he was too busy
+now to talk; they would have to call him later. He had another
+coughing spell, so that Peter thought he was going to choke, and had
+to help him get some medicine down his throat. Peter was a little
+bit shocked to see such obvious and abject fear in one of the gods.
+After all, they were just men, these Olympians, as much subject to
+pain and death as Peter Gudge himself!
+
+Also Peter was surprised to find how "easy" Mr. Ackerman was. He
+made no lofty pretence of being indifferent to the Reds. He put
+himself at Peter's mercy, to be milked at Peter's convenience. And
+Peter would make the most of this opportunity.
+
+"Now, Mr. Ackerman," he began, "You can see it wouldn't be any use
+to tell things like that to the police. They dunno how to handle
+such a situation; the honest truth is, they don't take these Reds
+serious. They'll spend ten times as much money to catch a plain
+burglar as they will to watch a whole gang like this."
+
+"How can they have got into my home?" cried the old man.
+
+"They get in by ways you'd never dream of, Mr. Ackerman. They have
+people who agree with them. Why, you got no idea, there's some
+preachers that are Reds, and some college teachers, and some rich
+men like yourself."
+
+"I know, I know," said Ackerman. "But surely--"
+
+"How can you tell? You may have a traitor right in your own family."
+
+So Peter went on, spreading the Red Terror in the soul of this old
+millionaire who did not want to be killed. He said again that he did
+not want to be killed, and explained his reluctance in some detail.
+So many people were dependent upon him for their livings, Peter
+could have no conception of it! There were probably a hundred
+thousand men with their families right here in American City, whose
+jobs depended upon plans which Ackerman was carrying, and which
+nobody but Ackerman could possibly carry. Widows and orphans looked
+to him for protection of their funds; a vast net-work of
+responsibilities required his daily, even his hourly decisions. And
+sure enough, the telephone rang, and Peter heard Nelse Ackerman
+declare that the Amalgamated Securities Company would have to put
+off a decision about its dividends until tomorrow, because he was
+too busy to sign certain papers just then. He hung up the receiver
+and said: "You see, you see! I tell you, Gudge, we must not let them
+get me!"
+
+
+
+
+Section 53
+
+
+They came down to the question of practical plans, and Peter was
+ready with suggestions. In the first place, Mr. Ackerman must give
+no hint either to the police authorities or to Guffey that he was
+dissatisfied with their efforts. He must simply provide for an
+interview with Peter now and then, and he and Peter, quite
+privately, must take certain steps to get Mr. Ackerman that
+protection which his importance to the community made necessary. The
+first thing was to find out whether or not there was a traitor in
+Mr. Ackerman's home, and for that purpose there must be a spy, a
+first-class detective working in some capacity or other. The only
+trouble was, there were so few detectives you could trust; they were
+nearly all scoundrels, and if they weren't scoundrels, it was
+because they didn't have sense enough to be--they were boobs, and
+any Red could see thru them in five minutes.
+
+"But I tell you," said Peter, "what I've thought. I've got a wife
+that's a wonder, and just now while we were talking about it, I
+thought, if I could only get Edythe in here for a few days, I'd find
+out everything about all the people in your home, your relatives as
+well as your servants."
+
+"Is she a professional detective?" asked the banker.
+
+"Why no, sir," said Peter. "She was an actress, her name was Edythe
+Eustace; perhaps you might have heard of her on the stage."
+
+"No, I'm too busy for the theatre," said Mr. Ackerman.
+
+"Of course," said Peter. "Well, I dunno whether she'd be willing to
+do it; she don't like having me mix up with these Reds, and she's
+been begging me to quit for a long time, and I'd just about promised
+her I would. But if I tell her about your trouble maybe she might,
+just as a favor."
+
+But how could Peter's wife be introduced into the Ackerman household
+without attracting suspicion? Peter raised this question, pointing
+out that his wife was a person of too high a social class to come as
+a servant. Mr. Ackerman added that he had nothing to do with
+engaging his servants, any more than with engaging the bookkeepers
+in his bank. It would look suspicious for him to make a suggestion
+to his housekeeper. But finally he remarked that he had a niece who
+sometimes came to visit him, and would come at once if requested,
+and would bring Edythe Eustace as her maid. Peter was sure that
+Edythe would be able to learn this part quickly, she had acted it
+many times on the stage, in fact, it had been her favorite role. Mr.
+Ackerman promised to get word to his niece, and have her meet Edythe
+at the Hotel de Soto that same afternoon.
+
+Then the old banker pledged his word most solemnly that he would not
+whisper a hint about this matter except to his niece. Peter was most
+urgent and emphatic; he specified that the police were not to be
+told, that no member of the household was to be told, not even Mr.
+Ackerman's private secretary. After Mr. Ackerman had had this duly
+impressed upon him, he proceeded in turn to impress upon Peter the
+idea which he considered of most importance in the world: "I don't
+want to be killed, Gudge, I tell you I don't want to be killed!" And
+Peter solemnly promised to make it his business to listen to all
+conversations of the Reds in so far as they might bear upon Mr.
+Ackerman.
+
+When he rose to take his departure, Mr. Ackerman slipped his
+trembling fingers into the pocket of his jacket, and pulled out a
+crisp and shiny note. He unfolded it, and Peter saw that it was a
+five hundred dollar bill, fresh from the First National Bank of
+American City, of which Mr. Ackerman was chairman of the board of
+directors. "Here's a little present for you, Gudge," he said. "I
+want you to understand that if you protect me from these villains,
+I'll see that you are well taken care of. From now on I want you to
+be my man."
+
+"Yes, sir," said Peter, "I'll be it, sir. I thank you very much,
+sir." And he thrust the bill into his pocket, and bowed himself step
+by step backwards toward the door. "You're forgetting your hat,"
+said the banker.
+
+"Why, yes," said the trembling Peter, and he came forward again, and
+got his hat from under the chair, and bowed himself backward again.
+
+"And remember, Gudge," said the old man, "I don't want to be killed!
+I don't want them to get me!"
+
+
+
+
+Section 54
+
+
+Peter's first care when he got back into the city was to go to Mr.
+Ackerman's bank and change that five hundred dollar bill. The
+cashier gazed at him sternly, and scrutinized the bill carefully,
+but he gave Peter five one hundred dollar bills without comment.
+Peter tucked three of them away in a safe hiding-place, and put the
+other two in his pocketbook, and went to keep his appointment with
+Nell.
+
+He told her all that had happened, and where she was to meet Mr.
+Ackerman's niece. "What did he give you?" Nell demanded, at once,
+and when Peter produced the two bills, she exclaimed, "My God! the
+old skint-flint!" "He said there'd be more," remarked Peter.
+
+"It didn't cost him anything to say that," was Nell's answer. "We'll
+have to put the screws on him." Then she added, "You'd better let me
+take care of this money for you, Peter."
+
+"Well," said Peter, "I have to have some for my own expenses, you
+know."
+
+"You've got your salary, haven't you?"
+
+"Yes, that's true, but--"
+
+"I can keep it safe for you," said Nell, "and some day when you need
+it you'll be glad to have it. You've never saved anything yourself;
+that's a woman's job."
+
+Peter tried to haggle with her, but it wasn't the same as haggling
+with McGivney; she looked at him with her melting glances, and it
+made Peter's head swim, and automatically he put out his hand and
+let her take the two bills. Then she smiled, so tenderly that he
+made bold to remind her, "You know, Nell, you're my wife now!"
+
+"Yes, yes," she answered, "of course. But we've got to get rid of
+Ted Crothers somehow. He watches me all the time, and I have no end
+of trouble making excuses and getting away."
+
+"How're you're going to get rid of him?" asked Peter, hungrily.
+
+"We'll have to skip," she answered; "just as soon as we have pulled
+off our new frame-up--"
+
+"Another one?" gasped Peter, in dismay.
+
+And the girl laughed. "You wait!" she said. "I'm going to pull some
+real money out of Nelse Ackerman this time! Then when we've made our
+killing, we'll skip, and be fixed for life. You wait--and don't talk
+love to me now, because my mind is all taken up with my plans, and I
+can't think about anything else."
+
+So they parted, and Peter went to see McGivney in the American
+House. "Stand up to him!" Nell had said. But it was not easy to do,
+for McGivney pulled and hauled him and turned him about, upside down
+and inside outwards, to know every single thing that had happened
+between him and Nelse Ackerman. Lord, how these fellows did hang on
+to their sources of graft! Peter repeated and insisted that he
+really had played entirely fair--he hadn't told Nelse Ackerman a
+thing except just the truth as he had told it to Guffey and
+McGivney. He had said that the police were all right, and that
+Guffey's bureau was stepping right on the tail of the Reds all the
+time.
+
+"And what does he want you to do?" demanded the rat-faced man.
+
+Peter answered, "He just wanted to make sure that he was learning
+everything of importance, and he wanted me to promise him that he
+would get every scrap of information that I collected about the plot
+against him; and of course I promised him that we'd bring it all to
+him."
+
+"You going to see him any more?" demanded McGivney.
+
+"He didn't say anything about that."
+
+"Did he get your address?"
+
+"No, I suppose if he wants me he'll let you know, the same as
+before."
+
+"All right," said McGivney. "Did he give you any money?"
+
+"Yes," said Peter, "he gave me two hundred dollars, and he said
+there was plenty more where that came from, so that we'd work hard
+to help him. He said he didn't want to get killed; he said that a
+couple of dozen times, I guess. He spent more time saying that than
+anything else. He's sick, and he's scared out of his wits."
+
+So at last McGivney condescended to thank Peter for his
+faithfulness, and went on to give him further orders.
+
+The Reds were raising an awful howl. Andrews, the lawyer, had
+succeeded in getting a court order to see the arrested men, and of
+course the prisoners had all declared that the case was a put-up
+job. Now the Reds were preparing to send out a circular to their
+fellow Reds all over the country, appealing for publicity, and for
+funds to fight the "frame-up."
+
+They were very secret about it, and McGivney wanted to know where
+they were getting their money. He wanted a copy of the circular they
+were printing, and to know where and when the circulars were to be
+mailed. Guffey had been to see the post office authorities, and they
+were going to confiscate the circulars and destroy them all without
+letting the Reds know it.
+
+Peter rubbed his hands with glee. That was the real business! That
+was going after these criminals in the way Peter had been urging!
+The rat-faced man answered that it was nothing to what they were
+going to do in a few days. Let Peter keep on his job, and he would
+see! Now, when the public was wrought up over this dynamite
+conspiracy, was the time to get things done.
+
+
+
+
+Section 55
+
+
+Peter took a street car to the home of Miriam Yankovitch, and on the
+way he read the afternoon edition of the American City "Times." The
+editors of this paper were certainly after the Reds, and no mistake!
+They had taken McCormick's book on Sabotage, just as Nell had
+predicted, and printed whole chapters from it, with the most
+menacing sentences in big type, and some boxed up in little frames
+and scattered here and there over the page so that no one could
+possibly miss them. They had a picture of McCormick taken in the
+jail; he hadn't had a chance to shave for several days, and probably
+hadn't felt pleasant about having his picture taken--anyhow, he
+looked ferocious enough to frighten the most skeptical, and Peter
+was confirmed in his opinion that Mac was the most dangerous Red of
+them all.
+
+Columns and columns of material this paper published about the case,
+subtly linking it up with all the other dynamitings and
+assassinations in American history, and with German spy plots and
+bomb plots. There was a nation-wide organization of these assassins,
+so the paper said; they published hundreds of papers, with millions
+of readers, all financed by German gold. Also, there was a
+double-leaded editorial calling on the citizens to arise and save
+the republic, and put an end to the Red menace once for all. Peter
+read this, and like every other good American, he believed every
+word that he read in his newspaper, and boiled with hatred of the
+Reds.
+
+He found Miriam Yankovitch away from home. Her mother was in a state
+of excitement, because Miriam had got word that the police were
+giving the prisoners the "third degree," and she had gone to the
+offices of the Peoples' Council to get the radicals together and try
+to take some immediate action. So Peter hurried over to these
+offices, where he found some twenty-five Reds and Pacifists
+assembled, all in the same state of excitement. Miriam was walking
+up and down the room, clasping and unclasping her hands, and her
+eyes looked as if she had been crying all day. Peter remembered his
+suspicion that Miriam and Mac were lovers. He questioned her. They
+had put Mac in the "hole," and Henderson, the lumber-jack, was laid
+up in the hospital as a result of the ordeal he had undergone.
+
+The Jewish girl went into details, and Peter found himself
+shuddering--he had such a vivid memory of the third degree himself!
+He did not try to stop his shuddering, but took to pacing up and
+down the room like Miriam, and told them how it felt to have your
+wrists twisted and your fingers bent backward, and how damp and
+horrible it was in the "hole." So he helped to work them into a
+state of hysteria, hoping that they would commit some overt action,
+as McGivney wanted. Why not storm the jail and set free the
+prisoners?
+
+Little Ada Ruth said that was nonsense; but might they not get
+banners, and parade up and down in front of the jail, protesting
+against this torturing of men who had not been convicted of any
+crime? The police would fall on them, of course, the crowds would
+mob them and probably tear them to pieces, but they must do
+something. Donald Gordon answered that this would only make them
+impotent to keep up the agitation. What they must try to get was a
+strike of labor. They must send telegrams to the radical press, and
+go out and raise money, and call a mass-meeting three days from
+date. Also, they must appeal to all the labor unions, and see if it
+was possible to work up sentiment for a general strike.
+
+Peter, somewhat disappointed, went back and reported to McGivney
+this rather tame outcome. But McGivney said that was all right, he
+had something that would fix them; and he revealed to Peter a
+startling bit of news. Peter had been reading in the papers about
+German spies, but he had only half taken it seriously; the war was a
+long way off, and Peter had never seen any of that German gold that
+they talked so much about--in fact, the Reds were in a state of
+perpetual poverty, one and all of them stinting himself eternally to
+put up some portion of his scant earnings to pay for pamphlets and
+circulars and postage and defence funds, and all the expenses of an
+active propaganda organization. But now, McGivney declared, there
+was a real, sure-enough agent of the Kaiser in American City! The
+government had pretty nearly got him in his nets, and one of the
+things McGivney wanted to do before the fellow was arrested was to
+get him to contribute some money to the radical cause.
+
+It wasn't necessary to point out to Peter the importance of this. If
+the authorities could show that the agitation on behalf of McCormick
+and the rest had been financed by German money, the public would
+justify any measures taken to bring it to an end. Could Peter
+suggest to McGivney the name of a German Socialist who might be
+persuaded to approach this agent of the Kaiser, and get him to
+contribute money for the purpose of having a general strike called
+in American City? Several of the city's big manufacturing plants
+were being made over for war purposes, and obviously the enemy had
+much to gain by strikes and labor discontent. Guffey's men had been
+trying for a long time to get Germans to contribute to the Goober
+Defense fund, but here was an even better opportunity.
+
+Peter thought of Comrade Apfel, who was one of the extreme
+Socialists, and a temporary Pacifist like most Germans. Apfel worked
+in a bakery, and his face was as pasty as the dough he kneaded, but
+it would show a tinge of color when he rose in the local to denounce
+the "social patriots," those party members who were lending their
+aid to British plans for world domination. McGivney said he would
+send somebody to Apfel at once, and give him the name of the
+Kaiser's agent as one who might be induced to contribute to the
+radical defense fund. Apfel would, of course, have no idea that the
+man was a German agent; he would go to see him, and ask him for
+money, and McGivney and his fellow-sleuths would do the rest. Peter
+said that was fine, and offered to go to Apfel himself; but the
+rat-faced man answered no, Peter was too precious, and no chance
+must be taken of directing Apfel's suspicions against him.
+
+
+
+
+Section 56
+
+
+Peter had received a brief scrawl from Nell, telling him that it was
+all right, she had gone to her new job, and would soon have results.
+So Peter went cheerfully about his own duties of trying to hold down
+the protest campaign of the radicals. It was really quite
+terrifying, the success they were having, in spite of all the best
+efforts of the authorities. Bundles of circulars appeared at their
+gatherings as if by magic, and were carried away and distributed
+before the authorities could make any move. Every night at the Labor
+Temple, where the workers gathered, there were agitators howling
+their heads off about the McCormick case. To make matters worse,
+there was an obscure one cent evening paper in American City which
+catered to working-class readers, and persisted in publishing
+evidence tending to prove that the case was a "frame-up." The Reds
+had found out that their mail was being interfered with, and were
+raising a terrific howl about that--pretending, of course, that it
+was "free speech" they cared about!
+
+The mass meeting was due for that evening, and Peter read an
+indignant editorial in the American City "Times," calling upon the
+authorities to suppress it. "Down with the Red Flag!" the editorial
+was headed; and Peter couldn't see how any red-blooded, 100%
+American could read it, and not be moved to do something.
+
+Peter said that to McGivney, who answered: "We're going to do
+something; you wait!" And sure enough, that afternoon the papers
+carried the news that the mayor of American City had notified the
+owners of the Auditorium that they would be held strictly
+responsible under the law for all incendiary and seditious
+utterances at this meeting; thereupon, the owners of the Auditorium
+had cancelled the contract. Furthermore, the mayor declared that no
+crowds should be gathered on the street, and that the police would
+be there to see to it, and to protect law and order. Peter hurried
+to the rooms of the Peoples' Council, and found the radicals
+scurrying about, trying to find some other hall; every now and then
+Peter would go to the telephone, and let McGivney know what hall
+they were trying to get, and McGivney would communicate with Guffey,
+and Guffey would communicate with the secretary of the Chamber of
+Commerce, and the owner of this hall would be called up and warned
+by the president of the bank which held a mortgage on the hall, or
+by the chairman of the board of directors of the Philharmonic
+Orchestra which gave concerts there.
+
+So there was no Red mass meeting that night--and none for many a
+night thereafter in American City! Guffey's office had got its
+German spy story ready, and next morning, here was the entire front
+page of the American City "Times" given up to the amazing revelation
+that Karl von Stroeme, agent of the German government, and reputed
+to be a nephew of the German Vice-chancellor, had been arrested in
+American City, posing as a Swedish sewing-machine agent, but in
+reality having been occupied in financing the planting of dynamite
+bombs in the buildings of the Pioneer Foundry Company, now being
+equipped for the manufacture of machine-guns. Three of von Stroeme's
+confederates had been nabbed at the same time, and a mass of papers
+full of important revelations--not the least important among them
+being the fact that only yesterday von Stroeme had been caught
+dealing with a German Socialist of the ultra-Red variety, an
+official of the Bread and Cake-Makers' Union Number 479, by the name
+of Ernst Apfel. The government had a dictagraph record of
+conversations in which von Stroeme had contributed one hundred
+dollars to the Liberty Defense League, an organization which the
+Reds had got up for the purpose of carrying on agitation for the
+release of the I. W. W.s arrested in the dynamite plot against the
+life of Nelse Ackerman. Moreover it was proven that Apfel had taken
+this money and distributed it among several German Reds, who had
+turned it in to the defense fund, or used it in paying for circulars
+calling for a general strike.
+
+Peter's heart was leaping with excitement; and it leaped even faster
+when he had got his breakfast and was walking down Main Street. He
+saw crowds gathered, and American flags flying from all the
+buildings, just as on the day of the Preparedness parade. It caused
+Peter to feet queer spasms of fright; he imagined another bomb, but
+he couldn't resist the crowds with their eager faces and contagious
+enthusiasm. Presently here came a band, with magnificent martial
+music, and here came soldiers marching--tramp, tramp, tramp--line
+after line of khaki-clad boys with heavy packs upon their backs and
+shiny new rifles. Our boys! Our boys! God bless them!
+
+It was three regiments of the 223rd Division, coming from Camp
+Lincoln to be entrained for the war. They might better have been
+entrained at the camp, of course, but everyone had been clamoring
+for some glimpse of the soldiers, and here they were with their
+music and their flags, and their crowds of flushed, excited
+admirers--two endless lines of people, wild with patriotic fervor,
+shouting, singing, waving hats and handkerchiefs, until the whole
+street became a blur, a mad delirium. Peter saw these closely
+pressed lines, straight and true, and the legs that moved like
+clock-work, and the feet that shook the ground like thunder. He saw
+the fresh, boyish faces, grimly set and proud, with eyes fixed
+ahead, never turning, even tho they realized that this might be
+their last glimpse of their home city, that they might never come
+back from this journey. Our boys! Our boys! God bless them! Peter
+felt a choking in his throat, and a thrill of gratitude to the boys
+who were protecting him and his country; he clenched his hands and
+set his teeth, with fresh determination to punish the evil men and
+women--draft-dodgers, slackers, pacifists and seditionists--who were
+failing to take their part in this glorious emprise.
+
+
+
+
+Section 57
+
+
+Peter went to the American House and met McGivney, and was put to
+work on a job that precisely suited his mood. The time had come for
+action, said the rat-faced man. The executive committee of the I. W.
+W. local had been drafting an appeal to the main organization for
+help, and the executive committee was to meet that evening; Peter
+was to get in touch with the secretary, Grady, and find out where
+this meeting was to be, and make the suggestion that all the
+membership be gathered, and other Reds also. The business men of the
+city were going to pull off their big stroke that night, said
+McGivney; the younger members of the Chamber of Commerce and the
+Merchants' and Manufacturers' Association had got together and
+worked out a secret plan, and all they wanted was to have the Reds
+collected in one place.
+
+So Peter set out and found Shawn Grady, the young Irish boy who kept
+the membership lists and other papers of the organization, in a
+place so secret that not even Peter had been able to find them.
+Peter brought the latest news about the sufferings of Mac in the
+"hole," and how Gus, the sailor, had joined Henderson in the
+hospital. He was so eloquent in his indignation that presently Grady
+told him about the meeting for that evening, and about the place,
+and Peter said they really ought to get some of their friends
+together, and work out some way to get their protest literature
+distributed quickly, because it was evident they could no longer use
+the mails. What was the use of resolutions of executive committees,
+when what was wanted was action by the entire membership? Grady said
+all right, they would notify the active members and sympathizers,
+and he gave Peter the job of telephoning and travelling about town
+getting word to a dozen people.
+
+At six o'clock that evening Peter reported the results to McGivney,
+and then he got a shock. "You must go to that meeting yourself,"
+said the rat-faced man. "You mustn't take any chance of their
+suspecting you."
+
+"But, my God!" cried Peter. "What's going to happen there?"
+
+"You don't need to worry about that," answered the other. "I'll see
+that you're protected."
+
+The gathering was to take place at the home of Ada Ruth, the
+poetess, and McGivney had Peter describe this home to him. Beyond
+the living-room was a hallway, and in this hallway was a big clothes
+closet. At the first alarm Peter must make for this place. He must
+get into the closet, and McGivney would be on hand, and they would
+pen Peter up and pretend to club him, but in reality would protect
+him from whatever happened to the rest. Peter's knees began to
+tremble, and he denounced the idea indignantly; what would happen to
+him if anything were to happen to McGivney, or to his automobile,
+and were to fail to get there in time? McGivney declared that Peter
+need not worry--he was too valuable a man for them to take any
+chances with. McGivney would be there, and all Peter would have to
+do was to scream and raise a rumpus, and finally fall unconscious,
+and McGivney and Hammett and Cummings would carry him out to their
+automobile and take him away!
+
+Peter was so frightened that he couldn't eat any dinner, but
+wandered about the street talking to himself and screwing up his
+courage. He had to stop and look at the American flags, still waving
+from the buildings, and read the evening edition of the American
+City "Times," in order to work up his patriotic fervor again. As he
+set out for the home of the little cripple who wrote pacifist
+poetry, he really felt like the soldier boys marching away to war.
+
+Ada Ruth was there, and her mother, a dried-up old lady who knew
+nothing about all these dreadful world movements, but whose
+pleadings had no effect upon her inspired daughter; also Ada's
+cousin, a lean old-maid school teacher, secretary of the Peoples'
+Council; also Miriam Yankovitch, and Sadie Todd, and Donald Gordon.
+On the way Peter had met Tom Duggan, and the mournful poet revealed
+that he had composed a new poem about Mac in the "hole." Immediately
+afterwards came Grady, the secretary, his pockets stuffed with his
+papers. Grady, a tall, dark-eyed, impulsive-tempered Irish boy, was
+what the Socialists called a "Jimmie Higgins," that is, one of the
+fellows who did the hard and dreary work of the movement, who were
+always on hand no matter what happened, always ready to have some
+new responsibility put upon their shoulders. Grady had no use for
+the Socialists, being only interested in "industrial action," but he
+was willing to be called a "Jimmie Higgins"; he had said that Peter
+was one too, and Peter had smiled to himself, thinking that a
+"Jimmie Higgins" was about the last thing in the world he ever would
+be. Peter was on the way to independence and prosperity, and it did
+not occur to him to reflect that he might be a "Jimmie Higgins" to
+the "Whites" instead of to the Reds!
+
+Grady now pulled out his papers, and began to talk over with Donald
+Gordon the proceedings of the evening. He had had a telegram from
+the national headquarters of the I. W. W., promising support, and
+his thin, hungry face lighted up with pride as he showed this. Then
+he announced that "Bud" Connor was to be present--a well-known
+organizer, who had been up in the oil country with McCormick, and
+brought news that the workers there were on the verge of a big
+strike. Then came Mrs. Jennings, a poor, tormented little woman who
+was slowly dying of a cancer, and whose husband was suing her for
+divorce because she had given money to the I. W. W. With her, and
+helping her along, came "Andy" Adams, a big machinist, who had been
+kicked out of his lodge for talking too much "direct action." He
+pulled from his pocket a copy of the "Evening Telegraph," and read a
+few lines from an editorial, denouncing "direct action" as meaning
+dynamiting, which it didn't, of course, and asking how long it would
+be before the friends of law and order in American City would use a
+little "direct action" of their own.
+
+
+
+
+Section 58
+
+
+So they gathered, until about thirty were present, and then the
+meeting speedily got down to business. It was evident, said Grady,
+that the authorities had deliberately framed-up the dynamite
+conspiracy, in order to have an excuse for wiping out the I. W. W.
+organization; they had closed the hall, and confiscated everything,
+typewriters and office furniture and books--including a book on
+Sabotage which they had turned over to the editor of the "Evening
+Times"! There was a hiss of anger at this. Also, they had taken to
+interfering with the mail of the organization; the I. W. W. were
+having to get out their literature by express. They were fighting
+for their existence, and they must find some way of getting the
+truth to people. If anybody had any suggestions to make, now was the
+time.
+
+There came one suggestion after another; and meantime Peter sat as
+if his chair were full of pins. Why didn't they come--the younger
+members of the Chamber of Commerce and the Merchants' and
+Manufacturers' Association--and do what they were going to do
+without any further delay? Did they expect Peter to sit there all
+night, trembling with alarm--and he not having any dinner besides?
+
+Suddenly Peter gave a jump. Outside came a yell, and Donald Gordon,
+who was making a speech, stopped suddenly, and the members of the
+company stared at one another, and some sprang to their feet. There
+were more yells, rising to screams, and some of the company made for
+the front doors, and some for the back doors, and yet others for the
+windows and the staircase. Peter wasted no time, but dived into the
+clothes closet in the hallway back of the living-room, and got into
+the farthest corner of this closet, and pulled some of the clothes
+on top of him; and then, to make him safer yet, came several other
+people piling on top of him.
+
+From his place of refuge he listened to the confusion that reigned.
+The place was a bedlam of women's shrieks, and the curses of
+fighting men, and the crash of overturning furniture, and of clubs
+and monkey-wrenches on human heads. The younger members of the
+Chamber of Commerce and the Merchants' and Manufacturers'
+Association had come in sufficient force to make sure of their
+purpose. There were enough to crowd the room full, and to pack all
+the doorways, and two or three to guard each window, and a flying
+squadron to keep watch for anybody who jumped from the roof or tried
+to hide in the trees of the garden.
+
+Peter cowered, and listened to the furious uproar, and presently he
+heard the cries of those on top of him, and realized that they were
+being pulled off and clubbed; he felt hands reach down and grab him,
+and he cringed and cried in terror; but nothing happened to him, and
+presently he glanced up and he saw a man wearing a black mask, but
+easily to be recognized as McGivney. Never in all his life had Peter
+been gladder to see a human face than he was to see that masked face
+of a rat! McGivney had a club in his hand, and was dealing ferocious
+blows to the clothes heaped around Peter. Behind McGivney were
+Hammett and Cummings, covering the proceedings, and now and then
+carefully putting in a blow of their own.
+
+Most of the fighting inside the house and outside came quickly to an
+end, because everybody who fought was laid out or overpowered. Then
+several of the agents of Guffey, who had been studying these Reds
+for a year or two and knew them all, went about picking out the ones
+who were especially wanted, and searching them for arms, and then
+handcuffing them. One of these men approached Peter, who instantly
+fell unconscious, and closed his eyes; then Hammett caught him under
+the armpits and Cummings by the feet, and McGivney walked alongside
+as a bodyguard, remarking now and then, "We want this fellow, we'll
+take care of him."
+
+They carried Peter outside, and in the darkness he opened his eyes
+just enough to see that the street was lined with automobiles, and
+that the Reds were being loaded aboard. Peter's friends carried him
+to one car and drove him away, and then Peter returned to
+consciousness, and the four of them sat up and laughed to split
+their sides, and slapped one another on the back, and mentioned the
+satisfactory things they had seen. Had Hammett noticed that slice
+Grady had got over the eyes, and the way the blood had run all over
+him? Well, he wanted to be a Red--they had helped him be one--inside
+and out! Had McGivney noticed how "Buck" Ellis, one of their men,
+had put the nose of the hobo poet out of joint? And young Ogden, son
+of the president of the Chamber of Commerce, had certainly managed
+to show how he felt about these cattle, the female ones as well as
+the males; when that Yankovich slut had slapped his face, he had
+caught her by the breasts and nearly twisted them off, and she had
+screamed and fainted!
+
+Yes, they had cleaned them out. But that wasn't all of it, they were
+going to finish the job tonight, by God! They were going to give
+these pacifists a taste of the war, they were going to put an end to
+the Red Terror in American City! Peter might go along if he liked
+and see the good work; they were going into the country, and it
+would be dark, and if he kept a mask on he would be quite safe. And
+Peter said yes; his blood was up, he was full of the spirit of the
+hunt, he wanted to be in at the death, regardless of everything.
+
+
+
+
+Section 59
+
+
+The motor purred softly, and the car sped as if upon wings thru the
+suburbs of American City, and to the country beyond. There were cars
+in front, and other cars behind, a long stream of white lights
+flying out into the country. They came to a grove of big pine trees,
+which rose two or three feet thick, like church arches, and covered
+the ground beneath them with a soft, brown carpet. It was a
+well-known picnic place, and here all the cars were gathering by
+appointment. Evidently it had all been pre-arranged, with that
+efficiency which is the pride of 100% Americans. A man with a black
+mask over his face stood in the center of the grove, and shouted his
+directions thru a megaphone, and each car as it swept in ranged
+itself alongside the next car in a broad circle, more than a hundred
+feet across. These cars of the younger members of the Chamber of
+Commerce and the Merchants' and Manufacturers' Association were well
+behaved--they were accustomed to sliding precisely into place
+according to orders of a megaphone man, when receptions were being
+given, or when the younger members and their wives and
+fiancees, clad in soft silks and satins, came rolling up to
+their dinner-parties and dances.
+
+The cars came and came, until there was just room enough for the
+last one to slide in. Then at a shouted command, "Number one!" a
+group of men stepped out of one of the cars, dragging a handcuffed
+prisoner. It was Michael Dubin, the young Jewish tailor who had
+spent fifteen days in jail with Peter. Michael was a student and
+dreamer, and not used to scenes of violence; also, he belonged to a
+race which expresses its emotions, and consequently is offensive to
+100% Americans. He screamed and moaned while the masked men
+un-handcuffed him, and took off his coat and tore his shirt in the
+back. They dragged him to a tree in the center of the ring, a
+somewhat smaller tree, just right for his wrists to meet around and
+be handcuffed again. There he stood in the blinding glare of thirty
+or forty cars, writhing and moaning, while one of the black-masked
+men stripped off his coat and got ready for action. He produced a
+long black-snake whip, and stood poised for a moment; then in a
+booming voice the man with the megaphone shouted, "Go!" and the whip
+whistled thru the air and was laid across the back of Michael, and
+tore into the flesh so that the blood leaped into sight. There was a
+scream of anguish, and the victim began to twist and turn and kick
+about as if in his death-throes. Again the whip whistled, and again
+you heard the thud as it tore into the flesh, and another red stripe
+leaped to view.
+
+Now the younger members of the Chamber of Commerce and the
+Merchants' and Manufacturers' Association were in excellent
+condition for this evening's labor. They were not pale and thin,
+underfed and overworked, as were their prisoners; they were sleek
+and rosy, and ashine with health. It was as if long years ago their
+fathers had foreseen the Red menace, and the steps that would have
+to be taken to preserve 100% Americanism; the fathers had imported a
+game which consisted of knocking little white balls around a field
+with various styles and sizes of clubs. They had built magnificent
+club-houses out here in the suburbs, and had many hundreds of acres
+of ground laid out for this game, and would leave their occupations
+of merchanting and manufacturing early in the afternoon, in order to
+repair to these fields and keep their muscles in condition. They
+would hold tournaments, and vie with one another, and tell over the
+stories of the mighty strokes which they had made with their clubs,
+and of the hundreds of strokes they had made in a single afternoon.
+So the man with the black-snake whip was "fit," and didn't need to
+stop for breath. Stroke after stroke he laid on, with a splendid
+rhythmic motion; he kept it up easily, on and on. Had he forgotten?
+
+Did he think this was a little white ball he was swinging down upon?
+He kept on and on, until you could no longer count the welts, until
+the whole back of Michael Dubin was a mass of raw and bleeding
+flesh. The screams of Michael Dubin died away, and his convulsive
+struggling ceased, and his head hung limp, and he sunk lower and
+lower upon the tree.
+
+At last the master of ceremonies stepped forward and ordered a halt,
+and the man with the whip wiped the sweat from his forehead with his
+shirt-sleeve, and the other men unchained the body of Michael Dubin,
+and dragged it a few feet to one side and dumped it face downward in
+the pine-leaves.
+
+"Number two!" called the master of ceremonies, in a clear,
+compelling voice, as if he were calling the figures of a quadrille;
+and from another car another set of men emerged, dragging another
+prisoner. It was Bert Glikas, a "blanket-stiff" who was a member of
+the I. W. W.'s executive committee, and had had two teeth knocked
+out in a harvest-strike only a couple of weeks previously. While
+they were getting off his coat, he managed to get one hand free, and
+he shook it at the spectators behind the white lights of the
+automobiles. "God damn you!" he yelled; and so they tied him up, and
+a fresh man stepped forward and picked up the whip, and spit on his
+hands for good luck, and laid on with a double will; and at every
+stroke Glikas yelled a fresh curse; first in English, and then, as
+if he were delirious, in some foreign language. But at last his
+curses died away, and he too sank insensible, and was unhitched and
+dragged away and dumped down beside the first man. "Number three!"
+called the master of ceremonies.
+
+
+
+
+Section 60
+
+
+Now Peter was sitting in the back seat of his car, wearing the mask
+which McGivney had given him, a piece of cloth with two holes for
+his eyes and another hole for him to breathe thru. Peter hated these
+Reds, and wanted them punished, but he was not used to bloody
+sights, and was finding this endless thud, thud of the whip on human
+flesh rather more than he could stand. Why had he come? This wasn't
+his part of the job of saving his country from the Red menace. He
+had done his share in pointing out the dangerous ones; he was a man
+of brains, not a man of violence. Peter saw that the next victim was
+Tom Duggan with his broken and bloody nose, and in spite of himself,
+Peter started with dismay. He realized that without intending it he
+had become a little fond of Tom Duggan. For all his queerness,
+Duggan was loyal, he was a good fellow when you had got underneath
+his surly manners. He had never done anything except just to
+grumble, and to put his grumbles into verses; they were making a
+mistake in whipping him, and for a moment Peter had a crazy impulse
+to interfere and tell them so.
+
+The poet never made a sound. Peter got one glimpse of his face in
+the blazing white light, and in spite of the fact that it was
+smashed and bloody, Peter read Tom Duggan's resolve--he would die
+before they would get a moan out of him. Each time the lash fell you
+could see a quiver all over his form; but there was never a sound,
+and he stood, hugging the tree in a convulsive grip. They lashed him
+until the whip was spattering blood all over them, until blood was
+running to the ground. They had taken the precaution to bring along
+a doctor with a little black case, and he now stepped up and
+whispered to the master of ceremonies. They unfastened Duggan, and
+broke the grip of his arms about the tree, and dumped him down
+beside Glikas.
+
+Next came the turn of Donald Gordon, the Socialist Quaker, which
+brought a bit of cheap drama. Donald took his religion seriously; he
+was always shouting his anti-war sentiments in the name of Jesus,
+which made him especially obnoxious. Now he saw a chance to get off
+one of his theatrical stunts; he raised his two manacled hands into
+the air as if he were praying, and shouted in piercing tones:
+"Father, forgive them, for they know not what they do!"
+
+A murmur started in the crowd; you could hear it mounting to a roar.
+"Blasphemy!" they cried. "Stop his dirty mouth!" It was the same
+mouth that had been heard on a hundred platforms, denouncing the war
+and those who made money out of the war. They were here now, the men
+who had been denounced, the younger members of the Chamber of
+Commerce and the Merchants' and Manufacturers' Association, the best
+people of the city, those who were saving the country, and charging
+no more than the service was worth. So they roared with fury at this
+sacreligious upstart. A man whose mask was a joke, because he was so
+burly and hearty that everybody in the crowd knew him, took up the
+bloody whip. It was Billy Nash, secretary of the "Improve America
+League," and the crowd shouted, "Go to it, Billy! Good eye, old
+boy!" Donald Gordon might tell God that Billy Nash didn't know what
+he was doing, but Billy thought that he knew, and he meant before he
+got thru to convince Donald that he knew. It didn't take very long,
+because there was nothing much to the young Quaker but voice, and he
+fainted at the fourth or fifth stroke, and after the twentieth
+stroke the doctor interfered.
+
+Then came the turn of Grady, secretary of the I. W. W., and here a
+terrible thing happened. Grady, watching this scene from one of the
+cars, had grown desperate, and when they loosed the handcuffs to get
+off his coat, he gave a sudden wrench and broke free, striking down
+one man after another. He had been brought up in the lumber country,
+and his strength was amazing, and before the crowd quite realized
+it, he was leaping between two of the cars. A dozen men sprang upon
+him from a dozen directions, and he went down in the midst of a wild
+melee. They pinned him with his face mashed into the dirt, and from
+the crowd there rose a roar as from wild beasts in the night-time,
+
+"String him up! String him up!" One man came running with a rope,
+shouting, "Hang him!"
+
+The master of ceremonies tried to protest thru his megaphone, but
+the instrument was knocked out of his hands, and he was hauled to
+one side, and presently there was a man climbing up the pine tree
+and hanging the rope over a limb. You could not see Grady for the
+jostling throng about him, but suddenly there was a yell from the
+crowd, and you saw him quite plainly--he shot high up into the air,
+with the rope about his neck and his feet kicking wildly.
+Underneath, men danced about and yelled and waved their hats in the
+air, and one man leaped up and caught one of the kicking feet and
+hung onto it.
+
+Then, above all the din, a voice was heard thru the megaphone, "Let
+him down a bit! Let me get at him!" And those who held the rope gave
+way, and the body came down toward the ground, still kicking, and a
+man took out a clasp-knife, and cut the clothing away from the body,
+and cut off something from the body; there was another yell from the
+crowd, and the men in the automobiles slapped their knees and
+shrieked with satisfaction. Those in the car with Peter whispered
+that it was Ogden, son of the president of the Chamber of Commerce;
+and all over town next day and for weeks thereafter men would nudge
+one another, and whisper about what Bob Ogden had done to the body
+of Shawn Grady, secretary of the "damned wobblies." And every one
+who nudged and whispered about it felt certain that by this means
+the Red Terror had been forever suppressed, and 100% Americanism
+vindicated, and a peaceful solution of the problem of capital and
+labor made certain.
+
+Strange as it might seem, there was one member of the I. W. W. who
+agreed with them. One of the victims of that night had learned his
+lesson! When Tom Duggan was able to sit up again, which was six
+weeks later, he wrote an article about his experience, which was
+published in an I. W. W. paper, and afterwards in pamphlet form was
+read by many hundreds of thousands of workingmen. In it the poet
+said:
+
+"The preamble of the I. W. W. opens with the statement that the
+employing class and the working class have nothing in common; but on
+this occasion I learned that the preamble is mistaken. On this
+occasion I saw one thing in common between the employing class and
+the working class, and that thing was a black-snake whip. The butt
+end of the whip was in the hands of the employing class, and the
+lash of the whip was on the backs of the working class, and thus to
+all eternity was symbolized the truth about the relationship of the
+classes!"
+
+
+
+
+Section 61
+
+
+Peter awoke next morning with a vivid sense of the pain and terror
+of life. He had been clamoring to have those Reds punished; but
+somehow or other he had thought of this punishment in an abstract
+way, a thing you could attend to by a wave of the hand. He hadn't
+quite realized the physical side of it, what a messy and bloody job
+it would prove. Two hours and more he had listened to the thud of a
+whip on human flesh, and each separate stroke had been a blow upon
+his own nerves. Peter had an overdose of vengeance; and now, the
+morning after, his conscience was gnawing at him. He had known every
+one of those boys, and their faces rose up to haunt him. What had
+any of them done to deserve such treatment? Could he say that he had
+ever known a single one of them to do anything as violent as the
+thing they had all suffered?
+
+But more than anything else Peter was troubled by fear. Peter, the
+ant, perceived the conflict of the giants becoming more ferocious,
+and realized the precariousness of his position under the giants'
+feet. The passions of both sides were mounting, and the fiercer
+their hate became, the greater the chance of Peter's being
+discovered, the more dreadful his fate if he were discovered. It was
+all very well for McGivney to assure him that only four of Guffey's
+men knew the truth, and that all these might be trusted to the
+death. Peter remembered a remark he had heard Shawn Grady make, and
+which had caused him to lose his appetite for more than one meal.
+"They've got spies among us," the young Irishman had said. "Well,
+sooner or later we'll do a bit of spying of our own!"
+
+And now these words came back to Peter like a voice from the grave.
+Suppose one of the Reds who had money were to hire somebody to get a
+job in Guffey's office! Suppose some Red girl were to try Peter's
+device, and seduce one of Guffey's men--by no means a difficult
+task! The man mightn't even mean to reveal that Peter Gudge was a
+secret agent; he might just let it slip, as little Jennie had let
+slip the truth about Jack Ibbetts! Thus Mac would know who had
+framed him up; and what would Mac do to Peter when he got out on
+bail? When Peter thought of things like that he realized what it
+meant to go to war; he saw that he had gained nothing by staying at
+home, he might as well have been in the front-line trenches! After
+all, this was war, class-war; and in all war the penalty for spying
+is death.
+
+Also Peter was worried about Nell. She had been in her new position
+for nearly a week, and he hadn't heard a word from her. She had
+forbidden him to write, for fear he might write something
+injudicious. Let him just wait, Edythe Eustace would know how to
+take care of herself. And that was all right, Peter had no doubt
+about the ability of Edythe Eustace to take care of herself. What
+troubled him was the knowledge that she was working on another
+"frame-up," and he stood in fear of the exuberance of her
+imagination. The last time that imagination had been pregnant, it
+had presented him with a suit-case full of dynamite. What it might
+bring forth next time he did not know, and was afraid to think. Nell
+might cause him to be found out by Guffey; and that would be nearly
+as horrible as to be found out by Mac!
+
+Peter got his morning "Times," and found a whole page about the
+whipping of the Reds, portraying the job as a patriotic duty
+heroically performed; and that naturally cheered Peter up
+considerably. He turned to the editorial page, and read a two column
+"leader" that was one whoop of exultation. It served still more to
+cure Peter's ache of conscience; and when he read on and found a
+series of interviews with leading citizens, giving cordial
+endorsement to the acts of the "vigilantes," Peter became ashamed of
+his weakness, and glad that he had not revealed it to anyone. Peter
+was trying his best to become a real "he-man," a 100% red-blooded
+American, and he had the "Times" twice each day, morning and
+evening, to guide, sustain and inspire him.
+
+Peter had been told by McGivney to fix himself up and pose as one of
+the martyrs of the night's affair, and this appealed to his sense of
+humor. He cut off the hair from a part of his head, and stuck some
+raw cotton on top, and plastered it over with surgical tape. He
+stuck another big wad of surgical tape across his forehead, and a
+criss-cross of it on his cheek, and tied up his wrist in an
+excellent imitation of a sprain. Thus rigged out he repaired to the
+American House, and McGivney rewarded him with a hearty laugh, and
+then proceeded to give some instructions which, entirely restored
+Peter's usual freshness of soul. Peter was going up on Mount Olympus
+again!
+
+The rat-faced man explained in detail. There was a lady of great
+wealth--indeed, she was said to be several times a millionaire--who
+was an openly avowed Red, a pacifist of the most malignant variety.
+Since the arrest of young Lackman she had come forward and put up
+funds to finance the "People's Council," and the "Anti-Conscription
+League," and all the other activities which for the sake of
+convenience were described by the term "pro-German." The only
+trouble was this lady was so extremely wealthy it was hard to do
+anything to her. Her husband was a director in a couple of Nelse
+Ackerman's banks, and had other powerful connections. The husband
+was a violent, anti-Socialist, and a buyer of liberty bonds; he
+quarrelled with his wife, but nevertheless he did not want to see
+her in jail, and this made an embarrassing situation for the police
+and the district attorney's office, and even for the Federal
+authorities, who naturally did not want to trouble one of the
+courtiers of the king of American City. "But something's got to be
+done," said McGivney. "This camouflaged German propaganda can't go
+on." So Peter was to try to draw Mrs. Godd into some kind of "overt
+action."
+
+"Mrs. Godd?" said Peter. It seemed to him a singular coincidence
+that one of the dwellers on Mount Olympus should bear that name. The
+great lady lived on a hilltop out in the suburbs, not so far from
+the hilltop of Nelse Ackerman. One of the adventures looked forward
+to by Reds and pacifists in distress was to make a pilgrimage to
+this palace and obtain some long, green plasters to put over their
+wounds. Now was the time at all times for Peter to go, said
+McGivney. Peter had many wounds to be plastered, and Mrs. Godd would
+be indignant at the proceedings of last night, and would no doubt
+express herself without restraint.
+
+
+
+
+Section 62
+
+
+Peter hadn't been so excited since the time when he had waited to
+meet young Lackman. He had never quite forgiven himself for this
+costly failure, and now he was to have another chance. He took a
+trolley ride out into the country, and walked a couple of miles to
+the palace on the hilltop, and mounted thru a grove of trees and
+magnificent Italian gardens. According to McGivney's injunctions, he
+summoned his courage, and went to the front door of the stately
+mansion and rang the bell.
+
+Peter was hot and dusty from his long walk, the sweat had made
+streaks down his face and marred the pristine whiteness of his
+plasters. He was never a distinguished-looking person at best, and
+now, holding his damaged straw hat in his hands, he looked not so
+far from a hobo. However, the French maid who came to the door was
+evidently accustomed to strange-looking visitors. She didn't order
+Peter to the servant's entrance, nor threaten him with the dogs; she
+merely said, "Be seated, please. I will tell madame"--putting the
+accent on the second syllable, where Peter had never heard it
+before.
+
+And presently here came Mrs. Godd in her cloud of Olympian
+beneficence; a large and ample lady, especially built for the role
+of divinity. Peter felt suddenly awe-stricken. How had he dared come
+here? Neither in the Hotel de Soto, with its many divinities, nor in
+the palace of Nelse Ackerman, the king, had he felt such a sense of
+his own lowliness as the sight of this calm, slow-moving great lady
+inspired. She was the embodiment of opulence, she was "the real
+thing." Despite the look of kindliness in her wide-open blue eyes,
+she impressed him with a feeling of her overwhelming superiority. He
+did not know it was his duty as a gentleman to rise from his chair
+when a lady entered, but some instinct brought him to his feet and
+caused him to stand blinking as she crossed to him from the opposite
+end of the big room.
+
+"How do you do?" she said in a low, full voice, gazing at him
+steadily out of the kind, wide-open blue eyes. Peter stammered, "How
+d-dy do, M--Mrs. Godd."
+
+In truth, Peter was almost dumb with bewilderment. Could it really,
+possibly be that this grand personage was a Red? One of the things
+that had most offended him about all radicals was their noisiness,
+their aggressiveness; but here was a grand serenity of looks and
+manner, a soft, slow voice--here was beauty, too, a skin unlined,
+despite middle years, and glowing with health and a fine cleanness.
+Nell Doolin had had a glowing complexion, but there was always a lot
+of powder stuck on, and when you investigated closely, as Peter had
+done, you discovered muddy spots in the edges of her hair and on her
+throat. But Mrs. Godd's skin shone just as the skin of a goddess
+would be expected to shine, and everything about her was of a divine
+and compelling opulence. Peter could not have explained just what it
+was that gave this last impression so overwhelmingly. It was not
+that she wore many jewels, or large ones, for Mrs. James had beaten
+her at that; it was not her delicate perfume, for Nell Doolin
+scattered more sweetness on the air; yet somehow even poor, ignorant
+Peter felt the difference--it seemed to him that none of Mrs. Godd's
+costly garments had ever been worn before, that the costly rugs on
+the floor had never been stepped on before, the very chair on which
+he sat had never been sat on before!
+
+Little Ada Ruth had called Mrs. Godd "the mother of all the world;"
+and now suddenly she became the mother of Peter Gudge. She had read
+the papers that morning, she had received a half dozen telephone
+calls from horrified and indignant Reds, and so a few words sufficed
+to explain to her the meaning of Peter's bandages and plasters. She
+held out to him a beautiful cool hand, and quite without warning,
+tears sprang into the great blue eyes.
+
+"Oh, you are one of those poor boys! Thank God they did not kill
+you!" And she led him to a soft couch and made him lie down amid
+silken pillows. Peter's dream of Mount Olympus had come literally
+true! It occurred to him that if Mrs. Godd were willing to play
+permanently the role of mother to Peter Gudge, he would be willing
+to give up his role of anti-Red agent with its perils and its
+nervous strains; he would forget duty, forget the world's strife and
+care; he would join the lotus-eaters, the sippers of nectar on Mount
+Olympus!
+
+She sat and talked to him in the soft, gentle voice, and the kind
+blue eyes watched him, and Peter thought that never in all his life
+had he encountered such heavenly emotions. To be sure, when he had
+gone to see Miriam Yankovich, old Mrs. Yankovich had been just as
+kind, and tears of sympathy had come into her eyes just the same.
+But then, Mrs. Yankovich was nothing but a fat old Jewess, who lived
+in a tenement and smelt of laundry soap and partly completed
+washing; her hands had been hot and slimy, and so Peter had not been
+in the least grateful for her kindness. But to encounter tender
+emotions in these celestial regions, to be talked to maternally and
+confidentially by this wonderful Mrs. Godd in soft white chiffons
+just out of a band-box _this _was quite another matter!
+
+
+
+
+Section 63
+
+
+Peter did not want to set traps for this mother of Mount Olympus, he
+didn't want to worm any secrets from her. And as it happened, he
+found that he did not have to, because she told him everything right
+away, and without the slightest hesitation. She talked just as the
+"wobblies" had talked in their headquarters; and Peter, when he
+thought it over, realized that there are two kinds of people who can
+afford to be frank in their utterance--those who have nothing to
+lose, and those who have so much to lose that they cannot possibly
+lose it.
+
+Mrs. Godd said that what had been done to those men last night was a
+crime, and it ought to be punished if ever a crime was punished, and
+that she would like to engage detectives and get evidence against
+the guilty ones. She said furthermore that she sympathized with the
+Reds of the very reddest shade, and if there were any color redder
+than Red she would be of that color. She said all this in her quiet,
+soft voice. Tears came into her eyes now and then, but they were
+well-behaved tears, they disappeared of their own accord, and
+without any injury to Mrs. Godd's complexion, or any apparent effect
+upon her self-possession.
+
+Mrs. Godd said that she didn't see how anybody could fail to be a
+Red who thought about the injustices of present-day society. Only a
+few days before she had been in to see the district attorney, and
+had tried to make a Red out of him! Then she told Peter how there
+had come to see her a man who had pretended to be a radical, but she
+had realized that he didn't know anything about radicalism, and had
+told him she was sure he was a government agent. The man had finally
+admitted it, and showed her his gold star--and then Mrs. Godd had
+set to work to convert him! She had argued with him for an hour or
+two, and then had invited him to go to the opera with her. "And do
+you know," said Mrs. Godd, in an injured tone, "he wouldn't go! They
+don't want to be converted, those men; they don't want to listen to
+reason. I believe the man was actually afraid I might influence
+him."
+
+"I shouldn't wonder," put in Peter, sympathetically; for he was a
+tiny bit afraid himself.
+
+"I said to him, `Here I live in this palace, and back in the
+industrial quarter of the city are several thousand men and women
+who slave at machines for me all day, and now, since the war, all
+night too. I get the profits of these peoples' toil--and what have I
+done to earn it? Absolutely nothing! I never did a stroke of useful
+work in my life.' And he said to me, `Suppose the dividends were to
+stop, what would you do?' 'I don't know what I'd do,' I answered,
+`I'd be miserable, of course, because I hate poverty, I couldn't
+stand it, it's terrible to think of--not to have comfort and
+cleanliness and security. I don't see how the working-class stand
+it--that's exactly why I'm a Red, I know it's wrong for anyone to be
+poor, and there's no excuse for it. So I shall help to overthrow the
+capitalist system, even if it means I have to take in washing for my
+living!"
+
+Peter sat watching her in the crisp freshness of her snowy chiffons.
+The words brought a horrible image to his mind; he suddenly found
+himself back in the tenement kitchen, where fat and steaming Mrs.
+Yankovich was laboring elbow deep in soap-suds. It was on the tip of
+Peter's tongue to say: "If you really had done a day's washing, Mrs.
+Godd, you wouldn't talk like that!"
+
+But he remembered that he must play the game, so he said, "They're
+terrible fellows, them Federal agents. It was two of them pounded me
+over the head last night." And then he looked faint and pitiful, and
+Mrs. Godd was sympathetic again, and moved to more recklessness of
+utterance.
+
+"It's because of this hideous war!" she declared. "We've gone to war
+to make the world safe for democracy, and meantime we have to
+sacrifice every bit of democracy at home. They tell you that you
+must hold your peace while they murder one another, but they may try
+all they please, they'll never be able to silence me! I know that
+the Allies are just as much to blame as the Germans, I know that
+this is a war of profiteers and bankers; they may take my sons and
+force them into the army, but they cannot take my convictions and
+force them into their army. I am a pacifist, and I am an
+internationalist; I want to see the workers arise and turn out of
+office these capitalist governments, and put an end to this hideous
+slaughter of human beings. I intend to go on saying that so long as
+I live." There sat Mrs. Godd, with her lovely firm white hands
+clasped as if in prayer, one large diamond ring on the left fourth
+finger shining defiance, and a look of calm, child-like conviction
+upon her face, confronting in her imagination all the federal agents
+and district attorneys and capitalist judges and statesmen and
+generals and drill sergeants in the civilized world.
+
+She went on to tell how she had attended the trial of three pacifist
+clergymen a week or two previously. How atrocious that Christians in
+a Christian country should be sent to prison for trying to repeat
+the words of Christ! "I was so indignant," declared Mrs. Godd, "that
+I wrote a letter to the judge. My husband said I would be committing
+contempt of court by writing to a judge during the trial, but I
+answered that my contempt for that court was beyond anything I could
+put into writing. Wait--"
+
+And Mrs. Godd rose gravely from her chair and went over to a desk by
+the wall, and got a copy of the letter. "I'll read it to you," she
+said, and Peter listened to a manifesto of Olympian Bolshevism--
+
+To His Honor:
+
+As I entered the sanctuary, I gazed upward to the stained glass
+dome, upon which were inscribed four words: Peace. Justice. Truth.
+Law--and I felt hopeful. Before me were men who had violated no
+constitutional right, who had not the slightest criminal tendency,
+who, were opposed to violence of every kind.
+
+The trial proceeded. I looked again at the beautiful stained glass
+dome, and whispered to myself those majestic-sounding words: "Peace.
+Justice. Truth. Law." I listened to the prosecutors; the Law in
+their hands was a hard, sharp, cruel blade, seeking insistently,
+relentlessly for a weak spot in the armor of its victims. I listened
+to their Truth, and it was Falsehood. Their Peace was a cruel and
+bloody War. Their justice was a net to catch the victims at any
+cost--at the cost of all things but the glory of the Prosecutor's
+office.
+
+I grew sick at heart. I can only ask myself the old, old question:
+What can we, the people do? How can we bring Peace, justice, Truth
+and Law to the world? Must we go on bended knees and ask our public
+servants to see that justice is done to the defenceless, rather than
+this eternal prosecuting of the world's noblest souls! You will find
+these men guilty, and sentence them to be shut behind iron
+bars--which should never be for human beings, no matter what their
+crime, unless you want to make beasts of them. Is that your object,
+sir? It would seem so; and so I say that we must overturn the system
+that is brutalizing, rather than helping and uplifting mankind.
+
+Yours for Peace..Justice..Truth..Law--
+
+Mary Angelica Godd.
+
+What were you going to do with such a woman? Peter could understand
+the bewilderment of His Honor, and of the district attorney's
+office, and of the secret service department of the Traction
+Trust--as well as of Mrs. Godd's husband! Peter was bewildered
+himself; what was the use of his coming out here to get more
+information, when Mrs. Godd had already committed contempt of court
+in writing, and had given all the information there was to give to a
+Federal agent? She had told this man that she had contributed
+several thousand dollars to the Peoples' Council, and that she
+intended to contribute more. She had put up bail for a whole bunch
+of Reds and Pacifists, and she intended to put up bail for McCormick
+and his friends, just as soon as the corrupt capitalist courts had
+been forced to admit them to bail. "I know McCormick well, and he's
+a lovely boy," she said. "I don't believe he had anything more to do
+with dynamite bombs than I have."
+
+Now all this time Peter had sat there, entirely under the spell of
+Mrs. Godd's opulence. Peter was dwelling among the lotus-eaters, and
+forgetting the world's strife and care; he was reclining on a silken
+couch, sipping nectar with the shining ones of Mount Olympus. But
+now suddenly, Peter was brought back to duty, as one wakes from a
+dream to the sound of an alarm-clock. Mrs. Godd was a friend of
+Mac's, Mrs. Godd proposed to get Mac out on bail! Mac, the most
+dangerous Red of them all! Peter saw that he must get something on
+this woman at once!
+
+
+
+
+Section 64
+
+
+Peter sat up suddenly among his silken cushions, and began to tell
+Mrs. Godd about the new plan of the Anti-conscription League, to
+prepare a set of instructions for young conscientious objectors.
+Peter represented the purpose of these instructions to be the
+advising of young men as to their legal and constitutional rights.
+But it was McGivney's idea that Peter should slip into the
+instructions some phrase advising the young men to refuse military
+duty; if this were printed and circulated, it would render every
+member of the Anti-conscription League liable to a sentence of ten
+or twenty years in jail. McGivney had warned Peter to be very
+cautious about this, but again Peter found that there was no need of
+caution. Mrs. Godd was perfectly willing to advise young men to
+refuse military service. She had advised many such, she said,
+including her own sons, who unfortunately agreed with their father
+in being blood-thirsty.
+
+It came to be lunch-time, and Mrs. Godd asked if Peter could sit at
+table--and Peter's curiosity got the better of all caution. He
+wanted to see the Godd family sipping their nectar out of golden
+cups. He wondered, would the disapproving husband and the
+blood-thirsty sons be present?
+
+There was nobody present but an elderly woman companion, and Peter
+did not see any golden cups. But he saw some fine china, so fragile
+that he was afraid to touch it, and he saw a row of silver
+implements, so heavy that it gave him a surprise each time he picked
+one up. Also, he saw foods prepared in strange and complicated ways,
+so chopped up and covered with sauces that it was literally true he
+couldn't give the name of a single thing he had eaten, except the
+buttered toast.
+
+He was inwardly quaking with embarrassment during this meal, but he
+saved himself by Mrs. James's formula, to watch and see what the
+others were doing and then do likewise. Each time a new course was
+brought, Peter would wait, and when he saw Mrs. Godd pick up a
+certain fork or a certain spoon, he would pick up the same one, or
+as near to it as he could guess. He could put his whole mind on
+this, because he didn't have to do any talking; Mrs. Godd poured out
+a steady stream of sedition and high treason, and all Peter had to
+do was to listen and nod. Mrs. Godd would understand that his mouth
+was too full for utterance.
+
+After the luncheon they went out on the broad veranda which
+overlooked a magnificent landscape. The hostess got Peter settled in
+a soft porch chair with many cushions, and then waved her hand
+toward the view of the city with its haze of thick black smoke.
+
+"That's where my wage slaves toil to earn my dividends," said she.
+"They're supposed to stay there--in their `place,' as it's called,
+and I stay here in my place. If they want to change places, it's
+called `revolution,' and that is `violence.' What I marvel at is
+that they use so little violence, and feel so little. Look at those
+men being tortured in jail! Could anyone blame them if they used
+violence? Or if they made an effort to escape?"
+
+That suggested a swift, stabbing idea to Peter. Suppose Mrs. Godd
+could be induced to help in a jail delivery!
+
+"It might be possible to help them to escape," he suggested.
+
+"Do you think so?" asked Mrs. Godd, showing excitement for the
+first time during that interview.
+
+"It might be," said Peter. "Those jailors are not above taking
+bribes, you know. I met nearly all of them while I was in that jail,
+and I think I might get in touch with one or two that could be paid.
+Would you like me to try it?"
+
+"Well, I don't know--" began the lady, hesitatingly. "Do you really
+think--"
+
+"You know they never ought to have been put in at all!" Peter
+interjected.
+
+"That's certainly true!" declared Mrs. Godd.
+
+"And if they could escape without hurting anyone, if they didn't
+have to fight the jailors, it wouldn't do any real harm--"
+
+That was as far as Peter got with his impromptu conspiracy. Suddenly
+he heard a voice behind him: "What does this mean?" It was a male
+voice, fierce and trembling with anger; and Peter started from his
+silken cushions, and glanced around, thrusting up one arm with the
+defensive gesture of a person who has been beaten since earliest
+childhood.
+
+Bearing down on him was a man; possibly he was not an abnormally big
+man, but certainly he looked so to Peter. His smooth-shaven face was
+pink with anger, his brows gathered in a terrible frown, and his
+hands clenched with deadly significance. "You dirty little skunk!"
+he hissed. "You infernal young sneak!"
+
+"John!" cried Mrs. Godd, imperiously; but she might as well have
+cried to an advancing thunder-storm. The man made a leap upon Peter,
+and Peter, who had dodged many hundreds of blows in his lifetime,
+rolled off the lounging chair, and leaped to his feet, and started
+for the stairs of the veranda. The man was right behind him, and as
+Peter reached the first stair the man's foot shot out, and caught
+Peter fairly in the seat of his trousers, and the first stair was
+the only one of the ten or twelve stairs of the veranda that Peter
+touched in his descent.
+
+Landing at the bottom, he did not stop even for a glance; he could
+hear the snorting of Mr. Godd, it seemed right behind his ear, and
+Peter ran down the driveway as he had seldom run in his life before.
+Every now and then Mr. Godd would shoot out another kick, but he had
+to stop slightly to do this, and Peter gained just enough to keep
+the kicks from reaching him. So at last the pursuer gave up, and
+Peter dashed thru the gates of the Godd estate and onto the main
+highway.
+
+Then he looked over his shoulder, and seeing that Mr. Godd was a
+safe distance away, he stopped and turned and shook his clenched
+fist with the menace of a street-rat, shrieking, "Damn you! Damn
+you!" A whirlwind of impotent rage laid hold upon him. He shouted
+more curses and menaces, and among them some strange, some almost
+incredible words. "Yes, I'm a Red, damn your soul, and I'll stay a
+Red!"
+
+Yes, Peter Gudge, the friend of law and order, Peter Gudge, the
+little brother to the rich, shouted, "I'm a Red, and what's more,
+we'll blow you up some day for this--Mac and me'll put a bomb under
+you!" Mr. Godd turned and stalked with contemptuous dignity back to
+his own private domestic controversy.
+
+Peter walked off down the road, rubbing his sore trousers and
+sobbing to himself. Yes, Peter understood now exactly how the Reds
+felt. Here were these rich parasites, exploiting the labor of
+working men and living off in palaces by themselves--and what had
+they done to earn it? What would they ever do for the poor man,
+except to despise him, and to kick him in the seat of his trousers?
+They were a set of wilful brutes! Peter suddenly saw the happenings
+of last night from a new angle, and wished he had all the younger
+members of the Chamber of Commerce and the Merchants' and
+Manufacturers' Association right there along with Mr. Godd, so that
+he could bundle them all off to the devil at once.
+
+And that was no passing mood either. The seat of Peter's trousers
+hurt so that he could hardly endure the trolley ride home, and all
+the way Peter was plotting how he could punish Mr. Godd. He
+remembered suddenly that Mr. Godd was an associate of Nelse
+Ackerman; and Peter now had a spy in Nelse Ackerman's home, and was
+preparing some kind of a "frame-up!" Peter would see if he couldn't
+find some way to start a dynamite conspiracy against Mr. Godd! He
+would start a campaign against Mr. Godd in the radical movement, and
+maybe he could find some way to get a bunch of the "wobblies" to
+carry him off and tie him up and beat him with a black-snake whip!
+
+
+
+
+Section 65
+
+
+With these reflections Peter went back to the American House, where
+McGivney had promised to meet him that evening. Peter went to Room
+427, and being tired after the previous night's excitement, he lay
+down and fell fast asleep. And when again he opened his eyes, he
+wasn't sure whether it was a nightmare, or whether he had died in
+his sleep and gone to hell with Mr. Godd. Somebody was shaking him,
+and bidding him in a gruff voice, "Wake up!" Peter opened his eyes,
+and saw that it was McGivney; and that was all right, it was natural
+that McGivney should be waking him up. But what was this? McGivney's
+voice was angry, McGivney's face was dark and glowering, and--most
+incredible circumstance of all--McGivney had a revolver in his hand,
+and was pointing it into Peter's face!
+
+It really made it much harder for Peter to get awake, because he
+couldn't believe that he was awake; also it made it harder for
+McGivney to get any sense out of him, because his jaw hung down, and
+he stared with terrified eyes into the muzzle of the revolver.
+
+"M-m-my God, Mr. McGivney! w-w-what's the matter?"
+
+"Get up here!" hissed the rat-faced man, and he added a vile name.
+He gripped Peter by the lapel of his coat and half jerked him to his
+feet, still keeping the muzzle of the revolver in Peter's face. And
+poor Peter, trying desperately to get his wits together, thought of
+half a dozen wild guesses one after another. Could it be that
+McGivney had heard him denouncing Mr. Godd and proclaiming himself a
+Red? Could it be that some of the Reds had framed up something on
+Peter? Could it be that McGivney had gone just plain crazy; that
+Peter was in the room with a maniac armed with a revolver?
+
+"Where did you put that money I gave you the other day;" demanded
+McGivney, and added some more vile names.
+
+Instantly, of course, Peter was on the defensive. No matter how
+frightened he might be, Peter would never fail to hang on to his
+money.
+
+"I-I s-s-spent it, Mr. McGivney."
+
+"You're lying to me!"
+
+"N-n-no."
+
+"Tell me where you put that money!" insisted the man, and his face
+was ugly with anger, and the muzzle of the revolver seemed to be
+trembling with anger. Peter started to insist that he had spent
+every cent. "Make him cough up, Hammett!" said McGivney; and Peter
+for the first time realized that there was another man in the room.
+His eyes had been so fascinated by the muzzle of the revolver that
+he hadn't taken a glance about.
+
+Hammett was a big fellow, and he strode up to Peter and grabbed one
+of Peter's arms, and twisted it around behind Peter's back and up
+between Peter's shoulders. When Peter started to scream, Hammett
+clapped his other hand over his mouth, and so Peter knew that it was
+all up. He could not hold on to money at that cost. When McGivney
+asked him, "Will you tell me where it is?" Peter nodded, and tried
+to answer thru his nose.
+
+So Hammett took his hand from his mouth. "Where is it?" And Peter
+replied, "In my right shoe."
+
+Hammett unlaced the shoe and took it off, and pulled out the inside
+sole, and underneath was a little flat package wrapped in tissue
+paper, and inside the tissue paper was the thousand dollars that
+McGivney had given Peter, and also the three hundred dollars which
+Peter had saved from Nelse Ackerman's present, and two hundred
+dollars which he had saved from his salary. Hammett counted the
+money, and McGivney stuck it into his pocket, and then he commanded
+Peter to put on his shoe again. Peter obeyed with his trembling
+fingers, meantime keeping his eye in part on the revolver and in
+part on the face of the rat.
+
+"W-w-what's the matter, Mr. McGivney?"
+
+"You'll find out in time," was the answer. "Now, you march
+downstairs, and remember, I've got this gun on you, and there's
+eight bullets in it, and if you move a finger I'll put them all into
+you."
+
+So Peter and McGivney and Hammett went down in the elevator of the
+hotel, and out of doors, and into an automobile. Hammett drove, and
+Peter sat in the rear seat with McGivney, who had the revolver in
+his coat pocket, his finger always on the trigger and the muzzle
+always pointed into Peter's middle. So Peter obeyed all orders
+promptly, and stopped asking questions because he found he could get
+no answers.
+
+Meantime he was using his terrified wits on the problem. The best
+guess he could make was that Guffey had decided to believe Joe
+Angell's story instead of Peter's. But then, why all this gun-play,
+this movie stuff? Peter gave up in despair; and it was just as well,
+for what had happened lay entirely beyond the guessing power of
+Peter's mind or any other mind.
+
+
+
+
+Section 66
+
+
+They went to the office of the secret service department of the
+Traction Trust, a place where Peter had never been allowed to come
+hitherto. It was on the fourteenth floor of the Merchant's Trust
+Building, and the sign on the door read: "The American City Land &
+Investment Company. Walk In." When you walked in, you saw a
+conventional real estate office, and it was only when you had
+penetrated several doors that you came to the secret rooms where
+Guffey and his staff conducted the espionage work of the big
+business interests of the city.
+
+Peter was hustled into one of these rooms, and there stood Guffey;
+and the instant Guffey saw him, he bore down upon him, shaking his
+fist. "You stinking puppy!" he exclaimed. "You miserable little
+whelp! You dirty, sneaking hound!" He added a number of other
+descriptive phrases taken from the vocabulary of the kennel.
+
+Peter's knees were shaking, his teeth were chattering, and he
+watched every motion of Guffey's angry fingers, and every grimace of
+Guffey's angry features. Peter had been fully prepared for the most
+horrible torture he had experienced yet; but gradually he realized
+that he wasn't going to be tortured, he was only going to be scolded
+and raged at, and no words could describe the wave of relief in his
+soul. In the course of his street-rat's life Peter had been called
+more names than Guffey could think of if he spent the next month
+trying. If all Guffey was going to do was to pace up and down the
+room, and shake his fist under Peter's nose every time he passed
+him, and compare him with every kind of a domestic animal, Peter
+could stand it all night without a murmur.
+
+He stopped trying to find out what it was that had happened, because
+he saw that this only drove Guffey to fresh fits of exasperation.
+Guffey didn't want to talk to Peter, he didn't want to hear the
+sound of Peter's whining gutter-pup's voice. All he wanted was to
+pour out his rage, and have Peter listen in abject abasement, and
+this Peter did. But meantime, of course, Peter's wits were working
+at high speed, he was trying to pick up hints as to what the devil
+it could mean. One thing was quite clear--the damage, whatever it
+was, was done; the jig was up, it was all over but the funeral. They
+had taken Peter's money to pay for the funeral, and that was all
+they hoped to get out of him.
+
+Gradually came other hints. "So you thought you were going into
+business on your own!" snarled Guffey, and his fist, which was under
+Peter's nose, gave an upward poke that almost dislocated Peter's
+neck.
+
+"Aha!" thought Peter. "Nelse Ackerman has given me away!"
+
+"You thought you were going to make your fortune and retire for life
+on your income!"
+
+Yes, that was it, surely! But what could Nelse Ackerman have told
+that was so very bad?
+
+"You were going to have a spy of your own, set up your own bureau,
+and kick me out, perhaps!"
+
+"My God!" thought Peter. "Who told that?"
+
+Then suddenly Guffey stopped in front of him. "Was that what you
+thought?" he demanded. He repeated the question, and it appeared
+that he really wanted an answer, and so Peter stammered, "N-n-no,
+sir." But evidently the answer didn't suit Guffey, for he grabbed
+Peter's nose and gave it a tweak that brought the tears into his
+eyes.
+
+"What was it then?" A nasty sneer came on the head detective's
+face, and he laughed at Peter with a laugh of venomous contempt. "I
+suppose you thought she really loved you! Was it that? You thought
+she really loved you?" And McGivney and Hammett and Guffey ha-ha-ed
+together, and to Peter it seemed like the mockery of demons in the
+undermost pit of hell. Those words brought every pillar of Peter's
+dream castle tumbling in ruins about his ears. Guffey had found out
+about Nell!
+
+Again and again on the automobile ride to Guffey's office Peter had
+reminded himself of Nell's command, "Stick it out, Peter! Stick it
+out!" He had meant to stick it out in spite of everything; but now
+in a flash he saw that all was lost. How could he stick it out when
+they knew about Nell, and when Nell, herself, was no longer sticking
+it out?
+
+Guffey saw these thoughts plainly written in Peter's face, and his
+sneer turned into a snarl. "So you think you'll tell me the truth
+now, do you? Well, it happens there's nothing left to tell!"
+
+Again he turned and began pacing up and down the room. The pressure
+of rage inside him was so great that it took still more time to work
+it off. But finally the head detective sat down at his desk, and
+opened the drawer and took out a paper. "I see you're sitting there,
+trying to think up some new lie to tell me," said he. And Peter did
+not try to deny it, because any kind of denial only caused a fresh
+access of rage. "All right," Guffey said, "I'll read you this, and
+you can see just where you stand, and just how many kinds of a boob
+you are."
+
+So he started to read the letter; and before Peter had heard one
+sentence, he knew this was a letter from Nell, and he knew that the
+castle of his dreams was flat in the dust forever. The ruins of
+Sargon and Nineveh were not more hopelessly flat!
+
+"Dear Mr. Guffey," read the letter, "I am sorry to throw you down,
+but fifty thousand dollars is a lot of money, and we all get tired
+of work and need a rest. This is to tell you that Ted Crothers has
+just broke into Nelse Ackerman's safe in his home, and we have got
+some liberty bonds and some jewels which we guess to be worth fifty
+thousand dollars, and you know Ted is a good judge of jewels.
+
+"Now of course you will find out that I was working in Mr.
+Ackerman's home and you will be after me hot-foot, so I might as
+well tell you about it, and tell you it won't do you any good to
+catch us, because we have got all the inside dope on the Goober
+frame-up, and everything else your bureau has been pulling off in
+American City for the last year. You can ask Peter Gudge and he'll
+tell you. It was Peter and me that fixed up that dynamite
+conspiracy, but you mustn't blame Peter, because he only did what I
+told him to do. He hasn't got sense enough to be really dangerous,
+and he will make you a perfectly good agent if you treat him kind
+and keep him away from the women. You can do that easy enough if you
+don't let him get any money, because of course he's nothing much on
+looks, and the women would never bother with him if you didn't pay
+him too much.
+
+"Now Peter will tell you how we framed up that dynamite job, and of
+course you wouldn't want that to get known to the Reds, and you may
+be sure that if Ted and me get pinched, we'll find some way to let
+the Reds know all about it. If you keep quiet we'll never say a
+word, and you've got a perfectly good dynamite conspiracy, with all
+the evidence you need to put the Reds out of business, and you can
+just figure it cost you fifty thousand dollars, and it was cheap at
+the price, because Nelse Ackerman has paid a whole lot more for your
+work, and you never got anything half as big as this. I know you'll
+be mad when you read this, but think it over and keep your shirt on.
+I send it to you by messenger so you can get hold of Nelse Ackerman
+right quick, and have him not say anything to the police; because
+you know how it is--if those babies find it out, it will get to the
+Reds and the newspapers, and it'll be all over town and do a lot of
+harm to your frame-up. And you know after those Reds have got beaten
+up and Shawn Grady lynched, you wouldn't like to have any rumor get
+out that that dynamite was planted by your own people. Ted and me
+will keep out of sight, and we won't sell the jewels for a while,
+and everything will be all right.
+
+"Yours respectfully,
+
+"Edythe.
+
+"P. S. It really ain't Peter's fault that he's silly about women,
+and he would have worked for you all right if it hadn't been for my
+good looks!"
+
+
+
+
+Section 67
+
+
+So there it was. When Peter had heard this letter, he understood
+that there was no more to be said, and he said it. His own weight
+had suddenly become more than he could support, and he saw a chair
+nearby and slipped into it, and sat with eyes of abject misery
+roaming from Guffey to McGivney, and from McGivney to Hammett, and
+then back to Guffey again.
+
+The head detective, for all his anger, was a practical man; he could
+not have managed the very important and confidential work of the
+Traction Trust if he had not been. So now he proceeded to get down
+to business. Peter would please tell him everything about that
+dynamite frame-up; just how they had managed it and just who knew
+about it. And Peter, being also a practical man, knew that there was
+no use trying to hide anything. He told the story from beginning to
+end, taking particular pains to make clear that he and Nell alone
+were in the secret---except that beyond doubt Nell had told her
+lover, Ted Crothers. It was probably Crothers that got the dynamite.
+From the conversation that ensued Peter gathered that this young man
+with the face of a bull-dog was one of the very fanciest
+safecrackers in the country, and no doubt he was the real brains of
+the conspiracy; he had put Nell up to it, and managed every step.
+Suddenly Peter remembered all the kisses which Nell had given him in
+the park, and he found a blush of shame stealing over him. Yes,
+there was no doubt about it, he was a boob where women were
+concerned!
+
+Peter began to plead for himself, Really it wasn't his fault because
+Nell had got a hold on him. In the Temple of Jimjambo, when he was
+only a kid, he had been desperately in love with her. She was not
+only beautiful, she was so smart; she was the smartest woman he had
+ever known. McGivney remarked that she had been playing with Peter
+even then--she had been in Guffey's pay at that time, collecting
+evidence to put Pashtian el Kalandra in jail and break up the cult
+of Eleutherinian Exoticism. She had done many such jobs for the
+secret service of the Traction Trust, while Peter was still
+traveling around with Pericles Priam selling patent medicine. Nell
+had been used by Guffey to seduce a prominent labor leader in
+American City; she had got him caught in a hotel room with her, and
+thus had broken the back of the biggest labor strike ever known in
+the city's history.
+
+Peter felt suddenly that he had a good defense. Of course a woman
+like that had been too much for him! It was Guffey's own fault if he
+hired people like that and turned them loose! It suddenly dawned on
+Peter--Nell must have found out that he, Peter, was going to meet
+young Lackman in the Hotel de Soto, and she must have gone there
+deliberately to ensnare him. When McGivney admitted that that was
+possibly true, Peter felt that he had a case, and proceeded to urge
+it with eloquence. He had been a fool, of course, every kind of fool
+there was, and he hadn't a word to say for himself; but he had
+learned his lesson and learned it thoroughly. No more women for him,
+and no more high life, and if Mr. Guffey would give him another
+chance--
+
+Guffey, of course, snorted at him. He wouldn't have a pudding-head
+like Peter Gudge within ten miles of his office! But Peter only
+pleaded the more abjectly. He really did know the Reds thoroughly,
+and where could Mr. Guffey find anybody that knew them as well? The
+Reds all trusted him; he was a real martyr--look at the plasters all
+over him now! And he had just added another Red laurel to his
+brow--he had been to see Mrs. Godd, and had had the seat of his
+trousers kicked by Mr. Godd, and of course he could tell that story,
+and maybe he could catch some Reds in a conspiracy against Mr. Godd.
+Anyhow, they had that perfectly good case against McCormick and the
+rest of the I. W. Ws. And now that things had gone so far, surely
+they couldn't back down on that case! All that was necessary was to
+explain matters to Mr. Ackerman--
+
+Peter realized that this was an unfortunate remark. Guffey was on
+his feet again, pacing up and down the room, calling Peter the names
+of all the barnyard animals, and incidentally revealing that he had
+already had an interview with Mr. Ackerman, and that Mr. Ackerman
+was not disposed to receive amicably the news that the secret
+service bureau which he had been financing, and which was supposed
+to be protecting him, had been the means of introducing into his
+home a couple of high-class criminals who had cracked his safe and
+made off with jewels that they guessed were worth fifty thousand
+dollars, but that Mr. Ackerman claimed were worth eighty-five
+thousand dollars. Peter was informed that he might thank his lucky
+stars that Guffey didn't shut him in the hole for the balance of his
+life, or take him into a dungeon and pull him to pieces inch by
+inch. As it was, all he had to do was to get himself out of Guffey's
+office, and take himself to hell by the quickest route he could
+find. "Go on!" said Guffey. "I mean it, get out!"
+
+And so Peter got to his feet and started unsteadily toward the door.
+He was thinking to himself: "Shall I threaten them? Shall I say I'll
+go over to the Reds and tell what I know?" No, he had better not do
+that; the least hint of that might cause Guffey to put him in the
+hole! But then, how was it possible for Guffey to let him go, to
+take a chance of his telling? Right now, Guffey must be thinking to
+himself that Peter might go away, and in a fit of rage or of despair
+might let out the truth to one of the Reds, and then everything
+would be ruined forever. No, surely Guffey would not take such a
+chance! Peter walked very slowly to the door, he opened the door
+reluctantly, he stood there, holding on as if he were too weak to
+keep his balance; he waited--waited--
+
+And sure enough, Guffey spoke. "Come back here, you mut!" And Peter
+turned and started towards the head detective, stretching out his
+hands in a gesture of submission; if it had been in an Eastern
+country, he would have fallen on his knees and struck his forehead
+three times in the dust. "Please, please, Mr. Guffey!" he wailed.
+"Give me another chance!"
+
+"If I put you to work again," snarled Guffey, "will you do what I
+tell you, and not what you want to do yourself?"
+
+"Yes, yes, Mr. Guffey."
+
+"You'll do no more frame-ups but my frame-ups?"
+
+"Yes, yes, Mr. Guffey."
+
+"All right, then, I'll give you one more chance. But by God, if I
+find you so much as winking at another girl, I'll pull your eye
+teeth out!"
+
+And Peter's heart leaped with relief. "Oh, thank you, thank you, Mr.
+Guffey!"
+
+"I'll pay you twenty dollars a week, and no more," said Guffey.
+"You're worth more, but I can't trust you with money, and you can
+take it or leave it."
+
+"That'll be perfectly satisfactory, Mr. Guffey," said Peter.
+
+
+
+
+Section 68
+
+
+So there was the end of high life for Peter Gudge. He moved no more
+in the celestial circles of Mount Olympus. He never again saw the
+Chinese butler of Mr. Ackerman, nor the French parlor-maid of Mrs.
+Godd. He would no more be smiled at by the two hundred and
+twenty-four boy angels of the ceiling of the Hotel de Soto lobby.
+Peter would eat his meals now seated on a stool in front of a lunch
+counter, he would really be the humble proletarian, the "Jimmie
+Higgins" of his role. He put behind him bright dreams of an
+accumulated competence, and settled down to the hard day's work of
+cultivating the acquaintance of agitators, visiting their homes and
+watching their activities, getting samples of the literature they
+were circulating, stealing their letters and address-books and
+note-books, and taking all these to Room 427 of the American House.
+
+These were busy times just now. In spite of the whippings and the
+lynchings and the jailings--or perhaps because of these very
+things--the radical movement was seething. The I. W. Ws. had
+reorganized secretly, and were accumulating a defense fund for their
+prisoners; also, the Socialists of all shades of red and pink were
+busy, and the labor men had never ceased their agitation over the
+Goober case. Just now they were redoubling their activities, because
+Mrs. Goober was being tried for her life. Over in Russia a mob of
+Anarchists had made a demonstration in front of the American
+Legation, because of the mistreatment of a man they called "Guba."
+At any rate, that was the way the news came over the cables, and the
+news-distributing associations of the country had been so successful
+in keeping the Goober case from becoming known that the editors of
+the New York papers really did not know any better, and printed the
+name as it came, "Guba!" which of course gave the radicals a fine
+chance to laugh at them, and say, how much they cared about labor!
+
+The extreme Reds seemed to have everything their own way in Russia.
+Late in the fall they overthrew the Russian government, and took
+control of the country, and proceeded to make peace with Germany;
+which put the Allies in a frightful predicament, and introduced a
+new word into the popular vocabulary, the dread word "Bolshevik."
+After that, if a man suggested municipal ownership of ice-wagons,
+all you had to do was to call him a "Bolshevik" and he was done for.
+
+However, the extremists replied to this campaign of abuse by taking
+up the name and wearing it as a badge. The Socialist local of
+American City adopted amid a storm of applause a resolution to call
+itself the "Bolshevik local," and the "left-wingers" had everything
+their own way for a time. The leader in this wing was a man named
+Herbert Ashton, editor of the American City "Clarion," the party's
+paper. A newspaper-man, lean, sallow, and incredibly bitter, Ashton
+apparently had spent all his life studying the intrigues of
+international capital, and one never heard an argument advanced that
+he was not ready with an answer. He saw the war as a struggle
+between the old established commercialism of Great Britain, whose
+government he described as "a gigantic trading corporation," and the
+newly arisen and more aggressive commercialism of Germany.
+
+Ashton would take the formulas of the war propagandists and treat
+them as a terrier treats a rat. So this was a war for democracy! The
+bankers of Paris had for the last twenty years been subsidizing the
+Russian Tsars, who had shipped a hundred thousand exiles to Siberia
+to make the world safe for democracy! The British Empire also had
+gone to war for democracy--first in Ireland, then in India and
+Egypt, then in the Whitechapel slums! No, said Ashton, the workers
+were not to be fooled with such bunk. Wall Street had loaned some
+billions of dollars to the Allied bankers, and now the American
+people were asked to shed their blood to make the world safe for
+those loans!
+
+Peter had been urging McGivney to put an end to this sort of
+agitation, and now the rat-faced man told him that the time for
+action had come. There was to be a big mass meeting to celebrate the
+Bolshevik revolution, and McGivney warned Peter to keep out of sight
+at that meeting, because there might be some clubbing. Peter left
+off his red badge, and the button with the clasped hands and went up
+into the gallery and lost himself in the crowd. He saw a great many
+"bulls" whom he knew scattered thru the audience, and also he saw
+the Chief of Police and the head of the city's detective bureau.
+When Herbert Ashton was half way thru his tirade, the Chief strode
+up to the platform and ordered him under arrest, and a score of
+policemen put themselves between the prisoner and the howling
+audience.
+
+Altogether they arrested seven people; and next morning, when they
+saw how much enthusiasm their action had awakened in the newspapers,
+they decided to go farther yet. A dozen of Guffey's men, with
+another dozen from the District Attorney's office, raided the office
+of Ashton's paper, the "Clarion," kicked the editorial staff
+downstairs or threw them out of the windows, and proceeded to smash
+the typewriters and the printing presses, and to carry off the
+subscription lists and burn a ton or two of "literature" in the back
+yard. Also they raided the headquarters of the "Bolshevik local,"
+and placed the seven members of the executive committee under
+arrest, and the judge fixed the bail of each of them at twenty-five
+thousand dollars, and every day for a week or two the American City
+"Times" would send a man around to Guffey's office, and Guffey would
+furnish him with a mass of material which Peter had prepared,
+showing that the Socialist program was one of terrorism and murder.
+
+Almost every day now Peter rendered some such service to his
+country. He discovered where the I. W. W. had hidden a printing
+press with which they were getting out circulars and leaflets, and
+this place was raided, and the press confiscated, and half a dozen
+more agitators thrown into jail. These men declared a hunger strike,
+and tried to starve themselves to death as a protest against the
+beatings they got; and then some hysterical women met in the home of
+Ada Ruth, and drew up a circular of protest, and Peter kept track of
+the mailing of this circular, and all the copies were confiscated in
+the post-office, and so one more conspiracy was foiled. They now had
+several men at work in the post-office, secretly opening the mail of
+the agitators; and every now and then they would issue an order
+forbidding mail to be delivered to persons whose ideas were not
+sound.
+
+Also the post-office department cancelled the second class mailing
+privileges of the "Clarion," and later it barred the paper from the
+mails entirely. A couple of "comrades" with automobiles then took up
+the work of delivering the paper in the nearby towns; so Peter was
+sent to get acquainted with these fellows, and in the night time
+some of Guffey's men entered the garage, and fixed one of the cars
+so that its steering gear went wrong and very nearly broke the
+driver's neck. So yet another conspiracy was foiled!
+
+
+
+
+Section 69
+
+
+Peter was really happy now, because the authorities were thoroughly
+roused, and when he brought them new facts, he had the satisfaction
+of seeing something done about it. Ostensibly the action was taken
+by the Federal agents, or by the District Attorney's office, or by
+the city police and detectives; but Peter knew that it was always
+himself and the rest of Guffey's agents, pulling the wires behind
+the scenes. Guffey had the money, he was working for the men who
+really counted in American City; Guffey was the real boss. And all
+over the country it was the same; the Reds were being put out of
+business by the secret agents of the Chambers of Commerce and the
+Merchants' and Manufacturers' Associations, and the "Improve America
+League," and such like camouflaged organizations.
+
+They had everything their own way, because the country was at war,
+the war excitement was blazing like a prairie fire all over the
+land, and all you had to do was to call a man a pro-German or a
+Bolshevik, and to be sufficiently excited about it, and you could
+get a mob together and go to his home and horsewhip him or tar and
+feather him or lynch him. For years the big business men had been
+hating the agitators, and now at last they had their chance, and in
+every town, in every shop and mill and mine they had some Peter
+Gudge at work, a "Jimmie Higgins" of the "Whites," engaged in spying
+and "snooping" upon the "Jimmie Higgins" of the "Reds." Everywhere
+they had Guffeys and McGivneys to direct these activities, and they
+had "strong arm men," with guns on their hips and deputy sheriffs'
+and other badges inside their coats, giving them unlimited right to
+protect the country from traitors.
+
+There were three or four million men in the training camps, and
+every week great convoys were sent out from the Eastern ports,
+loaded with troops for "over there." Billions of dollars worth of
+munitions and supplies were going, and all the yearnings and
+patriotic fervors of the country were likewise going "over there."
+Peter read more speeches and sermons and editorials, and was proud
+and glad, knowing that he was taking his humble part in the great
+adventure. When he read that the biggest captains of industry and
+finance were selling their services to the government for the sum of
+one dollar a year, how could he complain, who was getting twenty
+dollars every week? When some of the Reds in their meetings or in
+their "literature" declared that these captains of industry and
+finance were the heads of companies which were charging the
+government enormous prices and making anywhere from three to ten
+times the profits they had made before the war--then Peter would
+know that he was listening to an extremely dangerous Bolshevik; he
+would take the name of the man to McGivney, and McGivney would pull
+his secret wires, and the man would suddenly find himself out of a
+job--or maybe being prosecuted by the health department of the city
+for having set out a garbage can without a cover.
+
+After persistent agitation, the radicals had succeeded in persuading
+a judge to let out McCormick and the rest of the conspirators on
+fifty thousand dollars bail apiece. That was most exasperating to
+Peter, because it was obvious that when you put a Red into jail, you
+made him a martyr to the rest of the Reds you made him conspicuous
+to the whole community, and then if you let him out again, his
+speaking and agitating were ten times as effective as before. Either
+you ought to keep an agitator in jail for good, or else you ought
+not put him in at all. But the judges didn't see that--their heads
+were full of a lot of legal bunk, and they let David Andrews and the
+other Red lawyers hood-wink them. Herbert Ashton and his Socialist
+crowd also got out on bail, and the "Clarion" was still published
+and openly sold on the news-stands. While it didn't dare oppose the
+war any more, it printed every impolite thing it could possibly
+collect about the "gigantic trading corporation" known as the
+British Government, and also about the "French bankers" and the
+"Italian imperialists." It clamored for democracy for Ireland and
+Egypt and India, and shamelessly defended the Bolsheviki, those
+pro-German conspirators and nationalizers of women.
+
+So Peter proceeded to collect more evidence against the "Clarion"
+staff, and against the I. W. Ws. Presently he read the good news
+that the government had arrested a couple of hundred of the I. W. W.
+leaders all over the country, and also the national leaders of the
+Socialists, and was going to try them all for conspiracy. Then came
+the trial of McCormick and Henderson and Gus and the rest; and Peter
+picked up his "Times" one morning, and read on the front page some
+news that caused him to gasp. Joe Angell, one of the leaders in the
+dynamite conspiracy, had turned state's evidence! He had revealed to
+the District Attorney, not only the part which he himself had played
+in the plan to dynamite Nelse Ackerman's home, but he had told
+everything that the others had done--just how the dynamite had been
+got and prepared, and the names of all the leading citizens of the
+community who were to share Nelse Ackerman's fate! Peter read, on
+and on, breathless with wonder, and when he got thru with the story
+he rolled back on his bed and laughed out loud. By heck, that was
+the limit! Peter had framed a frame-up on Guffey's man, and of
+course Guffey couldn't send this man to prison; so he had had him
+turn state's evidence, and was letting him go free, as his reward
+for telling on the others!
+
+The court calendars were now crowded with "espionage" cases;
+pacifist clergymen who had tried to preach sermons, and
+labor leaders who had tried to call strikes; members of the
+Anti-conscription League and their pupils, the draft-dodgers and
+slackers; Anarchists and Communists and Quakers, I. W. Ws., and
+Socialists and "Russellites." There were several trials going on all
+the time, and in almost every case Peter had a finger, Peter was
+called on to get this bit of evidence, or to investigate that juror,
+or to prepare some little job against a witness for the defense.
+Peter was wrapped up in the fate of each case, and each conviction
+was a personal triumph. As there was always a conviction, Peter
+began to swell up again with patriotic fervor, and the memory of
+Nell Doolin and Ted Crothers slipped far into the background. When
+"Mac" and his fellow dynamiters were sentenced to twenty years
+apiece, Peter felt that he had atoned for all his sins, and he
+ventured timidly to point out to McGivney that the cost of living
+was going up all the time, and that he had kept his promise not to
+wink at a woman for six months. McGivney said all right, they would
+raise him to thirty dollars a week.
+
+
+
+
+Section 70
+
+
+Of course Peter's statement to McGivney had not been literally true.
+He had winked at a number of women, but the trouble was none had
+returned his wink. First he had made friendly advances toward Miriam
+Yankovich, who was buxom and not bad looking; but Miriam's thoughts
+were evidently all with McCormick in jail; and then, after her
+experience with Bob Ogden, Miriam had to go to a hospital, and of
+course Peter didn't want to fool with an invalid. He made himself
+agreeable to others of the Red girls, and they seemed to like him;
+they treated him as a good comrade, but somehow they did not seem to
+act up to McGivney's theories of "free love." So Peter made up his
+mind that he would find him a girl who was not a Red. It would give
+him a little relief now and then, a little fun. The Reds seldom had
+any fun--their idea of an adventure was to get off in a room by
+themselves and sing the International or the Red Flag in whispers,
+so the police couldn't hear them.
+
+It was Saturday afternoon, and Peter went to a clothing store kept
+by a Socialist, and bought himself a new hat and a new suit of
+clothes on credit. Then he went out on the street, and saw a neat
+little girl going into a picture-show, and followed her, and they
+struck up an acquaintance and had supper together. She was what
+Peter called a "swell dresser," and it transpired that she worked in
+a manicure parlor. Her idea of fun corresponded to Peter's, and
+Peter spent all the money he had that Saturday evening, and made up
+his mind that if he could get something new on the Reds in the
+course of the week, he would strike McGivney for forty dollars.
+
+Next morning was Easter Sunday, and Peter met his manicurist by
+appointment, and they went for a stroll on Park Avenue, which was
+the aristocratic street of American City and the scene of the
+"Easter parade." It was war time, and many of the houses had flags
+out, and many of the men were in uniform, and all of the sermons
+dealt with martial themes. Christ, it appeared, was risen
+again to make the world safe for democracy, and to establish
+self-determination for all people; and Peter and Miss Frisbie both
+had on their best clothes, and watched the crowds in the "Easter
+parade," and Miss Frisbie studied the costumes and make-up of the
+ladies, and picked up scraps of their conversation and whispered
+them to Peter, and made Peter feel that he was back on Mount Olympus
+again.
+
+They turned into one of the swell Park Avenue churches; the Church
+of the Divine Compassion it was called, and it was very "high," with
+candles and incense--althogh you could hardly smell the incense on
+this occasion for the scent of the Easter lilies and the ladies.
+Peter and his friend were escorted to one of the leather covered
+pews, and they heard the Rev. de Willoughby Stotterbridge, a famous
+pulpit orator, deliver one of those patriotic sermons which were
+quoted in the "Times" almost every Monday morning. The Rev. de
+Willoughby Stotterbridge quoted some Old Testament text about
+exterminating the enemies of the Lord, and he sang the triumph of
+American arms, and the overwhelming superiority of American
+munitions. He denounced the Bolsheviks and all other traitors, and
+called for their instant suppression; he didn't say that he had
+actually been among the crowd which had horse-whipped the I. W. Ws.
+and smashed the printing presses and typewriters of the Socialists,
+but he made it unmistakably clear that that was what he wanted, and
+Peter's bosom swelled with happy pride. It was something to a man to
+know that he was serving his country and keeping the old flag
+waving; but it was still more to know that he was enlisted in the
+service of the Almighty, that Heaven and all its hosts were on his
+side, and that everything he had done had the sanction of the
+Almighty's divinely ordained minister, speaking in the Almighty's
+holy temple, in the midst of stained-glass windows and brightly
+burning candles and the ravishing odor of incense, and of Easter
+lilies and of mignonette and lavender in the handkerchiefs of
+delicately gowned and exquisite ladies from Mount Olympus. This, to
+be sure, was mixing mythologies, but Peter's education had been
+neglected in his youth, and Peter could not be blamed for taking the
+great ones of the earth as they were, and believing what they taught
+him.
+
+The white robed choir marched out, and the music of "Onward
+Christian Soldiers" faded away, and Peter and his lady went out from
+the Church of the Divine Compassion, and strolled on the avenue
+again, and when they had sufficiently filled their nostrils with the
+sweet odors of snobbery, they turned into the park, where there were
+places of seclusion for young couples interested in each other. But
+alas, the fates which dogged Peter in his love-making had prepared
+an especially cruel prank that morning. At the entrance to the park,
+whom should Peter meet but Comrade Schnitzelmann, a fat little
+butcher who belonged to the "Bolshevik local" of American City.
+Peter tried to look the other way and hurry by, but Comrade
+Schnitzelmann would not have it so. He came rushing up with one
+pudgy hand stretched out, and a beaming smile on his rosy Teutonic
+countenance. "Ach, Comrade Gudge!" cried he. "Wie geht's mit you dis
+morning?"
+
+"Very well, thank you," said Peter, coldly, and tried to hurry on.
+
+But Comrade Schnitzelmann held onto his hand. "So! You been seeing
+dot Easter barade!" said he. "Vot you tink, hey? If we could get all
+de wage slaves to come und see dot barade, we make dem all
+Bolsheviks pretty quick! Hey, Comrade Gudge?"
+
+"Yes, I guess so," said Peter, still more coldly.
+
+"We show dem vot de money goes for--hey, Comrade Gudge!" And Comrade
+Schnitzelmann chuckled, and Peter said, quickly, "Well, good-bye,"
+and without introducing his lady-love took her by the arm and
+hurried away.
+
+But alas, the damage had been done! They walked for a minute or two
+amid ominous silence. Then suddenly the manicurist stood still and
+confronted Peter. "Mr. Gudge," she demanded, "what does that mean?"
+
+And Peter of course could not answer. He did not dare to meet her
+flashing eyes, but stood digging the toe of his shoe into the path.
+"I want to know what it means," persisted the girl. "Are you one of
+those Reds?"
+
+And what could poor Peter say? How could he explain his acquaintance
+with that Teutonic face and that Teutonic accent?
+
+The girl stamped her foot with impatient anger. "So you're one of
+those Reds! You're one of those pro-German traitors! You're an
+imposter, a spy!"
+
+Peter was helpless with embarrassment and dismay. "Miss Frisbie," he
+began, "I can't explain--"
+
+"_Why_ can't you explain? Why can't any honest man explain?"
+
+"But--but--I'm not what you think--it isn't true! I--I--" It was on
+the tip of Peter's tongue to say, "I'm a patriot! I'm a 100%
+American, protecting my country against these traitors!" But
+professional honor sealed his tongue, and the little manicurist
+stamped her foot again, and her eyes flashed with indignation.
+
+"You dare to seek my acquaintance! You dare to take me to church!
+Why--if there was a policeman in sight, I'd report you, I'd send you
+to jail!" And actually she looked around for a policeman! But it is
+well known that there never is a policeman in sight when you look
+for one; so Miss Frisbie stamped her foot again and snorted in
+Peter's face. "Goodbye, _Comrade_ Gudge!" The emphasis she put upon
+that word "comrade" would have frozen the fieriest Red soul; and she
+turned with a swish of her skirts and strode off, and Peter stood
+looking mournfully at her little French heels going crunch, crunch,
+crunch on the gravel path. When the heels were clean gone out of
+sight, Peter sought out the nearest bench and sat down and buried
+his face in his hands, a picture of woe. Was there ever in the world
+a man who had such persistent ill luck with women?
+
+
+
+
+Section 71
+
+
+These were days of world-agony, when people bought the newspapers
+several times every day, and when crowds gathered in front of
+bulletin boards, looking at the big maps with little flags, and
+speculating, were the Germans going to get to Paris, were they going
+to get to the Channel and put France out of the war? And then
+suddenly the Americans struck their first blow, and hurled the
+Germans back at Chateau-Thierry, and all America rose up with one
+shout of triumph!
+
+You would think that was a poor time for pacifist agitation; but the
+members of the Anti-conscription League had so little discretion
+that they chose this precise moment to publish a pamphlet,
+describing the torturing of conscientious objectors in military
+prisons and training camps! Peter had been active in this
+organization from the beginning, and he had helped to write into the
+pamphlet a certain crucial phrase which McGivney had suggested. So
+now here were the pamphlets seized by the Federal government, and
+all the members of the Anti-conscription League under arrest,
+including Sadie Todd and little Ada Ruth and Donald Gordon! Peter
+was sorry about Sadie Todd, in spite of the fact that she had called
+him names. He couldn't be very sorry about Ada Ruth, because she was
+obviously a fanatic, bent on getting herself into trouble. As for
+Donald Gordon, if he hadn't learned his lesson from that whipping,
+he surely had nobody to blame but himself.
+
+Peter was a member of this Anti-conscription League, so he pretended
+to be in hiding, and carried on a little comedy with Ada Ruth's
+cousin, an Englishwoman, who hid him out in her place in the
+country. Peter had an uncomfortable quarter of an hour when Donald
+Gordon was released on bail, because the Quaker boy insisted that
+the crucial phrase which had got them all into trouble had been
+stricken out of the manuscript before he handed it to Peter Gudge to
+take to the printer. But Peter insisted that Donald was mistaken,
+and apparently he succeeded in satisfying the others, and after they
+were all out on bail, he made bold to come out of his hiding place
+and to attend one or two protest meetings in private homes.
+
+Then began a new adventure, in some ways the most startling of all.
+It had to do with another girl, and the beginning was in the home of
+Ada Ruth, where a few of the most uncompromising of the pacifists
+gathered to discuss the question of raising money to pay for their
+legal defense. To this meeting came Miriam Yankovich, pale from an
+operation for cancer of the breast, but with a heart and mind as Red
+as ever. Miriam had brought along a friend to help her, because she
+wasn't strong enough to walk; and it was this friend who started
+Peter on his new adventure.
+
+Rosie Stern was her name, and she was a solid little Jewish working
+girl, with bold black eyes, and a mass of shining black hair, and
+flaming cheeks and a flashing smile. She was dressed as if she knew
+about her beauty, and really appreciated it; so Peter wasn't
+surprised when Miriam, introducing her, remarked that Rosie wasn't a
+Red and didn't like the Reds, but had just come to help her, and to
+see what a pacifist meeting was like. Perhaps Peter might help to
+make a Red out of her! And Peter was very glad indeed, for he was
+never more bored with the whining of pacifists than now when our
+boys were hurling the Germans back from the Marne and writing their
+names upon history's most imperishable pages.
+
+Rosie was something new and unforeseen, and Peter went right after
+her, and presently he realized with delight that she was interested
+in him. Peter knew, of course, that he was superior to all this
+crowd, but he wasn't used to having the fact recognized, and as
+usual when a woman smiled upon him, the pressure of his self-esteem
+rose beyond the safety point. Rosie was one of those people who take
+the world as it is and get some fun out of it, so while the pacifist
+meeting went on, Peter sat over in the corner and told her in
+whispers his funny adventures with Pericles Priam and in the Temple
+of Jimjambo. Rosie could hardly repress her laughter, and her black
+eyes flashed, and before the evening was over their hands had
+touched several times. Then Peter offered to escort her and Miriam,
+and needless to say they took Miriam home first. The tenement
+streets were deserted at this late hour, so they found a chance for
+swift embraces, and Peter went home with his feet hardly touching
+the ground.
+
+Rosie worked in a paper-box factory, and next evening Peter took her
+out to dinner, and their eager flirtation went on. But Rosie showed
+a tendency to retreat, and when Peter pressed her, she told him the
+reason. She had no use for Reds; she was sick of the jargon of the
+Reds, she would never love a Red. Look at Miriam Yankovich--what a
+wreck she had made of her life! She had been a handsome girl, she
+might have got a rich husband, but now she had had to be cut to
+pieces! And look at Sadie Todd, slaving herself to death, and Ada
+Ruth with her poems that made you tired. Rosie jeered at them all,
+and riddled them with the arrows of her wit, and of course Peter in
+his heart agreed with everything she said; yet Peter had to pretend
+to disagree, and that made Rosie cross and spoiled their fun, and
+they almost quarreled.
+
+Under these circumstances, naturally it was hard for Peter not to
+give some hint of his true feeling. After he had spent all of his
+money on Rosie and a lot of his time and hadn't got anywhere, he
+decided to make some concession to her--he told her he would give up
+trying to make a Red out of her. Whereupon Rosie made a face at him.
+"Very kind indeed of you, Mr. Gudge! But how about my making a
+`White' out of you?" And she went on to inform him that she wanted
+a fellow that could make money and take care of a girl. Peter
+answered that he was making money all right. Well, how was he making
+money, asked Rosie. Peter wouldn't tell, but he was making it, and
+he would prove it by taking her to the theater every night.
+
+So the little duel went on, evening after evening. Peter got more
+and more crazy about this black-eyed beauty, and she got more and
+more coquettish, and more and more impatient with his radical
+leanings. Rosie's father had brought her as a baby from Kisheneff,
+but she was 100% American all the same, so she told him; those boys
+in khaki who were over there walloping the Huns were the boys for
+her, and she was waiting for one of them to come back. What was the
+matter with Peter that he wasn't doing his part? Was he a
+draft-dodger? Rosie had never had anything to do with slackers, and
+wasn't keen for the company of a man who couldn't give an account of
+himself. Only that day she had been reading in the paper about the
+atrocities committed by the Huns. How could any man with red blood
+in his veins sympathize with these pacifists and traitors? And if
+Peter didn't sympathize with them, why did he travel round with them
+and give them his moral support? When Peter made a feeble effort at
+repeating some of the pacifists' arguments, Rosie just said, "Oh,
+fudge! You've got too much sense to talk that kind of stuff to me."
+And Peter knew, of course, that he _had_ too much sense, and it was
+hard to keep from letting Rosie see it. He had just lost one girl
+because of his Red entanglements. Was it up to him to lose another?
+
+For a couple of weeks they sparred and fought. Rosie would let Peter
+kiss her, and Peter's head would be quite turned with desire. He
+decided that she was the most wonderful girl he had ever known; even
+Nell Doolin had nothing on her. But then once more she would pin
+Peter down on this business of his Redness, and would spurn him, and
+refuse to see him any more. At last Peter admitted to her that he
+had lost his sympathy with the Reds, she had converted him, and he
+despised them. So Rosie replied that she was delighted; they would
+go at once to see Miriam Yankovich, and Peter would tell her, and
+try to convert her also. Peter was then in a bad dilemma; he had to
+insist that Rosie should keep his conversion a secret. But Rosie
+became indignant, she set her lips and declared that a conversion
+that had to be kept secret was no conversion at all, it was simply a
+low sham, and Peter Gudge was a coward, and she was sick of him! So
+poor Peter went away, heartbroken and bewildered.
+
+
+
+
+Section 72
+
+
+There was only one way out of this plight for Peter, and that was
+for him to tell Rosie the truth. And why should he not do it? He was
+wild about her, and he knew that she was wild about him, and only
+one thing--his great secret--stood in the way of their perfect
+bliss. If he told her that great secret, he would be a hero of
+heroes in her eyes; he would be more wonderful even than the men who
+were driving back the Germans from the Marne and writing their names
+upon history's most imperishable pages! So why should he not tell?
+
+He was in her room one evening, and his arms were about her, and she
+had almost but not quite yielded. "Please, please, Peter," she
+pleaded, "stop being one of those horrid Reds!" And Peter could
+stand it no longer. He told her that he really wasn't a Red, but a
+secret agent employed by the very biggest business men of American
+City to keep track of the Reds and bring their activities to naught.
+And when he told this, Rosie stared at him in consternation. She
+refused to believe him; when he insisted, she laughed at him, and
+finally became angry. It was a silly yarn, and did he imagine he
+could string her along like that?
+
+So Peter, irritated, set out to convince her. He told her about
+Guffey and the American City Land & Investment Company; he told her
+about McGivney, and how he met McGivney regularly at Room 427 of the
+American House. He told her about his thirty dollars a week, and how
+it was soon to be increased to forty, and he would spend it all on
+her. And perhaps she might pretend to be converted by him, and
+become a Red also, and if she could satisfy McGivney that she was
+straight, he would pay her too, and it would be a lot better than
+working ten and a half hours a day in Isaac & Goldstein's paper box
+factory.
+
+At last Peter succeeded in convincing the girl. She was subdued and
+frightened; she hadn't been prepared for anything like that, she
+said, and would have to have a little time to think it over. Peter
+then became worried in turn. He hoped she wouldn't mind, he said,
+and set to work to explain to her how important his work was, how it
+had the sanction of all the very best people in the city--not merely
+the great bankers and business men, but mayors and public officials
+and newspaper editors and college presidents, and great Park Avenue
+clergymen like the Rev. de Willoughby Stotterbridge of the Church of
+the Divine Compassion. And Rosie said that was all right, of course,
+but she was a little scared and would have to think it over. She
+brought the evening to an abrupt end, and Peter went home much
+disconcerted.
+
+Perhaps an hour later there came a sharp tap on the door of his
+lodging-house room, and he went to the door, and found himself
+confronted by David Andrews, the lawyer, Donald Gordon, and John
+Durand, the labor giant, president of the Seamen's Union. They never
+even said, "Howdy do," but stalked into the room, and Durand shut
+the door behind him, and stood with his back to it, folded his arms
+and glared at Peter like the stone image of an Aztec chieftain. So
+before they said a word Peter knew what had happened. He knew that
+the jig was up for good this time; his career as savior of the
+nation was at an end. And again it was all on account of a
+woman--all because he hadn't taken Guffey's advice about winking!
+
+But all other thoughts were driven from Peter's mind by one emotion,
+which was terror. His teeth began giving their imitation of an angry
+woodchuck, and his knees refused to hold him; he sat down on the
+edge of the bed, staring from one to another of these three stone
+Aztec faces. "Well, Gudge," said Andrews, at last, "so you're the
+spy we've been looking for all this time!"
+
+Peter remembered Nell's injunction, "Stick it out, Peter! Stick it
+out!"
+
+"Wh-wh-what do you mean, Mr. Andrews?"
+
+"Forget it, Gudge," said Andrews. "We've just been talking with
+Rosie, and Rosie was our spy."
+
+"She's been lying to you!" Peter cried.
+
+But Andrews said: "Oh rubbish! We're not that easy! Miriam Yankovich
+was listening behind the door, and heard your talk."
+
+So then Peter knew that the case was hopeless, and there was nothing
+left but to ascertain his fate. Had they come just to scold him and
+appeal to his conscience? Or did they plan to carry him away and
+strangle him and torture him to death? The latter was the terror
+that had been haunting Peter from the beginning of his career, and
+when gradually be made out that the three Aztecs did not intend
+violence, and that all they hoped for was to get him to admit how
+much he had told to his employers--then there was laughter inside
+Peter, and he broke down and wept tears of scalding shame, and said
+that it had all been because McCormick had told that cruel lie about
+him and little Jennie Todd. He had resisted the temptation for a
+year, but then he had been out of a job, and the Goober Defense
+Committee had refused him any work; he had actually been starving,
+and so at last he had accepted McGivney's offer to let him know
+about the seditious activities of the extreme Reds. But he had never
+reported anybody who hadn't really broken the law, and he had never
+told McGivney anything but the truth.
+
+Then Andrews proceeded to examine him. Peter denied that he had ever
+reported anything about the Goober case. He denied most strenuously
+that he had ever had anything to do with the McCormick "frame-up."
+When they tried to pin him down on this case and that, he suddenly
+summoned his dignity and declared that Andrews had no right to
+cross-question him, he was a 100%, red-blooded American patriot, and
+had been saving his country and his God from German agents and
+Bolshevik traitors.
+
+Donald Gordon almost went wild at that. "What you've been doing was
+to slip stuff into our pamphlet about conscientious objectors, so as
+to get us all indicted!"
+
+"That's a lie!" cried Peter. "I never done nothing of the kind!"
+
+"You know perfectly well you rubbed out those pencil marks that I
+drew through that sentence in the pamphlet."
+
+"I never done it!" cried Peter, again and again.
+
+And suddenly big John Durand clenched his hands, and his face became
+terrible with his pent-up rage. "You white-livered little sneak!" he
+hissed. "What we ought to do with you is to pull the lying tongue
+out of you!" He took a step forward, as if he really meant to do it.
+
+But David Andrews interfered. He was a lawyer, and knew the
+difference between what he could do and what Guffey's men could do.
+"No, no, John," he said, "nothing like that. I guess we've got all
+we can get out of this fellow. We'll leave him to his own conscience
+and his Jingo God. Come on, Donald." And he took the white-faced
+Quaker boy with one hand, and the big labor giant with the other,
+and walked them out of the room, and Peter heard them tramping down
+the stairs of his lodging house, and he lay on his bed and buried
+his face in the pillows, and felt utterly wretched, because once
+more he had been made a fool of, and as usual it was a woman that
+had done it.
+
+
+
+
+Section 73
+
+
+Peter could see it all very clearly when he came to figure over the
+thing; he could see what a whooping jackass he had been. He might
+have known that it was up to him to be careful, at this time of all
+times, when he was suspected of having rubbed out Donald Gordon's
+pencil marks. They had picked out a girl whom Peter had never seen
+before, and she had come and posed as Miriam's friend, and had
+proceeded to take Peter by the nose and lead him to the edge of the
+precipice and shove him over. And now she would be laughing at him,
+telling all her friends about her triumph, and about Peter's thirty
+dollars a week that he would never see again.
+
+Peter spent a good part of the night getting up the story that he
+was to tell McGivney next morning. He wouldn't mention Rosie Stern,
+of course; he would say that the Reds had trailed him to Room 427,
+and it must be they had a spy in Guffey's office. Peter repeated
+this story quite solemnly, and again realized too late that he had
+made a fool of himself. It wasn't twenty-four hours before every Red
+in American City knew the true, inside history of the unveiling of
+Peter Gudge as a spy of the Traction Trust. The story occupied a
+couple of pages in that week's issue of the "Clarion," and included
+Peter's picture, and an account of the part that Peter had played in
+various frame-ups. It was nearly all true, and the fact that it was
+guess-work on Donald Gordon's part did not make it any the better
+for Peter. Of course McGivney and Guffey and all his men read the
+story, and knew Peter for the whooping jackass that Peter knew
+himself.
+
+"You go and get yourself a job with a pick and shovel," said
+McGivney, and Peter sorrowfully took his departure. He had only a
+few dollars in his pocket, and these did not last very long, and he
+had got down to his last nickel, and was confronting the wolf of
+starvation again, when McGivney came to his lodging house room with
+a new proposition. There was one job left, and Peter might take it
+if he thought he could stand the gaff.
+
+It was the job of state's witness. Peter had been all thru the Red
+movement, he knew all these pacifists and Socialists and
+Syndicalists and I. W. Ws. who were now in jail. In some cases the
+evidence of the government was far from satisfactory; so Peter might
+have his salary back again, if he were willing to take the witness
+stand and tell what he was told to tell, and if he could manage to
+sit in a courtroom without falling in love with some of the lady
+jurors, or some of the lady spies of the defense. These deadly
+shafts of sarcasm Peter did not even feel, because he was so
+frightened by the proposition which McGivney put up to him. To come
+out into the open and face the blinding glare of the Red hate! To
+place himself, the ant, between the smashing fists of the battling
+giants!
+
+Yes, it might seem dangerous, said McGivney, for a cowardly little
+whelp like himself; but then a good many men had had the nerve to do
+it, and none of them had died yet. McGivney himself did not pretend
+to care very much whether Peter did it or not; he put the matter up
+to him on Guffey's orders. The job was worth forty dollars a week,
+and he might take it or leave it.
+
+And there sat Peter, with only a nickel and a couple of pennies in
+his pocket, and the rent for his room two weeks over-due, and his
+landlady lying in wait in the hallway like an Indian with a
+tomahawk. Peter objected, what about all those bad things in his
+early record, Pericles Priam and the Temple of Jimjambo, which had
+ruined him as a witness in the Goober case. McGivney answered dryly
+that he couldn't let himself out with that excuse; he was invited to
+pose as a reformed "wobbly," and the more crimes and rascalities he
+had in his record, the more convinced the jury would be that he had
+been a real "wobbly."
+
+Peter asked, just when would he be expected to appear? And McGivney
+answered, the very next week. They were trying seventeen of the
+"wobblies" on a conspiracy charge, and Peter would be expected to
+take the stand and tell how he had heard them advocate violence, and
+heard them boast of having set fire to barns and wheat fields, and
+how they had put phosphorus bombs into haystacks, and copper nails
+into fruit trees, and spikes into sawmill logs, and emery powder
+into engine bearings. Peter needn't worry about what he would have
+to say, McGivney would tell him everything, and would see him
+thoroughly posted, and he would find himself a hero in the
+newspapers, which would make clear that he had done everything from
+the very highest possible motives of 100% Americanism, and that no
+soldier in the war had been performing a more dangerous service.
+
+To Peter it seemed they might say that without troubling their
+conscience very much. But McGivney went on to declare that he
+needn't be afraid; it was no part of Guffey's program to give the
+Reds the satisfaction of putting his star witness out of business.
+Peter would be kept in a safe place, and would always have a
+body-guard. While he was in the city, giving his testimony, they
+would put him up at the Hotel de Soto.
+
+And that of course settled it. Here was poor Peter, with only a
+nickel and two coppers in his pocket, and before him stood a chariot
+of fire with magic steeds, and all he had to do was to step in, and
+be whirled away to Mount Olympus. Peter stepped in!
+
+
+
+
+Section 74
+
+
+McGivney took him to Guffey's office, and Guffey wasted no time upon
+preliminaries, but turned to his desk, and took out a long
+typewritten document, a complete account of what the prosecution
+meant to prove against the seventeen I. W. Ws. First, Peter told
+what he himself had seen and heard--not very much, but a beginning,
+a hook to hang his story upon. The I. W. W. hall was the meeting
+place for the casual and homeless labor of the country, the
+"bindle-stiffs" who took the hardest of the world's hard knocks, and
+sometimes returned them. There was no kind of injustice these
+fellows hadn't experienced, and now and then they had given blow for
+blow. Also there were loose talkers among them, who worked off their
+feelings by threats of vengeance upon their enemies. Now and then a
+real criminal came along, and now and then a paid inciter, a Peter
+Gudge or a Joe Angell. Peter told the worst that he had heard, and
+all he knew about the arrested men, and Guffey wrote it all down,
+and then proceeded to build upon it. This fellow Alf Guinness had
+had a row with a farmer in Wheatland County; there had been a barn
+burned nearby, and Guffey would furnish an automobile and a couple
+of detectives to travel with Peter, and they would visit the scene
+of that fire and the nearby village, and familiarize themselves with
+the locality, and Peter would testify how he had been with Guinness
+when he and a half dozen of the defendants had set fire to that
+barn.
+
+Peter hadn't intended anything quite so serious as that, but Guffey
+was so business-like, and took it all so much as a matter of course,
+that Peter was afraid to show the white feather. After all, this was
+war-time; hundreds of men were giving up their lives every day in
+the Argonne, and why shouldn't Peter take a little risk in order to
+put out of business his country's most dangerous enemies?
+
+So Peter and his two detectives blew themselves to a joy ride in the
+country. And then Peter was brought back and made comfortable in a
+room on the twelfth floor of the Hotel de Soto, where he diligently
+studied the typewritten documents which McGivney brought him, and
+thoroughly learned the story he was to tell. There was always one of
+Guffey's men walking up and down in the hallway outside with a gun
+on his hip, and they brought Peter three meals a day, not forgetting
+a bottle of beer and a package of cigarettes. Twice a day Peter read
+in the newspapers about the heroic deeds of our boys over there, and
+also about the latest bomb plots which had been discovered all over
+the country, and about various trials under the espionage act.
+
+Also, Peter had the thrill of reading about himself in a real
+newspaper. Hitherto he had been featured in labor papers, and
+Socialist papers like the "Clarion," which did not count; but now
+the American City "Times" came out with a long story of how the
+district attorney's office had "planted" a secret agent with the I.
+W. W., and how this man, whose name was Peter Gudge, had been
+working as one of them for the past two years, and was going to
+reveal the whole story of I. W. W. infamy on the witness stand.
+
+Two days before the trial Peter was escorted by McGivney and another
+detective to the district attorney's office, and spent the best part
+of the day in conference with Mr. Burchard and his deputy, Mr.
+Stannard, who were to try the case. McGivney had told Peter that the
+district attorney was not in the secret, he really believed that
+Peter's story was all true; but Peter suspected that this was
+camouflage, to save Mr. Burchard's face, and to protect him in case
+Peter ever tried to "throw him down." Peter noticed that whenever he
+left any gap in his story, the district attorney and the deputy told
+him to fill it, and he managed to guess what to fill it with.
+
+Henry Clay Burchard came from the far South, and followed a style of
+oratory long since gone out of date. He wore his heavy black hair a
+little long, and when he mounted the platform he would pull out the
+tremulo stop, stretching out his hands and saying in tones of
+quivering emotion: "The ladies, God bless them!" Also he would say:
+"I am a friend of the common man. My heart beats with sympathy for
+those who constitute the real backbone of America, the toilers of
+the shop and farm." And then all the banqueters of the Chamber of
+Commerce and the Merchants' and Manufacturers' Association would
+applaud, and would send their checks to the campaign fund of this
+friend of the common man. Mr. Burchard's deputy, Mr. Stannard, was a
+legal fox who told his chief what to do and how to do it; a dried-up
+little man who looked like a bookworm, and sat boring you thru with
+his keen eyes, watching for your weak points and preparing to pierce
+you thru with one of his legal rapiers. He would be quite friendly
+about it--he would joke with you in the noon hour, assuming that you
+would of course understand it was all in the line of business, and
+no harm meant.
+
+
+
+
+Section 75
+
+
+The two men heard Peter's story and changed it a little, and then
+heard him over again and pronounced him all right, and Peter went
+back to his hotel room and waited in trepidation for his hour in the
+limelight. When they took him to court his knees were shaking, but
+also he had a thrill of real importance, for they had provided him
+with a body-guard of four big huskies; also he saw two "bulls" whom
+he recognized in the hallway outside the court-room, and many others
+scattered thru the audience. The place was packed with Red
+sympathizers, but they had all been searched before they were
+allowed to enter, and were being watched every moment during the
+trial.
+
+When Peter stepped into the witness box he felt as Tom Duggan and
+Donald Gordon must have felt that night when the white glare from
+thirty or forty automobiles was beating upon them. Peter felt the
+concentrated Red hate of two or three hundred spectators, and now
+and then their pent-up fury would break restraint; there would be a
+murmur of protest, or perhaps a wave of sneering laughter, and the
+bailiff would bang on the table with his wooden mallet, and the
+judge would half rise from his seat, and declare that if that
+happened again he would order the court-room cleared.
+
+Not far in front of Peter at a long table sat the seventeen
+defendants, looking like trapped rats, and every one of their
+thirty-four rat eyes were fixed upon Peter's face, and never moved
+from it. Peter only glanced that way once; they bared their rats'
+teeth at him, and he quickly looked in another direction. But there
+also he saw a face that brought him no comfort; there sat Mrs. Godd,
+in her immaculate white chiffons, her wide-open blue eyes fixed upon
+his face, her expression full of grief and reproach. "Oh, Mr.
+Gudge!" she seemed to be saying. "How can you? Mr. Gudge, is this
+Peace. . . justice. . . Truth. . . Law?" And Peter realized with a
+pang that he had cut himself off forever from Mount Olympus, and
+from the porch chair with the soft silken pillows! He turned away
+toward the box where sat the twelve jurymen and women. One old lady
+gave him a benevolent smile, and a young farmer gave him a sly wink,
+so Peter knew that he had friends in that quarter--and after all,
+they were the ones who really counted in this trial. Mrs. Godd was
+as helpless as any "wobbly," in the presence of this august court.
+
+Peter told his story, and then came his cross-questioning, and who
+should rise and start the job but David Andrews, suave and humorous
+and deadly. Peter had always been afraid of Andrews, and now he
+winced. Nobody had told him he was to face an ordeal like this!
+Nobody had told him that Andrews would be allowed to question him
+about every detail of these crimes which he said he had witnessed,
+and about all the conversations that had taken place, and who else
+was present, and what else had been said, and how he had come to be
+there, and what he had done afterwards, and what he had had to eat
+for breakfast that morning. Only two things saved Peter, first the
+constant rapid-fire of objections which Stannard kept making, to
+give Peter time to think; and second, the cyclone-cellar which
+Stannard had provided for him in advance. "You can always fail to
+remember," the deputy had said; "nobody can punish you for
+forgetting something." So Peter would repeat the minute details of a
+conversation in which Alf Guinness had told of burning down the
+barn, but he didn't remember who else had heard the conversation,
+and he didn't remember what else had been said, nor what was the
+date of the conversation.
+
+Then came the blessed hour of noon, with a chance for Peter to get
+fixed up again before the court resumed at two. He was questioned
+again by Stannard, who patched up all the gaps in his testimony, and
+then again he failed to remember things, and so avoided the traps
+which Andrews set for his feet. He was told that he had "done fine,"
+and was escorted back to the Hotel de Soto in triumph, and there for
+a week he stayed while the defense made a feeble effort to answer
+his testimony. Peter read in the papers the long speeches in which
+the district attorney and the deputy acclaimed him as a patriot,
+protecting his country from its "enemies within;" also he read a
+brief reference to the "tirade" of David Andrews, who had called him
+a "rat" and a "slinking Judas." Peter didn't mind that, of
+course--it was all part of the game, and the calling of names is a
+pretty sure sign of impotence.
+
+Less easy to accept placidly, however, was something which came to
+Peter that same day--a letter from Mrs. Godd! It wasn't written to
+him, but he saw Hammett and another of the "bulls" chuckling
+together, and he asked what was the joke, and they told him that
+Mrs. Godd had somehow found out about Guffey, and had written him a
+letter full of insults, and Guffey was furious. Peter asked what was
+in it, and they told him, and later on when he insisted, they
+brought it and showed it to him, and Peter was furious too. On very
+expensive stationery with a stately crest at the top, the mother of
+Mount Olympus had written in a large, bland, girlish hand her
+opinion of "under cover" men and those who hired them:
+
+"You sit like a big spider and weave a net to catch men and destroy
+them. You destroy alike your victims and your tools. The poor boy,
+Peter Gudge, whom you sent to my home--my heart bleeds when I think
+of him, and what you have put him up to! A wretched, feeble-minded
+victim of greed, who ought to be sent to a hospital for deformed
+souls, you have taken him and taught him a piece of villainy to
+recite, so that he may send a group of sincere idealists to prison."
+
+That was enough! Peter put down the letter--he would not dignify
+such stuff by reading it. He realized that he would have to put his
+mind on the problem of Mrs. Godd once more. One woman like that, in
+her position of power, was more dangerous than all the seventeen
+"wobblies" who had been haled before the court. Peter inquired, and
+learned that Guffey had already been to see Nelse Ackerman about it,
+and Mr. Ackerman had been to see Mr. Godd, and Mr. Godd had been to
+see Mrs. Godd. Also the "Times" had an editorial referring to the
+"nest of Bolshevism" upon Mount Olympus, and all Mrs. Godd's friends
+were staying away from her luncheon-parties--so she was being made
+to suffer for her insolence to Peter Gudge!
+
+"A hospital for deformed souls," indeed! Peter was so upset that his
+joy in life was not restored even by the news that the jury had
+found the defendants guilty on the first ballot. He told McGivney
+that the strain of this trial had been too much for his nerves, and
+they must take care of him; so an automobile was provided, and Peter
+was taken to a secret hiding place in the country to recuperate.
+
+Hammett went with him, and Hammett was a first-class gunman, and
+Peter stayed close by him; in the evening he stayed up in the second
+story of the farm-house, lest perchance one of the "wobblies" should
+take too literally the testimony Peter had given concerning their
+habit of shooting at their enemies out of the darkness. Peter knew
+how they all must hate him; he read in the paper how the judge
+summoned the guilty men before him and sentenced them, incidentally
+forcing them to listen to a scathing address, which was published in
+full in the "Times." The law provided a penalty of from one to
+fourteen years, and the judge sentenced sixteen of them to fourteen
+years, and one to ten years, thus tempering justice with mercy.
+
+Then one day McGivney sent an automobile, and Peter was brought to
+Guffey's office, and a new plan was unfolded to him. They had
+arrested another bunch of "wobblies" in the neighboring city of
+Eldorado, and Peter was wanted there to repeat his testimony. It
+happened that he knew one of the accused men, and that would be
+sufficient to get his testimony in--his prize stuff about the
+burning barns and the phosphorus bombs. He would be taken care of
+just as thoroughly by the district attorney's office of Eldorado
+County; or better yet, Guffey would write to his friend Steve
+Ellman, who did the detective work for the Home and Fireside
+Association, the big business organization of that city.
+
+Peter hemmed and hawed. This was a pretty hard and dangerous kind of
+work, it really played the devil with a man's nerves, sitting up
+there in the hotel room all day, with nothing to do but smoke
+cigarettes and imagine the "wobblies" throwing bombs at you. Also,
+it wouldn't last very long; it ought to be better paid. Guffey
+answered that Peter needn't worry about the job's lasting; if he
+cared to give this testimony, he might have a joy ride from one end
+of the country to the other, and everywhere he would live on the fat
+of the land, and be a hero in the newspapers.
+
+But still Peter hemmed and hawed. He had learned from the American
+City "Times" how valuable a witness he was, and he ventured to
+demand his price, even from the terrible Guffey; he stuck it out, in
+spite of Guffey's frowns, and the upshot was that Guffey said, All
+right, if Peter would take the trip he might have seventy-five
+dollars a week and expenses, and Guffey would guarantee to keep him
+busy for not less than six months.
+
+
+
+
+Section 76
+
+
+So Peter went to Eldorado, and helped to send eleven men to the
+penitentiary for periods varying from three to fourteen years. Then
+he went to Flagland, and testified in three different trials, and
+added seven more scalps to his belt. By this time he got to realize
+that the worst the Reds could do was to make faces at him and show
+the teeth of trapped rats. He learned to take his profession more
+easily, and would sometimes venture to go out for an evening's
+pleasure without his guards. When he was hidden in the country he
+would take long walks regardless of the thousands of blood-thirsty
+Reds on his trail.
+
+It was while Peter was testifying in Flagland that a magic word was
+flashed from Europe, and the whole city went mad with joy. Everyone,
+from babies to old men, turned out on the streets and waved flags
+and banged tin cans and shouted for peace with victory. When it was
+learned that the newspapers had fooled them, they waited three days,
+and then turned out and went thru the same performance again. Peter
+was a bit worried at first, for fear the coming of peace might end
+his job of saving the country; but presently he realized that there
+was no need for concern, the smashing of the Reds was going on just
+the same.
+
+They had some raids on the Socialists while Peter was in Flagland,
+and the detectives told him he might come along for the fun of it.
+So Peter armed himself with a black-jack and a revolver, and helped
+to rush the Socialist headquarters. The war was over, but Peter felt
+just as military as if it were still going on; when he got the
+little Jewish organizer of the local pent up in a corner behind his
+desk and proceeded to crack him over the head, Peter understood
+exactly how our boys had felt in the Argonne. When he discovered the
+thrill of dancing on typewriter keys with his boots, he even
+understood how the Huns had felt.
+
+The detectives were joined by a bunch of college boys, who took to
+that kind of thing with glee. Having got their blood up, they
+decided they might as well clean out the Red movement entirely, so
+they rushed a place called the "International Book-Shop," kept by a
+Hawaiian. The proprietor dodged into the kitchen of a Chinese
+restaurant next door, and put on an apron; but no one had ever seen
+a Chinaman with a black mustache, so they fell on him and broke
+several of the Chinaman's sauce-pans over his head. They took the
+contents of the "International Book-Shop" into the back yard and
+started a bon-fire with it, and detectives and college boys on a
+lark joined hands and danced an imitation of the Hawaiian hula-hula
+around the blaze.
+
+So Peter lived a merry life for several months. He had one or two
+journeys for nothing, because an obstinate judge refused to admit
+that anything that any I. W. W. had ever said or done anywhere
+within the last ten years was proper testimony to be introduced
+against a particular I. W. W. on trial. But most judges were willing
+to co-operate with the big business men in ridding the country of
+the Red menace, and Peter's total of scalps amounted to over a
+hundred before his time was up, and Guffey sent him his last cheek
+and turned him loose.
+
+That was in the city of Richport, and Peter having in an inside
+pocket something over a thousand dollars in savings, felt that he
+had earned a good time. He went for a stroll on the Gay White Way of
+the city, and in front of a moving picture palace a golden-haired
+girl smiled at him. This was still in the days of two and
+three-fourths per cent beer, and Peter invited her into a saloon to
+have a glass, and when he opened his eyes again it was dark, and he
+had a splitting headache, and he groped around and discovered that
+he was lying in a dark corner of an alleyway. Terror gripped his
+heart, and he clapped his hand to the inside pocket where his wallet
+had been, and there was nothing but horrible emptiness. So Peter was
+ruined once again, and as usual it was a woman that had done it!
+
+Peter went to the police-station, but they never found the woman, or
+if they did, they divided with her and not with Peter. He threw
+himself on the mercy of the sergeant at the desk, and succeeded in
+convincing the sergeant that he, Peter, was a part of the machinery
+of his country's defense, and the sergeant agreed to stand sponsor
+for ten words to Guffey. So Peter sat himself down with a pencil and
+paper, and figured over it, and managed to get it into ten words, as
+follows: "Woman again broke any old job any pay wire fare." And it
+appeared that Guffey must have sat himself down with a pencil and
+paper and figured over it also, for the answer came back in ten
+words, as follows: "Idiot have wired secretary chamber commerce will
+give you ticket."
+
+So Peter repaired forthwith to the stately offices of the Chamber of
+Commerce, and the hustling, efficient young business-man secretary
+sent his clerk to buy Peter a ticket and put him on the train. In a
+time of need like that Peter realized what it meant to have the
+backing of a great and powerful organization, with stately offices
+and money on hand for all emergencies, even when they arose by
+telegraph. He took a new vow of sobriety and decency, so that he
+might always have these forces of law and order on his side.
+
+
+
+
+Section 77
+
+
+Peter was duly scolded, and put to work as an "office man" at his
+old salary of twenty dollars a week. It was his duty to consult with
+Guffey's many "operatives," to tell them everything he knew about
+this individual Red or that organization of Reds. He would use his
+inside knowledge of personalities and doctrines and movements to
+help in framing up testimony, and in setting traps for too ardent
+agitators. He could no longer pose as a Red himself, but sometimes
+there were cases where he could do detective work without being
+recognized; when, for example, there was a question of fixing a
+juror, or of investigating the members of a panel.
+
+The I. W. Ws. had been put out of business in American City, but the
+Socialists were still active, in spite of prosecutions and
+convictions. Also there was a new peril looming up; the returned
+soldiers were coming back, and a lot of them were dissatisfied,
+presuming to complain of their treatment in the army, and of the
+lack of good jobs at home, and even of the peace treaty which the
+President was arranging in Paris. They had fought to make the world
+safe for democracy, and here, they said, it had been made safe for
+the profiteers. This was plain Bolshevism, and in its most dangerous
+form, because these fellows had learned to use guns, and couldn't
+very well be expected to become pacifists right off the bat.
+
+There had been a great labor shortage during the war, and some of
+the more powerful unions had taken the general rise in prices as an
+excuse for demanding higher wages. This naturally had made the
+members of the Chamber of Commerce and the Merchants' and
+Manufacturers' Association indignant, and now they saw their chance
+to use these returned soldiers to smash strikes and to break the
+organizations of the labor men. They proceeded to organize the
+soldiers for this purpose; in American City the Chamber of Commerce
+contributed twenty-five thousand dollars to furnish the club-rooms
+for them, and when the trolley men went on strike the cars were run
+by returned soldiers in uniform.
+
+There was one veteran, a fellow by the name of Sydney, who objected
+to this program. He was publishing a paper, the "Veteran's Friend,"
+and began to use the paper to protest against his comrades acting as
+what he called "scabs." The secretary of the Merchants' and
+Manufacturers' Association sent for him and gave him a straight
+talking to, but he went right ahead with his campaign, and so
+Guffey's office was assigned the task of shutting him up. Peter,
+while he could not take an active part in the job, was the one who
+guided it behind the scenes. They proceeded to plant spies in
+Sydney's office, and they had so many that it was really a joke;
+they used to laugh and say that they trod on one another's toes.
+Sydney was poor, and had not enough money to run his paper, so he
+accepted any volunteer labor that came along. And Guffey sent him
+plenty of volunteers--no less than seven operatives--one keeping
+Sydney's books, another helping with his mailing, two more helping
+to raise funds among the labor unions, others dropping in every day
+or two to advise him. Nevertheless Sydney went right ahead with his
+program of denouncing the Merchants' and Manufacturers' Association,
+and denouncing the government for its failure to provide farms and
+jobs for the veterans.
+
+One of Guffey's "under cover operatives"--that was the technical
+term for the Peter Gudges and Joe Angells--was a man by the name of
+Jonas. This Jonas called himself a "philosophic anarchist," and
+posed as the reddest Red in American City; it was his habit to rise
+up in radical meetings and question the speaker, and try to tempt
+him to justify violence and insurrection and "mass-action." If he
+repudiated these ideas, then Jonas would denounce him as a
+"mollycoddle," a "pink tea Socialist," a "labor faker." Other people
+in the audience would applaud, and so Guffey's men would find out
+who were the real Red sympathizers.
+
+Peter had long suspected Jonas, and now he was sent to meet him in
+Room 427 of the American House, and together they framed up a job on
+Sydney. Jonas wrote a letter, supposed to come from a German
+"comrade," giving the names of some papers in Europe to which the
+editor should send sample copies of his magazine. This letter was
+mailed to Sydney, and next morning Jonas wandered into the office,
+and Sydney showed him the letter, and Jonas told him that these were
+labor papers, and the editors would no doubt be interested to know
+of the feelings of American soldiers since the war. Sydney sat down
+to write a letter, and Jonas stood by his side and told him what to
+write: "To my erstwhile enemies in arms I send fraternal greetings,
+and welcome you as brothers in the new co-operative commonwealth
+which is to be"--and so on, the usual Internationalist patter, which
+all these agitators were spouting day and night, and which ran off
+the ends of their pens automatically. Sydney mailed these letters,
+and the sample copies of the magazine, and Guffey's office tipped
+off the postoffice authorities, who held up the letters. The
+book-keeper, one of Guffey's operatives, went to the Federal
+attorney and made affidavit that Sydney had been carrying on a
+conspiracy with the enemy in war-time, and a warrant was issued, and
+the offices of the magazine were raided, the subscription-lists
+confiscated, and everything in the rooms dumped out into the middle
+of the floor.
+
+So there was a little job all Peter's own; except that Jonas, the
+scoundrel, claimed it for his, and tried to deprive Peter of the
+credit! So Peter was glad when the Federal authorities looked the
+case over and said it was a bum job, and they wouldn't monkey with
+it. However, the evidence was turned over to District-attorney
+Burchard, who wasn't quite so fastidious, and his agents made
+another raid, and smashed up the office again, and threw the
+returned soldier into jail. The judge fixed the bail at fifteen
+thousand dollars, and the American City "Times" published the story
+with scare-headlines all the way across the front page--how the
+editor of the "Veteran's Friend" had been caught conspiring with the
+enemy, and here was a photographic copy of his treasonable letter,
+and a copy of the letter of the mysterious German conspirator with
+whom he had been in relations! They spent more than a year trying
+that editor, and although he was out on bail, Guffey saw to it that
+he could not get a job anywhere in American City; his paper was
+smashed and his family near to starvation.
+
+
+
+
+Section 78
+
+
+Peter had now been working faithfully for six or eight months, and
+all that time he religiously carried out his promise to Guffey and
+did not wink at a woman. But that is an unnatural life for a man,
+and Peter was lonely, his dreams were haunted by the faces of Nell
+Doolin and Rosie Stern, and even of little Jennie Todd. One day
+another face came back to him, the face of Miss Frisbie, the little
+manicurist who had spurned him because he was a Red. Now suddenly
+Peter realized that he was no longer a Red! On the contrary, he was
+a hero, his picture had been published in the American City "Times,"
+and no doubt Miss Frisbie had seen it. Miss Frisbie was a good girl,
+a straight girl, and surely all right for him to know!
+
+So Peter went to the manicure parlor, and sure enough, there was the
+little golden-haired lady; and sure enough, she had read all about
+him, she had been dreaming that some day she might meet him
+again--and so Peter invited her to go to a picture show. On the way
+home they became very chummy, and before a week went by it was as if
+they had been friends for life. When Peter asked Miss Frisbie if he
+might kiss her, she answered coyly that he might, but after he had
+kissed her a few times she explained to him that she was a
+self-supporting woman, alone and defenseless in the world, and she
+had nobody to speak for her but herself; she must tell him that she
+had always been a respectable woman, and that she wanted him to know
+that before he kissed her any more. And Peter thought it over and
+decided that he had sowed his full share of wild oats in this life;
+he was ready to settle down, and the next time he saw Miss Frisbie
+he told her so, and before the evening was by they were engaged.
+
+Then Peter went to see Guffey, and seated himself on the edge of the
+chair alongside Guffey's desk, and twisted his hat in his hands, and
+flushed very red, and began to stammer out his confession. He
+expected to be received with a gale of ridicule; he was immensely
+relieved when Guffey said that if Peter had really found a good girl
+and wanted to marry her, he, Guffey, was for it. There was nothing
+like the influence of a good woman, and Guffey much preferred his
+operatives should be married men, living a settled and respectable
+life. They could be trusted then, and sometimes when a woman
+operative was needed, they had a partner ready to hand. If Peter had
+got married long ago, he might have had a good sum of money in the
+bank by now.
+
+Peter ventured to point out that twenty dollars a week was not
+exactly a marrying salary, in the face of the present high cost of
+living. Guffey answered that that was true, and he would raise Peter
+to thirty dollars right away--only first he demanded the right to
+talk to Peter's fiancee, and judge for himself whether she
+was worthy. Peter was delighted, and Miss Frisbie had a private and
+confidential interview with Peter's boss. But afterwards Peter
+wasn't quite so delighted, for he realized what Guffey had done.
+Peter's future wife had been told all about Peter's weakness, and
+how Peter's boss looked to her to take care of her husband and make
+him walk the chalkline. So a week after Peter had entered the holy
+bonds of matrimony, when he and Mrs. Gudge had their first little
+family tiff, Peter suddenly discovered who was going to be top dog
+in that family. He was shown his place once for all, and he took
+it,--alongside that husband who described his domestic arrangements
+by saying that he and his wife got along beautifully together, they
+had come to an arrangement by which he was to have his way on all
+major issues, and she was to have her way on all minor issues, and
+so far no major issues had arisen.
+
+But really it was a very good thing; for Gladys Frisbie Gudge was an
+excellent manager, and set to work making herself a nest as busily
+as any female beaver. She still hung on to her manicurist job, for
+she had figured it out that the Red movement must be just about
+destroyed by now, and pretty soon Peter might find himself without
+work. In the evenings she took to house-hunting, and during her noon
+hour, without consulting Peter she selected the furniture and the
+wall-paper, and pretty nearly bought out the stock of a
+five-and-ten-cent store to equip the beaver's nest.
+
+Gladys Frisbie Gudge was a diligent reader of the fashion magazines,
+and kept herself right up to the minute with the styles; also she
+had got herself a book on etiquette, and learned it by heart from
+cover to cover, and now she took Peter in hand and taught it to him.
+Why must he always be a "Jimmie Higgins" of the "Whites?" Why
+should he not acquire the vocabulary of an educated man, the arts
+and graces of the well-to-do? Gladys knew that it is these
+subtleties which determine your salary in the long run; so every
+Sunday morning she would dress him up with a new brown derby and a
+new pair of brown kid gloves, and take him to the Church of the
+Divine Compassion, and they would listen to the patriotic sermon of
+the Rev. de Willoughby Stotterbridge, and Gladys would bow her head
+in prayer, and out of the corner of her eye would get points on
+costumes from the lady in the next pew. And afterwards they would
+join the Sunday parade, and Gladys would point out to Peter the
+marks of what she called "gentility." In the evenings they would go
+walking, and she would stop in front of the big shop-windows, or
+take him into the hotel lobbies where the rich could be seen free of
+charge. Peter would be hungry, and would want to go to a cheap
+restaurant and fill himself up with honest grub; but Gladys, who had
+the appetite of a bird, would insist on marching him into the
+dining-room of the Hotel de Soto and making a meal upon a cup of
+broth and some bread and butter--just in order that they might gaze
+upon a scene of elegance and see bow "genteel" people ate their
+food.
+
+
+
+
+Section 79
+
+
+And just as ardently as Gladys Frisbie Gudge adored the rich, so
+ardently did she object to the poor. If you pinned her down to it,
+she would admit that there had to be poor; there could not be
+gentility, except on the basis of a large class of ungentility. The
+poor were all right in their place; what Gladys objected to was
+their presuming to try to get out of their place, or to criticise
+their betters. She had a word by which she summed up everything that
+she despised in the world, and that word was "common;" she used it
+to describe the sort of people she declined to meet, and she used it
+in correcting Peter's manners and his taste in hats. To be "common"
+was to be damned; and when Gladys saw people who were indubitably
+and inescapably "common," presuming to set themselves up and form
+standards of their own, she took it as a personal affront, she
+became vindictive and implacable towards them. Each and every one of
+them became to her a personal enemy, an enemy to something far more
+precious than her person, an enemy to the thing she aspired to
+become, to her ideal.
+
+Peter had once been like that himself, but now he was so
+comfortable, he had a tendency to become lazy and easy-going. It was
+well, therefore, that he had Gladys to jack him up, and keep him on
+his job. Gladys at first did not meet any Reds face to face, she
+knew them only by the stories that Peter brought home to her when
+his day's work was done. But each new group that he was hounding
+became to Gladys an assemblage of incarnate fiends, and while she
+sat polishing the finger-nails of stout society ladies who were too
+sleepy to talk, Gladys' busy mind would be working over schemes to
+foil these fiends.
+
+Sometimes her ideas were quite wonderful. She had a woman's
+intuition, the knowledge of human foibles, all the intricate
+subtleties of the emotional life; she would bring to Peter a program
+for the undoing of some young radical, as complete as if she had
+known the man or woman all her life. Peter took her ideas to
+McGivney, and then to Guffey, and the result was that her talents
+were recognized, and by the lever of a generous salary she was pried
+loose from the manicure parlor. Guffey sent her to make the
+acquaintance of the servants in the household of a certain rich man
+who was continually making contributions to the Direct Primary
+Association and other semi-Red organizations, and who was believed
+to have a scandal in his private life. So successful was Gladys at
+this job that presently Guffey set her at the still more delicate
+task of visiting rich ladies, and impressing upon them the
+seriousness of the Red peril, and persuading them to meet the
+continually increasing expenses of Guffey's office.
+
+Just now was a busy time in the anti-Red campaign. For nearly two
+years, ever since the Bolshevik revolution in Russia, there had been
+gradually developing a split in the Socialist movement, and the
+"under-cover" operatives of the Traction Trust, as well as those of
+the district attorney's office and of the Federal government, had
+been working diligently to widen this split and develop dissensions
+in the organization. There were some Socialists who believed in
+politics, and were prepared to devote their lives to the slow and
+tedious job of building up a party. There were others who were
+impatient, looking for a short cut, a general strike or a mass
+insurrection of the workers which would put an end to the slavery of
+capitalism. The whole game of politics was rotten, these would
+argue; a politician could find more ways to fool the workers in a
+minute than the workers could thwart in a year. They pointed to the
+German Socialists, those betrayers of internationalism. There were
+people who called themselves Socialists right here in American City
+who wanted to draw the movement into the same kind of trap!
+
+This debate was not conducted in the realm of abstractions; the two
+wings of the movement would attack one another with bitterness. The
+"politicians" would denounce the "impossibilists," calling them
+"anarchists;" and the other side, thus goaded, would accuse their
+enemies of being in the hire of the government. Peter would supply
+McGivney with bits of scandal which the "under cover" men would
+start going among the "left-wingers;" and in the course of the long
+wrangles in the local these accusations would come out. Herbert
+Ashton would mention them with his biting sarcasm, or "Shorty"
+Gunton would shout them in one of his tirades--"hurling them into
+his opponents teeth," as he phrased it.
+
+"Shorty" Gunton was a tramp printer, a wandering agitator who was
+all for direct action, and didn't care a hang who knew it.
+"Violence?" he would say. "How many thousand years shall we submit
+to the violence of capitalist governments, and never have the right
+to reply?" And then again he would say, "Violence? Yes, of course
+we must repudiate violence--until we get enough of it!" Peter had
+listened to "Shorty's" railings at the "compromisers" and the
+"political traders," and had thought him one of the most dangerous
+men in American City. But later on, after the episode of Joe Angell
+had opened Peter's eyes, he decided that "Shorty" must also be a
+secret agent like himself.
+
+Peter was never told definitely, but he picked up a fact here and
+there, and fitted them together, and before long his suspicion had
+become certainty. The "left wing" Socialists split off from the
+party, and called a convention of their own, and this convention in
+turn split up, one part forming the Communist Party, and another
+part forming the Communist Labor Party. While these two conventions
+were in session, McGivney came to Peter, and said that the Federal
+government had a man on the platform committee of the Communist
+Party, and they wanted to write in some phrases that would make
+membership in that party in itself a crime, so that everybody who
+held a membership card could be sent to prison without further
+evidence. These phrases must be in the orthodox Communist lingo, and
+this was where Peter's specialized knowledge was needed.
+
+So Peter wrote the phrases, and a couple of days later he read in
+the newspapers an account of the convention proceedings. The
+platform committee had reported, and "Shorty" Gunton had submitted a
+minority report, and had made a fiery speech in the convention, with
+the result that his minority report was carried by a narrow margin.
+This minority report contained all the phrases that Peter had
+written. A couple of months later, when the government had its case
+ready, and the wholesale raids upon the Communists took place,
+"Shorty" Gunton was arrested, but a few days later he made a
+dramatic escape by sawing his way thru the roof of the jail!
+
+
+
+
+Section 80
+
+
+The I. W. W. had bobbed up again in American City, and had ventured
+to open another headquarters. Peter did not dare go to the place
+himself, but he coached a couple of young fellows whom McGivney
+brought to him, teaching them the Red lingo, and how to worm their
+way into the movement. Before long one of them was secretary of the
+local; and Peter, directing their activities, received reports twice
+a week of everything the "wobblies" were planning and doing. Peter
+and Gladys were figuring out another bomb conspiracy to direct
+attention to these dangerous men, when one day Peter picked up the
+morning paper and discovered that a kind Providence had delivered
+the enemy into his hands.
+
+Up in the lumber country of the far Northwest, in a little town
+called Centralia, the "wobblies" had had their headquarters raided
+and smashed, just as in American City. They had got themselves
+another meeting-place, and again the members of the Chamber of
+Commerce and the Merchants' and Manufacturers' Association had held
+a secret meeting and resolved to wipe them out. The "wobblies" had
+appealed to the authorities for protection, and when protection was
+refused, they had printed a leaflet appealing to the public. But the
+business men went ahead with their plans. They arranged for a parade
+of returned soldiers on the anniversary of Armistice Day, and they
+diverted this parade out of its path so that it would pass in front
+of the I. W. W. headquarters. Some of the more ardent members
+carried ropes, symbolic of what they meant to do; and they brought
+the parade to a halt in front of the headquarters, and set up a yell
+and started to rush the hall. They battered in the door, and had
+pushed their way half thru it when the "wobblies" opened fire from
+inside, killing several of the paraders.
+
+Then, of course, the mob flew into a frenzy of fury. They beat the
+men in the hall, some of them into insensibility; they flung them
+into jail, and battered and tortured them, and took one of them out
+of jail and carried him away in an automobile, and after they had
+mutilated him as Shawn Grady had been mutilated, they hanged him
+from a bridge. Of course they saw to it that the newspaper stories
+which went out from Centralia that night were the right kind of
+stories; and next morning all America read how a group of "wobblies"
+had armed themselves with rifles, and concealed themselves on the
+roof of the I. W. W. headquarters, and deliberately and in cold
+blood had opened fire upon a peaceful parade of unarmed war
+veterans.
+
+Of course the country went wild, and the Guffeys and McGivneys and
+Gudges all over the United States realized that their chance had
+come. Peter instructed the secretary of the I. W. W. local of
+American City to call a meeting for that evening, to adopt a
+resolution declaring the press stories from Centralia to be lies. At
+the same time another of Guffey's men, an ex-army officer still
+wearing his, uniform, caused a meeting of the American Legion to be
+summoned; he made a furious address to the boys, and at nine o'clock
+that night some two-score of them set out, armed with big
+monkey-wrenches from their automobiles, and raided the I. W. W.
+headquarters, and battered the members over the head with the
+monkey-wrenches, causing several to leap from the window and break
+their legs. Next morning the incident was reported in the American
+City "Times" with shouts of glee, and District-attorney Burchard
+issued a public statement to the effect that no effort would be made
+to punish the soldier boys; the "wobblies" had wanted "direct
+action," and they had got it, and it would be assumed that they were
+satisfied.
+
+Then the members of the American Legion, encouraged by this
+applause, and instigated by Guffey's ex-army officer, proceeded to
+invade and wreck every radical meeting-place in the city. They
+smashed the "Clarion" office and the Socialist Party headquarters
+again, and confiscated more tons of literature. They wrecked a
+couple of book-stores, and then, breaking up into small groups, they
+inspected all the news-stands in the city, and wherever they found
+Red magazines like the Nation or the New Republic, they tore up the
+copies and threatened the agents with arrest. They invaded the rooms
+of a literary society called the Ruskin Club, frequented mostly by
+amiable old ladies, and sent some of these elderly dames into
+hysterics. They discovered the "Russian Peoples' Club," which had
+hitherto been overlooked because it was an educational organization.
+But of course no Russian could be trusted these days--all of them
+were Bolsheviks, or on the way to becoming Bolsheviks, which was the
+same thing; so Guffey organized a raid on this building, and some
+two hundred Russians were clubbed and thrown downstairs or out of
+windows, and an elderly teacher of mathematics had his skull
+cracked, and a teacher of music had some teeth knocked out.
+
+There were several million young Americans who had been put into
+military uniform, and had guns put into their hands, and been put
+thru target practice and bayonet drill, and then had not seen any
+fighting. These fellows were, as the phrase has it, "spoiling for a
+fight;" and here was their chance. It was just as much fun as trench
+warfare, and had the advantage of not being dangerous. When the
+raiding parties came back, there were no missing members, and no
+casualties to be telegraphed to heartbroken parents. Some fool women
+got together and tried to organize a procession to protest against
+the blockade of Russia; the raiders fell upon these women, and
+wrecked their banners, and tore their clothing to bits, and the
+police hustled what was left of them off to jail. It happened that a
+well-known "sporting man," that is to say a race-track frequenter,
+came along wearing a red necktie, and the raiders, taking him for a
+Bolshevik, fell upon him and pretty nearly mauled the life out of
+him. After that there was protest from people who thought it unwise
+to break too many laws while defending law and order, so the
+district attorney's office arranged to take on the young soldier
+boys as deputy sheriffs, and give them all badges, legal and proper.
+
+
+
+
+Section 81
+
+
+Peter Gudge often went along on these hunting parties. Peter,
+curiously enough, discovered in himself the same "complex" as the
+balked soldier boys. Peter had been reading war news for five years,
+but had missed the fighting; and now he discovered that he liked to
+fight. What had kept him from liking to fight in the past was the
+danger of getting hurt; but now that there was no such danger, he
+could enjoy it. In past times people had called him a coward, and he
+had heard it so often that he had come to believe it; but now he
+realized that it was not true, he was just as brave as anybody else
+in the crowd.
+
+The truth was that Peter had not had a happy time in his youth, he
+had never learned, like the younger members of the Chamber of
+Commerce and the Merchants' and Manufacturers' Association, to knock
+a little white ball about a field with various shapes and sizes of
+clubs. Peter was like a business man who has missed his boyhood, and
+then in later years finds the need of recreation, and takes up some
+form of sport by the orders of his physician. It became Peter's,
+form of sport to stick an automatic revolver in his hip-pocket, and
+take a blackjack in his hand, and rush into a room where thirty or
+forty Russians or "Sheenies" of all ages and lengths of beard were
+struggling to learn the intricacies of English spelling. Peter would
+give a yell, and see this crowd leap and scurry hither and thither,
+and chase them about and take a whack at a head wherever he saw one,
+and jump into a crowd who were bunched together like sheep, trying
+to hide their heads, and pound them over the exposed parts of their
+anatomy until they scattered into the open again. He liked to get a
+lot of them started downstairs and send them tumbling heels over
+head; or if he could get them going out a window, that was more
+exhilarating yet, and he would yell and whoop at them. He learned
+some of their cries--outlandish gibberish it was--and he would curse
+them in their own language. He had a streak of the monkey in him,
+and as he got to know these people better he would imitate their
+antics and their gestures of horror, and set a whole room full of
+the "bulls" laughing to split their sides. There was a famous
+"movie" comedian with big feet, and Peter would imitate this man,
+and waddle up to some wretched sweat-shop worker and boot him in the
+trousers' seat, or step on his toes, or maybe spit in his eye. So he
+became extremely popular among the "bulls," and they would insist on
+his going everywhere with them.
+
+Later on, when the government set to work to break up the Communist
+Party and the Communist Labor Party, Peter's popularity and prestige
+increased still more. For now, instead of just raiding and smashing,
+the police and detectives would round up the prisoners and
+arrest them by hundreds, and carry them off and put them thru
+"examinations." And Peter was always needed for this; his special
+knowledge made him indispensable, and he became practically the boss
+of the proceedings. It had been arranged thru "Shorty" Gunton and
+the other "under cover" men that the meetings of the Communist and
+Communist Labor parties should be held on the same night; and all
+over the country this same thing was done, and next morning the
+world was electrified by the news that all these meetings had been
+raided at the same hour, and thousands of Reds placed under arrest.
+In American City the Federal government had hired a suite of about a
+dozen rooms adjoining the offices of Guffey, and all night and next
+morning batches of prisoners were brought in, until there were about
+four hundred in all. They were crowded into these rooms with barely
+space to sit down; of course there was an awful uproar, moaning and
+screaming of people who had been battered, and a smell that beat the
+monkey cage at the zoological gardens.
+
+The prisoners were kept penned up in this place for several weeks,
+and all the time more were being brought in; there were so many that
+the women had to be stored in the toilets. Many of the prisoners
+fell ill, or pretended to fall ill, and several of them went insane,
+or pretended to go insane, and several of them died, or pretended to
+die. And of course the parlor Reds and sympathizers were busy
+outside making a terrible fuss about it. They had no more papers,
+and could not hold any more meetings, and when they tried to
+circulate literature the post-office authorities tied them up; but
+still somehow they managed to get publicity, and Peter's "under
+cover" men would report to him who was doing this work, and Peter
+would arrange to have more raids and more batches of prisoners
+brought in. In one of the "bomb-plots" which had been unveiled in
+the East they had discovered some pink paper, used either for
+printing leaflets, or for wrapping explosives, one could not be
+sure. Anyhow, the secret agencies with which Guffey was connected
+had distributed samples of this paper over the country, and any time
+the police wanted to finish some poor devil, they would find this
+deadly "pink paper" in his possession, and the newspapers would
+brand him as one of the group of conspirators who were sending
+infernal machines thru the mails.
+
+
+
+
+Section 82
+
+
+Peter was so busy these days that he missed several nights' sleep,
+and hardly even stopped to eat. He had his own private room, where
+the prisoners were brought for examination, and he had half a dozen
+men under his orders to do the "strong arm" work. It was his task to
+extract from these prisoners admissions which would justify their
+being sent to prison if they were citizens, or being deported if
+they were aliens. There was of course seldom any way to distinguish
+between citizens and aliens; you just had to take a chance on it,
+proceeding on the certainty that all were dangerous. Many years ago,
+when Peter had been working for Pericles Priam, they had spent
+several months in a boarding house, and you could tell when there
+was going to be beef-steak for dinner, because you heard the cook
+pounding it with the potato-masher to "tender it up;" and Peter
+learned this phrase, and now used the process upon his alien Reds.
+When they came into the room, Peter's men would fall upon them and
+beat them and cuff them, knocking them about from one fist to
+another. If they were stubborn and would not "come across," Peter
+would take them in hand himself, remembering how successful Guffey
+had been in getting things out of him by the twisting of wrists and
+the bending back of fingers.
+
+It was amazing how clever and subtle some of these fellows were.
+They were just lousy foreign laborers, but they spent all their
+spare time reading; you would find large collections of books in
+their rooms when you made your raids, and they knew exactly what you
+wanted, and would parry your questions. Peter would say: "You're an
+Anarchist, aren't you?" And the answer would be: "I'm not an
+Anarchist in the sense of the word you mean"--as if there could be
+two meanings of the word "Anarchist!" Peter would say, "You believe
+in violence, do you not?" And then the fellow would become
+impertinent: "It is you who believe in violence, look at my face
+that you have smashed." Or Peter would say, "You don't like this
+government, do you?" And the answer would be, "I always liked it
+until it treated me so badly"--all kinds of evasions like that, and
+there would be a stenographer taking it down, and unless Peter could
+get something into the record that was a confession, it would not be
+possible to deport that Red. So Peter would fall upon him and
+"tender him up" until he would answer what he was told to answer; or
+maybe Peter would prepare an interview as he wanted it to be, and
+the detectives would grab the man's hand and make him sign it; or
+maybe Peter would just sign it himself.
+
+These were harsh methods, but there was no way to help it, the Reds
+were so cunning. They were secretly undermining the government, and
+was the government to lie down and admit its helplessness? The
+answer of 100% Americanism was thundered from every wood and templed
+hill in the country; also from every newspaper office. The answer
+was "No!" 100% Americanism would find a way to preserve itself from
+the sophistries of European Bolshevism; 100% Americanism had worked
+out its formula: "If they don't like this country, let them go back
+where they come from." But of course, knowing in their hearts that
+America was the best country in the world, they didn't want to go
+back, and it was necessary to make them go.
+
+Peter was there for that purpose, and his devoted wife was by his
+side, egging him on with her feminine implacability. Gladys had
+always been accustomed to refer to these people as "cattle," and
+now, when she smelled them herded together in these office rooms for
+several weeks, she knew that she was right, and that no fate could
+be too stern for them. Presently with Peter's help she discovered
+another bomb-plot, this time against the Attorney-General of the
+country, who was directing these wholesale raids. They grabbed four
+Italian Anarchists in American City, and kept them apart in special
+rooms, and for a couple of months Peter labored with them to get
+what he wanted out of them. Just as Peter thought he had succeeded,
+his efforts were balked by one of them jumping out of the window.
+The room being on the fourteenth story, this Italian Anarchist was
+no longer available as a witness against himself. The incident set
+the parlor Bolsheviks all over the country to raging, and caused
+David Andrews to get some kind of court injunction, and make a lot
+of inconvenience to Guffey's office.
+
+However, the work went on; the Reds were gradually sorted out, and
+some who proved not to be Reds were let go again, and others were
+loaded onto special Red trains and taken to the nearest ports. Some
+of them went in grim silence, others went with furious cursings, and
+yet others with wailings and shriekings; for many of them had
+families, and they had the nerve to demand that the government
+should undertake to ship their families also, or else to take care
+of their families for them! The government, naturally, admitted no
+such responsibility. The Reds had no end of money for printing
+seditious literature, so let them use it to take care of their own!
+
+In these various raids and examinations Peter of course met a great
+many of the Reds whom he had once known as friends and intimates.
+Peter had been wont to imagine himself meeting them, and to tremble
+at the bare idea; but now he found that he rather enjoyed it. He was
+entirely delivered from that fear of them, which had formerly
+spoiled his appetite and disturbed his sleep. He had learned that
+the Reds were poor creatures who did not fight back; they had no
+weapons, and many of them did not even have muscles; there was
+really nothing to them but talk. And Peter knew that he had the
+power of organized society behind him, the police and the courts and
+the jails, if necessary the army with its machine guns and airplanes
+and poison gas. Not merely was it safe to pound these people, to
+tread on their toes and spit in their eyes; it was safe also to
+frame up anything on them, because the newspapers would always back
+you up, and the public would of course believe whatever it read in
+its newspapers.
+
+No, Peter was no longer afraid of the Reds! He made up his mind that
+he was not even afraid of Mac, the most dangerous Red of them all.
+Mac was safely put away in jail for twenty years, and although his
+case had been appealed, the court had refused to grant a stay of
+sentence or to let him out on bail. As it happened, Peter got a
+glimpse into Mac's soul in jail, and knew that even that proud, grim
+spirit was breaking. Mac in jail had written a letter to one of his
+fellow-Reds in American City, and the post-office authorities had
+intercepted the letter, and Guffey had shown it to Peter. "Write to
+us!" Mac had pleaded. "For God's sake, write to us! The worst horror
+of being in jail is that you are forgotten. Do at least let us know
+that somebody is thinking about us!"
+
+So Peter knew that he was the victor, he was "top dog." And when he
+met these Reds whom he had been so afraid of, he took pleasure in
+letting them feel the weight of his authority, and sometimes of his
+fist. It was amusing to see the various ways in which they behaved
+toward him. Some would try to plead with him, for the sake of old
+times; some would cringe and whine to him; some would try to reason
+with him, to touch his conscience. But mostly they would be haughty,
+they would glare at him with hate, or put a sneer of contempt on
+their faces. So Peter would set his "bulls" to work to improve their
+manners, and a little thumb-bending and wrist-twisting would soon do
+the work.
+
+
+
+
+Section 83
+
+
+Among the first load to be brought in was Miriam Yankovich. Miriam
+had joined the Communist Party, and she had been born in Russia, so
+that was all there was to her case. Peter, knew, of course that it
+was Miriam who had set Rosie Stern after him and brought about his
+downfall. Still, he could not help but be moved by her appearance.
+She looked haggard and old, and she had a cough, and her eyes were
+wild and crazy. Peter remembered her as proud and hot-tempered, but
+now her pride was all gone--she flung herself on her knees before
+him, and caught hold of his coat, sobbing hysterically. It appeared
+that she had a mother and five young brothers and sisters who were
+dependent upon her earnings; all her money had been consumed by
+hospital expenses, and now she was to be deported to Russia, and
+what would become of her loved ones?
+
+Peter answered, what could he do? She had violated the law, they had
+her membership card in the Communist Party, and she had admitted
+that she was alien born. He tried to draw away, but she clung to
+him, and went on sobbing and pleading. At least she ought to have a
+chance to talk with her old mother, to tell her what to do, where to
+go for help, how to communicate with Miriam in future. They were
+sending her away without allowing her to have a word with her loved
+ones, without even a chance to get her clothing!
+
+Peter, as we know, had always been soft-hearted towards women, so
+now he was embarrassed. In the handling of these cattle he was
+carrying out the orders of his superiors; he had no power to grant
+favors to any one, and he told Miriam this again and again. But she
+would not listen to him. "Please, Peter, please! For God's sake,
+Peter! You know you were once a little in love with me, Peter--you
+told me so--"
+
+Yes, that was true, but it hadn't done Peter much good. Miriam had
+been interested in Mac--in Mac, that most dangerous devil, who had
+given Peter so many anxious hours! She had brushed Peter to one
+side, she had hardly been willing to listen to what he said; and now
+she was trying to use that love she had spurned!
+
+She had got hold of his hand, and he could not get it away from her
+without violence. "If you ever felt a spark of love for a woman,"
+she cried, "surely you cannot deny such a favor--such a little
+favor! Please, Peter, for the sake of old times!"
+
+Suddenly Peter started, and Miriam too. There came a voice from the
+doorway. "So this is one of your lady friends, is it?" And there
+stood Gladys, staring, rigid with anger, her little hands clenched.
+"So this is one of your Red sweethearts, one of your nationalized
+women?" And she stamped her foot. "Get up, you hussy! Get up, you
+slut!" And as Miriam continued to kneel, motionless with surprise,
+Gladys rushed at her, and clutched two handfuls of her heavy black
+hair, and pulled so that Miriam fell prone on the floor. "I'll teach
+you, you free lover!" she screamed. "I'll teach you to make love to
+my husband!" And she dragged Miriam about by that mop of black hair,
+kicking her and clawing her, until finally several of the bulls had
+to interfere to save the girl's life.
+
+As a matter of fact Gladys had been told about Peter's shameful past
+before she married him; Guffey had told her, and she had told Peter
+that Guffey had told her, she had reminded Peter of it many, many
+times. But the actual sight of one of these "nationalized women" had
+driven her into a frenzy, and it was a week before peace was
+restored in the Gudge family. Meantime poor Peter was buffeted by
+storms of emotion, both at home and in his office. They were getting
+ready the first Red train, and it seemed as if every foreign Red
+that Peter had ever known was besieging him, trying to get at him
+and harrow his soul and his conscience. Sadie Todd's cousin, who had
+been born in England, was shipped out on this first train, and also
+a Finnish lumberman whom Peter had known in the I. W. W., and a
+Bohemian cigar worker at whose home he had several times eaten, and
+finally Michael Dubin, the Jewish boy with whom he had spent fifteen
+days in jail, and who had been one of the victims of the black-snake
+whippings.
+
+Michael made no end of wailing, because he had a wife and three
+babies, and he set up the claim that when the "bulls" had raided his
+home they had stolen all his savings, two or three hundred dollars.
+Peter, of course, insisted that he could do nothing; Dubin was a Red
+and an alien, and he must go. When they were loading them on the
+train, there was Dubin's wife and half a hundred other women,
+shrieking and wringing their hands, and trying to break thru the
+guards to get near their loved ones. The police had to punch them in
+the stomachs with their clubs to hold them back, and in spite of all
+these blows, the hysterical Mrs. Dubin succeeded in breaking thru
+the guards, and she threw herself under the wheels of the train, and
+they were barely able to drag her away in time to save her life.
+Scenes like this would, of course, have a bad effect upon the
+public, and so Guffey called up the editors of all the newspapers,
+and obtained a gentleman's agreement that none of them would print
+any details.
+
+
+
+
+Section 84
+
+
+All over the country the Red trains were moving eastward, loaded
+with "wobblies" and communists, pacifists and anarchists, and a
+hundred other varieties of Bolsheviks. They got a shipload together
+and started them off for Russia--the "Red Ark" it was called, and
+the Red soap-boxers set tip a terrific uproar, and one Red clergyman
+compared the "Red Ark" to the Mayflower! Also there was some Red
+official in Washington, who made a fuss and cancelled a whole block
+of deportation orders, including some of Peter's own cases. This,
+naturally, was exasperating to Peter and his wife; and on top of it
+came another incident that was still more humiliating.
+
+There was a "pink" mass meeting held in American City, to protest
+against the deportations. Guffey said they would quite probably raid
+the meeting, and Peter must go along, so as to point out the Reds to
+the bulls. The work was in charge of a police detective by the name
+of Garrity, head of what was called the "Bomb Squad"; but this man
+didn't know very much, so he had the habit of coming to Peter for
+advice. Now he had the whole responsibility of this meeting, and he
+asked Peter to come up on the platform with him, and Peter went.
+Here was a vast audience--all the Red fury which had been pent up
+for many months, breaking loose in a whirlwind of excitement. Here
+were orators, well dressed and apparently respectable men, not in
+any way to be distinguished from the born rulers of the country,
+coming forward on the platform and uttering the most treasonable
+sentences, denouncing the government, denouncing the blockade
+against Russia, praising the Bolshevik government of Russia,
+declaring that the people who went away in the "Soviet Ark" were
+fortunate, because they were escaping from a land of tyranny into a
+land of freedom. At every few sentences the orator would be stopped
+by a storm of applause that broke from the audience.
+
+And what was a poor Irish Catholic police detective to make of a
+proposition like that? Here stood an orator declaring: "Whenever any
+form of government becomes destructive to these ends, it is the
+right of the people to alter or to abolish it, and to institute new
+government, laying its foundations on such principles and organizing
+its powers in such form, as to them shall seem most likely to effect
+their safety and happiness." And Garrity turned to Peter. "What do
+you think of that?" he said, his good-natured Irish face blank with
+dismay.
+
+Peter thought it was the limit. Peter knew that thousands of men all
+over America had been sent to prison for saying things less
+dangerous than that. Peter had read many sets of instructions from
+the office of the Attorney-General of the United States, and knew
+officially that that was precisely the thing you were never under
+any circumstances permitted to say, or to write, or even to think.
+So Peter said to Garrity: "That fellow's gone far enough. You better
+arrest him." Garrity spoke to his men, and they sprang forward on
+the platform, and stopped the orator and placed him and all his
+fellow-orators under arrest, and ordered the audience out of the
+building. There were a couple of hundred policemen and detectives on
+hand to carry out Garrity's commands, and they formed a line with
+their clubs, and drove the crowd before them, and carted the
+speakers off in a patrol wagon. Then Peter went back to Guffey's
+office, and told what he had done--and got a reception that reminded
+him of the time Guffey had confronted him with the letter from Nell
+Doolin! "Who do you think that was you pinched?" cried Guffey.
+"He's the brother of a United States senator! And what do you think
+he was saying? That was a sentence from the Declaration of
+Independence!"
+
+
+Peter couldn't "get it"; Peter was utterly lost. Could a man go
+ahead and break the law, just because he happened to be a brother of
+a United States senator? And what difference did it make whether a
+thing was in the Declaration of Independence, if it was seditious,
+if it wasn't allowed to be said? This incident brought Guffey and
+the police authorities of the city so much ridicule that Guffey got
+all his men together and read them a lecture, explaining to them
+just what were the limits of the anti-Red activities, just who it
+was they mustn't arrest, and just what it was they couldn't keep
+people from saying. For example, a man couldn't be arrested for
+quoting the Bible.
+
+"But Jesus Christ, Guffey," broke in one of the men, "have all of us
+got to know the Bible by heart?"
+
+There was a laugh all round. "No," Guffey admitted, "but at least be
+careful, and don't arrest anybody for saying anything that sounds as
+if it came from the Bible."
+
+"But hell!" put in another of the men, who happened to be an
+ex-preacher. "That'll tie us up tighter than a jail-sentence! Look
+what's in the Bible!"
+
+And he proceeded to quote some of the things, and Peter knew that he
+had never heard any Bolshevik talk more outrageous than that. It
+made one realize more than ever how complicated was this Red
+problem; for Guffey insisted, in spite of everything, that every
+word out of the Bible was immune. "Up in Winnipeg," said he, "they
+indicted a clergyman for quoting two passages from the prophet
+Isaiah, but they couldn't face it, they had to let the fellow go."
+And the same thing was true of the Declaration of Independence;
+anybody might read it, no matter how seditious it was. And the same
+thing was true of the Constitution, even tho the part called the
+Bill of Rights declared that everybody in America might do all the
+things that Guffey's office was sending them to jail for doing!
+
+This seemed a plain crazy proposition; but Guffey explained it as a
+matter of politics. If they went too far, these fellows would go out
+and capture the votes from them, and maybe take away the government
+from them, and where would they be then? Peter had never paid any
+attention to politics before this, but both he and Gladys realized
+after this lecture that they must broaden their view-point. It was
+not enough to put the Reds in jail and crack their skulls, you had
+to keep public sympathy for what you were doing, you had to make the
+public understand that it was necessary, you had to carry on what
+was called "propaganda," to keep the public aware of the odiousness
+of these cattle, and the desperate nature of their purposes.
+
+The man who perceived that most clearly was the Attorney-General of
+the country, and Guffey in his lecture pointed out the double nature
+of his activities. Not merely was the Attorney-General breaking up
+the Communist and the Communist Labor parties and sending their
+members to jail; he was using the funds of his office to send out an
+endless stream of propaganda, to keep the country frightened about
+these Red plots. Right now he had men in American City working over
+the data which Guffey had collected, and every week or two he would
+make a speech somewhere, or would issue a statement to the
+newspapers, telling of new bomb plots and new conspiracies to
+overthrow the government. And how clever he was about it! He would
+get the pictures of the very worst-looking of the Reds, pictures
+taken after they had been kept in jail for weeks without a shave,
+and with the third degree to spoil their tempers; and these pictures
+would be spread on a sheet with the caption: "MEN LIKE THESE WOULD
+RULE YOU." This would be sent to ten thousand country newspapers all
+over the nation, and ninety-nine hundred would publish it, and
+ninety-nine million Americans would want to murder the Reds
+next morning. So successful had this plan proven that the
+Attorney-General was expecting to be nominated for President by
+means of it, and all the agencies of his department were working to
+that end.
+
+The same thing was being done by all the other agencies of big
+business all over the country. The "Improve America League" of
+American City was publishing full-page advertisements in the
+"Times," and the "Home and Fireside Association" of Eldorado was
+doing the same thing in the Eldorado "Times," and the "Patriot's
+Defense Legion" was doing the same thing in the Flagland "Banner."
+They were investigating the records of all political candidates, and
+if any of them showed the faintest tinge of pink, Guffey's office
+would set to work to rake up their records and get up scandals on
+them, and the business men would contribute a big campaign fund, and
+these candidates would be snowed under at the polls. That was the
+kind of work they were doing, and all Guffey's operatives must bear
+in mind the importance of it, and must never take any step that
+would hamper this political campaign, this propaganda on behalf of
+law and order.
+
+
+
+
+Section 85
+
+
+Peter went out from this conference a sober man, realizing for the
+first time his responsibilities as a voter, and a shepherd to other
+voters. Peter agreed with Gladys that his views had been too narrow;
+his conception of the duties of a secret agent had been of the
+pre-war order. Now he must realize that the world was changed; now,
+in this new world made safe for democracy, the secret agent was the
+real ruler of society, the real master of affairs, the trustee, as
+it were, for civilization. Peter and his wife must take up this new
+role and make themselves fit for it. They ought of course not be
+moved by personal considerations, but at the same time they must
+recognize the fact that this higher role would be of great advantage
+to them; it would enable them to move up in the world, to meet the
+best people. Thru five or six years of her young life Gladys had sat
+polishing the fingernails and fondling the soft white hands of the
+genteel; and always a fire of determination had burnt in her breast,
+that some day she would belong to this world of gentility, she would
+meet these people, not as an employee, but as an equal, she would
+not merely hold their hands, but would have them hold hers.
+
+Now the chance had come. She had a little talk with Guffey, and
+Guffey said it would be a good idea, and he would speak to Billy
+Nash, the secretary of the "Improve America League"; and he did so,
+and next week the American City "Times" announced that on the
+following Sunday evening the Men's Bible Class of the Bethlehem
+Church would have an interesting meeting. It would be addressed by
+an "under cover" operative of the government, a former Red who had
+been for many years a most dangerous agitator, but had seen the
+error of his ways, and had made amends by giving his services to the
+government in the recent I. W. W. trials.
+
+The Bethlehem Church didn't amount to very much, it was an obscure
+sect like the Holy Rollers; but Gladys had been shrewd, and had
+insisted that you mustn't try to climb to the top of the mountain in
+one step. Peter must first "try it on the dog," and if he failed,
+there would be no great harm done.
+
+But Gladys worked just as hard to make a success of this lecture as
+if they had been going into real society. She spent several days
+getting up her costume and Peter's, and she spent a whole day
+getting her toilet ready, and before they set out she spent at least
+an hour putting the finishing touches upon herself in front of a
+mirror, and seeing that Peter was proper in every detail. When Mr.
+Nash introduced her personally to the Rev. Zebediah Muggins, and
+when this apostle of the second advent came out upon the platform
+and introduced her husband to the crowded working-class audience,
+Gladys was so a-quiver with delight that it was more a pain than a
+pleasure.
+
+Peter did not do perfectly, of course. He lost himself a few times,
+and stammered and floundered about; but he remembered Glady's
+advice--if he got stuck, to smile and explain that he had never
+spoken in public before. So everything went along nicely, and
+everybody in the Men's Bible Class was aghast at the incredible
+revelations of this ex-Red and secret agent of law and order. So
+next week Peter was invited again--this time by the Young Saints'
+League; and when he had made good there, he was drafted by the Ad.
+Men's Association, and then by the Crackers and Cheese Club. By this
+time he had acquired what Gladys called "savwaa fair"; his fame
+spread rapidly, and at last came the supreme hour--he was summoned
+to Park Avenue to address the members of the Friendly Society, a
+parish organization of the Church of the Divine Compassion!
+
+This was the goal upon which the eyes of Gladys had been fixed. This
+was the time that really counted, and Peter was groomed and
+rehearsed all over again. Their home was only a few blocks from the
+church, but Gladys insisted that they must positively arrive in a
+taxi-cab, and when they entered the Parish Hall and the Rev. de
+Willoughby Stotterbridge, that exquisite almost-English gentleman,
+came up and shook hands with them, Gladys knew that she had at last
+arrived. The clergyman himself escorted her to the platform, and
+after he had introduced Peter, he seated himself beside her, thus
+definitely putting a seal upon her social position.
+
+Peter, having learned his lecture by heart, having found out just
+what brought laughter and what brought tears and what brought
+patriotic applause, was now an assured success. After the lecture he
+answered questions, and two clerks in the employ of Billy Nash
+passed around membership cards of the "Improve America League,"
+membership dues five dollars a year, sustaining membership
+twenty-five dollars a year, life membership two hundred dollars
+cash. Peter was shaken hands with by members of the most exclusive
+social set in American City, and told by them all to keep it up--his
+country needed him. Next morning there was an account of his lecture
+in the "Times," and the morning after there was an editorial about
+his revelations, with the moral: "Join the Improve America League."
+
+
+
+
+Section 86
+
+
+That second morning, when Peter got to his office, he found a letter
+waiting for him, a letter written on very conspicuous and expensive
+stationery, and addressed in a woman's tall and sharp-pointed
+handwriting. Peter opened it and got a start, for at the top of the
+letter was some kind of crest, and a Latin inscription, and the
+words: "Society of the Daughters of the American Revolution." The
+letter informed him by the hand of a secretary that Mrs. Warring
+Sammye requested that Mr. Peter Gudge would be so good as to call
+upon her that afternoon at three o'clock. Peter studied the letter,
+and tried to figure out what kind of Red this was. He was impressed
+by the stationery and the regal tone, but that word "Revolution" was
+one of the forbidden words. Mrs. Warren Sammye must be one of the
+"Parlor Reds," like Mrs. Godd.
+
+So Peter took the letter to McGivney, and said suspiciously, "What
+kind of a Red plot is this?"
+
+McGivney read the letter, and said, "Red plot? How do you mean?"
+
+"Why," explained Peter, "it says `Daughters of the American
+Revolution.'"
+
+And McGivney looked at him; at first he thought that Peter was
+joking, but when he saw that the fellow was really in earnest, he
+guffawed in his face. "You boob!" he said. "Didn't you ever hear of
+the American Revolution? Don't you know anything about the Fourth of
+July?"
+
+Just then the telephone rang and interrupted them, and McGivney
+shoved the letter to him saying, "Ask your wife about it!" So when
+Gladys came in, Peter gave her the letter, and she was much excited.
+It appeared that Mrs. Warring Sammye was a very tip-top society lady
+in American City, and this American Revolution of which she was a
+daughter was a perfectly respectable revolution that had happened a
+long time ago; the very best people belonged to it, and it was legal
+and proper to write about, and even to put on your letterheads.
+Peter must go home and get himself into his best clothes at once,
+and telephone to the secretary that he would be pleased to call upon
+Mrs. Warring Sammye at the hour indicated. Incidentally, there were
+a few more things for Peter to study. He must get a copy of the
+social register, "Who's Who in American City," and he must get a
+history of his country, and learn about the Declaration of
+Independence, and what was the difference between a revolution that
+had happened a long time ago and one that was happening now.
+
+So Peter went to call on the great society lady in her grey stone
+mansion, and found her every bit as opulent as Mrs. Godd, with the
+addition that she respected her own social position; she did not
+make the mistake of treating Peter as an equal, and so it did not
+occur to Peter that he might settle down permanently in her home.
+Her purpose was to tell Peter that she had heard of his lecture
+about the Red menace, and that she was chairman of the Board of
+Directors of the Lady Patronesses of the Home for Disabled War
+Veterans in American City, and she wanted to arrange to have Peter
+deliver this lecture to the veterans. And Peter, instructed in
+advance by Gladys, said that he would be very glad to donate this
+lecture as a patriotic contribution. Mrs. Warring Sammye thanked him
+gravely in the name of his country, and said she would let him know
+the date.
+
+Peter went home, and Gladys made a wry face, because the lecture was
+to be delivered before a lot of good-for-nothing soldiers in some
+hall, when it had been her hope that it was to be delivered to the
+Daughters themselves, and in Mrs. Warring Sammye's home. However, to
+have attracted Mrs. Warring Sammye's attention for anything was in
+itself a triumph. So Gladys was soon cheerful again, and she told
+Peter about Mrs. Warring Sammye's life; one picked up such valuable
+knowledge in the gossip at the manicure parlors, it appeared.
+
+Then, being in a friendly mood, Gladys talked to Peter about
+himself. They had mounted to a height from which they could look
+back upon the past and see it as a whole, and in the intimacy and
+confidence of their domestic partnership they could draw lessons
+from their mistakes and plan their future wisely. Peter had made
+many blunders--he must surely admit that. Did Peter admit that? Yes,
+Peter did. But, continued Gladys, he had struggled bravely, and he
+had the supreme good fortune to have secured for himself that
+greatest of life's blessings, the cooperation of a good and capable
+woman. Gladys was very emphatic about this latter, and Peter agreed
+with her. He agreed also when she stated that it is the duty of a
+good and capable wife to protect her husband for the balance of
+their life's journey, so that he would be able to avoid the traps
+which his enemies set for his feet. Peter, having learned by bitter
+experience, would never again go chasing after a pretty face, and
+wake up next morning to find his pockets empty. Peter admitted this
+too. As this conversation progressed, he realized that the tour of
+triumph his life had become was a thing entirely of his wife's
+creation; at least, he realized that there would be no use in trying
+to change his wife's conviction on the subject. Likewise he meekly
+accepted her prophecies as to his future conduct; he would bring
+home his salary at the end of each week, and his wife would use it,
+together with her own salary, to improve the appearance and tone of
+both of them, and to aid them to climb to a higher social position.
+
+Peter, following his wife's careful instructions, has already become
+more dignified in his speech, more grave in his movements. She tells
+him that the future of society depends on his knowledge and his
+skill, and he agrees to this also. He has learned what you can do
+and what you had better not do; he will never again cross the
+dead-line into crime, or take chances with experiments in blackmail.
+He will try no more free lance work under the evil influence of low
+creatures like Nell Doolin, but will stand in with the "machine,"
+and bear in mind that honesty is the best policy. So he will
+steadily progress; he will meet the big men of the country, and will
+go to them, not cringing and twisting his hat in his hands, but
+with quiet self-possession. He will meet the agents of the
+Attorney-General aspiring to become President, and will furnish them
+with material for their weekly Red scares. He will meet legislators
+who want to unseat elected Socialists, and governors who wish to
+jail the leaders of "outlaw" strikes. He will meet magazine writers
+getting up articles, and popular novelists looking for local Red
+color.
+
+But Peter's best bid of all will be as a lecturer. He will be able
+to travel all over the country, making a sensation. Did he know why?
+No, Peter answered, he was not sure he did. Well, Gladys could tell
+him; it was because he was romantic. Peter didn't know just what
+this word meant, but it sounded flattering, so he smiled sheepishly,
+showing his crooked teeth, and asked how Gladys found out that he
+was romantic. The reply was a sudden order for him to stand up and
+turn around slowly.
+
+Peter didn't like to get up from his comfortable Morris chair, but
+he did what his wife asked him. She inspected him on all sides and
+exclaimed, "Peter, you must go on a diet; you're getting
+ombongpoing!" She said this in horrified tones, and Peter was
+frightened, because it sounded like a disease. But Gladys added:
+"You can not be a romantic figure on a lecture platform if you've
+got a bay-window!"
+
+Peter found it interesting to be talked about, so he asked again why
+Gladys thought he was romantic. There were several reasons, she
+said, but the main one was that he had been a dangerous criminal,
+and had reformed, which pleased the church people; he had made a
+happy ending by marriage, which pleased those who read novels.
+
+"Is that so?" said Peter, guilelessly, and she assured him that it
+was. "And what else?" he asked, and she explained that he had known
+intimately and at first hand those dreadful and dangerous people,
+those ogres of the modern world, the Bolsheviks, about whom the
+average man and woman learned only thru the newspapers. And not
+merely did he tell a sensational story, but he ended it with a
+money-making lesson. The lesson was "Contribute to the Improve
+America League. Make out your checks to the Home and Fireside
+Association. The existence of your country depends upon your
+sustaining the Patriot's Defense Legion." So the fame of Peter's
+lecture would spread, and the Guffeys and Billy Nashes of every city
+and town in America would clamor for him to come, and when he came,
+the newspapers would publish his picture, and he and his wife would
+be welcomed by leaders of the best society. They would become social
+lions, and would see the homes of the rich, and gradually become one
+of the rich.
+
+Gladys looked her spouse over again, as they started to
+their sleeping apartment. Yes, he was undoubtedly putting on
+"ombongpoing"; he would have to take up golf. He was wearing a
+little American flag dangling from his watch chain, and she wondered
+if that wasn't a trifle crude. Gladys herself now wore a real
+diamond ring, and had learned to say "vahse" and "baahth." She
+yawned prettily as she took off her lovely brown "tailor-made," and
+reflected that such things come with ease and security.
+
+Both she and Peter now had these in full measure. They had lost all
+fear of ever finding themselves out of a job. They had come to
+understand that the Red menace is not to be so easily exterminated;
+it is a distemper that lurks in the blood of society, and breaks out
+every now and then in a new rash. Gladys had come to agree with the
+Reds to this extent, that so long as there is a class of the rich
+and prosperous, so long will there be social discontent, so long
+will there be some that make their living by agitating, denouncing
+and crying out for change. Society is like a garden; each year when
+you plant your vegetables there springs up also a crop of weeds, and
+you have to go down the rows and chop off the heads of these weeds.
+Gladys' husband is an expert gardener, he knows how to chop weeds,
+and he knows that society will never be able to dispense with his
+services. So long as gardening continues, Peter will be a head
+weedchopper, and a teacher of classes of young weedchoppers.
+
+Ah, it was fine to have married such a man! It was the reward a good
+woman received for helping her husband, making him into a good
+citizen, a patriot and an upholder of law and order: For always, of
+course, those who own the garden would see that their head
+weedchopper was taken care of, and had his share of the best that
+the garden produced. Gladys stood before her looking-glass, braiding
+her hair for the night, and thinking of the things she would ask
+from this garden. She and Peter had earned, and they would demand,
+the sweetest flowers, the most luscious fruits. Suddenly Gladys
+stretched wide her arms in an ecstasy of realization. "We're a
+Success, Peter! We're a Success! We'll have money and all the lovely
+things it will buy! Do you realize, Peter, what a hit you've made?"
+
+Peter saw her face of joy, but he was a tiny bit frightened and
+uncertain, because of this unusual sharing of the honors. So Gladys
+was impelled to affection, mingled with pity. She held out her arms
+to him. "Poor, dear Peter! He's had such a hard life! It was cruel
+he didn't have me sooner to help him!"
+
+And then Gladys reflected for a moment, and was moved to another
+outburst. "Just think, Peter, how wonderful it is to be an American!
+In America you can always rise if you do your duty! America is the
+land of the free! Your example of a poor boy's success ought to
+convince even the fool Reds that they're wrong--that any boy can
+rise if he works hard! Why, I've heard it said that in America the
+poorest boy can rise to be President! How would you like to be
+President, Peter?"
+
+Peter hesitated. He doubted if he was equal to that big a job, but
+he knew that it would not please Gladys for him to say so. He
+murmured, "Perhaps--some day--"
+
+"Anyhow, Peter," his wife continued, "I'm for this country! I'm an
+American!"
+
+And this time Peter didn't have to hesitate. "You bet!" he said, and
+added his favorite formula--"100%!"
+
+
+
+
+APPENDIX
+
+
+A little experimenting with the manuscript of "100%" has revealed to
+the writer that everybody has a series of questions they wish
+immediately to ask: How much of it is true? To what extent have the
+business men of America been compelled to take over the detection
+and prevention of radicalism? Have they, in putting down the Reds,
+been driven to such extreme measures as you have here shown?
+
+A few of the incidents in "100%" are fictional, for example the
+story of Nell Doolin and Nelse Ackerman; but everything that has
+social significance is truth, and has been made to conform to facts
+personally known to the writer or to his friends. Practically all
+the characters in "100%" are real persons. Peter Gudge is a real
+person, and has several times been to call upon the writer in the
+course of his professional activities; Guffey and McGivney are real
+persons, and so is Billy Nash, and so is Gladys Frisbie.
+
+To begin at the beginning: the "Goober case" parallels in its main
+outlines the case of Tom Mooney. If you wish to know about this
+case, send fifteen cents to the Mooney Defense Committee, Post
+Office Box 894, San Francisco, for the pamphlet, "Shall Mooney
+Hang," by Robert Minor. The business men of San Francisco raised a
+million dollars to save the city from union labor, and the Mooney
+case was the way they did it. It happened, however, that the judge
+before whom Mooney was convicted weakened, and wrote to the
+Attorney-General of the State to the effect that he had become
+convinced that Mooney was convicted by perjured testimony. But
+meantime Mooney was in jail, and is there still. Fremont Older,
+editor of the San Francisco "Call," who has been conducting an
+investigation into this case, has recently written to the author:
+"Altogether, it is the most amazing story I have ever had anything
+to do with. When all is known that I think can be known, it will be
+shown clearly that the State before an open-eyed community was able
+to murder a man with the instruments that the people have provided
+for bringing about justice. There isn't a scrap of testimony in
+either of the Mooney or Billings cases that wasn't perjured, except
+that of the man who drew the blue prints of Market Street."
+
+To what extent has the detection and punishment of radicalism in
+America passed out of the hands of public authorities and into the
+hands of "Big Business?" Any business man will of course agree that
+when "Big Business" has interests to protect, it must and will
+protect them. So far as possible it will make use of the public
+authorities; but when thru corruption or fear of politics these
+fail, "Big Business" has to act for itself. In the Colorado coal
+strike the coal companies raised the money to pay the state militia,
+and recruited new companies of militia from their private
+detectives. The Reds called this "Government by Gunmen," and the
+writer in his muckraking days wrote a novel about it, "King Coal."
+The man who directed the militia during this coal strike was A. C.
+Felts of the Baldwin-Felts Detective Agency, who was killed just the
+other day while governing several coal counties in West Virginia.
+
+You will find this condition in the lumber country of Washington and
+Oregon, in the oil country of Oklahoma and Kansas, in the copper
+country of Michigan, Montana and Arizona, and in all the big coal
+districts. In the steel country of Western Pennsylvania you will
+find that all the local authorities are officials of the steel
+companies. If you go to Bristol, R. I., you will find that the
+National India Rubber Company has agreed to pay the salaries of
+two-thirds of the town's police force.
+
+In every large city in America the employers' associations have
+raised funds to hold down the unions and smash the Reds, and these
+funds are being expended in the way portrayed in "100%." In Los
+Angeles the employers' association raised a million dollars, and the
+result was the case of Sydney R. Flowers, briefly sketched in this
+story under the name of "Sydney." The reader who wishes the details
+of this case is referred to Chapter LXVI of "The Brass Cheek."
+Flowers has been twice tried, and is about to be tried a third time,
+and our District-Attorney is quoted as saying that he will be tried
+half a dozen times if necessary. At the last trial there were
+produced a total of twenty-five witnesses against Flowers, and out
+of these nineteen were either Peter Gudges and McGivneys, or else
+police detectives, or else employees of the local political machine.
+A deputy United States attorney, talking to me about the case, told
+me that he had refused to prosecute it because he realized that the
+"Paul letter," upon which the arrest had been based, was a frame-up,
+and that he was quite sure he knew who had written it. He also told
+me that there had been formed in Los Angeles a secret committee of
+fifty of the most active rich men of the town; that he could not
+find out what they were doing, but they came to his offices and
+demanded the secret records of the government; and that when he
+refused to prosecute Flowers they had influence enough to have the
+governor of California telegraph to Washington in protest.
+Questioned on the witness stand, I repeated these statements, and
+the deputy United States attorney was called to the stand and
+attributed them to my "literary imagination."
+
+In the old Russian and Austrian empires the technique of trapping
+agitators was well developed, and the use of spies and "under cover"
+men for the purpose of luring the Reds into crime was completely
+worked out. We have no English equivalent for the phrase "agent
+provocateur," but in the last four years we have put thousands of
+them at work in America. In the case against Flowers three witnesses
+were produced who had been active among the I. W. Ws., trying to
+incite crime, and were being paid to give testimony for the state.
+One of these men admitted that he had himself burned some forty
+barns, and was now receiving three hundred dollars a month and
+expenses. At the trial of William Bross Lloyd in Chicago, charged
+with membership in the Communist party, a similar witness was
+produced. Santeri Nourteva, of, the Soviet Bureau in New York, has
+charged that Louis C. Fraina, editor of the "Revolutionary Age," was
+a government agent, and Fraina wrote into the platform of the
+Communist party the planks which were used in prosecuting and
+deporting its members. On December 27, 1919, the chief of the Bureau
+of Investigation of the Department of Justice in Washington sent to
+the head of his local bureau in Boston a telegram containing the
+following sentences: "You should arrange with your under cover
+informants to have meetings of the Communist Party and Communist
+Labor Party held on the night set. I have been informed by some of
+the bureau officers that such arrangements will be made." So much
+evidence of the activity of the provocateur was produced before
+Federal Judge G. W. Anderson that he declared as follows: "What does
+appear beyond reasonable dispute is that the Government owns and
+operates some part of the Communist Party."
+
+It appears that Judge Anderson does not share the high opinion of
+the "under cover" operative set forth by the writer of "100%." Says
+Judge Anderson: "I cannot adopt the contention that Government spies
+are any more trustworthy, or less disposed to make trouble in order
+to profit therefrom, than are spies in private industry. Except in
+time of war, when a Nathan Hale may be a spy, spies are always
+necessarily drawn from the unwholesome and untrustworthy classes. A
+right-minded man refuses such a job. The evil wrought by the spy
+system in industry has, for decades, been incalculable. Until it is
+eliminated, decent human relations cannot exist between employers
+and employees, or even among employees. It destroys trust and
+confidence; it kills human kindliness; it propagates hate."
+
+To what extent have the governmental authorities of America been
+forced to deny to the Reds the civil rights guaranteed to good
+Americans by the laws and the constitution? The reader who is
+curious on this point may send the sum of twenty-five cents to the
+American Civil Liberties Union, 138 West 13th Street, New York, for
+the pamphlet entitled, "Report upon the Illegal Practices of the
+United States Department of Justice," signed by twelve eminent
+lawyers in the country, including a dean of the Harvard Law school,
+and a United States attorney who resigned because of his
+old-fashioned ideas of law. This pamphlet contains sixty-seven
+pages, with numerous exhibits and photographs. The practices set
+forth are listed under six heads: Cruel and unusual punishments;
+arrests without warrant; unreasonable searches and seizures;
+provocative agents; compelling persons to be witnesses against
+themselves; propaganda by the Department of Justice. The reader may
+also ask for the pamphlet entitled "Memorandum Regarding the
+Persecution of the Radical Labor Movement in the United States;"
+also for the pamphlet entitled "War Time Prosecution and Mob
+Violence," dated March, 1919, giving a list of cases which occupies
+forty pages of closely printed type. Also he might read "The Case of
+the Rand School," published by the Rand School of Social Science, 7
+East Fifteenth Street, New York, and the pamphlets published by the
+National Office of the Socialist Party, 220 South Ashland Blvd.,
+Chicago, dealing with the prosecutions of that organization.
+
+To what extent has it been necessary to torture the Reds in prison
+in America? Those who are interested are advised to write to Harry
+Weinberger, 32 Union Square, New York, for the pamphlet entitled
+"Twenty Years Prison," dealing with the case of Mollie Steimer, and
+three others who were sentenced for distributing a leaflet
+protesting against the war on Russia; also to the American Civil
+Liberties Union for the pamphlet entitled "Political Prisoners in
+Federal Military Prisons," also the pamphlet, "Uncle Sam: Jailer,"
+by Winthrop D. Lane, reprinted from the "Survey;" also the pamphlet
+entitled "The Soviet of Deer Island, Boston Harbor," published by
+the Boston Branch of the American Civil Liberties Union; also for
+the publications of the American Industrial Company, and the
+American Freedom Foundation, 166 West Washington St., Chicago.
+
+There may be some reader with a sense of humor who asks about the
+brother of a United States senator being arrested for reading a
+paragraph from the Declaration of Independence. This gentleman was
+the brother of United States Senator France of Maryland, and
+curiously enough, the arrest took place in the city of Philadelphia,
+where the Declaration of Independence was adopted. There may be some
+reader who is curious about a clergyman being indicted and arrested
+in Winnipeg for having quoted the prophet Isaiah. The paragraph from
+the indictment in question reads as follows: "That J. S. Woodsworth,
+on or about the month of June, in the year of our Lord one thousand
+nine hundred and nineteen, at the City of Winnipeg, in the Province
+of Manitoba, unlawfully and seditiously published seditious libels
+in the words and figures following: `Woe unto them that decree
+unrighteous decrees, and that write grievousness which they have
+prescribed; to turn aside the needy from judgment, and to take away
+their right from the poor of my people that widows may be their prey
+and that they may rob the fatherless. . . . And they shall build
+houses and inhabit them, and they shall plant vineyards and eat the
+fruit of them. They shall not build and another inhabit, they shall
+not plant and another eat; for as the days of a tree are the days of
+my people, and mine elect shall long enjoy the work of their hands.'"
+
+There has been reference in this book to the Centralia case. No one
+can consider that he understands the technique of holding down the
+Reds until he has studied this case, and therefore every friend of
+"Big Business" should send fifty cents, either to the I. W. W.
+Headquarters, 1001 West Madison Street, Chicago, or to the
+"Liberator," New York, or to the "Appeal to Reason," Girard, Kansas,
+for the booklet, "The Centralia Conspiracy," by Ralph Chaplin, who
+attended the Centralia trial, and has collected all the details and
+presents them with photographs and documents. Many other stories
+about the I. W. W. have been told in the course of "100%." The
+reader will wish to know, are these men really so dangerous, and
+have the business men of America been driven to treat them as here
+described. The reader may again address the I. W. W. National
+Headquarters for a four-page leaflet with the quaint title, "With
+Drops of Blood the History of the Industrial Workers of the World
+has Been Written." Despite the fact that it is a bare record of
+cases, there are many men serving long terms in prison in the United
+States for the offense of having in their possession a copy of this
+leaflet, "With Drops of Blood." But the readers of this book, being
+all of them 100% Americans engaged in learning the technique of
+smashing the Reds, will, I feel sure, not be interfered with by the
+business men. Also I trust that the business men will not object to
+my reprinting a few paragraphs from the leaflet, in order to make
+the public realize how dangerously these Reds can write. I will, of
+course, not follow their incendiary example and spatter my page with
+big drops of imitation blood. I quote:
+
+"We charge that I. W. W. members have been murdered, and mention
+here a few of those who have lost their lives:
+
+"Joseph Michalish was shot to death by a mob of so-called citizens.
+Michael Hoey was beaten to death in San Diego. Samuel Chinn was so
+brutally beaten in the county jail at Spokane, Washington, that he
+died from the injuries. Joseph Hillstrom was judicially murdered
+within the walls of the penitentiary at Salt Lake City, Utah. Anna
+Lopeza, a textile worker, was shot and killed, and two other Fellow
+Workers were murdered during the strike at Lawrence, Massachusetts.
+Frank Little, a cripple, was lynched by hirelings of the Copper
+Trust at Butte, Montana. John Looney, A. Robinowitz, Hugo Gerlot,
+Gustav Johnson, Felix Baron, and others were killed by a mob of
+Lumber Trust gunmen on the Steamer Verona at the dock at Everett,
+Washington. J. A. Kelly was arrested and re-arrested at Seattle,
+Washington; finally died from the effects of the frightful treatment
+he received. Four members of the I. W. W. were killed at Grabow,
+Louisiana, where thirty were shot and seriously wounded. Two members
+were dragged to death behind an automobile at Ketchikan, Alaska.
+
+"These are but a few of the many who have given up their lives on
+the altar of Greed, sacrificed in the ages-long struggle for
+Industrial Freedom.
+
+"We charge that many thousands of members of this organization have
+been imprisoned, on most occasions arrested without warrant and held
+without charge. To verify this statement it is but necessary that
+you read the report of the Commission on Industrial Relations
+wherein is given testimony of those who know of conditions at
+Lawrence, Massachusetts, where nearly 900 men and women were thrown
+into prison during the Textile Workers' Strike at that place. This
+same report recites the fact that during the Silk Workers' Strike at
+Paterson, New Jersey, nearly 1,900 men and women were cast into jail
+without charge or reason. Throughout the northwest these kinds of
+outrages have been continually perpetrated against members of the I.
+W. W. County jails and city prisons in nearly every state in the
+Union have held or are holding members of this organization.
+
+"We charge that members of the I. W. W. have been tarred and
+feathered. Frank H. Meyers was tarred and feathered by a gang of
+prominent citizens at North Yakima, Washington. D. S. Dietz was
+tarred and feathered by a mob led by representatives of the Lumber
+Trust at Sedro, Wooley, Washington. John L. Metzen, attorney for the
+Industrial Workers of the World, was tarred and feathered and
+severely beaten by a mob of citizens of Staunton, Illinois. At
+Tulsa, Oklahoma, a mob of bankers and other business men gathered up
+seventeen members of the I. W. W., loaded them in automobiles,
+carried them out of town to a patch of woods, and there tarred and
+feathered and beat them with rope.
+
+"We charge that members of the Industrial Workers of the World have
+been deported, and cite the cases of Bisbee, Arizona, where 1,164
+miners, many of them members of the I. W. W., and their friends,
+were dragged out of their homes, loaded upon box cars, and sent out
+of the camp. They were confined for months at Columbus, New Mexico.
+Many cases are now pending against the copper companies and business
+men of Bisbee. A large number of members were deported from Jerome,
+Arizona. Seven members of the I. W. W. were deported from Florence,
+Oregon, and were lost for days in the woods, Tom Lassiter, a
+crippled news vender, was taken out in the middle of the night and
+badly beaten by a mob for selling the Liberator and other radical
+papers.
+
+"We charge that members of the I. W. W. have been cruelly and
+inhumanly beaten. Hundreds of members can show scars upon their
+lacerated bodies that were inflicted upon them when they were
+compelled to run the gauntlet. Joe Marko and many others were
+treated in this fashion at San Diego, California. James Rowan was
+nearly beaten to death at Everett, Washington. At Lawrence,
+Massachusetts, the thugs of the Textile Trust beat men and women who
+had been forced to go on strike to get a little more of the good
+things of life. The shock and cruel whipping which they gave one
+little Italian woman caused her to give premature birth to a child.
+At Red Lodge, Montana, a member's home was invaded and he was hung
+by the neck before his screaming wife and children. At Franklin, New
+Jersey, August 29, 1917, John Avila, an I. W. W., was taken in broad
+daylight by the chief of police and an auto-load of business men to
+a woods near the town and there hung to a tree. He was cut down
+before death ensued, and badly beaten. It was five hours before
+Avila regained consciousness, after which the town 'judge' sentenced
+him to three months at hard labor.
+
+"We charge that members of the I. W. W. have been starved. This
+statement can be verified by the conditions existing in most any
+county jail where members of the I. W. W. are confined. A very
+recent instance is at Topeka, Kansas, where members were compelled
+to go on a hunger strike as a means of securing food for themselves
+that would sustain life. Members have been forced to resort to the
+hunger strike as a means of getting better food in many places. You
+are requested to read the story written by Winthrop D. Lane, which
+appears in the Sept. 6, 1919, number of `The Survey.' This story is
+a graphic description of the county jails in Kansas.
+
+"We charge that I. W. W. members have been denied the right of
+citizenship, and in each instance the judge frankly told the
+applicants that they were refused on account of membership in the
+Industrial Workers of the World, accompanying this with abusive
+remarks; members were denied their citizenship papers by judge
+Hanford at Seattle, Washington, and judge Paul O'Boyle at Scranton,
+Pennsylvania.
+
+"We charge that members of the I. W. W. have been denied the
+privilege of defense. This being an organization of working men who
+had little or no funds of their own, it was necessary to appeal to
+the membership and the working class generally for funds to provide
+a proper defense. The postal authorities, acting under orders from
+the Postmaster-General at Washington, D. C., have deliberately
+prevented the transportation of our appeals, our subscription lists,
+our newspapers. These have been piled up in the postoffices and we
+have never received a return of the stamps affixed for mailing.
+
+"We charge that the members of the I. W. W. have been held in
+exorbitant bail. As an instance there is the case of Pietro Pierre
+held in the county jail at Topeka, Kansas. His bond was fixed at
+$5,000, and when the amount was tendered it was immediately raised
+to $10,000. This is only one of the many instances that could be
+recorded.
+
+"We charge that members of the I. W. W. have been compelled to
+submit to involuntary servitude. This does not refer to members
+confined in the penitentiaries, but would recall the reader's
+attention to an I. W. W. member under arrest in Birmingham, Alabama,
+taken from the prison and placed on exhibition at a fair given in
+that city where admission of twenty-five cents was charged to see
+the I. W. W."
+
+Finally, for the benefit of the reader who asks how it happens that
+such incidents are not more generally known to the public, I will
+reprint the following, from pages 382-383 of "The Brass Check,"
+dealing with the "New York Times," and its treatment of the writer's
+novel, "Jimmie Higgins":
+
+"In the last chapters of this story an American soldier is
+represented as being tortured in an American military prison. Says
+the `Times':
+
+"`Mr. Sinclair should produce the evidence upon which he bases his
+astounding accusations, if he has any. If he has simply written on
+hearsay evidence, or, worse still, let himself be guided by his
+craving to be sensational, he has laid himself open not only to
+censure but to punishment.'
+
+"In reply to this, I send to the `Times' a perfectly respectful
+letter, citing scores of cases, and telling the `Times' where
+hundreds of other cases may be found. The `Times' returns this
+letter without comment. A couple of months pass, and as a result of
+the ceaseless agitation of the radicals, there is a congressional
+investigation, and evidence of atrocious cruelties is forced into
+the newspapers. The `Times' publishes an editorial entitled, `Prison
+Camp Cruelties,' the first sentence of which reads: `The fact that
+American soldiers confined in prison-camps have been treated with
+extreme brutality may now be regarded as established.' So again I
+write a polite letter to the `Times,' pointing out that I think they
+owe me an apology. And how does the `Times' treat that? It alters my
+letter without my permission. It cuts out my request for an apology,
+and also my quotation of its own words calling for my punishment!
+The `Times,' caught in a hole, refuses to let me remind its readers
+that it wanted me `punished' for telling the truth! `All the News
+that's Fit to Print!'"
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+End of Project Gutenberg's 100%: The Story of a Patriot, by Upton Sinclair
+
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+</style>
+</head>
+<body>
+
+
+<pre>
+
+Project Gutenberg's 100%: The Story of a Patriot, by Upton Sinclair
+
+This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with
+almost no restrictions whatsoever.  You may copy it, give it away or
+re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included
+with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org
+
+
+Title: 100%: The Story of a Patriot
+
+Author: Upton Sinclair
+
+
+Release Date: May, 2004 [EBook #5776]
+This file was first posted on September 1, 2002
+Last Updated: October 13, 2016
+
+Language: English
+
+Character set encoding: UTF-8
+
+*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 100%: THE STORY OF A PATRIOT ***
+
+
+
+
+Text file produced by Charles Aldarondo
+
+HTML file produced by David Widger
+
+
+
+</pre>
+
+<div style="height: 8em;">
+<br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br />
+</div>
+<h1>
+100%: THE STORY OF A PATRIOT
+</h1>
+<h2>
+By Upton Sinclair
+</h2>
+<h4>
+Published By The Author <br /> <br /> Pasadena, California <br /> <br /> 1920
+</h4>
+<p>
+<b>TO MY WIFE</b>
+</p>
+<p>
+Who is the creator of the most charming character in this story, &ldquo;Mrs.
+Godd,&rdquo; and who positively refuses to permit the book to go to press until
+it has been explained that the character is a Grecian Godd and not a
+Hebrew Godd, so that no one may accuse the creator of sacrilege.
+</p>
+<p>
+<br /><br />
+</p>
+<hr />
+<p>
+<br /><br />
+</p>
+<p>
+<b>CONTENTS</b>
+</p>
+<p class="toc">
+<a href="#link2H_4_0001"> Section 1 </a>
+</p>
+<p class="toc">
+<a href="#link2H_4_0002"> Section 2 </a>
+</p>
+<p class="toc">
+<a href="#link2H_4_0003"> Section 3 </a>
+</p>
+<p class="toc">
+<a href="#link2H_4_0004"> Section 4 </a>
+</p>
+<p class="toc">
+<a href="#link2H_4_0005"> Section 5 </a>
+</p>
+<p class="toc">
+<a href="#link2H_4_0006"> Section 6 </a>
+</p>
+<p class="toc">
+<a href="#link2H_4_0007"> Section 7 </a>
+</p>
+<p class="toc">
+<a href="#link2H_4_0008"> Section 8 </a>
+</p>
+<p class="toc">
+<a href="#link2H_4_0009"> Section 9 </a>
+</p>
+<p class="toc">
+<a href="#link2H_4_0010"> Section 10 </a>
+</p>
+<p class="toc">
+<a href="#link2H_4_0011"> Section 11 </a>
+</p>
+<p class="toc">
+<a href="#link2H_4_0012"> Section 12 </a>
+</p>
+<p class="toc">
+<a href="#link2H_4_0013"> Section 13 </a>
+</p>
+<p class="toc">
+<a href="#link2H_4_0014"> Section 14 </a>
+</p>
+<p class="toc">
+<a href="#link2H_4_0015"> Section 15 </a>
+</p>
+<p class="toc">
+<a href="#link2H_4_0016"> Section 16 </a>
+</p>
+<p class="toc">
+<a href="#link2H_4_0017"> Section 17 </a>
+</p>
+<p class="toc">
+<a href="#link2H_4_0018"> Section 18 </a>
+</p>
+<p class="toc">
+<a href="#link2H_4_0019"> Section 19 </a>
+</p>
+<p class="toc">
+<a href="#link2H_4_0020"> Section 20 </a>
+</p>
+<p class="toc">
+<a href="#link2H_4_0021"> Section 21 </a>
+</p>
+<p class="toc">
+<a href="#link2H_4_0022"> Section 22 </a>
+</p>
+<p class="toc">
+<a href="#link2H_4_0023"> Section 23 </a>
+</p>
+<p class="toc">
+<a href="#link2H_4_0024"> Section 24 </a>
+</p>
+<p class="toc">
+<a href="#link2H_4_0025"> Section 25 </a>
+</p>
+<p class="toc">
+<a href="#link2H_4_0026"> Section 26 </a>
+</p>
+<p class="toc">
+<a href="#link2H_4_0027"> Section 27 </a>
+</p>
+<p class="toc">
+<a href="#link2H_4_0028"> Section 28 </a>
+</p>
+<p class="toc">
+<a href="#link2H_4_0029"> Section 29 </a>
+</p>
+<p class="toc">
+<a href="#link2H_4_0030"> Section 30 </a>
+</p>
+<p class="toc">
+<a href="#link2H_4_0031"> Section 31 </a>
+</p>
+<p class="toc">
+<a href="#link2H_4_0032"> Section 32 </a>
+</p>
+<p class="toc">
+<a href="#link2H_4_0033"> Section 33 </a>
+</p>
+<p class="toc">
+<a href="#link2H_4_0034"> Section 34 </a>
+</p>
+<p class="toc">
+<a href="#link2H_4_0035"> Section 35 </a>
+</p>
+<p class="toc">
+<a href="#link2H_4_0036"> Section 36 </a>
+</p>
+<p class="toc">
+<a href="#link2H_4_0037"> Section 37 </a>
+</p>
+<p class="toc">
+<a href="#link2H_4_0038"> Section 38 </a>
+</p>
+<p class="toc">
+<a href="#link2H_4_0039"> Section 39 </a>
+</p>
+<p class="toc">
+<a href="#link2H_4_0040"> Section 40 </a>
+</p>
+<p class="toc">
+<a href="#link2H_4_0041"> Section 41 </a>
+</p>
+<p class="toc">
+<a href="#link2H_4_0042"> Section 42 </a>
+</p>
+<p class="toc">
+<a href="#link2H_4_0043"> Section 43 </a>
+</p>
+<p class="toc">
+<a href="#link2H_4_0044"> Section 44 </a>
+</p>
+<p class="toc">
+<a href="#link2H_4_0045"> Section 45 </a>
+</p>
+<p class="toc">
+<a href="#link2H_4_0046"> Section 46 </a>
+</p>
+<p class="toc">
+<a href="#link2H_4_0047"> Section 47 </a>
+</p>
+<p class="toc">
+<a href="#link2H_4_0048"> Section 48 </a>
+</p>
+<p class="toc">
+<a href="#link2H_4_0049"> Section 49 </a>
+</p>
+<p class="toc">
+<a href="#link2H_4_0050"> Section 50 </a>
+</p>
+<p class="toc">
+<a href="#link2H_4_0051"> Section 51 </a>
+</p>
+<p class="toc">
+<a href="#link2H_4_0052"> Section 52 </a>
+</p>
+<p class="toc">
+<a href="#link2H_4_0053"> Section 53 </a>
+</p>
+<p class="toc">
+<a href="#link2H_4_0054"> Section 54 </a>
+</p>
+<p class="toc">
+<a href="#link2H_4_0055"> Section 55 </a>
+</p>
+<p class="toc">
+<a href="#link2H_4_0056"> Section 56 </a>
+</p>
+<p class="toc">
+<a href="#link2H_4_0057"> Section 57 </a>
+</p>
+<p class="toc">
+<a href="#link2H_4_0058"> Section 58 </a>
+</p>
+<p class="toc">
+<a href="#link2H_4_0059"> Section 59 </a>
+</p>
+<p class="toc">
+<a href="#link2H_4_0060"> Section 60 </a>
+</p>
+<p class="toc">
+<a href="#link2H_4_0061"> Section 61 </a>
+</p>
+<p class="toc">
+<a href="#link2H_4_0062"> Section 62 </a>
+</p>
+<p class="toc">
+<a href="#link2H_4_0063"> Section 63 </a>
+</p>
+<p class="toc">
+<a href="#link2H_4_0064"> Section 64 </a>
+</p>
+<p class="toc">
+<a href="#link2H_4_0065"> Section 65 </a>
+</p>
+<p class="toc">
+<a href="#link2H_4_0066"> Section 66 </a>
+</p>
+<p class="toc">
+<a href="#link2H_4_0067"> Section 67 </a>
+</p>
+<p class="toc">
+<a href="#link2H_4_0068"> Section 68 </a>
+</p>
+<p class="toc">
+<a href="#link2H_4_0069"> Section 69 </a>
+</p>
+<p class="toc">
+<a href="#link2H_4_0070"> Section 70 </a>
+</p>
+<p class="toc">
+<a href="#link2H_4_0071"> Section 71 </a>
+</p>
+<p class="toc">
+<a href="#link2H_4_0072"> Section 72 </a>
+</p>
+<p class="toc">
+<a href="#link2H_4_0073"> Section 73 </a>
+</p>
+<p class="toc">
+<a href="#link2H_4_0074"> Section 74 </a>
+</p>
+<p class="toc">
+<a href="#link2H_4_0075"> Section 75 </a>
+</p>
+<p class="toc">
+<a href="#link2H_4_0076"> Section 76 </a>
+</p>
+<p class="toc">
+<a href="#link2H_4_0077"> Section 77 </a>
+</p>
+<p class="toc">
+<a href="#link2H_4_0078"> Section 78 </a>
+</p>
+<p class="toc">
+<a href="#link2H_4_0079"> Section 79 </a>
+</p>
+<p class="toc">
+<a href="#link2H_4_0080"> Section 80 </a>
+</p>
+<p class="toc">
+<a href="#link2H_4_0081"> Section 81 </a>
+</p>
+<p class="toc">
+<a href="#link2H_4_0082"> Section 82 </a>
+</p>
+<p class="toc">
+<a href="#link2H_4_0083"> Section 83 </a>
+</p>
+<p class="toc">
+<a href="#link2H_4_0084"> Section 84 </a>
+</p>
+<p class="toc">
+<a href="#link2H_4_0085"> Section 85 </a>
+</p>
+<p class="toc">
+<a href="#link2H_4_0086"> Section 86 </a>
+</p>
+<p class="toc">
+<a href="#link2H_APPE"> APPENDIX </a>
+</p>
+<p>
+<br /><br />
+</p>
+<hr />
+<p>
+<a name="link2H_4_0001" id="link2H_4_0001"> </a>
+</p>
+<div style="height: 4em;">
+<br /><br /><br /><br />
+</div>
+<h2>
+Section 1
+</h2>
+<p>
+Now and then it occurs to one to reflect upon what slender threads of
+accident depend the most important circumstances of his life; to look back
+and shudder, realizing how close to the edge of nothingness his being has
+come. A young man is walking down the street, quite casually, with an
+empty mind and no set purpose; he comes to a crossing, and for no reason
+that he could tell he takes the right hand turn instead of the left; and
+so it happens that he encounters a blue-eyed girl, who sets his heart to
+beating. He meets the girl, marries her&mdash;and she became your mother.
+But now, suppose the young man had taken the left hand turn instead of the
+right, and had never met the blue-eyed girl; where would you be now, and
+what would have become of those qualities of mind which you consider of
+importance to the world, and those grave affairs of business to which your
+time is devoted?
+</p>
+<p>
+Something like that it was which befell Peter Gudge; just such an
+accident, changing the whole current of his life, and making the series of
+events with which this story deals. Peter was walking down the street one
+afternoon, when a woman approached and held out to him a printed leaflet.
+&ldquo;Read this, please,&rdquo; she said.
+</p>
+<p>
+And Peter, who was hungry, and at odds with the world, answered gruffly:
+&ldquo;I got no money.&rdquo; He thought it was an advertising dodger, and he said: &ldquo;I
+can&rsquo;t buy nothin&rsquo;.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;It isn&rsquo;t anything for sale,&rdquo; answered the woman. &ldquo;It&rsquo;s a message.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Religion?&rdquo; said Peter. &ldquo;I just got kicked out of a church.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;No, not a church,&rdquo; said the woman. &ldquo;It&rsquo;s something different; put it in
+your pocket.&rdquo; She was an elderly woman with gray hair, and she followed
+along, smiling pleasantly at this frail, poor-looking stranger, but
+nagging at him. &ldquo;Read it some time when you&rsquo;ve nothing else to do.&rdquo; And so
+Peter, just to get rid of her, took the leaflet and thrust it into his
+pocket, and went on, and in a minute or two had forgotten all about it.
+</p>
+<p>
+Peter was thinking&mdash;or rather Peter&rsquo;s stomach was thinking for him;
+for when you have had nothing to eat all day, and nothing on the day
+before but a cup of coffee and one sandwich, your thought-centers are
+transferred from the top to the middle of you. Peter was thinking that
+this was a hell of a life. Who could have foreseen that just because he
+had stolen one miserable fried doughnut, he would lose his easy job and
+his chance of rising in the world? Peter&rsquo;s whole being was concentrated on
+the effort to rise in the world; to get success, which means money, which
+means ease and pleasure&mdash;the magic names which lure all human
+creatures.
+</p>
+<p>
+But who could have foreseen that Mrs. Smithers would have kept count of
+those fried doughnuts every time anybody passed thru her pantry? And it
+was only that one ridiculous circumstance which had brought Peter to his
+present misery. But for that he might have had his lunch of bread and
+dried herring and weak tea in the home of the shoe-maker&rsquo;s wife, and might
+have still been busy with his job of stirring up dissension in the First
+Apostolic Church, otherwise known as the Holy Rollers, and of getting the
+Rev. Gamaliel Lunk turned out, and Shoemaker Smithers established at the
+job of pastor, with Peter Gudge as his right hand man.
+</p>
+<p>
+Always it had been like that, thru Peter&rsquo;s twenty years of life. Time
+after time he would get his feeble clutch fixed upon the ladder of
+prosperity, and then something would happen&mdash;some wretched thing like
+the stealing of a fried doughnut&mdash;to pry him loose and tumble him
+down again into the pit of misery.
+</p>
+<p>
+So Peter walked along, with his belt drawn tight, and his restless blue
+eyes wandering here and there, looking for a place to get a meal. There
+were jobs to be had, but they were hard jobs, and Peter wanted an easy
+one. There are people in this world who live by their muscles, and others
+who live by their wits; Peter belonged to the latter class; and had missed
+many a meal rather than descend in the social scale.
+</p>
+<p>
+Peter looked into the faces of everyone he passed, searching for a
+possible opening. Some returned his glance, but never for more than a
+second, for they saw an insignificant looking man, undersized,
+undernourished, and with one shoulder higher than the other, a weak chin
+and mouth, crooked teeth, and a brown moustache too feeble to hold itself
+up at the corners. Peters&rsquo; straw hat had many straws missing, his
+second-hand brown suit was become third-hand, and his shoes were turning
+over at the sides. In a city where everybody was &ldquo;hustling,&rdquo; everybody, as
+they phrased it, &ldquo;on the make,&rdquo; why should anyone take a second glance at
+Peter Gudge? Why should anyone care about the restless soul hidden inside
+him, or dream that Peter was, in his own obscure way, a sort of genius? No
+one did care; no one did dream.
+</p>
+<p>
+It was about two o&rsquo;clock of an afternoon in July, and the sun beat down
+upon the streets of American City. There were crowds upon the streets, and
+Peter noticed that everywhere were flags and bunting. Once or twice he
+heard the strains of distant music, and wondered what was &ldquo;up.&rdquo; Peter had
+not been reading the newspapers; all his attention had been taken up by
+the quarrels of the Smithers faction and the Lunk faction in the First
+Apostolic Church, otherwise known as the Holy Rollers, and great events
+that had been happening in the world outside were of no concern to him.
+Peter knew vaguely that on the other side of the world half a dozen mighty
+nations were locked together in a grip of death; the whole earth was
+shaken with their struggles, and Peter had felt a bit of the trembling now
+and then. But Peter did not know that his own country had anything to do
+with this European quarrel, and did not know that certain great interests
+thruout the country had set themselves to rouse the public to action.
+</p>
+<p>
+This movement had reached American City, and the streets had broken out in
+a blaze of patriotic display. In all the windows of the stores there were
+signs: &ldquo;Wake up, America!&rdquo; Across the broad Main Street there were
+banners: &ldquo;America Prepare!&rdquo; Down in the square at one end of the street a
+small army was gathering&mdash;old veterans of the Civil War, and
+middle-aged veterans of the Spanish War, and regiments of the state
+militia, and brigades of marines and sailors from the ships in the harbor,
+and members of fraternal lodges with their Lord High Chief Grand Marshals
+on horseback with gold sashes and waving white plumes, and all the
+notables of the city in carriages, and a score of bands to stir their feet
+and ten thousand flags waving above their heads. &ldquo;Wake up America!&rdquo; And
+here was Peter Gudge, with an empty stomach, coming suddenly upon the
+swarming crowds in Main Street, and having no remotest idea what it was
+all about.
+</p>
+<p>
+A crowd suggested one thing to Peter. For seven years of his young life he
+had been assistant to Pericles Priam, and had traveled over America
+selling Priam&rsquo;s Peerless Pain Paralyzer; they had ridden in an automobile,
+and wherever there was a fair or a convention or an excursion or a picnic,
+they were on hand, and Pericles Priam would stop at a place where the
+crowds were thickest, and ring a dinner bell, and deliver his
+super-eloquent message to humanity&mdash;the elixir of life revealed,
+suffering banished from the earth, and all inconveniences of this mortal
+state brought to an end for one dollar per bottle of fifteen per cent
+opium. It had been Peter&rsquo;s job to handle the bottles and take in the coin;
+and so now, when he saw the crowd, he looked about him eagerly. Perhaps
+there might be here some vender of corn-plasters or ink-stain removers, or
+some three card monte man to whom Peter could attach himself for the price
+of a sandwich.
+</p>
+<p>
+Peter wormed his way thru the crowd for two or three blocks, but saw
+nothing more promising than venders of American flags on little sticks,
+and of patriotic buttons with &ldquo;Wake up America!&rdquo; But then, on the other
+side of the street at one of the crossings Peter saw a man standing on a
+truck making a speech, and he dug his way thru the crowd, elbowing,
+sliding this way and that, begging everybody&rsquo;s pardon&mdash;until at last
+he was out of the crowd, and standing in the open way which had been
+cleared for the procession, a seemingly endless road lined with solid
+walls of human beings, with blue-uniformed policemen holding them back.
+Peter started to run across&mdash;and at that same instant came the end of
+the world.
+</p>
+<p>
+<br /><br />
+</p>
+<hr />
+<p>
+<a name="link2H_4_0002" id="link2H_4_0002"> </a>
+</p>
+<div style="height: 4em;">
+<br /><br /><br /><br />
+</div>
+<h2>
+Section 2
+</h2>
+<p>
+One who seeks to tell about events in words comes occasionally upon a
+fundamental difficulty. An event of colossal and overwhelming significance
+may happen all at once, but the words which describe it have to come one
+by one in a long chain. The event may reveal itself without a moment&rsquo;s
+warning; but if one is to give a sense of it in words, one must prepare
+for it, build up to it, awaken anticipation, establish a climax. If the
+description of this event which fate sprung upon Peter Gudge as he was
+crossing the street were limited to the one word &ldquo;BANG&rdquo; in letters a
+couple of inches high across the page, the impression would hardly be
+adequate.
+</p>
+<p>
+The end of the world, it seemed to Peter, when he was able to collect
+enough of his terrified wits to think about it. But at first there was no
+thinking; there was only sensation&mdash;a terrific roar, as if the whole
+universe had suddenly turned to sound; a blinding white glare, as of all
+the lightnings of the heavens; a blow that picked him up as if he had been
+a piece of thistledown, and flung him across the street and against the
+side of a building. Peter fell upon the sidewalk in a heap, deafened,
+blinded, stunned; and there he lay&mdash;he had no idea how long-until
+gradually his senses began to return to him, and from the confusion
+certain factors began to stand out: a faint gray smoke that seemed to lie
+upon the ground, a bitter odor that stung the nostrils and tongue, and
+screams of people, moaning and sobbing and general uproar. Something lay
+across Peter&rsquo;s chest, and he felt that he was suffocating, and struggled
+convulsively to push it away; the hands with which he pushed felt
+something hot and wet and slimy, and the horrified Peter realized that it
+was half the body of a mangled human being.
+</p>
+<p>
+Yes, it was the end of the world. Only a couple of days previously Peter
+Gudge had been a devout member of the First Apostolic Church, otherwise
+known as the Holy Rollers, and had listened at prayer-meetings to
+soul-shaking imaginings out of the Book of Revelations. So Peter knew that
+this was it; and having many sins upon his conscience, and being in no way
+eager to confront his God, he looked out over the bodies of the dead and
+the writhing wounded, and saw a row of boxes standing against the
+building, having been placed there by people who wished to see over the
+heads of the crowd. Peter started to crawl, and found that he was able to
+do so, and wormed his way behind one of these packing-boxes, and got
+inside and lay hidden from his God.
+</p>
+<p>
+There was blood on him, and he did not know whether it was his own or
+other peoples&rsquo;. He was trembling with fright, his crooked teeth were
+hammering together like those of an angry woodchuck. But the effects of
+the shock continued to pass away, and his wits to come back to him, and at
+last Peter realized that he never had taken seriously the ideas of the
+First Apostolic Church of American City. He listened to the moans of the
+wounded, and to the shouts and uproar of the crowd, and began seriously
+figuring out what could have happened. There had once been an earthquake
+in American City; could this be another one? Or had a volcano opened up in
+the midst of Main Street? Or could it have been a gas-main? And was this
+the end, or would it explode some more? Would the volcano go on erupting,
+and blow Peter and his frail packing-box thru the walls of Guggenheim&rsquo;s
+Department-store?
+</p>
+<p>
+So Peter waited, and listened to the horrible sounds of people in agony,
+and pleading with others to put them out of it. Peter heard voices of men
+giving orders, and realized that these must be policemen, and that no
+doubt there would be ambulances coming. Maybe there was something the
+matter with him, and he ought to crawl out and get himself taken care of.
+All of a sudden Peter remembered his stomach; and his wits, which had been
+sharpened by twenty years&rsquo; struggle against a hostile world, realized in a
+flash the opportunity which fate had brought to him. He must pretend to be
+wounded, badly wounded; he must be unconscious, suffering from shock and
+shattered nerves; then they would take him to the hospital and put him in
+a soft bed and give him things to eat&mdash;maybe he might stay there for
+weeks, and they might give him money when he came out.
+</p>
+<p>
+Or perhaps he might get a job in the hospital, something that was easy,
+and required only alert intelligence. Perhaps the head doctor in the
+hospital might want somebody to watch the other doctors, to see if they
+were neglecting the patients, or perhaps flirting with some of the nurses&mdash;there
+was sure to be something like that going on. It had been that way in the
+orphans&rsquo; home where Peter had spent a part of his childhood till he ran
+away. It had been that way again in the great Temple of Jimjambo,
+conducted by Pashtian el Kalandra, Chief Magistrian of Eleutherinian
+Exoticism. Peter had worked as scullion in the kitchen in that mystic
+institution, and had worked his way upward until he possessed the
+confidence of Tushbar Akrogas, major-domo and right hand man of the
+Prophet himself.
+</p>
+<p>
+Wherever there was a group of people, and a treasure to be administered,
+there Peter knew was backbiting and scandal and intriguing and spying, and
+a chance for somebody whose brains were &ldquo;all there.&rdquo; It might seem strange
+that Peter should think about such things, just then when the earth had
+opened up in front of him and the air had turned to roaring noise and
+blinding white flame, and had hurled him against the side of a building
+and dropped the bleeding half of a woman&rsquo;s body across his chest; but
+Peter had lived from earliest childhood by his wits and by nothing else,
+and such a fellow has to learn to use his wits under any and all
+circumstances, no matter how bewildering. Peter&rsquo;s training covered almost
+every emergency one could think of; he had even at times occupied himself
+by imagining what he would do if the Holy Rollers should turn out to be
+right, and if suddenly Gabriel&rsquo;s trumpet were to blow, and he were to find
+himself confronting Jesus in a long white night-gown.
+</p>
+<p>
+<br /><br />
+</p>
+<hr />
+<p>
+<a name="link2H_4_0003" id="link2H_4_0003"> </a>
+</p>
+<div style="height: 4em;">
+<br /><br /><br /><br />
+</div>
+<h2>
+Section 3
+</h2>
+<p>
+Peter&rsquo;s imaginings were brought to an end by the packing-box being pulled
+out from the wall. &ldquo;Hello!&rdquo; said a voice.
+</p>
+<p>
+Peter groaned, but did not look up. The box was pulled out further, and a
+face peered in. &ldquo;What you hidin&rsquo; in there for?&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+Peter stammered feebly: &ldquo;Wh-wh-what?&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;You hurt?&rdquo; demanded the voice.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;I dunno,&rdquo; moaned Peter.
+</p>
+<p>
+The box was pulled out further, and its occupant slid out. Peter looked
+up, and saw three or four policemen bending over him; he moaned again.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;How did you get in there?&rdquo; asked one.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;I crawled in.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;What for?&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;To g-g-get away from the&mdash;what was it?&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Bomb,&rdquo; said one of the policemen; and Peter was astounded that for a
+moment he forgot to be a nervous wreck.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Bomb!&rdquo; he cried; and at the same moment one of the policemen lifted him
+to his feet.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Can you stand up?&rdquo; he demanded; and Peter tried, and found that he could,
+and forgot that he couldn&rsquo;t. He was covered with blood and dirt, and was
+an unpresentable object, but he was really relieved to discover that his
+limbs were intact.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;What&rsquo;s your name?&rdquo; demanded one of the policemen, and when Peter
+answered, he asked, &ldquo;Where do you work?&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;I got no job,&rdquo; replied Peter.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Where&rsquo;d you work last?&rdquo; And then another broke in, &ldquo;What did you crawl in
+there for?&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;My God!&rdquo; cried Peter. &ldquo;I wanted to get away!&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+The policemen seemed to find it suspicious that he had stayed hidden so
+long. They were in a state of excitement themselves, it appeared; a
+terrible crime had been committed, and they were hunting for any trace of
+the criminal. Another man came up, not dressed in uniform, but evidently
+having authority, and he fell onto Peter, demanding to know who he was,
+and where he had come from, and what he had been doing in that crowd. And
+of course Peter had no very satisfactory answers to give to any of these
+questions. His occupations had been unusual, and not entirely credible,
+and his purposes were hard to explain to a suspicious questioner. The man
+was big and burly, at least a foot taller than Peter, and as he talked he
+stooped down and stared into Peter&rsquo;s eyes as if he were looking for dark
+secrets hidden back in the depths of Peter&rsquo;s skull. Peter remembered that
+he was supposed to be sick, and his eyelids drooped and he reeled
+slightly, so that the policemen had to hold him up.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;I want to talk to that fellow,&rdquo; said the questioner. &ldquo;Take him inside.&rdquo;
+ One of the officers took Peter under one arm, and the other under the
+other arm, and they half walked and half carried him across the street and
+into a building.
+</p>
+<p>
+<br /><br />
+</p>
+<hr />
+<p>
+<a name="link2H_4_0004" id="link2H_4_0004"> </a>
+</p>
+<div style="height: 4em;">
+<br /><br /><br /><br />
+</div>
+<h2>
+Section 4
+</h2>
+<p>
+It was a big store which the police had opened up. Inside there were
+wounded people lying on the floor, with doctors and others attending them.
+Peter was marched down the corridor, and into a room where sat or stood
+several other men, more or less in a state of collapse like himself;
+people who had failed to satisfy the police, and were being held under
+guard.
+</p>
+<p>
+Peter&rsquo;s two policemen backed him against the wall and proceeded to go thru
+his pockets, producing the shameful contents&mdash;a soiled rag, and two
+cigarette butts picked up on the street, and a broken pipe, and a watch
+which had once cost a dollar, but was now out of order, and too badly
+damaged to be pawned. That was all they had any right to find, so far as
+Peter knew. But there came forth one thing more&mdash;the printed circular
+which Peter had thrust into his pocket. The policeman who pulled it out
+took a glance at it, and then cried, &ldquo;Good God!&rdquo; He stared at Peter, then
+he stared at the other policeman and handed him the paper.
+</p>
+<p>
+At that moment the man not in uniform entered the room. &ldquo;Mr. Guffey!&rdquo;
+ cried the policeman. &ldquo;See this!&rdquo; The man took the paper, and glanced at
+it, and Peter, watching with bewildered and fascinated eyes, saw a most
+terrifying sight. It was as if the man went suddenly out of his mind. He
+glared at Peter, and under his black eyebrows the big staring eyes seemed
+ready to jump out of his head.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Aha!&rdquo; he exclaimed; and then, &ldquo;So I&rsquo;ve got you!&rdquo; The hand that held the
+paper was trembling, and the other hand reached out like a great claw, and
+fastened itself in the neck of Peter&rsquo;s coat, and drew it together until
+Peter was squeezed tight. &ldquo;You threw that bomb!&rdquo; hissed the man.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Wh-what?&rdquo; gasped Peter, his voice almost fainting. &ldquo;B-b-bomb?&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Out with it!&rdquo; cried the man, and his face came close to Peter&rsquo;s, his
+teeth gleaming as if he were going to bite off Peter&rsquo;s nose. &ldquo;Out with it!
+Quick! Who helped you?&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;My G-God!&rdquo; said Peter. &ldquo;I d-dunno what you mean.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;You dare lie to me?&rdquo; roared the man; and he shook Peter as if he meant to
+jar his teeth out. &ldquo;No nonsense now! Who helped you make that bomb?&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+Peter&rsquo;s voice rose to a scream of terror: &ldquo;I never saw no bomb! I dunno
+what you&rsquo;re talkin&rsquo; about!&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;You, come this way,&rdquo; said the man, and started suddenly toward the door.
+It might have been more convenient if he had turned Peter around, and got
+him by the back of his coat-collar; but he evidently held Peter&rsquo;s physical
+being as a thing too slight for consideration&mdash;he just kept his grip
+in the bosom of Peter&rsquo;s jacket, and half lifted him and half shoved him
+back out of the room, and down a long passage to the back part of the
+building. And all the time he was hissing into Peter&rsquo;s face: &ldquo;I&rsquo;ll have it
+out of you! Don&rsquo;t think you can lie to me! Make up your mind to it, you&rsquo;re
+going to come thru!&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+The man opened a door. It was some kind of storeroom, and he walked Peter
+inside and slammed the door behind him. &ldquo;Now, out with it!&rdquo; he said. The
+man thrust into his pocket the printed circular, or whatever it was&mdash;Peter
+never saw it again, and never found out what was printed on it. With his
+free hand the man grabbed one of Peter&rsquo;s hands, or rather one finger of
+Peter&rsquo;s hand, and bent it suddenly backward with terrible violence. &ldquo;Oh!&rdquo;
+ screamed Peter. &ldquo;Stop!&rdquo; And then, with a wild shriek, &ldquo;You&rsquo;ll break it.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;I mean to break it! mean to break every bone in your body! I&rsquo;ll tear your
+finger-nails out; I&rsquo;ll tear the eyes out of your head, if I have to! You
+tell me who helped you make that bomb!&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+Peter broke out in a storm of agonized protest; he had never heard of any
+bomb, he didn&rsquo;t know what the man was talking about; he writhed and
+twisted and doubled himself over backward, trying to evade the frightful
+pain of that pressure on his finger.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;You&rsquo;re lying!&rdquo; insisted Guffey. &ldquo;I know you&rsquo;re lying. You&rsquo;re one of that
+crowd.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;What crowd? Ouch! I dunno what you mean!&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;You&rsquo;re one of them Reds, aint you?&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Reds? What are Reds?&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;You want to tell me you don&rsquo;t know what a Red is? Aint you been giving
+out them circulars on the street?&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;I never seen the circular!&rdquo; repeated Peter. &ldquo;I never seen a word in it; I
+dunno what it is.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;You try to stuff me with that?&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Some woman gimme that circular on the street! Ouch! Stop! Jesus! I tell
+you I never looked at the circular!&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;You dare go on lying?&rdquo; shouted the man, with fresh access of rage. &ldquo;And
+when I seen you with them Reds? I know about your plots, I&rsquo;m going to get
+it out of you.&rdquo; He grabbed Peter&rsquo;s wrist and began to twist it, and Peter
+half turned over in the effort to save himself, and shrieked again, in
+more piercing tones, &ldquo;I dunno! I dunno!&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;What&rsquo;s them fellows done for you that you protect them?&rdquo; demanded the
+other. &ldquo;What good&rsquo;ll it do you if we hang you and let them escape?&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+But Peter only screamed and wept the louder.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;They&rsquo;ll have time to get out of town,&rdquo; persisted the other. &ldquo;If you speak
+quick we can nab them all, and then I&rsquo;ll let you go. You understand, we
+won&rsquo;t do a thing to you, if you&rsquo;ll come thru and tell us who put you up to
+this. We know it wasn&rsquo;t you that planned it; it&rsquo;s the big fellows we
+want.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+He began to wheedle and coax Peter; but then, when Peter answered again
+with his provoking &ldquo;I dunno,&rdquo; he would give another twist to Peter&rsquo;s
+wrist, and Peter would yell, almost incoherent with terror and pain&mdash;but
+still declaring that he could tell nothing, he knew nothing about any
+bomb.
+</p>
+<p>
+So at last Guffey wearied of this futile inquisition; or perhaps it
+occurred to him that this was too public a place for the prosecution of a
+&ldquo;third degree&rdquo;&mdash;there might be some one listening outside the door.
+He stopped twisting Peter&rsquo;s wrist, and tilted back Peter&rsquo;s head so that
+Peter&rsquo;s frightened eyes were staring into his.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Now, young fellow,&rdquo; he said, &ldquo;look here. I got no time for you just now,
+but you&rsquo;re going to jail, you&rsquo;re my prisoner, and make up your mind to it,
+sooner or later I&rsquo;m going to get it out of you. It may take a day, or it
+may take a month, but you&rsquo;re going to tell me about this bomb plot, and
+who printed this here circular opposed to Preparedness, and all about
+these Reds you work with. I&rsquo;m telling you now&mdash;so you think it over;
+and meantime, you hold your mouth, don&rsquo;t say a word to a living soul, or
+if you do I&rsquo;ll tear your tongue out of your throat.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+Then, paying no attention to Peter&rsquo;s wailings, he took him by the back of
+the collar and marched him down the hall again, and turned him over to one
+of the policemen. &ldquo;Take this man to the city jail,&rdquo; he said, &ldquo;and put him
+in the hole, and keep him there until I come, and don&rsquo;t let him speak a
+word to anybody. If he tries it, mash his mouth for him.&rdquo; So the policeman
+took poor sobbing Peter by the arm and marched him out of the building.
+</p>
+<p>
+<br /><br />
+</p>
+<hr />
+<p>
+<a name="link2H_4_0005" id="link2H_4_0005"> </a>
+</p>
+<div style="height: 4em;">
+<br /><br /><br /><br />
+</div>
+<h2>
+Section 5
+</h2>
+<p>
+The police had got the crowds driven back by now, and had ropes across the
+street to hold them, and inside the roped space were several ambulances
+and a couple of patrol-wagons. Peter was shoved into one of these latter,
+and a policeman sat by his side, and the bell clanged, and the
+patrol-wagon forced its way slowly thru the struggling crowd. Half an hour
+later they arrived at the huge stone jail, and Peter was marched inside.
+There were no formalities, they did not enter Peter on the books, or take
+his name or his finger prints; some higher power had spoken, and Peter&rsquo;s
+fate was already determined. He was taken into an elevator, and down into
+a basement, and then down a flight of stone steps into a deeper basement,
+and there was an iron door with a tiny slit an inch wide and six inches
+long near the top. This was the &ldquo;hole,&rdquo; and the door was opened and Peter
+shoved inside into utter darkness. The door banged, and the bolts rattled;
+and then silence. Peter sank upon a cold stone floor, a bundle of abject
+and hideous misery.
+</p>
+<p>
+These events had happened with such terrifying rapidity that Peter Gudge
+had hardly time to keep track of them. But now he had plenty of time, he
+had nothing but time. He could think the whole thing out, and realize the
+ghastly trick which fate had played upon him. He lay there, and time
+passed; he had no way of measuring it, no idea whether it was hours or
+days. It was cold and clammy in the stone cell; they called it the
+&ldquo;cooler,&rdquo; and used it to reduce the temperature of the violent and
+intractable. It was a trouble-saving device; they just left the man there
+and forgot him, and his own tormented mind did the rest.
+</p>
+<p>
+And surely no more tormented mind than the mind of Peter Gudge had ever
+been put in that black hole. It was the more terrible, because so utterly
+undeserved, so preposterous. For such a thing to happen to him, Peter
+Gudge, of all people&mdash;who took such pains to avoid discomfort in
+life, who was always ready to oblige anybody, to do anything he was told
+to do, so as to have&rsquo;an easy time, a sufficiency of food, and a warm
+corner to crawl into! What could have persuaded fate to pick him for the
+victim of this cruel prank; to put him into this position, where he could
+not avoid suffering, no matter what he did? They wanted him to tell
+something, and Peter would have been perfectly willing to tell anything&mdash;but
+how could he tell it when he did not know it?
+</p>
+<p>
+The more Peter thought about it, the more outraged he became. It was
+monstrous! He sat up and glared into the black darkness. He talked to
+himself, he talked to the world outside, to the universe which had
+forgotten his existence. He stormed, he wept. He got on his feet and flung
+himself about the cell, which was six feet square, and barely tall enough
+for him to stand erect. He pounded on the door with his one hand which
+Guffey had not lamed, he kicked, and he shouted. But there was no answer,
+and so far as he could tell, there was no one to hear.
+</p>
+<p>
+When he had exhausted himself, he sank down, and fell into a haunted
+sleep; and then he wakened again, to a reality worse than any nightmare.
+That awful man was coming after him again! He was going to torture him, to
+make him tell what he did not know! All the ogres and all the demons that
+had ever been invented to frighten the imagination of children were as
+nothing compared to the image of the man called Guffey, as Peter thought
+of him.
+</p>
+<p>
+Several ages after Peter had been locked up, he heard sounds outside, and
+the door was opened. Peter was cowering in the corner, thinking that
+Guffey had come. There was a scraping on the floor, and then the door was
+banged again, and silence fell. Peter investigated and discovered that
+they had put in a chunk of bread and a pan of water.
+</p>
+<p>
+Then more ages passed, and Peter&rsquo;s impotent ragings were repeated; then
+once more they brought bread and water, and Peter wondered, was it twice a
+day they brought it, or was this a new day? And how long did they mean to
+keep him here? Did they mean to drive him mad? He asked these questions of
+the man who brought the bread and water, but the man made no answer, he
+never at any time spoke a word. Peter had no company in that &ldquo;hole&rdquo; but
+his God; and Peter was not well acquainted with his God, and did not enjoy
+a tete-a-tete with Him.
+</p>
+<p>
+What troubled Peter most was the cold; it got into his bones, and his
+teeth were chattering all the time. Despite all his moving about, he could
+not keep warm. When the man opened the door, he cried out to him, begging
+for a blanket; each time the man came, Peter begged more frantically than
+ever. He was ill, he had been injured in the explosion, he needed a
+doctor, he was going to die! But there was never any answer. Peter would
+lie there and shiver and weep, and writhe, and babble, and lose
+consciousness for a while, and not know whether he was awake or asleep,
+whether he was living or dead. He was becoming delirious, and the things
+that were happening to him, the people who were tormenting him, became
+monsters and fiends who carried him away upon far journeys, and plunged
+him thru abysses of terror and torment.
+</p>
+<p>
+And yet, many and strange as were the phantoms which Peter&rsquo;s sick
+imagination conjured up, there was no one of them as terrible as the
+reality which prevailed just then in the life of American City, and was
+determining the destiny of a poor little man by the name of Peter Gudge.
+There lived in American City a group of men who had taken possession of
+its industries and dominated the lives of its population. This group,
+intrenched in power in the city&rsquo;s business and also in its government,
+were facing the opposition of a new and rapidly rising power, that of
+organized labor, determined to break the oligarchy of business and take
+over its powers. The struggle of these two groups was coming to its
+culmination. They were like two mighty wrestlers, locked in a grip of
+death; two giants in combat, who tear up trees by the roots and break off
+fragments of cliffs from the mountains to smash in each other&rsquo;s skulls.
+And poor Peter&mdash;what was he? An ant which happened to come blundering
+across the ground where these combatants met. The earth was shaken with
+their trampling, the dirt was kicked this way and that, and the unhappy
+ant was knocked about, tumbled head over heels, buried in the debris; and
+suddenly&mdash;Smash!&mdash;a giant foot came down upon the place where he
+was struggling and gasping!
+</p>
+<p>
+<br /><br />
+</p>
+<hr />
+<p>
+<a name="link2H_4_0006" id="link2H_4_0006"> </a>
+</p>
+<div style="height: 4em;">
+<br /><br /><br /><br />
+</div>
+<h2>
+Section 6
+</h2>
+<p>
+Peter had been in the &ldquo;hole&rdquo; perhaps three days, perhaps a week&mdash;he
+did not know, and no one ever told him. The door was opened again, and for
+the first time he heard a voice, &ldquo;Come out here.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+Peter had been longing to hear a voice; but now he shrunk terrified into a
+corner. The voice was the voice of Guffey, and Peter knew what it meant.
+His teeth began to rattle again, and he wailed, &ldquo;I dunno anything! I can&rsquo;t
+tell anything!&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+A hand reached in and took him by the collar, and he found himself walking
+down the corridor in front of Guffey. &ldquo;Shut up!&rdquo; said the man, in answer
+to all his wailings, and took him into a room and threw him into a chair
+as if he had been a bundle of bedding, and pulled up another chair and sat
+down in front of Peter.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Now look here,&rdquo; he said. &ldquo;I want to have an understanding with you. Do
+you want to go back into that hole again?&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;N-n-no,&rdquo; moaned Peter.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Well, I want you to know that you&rsquo;ll spend the rest of your life in that
+hole, except when you&rsquo;re talking to me. And when you&rsquo;re talking to me
+you&rsquo;ll be having your arms twisted off you, and splinters driven into your
+finger nails, and your skin burned with matches&mdash;until you tell me
+what I want to know. Nobody&rsquo;s going to help you, nobody&rsquo;s going to know
+about it. You&rsquo;re going to stay here with me until you come across.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+Peter could only sob and moan.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Now,&rdquo; continued Guffey, &ldquo;I been finding out all about you, I got your
+life story from the day you were born, and there&rsquo;s no use your trying to
+hide anything. I know your part in this here bomb plot, and I can send you
+to the gallows without any trouble whatever. But there&rsquo;s some things I
+can&rsquo;t prove on the other fellows. They&rsquo;re the big ones, the real devils,
+and they&rsquo;re the ones I want, so you&rsquo;ve got a chance to save yourself, and
+you better be thankful for it.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+Peter went on moaning and sobbing.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Shut up!&rdquo; cried the man. And then, fixing Peter&rsquo;s frightened gaze with
+his own, he continued, &ldquo;Understand, you got a chance to save yourself. All
+you got to do is to tell what you know. Then you can come out and you
+won&rsquo;t have any more trouble. We&rsquo;ll take good care of you; everything&rsquo;ll be
+easy for you.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+Peter continued to gaze like a fascinated rabbit. And such a longing as
+surged up in his soul&mdash;to be free, and out of trouble, and taken care
+of! If only he had known anything to tell; if only there was some way he
+could find out something to tell!
+</p>
+<p>
+<br /><br />
+</p>
+<hr />
+<p>
+<a name="link2H_4_0007" id="link2H_4_0007"> </a>
+</p>
+<div style="height: 4em;">
+<br /><br /><br /><br />
+</div>
+<h2>
+Section 7
+</h2>
+<p>
+Suddenly the man reached out and grasped one of Peter&rsquo;s hands. He twisted
+the wrist again, the sore wrist which still ached from the torture. &ldquo;Will
+you tell?&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;I&rsquo;d tell if I could!&rdquo; screamed Peter. &ldquo;My God, how can I?&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Don&rsquo;t lie to me,&rdquo; hissed the man. &ldquo;I know about it now, you can&rsquo;t fool
+me. You know Jim Goober.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;I never heard of him!&rdquo; wailed Peter.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;You lie!&rdquo; declared the other, and he gave Peter&rsquo;s wrist a twist.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Yes, yes, I know him!&rdquo; shrieked Peter.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Oh, that&rsquo;s more like it!&rdquo; said the other. &ldquo;Of course you know him. What
+sort of a looking man is he?&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;I&mdash;I dunno. He&rsquo;s a big man.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;You lie! You know he&rsquo;s a medium-sized man!&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;He&rsquo;s a medium-sized man.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;A dark man?&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Yes, a dark man.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;And you know Mrs. Goober, the music teacher?&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Yes, I know her.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;And you&rsquo;ve been to her house?&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Yes, I&rsquo;ve been to her house.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Where is their house?&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;I dunno&mdash;that is&mdash;&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;It&rsquo;s on Fourth Street?&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Yes, it&rsquo;s on Fourth Street.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;And he hired you to carry that suit-case with the bombs in it, didn&rsquo;t
+he?&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Yes, he hired me.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;And he told you what was in it, didn&rsquo;t he?&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;He&mdash;he&mdash;that is&mdash;I dunno.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;You don&rsquo;t know whether he told you?&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Y-y-yes, he told me.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;You knew all about the plot, didn&rsquo;t you?&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Y-y-yes, I knew.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;And you know Isaacs, the Jew?&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Y-y-yes, I know him.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;He was the fellow that drove the jitney, wasn&rsquo;t he?&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Y-y-yes, he drove the jitney.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Where did he drive it?&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;H-h-he drove it everywhere.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;He drove it over here with the suit-case, didn&rsquo;t he?&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Yes, he did.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;And you know Biddle, and you know what he did, don&rsquo;t you?&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Yes, I know.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;And you&rsquo;re willing to tell all you know about it, are you?&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Yes, I&rsquo;ll tell it all. I&rsquo;ll tell whatever you&mdash;&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;You&rsquo;ll tell whatever you know, will you?&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Y-y-yes, sir.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;And you&rsquo;ll stand by it? You&rsquo;ll not try to back out? You don&rsquo;t want to go
+back into the hole?&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;No, sir.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+And suddenly Guffey pulled from his pocket a paper folded up. It was
+several typewritten sheets. &ldquo;Peter Gudge,&rdquo; he said, &ldquo;I been looking up
+your record, and I&rsquo;ve found out what you did in this case. You&rsquo;ll see when
+you read how perfectly I&rsquo;ve got it. You won&rsquo;t find a single mistake in
+it.&rdquo; Guffey meant this for wit, but poor Peter was too far gone with
+terror to have any idea that there was such a thing as a smile in the
+world.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;This is your story, d&rsquo;you see?&rdquo; continued Guffey. &ldquo;Now take it and read
+it.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+So Peter took the paper in his trembling hand, the one which had not been
+twisted lame. He tried to read it, but his hand shook so that he had to
+put it on his knee, and then he discovered that his eyes had not yet got
+used to the light. He could not see the print. &ldquo;I c-c-can&rsquo;t,&rdquo; he wailed.
+</p>
+<p>
+And the other man took the paper from him. &ldquo;I&rsquo;ll read it to you,&rdquo; he said.
+&ldquo;Now you listen, and put your mind on it, and make sure I&rsquo;ve got it all
+right.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+And so Guffey started to read an elaborate legal document: &ldquo;I, Peter
+Gudge, being duly sworn do depose and declare&mdash;&rdquo; and so on. It was an
+elaborate and detailed story about a man named Jim Goober, and his wife
+and three other men, and how they had employed Peter to buy for them
+certain materials to make bombs, and how Peter had helped them to make the
+bombs in a certain room at a certain given address, and how they had put
+the bombs in a suit-case, with a time clock to set them off, and how
+Isaacs, the jitney driver, had driven them to a certain corner on Main
+Street, and how they had left the suit-case with the bombs on the street
+in front of the Preparedness Day parade.
+</p>
+<p>
+It was very simple and clear, and Peter, as he listened, was almost ready
+to cry with delight, realizing that this was all he had to do to escape
+from his horrible predicament. He knew now what he was supposed to know;
+and he knew it. Why had not Guffey told him long ago, so that he might
+have known it without having his fingers bent out of place and his wrist
+twisted off?
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Now then,&rdquo; said Guffey, &ldquo;that&rsquo;s your confession, is it?&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Y-y-yes,&rdquo; said Peter.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;And you&rsquo;ll stand by it to the end?&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Y-y-yes, sir.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;We can count on you now? No more nonsense?&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Y-y-yes, sir.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;You swear it&rsquo;s all true?&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;I do.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;And you won&rsquo;t let anybody persuade you to go back on it&mdash;no matter
+what they say to you?&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;N-n-no, sir,&rdquo; said Peter.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;All right,&rdquo; said Guffey; and his voice showed the relief of a business
+man who has closed an important deal. He became almost human as lie went
+on. &ldquo;Now, Peter,&rdquo; he said, &ldquo;you&rsquo;re our man, and we&rsquo;re going to count on
+you. You understand, of course, that we have to hold you as a witness, but
+you&rsquo;re not to be a prisoner, and we&rsquo;re going to treat you well. We&rsquo;ll put
+you in the hospital part of the jail, and you&rsquo;ll have good grub and
+nothing to do. In a week or so, we&rsquo;ll want you to appear before the grand
+jury. Meantime, you understand&mdash;not a word to a soul! People may try
+to worm something out of you, but don&rsquo;t you open your mouth about this
+case except to me. I&rsquo;m your boss, and I&rsquo;ll tell you what to do, and I&rsquo;ll
+take care of you all the way. You got that all straight?&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Y-y-yes, sir,&rdquo; said Peter.
+</p>
+<p>
+<br /><br />
+</p>
+<hr />
+<p>
+<a name="link2H_4_0008" id="link2H_4_0008"> </a>
+</p>
+<div style="height: 4em;">
+<br /><br /><br /><br />
+</div>
+<h2>
+Section 8
+</h2>
+<p>
+There was once, so legend declares, a darky who said that he liked to stub
+his toe because it felt so good when it stopped hurting. On this same
+principle Peter had a happy time in the hospital of the American City
+jail. He had a comfortable bed, and plenty to eat, and absolutely nothing
+to do. His sore joints became gradually healed, and he gained half a pound
+a day in weight, and his busy mind set to work to study the circumstances
+about him, to find out how he could perpetuate these comfortable
+conditions, and add to them the little luxuries which make life really
+worth living.
+</p>
+<p>
+In charge of this hospital was an old man by the name of Doobman. He had
+been appointed because he was the uncle of an alderman, and he had held
+the job for the last six years, and during that time had gained weight
+almost as rapidly as Peter was gaining. He had now come to a condition
+where he did not like to get out of his armchair if it could be avoided.
+Peter discovered this, and so found it possible to make himself useful in
+small ways. Also Mr. Doobman had a secret vice; he took snuff, and for the
+sake of discipline he did not want this dreadful fact to become known.
+Therefore he would wait until everybody&rsquo;s back was turned before he took a
+pinch of snuff; and Peter learned this, and would tactfully turn his back.
+</p>
+<p>
+Everybody in this hospital had some secret vice, and it was Mr. Doobman&rsquo;s
+duty to repress the vices of the others. The inmates of the hospital
+included many of the prisoners who had money, and could pay to make
+themselves comfortable. They wanted tobacco, whiskey, cocaine and other
+drugs, and some of them wanted a chance to practice unnamable horrors. All
+the money they could smuggle in they were ready to spend for license to
+indulge themselves. As for the attendants in the hospital, they were all
+political appointees, derelicts who had been unable to hold a job in the
+commercial world, and had sought an easy berth, like Peter himself. They
+took bribes, and were prepared to bribe Peter to outwit Mr. Doobman; Mr.
+Doobman, on the other hand, was prepared to reward Peter with many favors,
+if Peter would consent to bring him secret information. In such a
+situation it was possible for a man with his wits about him to accumulate
+quite a little capital.
+</p>
+<p>
+For the most part Peter stuck by Doobman; having learned by bitter
+experience that in the long run it pays to be honest. Doobman was referred
+to by the other attendants as the &ldquo;Old Man&rdquo;; and always in Peter&rsquo;s life,
+from the very dawn of childhood, there had been some such &ldquo;Old Man,&rdquo; the
+fountain-head of authority, the dispenser of creature comforts. First had
+been &ldquo;Old Man&rdquo; Drubb, who from early morning until late at night wore
+green spectacles, and a sign across his chest, &ldquo;I am blind,&rdquo; and made a
+weary little child lead him thru the streets by the hand. At night, when
+they got home to their garret-room, &ldquo;Old Man&rdquo; Drubb would take off his
+green goggles, and was perfectly able to see Peter, and if Peter had made
+the slightest mistake during the day he would beat him.
+</p>
+<p>
+When Drubb was arrested, Peter was taken to the orphan asylum, and there
+was another &ldquo;Old Man,&rdquo; and the same harsh lesson of subservience to be
+learned. Peter had run away from the asylum; and then had come Pericles
+Priam with his Pain Paralyzer, and Peter had studied his whims and served
+his interests. When Pericles had married a rich widow and she had kicked
+Peter out, there had come the Temple of Jimjambo, where the &ldquo;Old Man&rdquo; had
+been Tushbar Akrogas, the major-domo&mdash;terrible when he was thwarted,
+but a generous dispenser of favors when once you had learned to flatter
+him, to play upon his weaknesses, to smooth the path of his pleasures. All
+these years Peter had been forced to &ldquo;crook the pregnant hinges of the
+knee&rdquo;; it had become an instinct with him&mdash;an instinct that went back
+far behind the twenty years of his conscious life, that went back twenty
+thousand years, perhaps ten times twenty thousand years, to a time when
+Peter had chipped flint spear-heads at the mouth of some cave, and broiled
+marrow-bones for some &ldquo;Old Man&rdquo; of the borde, and seen rebellious young
+fellows cast out to fall prey to the sabre-tooth tiger.
+</p>
+<p>
+<br /><br />
+</p>
+<hr />
+<p>
+<a name="link2H_4_0009" id="link2H_4_0009"> </a>
+</p>
+<div style="height: 4em;">
+<br /><br /><br /><br />
+</div>
+<h2>
+Section 9
+</h2>
+<p>
+Peter found that he was something of a personality in this hospital. He
+was the &ldquo;star&rdquo; witness in the sensational Goober case, about which the
+whole city, and in fact the whole country was talking. It was known that
+he had &ldquo;turned State&rsquo;s&rdquo;; but just what he knew and what he had told was a
+mighty secret, and Peter &ldquo;held his mouth&rdquo; and looked portentous, and
+enjoyed thrills of self-importance.
+</p>
+<p>
+But meantime there was no reason why he should not listen to others talk;
+no reason why he should not inform himself fully about this case, so that
+in future he might be able to take care of himself. He listened to what
+&ldquo;Old Man&rdquo; Doobman had to say, and to what Jan Christian, his Swedish
+assistant had to say, and to what Gerald Leslie, the &ldquo;coke&rdquo; fiend, had to
+say. All these, and others, had friends on the outside, people who were
+&ldquo;in the know.&rdquo; Some told one thing, and others told exactly the opposite;
+but Peter put this and that together, and used his own intrigue-sharpened
+wits upon it, and before long he was satisfied that he had got the facts.
+</p>
+<p>
+Jim Goober was a prominent labor leader. He had organized the employees of
+the Traction Trust, and had called and led a tremendous strike. Also he
+had called building strikes, and some people said he had used dynamite
+upon uncompleted buildings, and made a joke of it. Anyhow, the business
+men of the city wanted to put him where he could no longer trouble them;
+and when some maniac unknown had flung a dynamite bomb into the path of
+the Preparedness parade, the big fellows of the city had decided that now
+was the opportunity they were seeking. Guffey, the man who had taken
+charge of Peter, was head of the secret service of the Traction Trust, and
+the big fellows had put him in complete charge. They wanted action, and
+would take no chances with the graft-ridden and incompetent police of the
+city. They had Goober in jail, with his wife and three of his gang, and
+thru the newspapers of the city they were carrying on a propaganda to
+prepare the public for the hanging of all five.
+</p>
+<p>
+And that was all right, of course; Jim Goober was only a name to Peter,
+and of less importance than a single one of Peter&rsquo;s meals. Peter
+understood what Guffey had done, and his only grudge was because Guffey
+had not had the sense to tell him his story at the beginning, instead of
+first nearly twisting his arm off. However, Peter reflected, no doubt
+Guffey had meant to teach him a lesson, to make sure of him. Peter had
+learned the lesson, and his purpose now was to make this clear to Guffey
+and to Doobman.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Hold your mouth,&rdquo; Guffey had said, and Peter never once said a word about
+the Goober case. But, of course, he talked about other matters. A fellow
+could not go around like a mummy all day long, and it was Peter&rsquo;s weakness
+that he liked to tell about his exploits, the clever devices by which he
+had outwitted his last &ldquo;Old Man.&rdquo; So to Gerald Leslie, the &ldquo;coke&rdquo; fiend,
+he told the story of Pericles Priam, and how many thousands of dollars he
+had helped to wheedle out of the public, and how twice he and Pericles had
+been arrested for swindling. Also he told about the Temple of Jimjambo,
+and all the strange and incredible things that had gone on there. Pashtian
+el Kalandra, who called himself the Chief Magistrian of Eleutherinian
+Exoticism, gave himself out to his followers to be eighty years of age,
+but as a matter of fact he was less than forty. He was supposed to be a
+Persian prince, but had been born in a small town in Indiana, and had
+begun life as a grocer-boy. He was supposed to live upon a handful of
+fruit, but every day it had been Peter&rsquo;s job to assist in the preparation
+of a large beef-steak or a roast chicken. These were &ldquo;for sacrificial
+purposes,&rdquo; so the prophet explained to his attendants; and Peter would get
+the remains of the sacrificial beef-steaks and chickens, and would
+sacrificially devour them behind the pantry door. That had been one of his
+private grafts, which he got in return for keeping secret from the prophet
+some of the stealings of Tushbar Akrogas, the major-domo.
+</p>
+<p>
+A wonderful place had been this Temple of Jimjambo. There were mystic
+altars with seven veils before them, and thru these the Chief Magistrian
+would appear, clad in a long cream-colored robe with gold and purple
+borders, and with pink embroidered slippers and symbolic head-dress. His
+lectures and religious rites had been attended by hundreds&mdash;many of
+them rich society women, who came rolling up to the temple in their
+limousines. Also there had been a school, where children had been
+initiated into the mystic rites of the cult. The prophet would take these
+children into his private apartments, and there were awful rumors&mdash;which
+had ended in the raiding of the temple by the police, and the flight of
+the prophet, and likewise of the majordomo, and of Peter Gudge, his
+scullion and confederate.
+</p>
+<p>
+Also, Peter thought it was fun to tell Gerald Leslie about his adventures
+with the Holy Rollers, into whose church he had drifted during his search
+for a job. Peter had taken up with this sect, and learned the art of
+&ldquo;talking in tongues,&rdquo; and how to fall over the back of your chair in
+convulsions of celestial glory. Peter had gained the confidence of the
+Rev. Gamaliel Lunk, and had been secretly employed by him to carry on a
+propaganda among the congregation to obtain a raise in salary for the
+underpaid convulsionist. But certain things which Peter had learned had
+caused him to go over to the faction of Shoemaker Smithers, who was trying
+to persuade the congregation that he could roll harder and faster than the
+Rev. Gamaliel. Peter had only held this latter job a few days before he
+had been fired for stealing the fried doughnut.
+</p>
+<p>
+<br /><br />
+</p>
+<hr />
+<p>
+<a name="link2H_4_0010" id="link2H_4_0010"> </a>
+</p>
+<div style="height: 4em;">
+<br /><br /><br /><br />
+</div>
+<h2>
+Section 10
+</h2>
+<p>
+All these things and more Peter told; thinking that he was safe now, under
+the protection of authority. But after he had spent about two months in
+the hospital, he was summoned one day into the office, and there stood
+Guffey, glowering at him in a black fury. &ldquo;You damned fool!&rdquo; were Guffey&rsquo;s
+first words.
+</p>
+<p>
+Peter&rsquo;s knees went weak and his teeth began to chatter again.
+&ldquo;Wh-wh-what?&rdquo; he cried.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Didn&rsquo;t I tell you to hold your mouth?&rdquo; And Guffey looked as if he were
+going to twist Peter&rsquo;s wrist again.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Mr. Guffey, I ain&rsquo;t told a soul! I ain&rsquo;t said one word about the Goober
+case, not one word!&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+Peter rushed on, pouring out protests. But Guffey cut him short. &ldquo;Shut up,
+you nut! Maybe you didn&rsquo;t talk about the Goober case, but you talked about
+yourself. Didn&rsquo;t you tell somebody you&rsquo;d worked with that fellow
+Kalandra?&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Y-y-yes, sir.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;And you knew the police were after him, and after you, too?&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Y-y-yes, sir.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;And you said you&rsquo;d been arrested selling fake patent medicines?&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Y-y-yes, sir.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Christ almighty!&rdquo; cried Guffey. &ldquo;And what kind of a witness do you think
+you&rsquo;ll make?&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;But,&rdquo; cried Peter in despair, &ldquo;I didn&rsquo;t tell anybody that would matter. I
+only&mdash;&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;What do you know what would matter?&rdquo; roared the detective, adding a
+stream of furious oaths. &ldquo;The Goober people have got spies on us; they&rsquo;ve
+got somebody right here in this jail. Anyhow, they&rsquo;ve found out about you
+and your record. You&rsquo;ve gone and ruined us with your blabbing mouth!&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;My Lord!&rdquo; whispered Peter, his voice dying away.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Look at yourself on a witness-stand! Look at what they&rsquo;ll do to you
+before a jury! Traveling over the country, swindling people with patent
+medicines&mdash;and getting in jail for it! Working for that hell-blasted
+scoundrel Kalandra&mdash;&rdquo; and Guffey added some dreadful words,
+descriptive of the loathsome vices of which the Chief Magistrian had been
+accused. &ldquo;And you mixed up in that kind of thing!&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;I never done anything like that!&rdquo; cried Peter wildly. &ldquo;I didn&rsquo;t even know
+for sure.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Tell that to the jury!&rdquo; sneered Guffey. &ldquo;Why, they&rsquo;ve even been to that
+Shoemaker Smithers, and they&rsquo;ll put his wife on the stand to prove you a
+sneak thief, and tell how she kicked you out. And all because you couldn&rsquo;t
+hold your mouth as I told you to!&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+Peter burst into tears. He fell down on his knees, pleading that he hadn&rsquo;t
+meant any harm; he hadn&rsquo;t had any idea that he was not supposed to talk
+about his past life; he hadn&rsquo;t realized what a witness was, or what he was
+supposed to do. All he had been told was to keep quiet about the Goober
+case, and he had kept quiet. So Peter sobbed and pleaded&mdash;but in
+vain. Guffey ordered him back to the hole, declaring his intention to
+prove that Peter was the one who had thrown the bomb, and that Peter,
+instead of Jim Goober, had been the head and front of the conspiracy.
+Hadn&rsquo;t Peter signed a confession that he had helped to make the bomb?
+</p>
+<p>
+<br /><br />
+</p>
+<hr />
+<p>
+<a name="link2H_4_0011" id="link2H_4_0011"> </a>
+</p>
+<div style="height: 4em;">
+<br /><br /><br /><br />
+</div>
+<h2>
+Section 11
+</h2>
+<p>
+Again Peter did not know how long he lay shivering in the black dungeon.
+He only knew that they brought him bread and water three times, before
+Guffey came again and summoned him forth. Peter now sat huddled into a
+chair, twisting his trembling hands together, while the chief detective of
+the Traction Trust explained to him his new program. Peter was permanently
+ruined as a witness in the case. The labor conspirators had raised huge
+sums for their defense; they had all the labor unions of the city, and in
+fact of the entire country behind them, and they were hiring spies and
+informers, and trying to find out all they could about the prosecution,
+the evidence it had collected and the moves it was preparing. Guffey did
+not say that he had been afraid to kick Peter out because of the
+possibility that Peter might go over to the Goober side and tell all he
+knew; but Peter guessed this while he sat listening to Guffey&rsquo;s
+explanation, and realized with a thrill of excitement that at last he had
+really got a hold upon the ladder of prosperity. Not in vain had his
+finger been almost broken and his wrist almost dislocated!
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Now,&rdquo; said Guffey, &ldquo;here&rsquo;s my idea: As a witness you&rsquo;re on the bum, but
+as a spy, you&rsquo;re it. They know that you blabbed, and that I know it; they
+know I&rsquo;ve had you in the hole. So now what I want to do is to make a
+martyr of you. D&rsquo;you see?&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+Peter nodded; yes, he saw. It was his specialty, seeing things like that.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;You&rsquo;re an honest witness, you understand? I tried to get you to lie, and
+you wouldn&rsquo;t, so now you go over to the other side, and they take you in,
+and you find out all you can, and from time to time you meet somebody as
+I&rsquo;ll arrange it, and send me word what you&rsquo;ve learned. You get me?&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;I get you,&rdquo; said Peter, eagerly. No words could portray his relief. He
+had a real job now! He was going to be a sleuth, like Guffey himself.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Now,&rdquo; said Guffey, &ldquo;the first thing I want to know is, who&rsquo;s blabbing in
+this jail; we can&rsquo;t do anything but they get tipped off. I&rsquo;ve got
+witnesses that I want kept hidden, and I don&rsquo;t dare put them here for fear
+of the Goober crowd. I want to know who are the traitors. I want to know a
+lot of things that I&rsquo;ll tell you from time to time. I want you to get next
+to these Reds, and learn about their ideas, so you can talk their lingo.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Sure,&rdquo; said Peter. He could not help smiling a little. He was supposed to
+be a &ldquo;Red&rdquo; already, to have been one of their leading conspirators. But
+Guffey had abandoned that pretence&mdash;or perhaps had forgotten about
+it!
+</p>
+<p>
+It was really an easy job that Peter had set before him. He did not have
+to pretend to be anything different from what he was. He would call
+himself a victim of circumstances, and would be honestly indignant against
+those who had sought to use him in a frame-up against Jim Goober. The rest
+would follow naturally. He would get the confidence of the labor people,
+and Guffey would tell him what to do next.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;We&rsquo;ll put you in one of the cells of this jail,&rdquo; said the chief
+detective, &ldquo;and we&rsquo;ll pretend to give you a &lsquo;third degree.&rsquo; You&rsquo;ll holler
+and make a fuss, and say you won&rsquo;t tell, and finally we&rsquo;ll give up and
+kick you out. And then all you have to do is just hang around. They&rsquo;ll
+come after you, or I miss my guess.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+So the little comedy was arranged and played thru. Guffey took Peter by
+the collar and led him out into the main part of the jail, and locked him
+in one of a row of open cells. He grabbed Peter by the wrist and pretended
+to twist it, and Peter pretended to protest. He did not have to draw on
+his imagination; he knew how it felt, and how he was supposed to act, and
+he acted. He sobbed and screamed, and again and again he vowed that he had
+told the truth, that he knew nothing else than what he had told, and that
+nothing could make him tell any more. Guffey left him there until late the
+next afternoon, and then came again, and took him by the collar, and led
+him out to the steps of the jail, and gave him a parting kick.
+</p>
+<p>
+Peter was free! What a wonderful sensation&mdash;freedom! God! Had there
+ever been anything like it? He wanted to shout and howl with joy. But
+instead he staggered along the street, and sank down upon a stone coping,
+sobbing, with his head clasped in his hands, waiting for something to
+happen. And sure enough, it happened. Perhaps an hour passed, when he was
+touched lightly on the shoulder. &ldquo;Comrade,&rdquo; said a soft voice, and Peter,
+looking between his fingers, saw the skirts of a girl. A folded slip of
+paper was pressed into his hand and the soft voice said: &ldquo;Come to this
+address.&rdquo; The girl walked on, and Peter&rsquo;s heart leaped with excitement.
+Peter was a sleuth at last!
+</p>
+<p>
+<br /><br />
+</p>
+<hr />
+<p>
+<a name="link2H_4_0012" id="link2H_4_0012"> </a>
+</p>
+<div style="height: 4em;">
+<br /><br /><br /><br />
+</div>
+<h2>
+Section 12
+</h2>
+<p>
+Peter waited until after dark, in order to indulge his sense of the
+romantic; also he flattered his self-importance by looking carefully about
+him as he walked down the street. He did not know just who would be
+shadowing him, but Peter wanted to be sleuthy.
+</p>
+<p>
+Also he had a bit of genuine anxiety. He had told the truth when he said
+to Guffey that he didn&rsquo;t know what a &ldquo;Red&rdquo; was; but since then he had been
+making in quiries, and now he knew. A &ldquo;Red&rdquo; was a fellow who sympathized
+with labor unions and with strikes; who wanted to murder the rich and
+divide their property, and believed that the quickest way to do the
+dividing was by means of dynamite. All &ldquo;Reds&rdquo; made bombs, and carried
+concealed weapons, and perhaps secret poisons&mdash;who could tell? And
+now Peter was going among them, he was going to become one of them! It was
+almost too interesting, for a fellow who aimed above everything to be
+comfortable. Something in him whispered, &ldquo;Why not skip; get out of town
+and be done with it?&rdquo; But then he thought of the rewards and honors that
+Guffey had promised him. Also there was the spirit of curiosity; he might
+skip at any time, but first he would like to know a bit more about being a
+&ldquo;dick.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+He came to the number which had been given him, a tiny bungalow in a poor
+neighborhood, and rang the doorbell. It was answered by a girl, and at a
+glance Peter saw that it was the girl who had spoken to him. She did not
+wait for him to announce himself, but cried impulsively, &ldquo;Mr. Gudge! Oh,
+I&rsquo;m so glad you&rsquo;ve come!&rdquo; She added, &ldquo;Comrade!&rdquo;&mdash;just as if Peter
+were a well-known friend. And then, &ldquo;But <i>are</i> you a comrade?&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;How do you mean?&rdquo; asked Peter.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;You&rsquo;re not a Socialist? Well, we&rsquo;ll make one of you.&rdquo; She brought him in
+and showed him to a chair, saying, &ldquo;I know what they did to you; and you
+stood out against them! Oh, you were wonderful! Wonderful!&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+Peter was at a loss what to say. There was in this girl&rsquo;s voice a note of
+affection, as well as of admiration; and Peter in his hard life had had
+little experience with emotions of this sort. Peter had watched the
+gushings and excitements of girls who were seeking flirtations; but this
+girl&rsquo;s attitude he felt at once was not flirtatious. Her voice tho soft,
+was just a trifle too solemn for a young girl; her deep-set, wistful grey
+eyes rested on Peter with the solicitude of a mother whose child has just
+escaped a danger.
+</p>
+<p>
+She called: &ldquo;Sadie, here&rsquo;s Mr. Gudge.&rdquo; And there entered another girl,
+older, taller, but thin and pale like her sister. Jennie and Sadie Todd
+were their names, Peter learned; the older was a stenographer, and
+supported the family. The two girls were in a state of intense concern.
+They started to question Peter about his experiences, but he had only
+talked for a minute or two before the elder went to the telephone. There
+were various people who must see Peter at once, important people who were
+to be notified as soon as he turned up. She spent some time at the phone,
+and the people she talked with must have phoned to others, because for the
+next hour or two there was a constant stream of visitors coming in, and
+Peter had to tell his story over and over again.
+</p>
+<p>
+The first to come was a giant of a man with tight-set mouth and so
+powerful a voice that it frightened Peter. He was not surprised to learn
+that this man was the leader of one of the most radical of the city&rsquo;s big
+labor unions, the seamen&rsquo;s. Yes, he was a &ldquo;Red,&rdquo; all right; he
+corresponded to Peter&rsquo;s imaginings&mdash;a grim, dangerous man, to be
+pictured like Samson, seizing the pillars of society and pulling them down
+upon his head. &ldquo;They&rsquo;ve got you scared, my boy,&rdquo; he said, noting Peter&rsquo;s
+hesitating answers to his questions. &ldquo;Well, they&rsquo;ve had me scared for
+forty-five years, but I&rsquo;ve never let them know it yet.&rdquo; Then, in order to
+cheer Peter up and strengthen his nerves, he told how he, a runaway
+seaman, had been hunted thru the Everglades of Florida with bloodhounds,
+and tied to a tree and beaten into insensibility.
+</p>
+<p>
+Then came David Andrews, whom Peter had heard of as one of the lawyers in
+the Goober case, a tall, distinguished-looking man with keen, alert
+features. What was such a man doing among these outcasts? Peter decided
+that he must be one of the shrewd ones who made money out of inciting the
+discontented. Then came a young girl, frail and sensitive, slightly
+crippled. As she crossed the room to shake his hand tears rolled down her
+cheeks, and Peter stood embarrassed, wondering if she had just lost a near
+relative, and what was he to say about it. From her first words he
+gathered, to his great consternation, that she had been moved to tears by
+the story of what he himself had endured.
+</p>
+<p>
+Ada Ruth was a poet, and this was a new type for Peter; after much groping
+in his mind he set her down for one of the dupes of the movement&mdash;a
+poor little sentimental child, with no idea of the wickedness by which she
+was surrounded. With her came a Quaker boy with pale, ascetic face and
+black locks which he had to shake back from his eyes every now and then;
+he wore a Windsor tie, and a black felt hat, and other marks of
+eccentricity and from his speeches Peter gathered that he was ready to
+blow up all the governments of the world in the interests of Pacificism.
+The same was true of McCormick, an I. W. W. leader who had just served
+sixty days in jail, a silent young Irishman with drawn lips and restless
+black eyes, who made Peter uneasy by watching him closely and saying
+scarcely a word.
+</p>
+<p>
+<br /><br />
+</p>
+<hr />
+<p>
+<a name="link2H_4_0013" id="link2H_4_0013"> </a>
+</p>
+<div style="height: 4em;">
+<br /><br /><br /><br />
+</div>
+<h2>
+Section 13
+</h2>
+<p>
+They continued to come, one at a time or in groups; old women and young
+women, old men and young men, fanatics and dreamers, agitators who could
+hardly open their mouths without some white-hot words escaping, revealing
+a blaze of passion smouldering in the deeps of them. Peter became more and
+more uneasy, realizing that he was actually in the midst of all the most
+dangerous &ldquo;Reds&rdquo; of American City. They it was whom our law-abiding
+citizens dreaded, who were the objects of more concern to the police than
+all the plain, everyday burglars and bandits. Peter now could see the
+reason&mdash;he had not dreamed that such angry and hate-tormented people
+existed in the world. Such people would be capable of anything! He sat,
+with his restless eyes wandering from one face to another. Which one of
+this crowd had helped to set off the bomb? And would they boast about it
+to him this evening?
+</p>
+<p>
+Peter half expected this; but then again, he wondered. They were such
+strange criminals! They called him &ldquo;Comrade&rdquo;; and they spoke with that
+same affection that had so bewildered him in little Jennie. Was this just
+a ruse to get his confidence, or did these people really think that they
+loved him&mdash;Peter Gudge, a stranger and a secret enemy? Peter had been
+at great pains to fool them; but they seemed to him so easy to fool that
+his pains were wasted. He despised them for this, and all the while he
+listened to them he was saying to himself, &ldquo;The poor nuts!&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+They had come to hear his story, and they plied him with questions, and
+made him tell over and over again every detail. Peter, of course, had been
+carefully instructed; he was not to mention the elaborate confession he
+had been made to sign; that would be giving too dangerous a weapon to
+these enemies of law and order. He must tell as brief a story as possible;
+how he had happened to be near the scene of the explosion, and how the
+police had tried to force him to admit that he knew something about the
+case. Peter told this, according to orders; but he had not been prepared
+for the minute questioning to which he was subjected by Andrews, the
+lawyer, aided by old John Durand, the leader of the seamen. They wanted to
+know everything that had been done to him, and who had done it, and how
+and when and where and why. Peter had a sense of the dramatic, and enjoyed
+being the center of attention and admiration, even tho it was from a
+roomful of criminal &ldquo;Reds.&rdquo; So he told all the picturesque details of how
+Guffey had twisted his wrist and shut him in a dungeon; the memory of the
+pain was still poignant, and came out of him now, with a realism that
+would have moved a colder group.
+</p>
+<pre xml:space="preserve">
+So pretty soon here were all these women sobbing and raging. Little
+Ada Ruth became inspired, and began reciting a poem&mdash;or was she
+composing it right here, before his eyes? She seemed entranced with
+indignation. It was something about the workers arising&mdash;the outcry
+of a mob&mdash;
+
+&ldquo;No further patience with a heedless foe&mdash;
+Get off our backs, or else to hell you go!&rdquo;
+ </pre>
+<p>
+Peter listened, and thought to himself, &ldquo;The poor nut!&rdquo; And then Donald
+Gordon, the Quaker boy, took the floor, and began shaking his long black
+locks, and composing a speech, it seemed. And Peter listened, and thought
+again, &ldquo;The poor nut!&rdquo; Then another man, the editor of a labor journal,
+revealed the fact that he was composing an editorial; he knew Guffey, and
+was going to publish Guffey&rsquo;s picture, and brand him as an
+&ldquo;Inquisitionist.&rdquo; He asked for Peter&rsquo;s picture, and Peter agreed to have
+one taken, and to be headlined as &ldquo;The Inquisitionist&rsquo;s Victim.&rdquo; Peter had
+no idea what the long word meant; but he assented, and thought again, &ldquo;The
+poor nut!&rdquo; All of them were &ldquo;nuts&rdquo;&mdash;taking other people&rsquo;s troubles
+with such excitement!
+</p>
+<p>
+But Peter was frightened, too; he couldn&rsquo;t altogether enjoy being a hero,
+in this vivid and startling fashion; having his name and fame spread from
+one end of the country to the other, so that organized labor might know
+the methods which the great traction interests of American City were
+employing to send a well-known labor leader to the gallows! The thing
+seemed to grow and grow before Peter&rsquo;s frightened eyes. Peter, the ant,
+felt the earth shaking, and got a sudden sense of the mountain size of the
+mighty giants who were stamping in combat over his head. Peter wondered,
+had Guffey realized what a stir his story would make, what a powerful
+weapon he was giving to his enemies? What could Guffey expect to get from
+Peter, to compensate for this damage to his own case? Peter, as he
+listened to the stormy oratory in the crowded little room, found himself
+thinking again and again of running away. He had never seen anything like
+the rage into which these people worked themselves, the terrible things
+they said, the denunciations, not merely of the police of American City,
+but of the courts and the newspapers, the churches and the colleges,
+everything that seemed respectable and sacred to law-abiding citizens like
+Peter Gudge.
+</p>
+<p>
+Peter&rsquo;s fright became apparent. But why shouldn&rsquo;t he be frightened?
+Andrews, the lawyer, offered to take him away and hide him, lest the
+opposition should try to make way with him. Peter would be a most
+important witness for the Goober defense, and they must take good care of
+him. But Peter recovered his self-possession, and took up his noble role.
+No, he would take his chances with the rest of them, he was not too much
+afraid.
+</p>
+<p>
+Sadie Todd, the stenographer, rewarded him for his heroism. They had a
+spare bedroom in their little home, and if Peter cared to stay with them
+for a while, they would try to make him comfortable. Peter accepted this
+invitation, and at a late hour in the evening the gathering broke up. The
+various groups of &ldquo;Reds&rdquo; went their way, their hands clenched and their
+faces portraying a grim resolve to make out of Peter&rsquo;s story a means of
+lashing discontented labor to new frenzies of excitement. The men clasped
+Peter&rsquo;s hand cordially; the ladies gazed at him with soulful eyes, and
+whispered their admiration for his brave course, their hope, indeed their
+conviction, that he would stand by the truth to the end, and would study
+their ideas and join their &ldquo;movement.&rdquo; All the while Peter watched them,
+and continued saying to himself: &ldquo;The poor nuts!&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+<br /><br />
+</p>
+<hr />
+<p>
+<a name="link2H_4_0014" id="link2H_4_0014"> </a>
+</p>
+<div style="height: 4em;">
+<br /><br /><br /><br />
+</div>
+<h2>
+Section 14
+</h2>
+<p>
+The respectable newspapers of American City of course did not waste their
+space upon fantastic accusations brought by radicals, charging the police
+authorities with using torture upon witnesses. But there was a Socialist
+paper published every week in American City, and this paper had a long
+account of Peter&rsquo;s experiences on the front page, together with his
+picture. Also there were three labor papers which carried the story, and
+the Goober Defense Committee prepared a circular about it and mailed out
+thousands of copies all over the country. This circular was written by
+Donald Gordon, the Quaker boy. He brought Peter a proof of it, to make
+sure that he had got all the details right, and Peter read it, and really
+could not help being thrilled to discover what a hero he was. Peter had
+not said anything about his early career, and whoever among the Goober
+Defense Committee had learned those details chose to be diplomatically
+silent. Peter smiled to himself as he thought about that. They were foxy,
+these people! They were playing their hand for all it was worth&mdash;and
+Peter admired them for that. In Donald Gordon&rsquo;s narrative Peter appeared
+as a poor workingman; and Peter grinned. He was used to the word
+&ldquo;working,&rdquo; but when he talked about &ldquo;working people,&rdquo; he meant something
+different from what these Socialists meant.
+</p>
+<p>
+The story went out, and of course all sorts of people wanted to meet
+Peter, and came to the home of the Todd girls. So Peter settled down to
+his job of finding out all he could about these visitors, their names and
+occupations, their relations to the radical movement. Guffey had advised
+him not to make notes, for fear of detection, but Peter could not carry
+all this in his head, so he would retire to his room and make minute notes
+on slips of paper, and carefully sew these up in the lining of his coat,
+with a thrill of mystery.
+</p>
+<p>
+Except for this note-taking, however, Peter&rsquo;s sleuthing was easy work, for
+these people all seemed eager to talk about what they were doing;
+sometimes it frightened Peter&mdash;they were so open and defiant! Not
+merely did they express their ideas to one another and to him, they were
+expressing them on public platforms, and in their publications, in
+pamphlets and in leaflets&mdash;what they called &ldquo;literature.&rdquo; Peter had
+had no idea their &ldquo;movement&rdquo; was so widespread or so powerful. He had
+expected to unearth a secret conspiracy, and perhaps a dynamite-bomb or
+two; instead of which, apparently, he was unearthing a volcano!
+</p>
+<p>
+However, Peter did the best he could. He got the names and details about
+some forty or fifty people of all classes; obscure workingmen and women,
+Jewish tailors, Russian and Italian cigar-workers, American-born
+machinists and printers; also some &ldquo;parlor Reds&rdquo;&mdash;large, immaculate
+and shining ladies who came rolling up to the little bungalow in large,
+immaculate and shining automobiles, and left their uniformed chauffeurs
+outside for hours at a time while they listened to Peter&rsquo;s story of his
+&ldquo;third degree.&rdquo; One benevolent lady with a flowing gray veil, who wafted a
+sweet perfume about the room, suggested that Peter might be in need, and
+pressed a twenty dollar bill into his hand. Peter, thrilled, but also
+bewildered, got a new sense of the wonders of this thing called &ldquo;the
+movement,&rdquo; and decided that when Guffey got thru with him he might turn
+into a &ldquo;Red&rdquo; in earnest for a while.
+</p>
+<p>
+Meantime he settled down to make himself comfortable with the Todd
+sisters. Sadie went off to her work before eight o&rsquo;clock every morning,
+and that was before Peter got up; but Jennie stayed at home, and fixed his
+breakfast, and opened the door for his visitors, and in general played the
+hostess for him. She was a confirmed invalid; twice a week she went off to
+a doctor to have something done to her spine, and the balance of the time
+she was supposed to be resting, but Peter very seldom saw her doing this.
+She was always addressing circulars, or writing letters for the &ldquo;cause,&rdquo;
+ or going off to sell literature and take up collections at meetings. When
+she was not so employed, she was arguing with somebody&mdash;frequently
+with Peter&mdash;trying to make him think as she did.
+</p>
+<p>
+Poor kid, she was all wrought up over the notions she had got about the
+wrongs of the working classes. She gave herself no peace about it, day or
+night, and this, of course, was a bore to Peter, who wanted peace above
+all things. Over in Europe millions of men were organized in armies,
+engaged in slaughtering one another. That, of course, was, very terrible,
+but what was the good of thinking about it? There was no way to stop it,
+and it certainly wasn&rsquo;t Peter&rsquo;s fault. But this poor, deluded child was
+acting all the time as if she were to blame for this European conflict,
+and had the job of bringing it to a close. The tears would come into her
+deep-set grey eyes, and her soft chin would quiver with pain whenever she
+talked about it; and it seemed to Peter she was talking about it all the
+time. It was her idea that the war must be stopped by uprisings on the
+part of the working people in Europe. Apparently she thought this might be
+hastened if the working people of American City would rise up and set an
+example!
+</p>
+<p>
+<br /><br />
+</p>
+<hr />
+<p>
+<a name="link2H_4_0015" id="link2H_4_0015"> </a>
+</p>
+<div style="height: 4em;">
+<br /><br /><br /><br />
+</div>
+<h2>
+Section 15
+</h2>
+<p>
+Jennie talked about this plan quite openly; she would put a red ribbon in
+her hair, and pin a red badge on her bosom, and go into meeting-places and
+sell little pamphlets with red covers. So, of course, it would be Peter&rsquo;s
+duty to report her to the head of the secret service of the Traction
+Trust. Peter regretted this, and was ashamed of having to do it; she was a
+nice little girl, and pretty, too, and a fellow might have had some fun
+with her if she had not been in such a hysterical state. He would sit and
+look at her, as she sat bent over her typewriter. She had soft, fluffy
+hair, the color of twilight, and even white teeth, and a faint flush that
+came and went in her cheeks&mdash;yes, she would not be bad looking at
+all, if only she would straighten up, and spend a little time on her
+looks, as other girls did.
+</p>
+<p>
+But no, she was always in a tension, and the devil of it was, she was
+trying to get Peter into the same state. She was absolutely determined
+that Peter must get wrought up over the wrongs of the working classes. She
+took it for granted that he would, when he was instructed. She would tell
+him harrowing stories, and it was his duty to be duly harrowed; he must be
+continually acting an emotional part. She would give him some of her
+&ldquo;literature&rdquo; to read, and then she would pin him down and make sure that
+he had read it. He knew how to read&mdash;Pericles Priam had seen to that,
+because he wanted him to attend to the printing of his circulars and his
+advertisements in the country newspapers where he was traveling. So now
+Peter was penned in a corner and compelled to fix his attention upon &ldquo;The
+A. B. C. of Socialism,&rdquo; or &ldquo;Capital and Proletariat,&rdquo; or &ldquo;The Path to
+Power.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+Peter told himself that it was part of his job to acquire this
+information. He was going to be a &ldquo;Red,&rdquo; and he must learn their lingo;
+but he found it awfully tiresome, full of long technical words which he
+had never heard before. Why couldn&rsquo;t these fellows at least talk American?
+He had known that there were Socialists, and also &ldquo;Arnychists,&rdquo; as he
+called them, and he thought they were all alike. But now he learned, not
+merely about Socialists and &ldquo;Arnychists,&rdquo; but about State Socialists and
+Communist Anarchists, and Communist Syndicalists and Syndicalist
+Anarchists and Socialist Syndicalists, and Reformist Socialists and Guild
+Socialists, to say nothing about Single Taxers and Liberals and
+Progressives and numerous other varieties, whom he had to meet and
+classify and listen to respectfully and sympathetically. Each particular
+group insisted upon the distinctions which made it different, and each
+insisted that it had the really, truly truth; and Peter became desperately
+bored with their everlasting talk&mdash;how much more simple to lump them
+all together, as did Guffey and McGivney, calling them all &ldquo;Reds!&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+Peter had got it clearly fixed in his mind that what these &ldquo;Reds&rdquo; wanted
+was to divide up the property of the rich. Everyone he had questioned
+about them had said this. But now he learned that this wasn&rsquo;t it exactly.
+What they wanted was to have the State take over the industries, or to
+have the labor unions do it, or to have the working people in general do
+it. They pointed to the post office and the army and the navy, as examples
+of how the State could run things. Wasn&rsquo;t that all right? demanded Jennie.
+And Peter said Yes, that was all right; but hidden back in Peter&rsquo;s soul
+all the time was a whisper that it wouldn&rsquo;t make a damn bit of difference.
+There was a sucker born every minute, and you might be sure that no matter
+how they fixed it up, there would always be some that would find it easy
+to live off the rest. This poor kid, for example, who was ready to throw
+herself away for any fool notion, or for anybody that came along and told
+her a hard-luck story&mdash;would there ever be a state of society in
+which she wouldn&rsquo;t be a juicy morsel to be gobbled up by some fellow with
+a normal appetite?
+</p>
+<p>
+She was alone in the house all day with Peter, and she got to seem more
+and more pretty as he got to know her better. Also it was evident that she
+liked Peter more and more as Peter played his game. Peter revealed himself
+as deeply sympathetic, and a quick convert to the cause; he saw everything
+that Jennie explained to him, he was horrified at the horrible stories, he
+was ready to help her end the European war by starting a revolution among
+the working people of American City. Also, he told her about himself, and
+awakened her sympathy for his harsh life, his twenty years of privation
+and servitude; and when she wept over this, Peter liked it. It was fine,
+somehow, to have her so sorry for him; it helped to compensate him for the
+boredom of hearing her be sorry for the whole working class.
+</p>
+<p>
+Peter didn&rsquo;t know whether Jennie had learned about his bad record, but he
+took no chances&mdash;he told her everything, and thus took the sting out
+of it. Yes, he had been trapped into evil ways, but it wasn&rsquo;t his fault,
+he hadn&rsquo;t known any better, he had been a pitiful victim of circumstances.
+He told how he had been starved and driven about and beaten by &ldquo;Old Man&rdquo;
+ Drubb, and the tears glistened in Jennie&rsquo;s grey eyes and stole down her
+cheeks. He told about loneliness and heartsickness and misery in the
+orphan asylum. And how could he, poor lad, realize that it was wrong to
+help Pericles Priam sell his Peerless Pain Paralyzer? How could he know
+whether the medicine was any good or not&mdash;he didn&rsquo;t even know now, as
+a matter of fact. As for the Temple of Jimjambo, all that Peter had done
+was to wash dishes and work as a kitchen slave, as in any hotel or
+restaurant.
+</p>
+<p>
+It was a story easy to fix up, and especially easy because the first
+article in the creed of Socialist Jennie was that economic circumstances
+were to blame for human frailties. That opened the door for all varieties
+of grafters, and made the child such an easy mark that Peter would have
+been ashamed to make a victim of her, had it not been that she happened to
+stand in the path of his higher purposes&mdash;and also that she happened
+to be young, only seventeen, with tender grey eyes, and tempting, sweet
+lips, alone there in the house all day.
+</p>
+<p>
+<br /><br />
+</p>
+<hr />
+<p>
+<a name="link2H_4_0016" id="link2H_4_0016"> </a>
+</p>
+<div style="height: 4em;">
+<br /><br /><br /><br />
+</div>
+<h2>
+Section 16
+</h2>
+<p>
+Peter&rsquo;s adventures in love had so far been pretty much of a piece with the
+rest of his life experiences; there had been hopes, and wonderful dreams,
+but very few realizations. Peter knew a lot about such matters; in the
+orphan asylum there were few vicious practices which he did not witness,
+few obscene imaginings with which he was not made familiar. Also, Pericles
+Priam had been a man like the traditional sailor, with a girl in every
+port; and generally in these towns and villages there had been no place
+for Peter to go save where Pericles went, so Peter had been the witness of
+many of his master&rsquo;s amours and the recipient of his confidences. But none
+of these girls and women had paid any attention to Peter. Peter was only a
+&ldquo;kid&rdquo;; and when he grew up and was no longer a kid, but a youth tormented
+with sharp desires, they still paid no attention to him&mdash;why should
+they? Peter was nothing; he had no position, no money, no charms; he was
+frail and undersized, his teeth were crooked, and one shoulder higher than
+the other. What could he expect from women and girls but laughter and
+rebuffs?
+</p>
+<p>
+Then Peter moved on to the Temple of Jimjambo, and there a devastating
+experience befell him&mdash;he tumbled head over heels and agonizingly in
+love. There was a chambermaid in the institution, a radiant creature from
+the Emerald Isles with hair like sunrise and cheeks like apples, and a
+laugh that shook the dish-pans on the kitchen walls. She laughed at Peter,
+she laughed at the major-domo, she laughed at all the men in the place who
+tried to catch her round the waist. Once or twice a month perhaps she
+would let them succeed, just to keep them interested, and to keep herself
+in practice.
+</p>
+<p>
+The only one she really favored was the laundry deliveryman, and Peter
+soon realized why. This laundry fellow had the use of an automobile on
+Sundays, and Nell would dress herself up to kill, and roll away in state
+with him. He would spend all his week&rsquo;s earnings entertaining her at the
+beach; Peter knew, because she would tell the whole establishment on
+Monday morning. &ldquo;Gee, but I had a swell time!&rdquo; she would say; and would
+count the ice-creams and the merry-go-rounds and the whirly-gigs and all
+the whang-doodle things. She would tell about the tattooed men and the
+five-legged calf and the woman who was half man, and all the while she
+would make the dishpans rattle.
+</p>
+<p>
+Yes, she was a marvelous creature, and Peter suddenly realized that his
+ultimate desire in life was to possess a &ldquo;swell lady-friend&rdquo; like Nell. He
+realized that there was one essential prerequisite, and that was money.
+None of them would look at you without money. Nell had gone out with him
+only once, and that was upon the savings of six months, and Peter had not
+been able to conceal the effort it cost him to spend it all. So he had
+been set down as a &ldquo;tight-wad,&rdquo; and had made no headway.
+</p>
+<p>
+Nell had disappeared, along with everybody else when the police raided the
+Temple. Peter never knew what had become of her, but the old longings
+still haunted him, and he would find himself imagining&mdash;suppose the
+police had got her; suppose she were in jail, and he with his new &ldquo;pull&rdquo;
+ were able to get her out, and carry her away and keep her hid from the
+laundry man!
+</p>
+<p>
+These were dreams; but meantime here was reality, here was a new world.
+Peter had settled down in the home of the Todd sisters; and what was their
+attitude toward these awful mysteries of love?
+</p>
+<p>
+<br /><br />
+</p>
+<hr />
+<p>
+<a name="link2H_4_0017" id="link2H_4_0017"> </a>
+</p>
+<div style="height: 4em;">
+<br /><br /><br /><br />
+</div>
+<h2>
+Section 17
+</h2>
+<p>
+It had been arranged with Guffey that at the end of a week Peter was to
+have a secret meeting with one of the chief detective&rsquo;s men. So Peter told
+the girls that he was tired of being a prisoner in the house and must get
+some fresh air.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Oh please, Mr. Gudge, don&rsquo;t take such a chance!&rdquo; cried Sadie, her thin,
+anxious face suddenly growing more anxious and thin. &ldquo;Don&rsquo;t you know this
+house is being watched? They are just hoping to catch you out alone. It
+would be the last of you.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;I&rsquo;m not so important as that,&rdquo; said Peter; but she insisted that he was,
+and Peter was pleased, in spite of his boredom, he liked to hear her
+insist upon his importance.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Oh!&rdquo; she cried. &ldquo;Don&rsquo;t you know yet how much depends on you as a witness
+for the Goober defense? This case is of concern to millions of people all
+over the world! It is a test case, Mr. Gudge&mdash;are they to be allowed
+to murder the leaders of the working class without a struggle? No, we must
+show them that there is a great movement, a world-wide awakening of the
+workers, a struggle for freedom for the wage slaves&mdash;&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+But Peter could stand no more of this. &ldquo;All right,&rdquo; he said, suddenly
+interrupting Sadie&rsquo;s eloquence. &ldquo;I suppose it&rsquo;s my duty to stay, even if I
+die of consumption, being shut up without any fresh air.&rdquo; He would play
+the martyr; which was not so hard, for he was one, and looked like one,
+with his thin, one-sided little figure, and his shabby clothes. Both Sadie
+and Jennie gazed at him with admiration, and sighed with relief.
+</p>
+<p>
+But later on, Peter thought of an idea. He could go out at night, he told
+Sadie, and slip out the back way, so that no one would see him; he would
+not go into crowds or brightly lighted streets, so there would be no
+chance of his being recognized. There was a fellow he absolutely had to
+see, who owed him some money; it was way over on the other side of the
+city&mdash;that was why he rejected Jennie&rsquo;s offer to accompany him.
+</p>
+<p>
+So that evening Peter climbed a back fence and stole thru a neighbor&rsquo;s
+chicken-yard and got away. He had a fine time ducking and dodging in the
+crowds, making sure that no one was trailing him to his secret rendezvous&mdash;no
+&ldquo;Red&rdquo; who might chance to be suspicious of his &ldquo;comradeship.&rdquo; It was in
+the &ldquo;American House,&rdquo; an obscure hotel, and Peter was to take the elevator
+to the fourth floor, without speaking to any one, and to tap three times
+on the door of Room 427. Peter did so, and the door opened, and he slipped
+in, and there he met Jerry McGivney, with the face of a rat.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Well, what have you got?&rdquo; demanded McGivney; and Peter sat down and
+started to tell. With eager fingers he undid the amateur sewing in the
+lining of his coat, and pulled out his notes with the names and
+descriptions of people who had come to see him.
+</p>
+<p>
+McGivney glanced over them quickly. &ldquo;Jesus!&rdquo; he said, &ldquo;What&rsquo;s the good of
+all this?&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Well, but they&rsquo;re Reds!&rdquo; exclaimed Peter.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;I know,&rdquo; said the other, &ldquo;but what of that? We can go hear them spout at
+meetings any night. We got membership lists of these different
+organizations. But what about the Goober case?&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Well,&rdquo; said Peter, &ldquo;they&rsquo;re agitating about it all the time; they&rsquo;ve been
+printing stuff about me.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Sure, we know that,&rdquo; said McGivney. &ldquo;And the hell of a fine story you
+gave them; you must have enjoyed hearing yourself talk. But what good does
+that do us?&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;But what do you want to know?&rdquo; cried Peter, in dismay.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;We want to know their secret plans,&rdquo; said the other. &ldquo;We want to know
+what they&rsquo;re doing to get our witnesses; we want to know who it is that is
+selling us out, who&rsquo;s the spy in the jail. Didn&rsquo;t you find that out?&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;N-no,&rdquo; said Peter. &ldquo;Nobody said anything about it.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Good God!&rdquo; said the detective. &ldquo;D&rsquo;you expect them to bring you things on
+a silver tray?&rdquo; He began turning over Peter&rsquo;s notes again, and finally
+threw them on the bed in disgust. He began questioning Peter, and Peter&rsquo;s
+dismay turned to despair. He had not got a single thing that McGivney
+wanted. His whole week of &ldquo;sleuthing&rdquo; had been wasted!
+</p>
+<p>
+The detective did not mince words. &ldquo;It&rsquo;s plain that you&rsquo;re a boob,&rdquo; he
+said. &ldquo;But such as you are, we&rsquo;ve got to do the best we can with you. Now,
+put your mind on it and get it straight: we know who these Reds are, and
+we know what they&rsquo;re teaching; we can&rsquo;t send &lsquo;em to jail for that. What we
+want you to find out is the name of their spy, and who are their witnesses
+in the Goober case, and what they&rsquo;re going to say.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;But how can I find out things like that?&rdquo; cried Peter.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;You&rsquo;ve got to use your wits,&rdquo; said McGivney. &ldquo;But I&rsquo;ll give you one tip;
+get yourself a girl.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;A girl?&rdquo; cried Peter, in wonder.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Sure thing,&rdquo; said the other. &ldquo;That&rsquo;s the way we always work. Guffey says
+there&rsquo;s just three times when people tell their secrets: The first is when
+they&rsquo;re drunk, and the second is when they&rsquo;re in love&mdash;&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+Then McGivney stopped. Peter, who wanted to complete his education,
+inquired, &ldquo;And the third?&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;The third is when they&rsquo;re both drunk and in love,&rdquo; was the reply. And
+Peter was silent, smitten with admiration. This business of sleuthing was
+revealing itself as more complicated and more fascinating all the time.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Ain&rsquo;t you seen any girl you fancy in that crowd?&rdquo; demanded the other.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Well&mdash;it might be&mdash;&rdquo; said Peter, shyly.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;It ought to be easy,&rdquo; continued the detective. &ldquo;Them Reds are all free
+lovers, you know.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Free lovers!&rdquo; exclaimed Peter. &ldquo;How do you mean?&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Didn&rsquo;t you know about that?&rdquo; laughed the other.
+</p>
+<p>
+Peter sat staring at him. All the women that Peter had ever known or heard
+of took money for their love. They either took it directly, or they took
+it in the form of automobile rides and flowers and candy and tickets to
+the whang-doodle things. Could it be that there were women who did not
+take money in either form, but whose love was entirely free?
+</p>
+<p>
+The detective assured him that such was the case. &ldquo;They boast about it,&rdquo;
+ said he. &ldquo;They think it&rsquo;s right.&rdquo; And to Peter that seemed the most
+shocking thing he had yet heard about the Reds.
+</p>
+<p>
+To be sure, when he thought it over, he could see that it had some
+redeeming points; it was decidedly convenient from the point of view of
+the man; it was so much money in his pocket. If women chose to be that
+silly&mdash;and Peter found himself suddenly thinking about little Jennie
+Todd. Yes, she would be that silly, it was plain to see. She gave away
+everything she had; so of course she would be a &ldquo;free lover!&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+Peter went away from his rendezvous with McGivney, thrilling with a new
+and wonderful idea. You couldn&rsquo;t have got him to give up his job now. This
+sleuthing business was the real thing!
+</p>
+<p>
+It was late when Peter got home, but the two girls were sitting up for
+him, and their relief at his safe return was evident. He noticed that
+Jennie&rsquo;s face expressed deeper concern than her sister&rsquo;s, and this gave
+him a sudden new emotion. Jennie&rsquo;s breath came and went more swiftly
+because he had entered the room; and this affected his own breath in the
+same way. He had a swift impulse towards her, an entirely unselfish desire
+to reassure her and relieve her anxiety; but with an instinctive
+understanding of the sex game which he had not before known he possessed,
+he checked this impulse and turned instead to the older sister, assuring
+her that nobody had followed him. He told an elaborate story, prepared on
+the way; he had worked for ten days for a fellow at sawing wood&mdash;hard
+work, you bet, and then the fellow had tried to get out of paying him!
+Peter had caught him at his home that evening, and had succeeded in
+getting five dollars out of him, and a promise of a few dollars more every
+week. That was to cover future visits to McGivney.
+</p>
+<p>
+<br /><br />
+</p>
+<hr />
+<p>
+<a name="link2H_4_0018" id="link2H_4_0018"> </a>
+</p>
+<div style="height: 4em;">
+<br /><br /><br /><br />
+</div>
+<h2>
+Section 18
+</h2>
+<p>
+Peter lay awake a good part of the night, thinking over this new job&mdash;that
+of getting himself a girl. He realized that for some time he had been
+falling in love with little Jennie; but he wanted to be sane and
+practical, he wanted to use his mind in choosing a girl. He was after
+information, first of all. And who had the most to give him? He thought of
+Miss Nebbins, who was secretary to Andrews, the lawyer; she would surely
+know more secrets than anyone else; but then, Miss Nebbins was an old
+maid, who wore spectacles and broad-toed shoes, and was evidently out of
+the question for love-making. Then he thought of Miss Standish, a tall,
+blond beauty who worked in an insurance office and belonged to the
+Socialist Party. She was a &ldquo;swell dresser,&rdquo; and Peter would have been glad
+to have something like that to show off to McGivney and the rest of
+Guffey&rsquo;s men; but with the best efforts of his self-esteem, Peter could
+not imagine himself persuading Miss Standish to look at him. There was a
+Miss Yankovich, one of the real Reds, who trained with the I. W. W.; but
+she was a Jewess, with sharp, black eyes that clearly indicated a temper,
+and frightened Peter. Also, he had a suspicion that she was interested in
+McCormick&mdash;tho of course with these &ldquo;free lovers&rdquo; you could never
+tell.
+</p>
+<p>
+But one girl Peter was quite sure about, and that was little Jennie; he
+didn&rsquo;t know if Jennie knew many secrets, but surely she could find some
+out for him. Once he got her for his own, he could use her to question
+others. And so Peter began to picture what love with Jennie would be like.
+She wasn&rsquo;t exactly what you would call &ldquo;swell,&rdquo; but there was something
+about her that made him sure he needn&rsquo;t be ashamed of her. With some new
+clothes she would be pretty, and she had grand manners&mdash;she had not
+shown the least fear of the rich ladies who came to the house in their
+automobiles; also she knew an awful lot for a girl&mdash;even if most of
+what she knew wasn&rsquo;t so!
+</p>
+<p>
+Peter lost no time in setting to work at his new job. In the papers next
+morning appeared the usual details from Flanders; thousands of men being
+shot to pieces almost every hour of the day and night, a million men on
+each side locked in a ferocious combat that had lasted for weeks, that
+might last for months. And sentimental little Jennie sat there with
+brimming eyes, talking about it while Peter ate his oatmeal and thin milk.
+And Peter talked about it too; how wicked it was, and how they must stop
+it, he and Jennie together. He agreed with her now; he was a Socialist, he
+called her &ldquo;Comrade,&rdquo; and told her she had converted him. Her eyes lighted
+up with joy, as if she had really done something to end the war.
+</p>
+<p>
+They were sitting on the sofa, looking at the paper, and they were alone
+in the house. Peter suddenly looked up from the reading and said, very
+much embarrassed, &ldquo;But Comrade Jennie&mdash;&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Yes,&rdquo; she said, and looked at him with her frank grey eyes. Peter was
+shy, truly a little frightened, this kind of detective business being new
+to him.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Comrade Jennie,&rdquo; he said, &ldquo;I&mdash;I&mdash;don&rsquo;t know just how to say it,
+but I&rsquo;m afraid I&rsquo;m falling a little in love.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+Jennie drew back her hands, and Peter heard her breath come quickly. &ldquo;Oh,
+Mr. Gudge!&rdquo; she exclaimed.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;I&mdash;I don&rsquo;t know&mdash;&rdquo; stammered Peter. &ldquo;I hope you won&rsquo;t mind.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Oh, don&rsquo;t let&rsquo;s do that!&rdquo; she cried.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Why not, Comrade Jennie?&rdquo; And he added, &ldquo;I don&rsquo;t know as I can help it.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Oh, we were having such a happy time, Mr. Gudge! I thought we were going
+to work for the cause!&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Well, but it won&rsquo;t interfere&mdash;&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Oh, but it does, it does; it makes people unhappy!&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Then&mdash;&rdquo; and Peter&rsquo;s voice trembled&mdash;&ldquo;then you don&rsquo;t care the
+least bit for me, Comrade Jennie?&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+She hesitated a moment. &ldquo;I don&rsquo;t know,&rdquo; she said. &ldquo;I hadn&rsquo;t thought&mdash;&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+And Peter&rsquo;s heart gave a leap inside him. It was the first time that any
+girl had ever had to hesitate in answering that question for Peter.
+Something prompted him&mdash;just as if he had been doing this kind of
+&ldquo;sleuthing&rdquo; all his life. He reached over, and very gently took her hand.
+&ldquo;You do care just a little for me?&rdquo; he whispered.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Oh, Comrade Gudge,&rdquo; she answered, and Peter said, &ldquo;Call me &lsquo;Peter.&rsquo; 
+Please, please do.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Comrade Peter,&rdquo; she said, and there was a little catch in her throat, and
+Peter, looking at her, saw that her eyes were cast down.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;I know I&rsquo;m not very much to love,&rdquo; he pleaded. &ldquo;I&rsquo;m poor and obscure&mdash;I&rsquo;m
+not good looking&mdash;&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Oh, it isn&rsquo;t that!&rdquo; she cried, &ldquo;Oh, no, no! Why should I think about such
+things? You are a comrade!&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+Peter had known, of course, just how she would take this line of talk.
+&ldquo;Nobody has ever loved me,&rdquo; he said, sadly. &ldquo;Nobody cares anything about
+you, when you are poor, and have nothing to offer&mdash;&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;I tell you, that isn&rsquo;t it!&rdquo; she insisted. &ldquo;Please don&rsquo;t think that! You
+are a hero. You have sacrificed for the cause, and you are going on and
+become a leader.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;I hope so,&rdquo; said Peter, modestly. &ldquo;But then, what is it, Comrade Jennie?
+Why don&rsquo;t you care for me?&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+She looked up at him, and their eyes met, and with a little sob in her
+voice she answered, &ldquo;I&rsquo;m not well, Comrade Peter. I&rsquo;m of no use; it would
+be wicked for me to marry.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+Somewhere back in the depths of Peter, where his inner self was crouching,
+it was as if a sudden douche of ice-cold water were let down on him.
+&ldquo;Marry!&rdquo; Who had said anything about marrying? Peter&rsquo;s reaction fitted the
+stock-phrase of the comic papers: &ldquo;This is so sudden!&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+But Peter was too clever to reveal such dismay. He humored little Jennie,
+saying, &ldquo;We don&rsquo;t have to marry right away. I could wait, if only I knew
+that you cared for me; and some day, when you get well&mdash;&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+She shook her head sadly. &ldquo;I&rsquo;m afraid I&rsquo;ll never get really well. And
+besides, neither of us have any money, Comrade Peter.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+Ah, there it was! Money, always money! This &ldquo;free love&rdquo; was nothing but a
+dream.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;I could get a job,&rdquo; said Peter&mdash;just like any other tame and
+conventional wooer.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;But you couldn&rsquo;t earn enough for two of us,&rdquo; protested the girl; and
+suddenly she sprang up. &ldquo;Oh, Comrade Peter, let&rsquo;s not fall in love with
+each other! Let&rsquo;s not make ourselves unhappy, let&rsquo;s work for the cause!
+Promise me that you will!&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+Peter promised; but of course he had no remotest intention of keeping the
+promise. He was not only a detective, he was a man&mdash;and in both
+capacities he wanted Comrade Jennie. He had all the rest of the day, and
+over the addressing of envelopes which he undertook with her, he would now
+and then steal love-glances; and Jennie knew now what these looks meant,
+and the faint flush would creep over her cheeks and down into her neck and
+throat. She was really very pretty when she was falling in love, and Peter
+found his new job the most delightful one of his lifetime. He watched
+carefully, and noted the signs, and was sure he was making no mistake;
+before Sadie came back at supper-time he had his arms about Comrade
+Jennie, and was pressing kisses upon the lovely white throat; and Comrade
+Jennie was sobbing softly, and her pleading with him to stop had grown
+faint and unconvincing.
+</p>
+<p>
+<br /><br />
+</p>
+<hr />
+<p>
+<a name="link2H_4_0019" id="link2H_4_0019"> </a>
+</p>
+<div style="height: 4em;">
+<br /><br /><br /><br />
+</div>
+<h2>
+Section 19
+</h2>
+<p>
+There was the question of Sadie to be settled. There was a certain severe
+look that sometimes came about Sadie&rsquo;s lips, and that caused Peter to feel
+absolutely certain that Comrade Sadie had no sympathy with &ldquo;free love,&rdquo;
+ and very little sympathy with any love save her own for Jennie. She had
+nursed her &ldquo;little sister&rdquo; and tended her like a mother for many years;
+she took the food out of her mouth to give to Jennie&mdash;and Jennie in
+turn gave it to any wandering agitator who came along and hung around
+until mealtime. Peter didn&rsquo;t want Sadie to know what had been going on in
+her absence, and yet he was afraid to suggest to Jennie that she should
+deceive her sister.
+</p>
+<p>
+He managed it very tactfully. Jennie began pleading again: &ldquo;We ought not
+to do this, Comrade Peter!&rdquo; And so Peter agreed, perhaps they oughtn&rsquo;t,
+and they wouldn&rsquo;t any more. So Jennie put her hair in order, and
+straightened her blouse, and her lover could see that she wasn&rsquo;t going to
+tell Sadie.
+</p>
+<p>
+And the next day they were kissing again and agreeing again that they
+mustn&rsquo;t do it; and so once more Jennie didn&rsquo;t tell Sadie. Before long
+Peter had managed to whisper the suggestion that their love was their own
+affair, and they ought not to tell anybody for the present; they would
+keep the delicious secret, and it would do no one any harm. Jennie had
+read somewhere about a woman poet by the name of Mrs. Browning, who had
+been an invalid all her life, and whose health had been completely
+restored by a great and wonderful love. Such a love had now come to her;
+only Sadie might not understand, Sadie might think they did not know each
+other well enough, and that they ought to wait. They knew, of course, that
+they really did know each other perfectly, so there was no reason for
+uncertainty or fear. Peter managed deftly to put these suggestions into
+Jennie&rsquo;s mind as if they were her own.
+</p>
+<p>
+And all the time he was making ardent love to her; all day long, while he
+was helping her address envelopes and mail out circulars for the Goober
+Defense Committee. He really did work hard; he didn&rsquo;t mind working, when
+he had Jennie at the table beside him, and could reach over and hold her
+hand every now and then, or catch her in his arms and murmur passionate
+words. Delicious thrills and raptures possessed him; his hopes would rise
+like a flood-tide&mdash;but then, alas, only to ebb again! He would get so
+far, and every time it would be as if he had run into a stone wall. No
+farther!
+</p>
+<p>
+Peter realized that McGivney&rsquo;s &ldquo;free love&rdquo; talk had been a cruel mistake.
+Little Jennie was like all the other women&mdash;her love wasn&rsquo;t going to
+be &ldquo;free.&rdquo; Little Jennie wanted a husband, and every time you kissed her,
+she began right away to talk about marriage, and you dared not hint at
+anything else because you knew it would spoil everything. So Peter was
+thrown back upon devices older than the teachings of any &ldquo;Reds.&rdquo; He went
+after little Jennie, not in the way of &ldquo;free lovers,&rdquo; but in the way of a
+man alone in the house with a girl of seventeen, and wishing to seduce
+her. He vowed that he loved her with an overwhelming and eternal love. He
+vowed that he would get a job and take care of her. And then he let her
+discover that he was suffering torments; he could not live without her. He
+played upon her sympathy, he played upon her childish innocence, he played
+upon that pitiful, weak sentimentality which caused her to believe in
+pacifism and altruism and socialism and all the other &ldquo;isms&rdquo; that were
+jumbled up in her head.
+</p>
+<p>
+And so in a couple of weeks Peter had succeeded in his purpose of carrying
+little Jennie by storm. And then, how enraptured he was! Peter, with his
+first girl, decided that being a detective was the job for him! Peter knew
+that he was a real detective now, using the real inside methods, and on
+the trail of the real secrets of the Goober case!
+</p>
+<p>
+And sure enough, he began at once to get them. Jennie was in love; Jennie
+was, as you might say, &ldquo;drunk with love,&rdquo; and so she fulfilled both the
+conditions which Guffey had laid down. So Jennie told the truth! Sitting
+on Peter&rsquo;s knee, with her arms clasped about him, and talking about her
+girlhood, the happy days before her mother and father had been killed in
+the factory where they worked, little Jennie mentioned the name of a young
+man, Ibbetts.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Ibbetts?&rdquo; said Peter. It was a peculiar name, and sounded familiar.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;A cousin of ours,&rdquo; said Jennie.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Have I met him?&rdquo; asked Peter, groping in his mind.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;No, he hasn&rsquo;t been here.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Ibbetts?&rdquo; he repeated, still groping; and suddenly he remembered. &ldquo;Isn&rsquo;t
+his name Jack?&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+Jennie did not answer for a moment. He looked at her, and their eyes met,
+and he saw that she was frightened. &ldquo;Oh, Peter!&rdquo; she whispered. &ldquo;I wasn&rsquo;t
+to tell! I wasn&rsquo;t to tell a soul!&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+Inside Peter, something was shouting with delight. To hide his emotion he
+had to bury his face in the soft white throat. &ldquo;Sweetheart!&rdquo; he whispered.
+&ldquo;Darling!&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Uh, Peter!&rdquo; she cried. &ldquo;You know&mdash;don&rsquo;t you?&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Of course!&rdquo; he laughed. &ldquo;But I won&rsquo;t tell. You needn&rsquo;t mind trusting me.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Oh, but Mr. Andrews was so insistent!&rdquo; said Jennie, &ldquo;He made Sadie and me
+swear that we wouldn&rsquo;t breathe it to a soul.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Well, you didn&rsquo;t tell,&rdquo; said Peter. &ldquo;I found it out by accident. Don&rsquo;t
+mention it, and nobody will be any the wiser. If they should find out that
+I know, they wouldn&rsquo;t blame you; they&rsquo;d understand that I know Jack
+Ibbetts&mdash;me being in jail so long.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+So Jennie forgot all about the matter, and Peter went on with the kisses,
+making her happy, as a means of concealing his own exultation. He had done
+the job for which Guffey had sent him! He had solved the first great
+mystery of the Goober case! The spy in the jail of American City, who was
+carrying out news to the Defense Committee, was Jack Ibbetts, one of the
+keepers in the jail, and a cousin of the Todd sisters!
+</p>
+<p>
+<br /><br />
+</p>
+<hr />
+<p>
+<a name="link2H_4_0020" id="link2H_4_0020"> </a>
+</p>
+<div style="height: 4em;">
+<br /><br /><br /><br />
+</div>
+<h2>
+Section 20
+</h2>
+<p>
+It was fortunate that this was the day of Peter&rsquo;s meeting with McGivney.
+He could really not have kept this wonderful secret to himself over night.
+He made excuses to the girls, and dodged thru the chicken-yard as before,
+and made his way to the American House. As he walked, Peter&rsquo;s mind was
+working busily. He had really got his grip on the ladder of prosperity
+now; he must not fail to tighten it.
+</p>
+<p>
+McGivney saw right away from Peter&rsquo;s face that something had happened.
+&ldquo;Well?&rdquo; he inquired.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;I&rsquo;ve got it!&rdquo; exclaimed Peter.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Got what?&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;The name of the spy in the jail.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Christ! You don&rsquo;t mean it!&rdquo; cried the other.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;No doubt about it,&rdquo; answered Peter.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Who is he?&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+Peter clenched his hands and summoned his resolution. &ldquo;First,&rdquo; he said,
+&ldquo;you and me got to have an understanding. Mr. Guffey said I was to be
+paid, but he didn&rsquo;t say how much, or when.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Oh, hell!&rdquo; said McGivney. &ldquo;If you&rsquo;ve got the name of that spy, you don&rsquo;t
+need to worry about your reward.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Well, that&rsquo;s all right,&rdquo; said Peter, &ldquo;but I&rsquo;d like to know what I&rsquo;m to
+get and how I&rsquo;m to get it.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;How much do you want?&rdquo; demanded the man with the face of a rat. Rat-like,
+he was retreating into a corner, his sharp black eyes watching his enemy.
+&ldquo;How much?&rdquo; he repeated.
+</p>
+<p>
+Peter had tried his best to rise to this occasion. Was he not working for
+the greatest and richest concern in American City, the Traction Trust?
+Tens and hundreds of millions of dollars they were worth&mdash;he had no
+idea how much, but he knew they could afford to pay for his secret. &ldquo;I
+think it ought to be worth two hundred dollars,&rdquo; he said.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Sure,&rdquo; said McGivney, &ldquo;that&rsquo;s all right. We&rsquo;ll pay you that.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+And straightway Peter&rsquo;s heart sank. What a fool he had been! Why hadn&rsquo;t he
+had more courage, and asked for five hundred dollars? He might even have
+asked a thousand, and made himself independent for life!
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Well,&rdquo; said McGivney, &ldquo;who&rsquo;s the spy?&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+Peter made an agonizing, effort, and summoned yet more nerve. &ldquo;First, I
+got to know, when do I get that money?&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Oh, good God!&rdquo; said McGivney. &ldquo;You give us the information, and you&rsquo;ll
+get your money all right. What kind of cheap skates do you take us for?&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Well, that&rsquo;s all right,&rdquo; said Peter. &ldquo;But you know, Mr. Guffey didn&rsquo;t
+give me any reason to think he loved me. I still can hardly use this wrist
+like I used to.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Well, he was trying to get some information out of you,&rdquo; said McGivney.
+&ldquo;He thought you were one of them dynamiters&mdash;how could you blame him?
+You give me the name of that spy, and I&rsquo;ll see you get your money.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+But still Peter wouldn&rsquo;t yield. He was afraid of the rat-faced McGivney,
+and his heart was thumping fast, but he stood his ground. &ldquo;I think I ought
+to see that money,&rdquo; he said, doggedly.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Say, what the hell do you take me for?&rdquo; demanded the detective. &ldquo;D&rsquo;you
+suppose I&rsquo;m going to give you two hundred dollars and then have you give
+me some fake name and skip?&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Oh, I wouldn&rsquo;t do that!&rdquo; cried Peter.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;How do I know you wouldn&rsquo;t?&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Well, I want to go on working for you.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Sure, and we want you to go on working for us. This ain&rsquo;t the last secret
+we&rsquo;ll get from you, and you&rsquo;ll find we play straight with our people&mdash;how&rsquo;d
+we ever get anywheres otherwise? There&rsquo;s a million dollars been put up to
+hang that Goober crowd, and if you deliver the goods, you&rsquo;ll get your
+share, and get it right on time.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+He spoke with conviction, and Peter was partly persuaded. But most of
+Peter&rsquo;s lifetime had been spent in watching people bargaining with one
+another&mdash;watching scoundrels trying to outwit one another&mdash;and
+when it was a question of some money to be got, Peter was like a bulldog
+that has got his teeth fixed tight in another dog&rsquo;s nose; he doesn&rsquo;t
+consider the other dog&rsquo;s feelings, nor does he consider whether the other
+dog admires him or not.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;On time?&rdquo; said Peter. &ldquo;What do you mean by &lsquo;on time&rsquo;?&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Oh, my God!&rdquo; said McGivney, in disgust.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Well, but I want to know,&rdquo; said Peter. &ldquo;D&rsquo;you mean when I give the name,
+or d&rsquo;you mean after you&rsquo;ve gone and found out whether he really is the spy
+or not?&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+So they worried back and forth, these snarling bulldogs, growing more and
+more angry. But Peter was the one who had got his teeth in, and Peter hung
+on. Once McGivney hinted quite plainly that the great Traction Trust had
+had power enough to shut Peter in the &ldquo;hole&rdquo; on two occasions and keep him
+there, and it might have power enough to do it a third time. Peter&rsquo;s heart
+failed with terror, but all the same, he hung on to McGivney&rsquo;s nose.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;All right,&rdquo; said the rat-faced man, at last. He said it in a tone of
+wearied scorn; but that didn&rsquo;t worry Peter a particle. &ldquo;All right, I&rsquo;ll
+take a chance with you.&rdquo; And he reached into his pocket and pulled out a
+roll of bills&mdash;twenty dollar bills they were, and he counted out ten
+of them. Peter saw that there was still a lot left to the roll, and knew
+that he hadn&rsquo;t asked as much money as McGivney had been prepared to have
+him ask; so his heart was sick within him. At the same time his heart was
+leaping with exultation&mdash;such a strange thing is the human heart!
+</p>
+<p>
+<br /><br />
+</p>
+<hr />
+<p>
+<a name="link2H_4_0021" id="link2H_4_0021"> </a>
+</p>
+<div style="height: 4em;">
+<br /><br /><br /><br />
+</div>
+<h2>
+Section 21
+</h2>
+<p>
+McGivney laid the money on the bed. &ldquo;There it is,&rdquo; he said, &ldquo;and if you
+give me the name of the spy you can take it. But you&rsquo;d better take my
+advice and not spend it, because if it turns out that you haven&rsquo;t got the
+spy, by God, I believe Ed Guffey&rsquo;d twist the arms out of you!&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+Peter was easy about that. &ldquo;I know he&rsquo;s the spy all right.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Well, who is he?&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;He&rsquo;s Jack Ibbetts.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;The devil you say!&rdquo; cried McGivney, incredulously.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Jack Ibbetts, one of the night keepers in the jail.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;I know him,&rdquo; said the other. &ldquo;But what put that notion into your head?&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;He&rsquo;s a cousin of the Todd sisters.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Who are the Todd sisters?&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Jennie Todd is my girl,&rdquo; said Peter.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Girl!&rdquo; echoed the other; he stared at Peter, and a grin spread over his
+face. &ldquo;You got a girl in two weeks? I didn&rsquo;t know you had it in you!&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+It was a doubtful compliment, but Peter&rsquo;s smile was no less expansive, and
+showed all his crooked teeth. &ldquo;I got her all right,&rdquo; he said, &ldquo;and she
+blabbed it out the first thing&mdash;that Ibbetts was her cousin. And then
+she was scared, because Andrews, the lawyer, had made her and her sister
+swear they wouldn&rsquo;t mention his name to a soul. So you see, they&rsquo;re using
+him for a spy&mdash;there ain&rsquo;t a particle of doubt about it.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Good God!&rdquo; said McGivney, and there was genuine dismay in his tone.
+&ldquo;Who&rsquo;d think it possible? Why, Ibbetts is as decent a fellow as ever you
+talked to&mdash;and him a Red, and a traitor at that! You know, that&rsquo;s
+what makes it the devil trying to handle these Reds&mdash;you never can
+tell who they&rsquo;ll get; you never know who to trust. How, d&rsquo;you suppose they
+manage it?&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;I dunno,&rdquo; said Peter. &ldquo;There&rsquo;s a sucker born every minute, you know!&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Well, anyhow, I see you ain&rsquo;t one of &lsquo;em,&rdquo; said the rat-faced man, as he
+watched Peter take the roll of bills from the bed and tuck them away in an
+inside pocket.
+</p>
+<p>
+<br /><br />
+</p>
+<hr />
+<p>
+<a name="link2H_4_0022" id="link2H_4_0022"> </a>
+</p>
+<div style="height: 4em;">
+<br /><br /><br /><br />
+</div>
+<h2>
+Section 22
+</h2>
+<p>
+Peter was warned by the rat-faced man that he must be careful how he spent
+any of that money. Nothing would be more certain to bring suspicion on him
+than to have it whispered about that he was &ldquo;in funds.&rdquo; He must be able to
+show how he had come honestly by everything he had. And Peter agreed to
+that; he would hide the money away in a safe place until he was thru with
+his job.
+</p>
+<p>
+Then he in turn proceeded to warn McGivney. If they were to fire Ibbetts
+from his job, it would certainly cause talk, and might direct suspicion
+against Peter. McGivney answered with a smile that he wasn&rsquo;t born
+yesterday. They would &ldquo;promote&rdquo; Jack Ibbetts, giving him some job where he
+couldn&rsquo;t get any news about the Goober case; then, after a bit, they would
+catch him up on some mistake, or get him into some trouble, and fire him.
+</p>
+<p>
+At this meeting, and at later meetings, Peter and the rat-faced man talked
+out every aspect of the Goober case, which was becoming more and more
+complicated, and bigger as a public issue. New people were continually
+being involved, and new problems continually arising; it was more
+fascinating than a game of chess. McGivney had spoken the literal truth
+when he said that the big business interests of American City had put up a
+million dollars to hang Goober and his crowd. At the very beginning there
+had been offered seventeen thousand dollars in rewards for information,
+and these rewards naturally had many claimants. The trouble was that
+people who wanted this money generally had records that wouldn&rsquo;t go well
+before a jury; the women nearly always turned out to be prostitutes, and
+the men to be ex-convicts, forgers, gamblers, or what not. Sometimes they
+didn&rsquo;t tell their past records until the other side unearthed them, and
+then it was necessary to doctor court records, and pull wires all over the
+country.
+</p>
+<p>
+There were a dozen such witnesses as this in the Goober case. They had
+told their stories before the grand jury, and innumerable flaws and
+discrepancies had been discovered, which made more work and trouble for
+Guffey and his lieutenants. Thru a miserable mischance it happened that
+Jim Goober and his wife had been watching the parade from the roof of a
+building a couple of miles away, at the very hour when they were accused
+of having planted the suit-case with the bomb in it. Somebody had taken a
+photograph of the parade from this roof, which showed both Goober and his
+wife looking over, and also a big clock in front of a jewelry store,
+plainly indicating the very minute. Fortunately the prosecution got hold
+of this photograph first; but now the defense had learned of its
+existence, and was trying to get a look at it. The prosecution didn&rsquo;t dare
+destroy it, because its existence could be proven; but they had
+photographed the photograph, and re-photographed that, until they had the
+face of the clock so dim that the time could not be seen. Now the defense
+was trying to get evidence that this trick had been worked.
+</p>
+<p>
+Then there were all the witnesses for the defense. Thru another mischance
+it had happened that half a dozen different people had seen the bomb
+thrown from the roof of Guggenheim&rsquo;s Department Store; which entirely
+contradicted the suit-case theory upon which the prosecution was based. So
+now it was necessary to &ldquo;reach&rdquo; these various witnesses. One perhaps had a
+mortgage on his home which could be bought and foreclosed; another perhaps
+had a wife who wanted to divorce him, and could be persuaded to help get
+him into trouble. Or perhaps he was engaged in an intrigue with some other
+man&rsquo;s wife; or perhaps some woman could be sent to draw him into an
+intrigue.
+</p>
+<p>
+Then again, it appeared that very soon after the explosion some of
+Guffey&rsquo;s men had taken a sledge hammer and smashed the sidewalk, also the
+wall of the building where the explosion had taken place. This was to fit
+in with the theory of the suit-case bomb, and they had taken a number of
+photographs of the damage. But now it transpired that somebody had taken a
+photograph of the spot before this extra damage had been done, and that
+the defense was in possession of this photograph. Who had taken this
+photograph, and how could he be &ldquo;fixed&rdquo;? If Peter could help in such
+matters, he would come out of the Goober case a rich man.
+</p>
+<p>
+Peter would go away from these meetings with McGivney with his head full
+of visions, and would concentrate all his faculties upon the collecting of
+information. He and Jennie and Sadie talked about the case incessantly,
+and Jennie and Sadie would tell freely everything they had heard outside.
+Others would come in&mdash;young McCormick, and Miriam Yankovitch, and
+Miss Nebbins, the secretary to Andrews, and they would tell what they had
+learned and what they suspected, and what the defense was hoping to find
+out. They got hold of a cousin of the man who had taken the photograph on
+the roof; they were working on him, to get him to persuade the
+photographer to tell the truth. Next day Donald Gordon would come in, cast
+down with despair, because it had been learned that one of the most
+valuable witnesses of the defense, a groceryman, had once pleaded guilty
+to selling spoilt cheese! Thus every evening, before he went to sleep,
+Peter would jot down notes, and sew them up inside his jacket, and once a
+week he would go to the meeting with McGivney, and the two would argue and
+bargain over the value of Peter&rsquo;s news.
+</p>
+<p>
+<br /><br />
+</p>
+<hr />
+<p>
+<a name="link2H_4_0023" id="link2H_4_0023"> </a>
+</p>
+<div style="height: 4em;">
+<br /><br /><br /><br />
+</div>
+<h2>
+Section 23
+</h2>
+<p>
+It had become a fascinating game, and Peter would never have tired of it,
+but for the fact that he had to stay all day in the house with little
+Jennie. A honeymoon is all right for a few weeks, but no man can stand it
+forever. Little Jennie apparently never tired of being kissed, and never
+seemed satisfied that Peter thoroughly loved her. A man got thru with his
+love-making after awhile, but a woman, it appeared, never knew how to drop
+the subject; she was always looking before and after, and figuring
+consequences and responsibilities, her duty and her reputation and all the
+rest of it. Which, of course, was a bore.
+</p>
+<p>
+Jennie was unhappy because she was deceiving Sadie; she wanted to tell
+Sadie, and yet somehow it was easier to go on concealing than admit that
+one had concealed. Peter didn&rsquo;t see why Sadie had to be told at all; he
+didn&rsquo;t see why things couldn&rsquo;t stay just as they were, and why he and his
+sweetheart couldn&rsquo;t have some fun now and then, instead of always being
+sentimental, always having agonies over the class war, to say nothing of
+the world war, and the prospects of America becoming involved in it.
+</p>
+<p>
+This did not mean that Peter was hard and feelingless. No, when Peter
+clasped trembling little Jennie in his arms he was very deeply moved; he
+had a real sense of what a gentle and good little soul she was. He would
+have been glad to help her&mdash;but what could he do about it? The
+situation was such that he could not plead with her, he could not try to
+change her; he had to give himself up to all her crazy whims and pretend
+to agree with her. Little Jennie was by her weakness marked for
+destruction, and what good would it do for him to go to destruction along
+with her?
+</p>
+<p>
+Peter understood clearly that there are two kinds of people in the world,
+those who eat, and those who are eaten; and it was his intention to stay
+among the former, group. Peter had come in his twenty years of life to a
+definite understanding of the things called &ldquo;ideas&rdquo; and &ldquo;causes&rdquo; and
+&ldquo;religions.&rdquo; They were bait to catch suckers; and there is a continual
+competition between the suckers, who of course don&rsquo;t want to be caught,
+and those people of superior wits who want to catch them, and therefore
+are continually inventing new and more plausible and alluring kinds of
+bait. Peter had by now heard enough of the jargon of the &ldquo;comrades&rdquo; to
+realize that theirs was an especially effective kind; and here was poor
+little Jennie, stuck fast on the hook, and what could Peter do about it?
+</p>
+<p>
+Yet, this was Peter&rsquo;s first love, and when he was deeply thrilled, he
+understood the truth of Guffey&rsquo;s saying that a man in love wants to tell
+the truth. Peter would have the impulse to say to her: &ldquo;Oh, drop all that
+preaching, and give yourself a rest! Let&rsquo;s you and me enjoy life a bit.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+Yes, it would be all he could do to keep from saying this&mdash;despite
+the fact that he knew it would ruin everything. Once little Jennie
+appeared in a new silk dress, brought to her by one of the rich ladies
+whose heart was touched by her dowdy appearance. It was of soft grey silk&mdash;cheap
+silk, but fresh and new, and Peter had never had anything so fine in his
+arms before. It matched Jennie&rsquo;s grey eyes, and its freshness gave her a
+pink glow; or was it that Peter admired her, and loved her more, and so
+brought the blood to her cheeks? Peter had an impulse to take her out and
+show her off, and he pressed his face into the soft folds of the dress and
+whispered, &ldquo;Say kid, some day you an me got to cut all this hard luck
+business for a bit!&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+He felt little Jennie stiffen, and draw away from him; so quickly he had
+to set to work to patch up the damage. &ldquo;I want you to get well,&rdquo; he
+pleaded. &ldquo;You&rsquo;re so good to everybody&mdash;you treat everybody well but
+yourself!&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+It had been something in his tone rather than his actual words that had
+frightened the girl. &ldquo;Oh Peter!&rdquo; she cried. &ldquo;What does it matter about me,
+or about any other one person, when millions of young men are being shot
+to fragments, and millions of women and children are starving to death!&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+So there they were, fighting the war again; Peter had to take up her
+burden, be a hero, and a martyr, and a &ldquo;Red.&rdquo; That same afternoon, as fate
+willed it, three &ldquo;wobblies&rdquo; out of a job came to call; and oh, how tired
+Peter was of these wandering agitators&mdash;insufferable &ldquo;grouches!&rdquo;
+ Peter would want to say: &ldquo;Oh, cut it out! What you call your &lsquo;cause&rsquo; is
+nothing but your scheme to work with your tongues instead of with a pick
+and a shovel.&rdquo; And this would start an imaginary quarrel in Peter&rsquo;s mind.
+He would hear one of the fellows demanding, &ldquo;How much pick and shovel work
+you ever done?&rdquo; Another saying, &ldquo;Looks to me like you been finding the
+easy jobs wherever you go!&rdquo; The fact that this was true did not make
+Peter&rsquo;s irritation any less, did not make it easier for him to meet with
+Comrade Smith, and Brother Jones, and Fellow-worker Brown just out of
+jail, and listen to their hard-luck stories, and watch them take from the
+table food that Peter wanted, and&mdash;the bitterest pill of all&mdash;let
+them think that they were fooling him with their patter!
+</p>
+<p>
+The time came when Peter wasn&rsquo;t able to stand it any longer. Shut up in
+the house all day, he was becoming as irritable as a chained dog. Unless
+he could get out in the world again, he would surely give himself away. He
+pleaded that the doctors had warned him that his health would not stand
+indoor life; he must get some fresh air. So he got away by himself, and
+after that he found things much easier. He could spend a little of his
+money; he could find a quiet corner in a restaurant and get himself a
+beefsteak, and eat all he wanted of it, without feeling the eyes of any
+&ldquo;comrades&rdquo; resting upon him reprovingly. Peter had lived in a jail, and in
+an orphan asylum, and in the home of Shoemaker Smithers, but nowhere had
+he fared so meagerly as in the home of the Todd sisters, who were
+contributing nearly everything they owned to the Goober defense, and to
+the &ldquo;Clarion,&rdquo; the Socialist paper of American City.
+</p>
+<p>
+<br /><br />
+</p>
+<hr />
+<p>
+<a name="link2H_4_0024" id="link2H_4_0024"> </a>
+</p>
+<div style="height: 4em;">
+<br /><br /><br /><br />
+</div>
+<h2>
+Section 24
+</h2>
+<p>
+Peter went to see Andrews, the lawyer, and asked for a job; he wanted to
+be active in the case, he said, so he was set to work in the offices of
+the Defense Committee, where he heard people talking about the case all
+day, and he could pick up no end of valuable tips. He made himself
+agreeable and gained friends; before long he was intimate with one of the
+best witnesses of the defense, and discovered that this man had once been
+named as co-respondent in a divorce case. Peter found out the name of the
+woman, and Guffey set to work to bring her to American City. The job was
+to be done cleverly, without the woman&rsquo;s even knowing that she was being
+used. She would have a little holiday, and the spell of old love would
+reassert itself, and Guffey would have a half dozen men to spring the trap&mdash;and
+there would be a star witness of the Goober defense clean down and out!
+&ldquo;There&rsquo;s always something you can get them on!&rdquo; said McGivney, and
+cheerfully paid Peter Gudge five hundred dollars for the information he
+had brought.
+</p>
+<p>
+Peter would have been wildly happy, but just at this moment a dreadful
+calamity befell him. Jennie had been talking about marriage more and more,
+and now she revealed to him a reason which made marriage imperative. She
+revealed it with downcast eyes, with blushes and trembling; and Peter was
+so overcome with consternation that he could not play the part that was
+expected of him. Hitherto in these love crises he had caught Jennie in his
+arms and comforted her; but now for a moment he let her see his real
+emotions.
+</p>
+<p>
+Jennie promptly had a fit. What was the matter with him? Didn&rsquo;t he mean to
+marry her, as he had promised? Surely he must realize now that they could
+no longer delay! And Peter, who was not familiar with the symptoms of
+hysterics, lost his head completely and could think of nothing to do but
+rush out of the house and slam the door.
+</p>
+<p>
+The more he considered it, the more clearly he realized that he was in the
+devil of a predicament. As a servant of the Traction Trust, he had taken
+it for granted that he was immune to all legal penalties and obligations;
+but here, he had a feeling, was a trouble from which the powerful ones of
+the city would be unable to shield their agent. Were they able to arrange
+it so that one could marry a girl, and then get out of it when one&rsquo;s job
+was done?
+</p>
+<p>
+Peter was so uneasy that he had to call up the office of Guffey and get
+hold of McGivney. This was dangerous, because the prosecution was tapping
+telephone wires, and they feared the defense might be doing the same. But
+Peter took a chance; he told McGivney to come and meet him at the usual
+place; and there they argued the matter out, and Peter&rsquo;s worst fears were
+confirmed. When he put the proposition up to McGivney, the rat-faced man
+guffawed in his face. He found it so funny that he did not stop laughing
+until he saw that he was putting his spy into a rage.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;What&rsquo;s the joke?&rdquo; demanded Peter. &ldquo;If I&rsquo;m ruined, where&rsquo;ll you get any
+more information?&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;But, my God!&rdquo; said McGivney. &ldquo;What did you have to go and get that kind
+of a girl for?&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;I had to take what I could,&rdquo; answered Peter. &ldquo;Besides, they&rsquo;re all alike&mdash;they
+get into trouble, and you can&rsquo;t help it.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Sure, you can help it!&rdquo; said McGivney. &ldquo;Why didn&rsquo;t you ask long ago? Now
+if you&rsquo;ve got yourself tied up with a marrying proposition, it&rsquo;s your own
+lookout; you can&rsquo;t put it off on me.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+They argued back and forth. The rat-faced man was positive that there was
+no way Peter could pretend to marry Jennie and not have the marriage
+count. He might get himself into no end of trouble and certainly he would
+be ruined as a spy. What he must do was to pay the girl some money and
+send her somewhere to get fixed up. McGivney would find out the name of a
+doctor to do the job.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Yes, but what excuse can I give her?&rdquo; cried Peter. &ldquo;I mean, why I don&rsquo;t
+marry her!&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Make something up,&rdquo; said McGivney. &ldquo;Why not have a wife already?&rdquo; Then,
+seeing Peter&rsquo;s look of dismay: &ldquo;Sure, you can fix that. I&rsquo;ll get you one,
+if you need her. But you won&rsquo;t have to take that trouble&mdash;just tell
+your girl a hard luck story. You&rsquo;ve got a wife, you thought you could get
+free from her, but now you find you can&rsquo;t; your wife&rsquo;s got wind of what
+you&rsquo;re doing here, and she&rsquo;s trying to blackmail you. Fix it up so your
+girl can&rsquo;t do anything on account of hurting the Goober defense. If she&rsquo;s
+really sincere about it, she won&rsquo;t disgrace you; maybe she won&rsquo;t even tell
+her sister.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+Peter hated to do anything like that. He had a vision of little Jennie
+lying on the sofa in hysterics as he had left her, and he dreaded the long
+emotional scene that would be necessary. However, it seemed that he must
+go thru with it; there was no better way that he could think of. Also, he
+must be quick, because in a couple of hours Sadie would be coming home
+from work, and it might be too late.
+</p>
+<p>
+<br /><br />
+</p>
+<hr />
+<p>
+<a name="link2H_4_0025" id="link2H_4_0025"> </a>
+</p>
+<div style="height: 4em;">
+<br /><br /><br /><br />
+</div>
+<h2>
+Section 25
+</h2>
+<p>
+Peter hurried back to the Todd home, and there was white-faced little
+Jennie lying on the bed, still sobbing. One would think she might have
+used up her surplus stock of emotions; but no, there is never any limit to
+the emotions a woman can pour out. As soon as Peter had got fairly started
+on the humiliating confession that he had a wife, little Jennie sprang up
+from the bed with a terrified shriek, and confronted him with a face like
+the ghost of an escaped lunatic. Peter tried to explain that it wasn&rsquo;t his
+fault, he had really expected to be free any day. But Jennie only clasped
+her hands to her forehead and screamed: &ldquo;You have deceived me! You have
+betrayed me!&rdquo; It was just like a scene in the movies, the bored little
+devil inside Peter was whispering.
+</p>
+<p>
+He tried to take her hand and reason with her, but she sprang away from
+him, she rushed to the other side of the room and stood there, staring at
+him as if she were some wild thing that he had in a corner and was
+threatening to kill. She made so much noise that he was afraid that she
+would bring the neighbors in; he had to point out to her that if this
+matter became public he would be ruined forever as a witness, and thus she
+might be the means of sending Jim Goober to the gallows.
+</p>
+<p>
+Thereupon Jennie fell silent, and it was possible for Peter to get in a
+word. He told her of the intrigues against him; the other side had sent
+somebody to him and offered him ten thousand dollars if he would sell out
+the Goober defense. Now, since he had refused, they were trying to
+blackmail him, using his wife. They had somehow come to suspect that he
+was involved in a love affair, and this was to be the means of ruining
+him.
+</p>
+<p>
+Jennie still would not let Peter touch, her, but she consented to sit down
+quietly in a chair, and figure out what they were going to do. Whatever
+happened, she said, they must do no harm to the Goober case. Peter had
+done her a monstrous wrong in keeping the truth from her, but she would
+suffer the penalty, whatever it might be; she would never involve him.
+</p>
+<p>
+Peter started to explain; perhaps it wasn&rsquo;t so serious as she feared. He
+had been thinking things over; he knew where Pericles Priam, his old
+employer, was living, and Pericles was rich now, and Peter felt sure that
+he could borrow two hundred dollars, and there were places where little
+Jennie could go&mdash;there were ways to get out of this trouble&mdash;
+</p>
+<p>
+But little Jennie stopped him. She was only a child in some ways, but in
+others she was a mature woman. She had strange fixed ideas, and when you
+ran into them it was like running into a stone wall. She would not hear of
+the idea Peter suggested; it would be murder.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Nonsense,&rdquo; said Peter, echoing McGivney. &ldquo;It&rsquo;s nothing; everybody does
+it.&rdquo; But Jennie was apparently not listening. She sat staring with her
+wild, terrified eyes, and pulling at her dress with her fingers. Peter got
+to watching these fingers, and they got on his nerves. They behaved like
+insane fingers; they manifested all the emotions which the rest of little
+Jennie was choking back and repressing.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;If you would only not take it so seriously!&rdquo; Peter pleaded. &ldquo;It&rsquo;s a
+miserable accident, but it&rsquo;s happened, and now we&rsquo;ve got to make the best
+of it. Some day I&rsquo;ll get free; some day I&rsquo;ll marry you.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Stop, Peter!&rdquo; the girl whispered, in her tense voice. &ldquo;I don&rsquo;t want to
+talk to you any more, if that&rsquo;s all you have to say. I don&rsquo;t know that I&rsquo;d
+be willing to marry you&mdash;now that I know you could deceive me&mdash;that
+you could go on deceiving me day after day for months.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+Peter thought she was going to break out into hysterics again, and he was
+frightened. He tried to plead with her, but suddenly she sprang up. &ldquo;Go
+away!&rdquo; she exclaimed. &ldquo;Please go away and let me alone. I&rsquo;ll think it over
+and decide what to do myself. Whatever I do, I won&rsquo;t disgrace you, so
+leave me alone, go quickly!&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+<br /><br />
+</p>
+<hr />
+<p>
+<a name="link2H_4_0026" id="link2H_4_0026"> </a>
+</p>
+<div style="height: 4em;">
+<br /><br /><br /><br />
+</div>
+<h2>
+Section 26
+</h2>
+<p>
+She drove him out of the house, and Peter went, though with many
+misgivings. He wandered about the streets, not knowing what to do with
+himself, looking back over the blunders he had made and tormenting himself
+with that most tormenting of all thoughts: how different my life might
+have been, if only I had had sense enough to do this, or not to do that!
+Dinner time came, and Peter blew himself to a square meal, but even that
+did not comfort him entirely. He pictured Sadie coming home at this hour.
+Was Jennie telling her or not?
+</p>
+<p>
+There was a big mass meeting called by the Goober Defense Committee that
+evening, and Peter attended, and it proved to be the worst thing he could
+have done. His mind was in no condition to encounter the fierce passions
+of this crowded assemblage. Peter had the picture of himself being exposed
+and denounced; he wasn&rsquo;t sure yet that it mightn&rsquo;t happen to him. And here
+was this meeting&mdash;thousands of workingmen, horny handed blacksmiths,
+longshoremen with shoulders like barns and truckmen with fists like
+battering rams, long-haired radicals of a hundred dangerous varieties,
+women who waved red handkerchiefs and shrieked until to Peter they seemed
+like gorgons with snakes instead of hair.
+</p>
+<p>
+Such were the mob-frenzies engendered by the Goober case; and Peter knew,
+of course, that to all these people he was a traitor, a poisonous worm, a
+snake in the grass. If ever they were to find out what he was doing&mdash;if
+for instance, someone were to rise up and expose him to this crowd&mdash;they
+would seize him and tear him to pieces. And maybe, right now, little
+Jennie was telling Sadie; and Sadie would tell Andrews, and Andrews would
+become suspicious, and set spies on Peter Gudge! Maybe they had spies on
+him already, and knew of his meetings with McGivney!
+</p>
+<p>
+Haunted by such terrors, Peter had to listen to the tirades of Donald
+Gordon, of John Durand, and of Sorensen, the longshoremen&rsquo;s leader. He had
+to listen to exposure after exposure of the tricks which Guffey had
+played; he had to hear the district attorney of the county denounced as a
+suborner of perjury, and his agents as blackmailers and forgers. Peter
+couldn&rsquo;t understand why such things should be permitted&mdash;why these
+speakers were not all clapped into jail. But instead, he had to sit there
+and listen; he even had to applaud and pretend to approve! All the other
+secret operatives of the Traction Trust and of the district attorney&rsquo;s
+office had to listen and pretend to approve! In the hall Peter had met
+Miriam Yankovich, and was sitting next to her. &ldquo;Look,&rdquo; she said, &ldquo;there&rsquo;s
+a couple of dicks over there. Look at the mugs on them!&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Which?&rdquo; said Peter.
+</p>
+<p>
+And she answered: &ldquo;That fellow that looks like a bruiser, and that one
+next to him, with the face of a rat.&rdquo; Peter looked, and saw that it was
+McGivney; and McGivney looked at Peter, but gave no sign.
+</p>
+<p>
+The meeting lasted until nearly midnight. It subscribed several thousand
+dollars to the Goober defense fund, and adopted ferocious resolutions
+which it ordered printed and sent to every local of every labor union in
+the country. Peter got out before it was over, because he could no longer
+stand the strain of his own fears and anxieties. He pushed his way thru
+the crowd, and in the lobby he ran into Pat McCormick, the I. W. W.
+leader.
+</p>
+<p>
+There was more excitement in this boy&rsquo;s grim face than Peter had ever seen
+there before. Peter thought it was the meeting, but the other rushed up to
+him, exclaiming: &ldquo;Have you heard the news?&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;What news?&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Little Jennie Todd has killed herself!&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;My God!&rdquo; gasped Peter, starting back.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Ada Ruth just told me. Sadie found a note when she got home. Jennie had
+left&mdash;she was going to drown herself.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;But what&mdash;why?&rdquo; cried Peter, in horror.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;She was suffering so, her health was so wretched, she begs Sadie not to
+look for her body, not to make a fuss&mdash;they&rsquo;ll never find her.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+And horrified and stunned as Peter was, there was something inside him
+that drew a deep breath of relief. Little Jennie had kept her promise!
+Peter was, safe!
+</p>
+<p>
+<br /><br />
+</p>
+<hr />
+<p>
+<a name="link2H_4_0027" id="link2H_4_0027"> </a>
+</p>
+<div style="height: 4em;">
+<br /><br /><br /><br />
+</div>
+<h2>
+Section 27
+</h2>
+<p>
+Yes, Peter was safe, but it had been a close call, and he still had
+painful scenes to play his part in. He had to go back to the Todd home and
+meet the frantic Sadie, and weep and be horrified with the rest of them.
+It would have been suspicious if he had not done this; the &ldquo;comrades&rdquo;
+ would never have forgiven him. Then to his dismay, he found that Sadie had
+somehow come to a positive conviction as to Jennie&rsquo;s trouble. She penned
+Peter up in a corner and accused him of being responsible; and there was
+poor Peter, protesting vehemently that he was innocent, and wishing that
+the floor would open up and swallow him.
+</p>
+<p>
+In the midst of his protestations a clever scheme occurred to him. He
+lowered his voice in shame. There was a man, a young man, who used to come
+to see Jennie off and on. &ldquo;Jennie asked me not to tell.&rdquo; Peter hesitated a
+moment, and added his master-stroke. &ldquo;Jennie explained to me that she was
+a free-lover; she told me all about free love. I told her I didn&rsquo;t believe
+in it, but you know, Sadie, when Jennie believed in anything, she would
+stand by it and act on it. So I felt certain it wouldn&rsquo;t do any good for
+me to butt in.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+Sadie almost went out of her mind at this. She glared at Peter.
+&ldquo;Slanderer! Devil!&rdquo; she cried. &ldquo;Who was this man?&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+Peter answered, &ldquo;He went by the name of Ned. That&rsquo;s what Jennie called
+him. It wasn&rsquo;t my business to pin her down about him.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;It wasn&rsquo;t your business to look out for an innocent child?&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Jennie herself said she wasn&rsquo;t an innocent child, she knew exactly what
+she was doing&mdash;all Socialists did it.&rdquo; And to this parting shot he
+added that he hadn&rsquo;t thought it was decent, when he was a guest in a home,
+to spy on the morals of the people in it. When Sadie persisted in doubting
+him, and even in calling him names, he took the easiest way out of the
+difficulty&mdash;fell into a rage and stormed out of the house.
+</p>
+<p>
+Peter felt pretty certain that Sadie would not spread the story very far;
+it was too disgraceful to her sister and to herself; and maybe when she
+had thought it over she might come to believe Peter&rsquo;s story; maybe she
+herself was a &ldquo;free lover.&rdquo; McGivney had certainly said that all
+Socialists were, and he had been studying them a lot. Anyhow, Sadie would
+have to think first of the Goober case, just as little Jennie had done.
+Peter had them there all right, and realized that he could afford to be
+forgiving, so he went to the telephone and called up Sadie and said: &ldquo;I
+want you to know that I&rsquo;m not going to say anything about this story; it
+won&rsquo;t become known except thru you.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+There were half a dozen people whom Sadie must have told. Miss Nebbins was
+icy-cold to Peter the next time he came in to see Mr. Andrews; also Miriam
+Yankovich lost her former cordiality, and several other women treated him
+with studied reserve. But the only person who spoke about the matter was
+Pat McCormick, the I. W. W. boy who had given Peter the news of little
+Jennie&rsquo;s suicide. Perhaps Peter hadn&rsquo;t been able to act satisfactorily on
+that occasion; or perhaps the young fellow had observed something for
+himself, some love-glances between Peter and Jennie. Peter had never felt
+comfortable in the presence of this silent Irish boy, whose dark eyes
+would roam from one person to another in the room, and seemed to be
+probing your most secret thoughts.
+</p>
+<p>
+Now Peter&rsquo;s worst fears were justified. &ldquo;Mac&rdquo; got him off in a corner, and
+put his fist under his nose, and told him that he was &ldquo;a dirty hound,&rdquo; and
+if it hadn&rsquo;t been for the Goober case, he, &ldquo;Mac,&rdquo; would kill him without a
+moment&rsquo;s concern.
+</p>
+<p>
+And Peter did not dare open his mouth; the look on the Irishman&rsquo;s face was
+so fierce that he was really afraid for his life. God, what a hateful lot
+these Reds were! And now here was Peter with the worst one of all against
+him! From now on his life would be in danger from this maniac Irishman!
+Peter hated him&mdash;so heartily and genuinely that it served to divert
+his thoughts from little Jennie, and to make him regard himself as a
+victim.
+</p>
+<p>
+Yes, in the midnight hours when Jennie&rsquo;s gentle little face haunted him
+and his conscience attacked him, Peter looked back upon the tangled web of
+events, and saw quite clearly how inevitable this tragedy had been, how
+naturally it had grown out of circumstances beyond his control. The
+fearful labor struggle in American City was surely not Peter&rsquo;s fault; nor
+was it his fault that he had been drawn into it, and forced to act first
+as an unwilling witness, and then as a secret agent. Peter read the
+American City &ldquo;Times&rdquo; every morning, and knew that the cause of Goober was
+the cause of anarchy and riot, while the cause of the district attorney
+and of Guffey&rsquo;s secret service was the cause of law and order. Peter was
+doing his best in this great cause, he was following the instructions of
+those above him, and how could he be blamed because one poor weakling of a
+girl had got in the way of the great chariot of the law?
+</p>
+<p>
+Peter knew that it wasn&rsquo;t his fault; and yet grief and terror gnawed at
+him. For one thing, he missed little Jennie, he missed her by day and he
+missed her by night. He missed her gentle voice, her fluffy soft hair, her
+body in his empty arms. She was his first love, and she was gone, and it
+is human weakness to appreciate things most when they have been lost.
+</p>
+<p>
+Peter aspired to be a strong man, a &ldquo;he-man,&rdquo; according to the slang that
+was coming into fashion; he now tried to live up to that role. He didn&rsquo;t
+want to go mooning about over this accident; yet Jennie&rsquo;s face stayed with
+him&mdash;sometimes wild, as he had seen it at their last meeting,
+sometimes gentle and reproachful. Peter would remember how good she had
+been, how tender, how never-failing in instant response to an advance of
+love on his part. Where would he ever find another girl like that?
+</p>
+<p>
+Another thing troubled him especially&mdash;a strange, inexplicable thing,
+for which Peter had no words, and about which he found himself frequently
+thinking. This weak, frail slip of a girl had deliberately given her life
+for her convictions; she had died, in order that he might be saved as a
+witness for the Goobers! Of course Peter had known all along that little
+Jennie was doomed, that she was throwing herself away, that nothing could
+save her. But somehow, it does frighten the strongest heart when people
+are so fanatical as to throw away their very lives for a cause. Peter
+found himself regarding the ideas of these Reds from a new angle; before
+this they had been just a bunch of &ldquo;nuts,&rdquo; but now they seemed to him
+creatures of monstrous deformity, products of the devil, or of a God gone
+insane.
+</p>
+<p>
+<br /><br />
+</p>
+<hr />
+<p>
+<a name="link2H_4_0028" id="link2H_4_0028"> </a>
+</p>
+<div style="height: 4em;">
+<br /><br /><br /><br />
+</div>
+<h2>
+Section 28
+</h2>
+<p>
+There was only one person whom Peter could take into his confidence, and
+that was McGivney. Peter could not conceal from McGivney the fact that he
+was troubled over his bereavement; and so McGivney took him in hand and
+gave him a &ldquo;jacking up.&rdquo; It was dangerous work, this of holding down the
+Reds; dangerous, because their doctrines were so insidious, they were so
+devilishly cunning in their working upon people&rsquo;s minds. McGivney had seen
+more than one fellow start fooling with their ideas and turn into one
+himself. Peter must guard against that danger.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;It ain&rsquo;t that,&rdquo; Peter explained. &ldquo;It ain&rsquo;t their ideas. It&rsquo;s just that I
+was soft on that kid.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Well, it comes to the same thing,&rdquo; said McGivney. &ldquo;You get sorry for
+them, and the first thing you know, you&rsquo;re listening to their arguments.
+Now, Peter, you&rsquo;re one of the best men I&rsquo;ve got on this case&mdash;and
+that&rsquo;s saying a good deal, because I&rsquo;ve got charge of seventeen.&rdquo; The
+rat-faced man was watching Peter, and saw Peter flush with pleasure. Yes,
+he continued, Peter had a future before him, he would make all kinds of
+money, he would be given responsibility, a permanent position. But he
+might throw it all away if he got to fooling with these Red doctrines. And
+also, he ought to understand, he could never fool McGivney; because
+McGivney had spies on him!
+</p>
+<p>
+So Peter clenched his hands and braced himself up. Peter was a real
+&ldquo;he-man,&rdquo; and wasn&rsquo;t going to waste himself. &ldquo;It&rsquo;s just that I can&rsquo;t help
+missing the girl!&rdquo; he explained; to which the other answered: &ldquo;Well,
+that&rsquo;s only natural. What you want to do is to get yourself another one.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+Peter went on with his work in the office of the Goober Defense Committee.
+The time for the trial had come, and the struggle between the two giants
+had reached its climax. The district attorney, who was prosecuting the
+case, and who was expecting to become governor of the state on the
+strength of it, had the backing of half a dozen of the shrewdest lawyers
+in the city, their expenses being paid by the big business men. A small
+army of detectives were at work, and the court where the trial took place
+was swarming with spies and agents. Every one of the hundreds of
+prospective jurors had been investigated and card-cataloged, his every
+weakness and every prejudice recorded; not merely had his psychology been
+studied, but his financial status, and that of his relatives and friends.
+Peter had met half a dozen other agents beside McGivney, men who had come
+to question him about this or that detail; and from the conversation of
+these men he got glimpses of the endless ramifications of the case. It
+seemed to him that the whole of American City had been hired to help send
+Jim Goober to the gallows.
+</p>
+<p>
+Peter was now getting fifty dollars a week and expenses, in addition to
+special tips for valuable bits of news. Hardly a day passed that he didn&rsquo;t
+get wind of some important development, and every night he would have to
+communicate with McGivney. The prosecution had a secret office, where
+there was a telephone operator on duty, and couriers traveling to the
+district attorney&rsquo;s office and to Guffey&rsquo;s office&mdash;all this to
+forestall telephone tapping. Peter would go from the headquarters of the
+Goober Defense Committee to a telephone-booth in some hotel, and there he
+would give the secret number, and then his own number, which was six
+forty-two. Everybody concerned was known by numbers, the principal people,
+both of the prosecution and of the defense; the name &ldquo;Goober&rdquo; was never
+spoken over the phone.
+</p>
+<p>
+After the trial had got started it was hard to get anybody to work in the
+office of the Defense Committee&mdash;everybody wanted to be in court!
+Someone would come in every few minutes, with the latest reports of
+sensational developments. The prosecution had succeeded in making away
+with the police court records, proving the conviction of its star witness
+of having kept a brothel for negroes. The prosecution had introduced
+various articles alleged to have been found on the street by the police
+after the explosion; one was a spring, supposed to have been part of a
+bomb&mdash;but it turned out to be a part of a telephone! Also they had
+introduced parts of a clock&mdash;but it appeared that in their super-zeal
+they had introduced the parts of <i>two</i> clocks! There was some
+excitement like this every day.
+</p>
+<p>
+<br /><br />
+</p>
+<hr />
+<p>
+<a name="link2H_4_0029" id="link2H_4_0029"> </a>
+</p>
+<div style="height: 4em;">
+<br /><br /><br /><br />
+</div>
+<h2>
+Section 29
+</h2>
+<p>
+The time came when the prosecution closed its case, and Peter was summoned
+to the office of Andrews, to be coached in his part as a witness. He would
+be wanted in two or three days, the lawyers told him.
+</p>
+<p>
+Now Peter had never intended to appear as a witness; he had been fooling
+the defense all this time&mdash;&ldquo;stringing them along,&rdquo; as he phrased it,
+so as to keep in favor with them to the end. Meantime he had been figuring
+out how to justify his final refusal. Peter was eating his lunch when this
+plan occurred to him, and he was so much excited that he swallowed a piece
+of pie the wrong way, and had to jump up and run out of the lunch-room. It
+was his first stroke of genius; hitherto it was McGivney who had thought
+these things out, but now Peter was on the way to becoming his own boss!
+Why should he go on taking orders, when he had such brains of his own? He
+took the plan to McGivney, and McGivney called it a &ldquo;peach,&rdquo; and Peter was
+so proud he asked for a raise, and got it.
+</p>
+<p>
+This plan had the double advantage that not merely would it save Peter&rsquo;s
+prestige and reputation, among the Reds, it would ruin McCormick, who was
+one of the hardest workers for the defense, and one of the most dangerous
+Reds in American City, as well as being a personal enemy of Peter&rsquo;s.
+McGivney pulled some of his secret wires, and the American City &ldquo;Times,&rdquo;
+ in the course of its accounts of the case, mentioned a rumor that the
+defense proposed to put on the stand a man who claimed to have been
+tortured in the city jail, in an effort to make him give false testimony
+against Goober; the prosecution had investigated this man&rsquo;s record and
+discovered that only recently he had seduced a young girl, and she had
+killed herself because of his refusal to marry her. Peter took this copy
+of the American City &ldquo;Times&rdquo; to the office of David Andrews, and insisted
+upon seeing the lawyer before he went to court; he laid the item on the
+desk, and declared that there was his finish as a witness in the Goober
+case. &ldquo;It&rsquo;s a cowardly, dirty lie!&rdquo; he declared. &ldquo;And the man responsible
+for circulating it is Pat McCormick.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+Such are the burdens that fall upon the shoulders of lawyers in
+hard-fought criminal trials! Poor Andrews did his best to patch things up;
+he pleaded with Peter&mdash;if the story was false, Peter ought to be glad
+of a chance to answer his slanderers. The defense would put witnesses on
+the stand to deny it. They would produce Sadie Todd to deny it.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;But Sadie told me she suspected me!&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Yes,&rdquo; said Andrews, &ldquo;but she told me recently she wasn&rsquo;t sure.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Much good that&rsquo;ll do me!&rdquo; retorted Peter. &ldquo;They&rsquo;ll ask me if anybody ever
+accused me, and who, and I&rsquo;ll have to say McCormick, and if they put him
+on the stand, will he deny that he accused me?&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+Peter flew into a rage against McCormick; a fine sort of radical he was,
+pretending to be devoted to the cause, and having no better sense than to
+repeat a cruel slander against a comrade! Here Peter had been working on
+this case for nearly six months, working for barely enough to keep body
+and soul together, and now they expected him to go on the and have a story
+like that brought out in the papers, and have the prosecution hiring
+witnesses to prove him a villain. &ldquo;No, sir!&rdquo; said Peter. &ldquo;I&rsquo;m thru with
+this case right now. You put McCormick on the witness stand and let him
+save Goober&rsquo;s life. You can&rsquo;t use me, I&rsquo;m out!&rdquo; And shutting his ears to
+the lawyer&rsquo;s pleading, he stormed out of the office, and over to the
+office of the Goober Defense Committee, where he repeated the same scene.
+</p>
+<p>
+<br /><br />
+</p>
+<hr />
+<p>
+<a name="link2H_4_0030" id="link2H_4_0030"> </a>
+</p>
+<div style="height: 4em;">
+<br /><br /><br /><br />
+</div>
+<h2>
+Section 30
+</h2>
+<p>
+Thus Peter was done with the Goober case, and mighty glad of it he was. He
+was tired of the strain, he needed a rest and a little pleasure. He had
+his pockets stuffed with money, and a good fat bank account, and proposed
+to take things easy for the first time in his hard and lonely life.
+</p>
+<p>
+The opportunity was at hand: for he had taken McGivney&rsquo;s advise and got
+himself another girl. It was a little romance, very worldly and
+delightful. To understand it, you must know that in the judicial procedure
+of American City they used both men and women jurors; and because busy men
+of affairs did not want to waste their time in the jury-box, nor to have
+the time of their clerks and workingmen wasted, there had gradually grown
+up a class of men and women who made their living by working as jurors.
+They hung around the courthouse and were summoned on panel after panel,
+being paid six dollars a day, with numerous opportunities to make money on
+the side if they were clever.
+</p>
+<p>
+Among this group of professional jurors, there was the keenest competition
+to get into the jury-box of the Goober case. It was to be a long and
+hard-fought case, there would be a good deal of prestige attached to it,
+and also there were numerous sums of money floating round. Anybody who got
+in, and who voted right, might be sure of an income for life, to say
+nothing of a life-job as a juror if he wanted it.
+</p>
+<p>
+Peter happened to be in court while the talesmen were being questioned. A
+very charming and petite brunette&mdash;what Peter described as a &ldquo;swell
+dresser&rdquo;&mdash;was on the stand, and was cleverly trying to satisfy both
+sides. She knew nothing about the case, she had never read anything about
+it, she knew nothing and cared nothing about social problems; so she was
+accepted by the prosecution. But then the defense took her in hand, and it
+appeared that once upon a time she had been so indiscreet as to declare to
+somebody her conviction that all labor leaders ought to be stood up
+against the wall and filled with lead; so she was challenged by the
+defense, and very much chagrined she came down from the stand, and took a
+seat in the courtroom next to Peter. He saw a trace of tears in her eyes,
+and realizing her disappointment, ventured a word of sympathy. The
+acquaintance grew, and they went out to lunch together.
+</p>
+<p>
+Mrs. James was her name, and she was a widow, a grass widow as she archly
+mentioned. She was quick and lively, with brilliant white teeth, and
+cheeks with the glow of health in them; this glow came out of a little
+bottle, but Peter never guessed it. Peter had got himself a good suit of
+clothes now, and made bold to spend some money on the lunch. As it
+happened, both he and Mrs. James were thru with the Goober case; both were
+tired and wanted a change, and Peter, blushing shyly, suggested that a
+sojourn at the beach might be fun. Mrs. James agreed immediately, and the
+matter was arranged.
+</p>
+<p>
+Peter had seen enough of the detective business by this time to know what
+you can safely do, and what you had better not do. He didn&rsquo;t travel with
+his grass widow, he didn&rsquo;t pay her car-fare, nor do anything else to
+constitute her a &ldquo;white slave.&rdquo; He simply went to the beach and engaged
+himself a comfortable apartment; and next day, strolling on the board
+walk, he happened to meet the widow.
+</p>
+<p>
+So for a couple of months Peter and Mrs. James set up housekeeping
+together. It was a wonderful experience for the former, because Mrs. James
+was what is called a &ldquo;lady,&rdquo; she had rich relatives, and took pains to let
+Peter know that she had lived in luxury before her husband had run away to
+Paris with a tight-rope walker. She taught Peter all those worldly arts
+which one misses when one is brought up in an orphan asylum, and on the
+road with a patent medicine vender. Tactfully, and without hurting his
+feelings, she taught him how to hold a knife and fork, and what color tie
+to select. At the same time she managed to conduct a propaganda which
+caused him to regard himself as the most favored of mankind; he was
+overwhelmed with gratitude for every single kiss from the lips of his
+grass widow. Of course he could not expect such extraordinary favors of
+fortune without paying for them; he had learned by now that there was no
+such thing as &ldquo;free love.&rdquo; So he paid, hand over fist; he not only paid
+all the expenses of the unregistered honeymoon, he bought numerous
+expensive presents at the lady&rsquo;s tactful suggestion. She was always so
+vivacious and affectionate when Peter had given her a present! Peter lived
+in a kind of dream, his money seemed to go out of his pockets without his
+having to touch it.
+</p>
+<p>
+Meantime great events were rolling by, unheeded by Peter and his grass
+widow who never read the newspapers. For one thing Jim Goober was
+convicted and sentenced to die on the gallows, and Jim Goober&rsquo;s associate,
+Biddle, was found guilty, and sentenced to prison for life. Also, America
+entered the war, and a wave of patriotic excitement swept like a prairie
+fire over the country. Peter could not help hearing about this; his
+attention was attracted to one aspect of the matter&mdash;Congress was
+about to pass a conscription act. And Peter was within the age limit;
+Peter would almost certainly be drafted into the army!
+</p>
+<p>
+No terror that he had ever felt in his life was equal to this terror. He
+had tried to forget the horrible pictures of battle and slaughter, of
+machine-guns and hand-grenades and torpedoes and poison gas, with which
+little Jennie had filled his imagination; but now these imaginings came
+crowding back upon him, now for the first time they concerned him. From
+that time on his honeymoon was spoiled. Peter and his grass widow were
+like a party of picnickers who are far away in the wilderness, and see a
+black thunder-storm come rolling up the sky!
+</p>
+<p>
+Also, Peter&rsquo;s bank account was running low. Peter had had no conception
+how much money you could spend on a grass widow who is a &ldquo;swell dresser&rdquo;
+ and understands what is &ldquo;proper.&rdquo; He was overwhelmed with embarrassment;
+he put off telling Mrs. James until the last moment&mdash;in fact, until
+he wasn&rsquo;t quite sure whether he had enough money in bank to meet the last
+check he had given to the landlady. Then, realizing that the game was up,
+he told.
+</p>
+<p>
+He was surprised to see how charmingly a grass widow of &ldquo;good breeding&rdquo;
+ could take bad tidings. Evidently it wasn&rsquo;t the first time that Mrs. James
+had been to the beach. She smiled cheerfully, and said that it was the
+jury-box for her once more. She gave Peter her card, and told him she
+would be glad to have him call upon her again&mdash;when he had restored
+his fortunes. She packed up her suit-case and her new trunk full of
+Peter&rsquo;s presents, and departed with the most perfect sweetness and good
+taste.
+</p>
+<p>
+<br /><br />
+</p>
+<hr />
+<p>
+<a name="link2H_4_0031" id="link2H_4_0031"> </a>
+</p>
+<div style="height: 4em;">
+<br /><br /><br /><br />
+</div>
+<h2>
+Section 31
+</h2>
+<p>
+So there was Peter, down and out once more. But fate was kind to him. That
+very day came a letter signed &ldquo;Two forty-three,&rdquo; which meant McGivney.
+&ldquo;Two forty-three&rdquo; had some important work for Peter, so would he please
+call at once? Peter pawned his last bit of jewelry for his fare to
+American City, and met McGivney at the usual rendezvous.
+</p>
+<p>
+The purpose of the meeting was quickly explained. America was now at war,
+and the time had come when the mouths of these Reds were to be stopped for
+good. You could do things in war-time that you couldn&rsquo;t do in peace-time,
+and one of the things you were going to do was to put an end to the
+agitation against property. Peter licked his lips, metaphorically
+speaking. It was something he had many times told McGivney ought to be
+done. Pat McCormick especially ought to be put away for good. These were a
+dangerous bunch, these Reds, and Mac was the worst of all. It was every
+man&rsquo;s duty to help, and what could Peter do?
+</p>
+<p>
+McGivney answered that the authorities were making a complete list of all
+the radical organizations and their members, getting evidence preliminary
+to arrests. Guffey was in charge of the job; as in the Goober case, the
+big business interests of the city were going ahead while the government
+was still wiping the sleep out of its eyes. Would Peter take a job spying
+upon the Reds in American City?
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;I can&rsquo;t!&rdquo; exclaimed Peter. &ldquo;They&rsquo;re all sore at me because I didn&rsquo;t
+testify in the Goober case.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;We can easily fix that up,&rdquo; answered the rat-faced man. &ldquo;It may mean a
+little inconvenience for you. You may have to go to jail for a few days.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;To jail!&rdquo; cried Peter, in dismay.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Yes,&rdquo; said the other, &ldquo;you&rsquo;ll have to get arrested, and made into a
+martyr. Then, you see, they&rsquo;ll all be sure you&rsquo;re straight, and they&rsquo;ll
+take you back again and welcome you.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+Peter didn&rsquo;t like the idea of going to jail; his memories of the jail in
+American City were especially painful. But McGivney explained that this
+was a time when men couldn&rsquo;t consider their own feelings; the country was
+in danger, public safety must be protected, and it was up to everybody to
+make some patriotic sacrifice. The rich men were all subscribing to
+liberty bonds; the poor men were going to give their lives; and what was
+Peter Gudge going to give? &ldquo;Maybe I&rsquo;ll be drafted into the army,&rdquo; Peter
+remarked.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;No, you won&rsquo;t&mdash;not if you take this job,&rdquo; said McGivney. &ldquo;We can fix
+that. A man like you, who has special abilities, is too precious to be
+wasted.&rdquo; Peter decided forthwith that he would accept the proposition. It
+was much more sensible to spend a few days in jail than to spend a few
+years in the trenches, and maybe the balance of eternity under the sod of
+France.
+</p>
+<p>
+Matters were quickly arranged. Peter took off his good clothes, and
+dressed himself as became a workingman, and went into the eating-room
+where Donald Gordon, the Quaker boy, always got his lunch. Peter was quite
+sure that Donald would be one of the leading agitators against the draft,
+and in this he was not mistaken.
+</p>
+<p>
+Donald was decidedly uncordial in his welcoming of Peter; without saying a
+word the young Quaker made Peter aware that he was a renegade, a coward
+who had &ldquo;thrown down&rdquo; the Goober defense. But Peter was patient and
+tactful; he did not try to defend himself, nor did he ask any questions
+about Donald and Donald&rsquo;s activities. He simply announced that he had been
+studying the subject of militarism, and had come to a definite point of
+view. He was a Socialist and an Internationalist; he considered America&rsquo;s
+entry into the war a crime, and he was willing to do his part in agitating
+against it. He was going to take his stand as a conscientious objector;
+they might send him to jail if they pleased, or even stand him against a
+wall and shoot him, but they would never get him to put on a uniform.
+</p>
+<p>
+It was impossible for Donald Gordon to hold out against a man who talked
+like that; a man who looked him in the eye and expressed his convictions
+so simply and honestly. And that evening Peter went to a meeting of Local
+American City of the Socialist Party, and renewed his acquaintance with
+all the comrades. He didn&rsquo;t make a speech or do anything conspicuous, but
+simply got into the spirit of things; and next day he managed to meet some
+of the members, and whenever and wherever he was asked, he expressed his
+convictions as a conscientious objector. So before a week had passed Peter
+found that he was being tolerated, that nobody was going to denounce him
+as a traitor, or kick him out of the room.
+</p>
+<p>
+At the next weekly meeting of Local American City, Peter ventured to say a
+few words. It was a red-hot meeting, at which the war and the draft were
+the sole subjects of discussion. There were some Germans in the local,
+some Irishmen, and one or two Hindoos; they, naturally, were all ardent
+pacifists. Also there were agitators of what was coming to be called the
+&ldquo;left wing&rdquo;; the group within the party who considered it too
+conservative, and were always clamoring for more radical declarations, for
+&ldquo;mass action&rdquo; and general strikes and appeals to the proletariat to rise
+forthwith and break their chains. These were days of great events; the
+Russian revolution had electrified the world, and these comrades of the
+&ldquo;left wing&rdquo; felt themselves lifted upon pinions of hope.
+</p>
+<p>
+Peter spoke as one who had been out on the road, meeting the rank and
+file; he could speak for the men on the job. What was the use of opposing
+the draft here in a hall, where nobody but party members were present?
+What was wanted was for them to lift up their voices on the street, to
+awaken the people before it was too late! Was there anybody in this
+gathering bold enough to organize a street meeting?
+</p>
+<p>
+There were some who could not resist this challenge, and in a few minutes
+Peter had secured the pledges of half a dozen young hot-heads, Donald
+Gordon among them. Before the evening was past it had been arranged that
+these would-be-martyrs should hire a truck, and make their debut on Main
+Street the very next evening. Old hands in the movement warned them that
+they would only get their heads cracked by the police. But the answer to
+that was obvious&mdash;they might as well get their heads cracked by the
+police as get them blown to pieces by German artillery.
+</p>
+<p>
+<br /><br />
+</p>
+<hr />
+<p>
+<a name="link2H_4_0032" id="link2H_4_0032"> </a>
+</p>
+<div style="height: 4em;">
+<br /><br /><br /><br />
+</div>
+<h2>
+Section 32
+</h2>
+<p>
+Peter reported to McGivney what was planned, and McGivney promised that
+the police would be on hand. Peter warned him to be careful and have the
+police be gentle; at which McGivney grinned, and answered that he would
+see to that.
+</p>
+<p>
+It was all very simple, and took less than ten minutes of time. The truck
+drew up on Main Street, and a young orator stepped forward and announced
+to his fellow citizens that the time had come for the workers to make
+known their true feelings about the draft. Never would free Americans
+permit themselves to be herded into armies and shipped over seas and be
+slaughtered for the benefit of international bankers. Thus far the orator
+had got, when a policeman stepped forward and ordered him to shut up. When
+he refused, the policeman tapped on the sidewalk with his stick, and a
+squad of eight or ten came round the corner, and the orator was informed
+that he was under arrest. Another orator stepped forward and took up the
+harangue, and when he also had been put under arrest, another, and
+another, until the whole six of them, including Peter, were in hand.
+</p>
+<p>
+The crowd had had no time to work up any interest one way or the other, A
+patrol-wagon was waiting, and the orators were bundled in and driven to
+the station-house, and next morning they were haled before a magistrate
+and sentenced each to fifteen days. As they had been expecting to get six
+months, they were a happy bunch of &ldquo;left wingers.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+And they were still happier when they saw how they were to be treated in
+jail. Ordinarily it was the custom of the police to inflict all possible
+pain and humiliation upon the Reds. They would put them in the revolving
+tank, a huge steel structure of many cells which was turned round and
+round by a crank. In order to get into any cell, the whole tank had to be
+turned until that particular cell was opposite the entrance, which meant
+that everybody in the tank got a free ride, accompanied by endless
+groaning and scraping of rusty machinery; also it meant that nobody got
+any consecutive sleep. The tank was dark, too dark to read, even if they
+had had books or papers. There was nothing to do save to smoke cigarettes
+and shoot craps, and listen to the smutty stories of the criminals, and
+plot revenge against society when they got out again. But up in the new
+wing of the jail were some cells which were clean and bright and airy,
+being only three or four feet from a row of windows. In these cells they
+generally put the higher class of criminals&mdash;women who had cut the
+throats of their sweethearts, and burglars who had got I away with the
+swag, and bankers who had plundered whole communities. But now, to the
+great surprise of five out of the six anti-militarists, the entire party
+was put in one of these big cells, and allowed the privilege of having
+reading matter and of paying for their own food. Under these circumstances
+martyrdom became a joke, and the little party settled down to enjoy life.
+It never once occurred to them to think of Peter Gudge as the source of
+this bounty. They attributed it, as the French say, &ldquo;to their beautiful
+eyes.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+There was Donald Gordon, who was the son of a well-to-do business man, and
+had been to college, until he was expelled for taking the doctrines of
+Christianity too literally and expounding them too persistently on the
+college campus. There was a big, brawny lumber-jack from the North, Jim
+Henderson by name, who had been driven out of the camps for the same
+reason, and had appalling stories to tell of the cruelties and hardships
+of the life of a logger. There was a Swedish sailor by the name of Gus,
+who had visited every port in the world, and a young Jewish cigar-worker
+who had never been outside of American City, but had travelled even more
+widely in his mind.
+</p>
+<p>
+The sixth man was the strangest character of all to Peter; a shy, dreamy
+fellow with eyes so full of pain and a face so altogether mournful that it
+hurt to look at him. Duggan was his name, and he was known in the movement
+as the &ldquo;hobo poet.&rdquo; He wrote verses, endless verses about the lives of
+society&rsquo;s outcasts; he would get himself a pencil and paper and sit off in
+the corner of the cell by the hour, and the rest of the fellows,
+respecting his work, would talk in whispers so as not to disturb him. He
+wrote all the time while the others slept, it seemed to Peter. He wrote
+verses about the adventures of his fellow-prisoners, and presently he was
+writing verses about the jailers, and about other prisoners in this part
+of the jail. He would have moods of inspiration, and would make up topical
+verses as he went along; then again he would sink back into his despair,
+and say that life was hell, and making rhymes about it was childishness.
+</p>
+<p>
+There was no part of America that Tom Duggan hadn&rsquo;t visited, no tragedy of
+the life of outcasts that he hadn&rsquo;t seen. He was so saturated with it that
+he couldn&rsquo;t think of anything else. He would tell about men who had
+perished of thirst in the desert, about miners sealed up for weeks in an
+exploded mine, about matchmakers poisoned until their teeth fell out, and
+their finger nails and even their eyes. Peter could see no excuse for such
+morbidness, such endless harping upon the horrible things of life. It
+spoiled all his happiness in the jail&mdash;it was worse than little
+Jennie&rsquo;s talking about the war!
+</p>
+<p>
+<br /><br />
+</p>
+<hr />
+<p>
+<a name="link2H_4_0033" id="link2H_4_0033"> </a>
+</p>
+<div style="height: 4em;">
+<br /><br /><br /><br />
+</div>
+<h2>
+Section 33
+</h2>
+<p>
+One of Duggan&rsquo;s poems had to do with a poor devil named Slim, who was a
+&ldquo;snow-eater,&rdquo; that is to say, a cocaine victim. This Slim wandered about
+the streets of New York in the winter-time without any shelter, and would
+get into an office building late in the afternoon, and hide in one of the
+lavatories to spend the night. If he lay down, he would be seen and thrown
+out, so his only chance was to sit up; but when he fell asleep, he would
+fall off the seat&mdash;therefore he carried a rope in his pocket, and
+would tie himself in a sitting position.
+</p>
+<p>
+Now what was the use of a story like that? Peter didn&rsquo;t want to hear about
+such people! He wanted to express his disgust; but he knew, of course,
+that he must hide it. He laughed as he exclaimed, &ldquo;Christ Almighty,
+Duggan, can&rsquo;t you give us something with a smile? You don&rsquo;t think it&rsquo;s the
+job of Socialists to find a cure for the dope habit, do you? That&rsquo;s sure
+one thing that ain&rsquo;t caused by the profit system.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+Duggan smiled his bitterest smile. &ldquo;If there&rsquo;s any misery in the world
+today that ain&rsquo;t kept alive by the profit system, I&rsquo;d like to see it!
+D&rsquo;you think dope sells itself? If there wasn&rsquo;t a profit in it, would it be
+sold to any one but doctors? Where&rsquo;d you get your Socialism, anyhow?&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+So Peter beat a hasty retreat. &ldquo;Oh, sure, I know all that. But here you&rsquo;re
+shut up in jail because you want to change things. Ain&rsquo;t you got a right
+to give yourself a rest while you&rsquo;re in?&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+The poet looked at him, as solemn as an owl. He shook his head. &ldquo;No,&rdquo; he
+said. &ldquo;Just because we&rsquo;re fixed up nice and comfortable in jail, have we
+got the right to forget the misery of those outside?&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+The others laughed; but Duggan did not mean to be funny at all. He rose
+slowly to his feet and with his arms outstretched, in the manner of one
+offering himself as a sacrifice, he proclaimed:
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;While there is a lower class, I am in it.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;While there is a criminal element, I am of it.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;While there is a soul in jail, I am not free.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+Then he sat down and buried his face in his hands. The group of rough
+fellows sat in solemn silence. Presently Gus, the Swedish sailor, feeling
+perhaps that the rebuke to Peter had been too severe, spoke timidly:
+&ldquo;Comrade Gudge, he ban in jail twice already.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+So the poet looked up again. He held out his hand to Peter. &ldquo;Sure, I know
+that!&rdquo; he said, clasping Peter in the grip of comradeship. And then he
+added: &ldquo;I&rsquo;ll tell you a story with a smile!&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+Once upon a time, it appeared, Duggan had been working in a moving picture
+studio, where they needed tramps and outcasts and all sorts of people for
+crowds. They had been making a &ldquo;Preparedness&rdquo; picture, and wanted to show
+the agitators and trouble-makers, mobbing the palace of a banker. They got
+two hundred bums and hoboes, and took them in trucks to the palace of a
+real banker, and on the front lawn the director made a speech to the
+crowd, explaining his ideas. &ldquo;Now,&rdquo; said he, &ldquo;remember, the guy that owns
+this house is the guy that&rsquo;s got all the wealth that you fellows have
+produced. You are down and out, and you know that he&rsquo;s robbed you, so you
+hate him. You gather on his lawn and you&rsquo;re going to mob his home; if you
+can get hold of him, you&rsquo;re going to tear him to bits for what he&rsquo;s done
+to you.&rdquo; So the director went on, until finally Duggan interrupted: &ldquo;Say,
+boss, you don&rsquo;t have to teach us. This is a real palace, and we&rsquo;re real
+bums!&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+Apparently the others saw the &ldquo;smile&rdquo; in this story, for they chuckled for
+some time over it. But it only added to Peter&rsquo;s hatred of these Reds; it
+made him realize more than ever that they were a bunch of &ldquo;sore heads,&rdquo;
+ they were green and yellow with jealousy. Everybody that had succeeded in
+the world they hated&mdash;just because they had succeeded! Well, <i>they</i>
+would never succeed; they could go on forever with their grouching, but
+the mass of the workers in America had a normal attitude toward the big
+man, who could do things. They did not want to wreck his palace; they
+admired him for having it, and they followed his leadership gladly.
+</p>
+<p>
+It seemed as if Henderson, the lumber-jack, had read Peter&rsquo;s thought. &ldquo;My
+God!&rdquo; he said. &ldquo;What a job it is to make the workers class-conscious!&rdquo; He
+sat on the edge of his cot, with his broad shoulders bowed and his heavy
+brows knit in thought over the problem of how to increase the world&rsquo;s
+discontent. He told of one camp where he had worked&mdash;so hard and
+dangerous was the toil that seven men had given up their lives in the
+course of one winter. The man who owned this tract, and was exploiting it,
+had gotten the land by the rankest kind of public frauds; there were
+filthy bunk-houses, vermin, rotten food, poor wages and incessant abuse.
+And yet, in the spring-time, here came the young son of this owner, on a
+honeymoon trip with his bride. &ldquo;And Jesus,&rdquo; said Henderson, &ldquo;if you could
+have seen those stiffs turn out and cheer to split their throats! They
+really meant it, you know; they just loved that pair of idle,
+good-for-nothing kids!&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+Gus, the sailor, spoke up, his broad, good-natured face wearing a grin
+which showed where three of his front teeth had been knocked out with a
+belaying pin. It was exactly the same with the seamen, he declared. They
+never saw the ship-owners, they didn&rsquo;t know even the names of the people
+who were getting the profit of their toil, but they had a crazy loyalty to
+their ship, Some old tanker would be sent out to sea on purpose to be
+sunk, so that the owners might get the insurance. But the poor A. Bs.
+would love that old tub so that they would go down to the bottom with her&mdash;or
+perhaps they would save her, to the owners great disgust!
+</p>
+<p>
+Thus, for hours on end, Peter had to sit listening to this ding donging
+about the wrongs of the poor and the crimes of the rich. Here he had been
+sentenced for fifteen days and nights to listen to Socialist wrangles!
+Every one of these fellows had a different idea of how he wanted the world
+to be run, and every one had a different idea of how to bring about the
+change. Life was an endless struggle between the haves and the have-nots,
+and the question of how the have-nots were to turn out the haves was
+called &ldquo;tactics.&rdquo; When you talked about &ldquo;tactics&rdquo; you used long technical
+terms which made your conversation unintelligible to a plain, ordinary
+mortal. It seemed to Peter that every time he fell asleep it was to the
+music of proletariat and surplus value and unearned increment, possibilism
+and impossibilism, political action, direct action, mass action, and the
+perpetual circle of Syndicalist-Anarchist, Anarchist-Communist,
+Communist-Socialist and Socialist-Syndicalist.
+</p>
+<p>
+<br /><br />
+</p>
+<hr />
+<p>
+<a name="link2H_4_0034" id="link2H_4_0034"> </a>
+</p>
+<div style="height: 4em;">
+<br /><br /><br /><br />
+</div>
+<h2>
+Section 34
+</h2>
+<p>
+In company such as this Peter&rsquo;s education for the role of detective was
+completed by force, as it were. He listened to everything, and while he
+did not dare make any notes, he stored away treasures in his mind, and
+when he came out of the jail he was able to give McGivney a pretty
+complete picture of the various radical organizations in American City,
+and the attitude of each one toward the war.
+</p>
+<p>
+Peter found that McGivney&rsquo;s device had worked perfectly. Peter was now a
+martyr and a hero; his position as one of the &ldquo;left wingers&rdquo; was
+definitely established, and anyone who ventured to say a word against him
+would be indignantly rebuked. As a matter of fact, no one desired to say
+much. Pat McCormick, Peter&rsquo;s enemy, was out on an organizing trip among
+the oil workers.
+</p>
+<p>
+Duggan had apparently taken a fancy to Peter, and took him to meet some of
+his friends, who lived in an old, deserted warehouse, which happened to
+have skylights in the roof; this constituted each room a &ldquo;studio,&rdquo; and
+various radicals rented the rooms, and lived here a sort of picnic
+existence which Peter learned was called &ldquo;Bohemian.&rdquo; They were young
+people, most of them, with one or two old fellows, derelicts; they wore
+flannel shirts, and soft ties, or no ties at all, and their fingers were
+always smeared with paint. Their life requirements were simple; all they
+wanted was an unlimited quantity of canvas and paint, some cigarettes, and
+at long intervals a pickle or some sauer-kraut and a bottle of beer. They
+would sit all day in front of an easel, painting the most inconceivable
+pictures&mdash;pink skies and green-faced women and purple grass and
+fantastic splurges of color which they would call anything from &ldquo;The Woman
+with a Mustard Pot&rdquo; to &ldquo;A Nude Coming Downstairs.&rdquo; And there would be
+others, like Duggan, writing verses all day; pounding away on a
+typewriter, if they could manage to rent or borrow one. There were several
+who sang, and one who played the flute and caused all the others to tear
+their hair. There was a boy fresh from the country, who declared that he
+had run away from home because the family sang hymns all day Sunday, and
+never sang in tune.
+</p>
+<p>
+From people such as these you would hear the most revolutionary
+utterances; but Peter soon realized that it was mostly just talk with
+them. They would work off their frenzies with a few dashes of paint or
+some ferocious chords on the piano. The really dangerous ones were not
+here; they were hidden away in offices or dens of their own, where they
+were prompting strikes and labor agitations, and preparing incendiary
+literature to be circulated among the poor.
+</p>
+<p>
+You met such people in the Socialist local, and in the I. W. W.
+headquarters, and in numerous clubs and propaganda societies which Peter
+investigated, and to which he was welcomed as a member. In the Socialist
+local there was a fierce struggle going on over the war. What should be
+the attitude of the party? There was a group, a comparatively small group,
+which believed that the interests of Socialism would best be served by
+helping the Allies to the overthrow of the Kaiser. There was another
+group, larger and still more determined, which believed that the war was a
+conspiracy of allied capitalism to rivet its power upon the world, and
+this group wanted the party to stake its existence upon a struggle against
+American participation. These two groups contested for the minds of the
+rank and file of the members, who seemed to be bewildered by the magnitude
+of the issue and the complexity of the arguments. Peter&rsquo;s orders were to
+go with the extreme anti-militarists; they were the ones whose confidence
+he wished to gain, also they were the trouble-makers of the movement, and
+McGivney&rsquo;s instructions were to make all the trouble possible.
+</p>
+<p>
+Over at the I. W. W. headquarters was another group whose members were
+debating their attitude to the war. Should they call strikes and try to
+cripple the leading industries of the country? Or should they go quietly
+on with their organization work, certain that in the end the workers would
+sicken of the military adventure into which they were being snared? Some
+of these &ldquo;wobblies&rdquo; were Socialist party members also, and were active in
+both gatherings; two of them, Henderson, the lumber-jack, and Gus
+Lindstrom, the sailor, had been in jail with Peter, and had been among his
+intimates ever since.
+</p>
+<p>
+Also Peter met the Pacifists; the &ldquo;Peoples&rsquo; Council,&rdquo; as they called
+themselves. Many of these were religious people, two or three clergymen,
+and Donald Gordon, the Quaker, and a varied assortment of women&mdash;sentimental
+young girls who shrunk from the thought of bloodshed, and mothers with
+tear-stained cheeks who did not want their darlings to be drafted. Peter
+saw right away that these mothers had no &ldquo;conscientious objections.&rdquo; Each
+mother was thinking about her own son and about nothing else. Peter was
+irritated at this, and took it for his special job to see that those
+mother&rsquo;s darlings did their duty.
+</p>
+<p>
+He attended a gathering of Pacifists in the home of a school-teacher. They
+made heart-breaking speeches, and finally little Ada Ruth, the poetess,
+got up and wanted to know, was it all to end in talk, or would they
+organize and prepare to take some action against the draft? Would they not
+at least go out on the street, get up a parade with banners of protest,
+and go to jail as Comrade Peter Gudge had so nobly done?
+</p>
+<p>
+Comrade Peter was called on for &ldquo;a few words.&rdquo; Comrade Peter explained
+that he was no speaker; after all, actions spoke louder than words, and he
+had tried to show what he believed. The others were made ashamed by this,
+and decided for a bold stand at once. Ada Ruth became president and Donald
+Gordon secretary of the &ldquo;Anti-conscription League&rdquo;&mdash;a list of whose
+charter members was turned over to McGivney the same evening.
+</p>
+<p>
+<br /><br />
+</p>
+<hr />
+<p>
+<a name="link2H_4_0035" id="link2H_4_0035"> </a>
+</p>
+<div style="height: 4em;">
+<br /><br /><br /><br />
+</div>
+<h2>
+Section 35
+</h2>
+<p>
+All this time the country had been going to war. The huge military machine
+was getting under way, the storm of public feeling was rising. Congress
+had voted a huge loan, a country-wide machine of propaganda was being
+organized, and the oratory of Four Minute Men was echoing from Maine to
+California. Peter read the American City &ldquo;Times&rdquo; every morning, and here
+were speeches of statesmen and sermons of clergymen, here were cartoons
+and editorials, all burning with the fervor&rsquo;s of patriotism. Peter
+absorbed these, and his soul became transfigured. Hitherto Peter had been
+living for himself; but there comes a time in the life of every man who
+can use his brain at all when he realizes that he is not the one thing of
+importance in the universe, the one end to be served. Peter very often
+suffered from qualms of conscience, waves of doubt as to his own
+righteousness. Peter, like every other soul that ever lived, needed a
+religion, an ideal.
+</p>
+<p>
+The Reds had a religion, as you might call it; but this religion had
+failed to attract Peter. In the first place it was low; its devotees were
+wholly lacking in the graces of life, in prestige, and that ease which
+comes with assurance of power. They were noisy in their fervors, and
+repelled Peter as much as the Holy Rollers. Also, they were always harping
+upon the sordid and painful facts of life; who but a pervert would listen
+to &ldquo;sob stories,&rdquo; when he might have all the things that are glorious and
+shining and splendid in the world?
+</p>
+<p>
+But now here was the religion Peter wanted. These clergymen in their robes
+of snow white linen, preaching in churches with golden altars and
+stained-glass windows; these statesmen who wore the halo of fame, and went
+about with the cheering of thousands in their ears; these mighty captains
+of industry whose very names were magic&mdash;with power, when written on
+pieces of paper, to cause cities to rise in the desert, and then to fall
+again beneath a rain of shells and poison gas; these editors and
+cartoonists of the American City &ldquo;Times,&rdquo; with all their wit and learning&mdash;these
+people all combined to construct for Peter a religion and an ideal, and to
+hand it out to him, ready-made and precisely fitted to his understanding.
+Peter would go right on doing the things he had been doing before; but he
+would no longer do them in the name of Peter Gudge, the ant, he would do
+them in the name of a mighty nation of a hundred and ten million people,
+with all its priceless memories of the past and its infinite hopes for the
+future; he would do them in the sacred name of patriotism, and the still
+more sacred name of democracy. And&mdash;most convenient of circumstances&mdash;the
+big business men of American City, who had established a secret service
+bureau with Guffey in charge of it, would go right on putting up their
+funds, and paying Peter fifty dollars a week and expenses while he served
+the holy cause!
+</p>
+<p>
+It was the fashion these days for orators and public men to vie with one
+another in expressing the extremes of patriotism, and Peter would read
+these phrases, and cherish them; they came to seem a part of him, he felt
+as if he had invented them. He became greedy for more and yet more of this
+soul-food; and there was always more to be had&mdash;until Peter&rsquo;s soul
+was become swollen, puffed up as with a bellows. Peter became a patriot of
+patriots, a super-patriot; Peter was a red-blooded American and no
+mollycoddle; Peter was a &ldquo;he-American,&rdquo; a 100% American&mdash;and if there
+could have been such a thing as a 101% American, Peter would have been
+that. Peter was so much of an American that the very sight of a foreigner
+filled him with a fighting impulse. As for the Reds&mdash;well, Peter
+groped for quite a time before he finally came upon a formula which
+expressed his feelings. It was a famous clergyman who achieved it for him&mdash;saying
+that if he could have his way he would take all the Reds, and put them in
+a ship of stone with sails of lead, and send them forth with hell for
+their destination.
+</p>
+<p>
+So Peter chafed more and more at his inability to get action. How much
+more evidence did the secret service of the Traction Trust require? Peter
+would ask this question of McGivney again and again, and McGivney would
+answer: &ldquo;Keep your shirt on. You&rsquo;re getting your pay every week. What&rsquo;s
+the matter with you?&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;The matter is, I&rsquo;m tired of listening to these fellows ranting,&rdquo; Peter
+would say. &ldquo;I want to stop their mouths.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+Yes, Peter had come to take it as a personal affront that these radicals
+should go on denouncing the cause which Peter had espoused. They all
+thought of Peter as a comrade, they were most friendly to him; but Peter
+had the knowledge of how they would regard him when they knew the real
+truth, and this imagined contempt burned him like an acid. Sometimes there
+would be talk about spies and informers, and then these people would
+exhaust their vocabulary of abuse, and Peter, of course, would apply every
+word of it to himself and become wild with anger. He would long to answer
+back; he was waiting for the day when he might vindicate himself and his
+cause by smashing these Reds in the mouth.
+</p>
+<p>
+<br /><br />
+</p>
+<hr />
+<p>
+<a name="link2H_4_0036" id="link2H_4_0036"> </a>
+</p>
+<div style="height: 4em;">
+<br /><br /><br /><br />
+</div>
+<h2>
+Section 36
+</h2>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Well,&rdquo; said McGivney one day, &ldquo;I&rsquo;ve got something interesting for you
+now. You&rsquo;re going into high society for a while!&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+And the rat-faced man explained that there was a young man in a
+neighboring city, reputed to be a multi-millionaire, who had written a
+book against the war, and was the financial source of much pacificism and
+sedition. &ldquo;These people are spending lots of money for printing,&rdquo; said
+McGivney, &ldquo;and we hear this fellow Lackman is putting it up. We&rsquo;ve learned
+that he is to be in town tomorrow, and we want you to find out all about
+his affairs.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+So Peter was to meet a millionaire! Peter had never known one of these
+fortunate beings, but he was for them&mdash;he had always been for them.
+Ever since he had learned to read, he had liked to find stories about them
+in the newspapers, with pictures of them and their palaces. He had read
+these stories as a child reads fairy tales. They were his creatures of
+dreams, belonging to a world above reality, above pain and inconvenience.
+</p>
+<p>
+And then in the days when Peter had been a servant in the Temple of
+Jimjambo, devoted to the cult of Eleutherinian Exoticism, he had found
+hanging in the main assembly room a picture labelled, &ldquo;Mount Olympus,&rdquo;
+ showing a dozen gods and goddesses reclining at ease on silken couches,
+sipping nectar from golden goblets and gazing down upon the far-off
+troubles of the world. Peter would peer from behind the curtains and see
+the Chief Magistrian emerging from behind the seven mystic veils, lifting
+his rolling voice and in a kind of chant expounding life to his flock of
+adoring society ladies. He would point to the picture and explain those
+golden, Olympian days when the Eleutherinian cult had originated. The
+world had changed much since then, and for the worse; those who had power
+must take it as their task to restore beauty and splendor to the world,
+and to develop the gracious possibilities of being.
+</p>
+<p>
+Peter, of course, hadn&rsquo;t really believed in anything that went on in the
+Temple of Jimjambo; and yet he had been awed by its richness, and by the
+undoubtedly exclusive character of its worshippers; he had got the idea
+definitely fixed in his head that there really had been a Mount Olympus,
+and when he tried to imagine the millionaires and their ways, it was these
+gods and goddesses, reclining on silken couches and sipping nectar, that
+came to his mind!
+</p>
+<p>
+Now since Peter had come to know the Reds, who wanted to blow up the
+palaces of the millionaires, he was more than ever on the side of his gods
+and goddesses. His fervors for them increased every time he heard them
+assailed; he wanted to meet some of them, and passionately, yet
+respectfully, pour out to them his allegiance. A glow of satisfaction came
+over him as he pictured himself in some palace, lounging upon a silken
+conch and explaining to a millionaire his understanding of the value of
+beauty and splendor in the world.
+</p>
+<p>
+And now he was to meet one; it was to be a part of his job to cultivate
+one! True, there was something wrong with this particular millionaire&mdash;he
+was one of those freaks who for some reason beyond imagining gave their
+sympathy to the dynamiters and assassins. Peter had met &ldquo;Parlor Reds&rdquo; at
+the home of the Todd sisters; the large shining ladies who came in large
+shining cars to hear him tell of his jail experiences. But he hadn&rsquo;t been
+sure as to whether they were really millionaires or not, and Sadie, when
+he had inquired particularly, had answered vaguely that every one in the
+radical movement who could afford an automobile or a dress-suit was called
+a millionaire by the newspapers.
+</p>
+<p>
+But young Lackman was a real millionaire, McGivney positively assured him;
+and so Peter was free to admire him in spite of all his freak ideas, which
+the rat-faced man explained with intense amusement. Young Lackman
+conducted a school for boys, and when one of the boys did wrong, the
+teacher would punish himself instead of the boy! Peter must pretend to be
+interested in this kind of &ldquo;education,&rdquo; said McGivney, and he must learn
+at least the names of Lackman&rsquo;s books.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;But will he pay any attention to me?&rdquo; demanded Peter.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Sure, he will,&rdquo; said McGivney. &ldquo;That&rsquo;s the point&mdash;you&rsquo;ve been in
+jail, you&rsquo;ve really done something as a pacifist. What you want to do is
+to try to interest him in your Anti-conscription League. Tell him you want
+to make it into a national organization, you want to get something done
+besides talking.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+The address of young Lackman was the Hotel de Soto; and as he heard this,
+Peter&rsquo;s heart gave a leap. The Hotel de Soto was the Mount Olympus of
+American City! Peter had walked by the vast white structure, and seen the
+bronze doors swing outward, and the favored ones of the earth emerging to
+their magic chariots; but never had it occurred to him that he might pass
+thru those bronze doors, and gaze upon those hidden mysteries!
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Will they let me in?&rdquo; he asked McGivney, and the other laughed. &ldquo;Just
+walk in as if you owned the place,&rdquo; he said. &ldquo;Hold up your head, and
+pretend you&rsquo;ve lived there all your life.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+That was easy for McGivney to say, but not so easy for Peter to imagine.
+However, he would try it; McGivney must be right, for it was the same
+thing Mrs. James had impressed upon him many times. You must watch what
+other people did, and practice by yourself, and then go in and do it as if
+you had never done anything else. All life was a gigantic bluff, and you
+encouraged yourself in your bluffing by the certainty that everybody else
+was bluffing just as hard.
+</p>
+<p>
+At seven o&rsquo;clock that evening Peter strolled up to the magic bronze doors,
+and touched them; and sure enough, the blue-uniformed guardians drew them
+back without a word, and the tiny brass-button imps never even glanced at
+Peter as he strode up to the desk and asked for Mr. Lackman.
+</p>
+<p>
+The haughty clerk passed him on to a still more haughty telephone
+operator, who condescended to speak into her trumpet, and then informed
+him that Mr. Lackman was out; he had left word that he would return at
+eight. Peter was about to go out and wander about the streets for an hour,
+when he suddenly remembered that everybody else was bluffing; so he
+marched across the lobby and seated himself in one of the huge leather
+arm-chairs, big enough to hold three of him. There he sat, and continued
+to sit&mdash;and nobody said a word!
+</p>
+<p>
+<br /><br />
+</p>
+<hr />
+<p>
+<a name="link2H_4_0037" id="link2H_4_0037"> </a>
+</p>
+<div style="height: 4em;">
+<br /><br /><br /><br />
+</div>
+<h2>
+Section 37
+</h2>
+<p>
+Yes, this was Mount Olympus, and here were the gods: the female ones in a
+state of divine semi-nudity, the male ones mostly clad in black coats with
+pleated shirt-fronts puffing out. Every time one of them moved up to the
+desk Peter would watch and wonder, was this Mr. Lackman? He might have
+been able to pick out a millionaire from an ordinary crowd; but here every
+male god was got up for the precise purpose of looking like a millionaire,
+so Peter&rsquo;s job was an impossible one.
+</p>
+<p>
+In front of him across the lobby floor there arose a ten-foot pillar to a
+far-distant roof. This pillar was of pale, green-streaked marble, and
+Peter&rsquo;s eyes followed it to the top, where it exploded in a snow-white
+cloud-burst, full of fascination. There were four cornucopias, one at each
+corner, and out of each cornucopia came tangled ropes of roses, and out of
+these roses came other ropes, with what appeared to be apples and leaves,
+and still more roses, and still more emerging ropes, spreading in a tangle
+over the ceiling. Here and there, in the midst of all this splendor, was
+the large, placidly smiling face of a boy angel; four of these placidly
+smiling boy angels gazed from the four sides of the snow-white
+cloud-burst, and Peter&rsquo;s eye roamed from one to another, fascinated by the
+mathematics of this architectural marvel. There were fourteen columns in a
+row, and four such rows in the lobby. That made fifty-six columns in all,
+or two hundred and twenty-four boy angels&rsquo; heads. How many cornucopias and
+how many roses and how many apples it meant, defied all calculation. The
+boy angels&rsquo; heads were exactly alike, every head with the same size and
+quality of smile; and Peter marvelled&mdash;how many days would it take a
+sculptor to carve the details of two hundred and twenty-four boy angel
+smiles?
+</p>
+<p>
+All over the Hotel de Soto was this same kind of sumptuous magnificence;
+and Peter experienced the mental effect which it was contrived to produce
+upon him&mdash;a sense of bedazzlement and awe, a realization that those
+who dwelt in the midst of this splendor were people to whom money was
+nothing, who could pour out treasures in a never-ceasing flood. And
+everything else about the place was of the same character, contrived for
+the same effect&mdash;even the gods and the goddesses! One would sweep by
+with a tiara of jewels in her hair; you might amuse yourself by figuring
+out the number of the jewels, as you had figured out the number of the boy
+angels&rsquo; heads. Or you might take her gown of black lace, embroidered with
+golden butterflies, every one patiently done by hand; you might figure&mdash;so
+many yards of material, and so many golden butterflies to the yard! You
+might count the number of sparkling points upon her jet slippers, or trace
+the intricate designs upon her almost transparent stockings&mdash;only
+there was an inch or two of the stockings which you could not see.
+</p>
+<p>
+Peter watched these gorgeous divinities emerge from the elevators, and
+sweep their way into the dining-room beyond. Some people might have been
+shocked by their costumes; but to Peter, who had the picture of Mount
+Olympus in mind, they seemed most proper. It all depended on the point of
+view: whether you thought of a goddess as fully clothed from chin to toes,
+and proceeded with a pair of shears to cut away so much of her costume, or
+whether you imagined the goddess in a state of nature, and proceeded to
+put veils of gauze about her, and a ribbon over each shoulder to hold the
+veils in place.
+</p>
+<p>
+Twice Peter went to the desk, to inquire if Mr. Lackman had come in yet;
+but still he had not come; and Peter&mdash;growing bolder, like the fox
+who spoke to the lion&mdash;strolled about the lobby, gazing at the groups
+of gods at ease. He had noticed a great balcony around all four sides of
+this lobby, the &ldquo;mezzanine floor,&rdquo; as it was called; he decided he would
+see what was up there, and climbed the white marble stairs, and beheld
+more rows of chairs and couches, done in dark grey velvet. Here,
+evidently, was where the female gods came to linger, and Peter seated
+himself as unobtrusively as possible, and watched.
+</p>
+<p>
+Directly in front of him sat a divinity, lolling on a velvet couch with
+one bare white arm stretched out. It was a large stout arm, and the
+possessor was large and stout, with pale golden hair and many sparkling
+jewels. Her glance roamed lazily from place to place. It rested for an
+instant on Peter, and then moved on, and Peter felt the comment upon his
+own insignificance.
+</p>
+<p>
+Nevertheless, he continued to steal glances now and then, and presently
+saw an interesting sight. In her lap this Juno had a gold-embroidered bag,
+and she opened it, disclosing a collection of mysterious apparatus of
+which she proceeded to make use: first a little gold hand-mirror, in which
+she studied her charms; then a little white powder-puff with which she
+deftly tapped her nose and cheeks; then some kind of red pencil with which
+she proceeded to rub her lips; then a golden pencil with which she lightly
+touched her eyebrows. Then it seemed as if she must have discovered a
+little hair which had grown since she left her dressing-room. Peter
+couldn&rsquo;t be sure, but she had a little pair of tweezers, and seemed to
+pull something out of her chin. She went on with quite an elaborate and
+complicated toilet, paying meantime not the slightest attention to the
+people passing by.
+</p>
+<p>
+Peter looked farther, and saw that just as when one person sneezes or
+yawns everybody else in the room is irresistibly impelled to sneeze or
+yawn, so all these Dianas and Junos and Hebes on the &ldquo;mezzanine floor&rdquo; had
+suddenly remembered their little gold or silver hand-mirrors, their
+powder-puffs and red or golden or black pencils. One after another, the
+little vanity-bags came forth, and Peter, gazing in wonder, thought that
+Mount Olympus had turned into a beauty parlor.
+</p>
+<p>
+Peter rose again and strolled and watched the goddesses, big and little,
+old and young, fat and thin, pretty and ugly&mdash;and it seemed to him
+the fatter and older and uglier they were, the more intently they gazed
+into the little hand-mirrors. He watched them with hungry eyes, for he
+knew that here he was in the midst of high life, the real thing, the
+utmost glory to which man could ever hope to attain, and he wanted to know
+all there was to know about it. He strolled on, innocent and unsuspecting,
+and the two hundred and twenty-four white boy angels in the ceiling smiled
+their bland and placid smiles at him, and Peter knew no more than they
+what complications fate had prepared for him on that mezzanine floor!
+</p>
+<p>
+On one of the big lounges there sat a girl, a radiant creature from the
+Emerald Isles, with hair like sunrise and cheeks like apples. Peter took
+one glance at her, and his heart missed three successive beats, and then,
+to make up for lost time, began leaping like a runaway race-horse. He
+could hardly believe what his eyes told him; but his eyes insisted, his
+eyes knew; yes, his eyes had gazed for hours and hours on end upon that
+hair like sunrise and those cheeks like apples. The girl was Nell, the
+chambermaid of the Temple of Jimjambo!
+</p>
+<p>
+She had not looked Peter&rsquo;s way, so there was time for him to start back
+and hide himself behind a pillar; there he stood, peering out and watching
+her profile, still arguing with his eyes. It couldn&rsquo;t be Nell; and yet it
+was! Nell transfigured, Nell translated to Olympus, turned into a goddess
+with a pale grey band about her middle, and a pale grey ribbon over each
+shoulder to hold it in place! Nell reclining at ease and chatting
+vivaciously to a young man with the face of a bulldog and the
+dinner-jacket of a magazine advertisement!
+</p>
+<p>
+Peter gazed and waited, while his heart went on misbehaving. Peter learned
+in those few fearful minutes what real love is, a most devastating force.
+Little Jennie was forgotten, Mrs. James, the grass widow was forgotten,
+and Peter knew that he had never really admired but one woman in the
+world, and that was Nell, the Irish chambermaid of the Temple of Jimjambo.
+The poets have seen fit to represent young love as a mischievous little
+archer with a sharp and penetrating arrow, and now Peter understood what
+they had meant; that arrow had pierced him thru, and he had to hold on to
+the column to keep himself from falling.
+</p>
+<p>
+<br /><br />
+</p>
+<hr />
+<p>
+<a name="link2H_4_0038" id="link2H_4_0038"> </a>
+</p>
+<div style="height: 4em;">
+<br /><br /><br /><br />
+</div>
+<h2>
+Section 38
+</h2>
+<p>
+Presently the couple rose and strolled away to the elevator, and Peter
+followed. He did not dare get into the elevator with them, for he had
+suddenly become accutely aware of the costume he was wearing in his role
+of proletarian anti-militarist! But Peter was certain that Nell and her
+escort were not going out of the building, for they had no hats or wraps;
+so he went downstairs and hunted thru the lobby and the dining-room, and
+then thru the basement, from which he heard strains of music. Here was
+another vast room, got up in mystic oriental fashion, with electric lights
+hidden in bunches of imitation flowers on each table. This room was called
+the &ldquo;grill,&rdquo; and part of it was bare for dancing, and on a little platform
+sat a band playing music.
+</p>
+<p>
+The strangest music that ever assailed human ears! If Peter had heard it
+before seeing Nell, he would not have understood it, but now its weird
+rhythms fitted exactly to the moods which were tormenting him. This music
+would groan, it would rattle and squeak; it would make noises like swiftly
+torn canvas, or like a steam siren in a hurry. It would climb up to the
+heavens and come banging down to hell. And every thing with queer,
+tormenting motions, gliding and writhing, wriggling, jerking, jumping.
+Peter would never have known what to make of such music, if he had not had
+it here made visible before his eyes, in the behavior of the half-naked
+goddesses and the black-coated gods on this dancing floor. These celestial
+ones came sliding across the floor like skaters, they came writhing like
+serpents, they came strutting like turkeys, jumping like rabbits, stalking
+solemnly like giraffes. They came clamped in one another&rsquo;s arms like bears
+trying to hug each other to death; they came contorting themselves as if
+they were boa-constrictors trying to swallow each other. And Peter,
+watching them and listening to their music, made a curious discovery about
+himself. Deeply buried in Peter&rsquo;s soul were the ghosts of all sorts of
+animals; Peter had once been a boa-constrictor, Peter had once been a
+bear, Peter had once been a rabbit and a giraffe, a turkey and a fox; and
+now under the spell of this weird music these dead creatures came to life
+in his soul. So Peter discovered the meaning of &ldquo;jazz,&rdquo; in all its weirdly
+named and incredible varieties.
+</p>
+<p>
+Also Peter discovered that he had once been a caveman, and had hit his
+rival over the head with a stone axe and carried off his girl by the hair.
+All this he discovered while he stood in the doorway of the Hotel de Soto
+grill, and watched Nell, the ex-chambermaid of the Temple of Jimjambo,
+doing the turkey-trot and the fox-trot and the grizzly-bear and the
+bunny-hug in the arms of a young man with the face of a bulldog.
+</p>
+<p>
+Peter stood for a long while in a daze. Nell and the young man sat down at
+one of the tables to have a meal, but still Peter stood watching and
+trying to figure out what to do. He knew that he must not speak to her in
+his present costume; there would be no way to make her understand that he
+was only playing a role&mdash;that he who looked like a &ldquo;dead one&rdquo; was
+really a prosperous man of important affairs, a 100% red-blooded patriot
+disguised as a proletarian pacifist. No, he must wait, he must get into
+his best before he spoke to her. But meantime, she might go away, and he
+might not be able to find her again in this huge city!
+</p>
+<p>
+After an hour or two he succeeded in figuring out a way, and hurried
+upstairs to the writing-room and penned a note:
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Nell: This is your old friend Peter Gudge. I have struck it rich and have
+important news for you. Be sure to send word to me. Peter.&rdquo; To this he
+added his address, and sealed it in an envelope to &ldquo;Miss Nell Doolin.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+Then he went out into the lobby, and signalled to one of the brass-button
+imps who went about the place calling names in shrill sing-song; he got
+this youngster off in a corner and pressed a dollar bill into his hand.
+There was a young lady in the grill who was to have this note at once. It
+was very important. Would the brass-button imp do it?
+</p>
+<p>
+The imp said sure, and Peter stood in the doorway and watched him walk
+back and forth thru the aisles of the grill, calling in his shrill
+sing-song, &ldquo;Miss Nell Doolin! Miss Nell Doolin!&rdquo; He walked right by the
+table where Nell sat eating; he sang right into her face, it seemed to
+Peter; but she never gave a sign.
+</p>
+<p>
+Peter did not know what to make of it, but he was bound to get that note
+to Nell. So when the imp returned, he pointed her out, and the imp went
+again and handed the note to her. Peter saw her take it&mdash;then he
+darted away; and remembering suddenly that he was supposed to be on duty,
+be rushed back to the office and inquired for Mr. Lackman. To his horror
+he learned that Mr. Lackman had returned, paid his bill, and departed with
+his suitcase to a destination unknown!
+</p>
+<p>
+<br /><br />
+</p>
+<hr />
+<p>
+<a name="link2H_4_0039" id="link2H_4_0039"> </a>
+</p>
+<div style="height: 4em;">
+<br /><br /><br /><br />
+</div>
+<h2>
+Section 39
+</h2>
+<p>
+Peter had a midnight appointment with McGivney, and now had to go and
+admit this humiliating failure. He had done his best, he declared; he had
+inquired at the desk, and waited and waited, but the hotel people had
+failed to notify him of Lackman&rsquo;s arrival. All this was strictly true; but
+it did not pacify McGivney, who was in a black fury. &ldquo;It might have been
+worth thousands of dollars to you!&rdquo; he declared. &ldquo;He&rsquo;s the biggest fish
+we&rsquo;ll ever get on our hook.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Won&rsquo;t he come again?&rdquo; asked grief-stricken Peter.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;No,&rdquo; declared the other. &ldquo;They&rsquo;ll get him at his home city.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;But won&rsquo;t that do?&rdquo; asked Peter, naively.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;You damned fool!&rdquo; was McGivney&rsquo;s response. &ldquo;We wanted to get him here,
+where we could pluck him ourselves.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+The rat-faced man hadn&rsquo;t intended to tell Peter so much, but in his rage
+he let it out. He and a couple of his friends had planned to &ldquo;get
+something&rdquo; on this young millionaire, and scare the wits out of him, with
+the idea that he would put up a good many thousand dollars to be let off.
+Peter might have had his share of this&mdash;only he had been fool enough
+to let the bird get out of his net!
+</p>
+<p>
+Peter offered to follow the young man to his home city, and find some way
+to lure him back into McGivney&rsquo;s power. After McGivney had stormed for a
+while, he decided that this might be possible. He would talk it over with
+the others, and let Peter know. But alas, when Peter picked up an
+afternoon newspaper next day, he read on the front page how young Lackman,
+stepping off the train in his home city that morning, had been placed
+under arrest; his school had been raided, and half a dozen of the teachers
+were in jail, and a ton of Red literature had been confiscated, and a
+swarm of dire conspiracies against the safety of the country had been laid
+bare!
+</p>
+<p>
+Peter read this news, and knew that he was in for another stormy hour with
+his boss. But he hardly gave a thought to it, because of something which
+had happened a few minutes before, something of so much greater
+importance. A messenger had brought him a special delivery letter, and
+with thumping heart he had torn it open and read:
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;All right. Meet me in the waiting-room of Guggenheim&rsquo;s Department Store
+at two o&rsquo;clock this afternoon. But for God&rsquo;s sake forget Nell Doolin.
+Yours, Edythe Eustace.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+So here was Peter dressed in his best clothes, as for his temporary
+honeymoon with the grass widow, and on the way to the rendezvous an hour
+ahead of time. And here came Nell, also dressed, every garment so
+contrived that a single glance would tell the beholder that their owner
+was moving in the highest circles, and regardless of expense. Nell glanced
+over her shoulder now and then as she talked, and explained that Ted
+Crothers, the man with the bulldog face, was a terror, and it was hard to
+get away from him, because he had nothing to do all day.
+</p>
+<p>
+The waiting-room of a big department-store was not the place Peter would
+have selected for the pouring out of his heart; but he had to make the
+best of it, so he told Nell that he loved her, that he would never be able
+to love anybody else, and that he had made piles of money now, he was high
+up on the ladder of prosperity. Nell did not laugh at him, as she had
+laughed in the Temple of Jimjambo, for it was easily to be seen that Peter
+Gudge was no longer a scullion, but a man of the world with a fascinating
+air of mystery. Nell wanted to know forthwith what was he doing; he
+answered that he could not tell, it was a secret of the most desperate
+import; he was under oath. These were the days of German spies and
+bomb-plots, when kings and kaisers and emperors and tsars were pouring
+treasures into America for all kinds of melodramatic purposes; also the
+days of government contracts and secret deals, when in the lobbies and
+private meeting-places of hotels like the de Soto there were fortunes made
+and unmade every hour. So it was easy for Nell to believe in a real
+secret, and being a woman, she put all her faculties upon the job of
+guessing it.
+</p>
+<p>
+She did not again ask Peter to tell her; but she let him talk, and
+tactfully guided the conversation, and before long she knew that Peter was
+intimate with a great many of the most desperate Reds, and likewise that
+he knew all about the insides of the Goober case, and about the great men
+of American City who had put up a million dollars for the purpose of
+hanging Goober, and about the various ways in which this money had been
+spent and wires had been pulled to secure a conviction. Nell put two and
+two together, and before long she figured out that the total was four; she
+suddenly confronted Peter with this total, and Peter was dumb with
+consternation, and broke down and confessed everything, and told Nell all
+about his schemes and his achievements and his adventures&mdash;omitting
+only little Jennie and the grass widow.
+</p>
+<p>
+He told about the sums he had been making and was expecting to make; he
+told about Lackman, and showed Nell the newspaper with pictures of the
+young millionaire and his school. &ldquo;What a handsome fellow!&rdquo; said Nell.
+&ldquo;It&rsquo;s a shame!&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;How do you mean?&rdquo; asked Peter, a little puzzled. Could it be that Nell
+had any sympathy for these Reds?
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;I mean,&rdquo; she answered, &ldquo;that he&rsquo;d have been worth more to you than all
+the rest put together.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+Nell was a woman, and her mind ran to the practical aspect of things.
+&ldquo;Look here, Peter,&rdquo; she said, &ldquo;you&rsquo;ve been letting those &lsquo;dicks&rsquo; work you.
+They&rsquo;re getting the swag, and just giving you tips. What you need is
+somebody to take care of you.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+Peter&rsquo;s heart leaped. &ldquo;Will you do it?&rdquo; he cried.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;I&rsquo;ve got Ted on my hands,&rdquo; said the girl. &ldquo;He&rsquo;d cut my throat, and yours
+too, if he knew I was here. But I&rsquo;ll try to get myself free, and then
+maybe&mdash;I won&rsquo;t promise, but I&rsquo;ll think over your problem, Peter, and
+I&rsquo;ll certainly try to help, so that McGivney and Guffey and those fellows
+can&rsquo;t play you for a sucker any longer.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+She must have time to think it over, she said, and to make inquiries about
+the people involved&mdash;some of whom apparently she knew. She would meet
+Peter again the next day, and in a more private place than here. She named
+a spot in the city park which would be easy to find, and yet sufficiently
+remote for a quiet conference.
+</p>
+<p>
+<br /><br />
+</p>
+<hr />
+<p>
+<a name="link2H_4_0040" id="link2H_4_0040"> </a>
+</p>
+<div style="height: 4em;">
+<br /><br /><br /><br />
+</div>
+<h2>
+Section 40
+</h2>
+<p>
+Peter had been made so bold by Nell&rsquo;s flattery and what she had said about
+his importance, that he did not go back to McGivney to take his second
+scolding about the Lackman case. He was getting tired of McGivney&rsquo;s
+scoldings; if McGivney didn&rsquo;t like his work, let McGivney go and be a Red
+for a while himself. Peter walked the streets all day and a part of the
+night, thinking about Nell, and thrilling over the half promises she had
+made him.
+</p>
+<p>
+They met next day in the park. No one was following them, and they found a
+solitary place, and Nell let him kiss her several times, and in between
+the kisses she unfolded to him a terrifying plan. Peter had thought that
+he was something of an intriguer, but his self-esteem shriveled to
+nothingness in the presence of the superb conception which had come to
+ripeness in the space of twenty-four hours in the brain of Nell Doolin,
+alias Edythe Eustace.
+</p>
+<p>
+Peter had been doing the hard work, and these big fellows had been using
+him, handing him a tip now and then, and making fortunes out of the
+information he brought them. McGivney had let the cat out of the bag in
+this case of Lackman; you might be sure they had been making money, big
+money, out of all the other cases. What Peter must do was to work up
+something of his own, and get the real money, and make himself one of the
+big fellows. Peter had the facts, he knew the people; he had watched in
+the Goober case exactly how a &ldquo;frame-up&rdquo; was made, and now he must make
+one for himself, and one that would pay. It was a matter of duty to rid
+the country of all these Reds; but why should he not have the money as
+well?
+</p>
+<p>
+Nell had spent the night figuring over it, trying to pick out the right
+person. She had hit on old &ldquo;Nelse&rdquo; Ackerman, the banker. Ackerman was
+enormously and incredibly wealthy; he was called the financial king of
+American City. Also he was old, and Nell happened to know he was a coward;
+he was sick in bed just now, and when a man is sick he is still more of a
+coward. What Peter must do was to discover some kind of a bomb-plot
+against old &ldquo;Nelse&rdquo; Ackerman. Peter might talk up the idea among some of
+his Reds and get them interested in it, or he might frame up some letters
+to be found upon them, and hide some dynamite in their rooms. When the
+plot was discovered, it would make a frightful uproar, needless to say;
+the king would hear of it, and of Peter&rsquo;s part as the discoverer of it,
+and he would unquestionably reward Peter. Perhaps Peter might arrange to
+be retained as a secret agent to protect the king from the Reds. Thus
+Peter would be in touch with real money, and might hire Guffey and
+McGivney, instead of their hiring him.
+</p>
+<p>
+If Peter had stood alone, would he have dared so perilous a dream as this?
+Or was he a &ldquo;piker&rdquo;; a little fellow, the victim of his own fears and
+vanities? Anyhow, Peter was not alone; he had Nell, and it was necessary
+that he should pose before Nell as a bold and desperate blade. Just as in
+the old days in the Temple, it was necessary that Peter should get plenty
+of money, in order to take Nell away from another man. So he said all
+right, he would go in on that plan; and proceeded to discuss with Nell the
+various personalities he might use.
+</p>
+<p>
+The most likely was Pat McCormick. &ldquo;Mac,&rdquo; with his grim, set face and his
+silent, secretive habits, fitted perfectly to Peter&rsquo;s conception of a
+dynamiter. Also &ldquo;Mac&rdquo; was Peter&rsquo;s personal enemy; &ldquo;Mac&rdquo; had just returned
+from his organizing trip in the oil fields, and had been denouncing Peter
+and gossiping about him in the various radical groups. &ldquo;Mac&rdquo; was the most
+dangerous Red of them all! He must surely be one of the dynamiters!
+</p>
+<p>
+Another likely one was Joe Angell, whom Peter had met at a recent
+gathering of Ada Ruth&rsquo;s &ldquo;Anti-conscription League.&rdquo; People made jokes
+about this chap&rsquo;s name because he looked the part, with his bright blue
+eyes that seemed to have come out of heaven, and his bright golden hair,
+and even the memory of dimples in his cheeks. But when Joe opened his
+lips, you discovered that he was an angel from the nether regions. He was
+the boldest and most defiant of all the Reds that Peter had yet come upon.
+He had laughed at Ada Ruth and her sentimental literary attitude toward
+the subject of the draft. It wasn&rsquo;t writing poems and passing resolutions
+that was wanted; it wasn&rsquo;t even men who would refuse to put on the
+uniform, but men who would take the guns that were offered to them, and
+drill themselves, and at the proper time face about and use the guns in
+the other direction. Agitating and organizing were all right in their
+place, but now, when the government dared challenge the workers and force
+them into the army, it was men of action that were needed in the radical
+movement.
+</p>
+<p>
+Joe Angell had been up in the lumber country, and could tell what was the
+mood of the real workers, the &ldquo;huskies&rdquo; of the timberlands. Those fellows
+weren&rsquo;t doing any more talking; they had their secret committees that were
+ready to take charge of things as soon as they had put the capitalists and
+their governments out of business. Meantime, if there was a sheriff or
+prosecuting attorney that got too gay, they would &ldquo;bump him off.&rdquo; This was
+a favorite phrase of &ldquo;Blue-eyed Angell.&rdquo; He would use it every half hour
+or so as he told about his adventures. &ldquo;Yes,&rdquo; he would say; &ldquo;he got gay,
+but we bumped him off all right.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+<br /><br />
+</p>
+<hr />
+<p>
+<a name="link2H_4_0041" id="link2H_4_0041"> </a>
+</p>
+<div style="height: 4em;">
+<br /><br /><br /><br />
+</div>
+<h2>
+Section 41
+</h2>
+<p>
+So Nell and Peter settled down to work out the details of their &ldquo;frame-up&rdquo;
+ on Joe Angell and Pat McCormick. Peter must get a bunch of them together
+and get them to talking about bombs and killing people; and then he must
+slip a note into the pockets of all who showed interest, calling them to
+meet for a real conspiracy. Nell would write the notes, so that no one
+could fasten the job onto Peter. She pulled out a pencil and a little pad
+from her handbag, and began: &ldquo;If you really believe in a bold stroke for
+the workers&rsquo; rights, meet me&mdash;&rdquo; And then she stopped. &ldquo;Where?&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;In the studios,&rdquo; put in Peter.
+</p>
+<p>
+And Nell wrote, &ldquo;In the studios. Is that enough?&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Room 17.&rdquo; Peter knew that this was the room of Nikitin, a Russian painter
+who called himself an Anarchist.
+</p>
+<p>
+So Nell wrote &ldquo;Room 17,&rdquo; and after further discussion she added: &ldquo;Tomorrow
+morning at eight o&rsquo;clock. No names and no talk. Action!&rdquo; This time was set
+because Peter recollected that there was to be a gathering of the
+&ldquo;wobblies&rdquo; in their headquarters this very evening. It was to be a
+business meeting, but of course these fellows never got together very long
+without starting the subject of &ldquo;tactics.&rdquo; There was a considerable
+element among them who were dissatisfied with what they called the &ldquo;supine
+attitude&rdquo; of the organization, and were always arguing for action. Peter
+was sure he would be able to get some of them interested in the idea of a
+dynamite conspiracy.
+</p>
+<p>
+As it turned out, Peter had no trouble at all; the subject was started
+without his having to put in a word. Were the workers to be driven like
+sheep to the slaughter, and the &ldquo;wobblies&rdquo; not to make one move? So asked
+the &ldquo;Blue-eyed Angell,&rdquo; vehemently, and added that if they were going to
+move, American City was as good a place as any. He had talked with enough
+of the rank and file to realize that they were ready for action; all they
+needed was a battle-cry and an organization to guide them.
+</p>
+<p>
+Henderson, the big lumber-jack, spoke up. That was just the trouble; you
+couldn&rsquo;t get an organization for such a purpose. The authorities would get
+spies among you, they would find out what you were doing, and drive you
+underground.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Well,&rdquo; cried Joe, &ldquo;we&rsquo;ll go underground!&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Yes,&rdquo; agreed the other, &ldquo;but then your organization goes bust. Nobody
+knows who to trust, everybody&rsquo;s accusing the rest of being a spy.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Hell!&rdquo; said Joe Angell. &ldquo;I&rsquo;ve been in jail for the movement, I&rsquo;ll take my
+chances of anybody&rsquo;s calling me a spy. What I&rsquo;m not going to do is to sit
+down and see the workers driven to hell, because I&rsquo;m so damn careful about
+my precious organization.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+When others objected, Angell rushed on still more vehemently. Suppose they
+did fail in a mass-uprising, suppose they were driven to assassination and
+terrorism? At least they would teach the exploiters a lesson, and take a
+little of the joy out of their lives.
+</p>
+<p>
+Peter thought it would be a good idea for him to pose as a conservative
+just now. &ldquo;Do you really think the capitalists would give up from fear?&rdquo;
+ he asked.
+</p>
+<p>
+And the other answered: &ldquo;You bet I do! I tell you if we&rsquo;d made it
+understood that every congressman who voted this country into war would be
+sent to the front trenches, our country would still be at peace.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;But,&rdquo; put in Peter, deftly, &ldquo;it ain&rsquo;t the congressmen. It&rsquo;s people higher
+up than them.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;You bet,&rdquo; put in Gus, the Swedish sailor. &ldquo;You bet you! I name you one
+dozen big fellows in dis country&mdash;you make it clear if we don&rsquo;t get
+peace dey all get killed&mdash;we get peace all right!&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+So Peter had things where he wanted them. &ldquo;Who are those fellows?&rdquo; he
+asked, and got the crowd arguing over names. Of course they didn&rsquo;t argue
+very long before somebody mentioned &ldquo;Nelse&rdquo; Ackerman, who was venomously
+hated by the Reds because he had put up a hundred thousand dollars of the
+Anti-Goober fund. Peter pretended not to know about Nelse; and Jerry Rudd,
+a &ldquo;blanket-stiff&rdquo; whose head was still sore from being cracked open in a
+recent harvesters&rsquo; strike, remarked that by Jesus, if they&rsquo;d put a few
+fellows like that in the trenches, there&rsquo;d be some pacifists in Ameriky
+sure enough all right.
+</p>
+<p>
+It seemed almost as if Joe Angell had come there to back up Peter&rsquo;s
+purpose. &ldquo;What we want,&rdquo; said he, &ldquo;is a few fellows to fight as hard for
+themselves as they fight for the capitalists.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Yes,&rdquo; assented Henderson, grimly. &ldquo;We&rsquo;re all so good&mdash;we wait till
+our masters tell us we can kill.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+That was the end of the discussion; but it seemed quite enough to Peter.
+He watched his chance, and one by one he managed to slip his little notes
+into the coat-pockets of Joe Angell, Jerry Rudd, Henderson, and Gus, the
+sailor. And then Peter made his escape, trembling with excitement. The
+great dynamite conspiracy was on! &ldquo;They must be got rid of!&rdquo; he was
+whispering to himself. &ldquo;They must be got rid of by any means! It&rsquo;s my duty
+I&rsquo;m doing.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+<br /><br />
+</p>
+<hr />
+<p>
+<a name="link2H_4_0042" id="link2H_4_0042"> </a>
+</p>
+<div style="height: 4em;">
+<br /><br /><br /><br />
+</div>
+<h2>
+Section 42
+</h2>
+<p>
+Peter had an appointment to meet Nell on a street corner at eleven o&rsquo;clock
+that same night, and when she stepped off the street-car, Peter saw that
+she was carrying a suit-case. &ldquo;Did you get your job done?&rdquo; she asked
+quickly, and when Peter answered in the affirmative, she added: &ldquo;Here&rsquo;s
+your bomb!&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+Peter&rsquo;s jaw fell. He looked so frightened that she hastened to reassure
+him. It wouldn&rsquo;t go off; it was only the makings of a bomb, three sticks
+of dynamite and some fuses and part of a clock. The dynamite was wrapped
+carefully, and there was no chance of its exploding&mdash;if he didn&rsquo;t
+drop it! But Peter wasn&rsquo;t much consoled. He had had no idea that Nell
+would go so far, or that he would actually have to handle dynamite. He
+wondered where and how she had got it, and wished to God he was out of
+this thing.
+</p>
+<p>
+But it was too late now, of course. Said Nell: &ldquo;You&rsquo;ve got to get this
+suit-case into the headquarters, and you&rsquo;ve got to get it there without
+anybody seeing you. They&rsquo;ll be shut up pretty soon, won&rsquo;t they?&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;We locked up when we left,&rdquo; said Peter.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;And who has the key?&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Grady, the secretary.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;There&rsquo;s no way you can get it?&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;I can get into the room,&rdquo; said Peter, quickly. &ldquo;There&rsquo;s a fire escape,
+and the window isn&rsquo;t tight. Some of us that know about it have got in that
+way when the place was locked.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;All right,&rdquo; said Nell. &ldquo;We&rsquo;ll wait a bit; we mustn&rsquo;t take chances of
+anyone coming back.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+They started to stroll along the street, Nell still carrying the
+suit-case, as if distrusting the state of Peter&rsquo;s nerves, Meantime she
+explained, &ldquo;I&rsquo;ve got two pieces of paper that we&rsquo;ve got to plant in the
+room. One&rsquo;s to be torn up and thrown into the trash-basket. It&rsquo;s supposed
+to be part of a letter about some big plan that&rsquo;s to be pulled off, and
+it&rsquo;s signed &lsquo;Mac.&rsquo; That&rsquo;s for McCormick, of course. I had to type it, not
+having any sample of his handwriting. The other piece is a drawing;
+there&rsquo;s no marks to show what it is, but of course the police&rsquo;ll soon find
+out. It&rsquo;s a plan of old Ackerman&rsquo;s home, and there&rsquo;s a cross mark showing
+his sleeping-porch. Now, what we want to do is to fix this on McCormick.
+Is there anything in the room that belongs to him?&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+Peter thought, and at last remembered that in the bookshelves were some
+books which had been donated by McCormick, and which had his name written
+in. That was the trick! exclaimed Nell. They would hide the paper in one
+of these books, and when the police made a thorough search they would find
+it. Nell asked what was in these books, and Peter thought, and remembered
+that one was a book on sabotage. &ldquo;Put the paper in that,&rdquo; said Nell. &ldquo;When
+the police find it, the newspapers&rsquo;ll print the whole book.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+Peter&rsquo;s knees were trembling so that he could hardly walk, but he kept
+reminding himself that he was a &ldquo;he-man,&rdquo; a 100% American, and that in
+these times of war every patriot must do his part. His part was to help
+rid the country of these Reds, and he must not flinch. They made their way
+to the old building in which the I. W. W. headquarters were located, and
+Peter climbed up on the fence and swung over to the fire-escape, and Nell
+very carefully handed the suit-case to him, and Peter opened the damaged
+window and slipped into the room.
+</p>
+<p>
+He knew just where the cupboard was, and quickly stored the suit-case in
+the corner, and piled some odds and ends of stuff in front of it, and
+threw an old piece of canvas over it. He took out of his right-hand pocket
+a typewritten letter, and tore it into small pieces and threw them into
+the trash-basket. Then he took out of his left-hand pocket the other
+paper, with the drawing of Ackerman&rsquo;s house. He went to the bookcase and
+with shaking fingers struck a match, picked out the little redbound book
+entitled &ldquo;Sabotage,&rdquo; and stuck the paper inside, and put the book back in
+place. Then he climbed out on the fire-escape and dropped to the ground,
+jumped over the fence, and hurried down the alley to where Nell was
+waiting for him.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;It&rsquo;s for my country!&rdquo; he was whispering to himself.
+</p>
+<p>
+<br /><br />
+</p>
+<hr />
+<p>
+<a name="link2H_4_0043" id="link2H_4_0043"> </a>
+</p>
+<div style="height: 4em;">
+<br /><br /><br /><br />
+</div>
+<h2>
+Section 43
+</h2>
+<p>
+The job was now complete, except for getting McCormick to the rendezvous
+next morning. Nell had prepared and would mail in the postoffice a special
+delivery letter addressed to McCormick&rsquo;s home. This would be delivered
+about seven o&rsquo;clock in the morning, and inside was a typewritten note, as
+follows:
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Mac: Come to Room 17 of the studios at eight in the morning. Very
+important. Our plan is all ready, my part is done. Joe.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+Nell figured that McCormick would take this to be a message from Angell.
+He wouldn&rsquo;t know what it was about, but he&rsquo;d be all the more certain to
+come and find out. The essential thing was that the raid by the detectives
+must occur the very minute the conspirators got together, for as soon as
+they compared notes they would become suspicious, and might scatter at
+once. McGivney must have his men ready; he must be notified and have
+plenty of time to get them ready.
+</p>
+<p>
+But there was a serious objection to this&mdash;if McGivney had time, he
+would demand a talk with Peter, and Nell was sure that Peter couldn&rsquo;t
+stand a cross-questioning at McGivney&rsquo;s hands. Peter, needless to say,
+agreed with her; his heart threatened to collapse at the thought of such
+an ordeal. What Peter really wanted to do was to quit the whole thing
+right there and then; but he dared not say so, he dared not face the
+withering scorn of his confederate. Peter clenched his hands and set his
+teeth, and when he passed a street light he turned his face away, so that
+Nell might not read the humiliating terror written there. But Nell read it
+all the same; Nell believed that she was dealing with a quivering,
+pasty-faced coward, and proceeded on that basis; she worked out the plans,
+she gave Peter his orders, and she stuck by him to see that he carried
+them out.
+</p>
+<p>
+Peter had McGivney&rsquo;s home telephone number, which he was only supposed to
+use in the most desperate emergency. He was to use it now, and tell
+McGivney that he had just caught some members of the I. W. W., with Pat
+McCormick as their leader, preparing to blow up some people with dynamite
+bombs. They had some bombs in a suit-case in their headquarters, and were
+just starting out with other bombs in their pockets. Peter must follow
+them, otherwise he would lose them, and some crime might be committed
+before he could interfere. McGivney must have his agents ready with
+automobiles to swoop down upon any place that Peter indicated. Peter would
+follow up the conspirators, and phone McGivney again at the first
+opportunity he could find.
+</p>
+<p>
+Nell was especially insistent that when Peter spoke to McGivney he must
+have only a moment to spare, no time for questions, and he must not stop
+to answer any. He must be in a state of trembling excitement; and Peter
+was sure that would be very easy! He rehearsed over to Nell every word he
+must say, and just how he was to cut short the conversation and hang up
+the receiver. Then he went into an all night drug-store just around the
+corner from the headquarters, and from a telephone booth called McGivney&rsquo;s
+home.
+</p>
+<p>
+It was an apartment house, and after some delay Peter heard the voice of
+his employer, surly with sleep. But Peter waked him up quickly. &ldquo;Mr.
+McGivney, there&rsquo;s a dynamite plot!&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;<i>What</i>?&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;I. W. W. They&rsquo;ve got bombs in a suit-case! They&rsquo;re starting off to blow
+somebody up tonight.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;By God! What do you mean? Who?&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;I dunno yet. I only heard part of it, and I&rsquo;ve got to go. They&rsquo;re
+starting, I&rsquo;ve got to follow them. I may lose them and it&rsquo;ll be too late.
+You hear me, I&rsquo;ve got to follow them!&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;I hear you. What do you want me to do?&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;I&rsquo;ll phone you again the first chance I get. You have your men ready, a
+dozen of them! Have automobiles, so you can come quick. You get me?&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Yes, but&mdash;&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;I can&rsquo;t talk any more, I may lose them, I haven&rsquo;t a second! You be at
+your phone, and have your men ready&mdash;everything ready. You get me?&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Yes, but listen, man! You sure you&rsquo;re not mistaken?&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Yes, yes, I&rsquo;m sure!&rdquo; cried Peter, his voice mounting in excitement.
+&ldquo;They&rsquo;ve got the dynamite, I tell you&mdash;everything! It&rsquo;s a man named
+Nelse.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Nelse what?&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;The man they&rsquo;re going to kill. I&rsquo;ve got to go now, you get ready.
+Good-bye!&rdquo; And Peter hung up the receiver. He had got so excited over the
+part he was playing that he sprang up and ran out of the drug-store, as if
+he really had to catch up with some I. W. W. conspirators carrying a
+dynamite bomb!
+</p>
+<p>
+But there was Nell, and they strolled down the street again. They came to
+a small park, and sat on one of the benches, because Peter&rsquo;s legs would no
+longer hold him up. Nell walked about to make sure there was no one on any
+of the other benches; then she came back and rehearsed the next scene with
+Peter. They must go over it most carefully, because before long the time
+was coming when Peter wouldn&rsquo;t have Nell to coach him, and must be
+prepared to stand on his own legs. Peter knew that, and his legs failed
+him. He wanted to back down, and declare that he couldn&rsquo;t go ahead with
+it; he wanted to go to McGivney and confess everything. Nell divined what
+was going on in his soul, and wished to save him the humiliation of having
+it known. She sat close to him on the bench, and put her hand on his as
+she talked to him, and presently Peter felt a magic thrill stealing over
+him. He ventured to put his arm about Nell, to get still more of this
+delicious sensation; and Nell permitted the embraces, for the first time
+she even encouraged them. Peter was a hero now, he was undertaking a bold
+and desperate venture; he was going to put it thru like a man, and win
+Nell&rsquo;s real admiration. &ldquo;Our country&rsquo;s at war!&rdquo; she exclaimed. &ldquo;And these
+devils are stopping it!&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+So pretty soon Peter was ready to face the whole world; Peter was ready to
+go himself and blow up the king of American City with a dynamite bomb! In
+that mood he stayed thru the small hours of the morning, sitting on the
+bench clasping his girl in his arms, and wishing she would give a little
+more time to heeding his love-making, and less to making him recite his
+lessons.
+</p>
+<p>
+<br /><br />
+</p>
+<hr />
+<p>
+<a name="link2H_4_0044" id="link2H_4_0044"> </a>
+</p>
+<div style="height: 4em;">
+<br /><br /><br /><br />
+</div>
+<h2>
+Section 44
+</h2>
+<p>
+So the day began to break and the birds to sing. The sun rose on Peter&rsquo;s
+face gray with exhaustion and the Irish apples in Nell&rsquo;s cheeks badly
+faded. But the time for action had come, and Peter went off to watch
+McCormick&rsquo;s home until seven o&rsquo;clock, when the special delivery letter was
+due to arrive.
+</p>
+<p>
+It came on time, and Peter saw McCormick come out of the house and set
+forth in the direction of the studios. It was too early for the meeting,
+so Peter figured that he would stop to get his breakfast; and sure enough
+&ldquo;Mac&rdquo; turned into, a little dairy lunch, and Peter hastened to the nearest
+telephone and called his boss.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Mr. McGivney,&rdquo; he said, &ldquo;I lost those fellows last night, but now I got
+them again. They decided not to do anything till today. They&rsquo;re having a
+meeting this morning and we&rsquo;ve a chance to nab them all.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Where?&rdquo; demanded McGivney.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Room seventeen in the studios; but don&rsquo;t let any of your men go near
+there, till I make sure the right fellows are in.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Listen here, Peter Gudge!&rdquo; cried McGivney. &ldquo;Is this straight goods?&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;My God!&rdquo; cried Peter. &ldquo;What do you take me for? I tell you they&rsquo;ve got
+loads of dynamite.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;What have they done with it?&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;They&rsquo;ve got some in their headquarters. About the rest I dunno. They
+carried it off and I lost them last night. But then I found a note in my
+pocket&mdash;they were inviting me to come in.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;By God!&rdquo; exclaimed the rat-faced man.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;We&rsquo;ve got the whole thing, I tell you! Have you got your men ready?&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Yes.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Well then, have them come to the corner of Seventh and Washington
+Streets, and you come to Eighth and Washington. Meet me there just as
+quick as you can.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;I get you,&rdquo; was the answer, and Peter hung up, and rushed off to the
+appointed rendezvous. He was so nervous that he had to sit on the steps of
+a building. As time passed and McGivney didn&rsquo;t appear, wild imaginings
+began to torment him. Maybe McGivney hadn&rsquo;t understood him correctly! Or
+maybe his automobile might break down! Or his telephone might have got out
+of order at precisely the critical moment! He and his men would arrive too
+late, they would find the trap sprung, and the prey escaped.
+</p>
+<p>
+Ten minutes passed, fifteen minutes, twenty minutes. At last an automobile
+rushed up the street, and McGivney stepped out, and the automobile sped
+on. Peter got McGivney&rsquo;s eye, and then stepped back into the shelter of a
+doorway. McGivney followed. &ldquo;Have you got them?&rdquo; he cried.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;I d-d-dunno!&rdquo; chattered Peter. &ldquo;They s-s-said they were c-coming at
+eight!&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Let me see that note!&rdquo; commanded McGivney; so Peter pulled out one of
+Nell&rsquo;s notes which he had saved for himself:
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;If you really believe in a bold stroke for the workers&rsquo; rights, meet me
+in the studios, Room 17, tomorrow morning at eight o&rsquo;clock. No names and
+no talk. Action!&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;You found that in your pocket?&rdquo; demanded the other.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Y-yes, sir.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;And you&rsquo;ve no idea who put it there.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;N-no, but I think Joe Angell&mdash;&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+McGivney looked at his watch. &ldquo;You&rsquo;ve got twenty minutes yet,&rdquo; be said.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;You got the dicks?&rdquo; asked Peter.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;A dozen of them. What&rsquo;s your idea now?&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+Peter stammered out his suggestions. There was a little grocery store just
+across the street from the entrance to the studio building. Peter would go
+in there, and pretend to get something to eat, and would watch thru the
+window, and the moment he saw the right men come in, he would hurry out
+and signal to McGivney, who would be in a drugstore at the next corner.
+McGivney must keep out of sight himself, because the &ldquo;Reds&rdquo; knew him as
+one of Guffey&rsquo;s agents.
+</p>
+<p>
+It wasn&rsquo;t necessary to repeat anything twice. McGivney was keyed up and
+ready for business, and Peter hurried down the street, and stepped into
+the little grocery store without being observed by anyone. He ordered some
+crackers and cheese, and seated himself on a box by the window and
+pretended to eat. But his hands were trembling so that he could hardly get
+the food into his mouth; and this was just as well, because his mouth was
+dry with fright, and crackers and cheese are articles of diet not adapted
+to such a condition.
+</p>
+<p>
+He kept his eyes glued on the dingy doorway of the old studio building,
+and presently&mdash;hurrah!&mdash;he saw McCormick coming down the street!
+The Irish boy turned into the building, and a couple of minutes later came
+Gus the sailor, and before another five minutes had passed here came Joe
+Angell and Henderson. They were walking quickly, absorbed in conversation,
+and Peter could imagine he heard them talking about those mysterious
+notes, and who could be the writer, and what the devil could they mean?
+</p>
+<p>
+Peter was now wild with nervousness; he was afraid somebody in the grocery
+store would notice him, and he made desperate efforts to eat the crackers
+and cheese, and scattered the crumbs all over himself and over the floor.
+Should he wait for Jerry Rudd, or should he take those he had already? He
+had got up and started for the door, when he saw the last of his victims
+coming down the street. Jerry was walking slowly, and Peter couldn&rsquo;t wait
+until he got inside. A car was passing, and Peter took the chance to slip
+out and bolt for the drug store. Before he had got half way there McGivney
+had seen him, and was on the run to the next corner.
+</p>
+<p>
+Peter waited only long enough to see a couple of automobiles come whirling
+down the street, packed solid with husky detectives. Then he turned off
+and hurried down a side street. He managed to get a couple of blocks away,
+and then his nerves gave way entirely, and he sat down on the curbstone
+and began to cry&mdash;just the way little Jennie had cried when he told
+her he couldn&rsquo;t marry her! People stopped to stare at him, and one
+benevolent old gentleman came up and tapped him on the shoulder and asked
+what was the trouble. Peter, between his tear-stained fingers, gasped: &ldquo;My
+m-m-mother died!&rdquo; And so they let him alone, and after a while he got up
+and hurried off again.
+</p>
+<p>
+<br /><br />
+</p>
+<hr />
+<p>
+<a name="link2H_4_0045" id="link2H_4_0045"> </a>
+</p>
+<div style="height: 4em;">
+<br /><br /><br /><br />
+</div>
+<h2>
+Section 45
+</h2>
+<p>
+Peter was now in a state of utter funk. He knew that he would have to face
+McGivney, and he just couldn&rsquo;t do it. All he wanted was Nell; and Nell,
+knowing that he would want her, had agreed to be in the park at half past
+eight. She had warned him not to talk to a soul until he had talked to
+her. Meantime she had gone home and renewed her Irish roses with French
+rouge, and restored her energy with coffee and cigarettes, and now she was
+waiting for him, smiling serenely, as fresh as any bird or flower in the
+park that summer morning. She asked him in even tones how things had gone,
+and when Peter began to stammer that he didn&rsquo;t think he could face
+McGivney, she proceeded to build up his courage once more. She let him put
+his arms about her, even there in broad daylight; she whispered to him to
+get himself together, to be a man, and worthy of her.
+</p>
+<p>
+What had he to be afraid of, anyway? They hadn&rsquo;t a single thing on him,
+and there was no possible way they could get anything. His hands were
+clean all the way thru, and all he had to do was to stick it out; he must
+make up his mind in advance, that no matter what happened, he would never
+break down, he would never vary from the story he had rehearsed with her.
+She made him go over the story again; how on the previous evening, at the
+gathering in the I. W. W. headquarters, they had talked about killing
+Nelse Ackerman as a means of bringing the war to an end. And after the
+talk he had heard Joe Angell whisper to Jerry Rudd that he had the makings
+of a bomb already; he had a suit-case full of dynamite stored there in the
+closet, and he and Pat McCormick had been planning to pull off something
+that very night. Peter had gone out, but had watched outside, and had seen
+Angell, Henderson, Rudd and Gus come out. Peter had noticed that Angell&rsquo;s
+pockets were stuffed, and had assumed that they were going to do their
+dynamiting, so he had phoned to McGivney from the drug-store. By this
+phoning he had missed the crowd, and then he had been ashamed and afraid
+to tell McGivney, and had spent the night wandering in the park. But early
+in the morning he had found the note, and had understood that it must have
+been slipped into his pocket, and that the conspirators wanted him to come
+in on their scheme. That was all, except for three or four sentences or
+fragments of sentences which Peter had overheard between Joe Angell and
+Jerry Rudd. Nell made him learn these sentences by heart, and she insisted
+that he must not under any circumstances try to remember or be persuaded
+to remember anything further.
+</p>
+<p>
+At last Peter was adjudged ready for the ordeal, and went to Room 427 in
+the American House, and threw himself on the bed. He was so exhausted that
+once or twice he dozed; but then he would think of some new question that
+McGivney might ask him, and would start into wakefulness. At last he heard
+a key turn, and started up. There entered one of the detectives, a man
+named Hammett. &ldquo;Hello, Gudge,&rdquo; said he. &ldquo;The boss wants you to get
+arrested.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Arrested!&rdquo; exclaimed Peter. &ldquo;Good Lord!&rdquo; He had a sudden swift vision of
+himself shut up in a cell with those Reds, and forced to listen to &ldquo;hard
+luck stories.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Well,&rdquo; said Hammett, &ldquo;we&rsquo;re arresting all the Reds, and if we skip you,
+they&rsquo;ll be suspicious. You better go somewhere right away and get caught.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+Peter saw the wisdom of this, and after a little thought he chose the home
+of Miriam Yankovitch. She was a real Red, and didn&rsquo;t like him; but if he
+was arrested in her home, she would have to like him, and it would tend to
+make him &ldquo;solid&rdquo; with the &ldquo;left wingers.&rdquo; He gave the address to Hammett,
+and added, &ldquo;You better come as soon as you can, because she may kick me
+out of the house.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;That&rsquo;s all right,&rdquo; replied the other, with a laugh. &ldquo;Tell her the police
+are after you, and ask her to hide you.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+So Peter hurried over to the Jewish quarter of the city, and knocked on a
+door in the top story of a tenement house. The door was opened by a stout
+woman with her sleeves rolled up and her arms covered with soap-suds. Yes,
+Miriam was in. She was out of a job just now, said Mrs. Yankovitch. They
+had fired her because she talked Socialism. Miriam entered the room,
+giving the unexpected visitor a cold stare that said as plain as words:
+&ldquo;Jennie Todd!&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+But this changed at once when Peter told her that he had been to I. W. W.
+headquarters and found the police in charge. They had made a raid, and
+claimed to have discovered some kind of plot; fortunately Peter had seen
+the crowd outside, and had got away. Miriam took him into an inside room
+and asked him a hundred questions which he could not answer. He knew
+nothing, except that he had been to a meeting at headquarters the night
+before, and this morning he had gone there to get a book, and had seen the
+crowd and run.
+</p>
+<p>
+Half an hour later came a bang on the door, and Peter dived under the bed.
+The door was burst open, and he heard angry voices commanding, and
+vehement protests from Miriam and her mother. To judge from the sounds,
+the men began throwing the furniture this way and that; suddenly a hand
+came under the bed, and Peter was grabbed by the ankle, and hauled forth
+to confront four policemen in uniform.
+</p>
+<p>
+It was an awkward situation, because apparently these policemen hadn&rsquo;t
+been told that Peter was a spy; the boobs thought they were getting a real
+dynamiter! One grabbed each of Peter&rsquo;s wrists, and another kept him and
+Miriam covered with a revolver, while the fourth proceeded to go thru his
+pockets, looking for bombs. When they didn&rsquo;t find any, they seemed vexed,
+and shook him and hustled him about, and made clear they would be glad of
+some pretext to batter in his head. Peter was careful not to give them
+such a pretext; he was frightened and humble, and kept declaring that he
+didn&rsquo;t know anything, he hadn&rsquo;t done any harm.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;We&rsquo;ll see about that, young fellow!&rdquo; said the officer, as he snapped the
+handcuffs on Peter&rsquo;s wrists. Then, while one of them remained on guard
+with the revolver, the other three proceeded to ransack the place, pulling
+out the bureau-drawers and kicking the contents this way and that,
+grabbing every scrap of writing they could find and jamming it into a
+couple of suit-cases. There were books with red bindings and terrifying
+titles, but no bombs, and no weapons more dangerous than a carving knife
+and Miriam&rsquo;s tongue. The girl stood there with her black eyes flashing
+lightnings, and told the police exactly what she thought of them. She
+didn&rsquo;t know what had happened in the I. W. W. headquarters, but she knew
+that whatever it was, it was a frame-up, and she dared them to arrest her,
+and almost succeeded in her fierce purpose. However, the police contented
+themselves with kicking over the washtub and its contents, and took their
+departure, leaving Mrs. Yankovitch screaming in the midst of a flood.
+</p>
+<p>
+<br /><br />
+</p>
+<hr />
+<p>
+<a name="link2H_4_0046" id="link2H_4_0046"> </a>
+</p>
+<div style="height: 4em;">
+<br /><br /><br /><br />
+</div>
+<h2>
+Section 46
+</h2>
+<p>
+They dragged Peter out thru a swarming tenement crowd, and clapped him
+into an automobile, and whirled him away to police headquarters, where
+they entered him in due form and put him in a cell. He was uneasy right
+away, because he had failed to arrange with Hammett how long he was to
+stay locked up. But barely an hour had passed before a jailer came, and
+took him to a private room, where he found himself confronted by McGivney
+and Hammett, also the Chief of Police of the city, a deputy district
+attorney, and last but most important of all&mdash;Guffey. It was the head
+detective of the Traction Trust who took Peter in charge.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Now, Gudge,&rdquo; said he, &ldquo;what&rsquo;s this job you&rsquo;ve been putting up on us?&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+It struck Peter like a blow in the face. His heart went down, his jaw
+dropped, he stared like an idiot. Good God!
+</p>
+<p>
+But he remembered Nell&rsquo;s last solemn words: &ldquo;Stick it out, Peter; stick it
+out!&rdquo; So he cried: &ldquo;What do you mean, Mr. Guffey?&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Sit down in that chair there,&rdquo; said Guffey. &ldquo;Now, tell us what you know
+about this whole business. Begin at the beginning and tell us everything&mdash;every
+word.&rdquo; So Peter began. He had been at a meeting at the I. W. W.
+headquarters the previous evening. There had been a long talk about the
+inactivity of the organization, and what could be done to oppose the
+draft. Peter detailed the arguments, the discussion of violence, of
+dynamite and killing, the mention of Nelse Ackerman and the other
+capitalists who were to be put out of the way. He embellished all this,
+and exaggerated it greatly&mdash;it being the one place where Nell had
+said he could do no harm by exaggerating.
+</p>
+<p>
+Then he told how after the meeting had broken up he had noticed several of
+the men whispering among themselves. By pretending to be getting a book
+from the bookcase he had got close to Joe Angell and Jerry Rudd; he had
+heard various words and fragments of sentences, &ldquo;dynamite,&rdquo; &ldquo;suit-case in
+the cupboard,&rdquo; &ldquo;Nelse,&rdquo; and so on. And when the crowd went out he noticed
+that Angell&rsquo;s pockets were bulging, and assumed that he had the bombs, and
+that they were going to do the job. He rushed to the drug-store and phoned
+McGivney. It took a long time to get McGivney, and when he had given his
+message and run out again, the crowd was out of sight. Peter was in
+despair, he was ashamed to confront McGivney, he wandered about the
+streets for hours looking for the crowd. He spent the rest of the night in
+the park. But then in the morning he discovered the piece of paper in his
+pocket, and understood that somebody had slipped it to him, intending to
+invite him to the conspiracy; so he had notified McGivney, and that was
+all he knew.
+</p>
+<p>
+McGivney began to cross-question him. He had heard Joe Angell talking to
+Jerry Rudd; had he heard him talking to anybody else? Had he heard any of
+the others talking? Just what had he heard Joe Angell say? Peter must
+repeat every word all over. This time, as instructed by Nell, he
+remembered one sentence more, and repeated this sentence: &ldquo;Mac put it in
+the &lsquo;sab-cat.&rsquo;&rdquo; He saw the others exchange glances. &ldquo;That&rsquo;s just what I
+heard,&rdquo; said Peter&mdash;&ldquo;just those words. I couldn&rsquo;t figure out what
+they meant?&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Sab-cat?&rdquo; said the Chief of Police, a burly figure with a brown moustache
+and a quid of tobacco tucked in the corner of his mouth. &ldquo;That means
+‘sabotage,&rsquo; don&rsquo;t it?&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Yes,&rdquo; said the rat-faced man.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Do you know anything in the office that has to do with sabotage?&rdquo;
+ demanded Guffey of Peter.
+</p>
+<p>
+And Peter thought. &ldquo;No, I don&rsquo;t,&rdquo; he said.
+</p>
+<p>
+They talked among themselves for a minute or two. The Chief said they had
+got all McCormick&rsquo;s things out of his room, and might find some clue to
+the mystery in these. Guffey went to the telephone, and gave a number with
+which Peter was familiar&mdash;that of I. W. W. headquarters. &ldquo;That you,
+Al?&rdquo; he said. &ldquo;We&rsquo;re trying to find if there&rsquo;s something in those rooms
+that has to do with sabotage. Have you found anything&mdash;any apparatus
+or pictures, or writing&mdash;anything?&rdquo; Evidently the answer was in the
+negative, for Guffey said: &ldquo;Go ahead, look farther; if you get anything,
+call me at the chief&rsquo;s office quick. It may give us a lead.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+Then Guffey hung up the receiver and turned to Peter. &ldquo;Now Gudge,&rdquo; he
+said, &ldquo;that&rsquo;s all your story, is it; that&rsquo;s all you got to tell us?&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Yes, sir.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Well then, you might as well quit your fooling right away. We understand
+that you framed this thing up, and we&rsquo;re not going to be taken in.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+Peter stared at Guffey, speechless; and Guffey, for his part, took a
+couple of steps toward Peter, his brows gathering into a terrible frown,
+and his fists clenched. In a wave of sickening horror Peter remembered the
+scenes after the Preparedness Day explosion. Were they going to put him
+thru that again?
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;We&rsquo;ll have a show-down, Gudge, right here,&rdquo; the head detective continued.
+&ldquo;You tell us all this stuff about Angell&mdash;his talk with Jerry Rudd,
+and his pockets stuffed with bombs and all the rest of it&mdash;and he
+denies every word of it.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;But, m-m-my God! Mr. Guffey,&rdquo; gasped Peter. &ldquo;Of <i>course</i> he&rsquo;ll deny
+it!&rdquo; Peter could hardly believe his ears&mdash;that they were taking
+seriously the denial of a dynamiter, and quoting it to him!
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Yes, Gudge,&rdquo; responded Guffey, &ldquo;but you might as well know the truth now
+as later&mdash;Angell is one of our men; we&rsquo;ve had him planted on these
+‘wobblies&rsquo; for the last year.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+The bottom fell out of Peter&rsquo;s world; Peter went tumbling heels over head&mdash;down,
+down into infinite abysses of horror and despair. Joe Angell was a secret
+agent like himself! The Blue-eyed Angell, who talked dynamite and
+assassination at a hundred radical gatherings, who shocked the boldest
+revolutionists by his reckless language&mdash;Angell a spy, and Peter had
+proceeded to plant a &ldquo;frame-up&rdquo; on him!
+</p>
+<p>
+<br /><br />
+</p>
+<hr />
+<p>
+<a name="link2H_4_0047" id="link2H_4_0047"> </a>
+</p>
+<div style="height: 4em;">
+<br /><br /><br /><br />
+</div>
+<h2>
+Section 47
+</h2>
+<p>
+It was all up with Peter. He would go back into the hole! He would be
+tortured for the balance of his days! In his ears rang the shrieks of ten
+thousand lost souls and the clang of ten thousand trumpets of doom; and
+yet, in the midst of all the noise and confusion, Peter managed somehow to
+hear the voice of Nell, whispering over and over again: &ldquo;Stick it out,
+Peter; stick it out!&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+He flung out his hands and started toward his accuser. &ldquo;Mr. Guffey, as God
+is my witness, I don&rsquo;t know a thing about it but what I&rsquo;ve told you.
+That&rsquo;s what happened, and if Joe Angell tells you anything different he&rsquo;s
+lying.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;But why should he lie?&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;I don&rsquo;t know why; I don&rsquo;t know anything about it!&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+Here was where Peter reaped the advantage of his lifelong training as an
+intriguer. In the midst of all his fright and his despair, Peter&rsquo;s
+subconscious mind was working, thinking of schemes. &ldquo;Maybe Angell was
+framing something up on you! Maybe he was fixing some plan of his own, and
+I come along and spoiled it; I sprung it too soon. But I tell you it&rsquo;s
+straight goods I&rsquo;ve given you.&rdquo; And Peter&rsquo;s very anguish gave him the
+vehemence to check Guffey&rsquo;s certainty. As he rushed on, Peter could read
+in the eyes of the detective that he wasn&rsquo;t really as sure as he talked.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Did you see that suit-case?&rdquo; he demanded.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;No, I didn&rsquo;t see no suit-case!&rdquo; answered Peter. &ldquo;I don&rsquo;t even know if
+there was a suit-case. I only know I heard Joe Angell say &lsquo;suit-case,&rsquo; and
+I heard him say &lsquo;dynamite.&rsquo;&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Did you see anybody writing anything in the place?&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;No, I didn&rsquo;t,&rdquo; said Peter. &ldquo;But I seen Henderson sitting at the table
+working at some papers he had in his pocket, and I seen him tear something
+up and throw it into the trash-basket.&rdquo; Peter saw the others look at one
+another, and he knew that he was beginning to make headway.
+</p>
+<p>
+A moment later came a diversion that helped to save him. The telephone
+rang, and the Chief of Police answered and nodded to Guffey, who came and
+took the receiver. &ldquo;A book?&rdquo; he cried, with excitement in his tone. &ldquo;What
+sort of a plan? Well, tell one of your men to take the car and bring that
+book and the plan here to the chief&rsquo;s office as quick as he can move;
+don&rsquo;t lose a moment, everything may depend on it.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+And then Guffey turned to the others. &ldquo;He says they found a book on
+sabotage in the book-case, and in it there&rsquo;s some kind of a drawing of a
+house. The book has McCormick&rsquo;s name in it.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+There were many exclamations over this, and Peter had time to think before
+the company turned upon him again. The Chief of Police now questioned him,
+and then the deputy of the district attorney questioned him; still he
+stuck to his story. &ldquo;My God!&rdquo; he cried. &ldquo;Would you think I&rsquo;d be mad enough
+to frame up a job like this? Where&rsquo;d I get all that stuff? Where&rsquo;d I get
+that dynamite?&rdquo;&mdash;Peter almost bit off his tongue as he realized the
+dreadful slip he had made. No one had ever told him that the suit-case
+actually contained dynamite! How had he known there was dynamite in it? He
+was desperately trying to think of some way he could have heard; but, as
+it happened, no one of the five men caught him up. They all knew that
+there was dynamite in the suit-case; they knew it with overwhelming and
+tremendous certainty, and they overlooked entirely the fact that Peter
+wasn&rsquo;t supposed to know it. So close to the edge of ruin can a man come
+and yet escape!
+</p>
+<p>
+Peter made haste to get away from that danger-spot. &ldquo;Does Joe Angell deny
+that he was whispering to Jerry Rudd?&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;He doesn&rsquo;t remember that,&rdquo; said Guffey. &ldquo;He may have talked with him
+apart, but nothing special, there wasn&rsquo;t any conspiracy.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Does he deny that he talked about dynamite?&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;They may have talked about it in the general discussion, but he didn&rsquo;t
+whisper anything.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;But I heard him!&rdquo; cried Peter, whose quick wits had thought up a way of
+escape, &ldquo;I know what I heard! It was just before they were leaving, and
+somebody had turned out some of the lights. He was standing with his back
+to me, and I went over to the book-case right behind him.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+Here the deputy district attorney put in. He was a young man, a trifle
+easier to fool than the others. &ldquo;Are you sure it was Joe Angell?&rdquo; he
+demanded.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;My God! Of course it was!&rdquo; said Peter. &ldquo;I couldn&rsquo;t have been mistaken.&rdquo;
+ But he let his voice die away, and a note of bewilderment be heard in it.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;You say he was whispering?&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Yes, he was whispering.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;But mightn&rsquo;t it have been somebody else?&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Why, I don&rsquo;t know what to say,&rdquo; said Peter. &ldquo;I thought for sure it was
+Joe Angell; but I had my back turned, I&rsquo;d been talking to Grady, the
+secretary, and then I turned around and moved over to the book-case.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;How many men were there in the room?&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;About twenty, I guess.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Were the lights turned off before you turned around, or after?&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;I don&rsquo;t remember that; it might have been after.&rdquo; And suddenly poor
+bewildered Peter cried: &ldquo;It makes me feel like a fool. Of course I ought
+to have talked to the fellow, and made sure it was Joe Angell before I
+turned away again; but I thought sure it was him. The idea it could be
+anybody else never crossed my mind.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;But you&rsquo;re sure it was Jerry Rudd that was talking to him?&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Yes, it was Jerry Rudd, because his face was toward me.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Was it Rudd or was it the other fellow that made the reply about the
+‘sab-cat&rsquo;?&rdquo; And then Peter was bewildered and tied himself up, and led
+them into a long process of cross-questioning; and in the middle of it
+came the detective, bringing the book on sabotage with McCormick&rsquo;s name
+written in the fly-leaf, and with the ground plan of a house between the
+pages.
+</p>
+<p>
+They all crowded around to look at the plan, and the idea occurred to
+several of them at once: Could it be Nelse Ackerman&rsquo;s house? The Chief of
+Police turned to his phone, and called up the great banker&rsquo;s secretary.
+Would he please describe Mr. Ackerman&rsquo;s house; and the chief listened to
+the description. &ldquo;There&rsquo;s a cross mark on this plan&mdash;the north side
+of the house, a little to the west of the center. What could that be?&rdquo;
+ Then, &ldquo;My God!&rdquo; And then, &ldquo;Will you come down here to my office right away
+and bring the architect&rsquo;s plan of the house so we can compare them?&rdquo; The
+Chief turned to the others, and said, &ldquo;That cross mark in the house is the
+sleeping porch on the second floor where Mr. Ackerman sleeps!&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+So then they forgot for a while their doubts about Peter. It was
+fascinating, this work of tracing out the details of the conspiracy, and
+fitting them together like a picture puzzle. It seemed quite certain to
+all of them that this insignificant and scared little man whom they had
+been examining could never have prepared so ingenious and intricate a
+design. No, it must really be that some master mind, some devilish
+intriguer was at work to spread red ruin in American City!
+</p>
+<p>
+<br /><br />
+</p>
+<hr />
+<p>
+<a name="link2H_4_0048" id="link2H_4_0048"> </a>
+</p>
+<div style="height: 4em;">
+<br /><br /><br /><br />
+</div>
+<h2>
+Section 48
+</h2>
+<p>
+They dismissed Peter for the present, sending him back to his cell. He
+stayed there for two days with no one to advise him, and no hint as to his
+fate. They did not allow newspapers in the jail, but they had left Peter
+his money, and so on the second day he succeeded in bribing one of his
+keepers and obtaining a copy of the American City &ldquo;Times,&rdquo; with all the
+details of the amazing sensation spread out on the front page.
+</p>
+<p>
+For thirty years the &ldquo;Times&rdquo; had been standing for law and order against
+all the forces of red riot and revolution; for thirty years the &ldquo;Times&rdquo;
+ had been declaring that labor leaders and walking delegates and Socialists
+and Anarchists were all one and the same thing, and all placed their
+reliance fundamentally upon one instrument, the dynamite bomb. Here at
+last the &ldquo;Times&rdquo; was vindicated, this was the &ldquo;Times&rdquo; great day! They had
+made the most of it, not merely on the front page, but on two other pages,
+with pictures of all the conspicuous conspirators, including Peter, and
+pictures of the I. W. W. headquarters, and the suit-case, and the sticks
+of dynamite and the fuses and the clock; also of the &ldquo;studio&rdquo; in which the
+Reds had been trapped, and of Nikitin, the Russian anarchist who owned
+this den. Also there were columns of speculation about the case, signed
+statements and interviews with leading clergymen and bankers, the
+president of the Chamber of Commerce and the secretary of the Real Estate
+Exchange. Also there was a two-column, double-leaded editorial, pointing
+out how the &ldquo;Times&rdquo; had been saying this for thirty years, and not failing
+to connect up the case with the Goober case, and the Lackman case, and the
+case of three pacifist clergymen who had been arrested several days before
+for attempting to read the Sermon on the Mount at a public meeting.
+</p>
+<p>
+And Peter knew that he, Peter Gudge, had done all this! The forces of law
+and order owed it all to one obscure little secret service agent! Peter
+would get no credit, of course; the Chief of Police and the district
+attorney were issuing solemn statements, taking the honors to themselves,
+and with never one hint that they owed anything to the secret service
+department of the Traction Trust. That was necessary, of course; for the
+sake of appearances it had to be pretended that the public authorities
+were doing the work, exercising their legal functions in due and regular
+form. It would never do to have the mob suspect that these activities were
+being financed and directed by the big business interests of the city. But
+all the same, it made Peter sore! He and McGivney and the rest of Guffey&rsquo;s
+men had a contempt for the public officials, whom they regarded as
+&ldquo;pikers&rdquo;; the officials had very little money to spend, and very little
+power. If you really wanted to get anything done in America, you didn&rsquo;t go
+to any public official, you went to the big men of affairs, the ones who
+had the &ldquo;stuff,&rdquo; and were used to doing things quickly and efficiently. It
+was the same in this business of spying as in everything else.
+</p>
+<p>
+Now and then Peter would realize how close he had come to ghastly ruin. He
+would have qualms of terror, picturing himself shut up in the hole, and
+Guffey proceeding to torture the truth out of him. But he was able to calm
+these fears. He was sure this dynamite conspiracy would prove too big a
+temptation for the authorities; it would sweep them away in spite of
+themselves. They would have to go thru with it, they would have to stand
+by Peter.
+</p>
+<p>
+And sure enough, on the evening of the second day a jailer came and said:
+&ldquo;You&rsquo;re to be let out.&rdquo; And Peter was ushered thru the barred doors and
+turned loose without another word.
+</p>
+<p>
+<br /><br />
+</p>
+<hr />
+<p>
+<a name="link2H_4_0049" id="link2H_4_0049"> </a>
+</p>
+<div style="height: 4em;">
+<br /><br /><br /><br />
+</div>
+<h2>
+Section 49
+</h2>
+<p>
+Peter went to Room 427 of the American House and there was McGivney
+waiting for him. McGivney said nothing about any suspicion of Peter, nor
+did Peter say anything&mdash;he understood that by-gones were to be
+by-gones. The authorities were going to take this gift which the fates had
+handed to them on a silver platter. For years they had been wanting to get
+these Reds, and now magically and incredibly, they had got them!
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Now, Gudge,&rdquo; said McGivney, &ldquo;here&rsquo;s your story. You&rsquo;ve been arrested on
+suspicion, you&rsquo;ve been cross-questioned and put thru the third degree, but
+you succeeded in satisfying the police that you didn&rsquo;t know anything about
+it, and they&rsquo;ve released you. We&rsquo;ve released a couple of others at the
+same time, so&rsquo;s to cover you all right; and now you&rsquo;re to go back and find
+out all you can about the Reds, and what they&rsquo;re doing, and what they&rsquo;re
+planning. They&rsquo;re shouting, of course, that this is a &lsquo;frame-up.&rsquo; You must
+find out what they know. You must be careful, of course&mdash;watch every
+step you take, because they&rsquo;ll be suspicious for a while. We&rsquo;ve been to
+your room and turned things upside down a bit, so that will help to make
+it look all right.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+Peter sallied forth; but he did not go to see the Reds immediately. He
+spent an hour dodging about the city to make sure no one was shadowing
+him; then he called up Nell at a telephone number she had given him, and
+an hour later they met in the park, and she flew to his arms and kissed
+him with rapturous delight. He had to tell her everything, of course; and
+when she learned that Joe Angell was a secret agent, she first stared at
+him in horror, and then she laughed until she almost cried. When Peter
+told how he had met that situation and got away with it, for the first
+time he was sure that he had won her love.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Now, Peter,&rdquo; she said, when they were calm again, we&rsquo;ve got to get action
+at once. The papers are full of it, and old Nelse Ackerman must be scared
+out of his life. Here&rsquo;s a letter I&rsquo;m going to mail tonight&mdash;you
+notice I&rsquo;ve used a different typewriter from the one I used last time. I
+went into a typewriter store, and paid them to let me use one for a few
+minutes, so they can never trace this letter to me.
+</p>
+<p>
+The letter was addressed to Nelson Ackerman at his home, and marked
+&ldquo;Personal.&rdquo; Peter read:
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;This is a message from a friend. The Reds had an agent in your home. They
+drew a plan of your house. The police are hiding things from you, because
+they can&rsquo;t get the truth, and don&rsquo;t want you to know they are incompetent.
+There is a man who discovered all this plot, and you should see him. They
+won&rsquo;t let you see him if they can help it. You should demand to see him.
+But do not mention this letter. If you do not get to the right man, I will
+write you again. If you keep this a secret, you may trust me to help you
+to the end. If you tell anybody, I will be unable to help you.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Now,&rdquo; said Nell, &ldquo;when he gets that letter he&rsquo;ll get busy, and you&rsquo;ve got
+to know what to do, because of course everything depends on that.&rdquo; So Nell
+proceeded to drill Peter for his meeting with the King of American City.
+Peter now stood in such awe of her judgment that he learned his lessons
+quite patiently, and promised solemnly that he would do exactly what she
+said and nothing else. He reaped his reward of kisses, and went home to
+sleep the sleep of the just.
+</p>
+<p>
+Next morning Peter set out to do some of his work for McGivney, so that
+McGivney would have no ground for complaint. He went to see Miriam
+Yankovich, and this time Miriam caught him by his two hands and wrung
+them, and Peter knew that he had atoned for his crime against little
+Jennie. Peter was a martyr once more. He told how he had been put thru the
+third degree; and she told how the water from the washtub had leaked thru
+the ceiling, and the plaster had fallen, and ruined the dinner of a poor
+workingman&rsquo;s family.
+</p>
+<p>
+Also, she told him all about the frame-up as the Reds saw it. Andrews, the
+lawyer, was demanding the right to see the prisoners, but this was
+refused, and they were all being held without bail. On the previous
+evening Miriam had attended a gathering at Andrews&rsquo; home, at which the
+case was talked out. All the I. W. W.&lsquo;s declared that the thing was the
+rankest kind of frame-up; the notes were obviously fake, and the dynamite
+had undoubtedly been planted by the police. They had used it as a pretext
+to shut up the I. W. W. headquarters, and to arrest a score of radicals.
+Worst of all, of course, was the propaganda; the hideous stories with
+which they were filling the papers. Had Peter seen this morning&rsquo;s &ldquo;Times?&rdquo;
+ A perfectly unmistakable incitement to mobs to gather and lynch the Reds!
+</p>
+<p>
+<br /><br />
+</p>
+<hr />
+<p>
+<a name="link2H_4_0050" id="link2H_4_0050"> </a>
+</p>
+<div style="height: 4em;">
+<br /><br /><br /><br />
+</div>
+<h2>
+Section 50
+</h2>
+<p>
+From Miriam&rsquo;s, Peter went back to Room 427. It was Nell&rsquo;s idea that Nelse
+Ackerman would not lose a minute next morning; and sure enough, Peter
+found a note on the dressing-table: &ldquo;Wait for me, I want to see you.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+Peter waited, and before long McGivney came in and sat down in front of
+him, and began very solemnly: &ldquo;Now Peter Gudge, you know I&rsquo;m your friend.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Yes, of course.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;I&rsquo;ve stood by you,&rdquo; said McGivney. &ldquo;If it hadn&rsquo;t been for me, the boss
+would have had you in the hole right now, trying to sweat you into
+confessing you planted that dynamite. I want you to know that, and I want
+you to know that I&rsquo;m going to stand by you, and I expect you to stand by
+me and give me a square deal.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Why, sure!&rdquo; said Peter. &ldquo;What is it?&rdquo; Then McGivney proceeded to explain:
+Old Nelse Ackerman had got the idea that the police were holding back
+something from him. He was scared out of his wits about this case, of
+course. He had himself shut up in a cupboard at night, and made his wife
+pull down the curtains of her limousine when she went driving. And now he
+was insisting that he must have a talk with the man who had discovered
+this plot against him. McGivney hated to take the risk of having Peter
+become acquainted with anybody, but Nelse Ackerman was a man whose word
+was law. Really, he was Peter&rsquo;s employer; he had put up a lot of the money
+for the secret service work which Guffey was conducting, and neither
+Guffey or any of the city authorities dared try to fool him.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Well, that&rsquo;s all right,&rdquo; said Peter; &ldquo;it won&rsquo;t hurt for me to see him.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;He&rsquo;s going to question you about this case,&rdquo; said McGivney. &ldquo;He&rsquo;s going
+to try to find out everything he can. So you got to protect us; you got to
+make him understand that we&rsquo;ve done everything possible. You got to put us
+right with him.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+Peter promised solemnly he would do so; but McGivney wasn&rsquo;t satisfied. He
+was in a state of trepidation, and proceeded to hammer and hammer at
+Peter, impressing upon him the importance of solidarity, of keeping faith
+with his fellows. It sounded exactly like some of the I. W. W.&lsquo;s talking
+among themselves!
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;You may think, here&rsquo;s a chance to jump on us and climb out on top, but
+don&rsquo;t you forget it, Peter Gudge, we&rsquo;ve got a machine, and in the long run
+it&rsquo;s the machine that wins. We&rsquo;ve broken many a fellow that&rsquo;s tried to
+play tricks on us, and we&rsquo;ll break you. Old Nelse will get what he wants
+out of you; he&rsquo;ll offer you a big price, no doubt&mdash;but before long
+he&rsquo;ll be thru with you, and then you&rsquo;ll come back to us, and I give you
+fair warning, by God, if you play us dirty, Guffey will have you in the
+hole in a month or two, and you&rsquo;ll come out on a stretcher.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+So Peter pledged his faith again; but, seeing his chance, he added: &ldquo;Don&rsquo;t
+you think Mr. Guffey ought to do something for me, because of that plot I
+discovered?&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Yes, I think that,&rdquo; said McGivney; &ldquo;that&rsquo;s only fair.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+And so they proceeded to bargain. Peter pointed out all the dangers he had
+run, and all the credit which the others had got. Guffey hadn&rsquo;t got credit
+in the papers, but he had got it with his employers, all right, and he
+would get still more if Peter stood by him with the king of American City.
+Peter said it ought to be worth a thousand dollars, and he said he ought
+to have it right away, before he went to see the king. At which Guffey
+scowled ferociously. &ldquo;Look here, Gudge! you got the nerve to charge us
+such a price for standing by your frame-up?&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+McGivney generally treated Peter as a coward and a feeble bluffer; but he
+had learned also that there was one time when the little man completely
+changed his nature, and that was when it was a question of getting hold of
+some cash. That was the question now; and Peter met McGivney scowl for
+scowl. &ldquo;If you don&rsquo;t like my frame-up,&rdquo; he snarled, &ldquo;you go kick to the
+newspapers about it!&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+Peter was the bulldog again, and had got his teeth in the other bulldog&rsquo;s
+nose, and he hung right there. He had seen the rat-faced man pull money
+out of his clothes before this, and he knew that this time, above all
+other times, McGivney would come prepared. So he insisted&mdash;a thousand
+or nothing; and as before, his heart went down into his boots when
+McGivney produced his wad, and revealed that there was more in the wad
+than Peter had demanded!
+</p>
+<p>
+However, Peter consoled himself with the reflection that a thousand
+dollars was a tidy sum of money, and he set out for the home of Nelse
+Ackerman in a jovial frame of mind. Incidentally he decided that it might
+be the part of wisdom not to say anything to Nell about this extra
+thousand. When women found out that you had money, they&rsquo;d never rest till
+they had got every cent of it, or at least had made you spend it on them!
+</p>
+<p>
+<br /><br />
+</p>
+<hr />
+<p>
+<a name="link2H_4_0051" id="link2H_4_0051"> </a>
+</p>
+<div style="height: 4em;">
+<br /><br /><br /><br />
+</div>
+<h2>
+Section 51
+</h2>
+<p>
+Nelse Ackerman&rsquo;s home was far out in the suburbs of the city, upon a knoll
+surrounded by forest. It was a couple of miles from the nearest trolley
+line, which forced Peter to take a hot walk in the sun. Apparently the
+great banker, in selecting the site of his residence, had never once
+thought that anybody might want to get to it without an automobile. Peter
+reflected as he walked that if he continued to move in these higher
+circles, he too would have to join the motor-driving class.
+</p>
+<p>
+About the estate there ran a great bronze fence, ten feet high, with
+sharp, inhospitable spikes pointing outwards. Peter had read about this
+fence a long time ago in the American City &ldquo;Times&rdquo;; it was so and so many
+thousand yards long, and had so and so many spikes, and had cost so and so
+many tens of thousands of dollars. There were big bronze gates locked
+tight, and a sign that said: &ldquo;Beware the dogs!&rdquo; Inside the gates were
+three guards carrying rifles and walking up and down; they were a
+consequence of the recent dynamite conspiracy, but Peter did not realize
+this, he took them for a regular institution, and a symbol of the
+importance of the man he was to visit.
+</p>
+<p>
+He pressed a button by the side of the gate, and a lodgekeeper came out,
+and Peter, according to orders, gave the name &ldquo;Arthur G. McGillicuddy.&rdquo;
+ The lodge-keeper went inside and telephoned, and then came back and opened
+the gate, just enough to admit Peter. &ldquo;You&rsquo;re to be searched,&rdquo; said the
+lodge-keeper; and Peter, who had been arrested many times, took no offense
+at this procedure, but found it one more evidence of the importance of
+Nelse Ackerman. The guards went thru his pockets, and felt him all over,
+and then one of them marched him up the long gravel avenue thru the
+forest, climbed a flight of marble steps to the palace on the knoll, and
+turned him over to a Chinese butler who walked on padded slippers.
+</p>
+<p>
+If Peter had not known that this was a private home he would have thought
+it was an art gallery. There were great marble columns, and paintings
+bigger than Peter, and tapestries with life-size horses; there were men in
+armor, and battle axes and Japanese dancing devils, and many other strange
+sights. Ordinarily Peter would have been interested in learning how a
+great millionaire decorated his house, and would have drunk deep of the
+joy of being amid such luxury. But now all his thoughts were taken up with
+his dangerous business. Nell had told him what to look for, and he looked.
+Mounting the velvet-carpeted staircase, he noted a curtain behind which a
+man might hide, and a painting of a Spanish cavalier on the wall just
+opposite. He would make use of these two sights.
+</p>
+<p>
+They went down a hall, like a corridor in the Hotel de Soto, and at the
+end of it the butler tapped softly upon a door, and Peter was ushered into
+a big apartment in semi-darkness. The butler retired without a sound,
+closing the door behind him and Peter stood hesitating, looking about to
+get his bearings. From the other side of the room he heard three faint
+coughs, suggesting a sick man. There was a four-poster bed of some dark
+wood, with a canopy over it and draperies at the side, and a man in the
+bed, sitting propped up with pillows. There were more coughs, and then a
+faint whisper, &ldquo;This way.&rdquo; So Peter crossed over and stood about ten feet
+from the bed, holding his hat in his hands; he was not able to see very
+much of the occupant of the bed, nor was he sure it would be respectful
+for him to try to see.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;So you&rsquo;re&mdash;(cough) what&rsquo;s your name?&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Gudge,&rdquo; said Peter.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;You are the man&mdash;(cough) that knows about the Reds?&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Yes, sir.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+The occupant of the bed coughed every two or three minutes thru the
+conversation that followed, and each time Peter noticed that he put his
+hand up to his mouth as if he were ashamed of the noise. Gradually Peter
+got used to the twilight, and could see that Nelse Ackerman was an old man
+with puffy, droopy cheeks and chin, and dark puffy crescents under his
+eyes. He was quite bald, and had on his head a skull cap of embroidered
+black silk, and a short, embroidered jacket over his night shirt. Beside
+the bed stood a table covered with glasses and bottles and pill-boxes, and
+also a telephone. Every few minutes this telephone would ring, and Peter
+would wait patiently while Mr. Ackerman settled some complex problem of
+business. &ldquo;I&rsquo;ve told them my terms,&rdquo; he would say with irritation, and
+then he would cough; and Peter, who was sharply watching every detail of
+the conduct of the rich, noted that he was too polite even to cough into
+the telephone. &ldquo;If they will pay a hundred and twenty-five thousand
+dollars on account, I will wait, but not a cent less,&rdquo; Nelse Ackerman
+would say. And Peter, awe-stricken, realized that he had now reached the
+very top of Mount Olympus, he was at the highest point he could hope to
+reach until he went to heaven.
+</p>
+<p>
+The old man fixed his dark eyes on his visitor. &ldquo;Who wrote me that
+letter?&rdquo; whispered the husky voice.
+</p>
+<p>
+Peter had been expecting this. &ldquo;What letter, sir?&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;A letter telling me to see you.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;I don&rsquo;t know anything about it, sir.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;You mean&mdash;(cough) you didn&rsquo;t write me an anonynious letter?&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;No, sir, I didn&rsquo;t.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Then some friend of yours must have written it.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;I dunno that. It might have been some enemy of the police.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Well, now, what&rsquo;s this about the Reds having an agent in my home?&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Did the letter say that?&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;It did.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Well, sir, that&rsquo;s putting it too strong. I ain&rsquo;t sure, it&rsquo;s just an idea
+I&rsquo;ve had. It&rsquo;ll need a lot of explaining.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;You&rsquo;re the man who discovered this plot, I understand?&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Yes, sir.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Well, take a chair, there,&rdquo; said the banker. There was a chair near the
+bedside, but it seemed to Peter too close to be respectful, so he pulled
+it a little farther away, and sat down on the front six inches of it,
+still holding his hat in his hands and twisting it nervously. &ldquo;Put down
+that hat,&rdquo; said the old man, irritably. So Peter stuck the hat under his
+chair, and said: &ldquo;I beg pardon, sir.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+<br /><br />
+</p>
+<hr />
+<p>
+<a name="link2H_4_0052" id="link2H_4_0052"> </a>
+</p>
+<div style="height: 4em;">
+<br /><br /><br /><br />
+</div>
+<h2>
+Section 52
+</h2>
+<p>
+The old plutocrat was feeble and sick, but his mind was all there, and his
+eyes seemed to be boring Peter through. Peter realized that he would have
+to be very careful&mdash;the least little slip would be fatal here.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Now, Gudge,&rdquo; the old man began, &ldquo;I want you to tell me all about it. To
+begin with, how did you come to be among these Reds? Begin at the
+beginning.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+So Peter told how he had happened to get interested in the radical
+movement, laying particular stress upon the dangerousness of these Reds,
+and his own loyalty to the class which stood for order and progress and
+culture in the country. &ldquo;It ought to be stopped, Mr. Ackerman!&rdquo; he
+exclaimed, with a fine show of feeling; and the old banker nodded. Yes,
+yes, it ought to be stopped!
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Well,&rdquo; said Peter, &ldquo;I said to myself, &lsquo;I&rsquo;m going to find out about them
+fellows.&rsquo; I went to their meetings, and little by little I pretended to
+get converted, and I tell you, Mr. Ackerman, our police are asleep; they
+don&rsquo;t know what these agitators are doing, what they&rsquo;re preaching. They
+don&rsquo;t know what a hold they&rsquo;ve got on the mobs of the discontented!&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+Peter went on to tell in detail about the propaganda of social revolution,
+and about conspiracies against law and order, and the property and even
+the lives of the rich. Peter noticed that when the old man took a sip of
+water his hand trembled so that he could hardly keep the water from
+spilling; and presently, when the phone rang again, his voice became
+shrill and imperious. &ldquo;I understand they&rsquo;re applying for bail for those
+men. Now Angus, that&rsquo;s an outrage! We&rsquo;ll not hear to anything like that! I
+want you to see the judge at once, and make absolutely certain that those
+men are held in jail.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+Then again the old banker had a coughing fit. &ldquo;Now, Gudge,&rdquo; he said, &ldquo;I
+know more or less about all that. What I want to know is about this
+conspiracy against me. Tell me how you came to find out about it.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+And Peter told; but of course he embellished it, in so far as it related
+to Mr. Ackerman&mdash;these fellows were talking about Mr. Ackerman all
+the time, they had a special grudge against him.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;But why?&rdquo; cried the old man. &ldquo;Why?&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;They think you&rsquo;re fighting them, Mr. Ackerman.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;But I&rsquo;m not! That&rsquo;s not true!&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Well, they say you put up money to hang Goober. They call you&mdash;you&rsquo;ll
+excuse me?&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Yes, yes, of course.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;They call you the &lsquo;head money devil.&rsquo; They call you the financial king of
+American City.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;King!&rdquo; cried the banker. &ldquo;What rubbish! Why, Gudge, that&rsquo;s fool newspaper
+talk! I&rsquo;m a poor man today. There are two dozen men in this city richer
+than I am, and who have more power. Why&mdash;&rdquo; But the old man fell to
+coughing and became so exhausted that he sank back into his pillows until
+he recovered his breath. Peter waited respectfully; but of course he
+wasn&rsquo;t fooled. Peter had carried on bargaining many times in his life, and
+had heard people proclaim their poverty and impotence.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Now, Gudge,&rdquo; the old man resumed. &ldquo;I don&rsquo;t want to be killed; I tell you
+I don&rsquo;t want to be killed.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;No, of course not,&rdquo; said Peter. It was perfectly comprehensible to him
+that Mr. Ackerman didn&rsquo;t want to be killed. But Mr. Ackerman seemed to
+think it necessary to impress the idea upon him; in the course of the
+conversation he came back to it a number of times, and each time he said
+it with the same solemn assurance, as if it were a brand new idea, and a
+very unusual and startling idea. &ldquo;I don&rsquo;t want to be killed, Gudge; I tell
+you I don&rsquo;t want to let those fellows get me. No, no; we&rsquo;ve got to
+circumvent them, we&rsquo;ve got to take precautions&mdash;every precaution&mdash;I
+tell you every possible precaution.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;I&rsquo;m here for that purpose, Mr. Ackerman,&rdquo; said Peter, solemnly. &ldquo;I&rsquo;ll do
+everything. We&rsquo;ll do everything, I&rsquo;m sure.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;What&rsquo;s this about the police?&rdquo; demanded the banker. &ldquo;What&rsquo;s this about
+Guffey&rsquo;s bureau? You say they&rsquo;re not competent?&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Well now, I&rsquo;ll tell you, Mr. Ackerman,&rdquo; said Peter, &ldquo;It&rsquo;s a little
+embarrassing. You see, they employ me&mdash;&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Nonsense!&rdquo; exclaimed the other. &ldquo;<i>I</i> employ you! I&rsquo;m putting up the
+money for this work, and I want the facts!&mdash;I want them all.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Well,&rdquo; said Peter, &ldquo;they&rsquo;ve been very decent to me&mdash;&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;I say tell me everything!&rdquo; exclaimed the old man. He was a most irritable
+old man, and couldn&rsquo;t stand for a minute not having what he asked for.
+&ldquo;What&rsquo;s the matter with them?&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+Peter answered, as humbly as he could: &ldquo;I could tell you a great deal
+that&rsquo;d be of use to you, Mr. Ackerman, but you got to keep it between you
+and me.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;All right!&rdquo; said the other, quickly. &ldquo;What is it?&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;If you give a hint of it to anybody else,&rdquo; persisted Peter, &ldquo;then I&rsquo;ll
+get fired.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;You&rsquo;ll not get fired, I&rsquo;ll see to that. If necessary I&rsquo;ll hire you
+direct.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Ah, but you don&rsquo;t understand, Mr. Ackerman. It&rsquo;s a machine, and you can&rsquo;t
+run against it; you gotta understand it, you gotta handle it right. I&rsquo;d
+like to help you, and I know I can help you, but you gotta let me explain
+it, and you gotta understand some things.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;All right,&rdquo; said the old man. &ldquo;Go ahead, what is it?&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Now,&rdquo; said Peter, &ldquo;it&rsquo;s like this. These police and all these fellows
+mean well, but they don&rsquo;t understand; it&rsquo;s too complicated, they ain&rsquo;t
+been in this movement long enough. They&rsquo;re used to dealing with criminals;
+but these Reds, you see, are cranks. Criminals ain&rsquo;t organized, at least
+they don&rsquo;t stand together; but these Reds do, and if you fight &lsquo;em, they
+fight back, and they make what they call &lsquo;propaganda.&rsquo; And that propaganda
+is dangerous&mdash;if you make a wrong move, you may find you&rsquo;ve made &lsquo;em
+stronger than they were before.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Yes, I see that,&rdquo; said the old man. &ldquo;Well?&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Then again, the police dunno how dangerous they are. You try to tell them
+things, they won&rsquo;t really believe you. I&rsquo;ve known for a long time there
+was a group of these people getting together to kill off all the rich men,
+the big men all over the country. They&rsquo;ve been spying on these rich men,
+getting ready to kill them. They know a lot about them that you can&rsquo;t
+explain their knowing. That&rsquo;s how I got the idea they had somebody in your
+house, Mr. Ackerman.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Tell me what you mean. Tell me at once.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Well, sir, every once in a while I pick up scraps of conversation. One
+day I heard Mac&mdash;&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Mac?&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;That&rsquo;s McCormick, the one who&rsquo;s in jail. He&rsquo;s an I. W. W. leader, and I
+think the most dangerous of all. I heard him whispering to another fellow,
+and it scared me, because it had to do with killing a rich man. He&rsquo;d been
+watching this rich man, and said he was going to shoot him down right in
+his own house! I didn&rsquo;t hear the name of the man&mdash;I walked away,
+because I didn&rsquo;t want him to think I was trying to listen in. They&rsquo;re
+awful suspicious, these fellows; if you watch Mac you see him looking
+around over his shoulder every minute or two. So I strolled off, and then
+I strolled back again, and he was laughing about something, and I heard
+him say these words; I heard him say, &lsquo;I was hiding behind the curtain,
+and there was a Spanish fellow painted on the wall, and every time I
+peeked out that bugger was looking at me, and I wondered if he wasn&rsquo;t
+going to give me away.&rsquo;&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+And Peter stopped. His eyes had got used to the twilight now, and he could
+see the old banker&rsquo;s eyes starting out from the crescents of dark, puffy
+flesh underneath. &ldquo;My God!&rdquo; whispered Nelse Ackerman.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Now, that was all I heard,&rdquo; said Peter. &ldquo;And I didn&rsquo;t know what it meant.
+But when I learned about that drawing that Mac had made of your house, I
+thought to myself, Jesus, I bet that was Mr. Ackerman he was waiting to
+shoot!&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Good God! Good God!&rdquo; whispered the old man; and his trembling fingers
+pulled at the embroidery on the coverlet. The telephone rang, and he took
+up the receiver, and told somebody he was too busy now to talk; they would
+have to call him later. He had another coughing spell, so that Peter
+thought he was going to choke, and had to help him get some medicine down
+his throat. Peter was a little bit shocked to see such obvious and abject
+fear in one of the gods. After all, they were just men, these Olympians,
+as much subject to pain and death as Peter Gudge himself!
+</p>
+<p>
+Also Peter was surprised to find how &ldquo;easy&rdquo; Mr. Ackerman was. He made no
+lofty pretence of being indifferent to the Reds. He put himself at Peter&rsquo;s
+mercy, to be milked at Peter&rsquo;s convenience. And Peter would make the most
+of this opportunity.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Now, Mr. Ackerman,&rdquo; he began, &ldquo;You can see it wouldn&rsquo;t be any use to tell
+things like that to the police. They dunno how to handle such a situation;
+the honest truth is, they don&rsquo;t take these Reds serious. They&rsquo;ll spend ten
+times as much money to catch a plain burglar as they will to watch a whole
+gang like this.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;How can they have got into my home?&rdquo; cried the old man.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;They get in by ways you&rsquo;d never dream of, Mr. Ackerman. They have people
+who agree with them. Why, you got no idea, there&rsquo;s some preachers that are
+Reds, and some college teachers, and some rich men like yourself.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;I know, I know,&rdquo; said Ackerman. &ldquo;But surely&mdash;&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;How can you tell? You may have a traitor right in your own family.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+So Peter went on, spreading the Red Terror in the soul of this old
+millionaire who did not want to be killed. He said again that he did not
+want to be killed, and explained his reluctance in some detail. So many
+people were dependent upon him for their livings, Peter could have no
+conception of it! There were probably a hundred thousand men with their
+families right here in American City, whose jobs depended upon plans which
+Ackerman was carrying, and which nobody but Ackerman could possibly carry.
+Widows and orphans looked to him for protection of their funds; a vast
+net-work of responsibilities required his daily, even his hourly
+decisions. And sure enough, the telephone rang, and Peter heard Nelse
+Ackerman declare that the Amalgamated Securities Company would have to put
+off a decision about its dividends until tomorrow, because he was too busy
+to sign certain papers just then. He hung up the receiver and said: &ldquo;You
+see, you see! I tell you, Gudge, we must not let them get me!&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+<br /><br />
+</p>
+<hr />
+<p>
+<a name="link2H_4_0053" id="link2H_4_0053"> </a>
+</p>
+<div style="height: 4em;">
+<br /><br /><br /><br />
+</div>
+<h2>
+Section 53
+</h2>
+<p>
+They came down to the question of practical plans, and Peter was ready
+with suggestions. In the first place, Mr. Ackerman must give no hint
+either to the police authorities or to Guffey that he was dissatisfied
+with their efforts. He must simply provide for an interview with Peter now
+and then, and he and Peter, quite privately, must take certain steps to
+get Mr. Ackerman that protection which his importance to the community
+made necessary. The first thing was to find out whether or not there was a
+traitor in Mr. Ackerman&rsquo;s home, and for that purpose there must be a spy,
+a first-class detective working in some capacity or other. The only
+trouble was, there were so few detectives you could trust; they were
+nearly all scoundrels, and if they weren&rsquo;t scoundrels, it was because they
+didn&rsquo;t have sense enough to be&mdash;they were boobs, and any Red could
+see thru them in five minutes.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;But I tell you,&rdquo; said Peter, &ldquo;what I&rsquo;ve thought. I&rsquo;ve got a wife that&rsquo;s a
+wonder, and just now while we were talking about it, I thought, if I could
+only get Edythe in here for a few days, I&rsquo;d find out everything about all
+the people in your home, your relatives as well as your servants.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Is she a professional detective?&rdquo; asked the banker.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Why no, sir,&rdquo; said Peter. &ldquo;She was an actress, her name was Edythe
+Eustace; perhaps you might have heard of her on the stage.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;No, I&rsquo;m too busy for the theatre,&rdquo; said Mr. Ackerman.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Of course,&rdquo; said Peter. &ldquo;Well, I dunno whether she&rsquo;d be willing to do it;
+she don&rsquo;t like having me mix up with these Reds, and she&rsquo;s been begging me
+to quit for a long time, and I&rsquo;d just about promised her I would. But if I
+tell her about your trouble maybe she might, just as a favor.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+But how could Peter&rsquo;s wife be introduced into the Ackerman household
+without attracting suspicion? Peter raised this question, pointing out
+that his wife was a person of too high a social class to come as a
+servant. Mr. Ackerman added that he had nothing to do with engaging his
+servants, any more than with engaging the bookkeepers in his bank. It
+would look suspicious for him to make a suggestion to his housekeeper. But
+finally he remarked that he had a niece who sometimes came to visit him,
+and would come at once if requested, and would bring Edythe Eustace as her
+maid. Peter was sure that Edythe would be able to learn this part quickly,
+she had acted it many times on the stage, in fact, it had been her
+favorite role. Mr. Ackerman promised to get word to his niece, and have
+her meet Edythe at the Hotel de Soto that same afternoon.
+</p>
+<p>
+Then the old banker pledged his word most solemnly that he would not
+whisper a hint about this matter except to his niece. Peter was most
+urgent and emphatic; he specified that the police were not to be told,
+that no member of the household was to be told, not even Mr. Ackerman&rsquo;s
+private secretary. After Mr. Ackerman had had this duly impressed upon
+him, he proceeded in turn to impress upon Peter the idea which he
+considered of most importance in the world: &ldquo;I don&rsquo;t want to be killed,
+Gudge, I tell you I don&rsquo;t want to be killed!&rdquo; And Peter solemnly promised
+to make it his business to listen to all conversations of the Reds in so
+far as they might bear upon Mr. Ackerman.
+</p>
+<p>
+When he rose to take his departure, Mr. Ackerman slipped his trembling
+fingers into the pocket of his jacket, and pulled out a crisp and shiny
+note. He unfolded it, and Peter saw that it was a five hundred dollar
+bill, fresh from the First National Bank of American City, of which Mr.
+Ackerman was chairman of the board of directors. &ldquo;Here&rsquo;s a little present
+for you, Gudge,&rdquo; he said. &ldquo;I want you to understand that if you protect me
+from these villains, I&rsquo;ll see that you are well taken care of. From now on
+I want you to be my man.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Yes, sir,&rdquo; said Peter, &ldquo;I&rsquo;ll be it, sir. I thank you very much, sir.&rdquo; And
+he thrust the bill into his pocket, and bowed himself step by step
+backwards toward the door. &ldquo;You&rsquo;re forgetting your hat,&rdquo; said the banker.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Why, yes,&rdquo; said the trembling Peter, and he came forward again, and got
+his hat from under the chair, and bowed himself backward again.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;And remember, Gudge,&rdquo; said the old man, &ldquo;I don&rsquo;t want to be killed! I
+don&rsquo;t want them to get me!&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+<br /><br />
+</p>
+<hr />
+<p>
+<a name="link2H_4_0054" id="link2H_4_0054"> </a>
+</p>
+<div style="height: 4em;">
+<br /><br /><br /><br />
+</div>
+<h2>
+Section 54
+</h2>
+<p>
+Peter&rsquo;s first care when he got back into the city was to go to Mr.
+Ackerman&rsquo;s bank and change that five hundred dollar bill. The cashier
+gazed at him sternly, and scrutinized the bill carefully, but he gave
+Peter five one hundred dollar bills without comment. Peter tucked three of
+them away in a safe hiding-place, and put the other two in his pocketbook,
+and went to keep his appointment with Nell.
+</p>
+<p>
+He told her all that had happened, and where she was to meet Mr.
+Ackerman&rsquo;s niece. &ldquo;What did he give you?&rdquo; Nell demanded, at once, and when
+Peter produced the two bills, she exclaimed, &ldquo;My God! the old
+skint-flint!&rdquo; &ldquo;He said there&rsquo;d be more,&rdquo; remarked Peter.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;It didn&rsquo;t cost him anything to say that,&rdquo; was Nell&rsquo;s answer. &ldquo;We&rsquo;ll have
+to put the screws on him.&rdquo; Then she added, &ldquo;You&rsquo;d better let me take care
+of this money for you, Peter.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Well,&rdquo; said Peter, &ldquo;I have to have some for my own expenses, you know.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;You&rsquo;ve got your salary, haven&rsquo;t you?&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Yes, that&rsquo;s true, but&mdash;&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;I can keep it safe for you,&rdquo; said Nell, &ldquo;and some day when you need it
+you&rsquo;ll be glad to have it. You&rsquo;ve never saved anything yourself; that&rsquo;s a
+woman&rsquo;s job.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+Peter tried to haggle with her, but it wasn&rsquo;t the same as haggling with
+McGivney; she looked at him with her melting glances, and it made Peter&rsquo;s
+head swim, and automatically he put out his hand and let her take the two
+bills. Then she smiled, so tenderly that he made bold to remind her, &ldquo;You
+know, Nell, you&rsquo;re my wife now!&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Yes, yes,&rdquo; she answered, &ldquo;of course. But we&rsquo;ve got to get rid of Ted
+Crothers somehow. He watches me all the time, and I have no end of trouble
+making excuses and getting away.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;How&rsquo;re you&rsquo;re going to get rid of him?&rdquo; asked Peter, hungrily.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;We&rsquo;ll have to skip,&rdquo; she answered; &ldquo;just as soon as we have pulled off
+our new frame-up&mdash;&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Another one?&rdquo; gasped Peter, in dismay.
+</p>
+<p>
+And the girl laughed. &ldquo;You wait!&rdquo; she said. &ldquo;I&rsquo;m going to pull some real
+money out of Nelse Ackerman this time! Then when we&rsquo;ve made our killing,
+we&rsquo;ll skip, and be fixed for life. You wait&mdash;and don&rsquo;t talk love to
+me now, because my mind is all taken up with my plans, and I can&rsquo;t think
+about anything else.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+So they parted, and Peter went to see McGivney in the American House.
+&ldquo;Stand up to him!&rdquo; Nell had said. But it was not easy to do, for McGivney
+pulled and hauled him and turned him about, upside down and inside
+outwards, to know every single thing that had happened between him and
+Nelse Ackerman. Lord, how these fellows did hang on to their sources of
+graft! Peter repeated and insisted that he really had played entirely fair&mdash;he
+hadn&rsquo;t told Nelse Ackerman a thing except just the truth as he had told it
+to Guffey and McGivney. He had said that the police were all right, and
+that Guffey&rsquo;s bureau was stepping right on the tail of the Reds all the
+time.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;And what does he want you to do?&rdquo; demanded the rat-faced man.
+</p>
+<p>
+Peter answered, &ldquo;He just wanted to make sure that he was learning
+everything of importance, and he wanted me to promise him that he would
+get every scrap of information that I collected about the plot against
+him; and of course I promised him that we&rsquo;d bring it all to him.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;You going to see him any more?&rdquo; demanded McGivney.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;He didn&rsquo;t say anything about that.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Did he get your address?&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;No, I suppose if he wants me he&rsquo;ll let you know, the same as before.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;All right,&rdquo; said McGivney. &ldquo;Did he give you any money?&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Yes,&rdquo; said Peter, &ldquo;he gave me two hundred dollars, and he said there was
+plenty more where that came from, so that we&rsquo;d work hard to help him. He
+said he didn&rsquo;t want to get killed; he said that a couple of dozen times, I
+guess. He spent more time saying that than anything else. He&rsquo;s sick, and
+he&rsquo;s scared out of his wits.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+So at last McGivney condescended to thank Peter for his faithfulness, and
+went on to give him further orders.
+</p>
+<p>
+The Reds were raising an awful howl. Andrews, the lawyer, had succeeded in
+getting a court order to see the arrested men, and of course the prisoners
+had all declared that the case was a put-up job. Now the Reds were
+preparing to send out a circular to their fellow Reds all over the
+country, appealing for publicity, and for funds to fight the &ldquo;frame-up.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+They were very secret about it, and McGivney wanted to know where they
+were getting their money. He wanted a copy of the circular they were
+printing, and to know where and when the circulars were to be mailed.
+Guffey had been to see the post office authorities, and they were going to
+confiscate the circulars and destroy them all without letting the Reds
+know it.
+</p>
+<p>
+Peter rubbed his hands with glee. That was the real business! That was
+going after these criminals in the way Peter had been urging! The
+rat-faced man answered that it was nothing to what they were going to do
+in a few days. Let Peter keep on his job, and he would see! Now, when the
+public was wrought up over this dynamite conspiracy, was the time to get
+things done.
+</p>
+<p>
+<br /><br />
+</p>
+<hr />
+<p>
+<a name="link2H_4_0055" id="link2H_4_0055"> </a>
+</p>
+<div style="height: 4em;">
+<br /><br /><br /><br />
+</div>
+<h2>
+Section 55
+</h2>
+<p>
+Peter took a street car to the home of Miriam Yankovitch, and on the way
+he read the afternoon edition of the American City &ldquo;Times.&rdquo; The editors of
+this paper were certainly after the Reds, and no mistake! They had taken
+McCormick&rsquo;s book on Sabotage, just as Nell had predicted, and printed
+whole chapters from it, with the most menacing sentences in big type, and
+some boxed up in little frames and scattered here and there over the page
+so that no one could possibly miss them. They had a picture of McCormick
+taken in the jail; he hadn&rsquo;t had a chance to shave for several days, and
+probably hadn&rsquo;t felt pleasant about having his picture taken&mdash;anyhow,
+he looked ferocious enough to frighten the most skeptical, and Peter was
+confirmed in his opinion that Mac was the most dangerous Red of them all.
+</p>
+<p>
+Columns and columns of material this paper published about the case,
+subtly linking it up with all the other dynamitings and assassinations in
+American history, and with German spy plots and bomb plots. There was a
+nation-wide organization of these assassins, so the paper said; they
+published hundreds of papers, with millions of readers, all financed by
+German gold. Also, there was a double-leaded editorial calling on the
+citizens to arise and save the republic, and put an end to the Red menace
+once for all. Peter read this, and like every other good American, he
+believed every word that he read in his newspaper, and boiled with hatred
+of the Reds.
+</p>
+<p>
+He found Miriam Yankovitch away from home. Her mother was in a state of
+excitement, because Miriam had got word that the police were giving the
+prisoners the &ldquo;third degree,&rdquo; and she had gone to the offices of the
+Peoples&rsquo; Council to get the radicals together and try to take some
+immediate action. So Peter hurried over to these offices, where he found
+some twenty-five Reds and Pacifists assembled, all in the same state of
+excitement. Miriam was walking up and down the room, clasping and
+unclasping her hands, and her eyes looked as if she had been crying all
+day. Peter remembered his suspicion that Miriam and Mac were lovers. He
+questioned her. They had put Mac in the &ldquo;hole,&rdquo; and Henderson, the
+lumber-jack, was laid up in the hospital as a result of the ordeal he had
+undergone.
+</p>
+<p>
+The Jewish girl went into details, and Peter found himself shuddering&mdash;he
+had such a vivid memory of the third degree himself! He did not try to
+stop his shuddering, but took to pacing up and down the room like Miriam,
+and told them how it felt to have your wrists twisted and your fingers
+bent backward, and how damp and horrible it was in the &ldquo;hole.&rdquo; So he
+helped to work them into a state of hysteria, hoping that they would
+commit some overt action, as McGivney wanted. Why not storm the jail and
+set free the prisoners?
+</p>
+<p>
+Little Ada Ruth said that was nonsense; but might they not get banners,
+and parade up and down in front of the jail, protesting against this
+torturing of men who had not been convicted of any crime? The police would
+fall on them, of course, the crowds would mob them and probably tear them
+to pieces, but they must do something. Donald Gordon answered that this
+would only make them impotent to keep up the agitation. What they must try
+to get was a strike of labor. They must send telegrams to the radical
+press, and go out and raise money, and call a mass-meeting three days from
+date. Also, they must appeal to all the labor unions, and see if it was
+possible to work up sentiment for a general strike.
+</p>
+<p>
+Peter, somewhat disappointed, went back and reported to McGivney this
+rather tame outcome. But McGivney said that was all right, he had
+something that would fix them; and he revealed to Peter a startling bit of
+news. Peter had been reading in the papers about German spies, but he had
+only half taken it seriously; the war was a long way off, and Peter had
+never seen any of that German gold that they talked so much about&mdash;in
+fact, the Reds were in a state of perpetual poverty, one and all of them
+stinting himself eternally to put up some portion of his scant earnings to
+pay for pamphlets and circulars and postage and defence funds, and all the
+expenses of an active propaganda organization. But now, McGivney declared,
+there was a real, sure-enough agent of the Kaiser in American City! The
+government had pretty nearly got him in his nets, and one of the things
+McGivney wanted to do before the fellow was arrested was to get him to
+contribute some money to the radical cause.
+</p>
+<p>
+It wasn&rsquo;t necessary to point out to Peter the importance of this. If the
+authorities could show that the agitation on behalf of McCormick and the
+rest had been financed by German money, the public would justify any
+measures taken to bring it to an end. Could Peter suggest to McGivney the
+name of a German Socialist who might be persuaded to approach this agent
+of the Kaiser, and get him to contribute money for the purpose of having a
+general strike called in American City? Several of the city&rsquo;s big
+manufacturing plants were being made over for war purposes, and obviously
+the enemy had much to gain by strikes and labor discontent. Guffey&rsquo;s men
+had been trying for a long time to get Germans to contribute to the Goober
+Defense fund, but here was an even better opportunity.
+</p>
+<p>
+Peter thought of Comrade Apfel, who was one of the extreme Socialists, and
+a temporary Pacifist like most Germans. Apfel worked in a bakery, and his
+face was as pasty as the dough he kneaded, but it would show a tinge of
+color when he rose in the local to denounce the &ldquo;social patriots,&rdquo; those
+party members who were lending their aid to British plans for world
+domination. McGivney said he would send somebody to Apfel at once, and
+give him the name of the Kaiser&rsquo;s agent as one who might be induced to
+contribute to the radical defense fund. Apfel would, of course, have no
+idea that the man was a German agent; he would go to see him, and ask him
+for money, and McGivney and his fellow-sleuths would do the rest. Peter
+said that was fine, and offered to go to Apfel himself; but the rat-faced
+man answered no, Peter was too precious, and no chance must be taken of
+directing Apfel&rsquo;s suspicions against him.
+</p>
+<p>
+<br /><br />
+</p>
+<hr />
+<p>
+<a name="link2H_4_0056" id="link2H_4_0056"> </a>
+</p>
+<div style="height: 4em;">
+<br /><br /><br /><br />
+</div>
+<h2>
+Section 56
+</h2>
+<p>
+Peter had received a brief scrawl from Nell, telling him that it was all
+right, she had gone to her new job, and would soon have results. So Peter
+went cheerfully about his own duties of trying to hold down the protest
+campaign of the radicals. It was really quite terrifying, the success they
+were having, in spite of all the best efforts of the authorities. Bundles
+of circulars appeared at their gatherings as if by magic, and were carried
+away and distributed before the authorities could make any move. Every
+night at the Labor Temple, where the workers gathered, there were
+agitators howling their heads off about the McCormick case. To make
+matters worse, there was an obscure one cent evening paper in American
+City which catered to working-class readers, and persisted in publishing
+evidence tending to prove that the case was a &ldquo;frame-up.&rdquo; The Reds had
+found out that their mail was being interfered with, and were raising a
+terrific howl about that&mdash;pretending, of course, that it was &ldquo;free
+speech&rdquo; they cared about!
+</p>
+<p>
+The mass meeting was due for that evening, and Peter read an indignant
+editorial in the American City &ldquo;Times,&rdquo; calling upon the authorities to
+suppress it. &ldquo;Down with the Red Flag!&rdquo; the editorial was headed; and Peter
+couldn&rsquo;t see how any red-blooded, 100% American could read it, and not be
+moved to do something.
+</p>
+<p>
+Peter said that to McGivney, who answered: &ldquo;We&rsquo;re going to do something;
+you wait!&rdquo; And sure enough, that afternoon the papers carried the news
+that the mayor of American City had notified the owners of the Auditorium
+that they would be held strictly responsible under the law for all
+incendiary and seditious utterances at this meeting; thereupon, the owners
+of the Auditorium had cancelled the contract. Furthermore, the mayor
+declared that no crowds should be gathered on the street, and that the
+police would be there to see to it, and to protect law and order. Peter
+hurried to the rooms of the Peoples&rsquo; Council, and found the radicals
+scurrying about, trying to find some other hall; every now and then Peter
+would go to the telephone, and let McGivney know what hall they were
+trying to get, and McGivney would communicate with Guffey, and Guffey
+would communicate with the secretary of the Chamber of Commerce, and the
+owner of this hall would be called up and warned by the president of the
+bank which held a mortgage on the hall, or by the chairman of the board of
+directors of the Philharmonic Orchestra which gave concerts there.
+</p>
+<p>
+So there was no Red mass meeting that night&mdash;and none for many a
+night thereafter in American City! Guffey&rsquo;s office had got its German spy
+story ready, and next morning, here was the entire front page of the
+American City &ldquo;Times&rdquo; given up to the amazing revelation that Karl von
+Stroeme, agent of the German government, and reputed to be a nephew of the
+German Vice-chancellor, had been arrested in American City, posing as a
+Swedish sewing-machine agent, but in reality having been occupied in
+financing the planting of dynamite bombs in the buildings of the Pioneer
+Foundry Company, now being equipped for the manufacture of machine-guns.
+Three of von Stroeme&rsquo;s confederates had been nabbed at the same time, and
+a mass of papers full of important revelations&mdash;not the least
+important among them being the fact that only yesterday von Stroeme had
+been caught dealing with a German Socialist of the ultra-Red variety, an
+official of the Bread and Cake-Makers&rsquo; Union Number 479, by the name of
+Ernst Apfel. The government had a dictagraph record of conversations in
+which von Stroeme had contributed one hundred dollars to the Liberty
+Defense League, an organization which the Reds had got up for the purpose
+of carrying on agitation for the release of the I. W. W.s arrested in the
+dynamite plot against the life of Nelse Ackerman. Moreover it was proven
+that Apfel had taken this money and distributed it among several German
+Reds, who had turned it in to the defense fund, or used it in paying for
+circulars calling for a general strike.
+</p>
+<p>
+Peter&rsquo;s heart was leaping with excitement; and it leaped even faster when
+he had got his breakfast and was walking down Main Street. He saw crowds
+gathered, and American flags flying from all the buildings, just as on the
+day of the Preparedness parade. It caused Peter to feet queer spasms of
+fright; he imagined another bomb, but he couldn&rsquo;t resist the crowds with
+their eager faces and contagious enthusiasm. Presently here came a band,
+with magnificent martial music, and here came soldiers marching&mdash;tramp,
+tramp, tramp&mdash;line after line of khaki-clad boys with heavy packs
+upon their backs and shiny new rifles. Our boys! Our boys! God bless them!
+</p>
+<p>
+It was three regiments of the 223rd Division, coming from Camp Lincoln to
+be entrained for the war. They might better have been entrained at the
+camp, of course, but everyone had been clamoring for some glimpse of the
+soldiers, and here they were with their music and their flags, and their
+crowds of flushed, excited admirers&mdash;two endless lines of people,
+wild with patriotic fervor, shouting, singing, waving hats and
+handkerchiefs, until the whole street became a blur, a mad delirium. Peter
+saw these closely pressed lines, straight and true, and the legs that
+moved like clock-work, and the feet that shook the ground like thunder. He
+saw the fresh, boyish faces, grimly set and proud, with eyes fixed ahead,
+never turning, even tho they realized that this might be their last
+glimpse of their home city, that they might never come back from this
+journey. Our boys! Our boys! God bless them! Peter felt a choking in his
+throat, and a thrill of gratitude to the boys who were protecting him and
+his country; he clenched his hands and set his teeth, with fresh
+determination to punish the evil men and women&mdash;draft-dodgers,
+slackers, pacifists and seditionists&mdash;who were failing to take their
+part in this glorious emprise.
+</p>
+<p>
+<br /><br />
+</p>
+<hr />
+<p>
+<a name="link2H_4_0057" id="link2H_4_0057"> </a>
+</p>
+<div style="height: 4em;">
+<br /><br /><br /><br />
+</div>
+<h2>
+Section 57
+</h2>
+<p>
+Peter went to the American House and met McGivney, and was put to work on
+a job that precisely suited his mood. The time had come for action, said
+the rat-faced man. The executive committee of the I. W. W. local had been
+drafting an appeal to the main organization for help, and the executive
+committee was to meet that evening; Peter was to get in touch with the
+secretary, Grady, and find out where this meeting was to be, and make the
+suggestion that all the membership be gathered, and other Reds also. The
+business men of the city were going to pull off their big stroke that
+night, said McGivney; the younger members of the Chamber of Commerce and
+the Merchants&rsquo; and Manufacturers&rsquo; Association had got together and worked
+out a secret plan, and all they wanted was to have the Reds collected in
+one place.
+</p>
+<p>
+So Peter set out and found Shawn Grady, the young Irish boy who kept the
+membership lists and other papers of the organization, in a place so
+secret that not even Peter had been able to find them. Peter brought the
+latest news about the sufferings of Mac in the &ldquo;hole,&rdquo; and how Gus, the
+sailor, had joined Henderson in the hospital. He was so eloquent in his
+indignation that presently Grady told him about the meeting for that
+evening, and about the place, and Peter said they really ought to get some
+of their friends together, and work out some way to get their protest
+literature distributed quickly, because it was evident they could no
+longer use the mails. What was the use of resolutions of executive
+committees, when what was wanted was action by the entire membership?
+Grady said all right, they would notify the active members and
+sympathizers, and he gave Peter the job of telephoning and travelling
+about town getting word to a dozen people.
+</p>
+<p>
+At six o&rsquo;clock that evening Peter reported the results to McGivney, and
+then he got a shock. &ldquo;You must go to that meeting yourself,&rdquo; said the
+rat-faced man. &ldquo;You mustn&rsquo;t take any chance of their suspecting you.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;But, my God!&rdquo; cried Peter. &ldquo;What&rsquo;s going to happen there?&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;You don&rsquo;t need to worry about that,&rdquo; answered the other. &ldquo;I&rsquo;ll see that
+you&rsquo;re protected.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+The gathering was to take place at the home of Ada Ruth, the poetess, and
+McGivney had Peter describe this home to him. Beyond the living-room was a
+hallway, and in this hallway was a big clothes closet. At the first alarm
+Peter must make for this place. He must get into the closet, and McGivney
+would be on hand, and they would pen Peter up and pretend to club him, but
+in reality would protect him from whatever happened to the rest. Peter&rsquo;s
+knees began to tremble, and he denounced the idea indignantly; what would
+happen to him if anything were to happen to McGivney, or to his
+automobile, and were to fail to get there in time? McGivney declared that
+Peter need not worry&mdash;he was too valuable a man for them to take any
+chances with. McGivney would be there, and all Peter would have to do was
+to scream and raise a rumpus, and finally fall unconscious, and McGivney
+and Hammett and Cummings would carry him out to their automobile and take
+him away!
+</p>
+<p>
+Peter was so frightened that he couldn&rsquo;t eat any dinner, but wandered
+about the street talking to himself and screwing up his courage. He had to
+stop and look at the American flags, still waving from the buildings, and
+read the evening edition of the American City &ldquo;Times,&rdquo; in order to work up
+his patriotic fervor again. As he set out for the home of the little
+cripple who wrote pacifist poetry, he really felt like the soldier boys
+marching away to war.
+</p>
+<p>
+Ada Ruth was there, and her mother, a dried-up old lady who knew nothing
+about all these dreadful world movements, but whose pleadings had no
+effect upon her inspired daughter; also Ada&rsquo;s cousin, a lean old-maid
+school teacher, secretary of the Peoples&rsquo; Council; also Miriam Yankovitch,
+and Sadie Todd, and Donald Gordon. On the way Peter had met Tom Duggan,
+and the mournful poet revealed that he had composed a new poem about Mac
+in the &ldquo;hole.&rdquo; Immediately afterwards came Grady, the secretary, his
+pockets stuffed with his papers. Grady, a tall, dark-eyed,
+impulsive-tempered Irish boy, was what the Socialists called a &ldquo;Jimmie
+Higgins,&rdquo; that is, one of the fellows who did the hard and dreary work of
+the movement, who were always on hand no matter what happened, always
+ready to have some new responsibility put upon their shoulders. Grady had
+no use for the Socialists, being only interested in &ldquo;industrial action,&rdquo;
+ but he was willing to be called a &ldquo;Jimmie Higgins&rdquo;; he had said that Peter
+was one too, and Peter had smiled to himself, thinking that a &ldquo;Jimmie
+Higgins&rdquo; was about the last thing in the world he ever would be. Peter was
+on the way to independence and prosperity, and it did not occur to him to
+reflect that he might be a &ldquo;Jimmie Higgins&rdquo; to the &ldquo;Whites&rdquo; instead of to
+the Reds!
+</p>
+<p>
+Grady now pulled out his papers, and began to talk over with Donald Gordon
+the proceedings of the evening. He had had a telegram from the national
+headquarters of the I. W. W., promising support, and his thin, hungry face
+lighted up with pride as he showed this. Then he announced that &ldquo;Bud&rdquo;
+ Connor was to be present&mdash;a well-known organizer, who had been up in
+the oil country with McCormick, and brought news that the workers there
+were on the verge of a big strike. Then came Mrs. Jennings, a poor,
+tormented little woman who was slowly dying of a cancer, and whose husband
+was suing her for divorce because she had given money to the I. W. W. With
+her, and helping her along, came &ldquo;Andy&rdquo; Adams, a big machinist, who had
+been kicked out of his lodge for talking too much &ldquo;direct action.&rdquo; He
+pulled from his pocket a copy of the &ldquo;Evening Telegraph,&rdquo; and read a few
+lines from an editorial, denouncing &ldquo;direct action&rdquo; as meaning dynamiting,
+which it didn&rsquo;t, of course, and asking how long it would be before the
+friends of law and order in American City would use a little &ldquo;direct
+action&rdquo; of their own.
+</p>
+<p>
+<br /><br />
+</p>
+<hr />
+<p>
+<a name="link2H_4_0058" id="link2H_4_0058"> </a>
+</p>
+<div style="height: 4em;">
+<br /><br /><br /><br />
+</div>
+<h2>
+Section 58
+</h2>
+<p>
+So they gathered, until about thirty were present, and then the meeting
+speedily got down to business. It was evident, said Grady, that the
+authorities had deliberately framed-up the dynamite conspiracy, in order
+to have an excuse for wiping out the I. W. W. organization; they had
+closed the hall, and confiscated everything, typewriters and office
+furniture and books&mdash;including a book on Sabotage which they had
+turned over to the editor of the &ldquo;Evening Times&rdquo;! There was a hiss of
+anger at this. Also, they had taken to interfering with the mail of the
+organization; the I. W. W. were having to get out their literature by
+express. They were fighting for their existence, and they must find some
+way of getting the truth to people. If anybody had any suggestions to
+make, now was the time.
+</p>
+<p>
+There came one suggestion after another; and meantime Peter sat as if his
+chair were full of pins. Why didn&rsquo;t they come&mdash;the younger members of
+the Chamber of Commerce and the Merchants&rsquo; and Manufacturers&rsquo; Association&mdash;and
+do what they were going to do without any further delay? Did they expect
+Peter to sit there all night, trembling with alarm&mdash;and he not having
+any dinner besides?
+</p>
+<p>
+Suddenly Peter gave a jump. Outside came a yell, and Donald Gordon, who
+was making a speech, stopped suddenly, and the members of the company
+stared at one another, and some sprang to their feet. There were more
+yells, rising to screams, and some of the company made for the front
+doors, and some for the back doors, and yet others for the windows and the
+staircase. Peter wasted no time, but dived into the clothes closet in the
+hallway back of the living-room, and got into the farthest corner of this
+closet, and pulled some of the clothes on top of him; and then, to make
+him safer yet, came several other people piling on top of him.
+</p>
+<p>
+From his place of refuge he listened to the confusion that reigned. The
+place was a bedlam of women&rsquo;s shrieks, and the curses of fighting men, and
+the crash of overturning furniture, and of clubs and monkey-wrenches on
+human heads. The younger members of the Chamber of Commerce and the
+Merchants&rsquo; and Manufacturers&rsquo; Association had come in sufficient force to
+make sure of their purpose. There were enough to crowd the room full, and
+to pack all the doorways, and two or three to guard each window, and a
+flying squadron to keep watch for anybody who jumped from the roof or
+tried to hide in the trees of the garden.
+</p>
+<p>
+Peter cowered, and listened to the furious uproar, and presently he heard
+the cries of those on top of him, and realized that they were being pulled
+off and clubbed; he felt hands reach down and grab him, and he cringed and
+cried in terror; but nothing happened to him, and presently he glanced up
+and he saw a man wearing a black mask, but easily to be recognized as
+McGivney. Never in all his life had Peter been gladder to see a human face
+than he was to see that masked face of a rat! McGivney had a club in his
+hand, and was dealing ferocious blows to the clothes heaped around Peter.
+Behind McGivney were Hammett and Cummings, covering the proceedings, and
+now and then carefully putting in a blow of their own.
+</p>
+<p>
+Most of the fighting inside the house and outside came quickly to an end,
+because everybody who fought was laid out or overpowered. Then several of
+the agents of Guffey, who had been studying these Reds for a year or two
+and knew them all, went about picking out the ones who were especially
+wanted, and searching them for arms, and then handcuffing them. One of
+these men approached Peter, who instantly fell unconscious, and closed his
+eyes; then Hammett caught him under the armpits and Cummings by the feet,
+and McGivney walked alongside as a bodyguard, remarking now and then, &ldquo;We
+want this fellow, we&rsquo;ll take care of him.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+They carried Peter outside, and in the darkness he opened his eyes just
+enough to see that the street was lined with automobiles, and that the
+Reds were being loaded aboard. Peter&rsquo;s friends carried him to one car and
+drove him away, and then Peter returned to consciousness, and the four of
+them sat up and laughed to split their sides, and slapped one another on
+the back, and mentioned the satisfactory things they had seen. Had Hammett
+noticed that slice Grady had got over the eyes, and the way the blood had
+run all over him? Well, he wanted to be a Red&mdash;they had helped him be
+one&mdash;inside and out! Had McGivney noticed how &ldquo;Buck&rdquo; Ellis, one of
+their men, had put the nose of the hobo poet out of joint? And young
+Ogden, son of the president of the Chamber of Commerce, had certainly
+managed to show how he felt about these cattle, the female ones as well as
+the males; when that Yankovich slut had slapped his face, he had caught
+her by the breasts and nearly twisted them off, and she had screamed and
+fainted!
+</p>
+<p>
+Yes, they had cleaned them out. But that wasn&rsquo;t all of it, they were going
+to finish the job tonight, by God! They were going to give these pacifists
+a taste of the war, they were going to put an end to the Red Terror in
+American City! Peter might go along if he liked and see the good work;
+they were going into the country, and it would be dark, and if he kept a
+mask on he would be quite safe. And Peter said yes; his blood was up, he
+was full of the spirit of the hunt, he wanted to be in at the death,
+regardless of everything.
+</p>
+<p>
+<br /><br />
+</p>
+<hr />
+<p>
+<a name="link2H_4_0059" id="link2H_4_0059"> </a>
+</p>
+<div style="height: 4em;">
+<br /><br /><br /><br />
+</div>
+<h2>
+Section 59
+</h2>
+<p>
+The motor purred softly, and the car sped as if upon wings thru the
+suburbs of American City, and to the country beyond. There were cars in
+front, and other cars behind, a long stream of white lights flying out
+into the country. They came to a grove of big pine trees, which rose two
+or three feet thick, like church arches, and covered the ground beneath
+them with a soft, brown carpet. It was a well-known picnic place, and here
+all the cars were gathering by appointment. Evidently it had all been
+pre-arranged, with that efficiency which is the pride of 100% Americans. A
+man with a black mask over his face stood in the center of the grove, and
+shouted his directions thru a megaphone, and each car as it swept in
+ranged itself alongside the next car in a broad circle, more than a
+hundred feet across. These cars of the younger members of the Chamber of
+Commerce and the Merchants&rsquo; and Manufacturers&rsquo; Association were well
+behaved&mdash;they were accustomed to sliding precisely into place
+according to orders of a megaphone man, when receptions were being given,
+or when the younger members and their wives and fiancees, clad in soft
+silks and satins, came rolling up to their dinner-parties and dances.
+</p>
+<p>
+The cars came and came, until there was just room enough for the last one
+to slide in. Then at a shouted command, &ldquo;Number one!&rdquo; a group of men
+stepped out of one of the cars, dragging a handcuffed prisoner. It was
+Michael Dubin, the young Jewish tailor who had spent fifteen days in jail
+with Peter. Michael was a student and dreamer, and not used to scenes of
+violence; also, he belonged to a race which expresses its emotions, and
+consequently is offensive to 100% Americans. He screamed and moaned while
+the masked men un-handcuffed him, and took off his coat and tore his shirt
+in the back. They dragged him to a tree in the center of the ring, a
+somewhat smaller tree, just right for his wrists to meet around and be
+handcuffed again. There he stood in the blinding glare of thirty or forty
+cars, writhing and moaning, while one of the black-masked men stripped off
+his coat and got ready for action. He produced a long black-snake whip,
+and stood poised for a moment; then in a booming voice the man with the
+megaphone shouted, &ldquo;Go!&rdquo; and the whip whistled thru the air and was laid
+across the back of Michael, and tore into the flesh so that the blood
+leaped into sight. There was a scream of anguish, and the victim began to
+twist and turn and kick about as if in his death-throes. Again the whip
+whistled, and again you heard the thud as it tore into the flesh, and
+another red stripe leaped to view.
+</p>
+<p>
+Now the younger members of the Chamber of Commerce and the Merchants&rsquo; and
+Manufacturers&rsquo; Association were in excellent condition for this evening&rsquo;s
+labor. They were not pale and thin, underfed and overworked, as were their
+prisoners; they were sleek and rosy, and ashine with health. It was as if
+long years ago their fathers had foreseen the Red menace, and the steps
+that would have to be taken to preserve 100% Americanism; the fathers had
+imported a game which consisted of knocking little white balls around a
+field with various styles and sizes of clubs. They had built magnificent
+club-houses out here in the suburbs, and had many hundreds of acres of
+ground laid out for this game, and would leave their occupations of
+merchanting and manufacturing early in the afternoon, in order to repair
+to these fields and keep their muscles in condition. They would hold
+tournaments, and vie with one another, and tell over the stories of the
+mighty strokes which they had made with their clubs, and of the hundreds
+of strokes they had made in a single afternoon. So the man with the
+black-snake whip was &ldquo;fit,&rdquo; and didn&rsquo;t need to stop for breath. Stroke
+after stroke he laid on, with a splendid rhythmic motion; he kept it up
+easily, on and on. Had he forgotten?
+</p>
+<p>
+Did he think this was a little white ball he was swinging down upon? He
+kept on and on, until you could no longer count the welts, until the whole
+back of Michael Dubin was a mass of raw and bleeding flesh. The screams of
+Michael Dubin died away, and his convulsive struggling ceased, and his
+head hung limp, and he sunk lower and lower upon the tree.
+</p>
+<p>
+At last the master of ceremonies stepped forward and ordered a halt, and
+the man with the whip wiped the sweat from his forehead with his
+shirt-sleeve, and the other men unchained the body of Michael Dubin, and
+dragged it a few feet to one side and dumped it face downward in the
+pine-leaves.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Number two!&rdquo; called the master of ceremonies, in a clear, compelling
+voice, as if he were calling the figures of a quadrille; and from another
+car another set of men emerged, dragging another prisoner. It was Bert
+Glikas, a &ldquo;blanket-stiff&rdquo; who was a member of the I. W. W.&lsquo;s executive
+committee, and had had two teeth knocked out in a harvest-strike only a
+couple of weeks previously. While they were getting off his coat, he
+managed to get one hand free, and he shook it at the spectators behind the
+white lights of the automobiles. &ldquo;God damn you!&rdquo; he yelled; and so they
+tied him up, and a fresh man stepped forward and picked up the whip, and
+spit on his hands for good luck, and laid on with a double will; and at
+every stroke Glikas yelled a fresh curse; first in English, and then, as
+if he were delirious, in some foreign language. But at last his curses
+died away, and he too sank insensible, and was unhitched and dragged away
+and dumped down beside the first man. &ldquo;Number three!&rdquo; called the master of
+ceremonies.
+</p>
+<p>
+<br /><br />
+</p>
+<hr />
+<p>
+<a name="link2H_4_0060" id="link2H_4_0060"> </a>
+</p>
+<div style="height: 4em;">
+<br /><br /><br /><br />
+</div>
+<h2>
+Section 60
+</h2>
+<p>
+Now Peter was sitting in the back seat of his car, wearing the mask which
+McGivney had given him, a piece of cloth with two holes for his eyes and
+another hole for him to breathe thru. Peter hated these Reds, and wanted
+them punished, but he was not used to bloody sights, and was finding this
+endless thud, thud of the whip on human flesh rather more than he could
+stand. Why had he come? This wasn&rsquo;t his part of the job of saving his
+country from the Red menace. He had done his share in pointing out the
+dangerous ones; he was a man of brains, not a man of violence. Peter saw
+that the next victim was Tom Duggan with his broken and bloody nose, and
+in spite of himself, Peter started with dismay. He realized that without
+intending it he had become a little fond of Tom Duggan. For all his
+queerness, Duggan was loyal, he was a good fellow when you had got
+underneath his surly manners. He had never done anything except just to
+grumble, and to put his grumbles into verses; they were making a mistake
+in whipping him, and for a moment Peter had a crazy impulse to interfere
+and tell them so.
+</p>
+<p>
+The poet never made a sound. Peter got one glimpse of his face in the
+blazing white light, and in spite of the fact that it was smashed and
+bloody, Peter read Tom Duggan&rsquo;s resolve&mdash;he would die before they
+would get a moan out of him. Each time the lash fell you could see a
+quiver all over his form; but there was never a sound, and he stood,
+hugging the tree in a convulsive grip. They lashed him until the whip was
+spattering blood all over them, until blood was running to the ground.
+They had taken the precaution to bring along a doctor with a little black
+case, and he now stepped up and whispered to the master of ceremonies.
+They unfastened Duggan, and broke the grip of his arms about the tree, and
+dumped him down beside Glikas.
+</p>
+<p>
+Next came the turn of Donald Gordon, the Socialist Quaker, which brought a
+bit of cheap drama. Donald took his religion seriously; he was always
+shouting his anti-war sentiments in the name of Jesus, which made him
+especially obnoxious. Now he saw a chance to get off one of his theatrical
+stunts; he raised his two manacled hands into the air as if he were
+praying, and shouted in piercing tones: &ldquo;Father, forgive them, for they
+know not what they do!&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+A murmur started in the crowd; you could hear it mounting to a roar.
+&ldquo;Blasphemy!&rdquo; they cried. &ldquo;Stop his dirty mouth!&rdquo; It was the same mouth
+that had been heard on a hundred platforms, denouncing the war and those
+who made money out of the war. They were here now, the men who had been
+denounced, the younger members of the Chamber of Commerce and the
+Merchants&rsquo; and Manufacturers&rsquo; Association, the best people of the city,
+those who were saving the country, and charging no more than the service
+was worth. So they roared with fury at this sacreligious upstart. A man
+whose mask was a joke, because he was so burly and hearty that everybody
+in the crowd knew him, took up the bloody whip. It was Billy Nash,
+secretary of the &ldquo;Improve America League,&rdquo; and the crowd shouted, &ldquo;Go to
+it, Billy! Good eye, old boy!&rdquo; Donald Gordon might tell God that Billy
+Nash didn&rsquo;t know what he was doing, but Billy thought that he knew, and he
+meant before he got thru to convince Donald that he knew. It didn&rsquo;t take
+very long, because there was nothing much to the young Quaker but voice,
+and he fainted at the fourth or fifth stroke, and after the twentieth
+stroke the doctor interfered.
+</p>
+<p>
+Then came the turn of Grady, secretary of the I. W. W., and here a
+terrible thing happened. Grady, watching this scene from one of the cars,
+had grown desperate, and when they loosed the handcuffs to get off his
+coat, he gave a sudden wrench and broke free, striking down one man after
+another. He had been brought up in the lumber country, and his strength
+was amazing, and before the crowd quite realized it, he was leaping
+between two of the cars. A dozen men sprang upon him from a dozen
+directions, and he went down in the midst of a wild melee. They pinned him
+with his face mashed into the dirt, and from the crowd there rose a roar
+as from wild beasts in the night-time,
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;String him up! String him up!&rdquo; One man came running with a rope,
+shouting, &ldquo;Hang him!&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+The master of ceremonies tried to protest thru his megaphone, but the
+instrument was knocked out of his hands, and he was hauled to one side,
+and presently there was a man climbing up the pine tree and hanging the
+rope over a limb. You could not see Grady for the jostling throng about
+him, but suddenly there was a yell from the crowd, and you saw him quite
+plainly&mdash;he shot high up into the air, with the rope about his neck
+and his feet kicking wildly. Underneath, men danced about and yelled and
+waved their hats in the air, and one man leaped up and caught one of the
+kicking feet and hung onto it.
+</p>
+<p>
+Then, above all the din, a voice was heard thru the megaphone, &ldquo;Let him
+down a bit! Let me get at him!&rdquo; And those who held the rope gave way, and
+the body came down toward the ground, still kicking, and a man took out a
+clasp-knife, and cut the clothing away from the body, and cut off
+something from the body; there was another yell from the crowd, and the
+men in the automobiles slapped their knees and shrieked with satisfaction.
+Those in the car with Peter whispered that it was Ogden, son of the
+president of the Chamber of Commerce; and all over town next day and for
+weeks thereafter men would nudge one another, and whisper about what Bob
+Ogden had done to the body of Shawn Grady, secretary of the &ldquo;damned
+wobblies.&rdquo; And every one who nudged and whispered about it felt certain
+that by this means the Red Terror had been forever suppressed, and 100%
+Americanism vindicated, and a peaceful solution of the problem of capital
+and labor made certain.
+</p>
+<p>
+Strange as it might seem, there was one member of the I. W. W. who agreed
+with them. One of the victims of that night had learned his lesson! When
+Tom Duggan was able to sit up again, which was six weeks later, he wrote
+an article about his experience, which was published in an I. W. W. paper,
+and afterwards in pamphlet form was read by many hundreds of thousands of
+workingmen. In it the poet said:
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;The preamble of the I. W. W. opens with the statement that the employing
+class and the working class have nothing in common; but on this occasion I
+learned that the preamble is mistaken. On this occasion I saw one thing in
+common between the employing class and the working class, and that thing
+was a black-snake whip. The butt end of the whip was in the hands of the
+employing class, and the lash of the whip was on the backs of the working
+class, and thus to all eternity was symbolized the truth about the
+relationship of the classes!&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+<br /><br />
+</p>
+<hr />
+<p>
+<a name="link2H_4_0061" id="link2H_4_0061"> </a>
+</p>
+<div style="height: 4em;">
+<br /><br /><br /><br />
+</div>
+<h2>
+Section 61
+</h2>
+<p>
+Peter awoke next morning with a vivid sense of the pain and terror of
+life. He had been clamoring to have those Reds punished; but somehow or
+other he had thought of this punishment in an abstract way, a thing you
+could attend to by a wave of the hand. He hadn&rsquo;t quite realized the
+physical side of it, what a messy and bloody job it would prove. Two hours
+and more he had listened to the thud of a whip on human flesh, and each
+separate stroke had been a blow upon his own nerves. Peter had an overdose
+of vengeance; and now, the morning after, his conscience was gnawing at
+him. He had known every one of those boys, and their faces rose up to
+haunt him. What had any of them done to deserve such treatment? Could he
+say that he had ever known a single one of them to do anything as violent
+as the thing they had all suffered?
+</p>
+<p>
+But more than anything else Peter was troubled by fear. Peter, the ant,
+perceived the conflict of the giants becoming more ferocious, and realized
+the precariousness of his position under the giants&rsquo; feet. The passions of
+both sides were mounting, and the fiercer their hate became, the greater
+the chance of Peter&rsquo;s being discovered, the more dreadful his fate if he
+were discovered. It was all very well for McGivney to assure him that only
+four of Guffey&rsquo;s men knew the truth, and that all these might be trusted
+to the death. Peter remembered a remark he had heard Shawn Grady make, and
+which had caused him to lose his appetite for more than one meal. &ldquo;They&rsquo;ve
+got spies among us,&rdquo; the young Irishman had said. &ldquo;Well, sooner or later
+we&rsquo;ll do a bit of spying of our own!&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+And now these words came back to Peter like a voice from the grave.
+Suppose one of the Reds who had money were to hire somebody to get a job
+in Guffey&rsquo;s office! Suppose some Red girl were to try Peter&rsquo;s device, and
+seduce one of Guffey&rsquo;s men&mdash;by no means a difficult task! The man
+mightn&rsquo;t even mean to reveal that Peter Gudge was a secret agent; he might
+just let it slip, as little Jennie had let slip the truth about Jack
+Ibbetts! Thus Mac would know who had framed him up; and what would Mac do
+to Peter when he got out on bail? When Peter thought of things like that
+he realized what it meant to go to war; he saw that he had gained nothing
+by staying at home, he might as well have been in the front-line trenches!
+After all, this was war, class-war; and in all war the penalty for spying
+is death.
+</p>
+<p>
+Also Peter was worried about Nell. She had been in her new position for
+nearly a week, and he hadn&rsquo;t heard a word from her. She had forbidden him
+to write, for fear he might write something injudicious. Let him just
+wait, Edythe Eustace would know how to take care of herself. And that was
+all right, Peter had no doubt about the ability of Edythe Eustace to take
+care of herself. What troubled him was the knowledge that she was working
+on another &ldquo;frame-up,&rdquo; and he stood in fear of the exuberance of her
+imagination. The last time that imagination had been pregnant, it had
+presented him with a suit-case full of dynamite. What it might bring forth
+next time he did not know, and was afraid to think. Nell might cause him
+to be found out by Guffey; and that would be nearly as horrible as to be
+found out by Mac!
+</p>
+<p>
+Peter got his morning &ldquo;Times,&rdquo; and found a whole page about the whipping
+of the Reds, portraying the job as a patriotic duty heroically performed;
+and that naturally cheered Peter up considerably. He turned to the
+editorial page, and read a two column &ldquo;leader&rdquo; that was one whoop of
+exultation. It served still more to cure Peter&rsquo;s ache of conscience; and
+when he read on and found a series of interviews with leading citizens,
+giving cordial endorsement to the acts of the &ldquo;vigilantes,&rdquo; Peter became
+ashamed of his weakness, and glad that he had not revealed it to anyone.
+Peter was trying his best to become a real &ldquo;he-man,&rdquo; a 100% red-blooded
+American, and he had the &ldquo;Times&rdquo; twice each day, morning and evening, to
+guide, sustain and inspire him.
+</p>
+<p>
+Peter had been told by McGivney to fix himself up and pose as one of the
+martyrs of the night&rsquo;s affair, and this appealed to his sense of humor. He
+cut off the hair from a part of his head, and stuck some raw cotton on
+top, and plastered it over with surgical tape. He stuck another big wad of
+surgical tape across his forehead, and a criss-cross of it on his cheek,
+and tied up his wrist in an excellent imitation of a sprain. Thus rigged
+out he repaired to the American House, and McGivney rewarded him with a
+hearty laugh, and then proceeded to give some instructions which, entirely
+restored Peter&rsquo;s usual freshness of soul. Peter was going up on Mount
+Olympus again!
+</p>
+<p>
+The rat-faced man explained in detail. There was a lady of great wealth&mdash;indeed,
+she was said to be several times a millionaire&mdash;who was an openly
+avowed Red, a pacifist of the most malignant variety. Since the arrest of
+young Lackman she had come forward and put up funds to finance the
+&ldquo;People&rsquo;s Council,&rdquo; and the &ldquo;Anti-Conscription League,&rdquo; and all the other
+activities which for the sake of convenience were described by the term
+&ldquo;pro-German.&rdquo; The only trouble was this lady was so extremely wealthy it
+was hard to do anything to her. Her husband was a director in a couple of
+Nelse Ackerman&rsquo;s banks, and had other powerful connections. The husband
+was a violent, anti-Socialist, and a buyer of liberty bonds; he quarrelled
+with his wife, but nevertheless he did not want to see her in jail, and
+this made an embarrassing situation for the police and the district
+attorney&rsquo;s office, and even for the Federal authorities, who naturally did
+not want to trouble one of the courtiers of the king of American City.
+&ldquo;But something&rsquo;s got to be done,&rdquo; said McGivney. &ldquo;This camouflaged German
+propaganda can&rsquo;t go on.&rdquo; So Peter was to try to draw Mrs. Godd into some
+kind of &ldquo;overt action.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Mrs. Godd?&rdquo; said Peter. It seemed to him a singular coincidence that one
+of the dwellers on Mount Olympus should bear that name. The great lady
+lived on a hilltop out in the suburbs, not so far from the hilltop of
+Nelse Ackerman. One of the adventures looked forward to by Reds and
+pacifists in distress was to make a pilgrimage to this palace and obtain
+some long, green plasters to put over their wounds. Now was the time at
+all times for Peter to go, said McGivney. Peter had many wounds to be
+plastered, and Mrs. Godd would be indignant at the proceedings of last
+night, and would no doubt express herself without restraint.
+</p>
+<p>
+<br /><br />
+</p>
+<hr />
+<p>
+<a name="link2H_4_0062" id="link2H_4_0062"> </a>
+</p>
+<div style="height: 4em;">
+<br /><br /><br /><br />
+</div>
+<h2>
+Section 62
+</h2>
+<p>
+Peter hadn&rsquo;t been so excited since the time when he had waited to meet
+young Lackman. He had never quite forgiven himself for this costly
+failure, and now he was to have another chance. He took a trolley ride out
+into the country, and walked a couple of miles to the palace on the
+hilltop, and mounted thru a grove of trees and magnificent Italian
+gardens. According to McGivney&rsquo;s injunctions, he summoned his courage, and
+went to the front door of the stately mansion and rang the bell.
+</p>
+<p>
+Peter was hot and dusty from his long walk, the sweat had made streaks
+down his face and marred the pristine whiteness of his plasters. He was
+never a distinguished-looking person at best, and now, holding his damaged
+straw hat in his hands, he looked not so far from a hobo. However, the
+French maid who came to the door was evidently accustomed to
+strange-looking visitors. She didn&rsquo;t order Peter to the servant&rsquo;s
+entrance, nor threaten him with the dogs; she merely said, &ldquo;Be seated,
+please. I will tell madame&rdquo;&mdash;putting the accent on the second
+syllable, where Peter had never heard it before.
+</p>
+<p>
+And presently here came Mrs. Godd in her cloud of Olympian beneficence; a
+large and ample lady, especially built for the role of divinity. Peter
+felt suddenly awe-stricken. How had he dared come here? Neither in the
+Hotel de Soto, with its many divinities, nor in the palace of Nelse
+Ackerman, the king, had he felt such a sense of his own lowliness as the
+sight of this calm, slow-moving great lady inspired. She was the
+embodiment of opulence, she was &ldquo;the real thing.&rdquo; Despite the look of
+kindliness in her wide-open blue eyes, she impressed him with a feeling of
+her overwhelming superiority. He did not know it was his duty as a
+gentleman to rise from his chair when a lady entered, but some instinct
+brought him to his feet and caused him to stand blinking as she crossed to
+him from the opposite end of the big room.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;How do you do?&rdquo; she said in a low, full voice, gazing at him steadily out
+of the kind, wide-open blue eyes. Peter stammered, &ldquo;How d-dy do, M&mdash;Mrs.
+Godd.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+In truth, Peter was almost dumb with bewilderment. Could it really,
+possibly be that this grand personage was a Red? One of the things that
+had most offended him about all radicals was their noisiness, their
+aggressiveness; but here was a grand serenity of looks and manner, a soft,
+slow voice&mdash;here was beauty, too, a skin unlined, despite middle
+years, and glowing with health and a fine cleanness. Nell Doolin had had a
+glowing complexion, but there was always a lot of powder stuck on, and
+when you investigated closely, as Peter had done, you discovered muddy
+spots in the edges of her hair and on her throat. But Mrs. Godd&rsquo;s skin
+shone just as the skin of a goddess would be expected to shine, and
+everything about her was of a divine and compelling opulence. Peter could
+not have explained just what it was that gave this last impression so
+overwhelmingly. It was not that she wore many jewels, or large ones, for
+Mrs. James had beaten her at that; it was not her delicate perfume, for
+Nell Doolin scattered more sweetness on the air; yet somehow even poor,
+ignorant Peter felt the difference&mdash;it seemed to him that none of
+Mrs. Godd&rsquo;s costly garments had ever been worn before, that the costly
+rugs on the floor had never been stepped on before, the very chair on
+which he sat had never been sat on before!
+</p>
+<p>
+Little Ada Ruth had called Mrs. Godd &ldquo;the mother of all the world;&rdquo; and
+now suddenly she became the mother of Peter Gudge. She had read the papers
+that morning, she had received a half dozen telephone calls from horrified
+and indignant Reds, and so a few words sufficed to explain to her the
+meaning of Peter&rsquo;s bandages and plasters. She held out to him a beautiful
+cool hand, and quite without warning, tears sprang into the great blue
+eyes.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Oh, you are one of those poor boys! Thank God they did not kill you!&rdquo; And
+she led him to a soft couch and made him lie down amid silken pillows.
+Peter&rsquo;s dream of Mount Olympus had come literally true! It occurred to him
+that if Mrs. Godd were willing to play permanently the role of mother to
+Peter Gudge, he would be willing to give up his role of anti-Red agent
+with its perils and its nervous strains; he would forget duty, forget the
+world&rsquo;s strife and care; he would join the lotus-eaters, the sippers of
+nectar on Mount Olympus!
+</p>
+<p>
+She sat and talked to him in the soft, gentle voice, and the kind blue
+eyes watched him, and Peter thought that never in all his life had he
+encountered such heavenly emotions. To be sure, when he had gone to see
+Miriam Yankovich, old Mrs. Yankovich had been just as kind, and tears of
+sympathy had come into her eyes just the same. But then, Mrs. Yankovich
+was nothing but a fat old Jewess, who lived in a tenement and smelt of
+laundry soap and partly completed washing; her hands had been hot and
+slimy, and so Peter had not been in the least grateful for her kindness.
+But to encounter tender emotions in these celestial regions, to be talked
+to maternally and confidentially by this wonderful Mrs. Godd in soft white
+chiffons just out of a band-box <i>this </i>was quite another matter!
+</p>
+<p>
+<br /><br />
+</p>
+<hr />
+<p>
+<a name="link2H_4_0063" id="link2H_4_0063"> </a>
+</p>
+<div style="height: 4em;">
+<br /><br /><br /><br />
+</div>
+<h2>
+Section 63
+</h2>
+<p>
+Peter did not want to set traps for this mother of Mount Olympus, he
+didn&rsquo;t want to worm any secrets from her. And as it happened, he found
+that he did not have to, because she told him everything right away, and
+without the slightest hesitation. She talked just as the &ldquo;wobblies&rdquo; had
+talked in their headquarters; and Peter, when he thought it over, realized
+that there are two kinds of people who can afford to be frank in their
+utterance&mdash;those who have nothing to lose, and those who have so much
+to lose that they cannot possibly lose it.
+</p>
+<p>
+Mrs. Godd said that what had been done to those men last night was a
+crime, and it ought to be punished if ever a crime was punished, and that
+she would like to engage detectives and get evidence against the guilty
+ones. She said furthermore that she sympathized with the Reds of the very
+reddest shade, and if there were any color redder than Red she would be of
+that color. She said all this in her quiet, soft voice. Tears came into
+her eyes now and then, but they were well-behaved tears, they disappeared
+of their own accord, and without any injury to Mrs. Godd&rsquo;s complexion, or
+any apparent effect upon her self-possession.
+</p>
+<p>
+Mrs. Godd said that she didn&rsquo;t see how anybody could fail to be a Red who
+thought about the injustices of present-day society. Only a few days
+before she had been in to see the district attorney, and had tried to make
+a Red out of him! Then she told Peter how there had come to see her a man
+who had pretended to be a radical, but she had realized that he didn&rsquo;t
+know anything about radicalism, and had told him she was sure he was a
+government agent. The man had finally admitted it, and showed her his gold
+star&mdash;and then Mrs. Godd had set to work to convert him! She had
+argued with him for an hour or two, and then had invited him to go to the
+opera with her. &ldquo;And do you know,&rdquo; said Mrs. Godd, in an injured tone, &ldquo;he
+wouldn&rsquo;t go! They don&rsquo;t want to be converted, those men; they don&rsquo;t want
+to listen to reason. I believe the man was actually afraid I might
+influence him.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;I shouldn&rsquo;t wonder,&rdquo; put in Peter, sympathetically; for he was a tiny bit
+afraid himself.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;I said to him, &lsquo;Here I live in this palace, and back in the industrial
+quarter of the city are several thousand men and women who slave at
+machines for me all day, and now, since the war, all night too. I get the
+profits of these peoples&rsquo; toil&mdash;and what have I done to earn it?
+Absolutely nothing! I never did a stroke of useful work in my life.&rsquo; And
+he said to me, &lsquo;Suppose the dividends were to stop, what would you do?&rsquo; &lsquo;I
+don&rsquo;t know what I&rsquo;d do,&rsquo; I answered, &lsquo;I&rsquo;d be miserable, of course, because
+I hate poverty, I couldn&rsquo;t stand it, it&rsquo;s terrible to think of&mdash;not
+to have comfort and cleanliness and security. I don&rsquo;t see how the
+working-class stand it&mdash;that&rsquo;s exactly why I&rsquo;m a Red, I know it&rsquo;s
+wrong for anyone to be poor, and there&rsquo;s no excuse for it. So I shall help
+to overthrow the capitalist system, even if it means I have to take in
+washing for my living!&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+Peter sat watching her in the crisp freshness of her snowy chiffons. The
+words brought a horrible image to his mind; he suddenly found himself back
+in the tenement kitchen, where fat and steaming Mrs. Yankovich was
+laboring elbow deep in soap-suds. It was on the tip of Peter&rsquo;s tongue to
+say: &ldquo;If you really had done a day&rsquo;s washing, Mrs. Godd, you wouldn&rsquo;t talk
+like that!&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+But he remembered that he must play the game, so he said, &ldquo;They&rsquo;re
+terrible fellows, them Federal agents. It was two of them pounded me over
+the head last night.&rdquo; And then he looked faint and pitiful, and Mrs. Godd
+was sympathetic again, and moved to more recklessness of utterance.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;It&rsquo;s because of this hideous war!&rdquo; she declared. &ldquo;We&rsquo;ve gone to war to
+make the world safe for democracy, and meantime we have to sacrifice every
+bit of democracy at home. They tell you that you must hold your peace
+while they murder one another, but they may try all they please, they&rsquo;ll
+never be able to silence me! I know that the Allies are just as much to
+blame as the Germans, I know that this is a war of profiteers and bankers;
+they may take my sons and force them into the army, but they cannot take
+my convictions and force them into their army. I am a pacifist, and I am
+an internationalist; I want to see the workers arise and turn out of
+office these capitalist governments, and put an end to this hideous
+slaughter of human beings. I intend to go on saying that so long as I
+live.&rdquo; There sat Mrs. Godd, with her lovely firm white hands clasped as if
+in prayer, one large diamond ring on the left fourth finger shining
+defiance, and a look of calm, child-like conviction upon her face,
+confronting in her imagination all the federal agents and district
+attorneys and capitalist judges and statesmen and generals and drill
+sergeants in the civilized world.
+</p>
+<p>
+She went on to tell how she had attended the trial of three pacifist
+clergymen a week or two previously. How atrocious that Christians in a
+Christian country should be sent to prison for trying to repeat the words
+of Christ! &ldquo;I was so indignant,&rdquo; declared Mrs. Godd, &ldquo;that I wrote a
+letter to the judge. My husband said I would be committing contempt of
+court by writing to a judge during the trial, but I answered that my
+contempt for that court was beyond anything I could put into writing. Wait&mdash;&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+And Mrs. Godd rose gravely from her chair and went over to a desk by the
+wall, and got a copy of the letter. &ldquo;I&rsquo;ll read it to you,&rdquo; she said, and
+Peter listened to a manifesto of Olympian Bolshevism&mdash;
+</p>
+<p>
+To His Honor:
+</p>
+<p>
+As I entered the sanctuary, I gazed upward to the stained glass dome, upon
+which were inscribed four words: Peace. Justice. Truth. Law&mdash;and I
+felt hopeful. Before me were men who had violated no constitutional right,
+who had not the slightest criminal tendency, who, were opposed to violence
+of every kind.
+</p>
+<p>
+The trial proceeded. I looked again at the beautiful stained glass dome,
+and whispered to myself those majestic-sounding words: &ldquo;Peace. Justice.
+Truth. Law.&rdquo; I listened to the prosecutors; the Law in their hands was a
+hard, sharp, cruel blade, seeking insistently, relentlessly for a weak
+spot in the armor of its victims. I listened to their Truth, and it was
+Falsehood. Their Peace was a cruel and bloody War. Their justice was a net
+to catch the victims at any cost&mdash;at the cost of all things but the
+glory of the Prosecutor&rsquo;s office.
+</p>
+<p>
+I grew sick at heart. I can only ask myself the old, old question: What
+can we, the people do? How can we bring Peace, justice, Truth and Law to
+the world? Must we go on bended knees and ask our public servants to see
+that justice is done to the defenceless, rather than this eternal
+prosecuting of the world&rsquo;s noblest souls! You will find these men guilty,
+and sentence them to be shut behind iron bars&mdash;which should never be
+for human beings, no matter what their crime, unless you want to make
+beasts of them. Is that your object, sir? It would seem so; and so I say
+that we must overturn the system that is brutalizing, rather than helping
+and uplifting mankind.
+</p>
+<p>
+Yours for Peace..Justice..Truth..Law&mdash;
+</p>
+<p>
+Mary Angelica Godd.
+</p>
+<p>
+What were you going to do with such a woman? Peter could understand the
+bewilderment of His Honor, and of the district attorney&rsquo;s office, and of
+the secret service department of the Traction Trust&mdash;as well as of
+Mrs. Godd&rsquo;s husband! Peter was bewildered himself; what was the use of his
+coming out here to get more information, when Mrs. Godd had already
+committed contempt of court in writing, and had given all the information
+there was to give to a Federal agent? She had told this man that she had
+contributed several thousand dollars to the Peoples&rsquo; Council, and that she
+intended to contribute more. She had put up bail for a whole bunch of Reds
+and Pacifists, and she intended to put up bail for McCormick and his
+friends, just as soon as the corrupt capitalist courts had been forced to
+admit them to bail. &ldquo;I know McCormick well, and he&rsquo;s a lovely boy,&rdquo; she
+said. &ldquo;I don&rsquo;t believe he had anything more to do with dynamite bombs than
+I have.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+Now all this time Peter had sat there, entirely under the spell of Mrs.
+Godd&rsquo;s opulence. Peter was dwelling among the lotus-eaters, and forgetting
+the world&rsquo;s strife and care; he was reclining on a silken couch, sipping
+nectar with the shining ones of Mount Olympus. But now suddenly, Peter was
+brought back to duty, as one wakes from a dream to the sound of an
+alarm-clock. Mrs. Godd was a friend of Mac&rsquo;s, Mrs. Godd proposed to get
+Mac out on bail! Mac, the most dangerous Red of them all! Peter saw that
+he must get something on this woman at once!
+</p>
+<p>
+<br /><br />
+</p>
+<hr />
+<p>
+<a name="link2H_4_0064" id="link2H_4_0064"> </a>
+</p>
+<div style="height: 4em;">
+<br /><br /><br /><br />
+</div>
+<h2>
+Section 64
+</h2>
+<p>
+Peter sat up suddenly among his silken cushions, and began to tell Mrs.
+Godd about the new plan of the Anti-conscription League, to prepare a set
+of instructions for young conscientious objectors. Peter represented the
+purpose of these instructions to be the advising of young men as to their
+legal and constitutional rights. But it was McGivney&rsquo;s idea that Peter
+should slip into the instructions some phrase advising the young men to
+refuse military duty; if this were printed and circulated, it would render
+every member of the Anti-conscription League liable to a sentence of ten
+or twenty years in jail. McGivney had warned Peter to be very cautious
+about this, but again Peter found that there was no need of caution. Mrs.
+Godd was perfectly willing to advise young men to refuse military service.
+She had advised many such, she said, including her own sons, who
+unfortunately agreed with their father in being blood-thirsty.
+</p>
+<p>
+It came to be lunch-time, and Mrs. Godd asked if Peter could sit at table&mdash;and
+Peter&rsquo;s curiosity got the better of all caution. He wanted to see the Godd
+family sipping their nectar out of golden cups. He wondered, would the
+disapproving husband and the blood-thirsty sons be present?
+</p>
+<p>
+There was nobody present but an elderly woman companion, and Peter did not
+see any golden cups. But he saw some fine china, so fragile that he was
+afraid to touch it, and he saw a row of silver implements, so heavy that
+it gave him a surprise each time he picked one up. Also, he saw foods
+prepared in strange and complicated ways, so chopped up and covered with
+sauces that it was literally true he couldn&rsquo;t give the name of a single
+thing he had eaten, except the buttered toast.
+</p>
+<p>
+He was inwardly quaking with embarrassment during this meal, but he saved
+himself by Mrs. James&rsquo;s formula, to watch and see what the others were
+doing and then do likewise. Each time a new course was brought, Peter
+would wait, and when he saw Mrs. Godd pick up a certain fork or a certain
+spoon, he would pick up the same one, or as near to it as he could guess.
+He could put his whole mind on this, because he didn&rsquo;t have to do any
+talking; Mrs. Godd poured out a steady stream of sedition and high
+treason, and all Peter had to do was to listen and nod. Mrs. Godd would
+understand that his mouth was too full for utterance.
+</p>
+<p>
+After the luncheon they went out on the broad veranda which overlooked a
+magnificent landscape. The hostess got Peter settled in a soft porch chair
+with many cushions, and then waved her hand toward the view of the city
+with its haze of thick black smoke.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;That&rsquo;s where my wage slaves toil to earn my dividends,&rdquo; said she.
+&ldquo;They&rsquo;re supposed to stay there&mdash;in their &lsquo;place,&rsquo; as it&rsquo;s called,
+and I stay here in my place. If they want to change places, it&rsquo;s called
+‘revolution,&rsquo; and that is &lsquo;violence.&rsquo; What I marvel at is that they use so
+little violence, and feel so little. Look at those men being tortured in
+jail! Could anyone blame them if they used violence? Or if they made an
+effort to escape?&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+That suggested a swift, stabbing idea to Peter. Suppose Mrs. Godd could be
+induced to help in a jail delivery!
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;It might be possible to help them to escape,&rdquo; he suggested.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Do you think so?&rdquo; asked Mrs. Godd, showing excitement for the first time
+during that interview.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;It might be,&rdquo; said Peter. &ldquo;Those jailors are not above taking bribes, you
+know. I met nearly all of them while I was in that jail, and I think I
+might get in touch with one or two that could be paid. Would you like me
+to try it?&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Well, I don&rsquo;t know&mdash;&rdquo; began the lady, hesitatingly. &ldquo;Do you really
+think&mdash;&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;You know they never ought to have been put in at all!&rdquo; Peter interjected.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;That&rsquo;s certainly true!&rdquo; declared Mrs. Godd.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;And if they could escape without hurting anyone, if they didn&rsquo;t have to
+fight the jailors, it wouldn&rsquo;t do any real harm&mdash;&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+That was as far as Peter got with his impromptu conspiracy. Suddenly he
+heard a voice behind him: &ldquo;What does this mean?&rdquo; It was a male voice,
+fierce and trembling with anger; and Peter started from his silken
+cushions, and glanced around, thrusting up one arm with the defensive
+gesture of a person who has been beaten since earliest childhood.
+</p>
+<p>
+Bearing down on him was a man; possibly he was not an abnormally big man,
+but certainly he looked so to Peter. His smooth-shaven face was pink with
+anger, his brows gathered in a terrible frown, and his hands clenched with
+deadly significance. &ldquo;You dirty little skunk!&rdquo; he hissed. &ldquo;You infernal
+young sneak!&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;John!&rdquo; cried Mrs. Godd, imperiously; but she might as well have cried to
+an advancing thunder-storm. The man made a leap upon Peter, and Peter, who
+had dodged many hundreds of blows in his lifetime, rolled off the lounging
+chair, and leaped to his feet, and started for the stairs of the veranda.
+The man was right behind him, and as Peter reached the first stair the
+man&rsquo;s foot shot out, and caught Peter fairly in the seat of his trousers,
+and the first stair was the only one of the ten or twelve stairs of the
+veranda that Peter touched in his descent.
+</p>
+<p>
+Landing at the bottom, he did not stop even for a glance; he could hear
+the snorting of Mr. Godd, it seemed right behind his ear, and Peter ran
+down the driveway as he had seldom run in his life before. Every now and
+then Mr. Godd would shoot out another kick, but he had to stop slightly to
+do this, and Peter gained just enough to keep the kicks from reaching him.
+So at last the pursuer gave up, and Peter dashed thru the gates of the
+Godd estate and onto the main highway.
+</p>
+<p>
+Then he looked over his shoulder, and seeing that Mr. Godd was a safe
+distance away, he stopped and turned and shook his clenched fist with the
+menace of a street-rat, shrieking, &ldquo;Damn you! Damn you!&rdquo; A whirlwind of
+impotent rage laid hold upon him. He shouted more curses and menaces, and
+among them some strange, some almost incredible words. &ldquo;Yes, I&rsquo;m a Red,
+damn your soul, and I&rsquo;ll stay a Red!&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+Yes, Peter Gudge, the friend of law and order, Peter Gudge, the little
+brother to the rich, shouted, &ldquo;I&rsquo;m a Red, and what&rsquo;s more, we&rsquo;ll blow you
+up some day for this&mdash;Mac and me&rsquo;ll put a bomb under you!&rdquo; Mr. Godd
+turned and stalked with contemptuous dignity back to his own private
+domestic controversy.
+</p>
+<p>
+Peter walked off down the road, rubbing his sore trousers and sobbing to
+himself. Yes, Peter understood now exactly how the Reds felt. Here were
+these rich parasites, exploiting the labor of working men and living off
+in palaces by themselves&mdash;and what had they done to earn it? What
+would they ever do for the poor man, except to despise him, and to kick
+him in the seat of his trousers? They were a set of wilful brutes! Peter
+suddenly saw the happenings of last night from a new angle, and wished he
+had all the younger members of the Chamber of Commerce and the Merchants&rsquo; 
+and Manufacturers&rsquo; Association right there along with Mr. Godd, so that he
+could bundle them all off to the devil at once.
+</p>
+<p>
+And that was no passing mood either. The seat of Peter&rsquo;s trousers hurt so
+that he could hardly endure the trolley ride home, and all the way Peter
+was plotting how he could punish Mr. Godd. He remembered suddenly that Mr.
+Godd was an associate of Nelse Ackerman; and Peter now had a spy in Nelse
+Ackerman&rsquo;s home, and was preparing some kind of a &ldquo;frame-up!&rdquo; Peter would
+see if he couldn&rsquo;t find some way to start a dynamite conspiracy against
+Mr. Godd! He would start a campaign against Mr. Godd in the radical
+movement, and maybe he could find some way to get a bunch of the
+&ldquo;wobblies&rdquo; to carry him off and tie him up and beat him with a black-snake
+whip!
+</p>
+<p>
+<br /><br />
+</p>
+<hr />
+<p>
+<a name="link2H_4_0065" id="link2H_4_0065"> </a>
+</p>
+<div style="height: 4em;">
+<br /><br /><br /><br />
+</div>
+<h2>
+Section 65
+</h2>
+<p>
+With these reflections Peter went back to the American House, where
+McGivney had promised to meet him that evening. Peter went to Room 427,
+and being tired after the previous night&rsquo;s excitement, he lay down and
+fell fast asleep. And when again he opened his eyes, he wasn&rsquo;t sure
+whether it was a nightmare, or whether he had died in his sleep and gone
+to hell with Mr. Godd. Somebody was shaking him, and bidding him in a
+gruff voice, &ldquo;Wake up!&rdquo; Peter opened his eyes, and saw that it was
+McGivney; and that was all right, it was natural that McGivney should be
+waking him up. But what was this? McGivney&rsquo;s voice was angry, McGivney&rsquo;s
+face was dark and glowering, and&mdash;most incredible circumstance of all&mdash;McGivney
+had a revolver in his hand, and was pointing it into Peter&rsquo;s face!
+</p>
+<p>
+It really made it much harder for Peter to get awake, because he couldn&rsquo;t
+believe that he was awake; also it made it harder for McGivney to get any
+sense out of him, because his jaw hung down, and he stared with terrified
+eyes into the muzzle of the revolver.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;M-m-my God, Mr. McGivney! w-w-what&rsquo;s the matter?&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Get up here!&rdquo; hissed the rat-faced man, and he added a vile name. He
+gripped Peter by the lapel of his coat and half jerked him to his feet,
+still keeping the muzzle of the revolver in Peter&rsquo;s face. And poor Peter,
+trying desperately to get his wits together, thought of half a dozen wild
+guesses one after another. Could it be that McGivney had heard him
+denouncing Mr. Godd and proclaiming himself a Red? Could it be that some
+of the Reds had framed up something on Peter? Could it be that McGivney
+had gone just plain crazy; that Peter was in the room with a maniac armed
+with a revolver?
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Where did you put that money I gave you the other day;&rdquo; demanded
+McGivney, and added some more vile names.
+</p>
+<p>
+Instantly, of course, Peter was on the defensive. No matter how frightened
+he might be, Peter would never fail to hang on to his money.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;I-I s-s-spent it, Mr. McGivney.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;You&rsquo;re lying to me!&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;N-n-no.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Tell me where you put that money!&rdquo; insisted the man, and his face was
+ugly with anger, and the muzzle of the revolver seemed to be trembling
+with anger. Peter started to insist that he had spent every cent. &ldquo;Make
+him cough up, Hammett!&rdquo; said McGivney; and Peter for the first time
+realized that there was another man in the room. His eyes had been so
+fascinated by the muzzle of the revolver that he hadn&rsquo;t taken a glance
+about.
+</p>
+<p>
+Hammett was a big fellow, and he strode up to Peter and grabbed one of
+Peter&rsquo;s arms, and twisted it around behind Peter&rsquo;s back and up between
+Peter&rsquo;s shoulders. When Peter started to scream, Hammett clapped his other
+hand over his mouth, and so Peter knew that it was all up. He could not
+hold on to money at that cost. When McGivney asked him, &ldquo;Will you tell me
+where it is?&rdquo; Peter nodded, and tried to answer thru his nose.
+</p>
+<p>
+So Hammett took his hand from his mouth. &ldquo;Where is it?&rdquo; And Peter replied,
+&ldquo;In my right shoe.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+Hammett unlaced the shoe and took it off, and pulled out the inside sole,
+and underneath was a little flat package wrapped in tissue paper, and
+inside the tissue paper was the thousand dollars that McGivney had given
+Peter, and also the three hundred dollars which Peter had saved from Nelse
+Ackerman&rsquo;s present, and two hundred dollars which he had saved from his
+salary. Hammett counted the money, and McGivney stuck it into his pocket,
+and then he commanded Peter to put on his shoe again. Peter obeyed with
+his trembling fingers, meantime keeping his eye in part on the revolver
+and in part on the face of the rat.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;W-w-what&rsquo;s the matter, Mr. McGivney?&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;You&rsquo;ll find out in time,&rdquo; was the answer. &ldquo;Now, you march downstairs, and
+remember, I&rsquo;ve got this gun on you, and there&rsquo;s eight bullets in it, and
+if you move a finger I&rsquo;ll put them all into you.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+So Peter and McGivney and Hammett went down in the elevator of the hotel,
+and out of doors, and into an automobile. Hammett drove, and Peter sat in
+the rear seat with McGivney, who had the revolver in his coat pocket, his
+finger always on the trigger and the muzzle always pointed into Peter&rsquo;s
+middle. So Peter obeyed all orders promptly, and stopped asking questions
+because he found he could get no answers.
+</p>
+<p>
+Meantime he was using his terrified wits on the problem. The best guess he
+could make was that Guffey had decided to believe Joe Angell&rsquo;s story
+instead of Peter&rsquo;s. But then, why all this gun-play, this movie stuff?
+Peter gave up in despair; and it was just as well, for what had happened
+lay entirely beyond the guessing power of Peter&rsquo;s mind or any other mind.
+</p>
+<p>
+<br /><br />
+</p>
+<hr />
+<p>
+<a name="link2H_4_0066" id="link2H_4_0066"> </a>
+</p>
+<div style="height: 4em;">
+<br /><br /><br /><br />
+</div>
+<h2>
+Section 66
+</h2>
+<p>
+They went to the office of the secret service department of the Traction
+Trust, a place where Peter had never been allowed to come hitherto. It was
+on the fourteenth floor of the Merchant&rsquo;s Trust Building, and the sign on
+the door read: &ldquo;The American City Land &amp; Investment Company. Walk In.&rdquo;
+ When you walked in, you saw a conventional real estate office, and it was
+only when you had penetrated several doors that you came to the secret
+rooms where Guffey and his staff conducted the espionage work of the big
+business interests of the city.
+</p>
+<p>
+Peter was hustled into one of these rooms, and there stood Guffey; and the
+instant Guffey saw him, he bore down upon him, shaking his fist. &ldquo;You
+stinking puppy!&rdquo; he exclaimed. &ldquo;You miserable little whelp! You dirty,
+sneaking hound!&rdquo; He added a number of other descriptive phrases taken from
+the vocabulary of the kennel.
+</p>
+<p>
+Peter&rsquo;s knees were shaking, his teeth were chattering, and he watched
+every motion of Guffey&rsquo;s angry fingers, and every grimace of Guffey&rsquo;s
+angry features. Peter had been fully prepared for the most horrible
+torture he had experienced yet; but gradually he realized that he wasn&rsquo;t
+going to be tortured, he was only going to be scolded and raged at, and no
+words could describe the wave of relief in his soul. In the course of his
+street-rat&rsquo;s life Peter had been called more names than Guffey could think
+of if he spent the next month trying. If all Guffey was going to do was to
+pace up and down the room, and shake his fist under Peter&rsquo;s nose every
+time he passed him, and compare him with every kind of a domestic animal,
+Peter could stand it all night without a murmur.
+</p>
+<p>
+He stopped trying to find out what it was that had happened, because he
+saw that this only drove Guffey to fresh fits of exasperation. Guffey
+didn&rsquo;t want to talk to Peter, he didn&rsquo;t want to hear the sound of Peter&rsquo;s
+whining gutter-pup&rsquo;s voice. All he wanted was to pour out his rage, and
+have Peter listen in abject abasement, and this Peter did. But meantime,
+of course, Peter&rsquo;s wits were working at high speed, he was trying to pick
+up hints as to what the devil it could mean. One thing was quite clear&mdash;the
+damage, whatever it was, was done; the jig was up, it was all over but the
+funeral. They had taken Peter&rsquo;s money to pay for the funeral, and that was
+all they hoped to get out of him.
+</p>
+<p>
+Gradually came other hints. &ldquo;So you thought you were going into business
+on your own!&rdquo; snarled Guffey, and his fist, which was under Peter&rsquo;s nose,
+gave an upward poke that almost dislocated Peter&rsquo;s neck.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Aha!&rdquo; thought Peter. &ldquo;Nelse Ackerman has given me away!&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;You thought you were going to make your fortune and retire for life on
+your income!&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+Yes, that was it, surely! But what could Nelse Ackerman have told that was
+so very bad?
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;You were going to have a spy of your own, set up your own bureau, and
+kick me out, perhaps!&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;My God!&rdquo; thought Peter. &ldquo;Who told that?&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+Then suddenly Guffey stopped in front of him. &ldquo;Was that what you thought?&rdquo;
+ he demanded. He repeated the question, and it appeared that he really
+wanted an answer, and so Peter stammered, &ldquo;N-n-no, sir.&rdquo; But evidently the
+answer didn&rsquo;t suit Guffey, for he grabbed Peter&rsquo;s nose and gave it a tweak
+that brought the tears into his eyes.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;What was it then?&rdquo; A nasty sneer came on the head detective&rsquo;s face, and
+he laughed at Peter with a laugh of venomous contempt. &ldquo;I suppose you
+thought she really loved you! Was it that? You thought she really loved
+you?&rdquo; And McGivney and Hammett and Guffey ha-ha-ed together, and to Peter
+it seemed like the mockery of demons in the undermost pit of hell. Those
+words brought every pillar of Peter&rsquo;s dream castle tumbling in ruins about
+his ears. Guffey had found out about Nell!
+</p>
+<p>
+Again and again on the automobile ride to Guffey&rsquo;s office Peter had
+reminded himself of Nell&rsquo;s command, &ldquo;Stick it out, Peter! Stick it out!&rdquo;
+ He had meant to stick it out in spite of everything; but now in a flash he
+saw that all was lost. How could he stick it out when they knew about
+Nell, and when Nell, herself, was no longer sticking it out?
+</p>
+<p>
+Guffey saw these thoughts plainly written in Peter&rsquo;s face, and his sneer
+turned into a snarl. &ldquo;So you think you&rsquo;ll tell me the truth now, do you?
+Well, it happens there&rsquo;s nothing left to tell!&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+Again he turned and began pacing up and down the room. The pressure of
+rage inside him was so great that it took still more time to work it off.
+But finally the head detective sat down at his desk, and opened the drawer
+and took out a paper. &ldquo;I see you&rsquo;re sitting there, trying to think up some
+new lie to tell me,&rdquo; said he. And Peter did not try to deny it, because
+any kind of denial only caused a fresh access of rage. &ldquo;All right,&rdquo; Guffey
+said, &ldquo;I&rsquo;ll read you this, and you can see just where you stand, and just
+how many kinds of a boob you are.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+So he started to read the letter; and before Peter had heard one sentence,
+he knew this was a letter from Nell, and he knew that the castle of his
+dreams was flat in the dust forever. The ruins of Sargon and Nineveh were
+not more hopelessly flat!
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Dear Mr. Guffey,&rdquo; read the letter, &ldquo;I am sorry to throw you down, but
+fifty thousand dollars is a lot of money, and we all get tired of work and
+need a rest. This is to tell you that Ted Crothers has just broke into
+Nelse Ackerman&rsquo;s safe in his home, and we have got some liberty bonds and
+some jewels which we guess to be worth fifty thousand dollars, and you
+know Ted is a good judge of jewels.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Now of course you will find out that I was working in Mr. Ackerman&rsquo;s home
+and you will be after me hot-foot, so I might as well tell you about it,
+and tell you it won&rsquo;t do you any good to catch us, because we have got all
+the inside dope on the Goober frame-up, and everything else your bureau
+has been pulling off in American City for the last year. You can ask Peter
+Gudge and he&rsquo;ll tell you. It was Peter and me that fixed up that dynamite
+conspiracy, but you mustn&rsquo;t blame Peter, because he only did what I told
+him to do. He hasn&rsquo;t got sense enough to be really dangerous, and he will
+make you a perfectly good agent if you treat him kind and keep him away
+from the women. You can do that easy enough if you don&rsquo;t let him get any
+money, because of course he&rsquo;s nothing much on looks, and the women would
+never bother with him if you didn&rsquo;t pay him too much.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Now Peter will tell you how we framed up that dynamite job, and of course
+you wouldn&rsquo;t want that to get known to the Reds, and you may be sure that
+if Ted and me get pinched, we&rsquo;ll find some way to let the Reds know all
+about it. If you keep quiet we&rsquo;ll never say a word, and you&rsquo;ve got a
+perfectly good dynamite conspiracy, with all the evidence you need to put
+the Reds out of business, and you can just figure it cost you fifty
+thousand dollars, and it was cheap at the price, because Nelse Ackerman
+has paid a whole lot more for your work, and you never got anything half
+as big as this. I know you&rsquo;ll be mad when you read this, but think it over
+and keep your shirt on. I send it to you by messenger so you can get hold
+of Nelse Ackerman right quick, and have him not say anything to the
+police; because you know how it is&mdash;if those babies find it out, it
+will get to the Reds and the newspapers, and it&rsquo;ll be all over town and do
+a lot of harm to your frame-up. And you know after those Reds have got
+beaten up and Shawn Grady lynched, you wouldn&rsquo;t like to have any rumor get
+out that that dynamite was planted by your own people. Ted and me will
+keep out of sight, and we won&rsquo;t sell the jewels for a while, and
+everything will be all right.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Yours respectfully,
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Edythe.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;P. S. It really ain&rsquo;t Peter&rsquo;s fault that he&rsquo;s silly about women, and he
+would have worked for you all right if it hadn&rsquo;t been for my good looks!&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+<br /><br />
+</p>
+<hr />
+<p>
+<a name="link2H_4_0067" id="link2H_4_0067"> </a>
+</p>
+<div style="height: 4em;">
+<br /><br /><br /><br />
+</div>
+<h2>
+Section 67
+</h2>
+<p>
+So there it was. When Peter had heard this letter, he understood that
+there was no more to be said, and he said it. His own weight had suddenly
+become more than he could support, and he saw a chair nearby and slipped
+into it, and sat with eyes of abject misery roaming from Guffey to
+McGivney, and from McGivney to Hammett, and then back to Guffey again.
+</p>
+<p>
+The head detective, for all his anger, was a practical man; he could not
+have managed the very important and confidential work of the Traction
+Trust if he had not been. So now he proceeded to get down to business.
+Peter would please tell him everything about that dynamite frame-up; just
+how they had managed it and just who knew about it. And Peter, being also
+a practical man, knew that there was no use trying to hide anything. He
+told the story from beginning to end, taking particular pains to make
+clear that he and Nell alone were in the secret&mdash;-except that beyond
+doubt Nell had told her lover, Ted Crothers. It was probably Crothers that
+got the dynamite. From the conversation that ensued Peter gathered that
+this young man with the face of a bull-dog was one of the very fanciest
+safecrackers in the country, and no doubt he was the real brains of the
+conspiracy; he had put Nell up to it, and managed every step. Suddenly
+Peter remembered all the kisses which Nell had given him in the park, and
+he found a blush of shame stealing over him. Yes, there was no doubt about
+it, he was a boob where women were concerned!
+</p>
+<p>
+Peter began to plead for himself, Really it wasn&rsquo;t his fault because Nell
+had got a hold on him. In the Temple of Jimjambo, when he was only a kid,
+he had been desperately in love with her. She was not only beautiful, she
+was so smart; she was the smartest woman he had ever known. McGivney
+remarked that she had been playing with Peter even then&mdash;she had been
+in Guffey&rsquo;s pay at that time, collecting evidence to put Pashtian el
+Kalandra in jail and break up the cult of Eleutherinian Exoticism. She had
+done many such jobs for the secret service of the Traction Trust, while
+Peter was still traveling around with Pericles Priam selling patent
+medicine. Nell had been used by Guffey to seduce a prominent labor leader
+in American City; she had got him caught in a hotel room with her, and
+thus had broken the back of the biggest labor strike ever known in the
+city&rsquo;s history.
+</p>
+<p>
+Peter felt suddenly that he had a good defense. Of course a woman like
+that had been too much for him! It was Guffey&rsquo;s own fault if he hired
+people like that and turned them loose! It suddenly dawned on Peter&mdash;Nell
+must have found out that he, Peter, was going to meet young Lackman in the
+Hotel de Soto, and she must have gone there deliberately to ensnare him.
+When McGivney admitted that that was possibly true, Peter felt that he had
+a case, and proceeded to urge it with eloquence. He had been a fool, of
+course, every kind of fool there was, and he hadn&rsquo;t a word to say for
+himself; but he had learned his lesson and learned it thoroughly. No more
+women for him, and no more high life, and if Mr. Guffey would give him
+another chance&mdash;
+</p>
+<p>
+Guffey, of course, snorted at him. He wouldn&rsquo;t have a pudding-head like
+Peter Gudge within ten miles of his office! But Peter only pleaded the
+more abjectly. He really did know the Reds thoroughly, and where could Mr.
+Guffey find anybody that knew them as well? The Reds all trusted him; he
+was a real martyr&mdash;look at the plasters all over him now! And he had
+just added another Red laurel to his brow&mdash;he had been to see Mrs.
+Godd, and had had the seat of his trousers kicked by Mr. Godd, and of
+course he could tell that story, and maybe he could catch some Reds in a
+conspiracy against Mr. Godd. Anyhow, they had that perfectly good case
+against McCormick and the rest of the I. W. Ws. And now that things had
+gone so far, surely they couldn&rsquo;t back down on that case! All that was
+necessary was to explain matters to Mr. Ackerman&mdash;
+</p>
+<p>
+Peter realized that this was an unfortunate remark. Guffey was on his feet
+again, pacing up and down the room, calling Peter the names of all the
+barnyard animals, and incidentally revealing that he had already had an
+interview with Mr. Ackerman, and that Mr. Ackerman was not disposed to
+receive amicably the news that the secret service bureau which he had been
+financing, and which was supposed to be protecting him, had been the means
+of introducing into his home a couple of high-class criminals who had
+cracked his safe and made off with jewels that they guessed were worth
+fifty thousand dollars, but that Mr. Ackerman claimed were worth
+eighty-five thousand dollars. Peter was informed that he might thank his
+lucky stars that Guffey didn&rsquo;t shut him in the hole for the balance of his
+life, or take him into a dungeon and pull him to pieces inch by inch. As
+it was, all he had to do was to get himself out of Guffey&rsquo;s office, and
+take himself to hell by the quickest route he could find. &ldquo;Go on!&rdquo; said
+Guffey. &ldquo;I mean it, get out!&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+And so Peter got to his feet and started unsteadily toward the door. He
+was thinking to himself: &ldquo;Shall I threaten them? Shall I say I&rsquo;ll go over
+to the Reds and tell what I know?&rdquo; No, he had better not do that; the
+least hint of that might cause Guffey to put him in the hole! But then,
+how was it possible for Guffey to let him go, to take a chance of his
+telling? Right now, Guffey must be thinking to himself that Peter might go
+away, and in a fit of rage or of despair might let out the truth to one of
+the Reds, and then everything would be ruined forever. No, surely Guffey
+would not take such a chance! Peter walked very slowly to the door, he
+opened the door reluctantly, he stood there, holding on as if he were too
+weak to keep his balance; he waited&mdash;waited&mdash;
+</p>
+<p>
+And sure enough, Guffey spoke. &ldquo;Come back here, you mut!&rdquo; And Peter turned
+and started towards the head detective, stretching out his hands in a
+gesture of submission; if it had been in an Eastern country, he would have
+fallen on his knees and struck his forehead three times in the dust.
+&ldquo;Please, please, Mr. Guffey!&rdquo; he wailed. &ldquo;Give me another chance!&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;If I put you to work again,&rdquo; snarled Guffey, &ldquo;will you do what I tell
+you, and not what you want to do yourself?&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Yes, yes, Mr. Guffey.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;You&rsquo;ll do no more frame-ups but my frame-ups?&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Yes, yes, Mr. Guffey.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;All right, then, I&rsquo;ll give you one more chance. But by God, if I find you
+so much as winking at another girl, I&rsquo;ll pull your eye teeth out!&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+And Peter&rsquo;s heart leaped with relief. &ldquo;Oh, thank you, thank you, Mr.
+Guffey!&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;I&rsquo;ll pay you twenty dollars a week, and no more,&rdquo; said Guffey. &ldquo;You&rsquo;re
+worth more, but I can&rsquo;t trust you with money, and you can take it or leave
+it.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;That&rsquo;ll be perfectly satisfactory, Mr. Guffey,&rdquo; said Peter.
+</p>
+<p>
+<br /><br />
+</p>
+<hr />
+<p>
+<a name="link2H_4_0068" id="link2H_4_0068"> </a>
+</p>
+<div style="height: 4em;">
+<br /><br /><br /><br />
+</div>
+<h2>
+Section 68
+</h2>
+<p>
+So there was the end of high life for Peter Gudge. He moved no more in the
+celestial circles of Mount Olympus. He never again saw the Chinese butler
+of Mr. Ackerman, nor the French parlor-maid of Mrs. Godd. He would no more
+be smiled at by the two hundred and twenty-four boy angels of the ceiling
+of the Hotel de Soto lobby. Peter would eat his meals now seated on a
+stool in front of a lunch counter, he would really be the humble
+proletarian, the &ldquo;Jimmie Higgins&rdquo; of his role. He put behind him bright
+dreams of an accumulated competence, and settled down to the hard day&rsquo;s
+work of cultivating the acquaintance of agitators, visiting their homes
+and watching their activities, getting samples of the literature they were
+circulating, stealing their letters and address-books and note-books, and
+taking all these to Room 427 of the American House.
+</p>
+<p>
+These were busy times just now. In spite of the whippings and the
+lynchings and the jailings&mdash;or perhaps because of these very things&mdash;the
+radical movement was seething. The I. W. Ws. had reorganized secretly, and
+were accumulating a defense fund for their prisoners; also, the Socialists
+of all shades of red and pink were busy, and the labor men had never
+ceased their agitation over the Goober case. Just now they were redoubling
+their activities, because Mrs. Goober was being tried for her life. Over
+in Russia a mob of Anarchists had made a demonstration in front of the
+American Legation, because of the mistreatment of a man they called
+&ldquo;Guba.&rdquo; At any rate, that was the way the news came over the cables, and
+the news-distributing associations of the country had been so successful
+in keeping the Goober case from becoming known that the editors of the New
+York papers really did not know any better, and printed the name as it
+came, &ldquo;Guba!&rdquo; which of course gave the radicals a fine chance to laugh at
+them, and say, how much they cared about labor!
+</p>
+<p>
+The extreme Reds seemed to have everything their own way in Russia. Late
+in the fall they overthrew the Russian government, and took control of the
+country, and proceeded to make peace with Germany; which put the Allies in
+a frightful predicament, and introduced a new word into the popular
+vocabulary, the dread word &ldquo;Bolshevik.&rdquo; After that, if a man suggested
+municipal ownership of ice-wagons, all you had to do was to call him a
+&ldquo;Bolshevik&rdquo; and he was done for.
+</p>
+<p>
+However, the extremists replied to this campaign of abuse by taking up the
+name and wearing it as a badge. The Socialist local of American City
+adopted amid a storm of applause a resolution to call itself the
+&ldquo;Bolshevik local,&rdquo; and the &ldquo;left-wingers&rdquo; had everything their own way for
+a time. The leader in this wing was a man named Herbert Ashton, editor of
+the American City &ldquo;Clarion,&rdquo; the party&rsquo;s paper. A newspaper-man, lean,
+sallow, and incredibly bitter, Ashton apparently had spent all his life
+studying the intrigues of international capital, and one never heard an
+argument advanced that he was not ready with an answer. He saw the war as
+a struggle between the old established commercialism of Great Britain,
+whose government he described as &ldquo;a gigantic trading corporation,&rdquo; and the
+newly arisen and more aggressive commercialism of Germany.
+</p>
+<p>
+Ashton would take the formulas of the war propagandists and treat them as
+a terrier treats a rat. So this was a war for democracy! The bankers of
+Paris had for the last twenty years been subsidizing the Russian Tsars,
+who had shipped a hundred thousand exiles to Siberia to make the world
+safe for democracy! The British Empire also had gone to war for democracy&mdash;first
+in Ireland, then in India and Egypt, then in the Whitechapel slums! No,
+said Ashton, the workers were not to be fooled with such bunk. Wall Street
+had loaned some billions of dollars to the Allied bankers, and now the
+American people were asked to shed their blood to make the world safe for
+those loans!
+</p>
+<p>
+Peter had been urging McGivney to put an end to this sort of agitation,
+and now the rat-faced man told him that the time for action had come.
+There was to be a big mass meeting to celebrate the Bolshevik revolution,
+and McGivney warned Peter to keep out of sight at that meeting, because
+there might be some clubbing. Peter left off his red badge, and the button
+with the clasped hands and went up into the gallery and lost himself in
+the crowd. He saw a great many &ldquo;bulls&rdquo; whom he knew scattered thru the
+audience, and also he saw the Chief of Police and the head of the city&rsquo;s
+detective bureau. When Herbert Ashton was half way thru his tirade, the
+Chief strode up to the platform and ordered him under arrest, and a score
+of policemen put themselves between the prisoner and the howling audience.
+</p>
+<p>
+Altogether they arrested seven people; and next morning, when they saw how
+much enthusiasm their action had awakened in the newspapers, they decided
+to go farther yet. A dozen of Guffey&rsquo;s men, with another dozen from the
+District Attorney&rsquo;s office, raided the office of Ashton&rsquo;s paper, the
+&ldquo;Clarion,&rdquo; kicked the editorial staff downstairs or threw them out of the
+windows, and proceeded to smash the typewriters and the printing presses,
+and to carry off the subscription lists and burn a ton or two of
+&ldquo;literature&rdquo; in the back yard. Also they raided the headquarters of the
+&ldquo;Bolshevik local,&rdquo; and placed the seven members of the executive committee
+under arrest, and the judge fixed the bail of each of them at twenty-five
+thousand dollars, and every day for a week or two the American City
+&ldquo;Times&rdquo; would send a man around to Guffey&rsquo;s office, and Guffey would
+furnish him with a mass of material which Peter had prepared, showing that
+the Socialist program was one of terrorism and murder.
+</p>
+<p>
+Almost every day now Peter rendered some such service to his country. He
+discovered where the I. W. W. had hidden a printing press with which they
+were getting out circulars and leaflets, and this place was raided, and
+the press confiscated, and half a dozen more agitators thrown into jail.
+These men declared a hunger strike, and tried to starve themselves to
+death as a protest against the beatings they got; and then some hysterical
+women met in the home of Ada Ruth, and drew up a circular of protest, and
+Peter kept track of the mailing of this circular, and all the copies were
+confiscated in the post-office, and so one more conspiracy was foiled.
+They now had several men at work in the post-office, secretly opening the
+mail of the agitators; and every now and then they would issue an order
+forbidding mail to be delivered to persons whose ideas were not sound.
+</p>
+<p>
+Also the post-office department cancelled the second class mailing
+privileges of the &ldquo;Clarion,&rdquo; and later it barred the paper from the mails
+entirely. A couple of &ldquo;comrades&rdquo; with automobiles then took up the work of
+delivering the paper in the nearby towns; so Peter was sent to get
+acquainted with these fellows, and in the night time some of Guffey&rsquo;s men
+entered the garage, and fixed one of the cars so that its steering gear
+went wrong and very nearly broke the driver&rsquo;s neck. So yet another
+conspiracy was foiled!
+</p>
+<p>
+<br /><br />
+</p>
+<hr />
+<p>
+<a name="link2H_4_0069" id="link2H_4_0069"> </a>
+</p>
+<div style="height: 4em;">
+<br /><br /><br /><br />
+</div>
+<h2>
+Section 69
+</h2>
+<p>
+Peter was really happy now, because the authorities were thoroughly
+roused, and when he brought them new facts, he had the satisfaction of
+seeing something done about it. Ostensibly the action was taken by the
+Federal agents, or by the District Attorney&rsquo;s office, or by the city
+police and detectives; but Peter knew that it was always himself and the
+rest of Guffey&rsquo;s agents, pulling the wires behind the scenes. Guffey had
+the money, he was working for the men who really counted in American City;
+Guffey was the real boss. And all over the country it was the same; the
+Reds were being put out of business by the secret agents of the Chambers
+of Commerce and the Merchants&rsquo; and Manufacturers&rsquo; Associations, and the
+&ldquo;Improve America League,&rdquo; and such like camouflaged organizations.
+</p>
+<p>
+They had everything their own way, because the country was at war, the war
+excitement was blazing like a prairie fire all over the land, and all you
+had to do was to call a man a pro-German or a Bolshevik, and to be
+sufficiently excited about it, and you could get a mob together and go to
+his home and horsewhip him or tar and feather him or lynch him. For years
+the big business men had been hating the agitators, and now at last they
+had their chance, and in every town, in every shop and mill and mine they
+had some Peter Gudge at work, a &ldquo;Jimmie Higgins&rdquo; of the &ldquo;Whites,&rdquo; engaged
+in spying and &ldquo;snooping&rdquo; upon the &ldquo;Jimmie Higgins&rdquo; of the &ldquo;Reds.&rdquo;
+ Everywhere they had Guffeys and McGivneys to direct these activities, and
+they had &ldquo;strong arm men,&rdquo; with guns on their hips and deputy sheriffs&rsquo; 
+and other badges inside their coats, giving them unlimited right to
+protect the country from traitors.
+</p>
+<p>
+There were three or four million men in the training camps, and every week
+great convoys were sent out from the Eastern ports, loaded with troops for
+&ldquo;over there.&rdquo; Billions of dollars worth of munitions and supplies were
+going, and all the yearnings and patriotic fervors of the country were
+likewise going &ldquo;over there.&rdquo; Peter read more speeches and sermons and
+editorials, and was proud and glad, knowing that he was taking his humble
+part in the great adventure. When he read that the biggest captains of
+industry and finance were selling their services to the government for the
+sum of one dollar a year, how could he complain, who was getting twenty
+dollars every week? When some of the Reds in their meetings or in their
+&ldquo;literature&rdquo; declared that these captains of industry and finance were the
+heads of companies which were charging the government enormous prices and
+making anywhere from three to ten times the profits they had made before
+the war&mdash;then Peter would know that he was listening to an extremely
+dangerous Bolshevik; he would take the name of the man to McGivney, and
+McGivney would pull his secret wires, and the man would suddenly find
+himself out of a job&mdash;or maybe being prosecuted by the health
+department of the city for having set out a garbage can without a cover.
+</p>
+<p>
+After persistent agitation, the radicals had succeeded in persuading a
+judge to let out McCormick and the rest of the conspirators on fifty
+thousand dollars bail apiece. That was most exasperating to Peter, because
+it was obvious that when you put a Red into jail, you made him a martyr to
+the rest of the Reds you made him conspicuous to the whole community, and
+then if you let him out again, his speaking and agitating were ten times
+as effective as before. Either you ought to keep an agitator in jail for
+good, or else you ought not put him in at all. But the judges didn&rsquo;t see
+that&mdash;their heads were full of a lot of legal bunk, and they let
+David Andrews and the other Red lawyers hood-wink them. Herbert Ashton and
+his Socialist crowd also got out on bail, and the &ldquo;Clarion&rdquo; was still
+published and openly sold on the news-stands. While it didn&rsquo;t dare oppose
+the war any more, it printed every impolite thing it could possibly
+collect about the &ldquo;gigantic trading corporation&rdquo; known as the British
+Government, and also about the &ldquo;French bankers&rdquo; and the &ldquo;Italian
+imperialists.&rdquo; It clamored for democracy for Ireland and Egypt and India,
+and shamelessly defended the Bolsheviki, those pro-German conspirators and
+nationalizers of women.
+</p>
+<p>
+So Peter proceeded to collect more evidence against the &ldquo;Clarion&rdquo; staff,
+and against the I. W. Ws. Presently he read the good news that the
+government had arrested a couple of hundred of the I. W. W. leaders all
+over the country, and also the national leaders of the Socialists, and was
+going to try them all for conspiracy. Then came the trial of McCormick and
+Henderson and Gus and the rest; and Peter picked up his &ldquo;Times&rdquo; one
+morning, and read on the front page some news that caused him to gasp. Joe
+Angell, one of the leaders in the dynamite conspiracy, had turned state&rsquo;s
+evidence! He had revealed to the District Attorney, not only the part
+which he himself had played in the plan to dynamite Nelse Ackerman&rsquo;s home,
+but he had told everything that the others had done&mdash;just how the
+dynamite had been got and prepared, and the names of all the leading
+citizens of the community who were to share Nelse Ackerman&rsquo;s fate! Peter
+read, on and on, breathless with wonder, and when he got thru with the
+story he rolled back on his bed and laughed out loud. By heck, that was
+the limit! Peter had framed a frame-up on Guffey&rsquo;s man, and of course
+Guffey couldn&rsquo;t send this man to prison; so he had had him turn state&rsquo;s
+evidence, and was letting him go free, as his reward for telling on the
+others!
+</p>
+<p>
+The court calendars were now crowded with &ldquo;espionage&rdquo; cases; pacifist
+clergymen who had tried to preach sermons, and labor leaders who had tried
+to call strikes; members of the Anti-conscription League and their pupils,
+the draft-dodgers and slackers; Anarchists and Communists and Quakers, I.
+W. Ws., and Socialists and &ldquo;Russellites.&rdquo; There were several trials going
+on all the time, and in almost every case Peter had a finger, Peter was
+called on to get this bit of evidence, or to investigate that juror, or to
+prepare some little job against a witness for the defense. Peter was
+wrapped up in the fate of each case, and each conviction was a personal
+triumph. As there was always a conviction, Peter began to swell up again
+with patriotic fervor, and the memory of Nell Doolin and Ted Crothers
+slipped far into the background. When &ldquo;Mac&rdquo; and his fellow dynamiters were
+sentenced to twenty years apiece, Peter felt that he had atoned for all
+his sins, and he ventured timidly to point out to McGivney that the cost
+of living was going up all the time, and that he had kept his promise not
+to wink at a woman for six months. McGivney said all right, they would
+raise him to thirty dollars a week.
+</p>
+<p>
+<br /><br />
+</p>
+<hr />
+<p>
+<a name="link2H_4_0070" id="link2H_4_0070"> </a>
+</p>
+<div style="height: 4em;">
+<br /><br /><br /><br />
+</div>
+<h2>
+Section 70
+</h2>
+<p>
+Of course Peter&rsquo;s statement to McGivney had not been literally true. He
+had winked at a number of women, but the trouble was none had returned his
+wink. First he had made friendly advances toward Miriam Yankovich, who was
+buxom and not bad looking; but Miriam&rsquo;s thoughts were evidently all with
+McCormick in jail; and then, after her experience with Bob Ogden, Miriam
+had to go to a hospital, and of course Peter didn&rsquo;t want to fool with an
+invalid. He made himself agreeable to others of the Red girls, and they
+seemed to like him; they treated him as a good comrade, but somehow they
+did not seem to act up to McGivney&rsquo;s theories of &ldquo;free love.&rdquo; So Peter
+made up his mind that he would find him a girl who was not a Red. It would
+give him a little relief now and then, a little fun. The Reds seldom had
+any fun&mdash;their idea of an adventure was to get off in a room by
+themselves and sing the International or the Red Flag in whispers, so the
+police couldn&rsquo;t hear them.
+</p>
+<p>
+It was Saturday afternoon, and Peter went to a clothing store kept by a
+Socialist, and bought himself a new hat and a new suit of clothes on
+credit. Then he went out on the street, and saw a neat little girl going
+into a picture-show, and followed her, and they struck up an acquaintance
+and had supper together. She was what Peter called a &ldquo;swell dresser,&rdquo; and
+it transpired that she worked in a manicure parlor. Her idea of fun
+corresponded to Peter&rsquo;s, and Peter spent all the money he had that
+Saturday evening, and made up his mind that if he could get something new
+on the Reds in the course of the week, he would strike McGivney for forty
+dollars.
+</p>
+<p>
+Next morning was Easter Sunday, and Peter met his manicurist by
+appointment, and they went for a stroll on Park Avenue, which was the
+aristocratic street of American City and the scene of the &ldquo;Easter parade.&rdquo;
+ It was war time, and many of the houses had flags out, and many of the men
+were in uniform, and all of the sermons dealt with martial themes. Christ,
+it appeared, was risen again to make the world safe for democracy, and to
+establish self-determination for all people; and Peter and Miss Frisbie
+both had on their best clothes, and watched the crowds in the &ldquo;Easter
+parade,&rdquo; and Miss Frisbie studied the costumes and make-up of the ladies,
+and picked up scraps of their conversation and whispered them to Peter,
+and made Peter feel that he was back on Mount Olympus again.
+</p>
+<p>
+They turned into one of the swell Park Avenue churches; the Church of the
+Divine Compassion it was called, and it was very &ldquo;high,&rdquo; with candles and
+incense&mdash;althogh you could hardly smell the incense on this occasion
+for the scent of the Easter lilies and the ladies. Peter and his friend
+were escorted to one of the leather covered pews, and they heard the Rev.
+de Willoughby Stotterbridge, a famous pulpit orator, deliver one of those
+patriotic sermons which were quoted in the &ldquo;Times&rdquo; almost every Monday
+morning. The Rev. de Willoughby Stotterbridge quoted some Old Testament
+text about exterminating the enemies of the Lord, and he sang the triumph
+of American arms, and the overwhelming superiority of American munitions.
+He denounced the Bolsheviks and all other traitors, and called for their
+instant suppression; he didn&rsquo;t say that he had actually been among the
+crowd which had horse-whipped the I. W. Ws. and smashed the printing
+presses and typewriters of the Socialists, but he made it unmistakably
+clear that that was what he wanted, and Peter&rsquo;s bosom swelled with happy
+pride. It was something to a man to know that he was serving his country
+and keeping the old flag waving; but it was still more to know that he was
+enlisted in the service of the Almighty, that Heaven and all its hosts
+were on his side, and that everything he had done had the sanction of the
+Almighty&rsquo;s divinely ordained minister, speaking in the Almighty&rsquo;s holy
+temple, in the midst of stained-glass windows and brightly burning candles
+and the ravishing odor of incense, and of Easter lilies and of mignonette
+and lavender in the handkerchiefs of delicately gowned and exquisite
+ladies from Mount Olympus. This, to be sure, was mixing mythologies, but
+Peter&rsquo;s education had been neglected in his youth, and Peter could not be
+blamed for taking the great ones of the earth as they were, and believing
+what they taught him.
+</p>
+<p>
+The white robed choir marched out, and the music of &ldquo;Onward Christian
+Soldiers&rdquo; faded away, and Peter and his lady went out from the Church of
+the Divine Compassion, and strolled on the avenue again, and when they had
+sufficiently filled their nostrils with the sweet odors of snobbery, they
+turned into the park, where there were places of seclusion for young
+couples interested in each other. But alas, the fates which dogged Peter
+in his love-making had prepared an especially cruel prank that morning. At
+the entrance to the park, whom should Peter meet but Comrade
+Schnitzelmann, a fat little butcher who belonged to the &ldquo;Bolshevik local&rdquo;
+ of American City. Peter tried to look the other way and hurry by, but
+Comrade Schnitzelmann would not have it so. He came rushing up with one
+pudgy hand stretched out, and a beaming smile on his rosy Teutonic
+countenance. &ldquo;Ach, Comrade Gudge!&rdquo; cried he. &ldquo;Wie geht&rsquo;s mit you dis
+morning?&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Very well, thank you,&rdquo; said Peter, coldly, and tried to hurry on.
+</p>
+<p>
+But Comrade Schnitzelmann held onto his hand. &ldquo;So! You been seeing dot
+Easter barade!&rdquo; said he. &ldquo;Vot you tink, hey? If we could get all de wage
+slaves to come und see dot barade, we make dem all Bolsheviks pretty
+quick! Hey, Comrade Gudge?&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Yes, I guess so,&rdquo; said Peter, still more coldly.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;We show dem vot de money goes for&mdash;hey, Comrade Gudge!&rdquo; And Comrade
+Schnitzelmann chuckled, and Peter said, quickly, &ldquo;Well, good-bye,&rdquo; and
+without introducing his lady-love took her by the arm and hurried away.
+</p>
+<p>
+But alas, the damage had been done! They walked for a minute or two amid
+ominous silence. Then suddenly the manicurist stood still and confronted
+Peter. &ldquo;Mr. Gudge,&rdquo; she demanded, &ldquo;what does that mean?&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+And Peter of course could not answer. He did not dare to meet her flashing
+eyes, but stood digging the toe of his shoe into the path. &ldquo;I want to know
+what it means,&rdquo; persisted the girl. &ldquo;Are you one of those Reds?&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+And what could poor Peter say? How could he explain his acquaintance with
+that Teutonic face and that Teutonic accent?
+</p>
+<p>
+The girl stamped her foot with impatient anger. &ldquo;So you&rsquo;re one of those
+Reds! You&rsquo;re one of those pro-German traitors! You&rsquo;re an imposter, a spy!&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+Peter was helpless with embarrassment and dismay. &ldquo;Miss Frisbie,&rdquo; he
+began, &ldquo;I can&rsquo;t explain&mdash;&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;<i>Why</i> can&rsquo;t you explain? Why can&rsquo;t any honest man explain?&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;But&mdash;but&mdash;I&rsquo;m not what you think&mdash;it isn&rsquo;t true! I&mdash;I&mdash;&rdquo;
+ It was on the tip of Peter&rsquo;s tongue to say, &ldquo;I&rsquo;m a patriot! I&rsquo;m a 100%
+American, protecting my country against these traitors!&rdquo; But professional
+honor sealed his tongue, and the little manicurist stamped her foot again,
+and her eyes flashed with indignation.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;You dare to seek my acquaintance! You dare to take me to church! Why&mdash;if
+there was a policeman in sight, I&rsquo;d report you, I&rsquo;d send you to jail!&rdquo; And
+actually she looked around for a policeman! But it is well known that
+there never is a policeman in sight when you look for one; so Miss Frisbie
+stamped her foot again and snorted in Peter&rsquo;s face. &ldquo;Goodbye, <i>Comrade</i>
+Gudge!&rdquo; The emphasis she put upon that word &ldquo;comrade&rdquo; would have frozen
+the fieriest Red soul; and she turned with a swish of her skirts and
+strode off, and Peter stood looking mournfully at her little French heels
+going crunch, crunch, crunch on the gravel path. When the heels were clean
+gone out of sight, Peter sought out the nearest bench and sat down and
+buried his face in his hands, a picture of woe. Was there ever in the
+world a man who had such persistent ill luck with women?
+</p>
+<p>
+<br /><br />
+</p>
+<hr />
+<p>
+<a name="link2H_4_0071" id="link2H_4_0071"> </a>
+</p>
+<div style="height: 4em;">
+<br /><br /><br /><br />
+</div>
+<h2>
+Section 71
+</h2>
+<p>
+These were days of world-agony, when people bought the newspapers several
+times every day, and when crowds gathered in front of bulletin boards,
+looking at the big maps with little flags, and speculating, were the
+Germans going to get to Paris, were they going to get to the Channel and
+put France out of the war? And then suddenly the Americans struck their
+first blow, and hurled the Germans back at Chateau-Thierry, and all
+America rose up with one shout of triumph!
+</p>
+<p>
+You would think that was a poor time for pacifist agitation; but the
+members of the Anti-conscription League had so little discretion that they
+chose this precise moment to publish a pamphlet, describing the torturing
+of conscientious objectors in military prisons and training camps! Peter
+had been active in this organization from the beginning, and he had helped
+to write into the pamphlet a certain crucial phrase which McGivney had
+suggested. So now here were the pamphlets seized by the Federal
+government, and all the members of the Anti-conscription League under
+arrest, including Sadie Todd and little Ada Ruth and Donald Gordon! Peter
+was sorry about Sadie Todd, in spite of the fact that she had called him
+names. He couldn&rsquo;t be very sorry about Ada Ruth, because she was obviously
+a fanatic, bent on getting herself into trouble. As for Donald Gordon, if
+he hadn&rsquo;t learned his lesson from that whipping, he surely had nobody to
+blame but himself.
+</p>
+<p>
+Peter was a member of this Anti-conscription League, so he pretended to be
+in hiding, and carried on a little comedy with Ada Ruth&rsquo;s cousin, an
+Englishwoman, who hid him out in her place in the country. Peter had an
+uncomfortable quarter of an hour when Donald Gordon was released on bail,
+because the Quaker boy insisted that the crucial phrase which had got them
+all into trouble had been stricken out of the manuscript before he handed
+it to Peter Gudge to take to the printer. But Peter insisted that Donald
+was mistaken, and apparently he succeeded in satisfying the others, and
+after they were all out on bail, he made bold to come out of his hiding
+place and to attend one or two protest meetings in private homes.
+</p>
+<p>
+Then began a new adventure, in some ways the most startling of all. It had
+to do with another girl, and the beginning was in the home of Ada Ruth,
+where a few of the most uncompromising of the pacifists gathered to
+discuss the question of raising money to pay for their legal defense. To
+this meeting came Miriam Yankovich, pale from an operation for cancer of
+the breast, but with a heart and mind as Red as ever. Miriam had brought
+along a friend to help her, because she wasn&rsquo;t strong enough to walk; and
+it was this friend who started Peter on his new adventure.
+</p>
+<p>
+Rosie Stern was her name, and she was a solid little Jewish working girl,
+with bold black eyes, and a mass of shining black hair, and flaming cheeks
+and a flashing smile. She was dressed as if she knew about her beauty, and
+really appreciated it; so Peter wasn&rsquo;t surprised when Miriam, introducing
+her, remarked that Rosie wasn&rsquo;t a Red and didn&rsquo;t like the Reds, but had
+just come to help her, and to see what a pacifist meeting was like.
+Perhaps Peter might help to make a Red out of her! And Peter was very glad
+indeed, for he was never more bored with the whining of pacifists than now
+when our boys were hurling the Germans back from the Marne and writing
+their names upon history&rsquo;s most imperishable pages.
+</p>
+<p>
+Rosie was something new and unforeseen, and Peter went right after her,
+and presently he realized with delight that she was interested in him.
+Peter knew, of course, that he was superior to all this crowd, but he
+wasn&rsquo;t used to having the fact recognized, and as usual when a woman
+smiled upon him, the pressure of his self-esteem rose beyond the safety
+point. Rosie was one of those people who take the world as it is and get
+some fun out of it, so while the pacifist meeting went on, Peter sat over
+in the corner and told her in whispers his funny adventures with Pericles
+Priam and in the Temple of Jimjambo. Rosie could hardly repress her
+laughter, and her black eyes flashed, and before the evening was over
+their hands had touched several times. Then Peter offered to escort her
+and Miriam, and needless to say they took Miriam home first. The tenement
+streets were deserted at this late hour, so they found a chance for swift
+embraces, and Peter went home with his feet hardly touching the ground.
+</p>
+<p>
+Rosie worked in a paper-box factory, and next evening Peter took her out
+to dinner, and their eager flirtation went on. But Rosie showed a tendency
+to retreat, and when Peter pressed her, she told him the reason. She had
+no use for Reds; she was sick of the jargon of the Reds, she would never
+love a Red. Look at Miriam Yankovich&mdash;what a wreck she had made of
+her life! She had been a handsome girl, she might have got a rich husband,
+but now she had had to be cut to pieces! And look at Sadie Todd, slaving
+herself to death, and Ada Ruth with her poems that made you tired. Rosie
+jeered at them all, and riddled them with the arrows of her wit, and of
+course Peter in his heart agreed with everything she said; yet Peter had
+to pretend to disagree, and that made Rosie cross and spoiled their fun,
+and they almost quarreled.
+</p>
+<p>
+Under these circumstances, naturally it was hard for Peter not to give
+some hint of his true feeling. After he had spent all of his money on
+Rosie and a lot of his time and hadn&rsquo;t got anywhere, he decided to make
+some concession to her&mdash;he told her he would give up trying to make a
+Red out of her. Whereupon Rosie made a face at him. &ldquo;Very kind indeed of
+you, Mr. Gudge! But how about my making a &lsquo;White&rsquo; out of you?&rdquo; And she
+went on to inform him that she wanted a fellow that could make money and
+take care of a girl. Peter answered that he was making money all right.
+Well, how was he making money, asked Rosie. Peter wouldn&rsquo;t tell, but he
+was making it, and he would prove it by taking her to the theater every
+night.
+</p>
+<p>
+So the little duel went on, evening after evening. Peter got more and more
+crazy about this black-eyed beauty, and she got more and more coquettish,
+and more and more impatient with his radical leanings. Rosie&rsquo;s father had
+brought her as a baby from Kisheneff, but she was 100% American all the
+same, so she told him; those boys in khaki who were over there walloping
+the Huns were the boys for her, and she was waiting for one of them to
+come back. What was the matter with Peter that he wasn&rsquo;t doing his part?
+Was he a draft-dodger? Rosie had never had anything to do with slackers,
+and wasn&rsquo;t keen for the company of a man who couldn&rsquo;t give an account of
+himself. Only that day she had been reading in the paper about the
+atrocities committed by the Huns. How could any man with red blood in his
+veins sympathize with these pacifists and traitors? And if Peter didn&rsquo;t
+sympathize with them, why did he travel round with them and give them his
+moral support? When Peter made a feeble effort at repeating some of the
+pacifists&rsquo; arguments, Rosie just said, &ldquo;Oh, fudge! You&rsquo;ve got too much
+sense to talk that kind of stuff to me.&rdquo; And Peter knew, of course, that
+he <i>had</i> too much sense, and it was hard to keep from letting Rosie
+see it. He had just lost one girl because of his Red entanglements. Was it
+up to him to lose another?
+</p>
+<p>
+For a couple of weeks they sparred and fought. Rosie would let Peter kiss
+her, and Peter&rsquo;s head would be quite turned with desire. He decided that
+she was the most wonderful girl he had ever known; even Nell Doolin had
+nothing on her. But then once more she would pin Peter down on this
+business of his Redness, and would spurn him, and refuse to see him any
+more. At last Peter admitted to her that he had lost his sympathy with the
+Reds, she had converted him, and he despised them. So Rosie replied that
+she was delighted; they would go at once to see Miriam Yankovich, and
+Peter would tell her, and try to convert her also. Peter was then in a bad
+dilemma; he had to insist that Rosie should keep his conversion a secret.
+But Rosie became indignant, she set her lips and declared that a
+conversion that had to be kept secret was no conversion at all, it was
+simply a low sham, and Peter Gudge was a coward, and she was sick of him!
+So poor Peter went away, heartbroken and bewildered.
+</p>
+<p>
+<br /><br />
+</p>
+<hr />
+<p>
+<a name="link2H_4_0072" id="link2H_4_0072"> </a>
+</p>
+<div style="height: 4em;">
+<br /><br /><br /><br />
+</div>
+<h2>
+Section 72
+</h2>
+<p>
+There was only one way out of this plight for Peter, and that was for him
+to tell Rosie the truth. And why should he not do it? He was wild about
+her, and he knew that she was wild about him, and only one thing&mdash;his
+great secret&mdash;stood in the way of their perfect bliss. If he told her
+that great secret, he would be a hero of heroes in her eyes; he would be
+more wonderful even than the men who were driving back the Germans from
+the Marne and writing their names upon history&rsquo;s most imperishable pages!
+So why should he not tell?
+</p>
+<p>
+He was in her room one evening, and his arms were about her, and she had
+almost but not quite yielded. &ldquo;Please, please, Peter,&rdquo; she pleaded, &ldquo;stop
+being one of those horrid Reds!&rdquo; And Peter could stand it no longer. He
+told her that he really wasn&rsquo;t a Red, but a secret agent employed by the
+very biggest business men of American City to keep track of the Reds and
+bring their activities to naught. And when he told this, Rosie stared at
+him in consternation. She refused to believe him; when he insisted, she
+laughed at him, and finally became angry. It was a silly yarn, and did he
+imagine he could string her along like that?
+</p>
+<p>
+So Peter, irritated, set out to convince her. He told her about Guffey and
+the American City Land &amp; Investment Company; he told her about
+McGivney, and how he met McGivney regularly at Room 427 of the American
+House. He told her about his thirty dollars a week, and how it was soon to
+be increased to forty, and he would spend it all on her. And perhaps she
+might pretend to be converted by him, and become a Red also, and if she
+could satisfy McGivney that she was straight, he would pay her too, and it
+would be a lot better than working ten and a half hours a day in Isaac
+&amp; Goldstein&rsquo;s paper box factory.
+</p>
+<p>
+At last Peter succeeded in convincing the girl. She was subdued and
+frightened; she hadn&rsquo;t been prepared for anything like that, she said, and
+would have to have a little time to think it over. Peter then became
+worried in turn. He hoped she wouldn&rsquo;t mind, he said, and set to work to
+explain to her how important his work was, how it had the sanction of all
+the very best people in the city&mdash;not merely the great bankers and
+business men, but mayors and public officials and newspaper editors and
+college presidents, and great Park Avenue clergymen like the Rev. de
+Willoughby Stotterbridge of the Church of the Divine Compassion. And Rosie
+said that was all right, of course, but she was a little scared and would
+have to think it over. She brought the evening to an abrupt end, and Peter
+went home much disconcerted.
+</p>
+<p>
+Perhaps an hour later there came a sharp tap on the door of his
+lodging-house room, and he went to the door, and found himself confronted
+by David Andrews, the lawyer, Donald Gordon, and John Durand, the labor
+giant, president of the Seamen&rsquo;s Union. They never even said, &ldquo;Howdy do,&rdquo;
+ but stalked into the room, and Durand shut the door behind him, and stood
+with his back to it, folded his arms and glared at Peter like the stone
+image of an Aztec chieftain. So before they said a word Peter knew what
+had happened. He knew that the jig was up for good this time; his career
+as savior of the nation was at an end. And again it was all on account of
+a woman&mdash;all because he hadn&rsquo;t taken Guffey&rsquo;s advice about winking!
+</p>
+<p>
+But all other thoughts were driven from Peter&rsquo;s mind by one emotion, which
+was terror. His teeth began giving their imitation of an angry woodchuck,
+and his knees refused to hold him; he sat down on the edge of the bed,
+staring from one to another of these three stone Aztec faces. &ldquo;Well,
+Gudge,&rdquo; said Andrews, at last, &ldquo;so you&rsquo;re the spy we&rsquo;ve been looking for
+all this time!&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+Peter remembered Nell&rsquo;s injunction, &ldquo;Stick it out, Peter! Stick it out!&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Wh-wh-what do you mean, Mr. Andrews?&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Forget it, Gudge,&rdquo; said Andrews. &ldquo;We&rsquo;ve just been talking with Rosie, and
+Rosie was our spy.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;She&rsquo;s been lying to you!&rdquo; Peter cried.
+</p>
+<p>
+But Andrews said: &ldquo;Oh rubbish! We&rsquo;re not that easy! Miriam Yankovich was
+listening behind the door, and heard your talk.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+So then Peter knew that the case was hopeless, and there was nothing left
+but to ascertain his fate. Had they come just to scold him and appeal to
+his conscience? Or did they plan to carry him away and strangle him and
+torture him to death? The latter was the terror that had been haunting
+Peter from the beginning of his career, and when gradually be made out
+that the three Aztecs did not intend violence, and that all they hoped for
+was to get him to admit how much he had told to his employers&mdash;then
+there was laughter inside Peter, and he broke down and wept tears of
+scalding shame, and said that it had all been because McCormick had told
+that cruel lie about him and little Jennie Todd. He had resisted the
+temptation for a year, but then he had been out of a job, and the Goober
+Defense Committee had refused him any work; he had actually been starving,
+and so at last he had accepted McGivney&rsquo;s offer to let him know about the
+seditious activities of the extreme Reds. But he had never reported
+anybody who hadn&rsquo;t really broken the law, and he had never told McGivney
+anything but the truth.
+</p>
+<p>
+Then Andrews proceeded to examine him. Peter denied that he had ever
+reported anything about the Goober case. He denied most strenuously that
+he had ever had anything to do with the McCormick &ldquo;frame-up.&rdquo; When they
+tried to pin him down on this case and that, he suddenly summoned his
+dignity and declared that Andrews had no right to cross-question him, he
+was a 100%, red-blooded American patriot, and had been saving his country
+and his God from German agents and Bolshevik traitors.
+</p>
+<p>
+Donald Gordon almost went wild at that. &ldquo;What you&rsquo;ve been doing was to
+slip stuff into our pamphlet about conscientious objectors, so as to get
+us all indicted!&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;That&rsquo;s a lie!&rdquo; cried Peter. &ldquo;I never done nothing of the kind!&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;You know perfectly well you rubbed out those pencil marks that I drew
+through that sentence in the pamphlet.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;I never done it!&rdquo; cried Peter, again and again.
+</p>
+<p>
+And suddenly big John Durand clenched his hands, and his face became
+terrible with his pent-up rage. &ldquo;You white-livered little sneak!&rdquo; he
+hissed. &ldquo;What we ought to do with you is to pull the lying tongue out of
+you!&rdquo; He took a step forward, as if he really meant to do it.
+</p>
+<p>
+But David Andrews interfered. He was a lawyer, and knew the difference
+between what he could do and what Guffey&rsquo;s men could do. &ldquo;No, no, John,&rdquo;
+ he said, &ldquo;nothing like that. I guess we&rsquo;ve got all we can get out of this
+fellow. We&rsquo;ll leave him to his own conscience and his Jingo God. Come on,
+Donald.&rdquo; And he took the white-faced Quaker boy with one hand, and the big
+labor giant with the other, and walked them out of the room, and Peter
+heard them tramping down the stairs of his lodging house, and he lay on
+his bed and buried his face in the pillows, and felt utterly wretched,
+because once more he had been made a fool of, and as usual it was a woman
+that had done it.
+</p>
+<p>
+<br /><br />
+</p>
+<hr />
+<p>
+<a name="link2H_4_0073" id="link2H_4_0073"> </a>
+</p>
+<div style="height: 4em;">
+<br /><br /><br /><br />
+</div>
+<h2>
+Section 73
+</h2>
+<p>
+Peter could see it all very clearly when he came to figure over the thing;
+he could see what a whooping jackass he had been. He might have known that
+it was up to him to be careful, at this time of all times, when he was
+suspected of having rubbed out Donald Gordon&rsquo;s pencil marks. They had
+picked out a girl whom Peter had never seen before, and she had come and
+posed as Miriam&rsquo;s friend, and had proceeded to take Peter by the nose and
+lead him to the edge of the precipice and shove him over. And now she
+would be laughing at him, telling all her friends about her triumph, and
+about Peter&rsquo;s thirty dollars a week that he would never see again.
+</p>
+<p>
+Peter spent a good part of the night getting up the story that he was to
+tell McGivney next morning. He wouldn&rsquo;t mention Rosie Stern, of course; he
+would say that the Reds had trailed him to Room 427, and it must be they
+had a spy in Guffey&rsquo;s office. Peter repeated this story quite solemnly,
+and again realized too late that he had made a fool of himself. It wasn&rsquo;t
+twenty-four hours before every Red in American City knew the true, inside
+history of the unveiling of Peter Gudge as a spy of the Traction Trust.
+The story occupied a couple of pages in that week&rsquo;s issue of the
+&ldquo;Clarion,&rdquo; and included Peter&rsquo;s picture, and an account of the part that
+Peter had played in various frame-ups. It was nearly all true, and the
+fact that it was guess-work on Donald Gordon&rsquo;s part did not make it any
+the better for Peter. Of course McGivney and Guffey and all his men read
+the story, and knew Peter for the whooping jackass that Peter knew
+himself.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;You go and get yourself a job with a pick and shovel,&rdquo; said McGivney, and
+Peter sorrowfully took his departure. He had only a few dollars in his
+pocket, and these did not last very long, and he had got down to his last
+nickel, and was confronting the wolf of starvation again, when McGivney
+came to his lodging house room with a new proposition. There was one job
+left, and Peter might take it if he thought he could stand the gaff.
+</p>
+<p>
+It was the job of state&rsquo;s witness. Peter had been all thru the Red
+movement, he knew all these pacifists and Socialists and Syndicalists and
+I. W. Ws. who were now in jail. In some cases the evidence of the
+government was far from satisfactory; so Peter might have his salary back
+again, if he were willing to take the witness stand and tell what he was
+told to tell, and if he could manage to sit in a courtroom without falling
+in love with some of the lady jurors, or some of the lady spies of the
+defense. These deadly shafts of sarcasm Peter did not even feel, because
+he was so frightened by the proposition which McGivney put up to him. To
+come out into the open and face the blinding glare of the Red hate! To
+place himself, the ant, between the smashing fists of the battling giants!
+</p>
+<p>
+Yes, it might seem dangerous, said McGivney, for a cowardly little whelp
+like himself; but then a good many men had had the nerve to do it, and
+none of them had died yet. McGivney himself did not pretend to care very
+much whether Peter did it or not; he put the matter up to him on Guffey&rsquo;s
+orders. The job was worth forty dollars a week, and he might take it or
+leave it.
+</p>
+<p>
+And there sat Peter, with only a nickel and a couple of pennies in his
+pocket, and the rent for his room two weeks over-due, and his landlady
+lying in wait in the hallway like an Indian with a tomahawk. Peter
+objected, what about all those bad things in his early record, Pericles
+Priam and the Temple of Jimjambo, which had ruined him as a witness in the
+Goober case. McGivney answered dryly that he couldn&rsquo;t let himself out with
+that excuse; he was invited to pose as a reformed &ldquo;wobbly,&rdquo; and the more
+crimes and rascalities he had in his record, the more convinced the jury
+would be that he had been a real &ldquo;wobbly.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+Peter asked, just when would he be expected to appear? And McGivney
+answered, the very next week. They were trying seventeen of the &ldquo;wobblies&rdquo;
+ on a conspiracy charge, and Peter would be expected to take the stand and
+tell how he had heard them advocate violence, and heard them boast of
+having set fire to barns and wheat fields, and how they had put phosphorus
+bombs into haystacks, and copper nails into fruit trees, and spikes into
+sawmill logs, and emery powder into engine bearings. Peter needn&rsquo;t worry
+about what he would have to say, McGivney would tell him everything, and
+would see him thoroughly posted, and he would find himself a hero in the
+newspapers, which would make clear that he had done everything from the
+very highest possible motives of 100% Americanism, and that no soldier in
+the war had been performing a more dangerous service.
+</p>
+<p>
+To Peter it seemed they might say that without troubling their conscience
+very much. But McGivney went on to declare that he needn&rsquo;t be afraid; it
+was no part of Guffey&rsquo;s program to give the Reds the satisfaction of
+putting his star witness out of business. Peter would be kept in a safe
+place, and would always have a body-guard. While he was in the city,
+giving his testimony, they would put him up at the Hotel de Soto.
+</p>
+<p>
+And that of course settled it. Here was poor Peter, with only a nickel and
+two coppers in his pocket, and before him stood a chariot of fire with
+magic steeds, and all he had to do was to step in, and be whirled away to
+Mount Olympus. Peter stepped in!
+</p>
+<p>
+<br /><br />
+</p>
+<hr />
+<p>
+<a name="link2H_4_0074" id="link2H_4_0074"> </a>
+</p>
+<div style="height: 4em;">
+<br /><br /><br /><br />
+</div>
+<h2>
+Section 74
+</h2>
+<p>
+McGivney took him to Guffey&rsquo;s office, and Guffey wasted no time upon
+preliminaries, but turned to his desk, and took out a long typewritten
+document, a complete account of what the prosecution meant to prove
+against the seventeen I. W. Ws. First, Peter told what he himself had seen
+and heard&mdash;not very much, but a beginning, a hook to hang his story
+upon. The I. W. W. hall was the meeting place for the casual and homeless
+labor of the country, the &ldquo;bindle-stiffs&rdquo; who took the hardest of the
+world&rsquo;s hard knocks, and sometimes returned them. There was no kind of
+injustice these fellows hadn&rsquo;t experienced, and now and then they had
+given blow for blow. Also there were loose talkers among them, who worked
+off their feelings by threats of vengeance upon their enemies. Now and
+then a real criminal came along, and now and then a paid inciter, a Peter
+Gudge or a Joe Angell. Peter told the worst that he had heard, and all he
+knew about the arrested men, and Guffey wrote it all down, and then
+proceeded to build upon it. This fellow Alf Guinness had had a row with a
+farmer in Wheatland County; there had been a barn burned nearby, and
+Guffey would furnish an automobile and a couple of detectives to travel
+with Peter, and they would visit the scene of that fire and the nearby
+village, and familiarize themselves with the locality, and Peter would
+testify how he had been with Guinness when he and a half dozen of the
+defendants had set fire to that barn.
+</p>
+<p>
+Peter hadn&rsquo;t intended anything quite so serious as that, but Guffey was so
+business-like, and took it all so much as a matter of course, that Peter
+was afraid to show the white feather. After all, this was war-time;
+hundreds of men were giving up their lives every day in the Argonne, and
+why shouldn&rsquo;t Peter take a little risk in order to put out of business his
+country&rsquo;s most dangerous enemies?
+</p>
+<p>
+So Peter and his two detectives blew themselves to a joy ride in the
+country. And then Peter was brought back and made comfortable in a room on
+the twelfth floor of the Hotel de Soto, where he diligently studied the
+typewritten documents which McGivney brought him, and thoroughly learned
+the story he was to tell. There was always one of Guffey&rsquo;s men walking up
+and down in the hallway outside with a gun on his hip, and they brought
+Peter three meals a day, not forgetting a bottle of beer and a package of
+cigarettes. Twice a day Peter read in the newspapers about the heroic
+deeds of our boys over there, and also about the latest bomb plots which
+had been discovered all over the country, and about various trials under
+the espionage act.
+</p>
+<p>
+Also, Peter had the thrill of reading about himself in a real newspaper.
+Hitherto he had been featured in labor papers, and Socialist papers like
+the &ldquo;Clarion,&rdquo; which did not count; but now the American City &ldquo;Times&rdquo; came
+out with a long story of how the district attorney&rsquo;s office had &ldquo;planted&rdquo;
+ a secret agent with the I. W. W., and how this man, whose name was Peter
+Gudge, had been working as one of them for the past two years, and was
+going to reveal the whole story of I. W. W. infamy on the witness stand.
+</p>
+<p>
+Two days before the trial Peter was escorted by McGivney and another
+detective to the district attorney&rsquo;s office, and spent the best part of
+the day in conference with Mr. Burchard and his deputy, Mr. Stannard, who
+were to try the case. McGivney had told Peter that the district attorney
+was not in the secret, he really believed that Peter&rsquo;s story was all true;
+but Peter suspected that this was camouflage, to save Mr. Burchard&rsquo;s face,
+and to protect him in case Peter ever tried to &ldquo;throw him down.&rdquo; Peter
+noticed that whenever he left any gap in his story, the district attorney
+and the deputy told him to fill it, and he managed to guess what to fill
+it with.
+</p>
+<p>
+Henry Clay Burchard came from the far South, and followed a style of
+oratory long since gone out of date. He wore his heavy black hair a little
+long, and when he mounted the platform he would pull out the tremulo stop,
+stretching out his hands and saying in tones of quivering emotion: &ldquo;The
+ladies, God bless them!&rdquo; Also he would say: &ldquo;I am a friend of the common
+man. My heart beats with sympathy for those who constitute the real
+backbone of America, the toilers of the shop and farm.&rdquo; And then all the
+banqueters of the Chamber of Commerce and the Merchants&rsquo; and
+Manufacturers&rsquo; Association would applaud, and would send their checks to
+the campaign fund of this friend of the common man. Mr. Burchard&rsquo;s deputy,
+Mr. Stannard, was a legal fox who told his chief what to do and how to do
+it; a dried-up little man who looked like a bookworm, and sat boring you
+thru with his keen eyes, watching for your weak points and preparing to
+pierce you thru with one of his legal rapiers. He would be quite friendly
+about it&mdash;he would joke with you in the noon hour, assuming that you
+would of course understand it was all in the line of business, and no harm
+meant.
+</p>
+<p>
+<br /><br />
+</p>
+<hr />
+<p>
+<a name="link2H_4_0075" id="link2H_4_0075"> </a>
+</p>
+<div style="height: 4em;">
+<br /><br /><br /><br />
+</div>
+<h2>
+Section 75
+</h2>
+<p>
+The two men heard Peter&rsquo;s story and changed it a little, and then heard
+him over again and pronounced him all right, and Peter went back to his
+hotel room and waited in trepidation for his hour in the limelight. When
+they took him to court his knees were shaking, but also he had a thrill of
+real importance, for they had provided him with a body-guard of four big
+huskies; also he saw two &ldquo;bulls&rdquo; whom he recognized in the hallway outside
+the court-room, and many others scattered thru the audience. The place was
+packed with Red sympathizers, but they had all been searched before they
+were allowed to enter, and were being watched every moment during the
+trial.
+</p>
+<p>
+When Peter stepped into the witness box he felt as Tom Duggan and Donald
+Gordon must have felt that night when the white glare from thirty or forty
+automobiles was beating upon them. Peter felt the concentrated Red hate of
+two or three hundred spectators, and now and then their pent-up fury would
+break restraint; there would be a murmur of protest, or perhaps a wave of
+sneering laughter, and the bailiff would bang on the table with his wooden
+mallet, and the judge would half rise from his seat, and declare that if
+that happened again he would order the court-room cleared.
+</p>
+<p>
+Not far in front of Peter at a long table sat the seventeen defendants,
+looking like trapped rats, and every one of their thirty-four rat eyes
+were fixed upon Peter&rsquo;s face, and never moved from it. Peter only glanced
+that way once; they bared their rats&rsquo; teeth at him, and he quickly looked
+in another direction. But there also he saw a face that brought him no
+comfort; there sat Mrs. Godd, in her immaculate white chiffons, her
+wide-open blue eyes fixed upon his face, her expression full of grief and
+reproach. &ldquo;Oh, Mr. Gudge!&rdquo; she seemed to be saying. &ldquo;How can you? Mr.
+Gudge, is this Peace. . . justice. . . Truth. . . Law?&rdquo; And Peter realized
+with a pang that he had cut himself off forever from Mount Olympus, and
+from the porch chair with the soft silken pillows! He turned away toward
+the box where sat the twelve jurymen and women. One old lady gave him a
+benevolent smile, and a young farmer gave him a sly wink, so Peter knew
+that he had friends in that quarter&mdash;and after all, they were the
+ones who really counted in this trial. Mrs. Godd was as helpless as any
+&ldquo;wobbly,&rdquo; in the presence of this august court.
+</p>
+<p>
+Peter told his story, and then came his cross-questioning, and who should
+rise and start the job but David Andrews, suave and humorous and deadly.
+Peter had always been afraid of Andrews, and now he winced. Nobody had
+told him he was to face an ordeal like this! Nobody had told him that
+Andrews would be allowed to question him about every detail of these
+crimes which he said he had witnessed, and about all the conversations
+that had taken place, and who else was present, and what else had been
+said, and how he had come to be there, and what he had done afterwards,
+and what he had had to eat for breakfast that morning. Only two things
+saved Peter, first the constant rapid-fire of objections which Stannard
+kept making, to give Peter time to think; and second, the cyclone-cellar
+which Stannard had provided for him in advance. &ldquo;You can always fail to
+remember,&rdquo; the deputy had said; &ldquo;nobody can punish you for forgetting
+something.&rdquo; So Peter would repeat the minute details of a conversation in
+which Alf Guinness had told of burning down the barn, but he didn&rsquo;t
+remember who else had heard the conversation, and he didn&rsquo;t remember what
+else had been said, nor what was the date of the conversation.
+</p>
+<p>
+Then came the blessed hour of noon, with a chance for Peter to get fixed
+up again before the court resumed at two. He was questioned again by
+Stannard, who patched up all the gaps in his testimony, and then again he
+failed to remember things, and so avoided the traps which Andrews set for
+his feet. He was told that he had &ldquo;done fine,&rdquo; and was escorted back to
+the Hotel de Soto in triumph, and there for a week he stayed while the
+defense made a feeble effort to answer his testimony. Peter read in the
+papers the long speeches in which the district attorney and the deputy
+acclaimed him as a patriot, protecting his country from its &ldquo;enemies
+within;&rdquo; also he read a brief reference to the &ldquo;tirade&rdquo; of David Andrews,
+who had called him a &ldquo;rat&rdquo; and a &ldquo;slinking Judas.&rdquo; Peter didn&rsquo;t mind that,
+of course&mdash;it was all part of the game, and the calling of names is a
+pretty sure sign of impotence.
+</p>
+<p>
+Less easy to accept placidly, however, was something which came to Peter
+that same day&mdash;a letter from Mrs. Godd! It wasn&rsquo;t written to him, but
+he saw Hammett and another of the &ldquo;bulls&rdquo; chuckling together, and he asked
+what was the joke, and they told him that Mrs. Godd had somehow found out
+about Guffey, and had written him a letter full of insults, and Guffey was
+furious. Peter asked what was in it, and they told him, and later on when
+he insisted, they brought it and showed it to him, and Peter was furious
+too. On very expensive stationery with a stately crest at the top, the
+mother of Mount Olympus had written in a large, bland, girlish hand her
+opinion of &ldquo;under cover&rdquo; men and those who hired them:
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;You sit like a big spider and weave a net to catch men and destroy them.
+You destroy alike your victims and your tools. The poor boy, Peter Gudge,
+whom you sent to my home&mdash;my heart bleeds when I think of him, and
+what you have put him up to! A wretched, feeble-minded victim of greed,
+who ought to be sent to a hospital for deformed souls, you have taken him
+and taught him a piece of villainy to recite, so that he may send a group
+of sincere idealists to prison.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+That was enough! Peter put down the letter&mdash;he would not dignify such
+stuff by reading it. He realized that he would have to put his mind on the
+problem of Mrs. Godd once more. One woman like that, in her position of
+power, was more dangerous than all the seventeen &ldquo;wobblies&rdquo; who had been
+haled before the court. Peter inquired, and learned that Guffey had
+already been to see Nelse Ackerman about it, and Mr. Ackerman had been to
+see Mr. Godd, and Mr. Godd had been to see Mrs. Godd. Also the &ldquo;Times&rdquo; had
+an editorial referring to the &ldquo;nest of Bolshevism&rdquo; upon Mount Olympus, and
+all Mrs. Godd&rsquo;s friends were staying away from her luncheon-parties&mdash;so
+she was being made to suffer for her insolence to Peter Gudge!
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;A hospital for deformed souls,&rdquo; indeed! Peter was so upset that his joy
+in life was not restored even by the news that the jury had found the
+defendants guilty on the first ballot. He told McGivney that the strain of
+this trial had been too much for his nerves, and they must take care of
+him; so an automobile was provided, and Peter was taken to a secret hiding
+place in the country to recuperate.
+</p>
+<p>
+Hammett went with him, and Hammett was a first-class gunman, and Peter
+stayed close by him; in the evening he stayed up in the second story of
+the farm-house, lest perchance one of the &ldquo;wobblies&rdquo; should take too
+literally the testimony Peter had given concerning their habit of shooting
+at their enemies out of the darkness. Peter knew how they all must hate
+him; he read in the paper how the judge summoned the guilty men before him
+and sentenced them, incidentally forcing them to listen to a scathing
+address, which was published in full in the &ldquo;Times.&rdquo; The law provided a
+penalty of from one to fourteen years, and the judge sentenced sixteen of
+them to fourteen years, and one to ten years, thus tempering justice with
+mercy.
+</p>
+<p>
+Then one day McGivney sent an automobile, and Peter was brought to
+Guffey&rsquo;s office, and a new plan was unfolded to him. They had arrested
+another bunch of &ldquo;wobblies&rdquo; in the neighboring city of Eldorado, and Peter
+was wanted there to repeat his testimony. It happened that he knew one of
+the accused men, and that would be sufficient to get his testimony in&mdash;his
+prize stuff about the burning barns and the phosphorus bombs. He would be
+taken care of just as thoroughly by the district attorney&rsquo;s office of
+Eldorado County; or better yet, Guffey would write to his friend Steve
+Ellman, who did the detective work for the Home and Fireside Association,
+the big business organization of that city.
+</p>
+<p>
+Peter hemmed and hawed. This was a pretty hard and dangerous kind of work,
+it really played the devil with a man&rsquo;s nerves, sitting up there in the
+hotel room all day, with nothing to do but smoke cigarettes and imagine
+the &ldquo;wobblies&rdquo; throwing bombs at you. Also, it wouldn&rsquo;t last very long; it
+ought to be better paid. Guffey answered that Peter needn&rsquo;t worry about
+the job&rsquo;s lasting; if he cared to give this testimony, he might have a joy
+ride from one end of the country to the other, and everywhere he would
+live on the fat of the land, and be a hero in the newspapers.
+</p>
+<p>
+But still Peter hemmed and hawed. He had learned from the American City
+&ldquo;Times&rdquo; how valuable a witness he was, and he ventured to demand his
+price, even from the terrible Guffey; he stuck it out, in spite of
+Guffey&rsquo;s frowns, and the upshot was that Guffey said, All right, if Peter
+would take the trip he might have seventy-five dollars a week and
+expenses, and Guffey would guarantee to keep him busy for not less than
+six months.
+</p>
+<p>
+<br /><br />
+</p>
+<hr />
+<p>
+<a name="link2H_4_0076" id="link2H_4_0076"> </a>
+</p>
+<div style="height: 4em;">
+<br /><br /><br /><br />
+</div>
+<h2>
+Section 76
+</h2>
+<p>
+So Peter went to Eldorado, and helped to send eleven men to the
+penitentiary for periods varying from three to fourteen years. Then he
+went to Flagland, and testified in three different trials, and added seven
+more scalps to his belt. By this time he got to realize that the worst the
+Reds could do was to make faces at him and show the teeth of trapped rats.
+He learned to take his profession more easily, and would sometimes venture
+to go out for an evening&rsquo;s pleasure without his guards. When he was hidden
+in the country he would take long walks regardless of the thousands of
+blood-thirsty Reds on his trail.
+</p>
+<p>
+It was while Peter was testifying in Flagland that a magic word was
+flashed from Europe, and the whole city went mad with joy. Everyone, from
+babies to old men, turned out on the streets and waved flags and banged
+tin cans and shouted for peace with victory. When it was learned that the
+newspapers had fooled them, they waited three days, and then turned out
+and went thru the same performance again. Peter was a bit worried at
+first, for fear the coming of peace might end his job of saving the
+country; but presently he realized that there was no need for concern, the
+smashing of the Reds was going on just the same.
+</p>
+<p>
+They had some raids on the Socialists while Peter was in Flagland, and the
+detectives told him he might come along for the fun of it. So Peter armed
+himself with a black-jack and a revolver, and helped to rush the Socialist
+headquarters. The war was over, but Peter felt just as military as if it
+were still going on; when he got the little Jewish organizer of the local
+pent up in a corner behind his desk and proceeded to crack him over the
+head, Peter understood exactly how our boys had felt in the Argonne. When
+he discovered the thrill of dancing on typewriter keys with his boots, he
+even understood how the Huns had felt.
+</p>
+<p>
+The detectives were joined by a bunch of college boys, who took to that
+kind of thing with glee. Having got their blood up, they decided they
+might as well clean out the Red movement entirely, so they rushed a place
+called the &ldquo;International Book-Shop,&rdquo; kept by a Hawaiian. The proprietor
+dodged into the kitchen of a Chinese restaurant next door, and put on an
+apron; but no one had ever seen a Chinaman with a black mustache, so they
+fell on him and broke several of the Chinaman&rsquo;s sauce-pans over his head.
+They took the contents of the &ldquo;International Book-Shop&rdquo; into the back yard
+and started a bon-fire with it, and detectives and college boys on a lark
+joined hands and danced an imitation of the Hawaiian hula-hula around the
+blaze.
+</p>
+<p>
+So Peter lived a merry life for several months. He had one or two journeys
+for nothing, because an obstinate judge refused to admit that anything
+that any I. W. W. had ever said or done anywhere within the last ten years
+was proper testimony to be introduced against a particular I. W. W. on
+trial. But most judges were willing to co-operate with the big business
+men in ridding the country of the Red menace, and Peter&rsquo;s total of scalps
+amounted to over a hundred before his time was up, and Guffey sent him his
+last cheek and turned him loose.
+</p>
+<p>
+That was in the city of Richport, and Peter having in an inside pocket
+something over a thousand dollars in savings, felt that he had earned a
+good time. He went for a stroll on the Gay White Way of the city, and in
+front of a moving picture palace a golden-haired girl smiled at him. This
+was still in the days of two and three-fourths per cent beer, and Peter
+invited her into a saloon to have a glass, and when he opened his eyes
+again it was dark, and he had a splitting headache, and he groped around
+and discovered that he was lying in a dark corner of an alleyway. Terror
+gripped his heart, and he clapped his hand to the inside pocket where his
+wallet had been, and there was nothing but horrible emptiness. So Peter
+was ruined once again, and as usual it was a woman that had done it!
+</p>
+<p>
+Peter went to the police-station, but they never found the woman, or if
+they did, they divided with her and not with Peter. He threw himself on
+the mercy of the sergeant at the desk, and succeeded in convincing the
+sergeant that he, Peter, was a part of the machinery of his country&rsquo;s
+defense, and the sergeant agreed to stand sponsor for ten words to Guffey.
+So Peter sat himself down with a pencil and paper, and figured over it,
+and managed to get it into ten words, as follows: &ldquo;Woman again broke any
+old job any pay wire fare.&rdquo; And it appeared that Guffey must have sat
+himself down with a pencil and paper and figured over it also, for the
+answer came back in ten words, as follows: &ldquo;Idiot have wired secretary
+chamber commerce will give you ticket.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+So Peter repaired forthwith to the stately offices of the Chamber of
+Commerce, and the hustling, efficient young business-man secretary sent
+his clerk to buy Peter a ticket and put him on the train. In a time of
+need like that Peter realized what it meant to have the backing of a great
+and powerful organization, with stately offices and money on hand for all
+emergencies, even when they arose by telegraph. He took a new vow of
+sobriety and decency, so that he might always have these forces of law and
+order on his side.
+</p>
+<p>
+<br /><br />
+</p>
+<hr />
+<p>
+<a name="link2H_4_0077" id="link2H_4_0077"> </a>
+</p>
+<div style="height: 4em;">
+<br /><br /><br /><br />
+</div>
+<h2>
+Section 77
+</h2>
+<p>
+Peter was duly scolded, and put to work as an &ldquo;office man&rdquo; at his old
+salary of twenty dollars a week. It was his duty to consult with Guffey&rsquo;s
+many &ldquo;operatives,&rdquo; to tell them everything he knew about this individual
+Red or that organization of Reds. He would use his inside knowledge of
+personalities and doctrines and movements to help in framing up testimony,
+and in setting traps for too ardent agitators. He could no longer pose as
+a Red himself, but sometimes there were cases where he could do detective
+work without being recognized; when, for example, there was a question of
+fixing a juror, or of investigating the members of a panel.
+</p>
+<p>
+The I. W. Ws. had been put out of business in American City, but the
+Socialists were still active, in spite of prosecutions and convictions.
+Also there was a new peril looming up; the returned soldiers were coming
+back, and a lot of them were dissatisfied, presuming to complain of their
+treatment in the army, and of the lack of good jobs at home, and even of
+the peace treaty which the President was arranging in Paris. They had
+fought to make the world safe for democracy, and here, they said, it had
+been made safe for the profiteers. This was plain Bolshevism, and in its
+most dangerous form, because these fellows had learned to use guns, and
+couldn&rsquo;t very well be expected to become pacifists right off the bat.
+</p>
+<p>
+There had been a great labor shortage during the war, and some of the more
+powerful unions had taken the general rise in prices as an excuse for
+demanding higher wages. This naturally had made the members of the Chamber
+of Commerce and the Merchants&rsquo; and Manufacturers&rsquo; Association indignant,
+and now they saw their chance to use these returned soldiers to smash
+strikes and to break the organizations of the labor men. They proceeded to
+organize the soldiers for this purpose; in American City the Chamber of
+Commerce contributed twenty-five thousand dollars to furnish the
+club-rooms for them, and when the trolley men went on strike the cars were
+run by returned soldiers in uniform.
+</p>
+<p>
+There was one veteran, a fellow by the name of Sydney, who objected to
+this program. He was publishing a paper, the &ldquo;Veteran&rsquo;s Friend,&rdquo; and began
+to use the paper to protest against his comrades acting as what he called
+&ldquo;scabs.&rdquo; The secretary of the Merchants&rsquo; and Manufacturers&rsquo; Association
+sent for him and gave him a straight talking to, but he went right ahead
+with his campaign, and so Guffey&rsquo;s office was assigned the task of
+shutting him up. Peter, while he could not take an active part in the job,
+was the one who guided it behind the scenes. They proceeded to plant spies
+in Sydney&rsquo;s office, and they had so many that it was really a joke; they
+used to laugh and say that they trod on one another&rsquo;s toes. Sydney was
+poor, and had not enough money to run his paper, so he accepted any
+volunteer labor that came along. And Guffey sent him plenty of volunteers&mdash;no
+less than seven operatives&mdash;one keeping Sydney&rsquo;s books, another
+helping with his mailing, two more helping to raise funds among the labor
+unions, others dropping in every day or two to advise him. Nevertheless
+Sydney went right ahead with his program of denouncing the Merchants&rsquo; and
+Manufacturers&rsquo; Association, and denouncing the government for its failure
+to provide farms and jobs for the veterans.
+</p>
+<p>
+One of Guffey&rsquo;s &ldquo;under cover operatives&rdquo;&mdash;that was the technical term
+for the Peter Gudges and Joe Angells&mdash;was a man by the name of Jonas.
+This Jonas called himself a &ldquo;philosophic anarchist,&rdquo; and posed as the
+reddest Red in American City; it was his habit to rise up in radical
+meetings and question the speaker, and try to tempt him to justify
+violence and insurrection and &ldquo;mass-action.&rdquo; If he repudiated these ideas,
+then Jonas would denounce him as a &ldquo;mollycoddle,&rdquo; a &ldquo;pink tea Socialist,&rdquo;
+ a &ldquo;labor faker.&rdquo; Other people in the audience would applaud, and so
+Guffey&rsquo;s men would find out who were the real Red sympathizers.
+</p>
+<p>
+Peter had long suspected Jonas, and now he was sent to meet him in Room
+427 of the American House, and together they framed up a job on Sydney.
+Jonas wrote a letter, supposed to come from a German &ldquo;comrade,&rdquo; giving the
+names of some papers in Europe to which the editor should send sample
+copies of his magazine. This letter was mailed to Sydney, and next morning
+Jonas wandered into the office, and Sydney showed him the letter, and
+Jonas told him that these were labor papers, and the editors would no
+doubt be interested to know of the feelings of American soldiers since the
+war. Sydney sat down to write a letter, and Jonas stood by his side and
+told him what to write: &ldquo;To my erstwhile enemies in arms I send fraternal
+greetings, and welcome you as brothers in the new co-operative
+commonwealth which is to be&rdquo;&mdash;and so on, the usual Internationalist
+patter, which all these agitators were spouting day and night, and which
+ran off the ends of their pens automatically. Sydney mailed these letters,
+and the sample copies of the magazine, and Guffey&rsquo;s office tipped off the
+postoffice authorities, who held up the letters. The book-keeper, one of
+Guffey&rsquo;s operatives, went to the Federal attorney and made affidavit that
+Sydney had been carrying on a conspiracy with the enemy in war-time, and a
+warrant was issued, and the offices of the magazine were raided, the
+subscription-lists confiscated, and everything in the rooms dumped out
+into the middle of the floor.
+</p>
+<p>
+So there was a little job all Peter&rsquo;s own; except that Jonas, the
+scoundrel, claimed it for his, and tried to deprive Peter of the credit!
+So Peter was glad when the Federal authorities looked the case over and
+said it was a bum job, and they wouldn&rsquo;t monkey with it. However, the
+evidence was turned over to District-attorney Burchard, who wasn&rsquo;t quite
+so fastidious, and his agents made another raid, and smashed up the office
+again, and threw the returned soldier into jail. The judge fixed the bail
+at fifteen thousand dollars, and the American City &ldquo;Times&rdquo; published the
+story with scare-headlines all the way across the front page&mdash;how the
+editor of the &ldquo;Veteran&rsquo;s Friend&rdquo; had been caught conspiring with the
+enemy, and here was a photographic copy of his treasonable letter, and a
+copy of the letter of the mysterious German conspirator with whom he had
+been in relations! They spent more than a year trying that editor, and
+although he was out on bail, Guffey saw to it that he could not get a job
+anywhere in American City; his paper was smashed and his family near to
+starvation.
+</p>
+<p>
+<br /><br />
+</p>
+<hr />
+<p>
+<a name="link2H_4_0078" id="link2H_4_0078"> </a>
+</p>
+<div style="height: 4em;">
+<br /><br /><br /><br />
+</div>
+<h2>
+Section 78
+</h2>
+<p>
+Peter had now been working faithfully for six or eight months, and all
+that time he religiously carried out his promise to Guffey and did not
+wink at a woman. But that is an unnatural life for a man, and Peter was
+lonely, his dreams were haunted by the faces of Nell Doolin and Rosie
+Stern, and even of little Jennie Todd. One day another face came back to
+him, the face of Miss Frisbie, the little manicurist who had spurned him
+because he was a Red. Now suddenly Peter realized that he was no longer a
+Red! On the contrary, he was a hero, his picture had been published in the
+American City &ldquo;Times,&rdquo; and no doubt Miss Frisbie had seen it. Miss Frisbie
+was a good girl, a straight girl, and surely all right for him to know!
+</p>
+<p>
+So Peter went to the manicure parlor, and sure enough, there was the
+little golden-haired lady; and sure enough, she had read all about him,
+she had been dreaming that some day she might meet him again&mdash;and so
+Peter invited her to go to a picture show. On the way home they became
+very chummy, and before a week went by it was as if they had been friends
+for life. When Peter asked Miss Frisbie if he might kiss her, she answered
+coyly that he might, but after he had kissed her a few times she explained
+to him that she was a self-supporting woman, alone and defenseless in the
+world, and she had nobody to speak for her but herself; she must tell him
+that she had always been a respectable woman, and that she wanted him to
+know that before he kissed her any more. And Peter thought it over and
+decided that he had sowed his full share of wild oats in this life; he was
+ready to settle down, and the next time he saw Miss Frisbie he told her
+so, and before the evening was by they were engaged.
+</p>
+<p>
+Then Peter went to see Guffey, and seated himself on the edge of the chair
+alongside Guffey&rsquo;s desk, and twisted his hat in his hands, and flushed
+very red, and began to stammer out his confession. He expected to be
+received with a gale of ridicule; he was immensely relieved when Guffey
+said that if Peter had really found a good girl and wanted to marry her,
+he, Guffey, was for it. There was nothing like the influence of a good
+woman, and Guffey much preferred his operatives should be married men,
+living a settled and respectable life. They could be trusted then, and
+sometimes when a woman operative was needed, they had a partner ready to
+hand. If Peter had got married long ago, he might have had a good sum of
+money in the bank by now.
+</p>
+<p>
+Peter ventured to point out that twenty dollars a week was not exactly a
+marrying salary, in the face of the present high cost of living. Guffey
+answered that that was true, and he would raise Peter to thirty dollars
+right away&mdash;only first he demanded the right to talk to Peter&rsquo;s
+fiancee, and judge for himself whether she was worthy. Peter was
+delighted, and Miss Frisbie had a private and confidential interview with
+Peter&rsquo;s boss. But afterwards Peter wasn&rsquo;t quite so delighted, for he
+realized what Guffey had done. Peter&rsquo;s future wife had been told all about
+Peter&rsquo;s weakness, and how Peter&rsquo;s boss looked to her to take care of her
+husband and make him walk the chalkline. So a week after Peter had entered
+the holy bonds of matrimony, when he and Mrs. Gudge had their first little
+family tiff, Peter suddenly discovered who was going to be top dog in that
+family. He was shown his place once for all, and he took it,&mdash;alongside
+that husband who described his domestic arrangements by saying that he and
+his wife got along beautifully together, they had come to an arrangement
+by which he was to have his way on all major issues, and she was to have
+her way on all minor issues, and so far no major issues had arisen.
+</p>
+<p>
+But really it was a very good thing; for Gladys Frisbie Gudge was an
+excellent manager, and set to work making herself a nest as busily as any
+female beaver. She still hung on to her manicurist job, for she had
+figured it out that the Red movement must be just about destroyed by now,
+and pretty soon Peter might find himself without work. In the evenings she
+took to house-hunting, and during her noon hour, without consulting Peter
+she selected the furniture and the wall-paper, and pretty nearly bought
+out the stock of a five-and-ten-cent store to equip the beaver&rsquo;s nest.
+</p>
+<p>
+Gladys Frisbie Gudge was a diligent reader of the fashion magazines, and
+kept herself right up to the minute with the styles; also she had got
+herself a book on etiquette, and learned it by heart from cover to cover,
+and now she took Peter in hand and taught it to him. Why must he always be
+a &ldquo;Jimmie Higgins&rdquo; of the &ldquo;Whites?&rdquo; Why should he not acquire the
+vocabulary of an educated man, the arts and graces of the well-to-do?
+Gladys knew that it is these subtleties which determine your salary in the
+long run; so every Sunday morning she would dress him up with a new brown
+derby and a new pair of brown kid gloves, and take him to the Church of
+the Divine Compassion, and they would listen to the patriotic sermon of
+the Rev. de Willoughby Stotterbridge, and Gladys would bow her head in
+prayer, and out of the corner of her eye would get points on costumes from
+the lady in the next pew. And afterwards they would join the Sunday
+parade, and Gladys would point out to Peter the marks of what she called
+&ldquo;gentility.&rdquo; In the evenings they would go walking, and she would stop in
+front of the big shop-windows, or take him into the hotel lobbies where
+the rich could be seen free of charge. Peter would be hungry, and would
+want to go to a cheap restaurant and fill himself up with honest grub; but
+Gladys, who had the appetite of a bird, would insist on marching him into
+the dining-room of the Hotel de Soto and making a meal upon a cup of broth
+and some bread and butter&mdash;just in order that they might gaze upon a
+scene of elegance and see bow &ldquo;genteel&rdquo; people ate their food.
+</p>
+<p>
+<br /><br />
+</p>
+<hr />
+<p>
+<a name="link2H_4_0079" id="link2H_4_0079"> </a>
+</p>
+<div style="height: 4em;">
+<br /><br /><br /><br />
+</div>
+<h2>
+Section 79
+</h2>
+<p>
+And just as ardently as Gladys Frisbie Gudge adored the rich, so ardently
+did she object to the poor. If you pinned her down to it, she would admit
+that there had to be poor; there could not be gentility, except on the
+basis of a large class of ungentility. The poor were all right in their
+place; what Gladys objected to was their presuming to try to get out of
+their place, or to criticise their betters. She had a word by which she
+summed up everything that she despised in the world, and that word was
+&ldquo;common;&rdquo; she used it to describe the sort of people she declined to meet,
+and she used it in correcting Peter&rsquo;s manners and his taste in hats. To be
+&ldquo;common&rdquo; was to be damned; and when Gladys saw people who were indubitably
+and inescapably &ldquo;common,&rdquo; presuming to set themselves up and form
+standards of their own, she took it as a personal affront, she became
+vindictive and implacable towards them. Each and every one of them became
+to her a personal enemy, an enemy to something far more precious than her
+person, an enemy to the thing she aspired to become, to her ideal.
+</p>
+<p>
+Peter had once been like that himself, but now he was so comfortable, he
+had a tendency to become lazy and easy-going. It was well, therefore, that
+he had Gladys to jack him up, and keep him on his job. Gladys at first did
+not meet any Reds face to face, she knew them only by the stories that
+Peter brought home to her when his day&rsquo;s work was done. But each new group
+that he was hounding became to Gladys an assemblage of incarnate fiends,
+and while she sat polishing the finger-nails of stout society ladies who
+were too sleepy to talk, Gladys&rsquo; busy mind would be working over schemes
+to foil these fiends.
+</p>
+<p>
+Sometimes her ideas were quite wonderful. She had a woman&rsquo;s intuition, the
+knowledge of human foibles, all the intricate subtleties of the emotional
+life; she would bring to Peter a program for the undoing of some young
+radical, as complete as if she had known the man or woman all her life.
+Peter took her ideas to McGivney, and then to Guffey, and the result was
+that her talents were recognized, and by the lever of a generous salary
+she was pried loose from the manicure parlor. Guffey sent her to make the
+acquaintance of the servants in the household of a certain rich man who
+was continually making contributions to the Direct Primary Association and
+other semi-Red organizations, and who was believed to have a scandal in
+his private life. So successful was Gladys at this job that presently
+Guffey set her at the still more delicate task of visiting rich ladies,
+and impressing upon them the seriousness of the Red peril, and persuading
+them to meet the continually increasing expenses of Guffey&rsquo;s office.
+</p>
+<p>
+Just now was a busy time in the anti-Red campaign. For nearly two years,
+ever since the Bolshevik revolution in Russia, there had been gradually
+developing a split in the Socialist movement, and the &ldquo;under-cover&rdquo;
+ operatives of the Traction Trust, as well as those of the district
+attorney&rsquo;s office and of the Federal government, had been working
+diligently to widen this split and develop dissensions in the
+organization. There were some Socialists who believed in politics, and
+were prepared to devote their lives to the slow and tedious job of
+building up a party. There were others who were impatient, looking for a
+short cut, a general strike or a mass insurrection of the workers which
+would put an end to the slavery of capitalism. The whole game of politics
+was rotten, these would argue; a politician could find more ways to fool
+the workers in a minute than the workers could thwart in a year. They
+pointed to the German Socialists, those betrayers of internationalism.
+There were people who called themselves Socialists right here in American
+City who wanted to draw the movement into the same kind of trap!
+</p>
+<p>
+This debate was not conducted in the realm of abstractions; the two wings
+of the movement would attack one another with bitterness. The
+&ldquo;politicians&rdquo; would denounce the &ldquo;impossibilists,&rdquo; calling them
+&ldquo;anarchists;&rdquo; and the other side, thus goaded, would accuse their enemies
+of being in the hire of the government. Peter would supply McGivney with
+bits of scandal which the &ldquo;under cover&rdquo; men would start going among the
+&ldquo;left-wingers;&rdquo; and in the course of the long wrangles in the local these
+accusations would come out. Herbert Ashton would mention them with his
+biting sarcasm, or &ldquo;Shorty&rdquo; Gunton would shout them in one of his tirades&mdash;&ldquo;hurling
+them into his opponents teeth,&rdquo; as he phrased it.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Shorty&rdquo; Gunton was a tramp printer, a wandering agitator who was all for
+direct action, and didn&rsquo;t care a hang who knew it. &ldquo;Violence?&rdquo; he would
+say. &ldquo;How many thousand years shall we submit to the violence of
+capitalist governments, and never have the right to reply?&rdquo; And then again
+he would say, &ldquo;Violence? Yes, of course we must repudiate violence&mdash;until
+we get enough of it!&rdquo; Peter had listened to &ldquo;Shorty&rsquo;s&rdquo; railings at the
+&ldquo;compromisers&rdquo; and the &ldquo;political traders,&rdquo; and had thought him one of the
+most dangerous men in American City. But later on, after the episode of
+Joe Angell had opened Peter&rsquo;s eyes, he decided that &ldquo;Shorty&rdquo; must also be
+a secret agent like himself.
+</p>
+<p>
+Peter was never told definitely, but he picked up a fact here and there,
+and fitted them together, and before long his suspicion had become
+certainty. The &ldquo;left wing&rdquo; Socialists split off from the party, and called
+a convention of their own, and this convention in turn split up, one part
+forming the Communist Party, and another part forming the Communist Labor
+Party. While these two conventions were in session, McGivney came to
+Peter, and said that the Federal government had a man on the platform
+committee of the Communist Party, and they wanted to write in some phrases
+that would make membership in that party in itself a crime, so that
+everybody who held a membership card could be sent to prison without
+further evidence. These phrases must be in the orthodox Communist lingo,
+and this was where Peter&rsquo;s specialized knowledge was needed.
+</p>
+<p>
+So Peter wrote the phrases, and a couple of days later he read in the
+newspapers an account of the convention proceedings. The platform
+committee had reported, and &ldquo;Shorty&rdquo; Gunton had submitted a minority
+report, and had made a fiery speech in the convention, with the result
+that his minority report was carried by a narrow margin. This minority
+report contained all the phrases that Peter had written. A couple of
+months later, when the government had its case ready, and the wholesale
+raids upon the Communists took place, &ldquo;Shorty&rdquo; Gunton was arrested, but a
+few days later he made a dramatic escape by sawing his way thru the roof
+of the jail!
+</p>
+<p>
+<br /><br />
+</p>
+<hr />
+<p>
+<a name="link2H_4_0080" id="link2H_4_0080"> </a>
+</p>
+<div style="height: 4em;">
+<br /><br /><br /><br />
+</div>
+<h2>
+Section 80
+</h2>
+<p>
+The I. W. W. had bobbed up again in American City, and had ventured to
+open another headquarters. Peter did not dare go to the place himself, but
+he coached a couple of young fellows whom McGivney brought to him,
+teaching them the Red lingo, and how to worm their way into the movement.
+Before long one of them was secretary of the local; and Peter, directing
+their activities, received reports twice a week of everything the
+&ldquo;wobblies&rdquo; were planning and doing. Peter and Gladys were figuring out
+another bomb conspiracy to direct attention to these dangerous men, when
+one day Peter picked up the morning paper and discovered that a kind
+Providence had delivered the enemy into his hands.
+</p>
+<p>
+Up in the lumber country of the far Northwest, in a little town called
+Centralia, the &ldquo;wobblies&rdquo; had had their headquarters raided and smashed,
+just as in American City. They had got themselves another meeting-place,
+and again the members of the Chamber of Commerce and the Merchants&rsquo; and
+Manufacturers&rsquo; Association had held a secret meeting and resolved to wipe
+them out. The &ldquo;wobblies&rdquo; had appealed to the authorities for protection,
+and when protection was refused, they had printed a leaflet appealing to
+the public. But the business men went ahead with their plans. They
+arranged for a parade of returned soldiers on the anniversary of Armistice
+Day, and they diverted this parade out of its path so that it would pass
+in front of the I. W. W. headquarters. Some of the more ardent members
+carried ropes, symbolic of what they meant to do; and they brought the
+parade to a halt in front of the headquarters, and set up a yell and
+started to rush the hall. They battered in the door, and had pushed their
+way half thru it when the &ldquo;wobblies&rdquo; opened fire from inside, killing
+several of the paraders.
+</p>
+<p>
+Then, of course, the mob flew into a frenzy of fury. They beat the men in
+the hall, some of them into insensibility; they flung them into jail, and
+battered and tortured them, and took one of them out of jail and carried
+him away in an automobile, and after they had mutilated him as Shawn Grady
+had been mutilated, they hanged him from a bridge. Of course they saw to
+it that the newspaper stories which went out from Centralia that night
+were the right kind of stories; and next morning all America read how a
+group of &ldquo;wobblies&rdquo; had armed themselves with rifles, and concealed
+themselves on the roof of the I. W. W. headquarters, and deliberately and
+in cold blood had opened fire upon a peaceful parade of unarmed war
+veterans.
+</p>
+<p>
+Of course the country went wild, and the Guffeys and McGivneys and Gudges
+all over the United States realized that their chance had come. Peter
+instructed the secretary of the I. W. W. local of American City to call a
+meeting for that evening, to adopt a resolution declaring the press
+stories from Centralia to be lies. At the same time another of Guffey&rsquo;s
+men, an ex-army officer still wearing his, uniform, caused a meeting of
+the American Legion to be summoned; he made a furious address to the boys,
+and at nine o&rsquo;clock that night some two-score of them set out, armed with
+big monkey-wrenches from their automobiles, and raided the I. W. W.
+headquarters, and battered the members over the head with the
+monkey-wrenches, causing several to leap from the window and break their
+legs. Next morning the incident was reported in the American City &ldquo;Times&rdquo;
+ with shouts of glee, and District-attorney Burchard issued a public
+statement to the effect that no effort would be made to punish the soldier
+boys; the &ldquo;wobblies&rdquo; had wanted &ldquo;direct action,&rdquo; and they had got it, and
+it would be assumed that they were satisfied.
+</p>
+<p>
+Then the members of the American Legion, encouraged by this applause, and
+instigated by Guffey&rsquo;s ex-army officer, proceeded to invade and wreck
+every radical meeting-place in the city. They smashed the &ldquo;Clarion&rdquo; office
+and the Socialist Party headquarters again, and confiscated more tons of
+literature. They wrecked a couple of book-stores, and then, breaking up
+into small groups, they inspected all the news-stands in the city, and
+wherever they found Red magazines like the Nation or the New Republic,
+they tore up the copies and threatened the agents with arrest. They
+invaded the rooms of a literary society called the Ruskin Club, frequented
+mostly by amiable old ladies, and sent some of these elderly dames into
+hysterics. They discovered the &ldquo;Russian Peoples&rsquo; Club,&rdquo; which had hitherto
+been overlooked because it was an educational organization. But of course
+no Russian could be trusted these days&mdash;all of them were Bolsheviks,
+or on the way to becoming Bolsheviks, which was the same thing; so Guffey
+organized a raid on this building, and some two hundred Russians were
+clubbed and thrown downstairs or out of windows, and an elderly teacher of
+mathematics had his skull cracked, and a teacher of music had some teeth
+knocked out.
+</p>
+<p>
+There were several million young Americans who had been put into military
+uniform, and had guns put into their hands, and been put thru target
+practice and bayonet drill, and then had not seen any fighting. These
+fellows were, as the phrase has it, &ldquo;spoiling for a fight;&rdquo; and here was
+their chance. It was just as much fun as trench warfare, and had the
+advantage of not being dangerous. When the raiding parties came back,
+there were no missing members, and no casualties to be telegraphed to
+heartbroken parents. Some fool women got together and tried to organize a
+procession to protest against the blockade of Russia; the raiders fell
+upon these women, and wrecked their banners, and tore their clothing to
+bits, and the police hustled what was left of them off to jail. It
+happened that a well-known &ldquo;sporting man,&rdquo; that is to say a race-track
+frequenter, came along wearing a red necktie, and the raiders, taking him
+for a Bolshevik, fell upon him and pretty nearly mauled the life out of
+him. After that there was protest from people who thought it unwise to
+break too many laws while defending law and order, so the district
+attorney&rsquo;s office arranged to take on the young soldier boys as deputy
+sheriffs, and give them all badges, legal and proper.
+</p>
+<p>
+<br /><br />
+</p>
+<hr />
+<p>
+<a name="link2H_4_0081" id="link2H_4_0081"> </a>
+</p>
+<div style="height: 4em;">
+<br /><br /><br /><br />
+</div>
+<h2>
+Section 81
+</h2>
+<p>
+Peter Gudge often went along on these hunting parties. Peter, curiously
+enough, discovered in himself the same &ldquo;complex&rdquo; as the balked soldier
+boys. Peter had been reading war news for five years, but had missed the
+fighting; and now he discovered that he liked to fight. What had kept him
+from liking to fight in the past was the danger of getting hurt; but now
+that there was no such danger, he could enjoy it. In past times people had
+called him a coward, and he had heard it so often that he had come to
+believe it; but now he realized that it was not true, he was just as brave
+as anybody else in the crowd.
+</p>
+<p>
+The truth was that Peter had not had a happy time in his youth, he had
+never learned, like the younger members of the Chamber of Commerce and the
+Merchants&rsquo; and Manufacturers&rsquo; Association, to knock a little white ball
+about a field with various shapes and sizes of clubs. Peter was like a
+business man who has missed his boyhood, and then in later years finds the
+need of recreation, and takes up some form of sport by the orders of his
+physician. It became Peter&rsquo;s, form of sport to stick an automatic revolver
+in his hip-pocket, and take a blackjack in his hand, and rush into a room
+where thirty or forty Russians or &ldquo;Sheenies&rdquo; of all ages and lengths of
+beard were struggling to learn the intricacies of English spelling. Peter
+would give a yell, and see this crowd leap and scurry hither and thither,
+and chase them about and take a whack at a head wherever he saw one, and
+jump into a crowd who were bunched together like sheep, trying to hide
+their heads, and pound them over the exposed parts of their anatomy until
+they scattered into the open again. He liked to get a lot of them started
+downstairs and send them tumbling heels over head; or if he could get them
+going out a window, that was more exhilarating yet, and he would yell and
+whoop at them. He learned some of their cries&mdash;outlandish gibberish
+it was&mdash;and he would curse them in their own language. He had a
+streak of the monkey in him, and as he got to know these people better he
+would imitate their antics and their gestures of horror, and set a whole
+room full of the &ldquo;bulls&rdquo; laughing to split their sides. There was a famous
+&ldquo;movie&rdquo; comedian with big feet, and Peter would imitate this man, and
+waddle up to some wretched sweat-shop worker and boot him in the trousers&rsquo; 
+seat, or step on his toes, or maybe spit in his eye. So he became
+extremely popular among the &ldquo;bulls,&rdquo; and they would insist on his going
+everywhere with them.
+</p>
+<p>
+Later on, when the government set to work to break up the Communist Party
+and the Communist Labor Party, Peter&rsquo;s popularity and prestige increased
+still more. For now, instead of just raiding and smashing, the police and
+detectives would round up the prisoners and arrest them by hundreds, and
+carry them off and put them thru &ldquo;examinations.&rdquo; And Peter was always
+needed for this; his special knowledge made him indispensable, and he
+became practically the boss of the proceedings. It had been arranged thru
+&ldquo;Shorty&rdquo; Gunton and the other &ldquo;under cover&rdquo; men that the meetings of the
+Communist and Communist Labor parties should be held on the same night;
+and all over the country this same thing was done, and next morning the
+world was electrified by the news that all these meetings had been raided
+at the same hour, and thousands of Reds placed under arrest. In American
+City the Federal government had hired a suite of about a dozen rooms
+adjoining the offices of Guffey, and all night and next morning batches of
+prisoners were brought in, until there were about four hundred in all.
+They were crowded into these rooms with barely space to sit down; of
+course there was an awful uproar, moaning and screaming of people who had
+been battered, and a smell that beat the monkey cage at the zoological
+gardens.
+</p>
+<p>
+The prisoners were kept penned up in this place for several weeks, and all
+the time more were being brought in; there were so many that the women had
+to be stored in the toilets. Many of the prisoners fell ill, or pretended
+to fall ill, and several of them went insane, or pretended to go insane,
+and several of them died, or pretended to die. And of course the parlor
+Reds and sympathizers were busy outside making a terrible fuss about it.
+They had no more papers, and could not hold any more meetings, and when
+they tried to circulate literature the post-office authorities tied them
+up; but still somehow they managed to get publicity, and Peter&rsquo;s &ldquo;under
+cover&rdquo; men would report to him who was doing this work, and Peter would
+arrange to have more raids and more batches of prisoners brought in. In
+one of the &ldquo;bomb-plots&rdquo; which had been unveiled in the East they had
+discovered some pink paper, used either for printing leaflets, or for
+wrapping explosives, one could not be sure. Anyhow, the secret agencies
+with which Guffey was connected had distributed samples of this paper over
+the country, and any time the police wanted to finish some poor devil,
+they would find this deadly &ldquo;pink paper&rdquo; in his possession, and the
+newspapers would brand him as one of the group of conspirators who were
+sending infernal machines thru the mails.
+</p>
+<p>
+<br /><br />
+</p>
+<hr />
+<p>
+<a name="link2H_4_0082" id="link2H_4_0082"> </a>
+</p>
+<div style="height: 4em;">
+<br /><br /><br /><br />
+</div>
+<h2>
+Section 82
+</h2>
+<p>
+Peter was so busy these days that he missed several nights&rsquo; sleep, and
+hardly even stopped to eat. He had his own private room, where the
+prisoners were brought for examination, and he had half a dozen men under
+his orders to do the &ldquo;strong arm&rdquo; work. It was his task to extract from
+these prisoners admissions which would justify their being sent to prison
+if they were citizens, or being deported if they were aliens. There was of
+course seldom any way to distinguish between citizens and aliens; you just
+had to take a chance on it, proceeding on the certainty that all were
+dangerous. Many years ago, when Peter had been working for Pericles Priam,
+they had spent several months in a boarding house, and you could tell when
+there was going to be beef-steak for dinner, because you heard the cook
+pounding it with the potato-masher to &ldquo;tender it up;&rdquo; and Peter learned
+this phrase, and now used the process upon his alien Reds. When they came
+into the room, Peter&rsquo;s men would fall upon them and beat them and cuff
+them, knocking them about from one fist to another. If they were stubborn
+and would not &ldquo;come across,&rdquo; Peter would take them in hand himself,
+remembering how successful Guffey had been in getting things out of him by
+the twisting of wrists and the bending back of fingers.
+</p>
+<p>
+It was amazing how clever and subtle some of these fellows were. They were
+just lousy foreign laborers, but they spent all their spare time reading;
+you would find large collections of books in their rooms when you made
+your raids, and they knew exactly what you wanted, and would parry your
+questions. Peter would say: &ldquo;You&rsquo;re an Anarchist, aren&rsquo;t you?&rdquo; And the
+answer would be: &ldquo;I&rsquo;m not an Anarchist in the sense of the word you mean&rdquo;&mdash;as
+if there could be two meanings of the word &ldquo;Anarchist!&rdquo; Peter would say,
+&ldquo;You believe in violence, do you not?&rdquo; And then the fellow would become
+impertinent: &ldquo;It is you who believe in violence, look at my face that you
+have smashed.&rdquo; Or Peter would say, &ldquo;You don&rsquo;t like this government, do
+you?&rdquo; And the answer would be, &ldquo;I always liked it until it treated me so
+badly&rdquo;&mdash;all kinds of evasions like that, and there would be a
+stenographer taking it down, and unless Peter could get something into the
+record that was a confession, it would not be possible to deport that Red.
+So Peter would fall upon him and &ldquo;tender him up&rdquo; until he would answer
+what he was told to answer; or maybe Peter would prepare an interview as
+he wanted it to be, and the detectives would grab the man&rsquo;s hand and make
+him sign it; or maybe Peter would just sign it himself.
+</p>
+<p>
+These were harsh methods, but there was no way to help it, the Reds were
+so cunning. They were secretly undermining the government, and was the
+government to lie down and admit its helplessness? The answer of 100%
+Americanism was thundered from every wood and templed hill in the country;
+also from every newspaper office. The answer was &ldquo;No!&rdquo; 100% Americanism
+would find a way to preserve itself from the sophistries of European
+Bolshevism; 100% Americanism had worked out its formula: &ldquo;If they don&rsquo;t
+like this country, let them go back where they come from.&rdquo; But of course,
+knowing in their hearts that America was the best country in the world,
+they didn&rsquo;t want to go back, and it was necessary to make them go.
+</p>
+<p>
+Peter was there for that purpose, and his devoted wife was by his side,
+egging him on with her feminine implacability. Gladys had always been
+accustomed to refer to these people as &ldquo;cattle,&rdquo; and now, when she smelled
+them herded together in these office rooms for several weeks, she knew
+that she was right, and that no fate could be too stern for them.
+Presently with Peter&rsquo;s help she discovered another bomb-plot, this time
+against the Attorney-General of the country, who was directing these
+wholesale raids. They grabbed four Italian Anarchists in American City,
+and kept them apart in special rooms, and for a couple of months Peter
+labored with them to get what he wanted out of them. Just as Peter thought
+he had succeeded, his efforts were balked by one of them jumping out of
+the window. The room being on the fourteenth story, this Italian Anarchist
+was no longer available as a witness against himself. The incident set the
+parlor Bolsheviks all over the country to raging, and caused David Andrews
+to get some kind of court injunction, and make a lot of inconvenience to
+Guffey&rsquo;s office.
+</p>
+<p>
+However, the work went on; the Reds were gradually sorted out, and some
+who proved not to be Reds were let go again, and others were loaded onto
+special Red trains and taken to the nearest ports. Some of them went in
+grim silence, others went with furious cursings, and yet others with
+wailings and shriekings; for many of them had families, and they had the
+nerve to demand that the government should undertake to ship their
+families also, or else to take care of their families for them! The
+government, naturally, admitted no such responsibility. The Reds had no
+end of money for printing seditious literature, so let them use it to take
+care of their own!
+</p>
+<p>
+In these various raids and examinations Peter of course met a great many
+of the Reds whom he had once known as friends and intimates. Peter had
+been wont to imagine himself meeting them, and to tremble at the bare
+idea; but now he found that he rather enjoyed it. He was entirely
+delivered from that fear of them, which had formerly spoiled his appetite
+and disturbed his sleep. He had learned that the Reds were poor creatures
+who did not fight back; they had no weapons, and many of them did not even
+have muscles; there was really nothing to them but talk. And Peter knew
+that he had the power of organized society behind him, the police and the
+courts and the jails, if necessary the army with its machine guns and
+airplanes and poison gas. Not merely was it safe to pound these people, to
+tread on their toes and spit in their eyes; it was safe also to frame up
+anything on them, because the newspapers would always back you up, and the
+public would of course believe whatever it read in its newspapers.
+</p>
+<p>
+No, Peter was no longer afraid of the Reds! He made up his mind that he
+was not even afraid of Mac, the most dangerous Red of them all. Mac was
+safely put away in jail for twenty years, and although his case had been
+appealed, the court had refused to grant a stay of sentence or to let him
+out on bail. As it happened, Peter got a glimpse into Mac&rsquo;s soul in jail,
+and knew that even that proud, grim spirit was breaking. Mac in jail had
+written a letter to one of his fellow-Reds in American City, and the
+post-office authorities had intercepted the letter, and Guffey had shown
+it to Peter. &ldquo;Write to us!&rdquo; Mac had pleaded. &ldquo;For God&rsquo;s sake, write to us!
+The worst horror of being in jail is that you are forgotten. Do at least
+let us know that somebody is thinking about us!&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+So Peter knew that he was the victor, he was &ldquo;top dog.&rdquo; And when he met
+these Reds whom he had been so afraid of, he took pleasure in letting them
+feel the weight of his authority, and sometimes of his fist. It was
+amusing to see the various ways in which they behaved toward him. Some
+would try to plead with him, for the sake of old times; some would cringe
+and whine to him; some would try to reason with him, to touch his
+conscience. But mostly they would be haughty, they would glare at him with
+hate, or put a sneer of contempt on their faces. So Peter would set his
+&ldquo;bulls&rdquo; to work to improve their manners, and a little thumb-bending and
+wrist-twisting would soon do the work.
+</p>
+<p>
+<br /><br />
+</p>
+<hr />
+<p>
+<a name="link2H_4_0083" id="link2H_4_0083"> </a>
+</p>
+<div style="height: 4em;">
+<br /><br /><br /><br />
+</div>
+<h2>
+Section 83
+</h2>
+<p>
+Among the first load to be brought in was Miriam Yankovich. Miriam had
+joined the Communist Party, and she had been born in Russia, so that was
+all there was to her case. Peter, knew, of course that it was Miriam who
+had set Rosie Stern after him and brought about his downfall. Still, he
+could not help but be moved by her appearance. She looked haggard and old,
+and she had a cough, and her eyes were wild and crazy. Peter remembered
+her as proud and hot-tempered, but now her pride was all gone&mdash;she
+flung herself on her knees before him, and caught hold of his coat,
+sobbing hysterically. It appeared that she had a mother and five young
+brothers and sisters who were dependent upon her earnings; all her money
+had been consumed by hospital expenses, and now she was to be deported to
+Russia, and what would become of her loved ones?
+</p>
+<p>
+Peter answered, what could he do? She had violated the law, they had her
+membership card in the Communist Party, and she had admitted that she was
+alien born. He tried to draw away, but she clung to him, and went on
+sobbing and pleading. At least she ought to have a chance to talk with her
+old mother, to tell her what to do, where to go for help, how to
+communicate with Miriam in future. They were sending her away without
+allowing her to have a word with her loved ones, without even a chance to
+get her clothing!
+</p>
+<p>
+Peter, as we know, had always been soft-hearted towards women, so now he
+was embarrassed. In the handling of these cattle he was carrying out the
+orders of his superiors; he had no power to grant favors to any one, and
+he told Miriam this again and again. But she would not listen to him.
+&ldquo;Please, Peter, please! For God&rsquo;s sake, Peter! You know you were once a
+little in love with me, Peter&mdash;you told me so&mdash;&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+Yes, that was true, but it hadn&rsquo;t done Peter much good. Miriam had been
+interested in Mac&mdash;in Mac, that most dangerous devil, who had given
+Peter so many anxious hours! She had brushed Peter to one side, she had
+hardly been willing to listen to what he said; and now she was trying to
+use that love she had spurned!
+</p>
+<p>
+She had got hold of his hand, and he could not get it away from her
+without violence. &ldquo;If you ever felt a spark of love for a woman,&rdquo; she
+cried, &ldquo;surely you cannot deny such a favor&mdash;such a little favor!
+Please, Peter, for the sake of old times!&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+Suddenly Peter started, and Miriam too. There came a voice from the
+doorway. &ldquo;So this is one of your lady friends, is it?&rdquo; And there stood
+Gladys, staring, rigid with anger, her little hands clenched. &ldquo;So this is
+one of your Red sweethearts, one of your nationalized women?&rdquo; And she
+stamped her foot. &ldquo;Get up, you hussy! Get up, you slut!&rdquo; And as Miriam
+continued to kneel, motionless with surprise, Gladys rushed at her, and
+clutched two handfuls of her heavy black hair, and pulled so that Miriam
+fell prone on the floor. &ldquo;I&rsquo;ll teach you, you free lover!&rdquo; she screamed.
+&ldquo;I&rsquo;ll teach you to make love to my husband!&rdquo; And she dragged Miriam about
+by that mop of black hair, kicking her and clawing her, until finally
+several of the bulls had to interfere to save the girl&rsquo;s life.
+</p>
+<p>
+As a matter of fact Gladys had been told about Peter&rsquo;s shameful past
+before she married him; Guffey had told her, and she had told Peter that
+Guffey had told her, she had reminded Peter of it many, many times. But
+the actual sight of one of these &ldquo;nationalized women&rdquo; had driven her into
+a frenzy, and it was a week before peace was restored in the Gudge family.
+Meantime poor Peter was buffeted by storms of emotion, both at home and in
+his office. They were getting ready the first Red train, and it seemed as
+if every foreign Red that Peter had ever known was besieging him, trying
+to get at him and harrow his soul and his conscience. Sadie Todd&rsquo;s cousin,
+who had been born in England, was shipped out on this first train, and
+also a Finnish lumberman whom Peter had known in the I. W. W., and a
+Bohemian cigar worker at whose home he had several times eaten, and
+finally Michael Dubin, the Jewish boy with whom he had spent fifteen days
+in jail, and who had been one of the victims of the black-snake whippings.
+</p>
+<p>
+Michael made no end of wailing, because he had a wife and three babies,
+and he set up the claim that when the &ldquo;bulls&rdquo; had raided his home they had
+stolen all his savings, two or three hundred dollars. Peter, of course,
+insisted that he could do nothing; Dubin was a Red and an alien, and he
+must go. When they were loading them on the train, there was Dubin&rsquo;s wife
+and half a hundred other women, shrieking and wringing their hands, and
+trying to break thru the guards to get near their loved ones. The police
+had to punch them in the stomachs with their clubs to hold them back, and
+in spite of all these blows, the hysterical Mrs. Dubin succeeded in
+breaking thru the guards, and she threw herself under the wheels of the
+train, and they were barely able to drag her away in time to save her
+life. Scenes like this would, of course, have a bad effect upon the
+public, and so Guffey called up the editors of all the newspapers, and
+obtained a gentleman&rsquo;s agreement that none of them would print any
+details.
+</p>
+<p>
+<br /><br />
+</p>
+<hr />
+<p>
+<a name="link2H_4_0084" id="link2H_4_0084"> </a>
+</p>
+<div style="height: 4em;">
+<br /><br /><br /><br />
+</div>
+<h2>
+Section 84
+</h2>
+<p>
+All over the country the Red trains were moving eastward, loaded with
+&ldquo;wobblies&rdquo; and communists, pacifists and anarchists, and a hundred other
+varieties of Bolsheviks. They got a shipload together and started them off
+for Russia&mdash;the &ldquo;Red Ark&rdquo; it was called, and the Red soap-boxers set
+tip a terrific uproar, and one Red clergyman compared the &ldquo;Red Ark&rdquo; to the
+Mayflower! Also there was some Red official in Washington, who made a fuss
+and cancelled a whole block of deportation orders, including some of
+Peter&rsquo;s own cases. This, naturally, was exasperating to Peter and his
+wife; and on top of it came another incident that was still more
+humiliating.
+</p>
+<p>
+There was a &ldquo;pink&rdquo; mass meeting held in American City, to protest against
+the deportations. Guffey said they would quite probably raid the meeting,
+and Peter must go along, so as to point out the Reds to the bulls. The
+work was in charge of a police detective by the name of Garrity, head of
+what was called the &ldquo;Bomb Squad&rdquo;; but this man didn&rsquo;t know very much, so
+he had the habit of coming to Peter for advice. Now he had the whole
+responsibility of this meeting, and he asked Peter to come up on the
+platform with him, and Peter went. Here was a vast audience&mdash;all the
+Red fury which had been pent up for many months, breaking loose in a
+whirlwind of excitement. Here were orators, well dressed and apparently
+respectable men, not in any way to be distinguished from the born rulers
+of the country, coming forward on the platform and uttering the most
+treasonable sentences, denouncing the government, denouncing the blockade
+against Russia, praising the Bolshevik government of Russia, declaring
+that the people who went away in the &ldquo;Soviet Ark&rdquo; were fortunate, because
+they were escaping from a land of tyranny into a land of freedom. At every
+few sentences the orator would be stopped by a storm of applause that
+broke from the audience.
+</p>
+<p>
+And what was a poor Irish Catholic police detective to make of a
+proposition like that? Here stood an orator declaring: &ldquo;Whenever any form
+of government becomes destructive to these ends, it is the right of the
+people to alter or to abolish it, and to institute new government, laying
+its foundations on such principles and organizing its powers in such form,
+as to them shall seem most likely to effect their safety and happiness.&rdquo;
+ And Garrity turned to Peter. &ldquo;What do you think of that?&rdquo; he said, his
+good-natured Irish face blank with dismay.
+</p>
+<p>
+Peter thought it was the limit. Peter knew that thousands of men all over
+America had been sent to prison for saying things less dangerous than
+that. Peter had read many sets of instructions from the office of the
+Attorney-General of the United States, and knew officially that that was
+precisely the thing you were never under any circumstances permitted to
+say, or to write, or even to think. So Peter said to Garrity: &ldquo;That
+fellow&rsquo;s gone far enough. You better arrest him.&rdquo; Garrity spoke to his
+men, and they sprang forward on the platform, and stopped the orator and
+placed him and all his fellow-orators under arrest, and ordered the
+audience out of the building. There were a couple of hundred policemen and
+detectives on hand to carry out Garrity&rsquo;s commands, and they formed a line
+with their clubs, and drove the crowd before them, and carted the speakers
+off in a patrol wagon. Then Peter went back to Guffey&rsquo;s office, and told
+what he had done&mdash;and got a reception that reminded him of the time
+Guffey had confronted him with the letter from Nell Doolin! &ldquo;Who do you
+think that was you pinched?&rdquo; cried Guffey. &ldquo;He&rsquo;s the brother of a United
+States senator! And what do you think he was saying? That was a sentence
+from the Declaration of Independence!&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+Peter couldn&rsquo;t &ldquo;get it&rdquo;; Peter was utterly lost. Could a man go ahead and
+break the law, just because he happened to be a brother of a United States
+senator? And what difference did it make whether a thing was in the
+Declaration of Independence, if it was seditious, if it wasn&rsquo;t allowed to
+be said? This incident brought Guffey and the police authorities of the
+city so much ridicule that Guffey got all his men together and read them a
+lecture, explaining to them just what were the limits of the anti-Red
+activities, just who it was they mustn&rsquo;t arrest, and just what it was they
+couldn&rsquo;t keep people from saying. For example, a man couldn&rsquo;t be arrested
+for quoting the Bible.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;But Jesus Christ, Guffey,&rdquo; broke in one of the men, &ldquo;have all of us got
+to know the Bible by heart?&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+There was a laugh all round. &ldquo;No,&rdquo; Guffey admitted, &ldquo;but at least be
+careful, and don&rsquo;t arrest anybody for saying anything that sounds as if it
+came from the Bible.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;But hell!&rdquo; put in another of the men, who happened to be an ex-preacher.
+&ldquo;That&rsquo;ll tie us up tighter than a jail-sentence! Look what&rsquo;s in the
+Bible!&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+And he proceeded to quote some of the things, and Peter knew that he had
+never heard any Bolshevik talk more outrageous than that. It made one
+realize more than ever how complicated was this Red problem; for Guffey
+insisted, in spite of everything, that every word out of the Bible was
+immune. &ldquo;Up in Winnipeg,&rdquo; said he, &ldquo;they indicted a clergyman for quoting
+two passages from the prophet Isaiah, but they couldn&rsquo;t face it, they had
+to let the fellow go.&rdquo; And the same thing was true of the Declaration of
+Independence; anybody might read it, no matter how seditious it was. And
+the same thing was true of the Constitution, even tho the part called the
+Bill of Rights declared that everybody in America might do all the things
+that Guffey&rsquo;s office was sending them to jail for doing!
+</p>
+<p>
+This seemed a plain crazy proposition; but Guffey explained it as a matter
+of politics. If they went too far, these fellows would go out and capture
+the votes from them, and maybe take away the government from them, and
+where would they be then? Peter had never paid any attention to politics
+before this, but both he and Gladys realized after this lecture that they
+must broaden their view-point. It was not enough to put the Reds in jail
+and crack their skulls, you had to keep public sympathy for what you were
+doing, you had to make the public understand that it was necessary, you
+had to carry on what was called &ldquo;propaganda,&rdquo; to keep the public aware of
+the odiousness of these cattle, and the desperate nature of their
+purposes.
+</p>
+<p>
+The man who perceived that most clearly was the Attorney-General of the
+country, and Guffey in his lecture pointed out the double nature of his
+activities. Not merely was the Attorney-General breaking up the Communist
+and the Communist Labor parties and sending their members to jail; he was
+using the funds of his office to send out an endless stream of propaganda,
+to keep the country frightened about these Red plots. Right now he had men
+in American City working over the data which Guffey had collected, and
+every week or two he would make a speech somewhere, or would issue a
+statement to the newspapers, telling of new bomb plots and new
+conspiracies to overthrow the government. And how clever he was about it!
+He would get the pictures of the very worst-looking of the Reds, pictures
+taken after they had been kept in jail for weeks without a shave, and with
+the third degree to spoil their tempers; and these pictures would be
+spread on a sheet with the caption: &ldquo;MEN LIKE THESE WOULD RULE YOU.&rdquo; This
+would be sent to ten thousand country newspapers all over the nation, and
+ninety-nine hundred would publish it, and ninety-nine million Americans
+would want to murder the Reds next morning. So successful had this plan
+proven that the Attorney-General was expecting to be nominated for
+President by means of it, and all the agencies of his department were
+working to that end.
+</p>
+<p>
+The same thing was being done by all the other agencies of big business
+all over the country. The &ldquo;Improve America League&rdquo; of American City was
+publishing full-page advertisements in the &ldquo;Times,&rdquo; and the &ldquo;Home and
+Fireside Association&rdquo; of Eldorado was doing the same thing in the Eldorado
+&ldquo;Times,&rdquo; and the &ldquo;Patriot&rsquo;s Defense Legion&rdquo; was doing the same thing in
+the Flagland &ldquo;Banner.&rdquo; They were investigating the records of all
+political candidates, and if any of them showed the faintest tinge of
+pink, Guffey&rsquo;s office would set to work to rake up their records and get
+up scandals on them, and the business men would contribute a big campaign
+fund, and these candidates would be snowed under at the polls. That was
+the kind of work they were doing, and all Guffey&rsquo;s operatives must bear in
+mind the importance of it, and must never take any step that would hamper
+this political campaign, this propaganda on behalf of law and order.
+</p>
+<p>
+<br /><br />
+</p>
+<hr />
+<p>
+<a name="link2H_4_0085" id="link2H_4_0085"> </a>
+</p>
+<div style="height: 4em;">
+<br /><br /><br /><br />
+</div>
+<h2>
+Section 85
+</h2>
+<p>
+Peter went out from this conference a sober man, realizing for the first
+time his responsibilities as a voter, and a shepherd to other voters.
+Peter agreed with Gladys that his views had been too narrow; his
+conception of the duties of a secret agent had been of the pre-war order.
+Now he must realize that the world was changed; now, in this new world
+made safe for democracy, the secret agent was the real ruler of society,
+the real master of affairs, the trustee, as it were, for civilization.
+Peter and his wife must take up this new role and make themselves fit for
+it. They ought of course not be moved by personal considerations, but at
+the same time they must recognize the fact that this higher role would be
+of great advantage to them; it would enable them to move up in the world,
+to meet the best people. Thru five or six years of her young life Gladys
+had sat polishing the fingernails and fondling the soft white hands of the
+genteel; and always a fire of determination had burnt in her breast, that
+some day she would belong to this world of gentility, she would meet these
+people, not as an employee, but as an equal, she would not merely hold
+their hands, but would have them hold hers.
+</p>
+<p>
+Now the chance had come. She had a little talk with Guffey, and Guffey
+said it would be a good idea, and he would speak to Billy Nash, the
+secretary of the &ldquo;Improve America League&rdquo;; and he did so, and next week
+the American City &ldquo;Times&rdquo; announced that on the following Sunday evening
+the Men&rsquo;s Bible Class of the Bethlehem Church would have an interesting
+meeting. It would be addressed by an &ldquo;under cover&rdquo; operative of the
+government, a former Red who had been for many years a most dangerous
+agitator, but had seen the error of his ways, and had made amends by
+giving his services to the government in the recent I. W. W. trials.
+</p>
+<p>
+The Bethlehem Church didn&rsquo;t amount to very much, it was an obscure sect
+like the Holy Rollers; but Gladys had been shrewd, and had insisted that
+you mustn&rsquo;t try to climb to the top of the mountain in one step. Peter
+must first &ldquo;try it on the dog,&rdquo; and if he failed, there would be no great
+harm done.
+</p>
+<p>
+But Gladys worked just as hard to make a success of this lecture as if
+they had been going into real society. She spent several days getting up
+her costume and Peter&rsquo;s, and she spent a whole day getting her toilet
+ready, and before they set out she spent at least an hour putting the
+finishing touches upon herself in front of a mirror, and seeing that Peter
+was proper in every detail. When Mr. Nash introduced her personally to the
+Rev. Zebediah Muggins, and when this apostle of the second advent came out
+upon the platform and introduced her husband to the crowded working-class
+audience, Gladys was so a-quiver with delight that it was more a pain than
+a pleasure.
+</p>
+<p>
+Peter did not do perfectly, of course. He lost himself a few times, and
+stammered and floundered about; but he remembered Glady&rsquo;s advice&mdash;if
+he got stuck, to smile and explain that he had never spoken in public
+before. So everything went along nicely, and everybody in the Men&rsquo;s Bible
+Class was aghast at the incredible revelations of this ex-Red and secret
+agent of law and order. So next week Peter was invited again&mdash;this
+time by the Young Saints&rsquo; League; and when he had made good there, he was
+drafted by the Ad. Men&rsquo;s Association, and then by the Crackers and Cheese
+Club. By this time he had acquired what Gladys called &ldquo;savwaa fair&rdquo;; his
+fame spread rapidly, and at last came the supreme hour&mdash;he was
+summoned to Park Avenue to address the members of the Friendly Society, a
+parish organization of the Church of the Divine Compassion!
+</p>
+<p>
+This was the goal upon which the eyes of Gladys had been fixed. This was
+the time that really counted, and Peter was groomed and rehearsed all over
+again. Their home was only a few blocks from the church, but Gladys
+insisted that they must positively arrive in a taxi-cab, and when they
+entered the Parish Hall and the Rev. de Willoughby Stotterbridge, that
+exquisite almost-English gentleman, came up and shook hands with them,
+Gladys knew that she had at last arrived. The clergyman himself escorted
+her to the platform, and after he had introduced Peter, he seated himself
+beside her, thus definitely putting a seal upon her social position.
+</p>
+<p>
+Peter, having learned his lecture by heart, having found out just what
+brought laughter and what brought tears and what brought patriotic
+applause, was now an assured success. After the lecture he answered
+questions, and two clerks in the employ of Billy Nash passed around
+membership cards of the &ldquo;Improve America League,&rdquo; membership dues five
+dollars a year, sustaining membership twenty-five dollars a year, life
+membership two hundred dollars cash. Peter was shaken hands with by
+members of the most exclusive social set in American City, and told by
+them all to keep it up&mdash;his country needed him. Next morning there
+was an account of his lecture in the &ldquo;Times,&rdquo; and the morning after there
+was an editorial about his revelations, with the moral: &ldquo;Join the Improve
+America League.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+<br /><br />
+</p>
+<hr />
+<p>
+<a name="link2H_4_0086" id="link2H_4_0086"> </a>
+</p>
+<div style="height: 4em;">
+<br /><br /><br /><br />
+</div>
+<h2>
+Section 86
+</h2>
+<p>
+That second morning, when Peter got to his office, he found a letter
+waiting for him, a letter written on very conspicuous and expensive
+stationery, and addressed in a woman&rsquo;s tall and sharp-pointed handwriting.
+Peter opened it and got a start, for at the top of the letter was some
+kind of crest, and a Latin inscription, and the words: &ldquo;Society of the
+Daughters of the American Revolution.&rdquo; The letter informed him by the hand
+of a secretary that Mrs. Warring Sammye requested that Mr. Peter Gudge
+would be so good as to call upon her that afternoon at three o&rsquo;clock.
+Peter studied the letter, and tried to figure out what kind of Red this
+was. He was impressed by the stationery and the regal tone, but that word
+&ldquo;Revolution&rdquo; was one of the forbidden words. Mrs. Warren Sammye must be
+one of the &ldquo;Parlor Reds,&rdquo; like Mrs. Godd.
+</p>
+<p>
+So Peter took the letter to McGivney, and said suspiciously, &ldquo;What kind of
+a Red plot is this?&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+McGivney read the letter, and said, &ldquo;Red plot? How do you mean?&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Why,&rdquo; explained Peter, &ldquo;it says &lsquo;Daughters of the American Revolution.&rsquo;&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+And McGivney looked at him; at first he thought that Peter was joking, but
+when he saw that the fellow was really in earnest, he guffawed in his
+face. &ldquo;You boob!&rdquo; he said. &ldquo;Didn&rsquo;t you ever hear of the American
+Revolution? Don&rsquo;t you know anything about the Fourth of July?&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+Just then the telephone rang and interrupted them, and McGivney shoved the
+letter to him saying, &ldquo;Ask your wife about it!&rdquo; So when Gladys came in,
+Peter gave her the letter, and she was much excited. It appeared that Mrs.
+Warring Sammye was a very tip-top society lady in American City, and this
+American Revolution of which she was a daughter was a perfectly
+respectable revolution that had happened a long time ago; the very best
+people belonged to it, and it was legal and proper to write about, and
+even to put on your letterheads. Peter must go home and get himself into
+his best clothes at once, and telephone to the secretary that he would be
+pleased to call upon Mrs. Warring Sammye at the hour indicated.
+Incidentally, there were a few more things for Peter to study. He must get
+a copy of the social register, &ldquo;Who&rsquo;s Who in American City,&rdquo; and he must
+get a history of his country, and learn about the Declaration of
+Independence, and what was the difference between a revolution that had
+happened a long time ago and one that was happening now.
+</p>
+<p>
+So Peter went to call on the great society lady in her grey stone mansion,
+and found her every bit as opulent as Mrs. Godd, with the addition that
+she respected her own social position; she did not make the mistake of
+treating Peter as an equal, and so it did not occur to Peter that he might
+settle down permanently in her home. Her purpose was to tell Peter that
+she had heard of his lecture about the Red menace, and that she was
+chairman of the Board of Directors of the Lady Patronesses of the Home for
+Disabled War Veterans in American City, and she wanted to arrange to have
+Peter deliver this lecture to the veterans. And Peter, instructed in
+advance by Gladys, said that he would be very glad to donate this lecture
+as a patriotic contribution. Mrs. Warring Sammye thanked him gravely in
+the name of his country, and said she would let him know the date.
+</p>
+<p>
+Peter went home, and Gladys made a wry face, because the lecture was to be
+delivered before a lot of good-for-nothing soldiers in some hall, when it
+had been her hope that it was to be delivered to the Daughters themselves,
+and in Mrs. Warring Sammye&rsquo;s home. However, to have attracted Mrs. Warring
+Sammye&rsquo;s attention for anything was in itself a triumph. So Gladys was
+soon cheerful again, and she told Peter about Mrs. Warring Sammye&rsquo;s life;
+one picked up such valuable knowledge in the gossip at the manicure
+parlors, it appeared.
+</p>
+<p>
+Then, being in a friendly mood, Gladys talked to Peter about himself. They
+had mounted to a height from which they could look back upon the past and
+see it as a whole, and in the intimacy and confidence of their domestic
+partnership they could draw lessons from their mistakes and plan their
+future wisely. Peter had made many blunders&mdash;he must surely admit
+that. Did Peter admit that? Yes, Peter did. But, continued Gladys, he had
+struggled bravely, and he had the supreme good fortune to have secured for
+himself that greatest of life&rsquo;s blessings, the cooperation of a good and
+capable woman. Gladys was very emphatic about this latter, and Peter
+agreed with her. He agreed also when she stated that it is the duty of a
+good and capable wife to protect her husband for the balance of their
+life&rsquo;s journey, so that he would be able to avoid the traps which his
+enemies set for his feet. Peter, having learned by bitter experience,
+would never again go chasing after a pretty face, and wake up next morning
+to find his pockets empty. Peter admitted this too. As this conversation
+progressed, he realized that the tour of triumph his life had become was a
+thing entirely of his wife&rsquo;s creation; at least, he realized that there
+would be no use in trying to change his wife&rsquo;s conviction on the subject.
+Likewise he meekly accepted her prophecies as to his future conduct; he
+would bring home his salary at the end of each week, and his wife would
+use it, together with her own salary, to improve the appearance and tone
+of both of them, and to aid them to climb to a higher social position.
+</p>
+<p>
+Peter, following his wife&rsquo;s careful instructions, has already become more
+dignified in his speech, more grave in his movements. She tells him that
+the future of society depends on his knowledge and his skill, and he
+agrees to this also. He has learned what you can do and what you had
+better not do; he will never again cross the dead-line into crime, or take
+chances with experiments in blackmail. He will try no more free lance work
+under the evil influence of low creatures like Nell Doolin, but will stand
+in with the &ldquo;machine,&rdquo; and bear in mind that honesty is the best policy.
+So he will steadily progress; he will meet the big men of the country, and
+will go to them, not cringing and twisting his hat in his hands, but with
+quiet self-possession. He will meet the agents of the Attorney-General
+aspiring to become President, and will furnish them with material for
+their weekly Red scares. He will meet legislators who want to unseat
+elected Socialists, and governors who wish to jail the leaders of &ldquo;outlaw&rdquo;
+ strikes. He will meet magazine writers getting up articles, and popular
+novelists looking for local Red color.
+</p>
+<p>
+But Peter&rsquo;s best bid of all will be as a lecturer. He will be able to
+travel all over the country, making a sensation. Did he know why? No,
+Peter answered, he was not sure he did. Well, Gladys could tell him; it
+was because he was romantic. Peter didn&rsquo;t know just what this word meant,
+but it sounded flattering, so he smiled sheepishly, showing his crooked
+teeth, and asked how Gladys found out that he was romantic. The reply was
+a sudden order for him to stand up and turn around slowly.
+</p>
+<p>
+Peter didn&rsquo;t like to get up from his comfortable Morris chair, but he did
+what his wife asked him. She inspected him on all sides and exclaimed,
+&ldquo;Peter, you must go on a diet; you&rsquo;re getting ombongpoing!&rdquo; She said this
+in horrified tones, and Peter was frightened, because it sounded like a
+disease. But Gladys added: &ldquo;You can not be a romantic figure on a lecture
+platform if you&rsquo;ve got a bay-window!&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+Peter found it interesting to be talked about, so he asked again why
+Gladys thought he was romantic. There were several reasons, she said, but
+the main one was that he had been a dangerous criminal, and had reformed,
+which pleased the church people; he had made a happy ending by marriage,
+which pleased those who read novels.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Is that so?&rdquo; said Peter, guilelessly, and she assured him that it was.
+&ldquo;And what else?&rdquo; he asked, and she explained that he had known intimately
+and at first hand those dreadful and dangerous people, those ogres of the
+modern world, the Bolsheviks, about whom the average man and woman learned
+only thru the newspapers. And not merely did he tell a sensational story,
+but he ended it with a money-making lesson. The lesson was &ldquo;Contribute to
+the Improve America League. Make out your checks to the Home and Fireside
+Association. The existence of your country depends upon your sustaining
+the Patriot&rsquo;s Defense Legion.&rdquo; So the fame of Peter&rsquo;s lecture would
+spread, and the Guffeys and Billy Nashes of every city and town in America
+would clamor for him to come, and when he came, the newspapers would
+publish his picture, and he and his wife would be welcomed by leaders of
+the best society. They would become social lions, and would see the homes
+of the rich, and gradually become one of the rich.
+</p>
+<p>
+Gladys looked her spouse over again, as they started to their sleeping
+apartment. Yes, he was undoubtedly putting on &ldquo;ombongpoing&rdquo;; he would have
+to take up golf. He was wearing a little American flag dangling from his
+watch chain, and she wondered if that wasn&rsquo;t a trifle crude. Gladys
+herself now wore a real diamond ring, and had learned to say &ldquo;vahse&rdquo; and
+&ldquo;baahth.&rdquo; She yawned prettily as she took off her lovely brown
+&ldquo;tailor-made,&rdquo; and reflected that such things come with ease and security.
+</p>
+<p>
+Both she and Peter now had these in full measure. They had lost all fear
+of ever finding themselves out of a job. They had come to understand that
+the Red menace is not to be so easily exterminated; it is a distemper that
+lurks in the blood of society, and breaks out every now and then in a new
+rash. Gladys had come to agree with the Reds to this extent, that so long
+as there is a class of the rich and prosperous, so long will there be
+social discontent, so long will there be some that make their living by
+agitating, denouncing and crying out for change. Society is like a garden;
+each year when you plant your vegetables there springs up also a crop of
+weeds, and you have to go down the rows and chop off the heads of these
+weeds. Gladys&rsquo; husband is an expert gardener, he knows how to chop weeds,
+and he knows that society will never be able to dispense with his
+services. So long as gardening continues, Peter will be a head
+weedchopper, and a teacher of classes of young weedchoppers.
+</p>
+<p>
+Ah, it was fine to have married such a man! It was the reward a good woman
+received for helping her husband, making him into a good citizen, a
+patriot and an upholder of law and order: For always, of course, those who
+own the garden would see that their head weedchopper was taken care of,
+and had his share of the best that the garden produced. Gladys stood
+before her looking-glass, braiding her hair for the night, and thinking of
+the things she would ask from this garden. She and Peter had earned, and
+they would demand, the sweetest flowers, the most luscious fruits.
+Suddenly Gladys stretched wide her arms in an ecstasy of realization.
+&ldquo;We&rsquo;re a Success, Peter! We&rsquo;re a Success! We&rsquo;ll have money and all the
+lovely things it will buy! Do you realize, Peter, what a hit you&rsquo;ve made?&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+Peter saw her face of joy, but he was a tiny bit frightened and uncertain,
+because of this unusual sharing of the honors. So Gladys was impelled to
+affection, mingled with pity. She held out her arms to him. &ldquo;Poor, dear
+Peter! He&rsquo;s had such a hard life! It was cruel he didn&rsquo;t have me sooner to
+help him!&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+And then Gladys reflected for a moment, and was moved to another outburst.
+&ldquo;Just think, Peter, how wonderful it is to be an American! In America you
+can always rise if you do your duty! America is the land of the free! Your
+example of a poor boy&rsquo;s success ought to convince even the fool Reds that
+they&rsquo;re wrong&mdash;that any boy can rise if he works hard! Why, I&rsquo;ve
+heard it said that in America the poorest boy can rise to be President!
+How would you like to be President, Peter?&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+Peter hesitated. He doubted if he was equal to that big a job, but he knew
+that it would not please Gladys for him to say so. He murmured, &ldquo;Perhaps&mdash;some
+day&mdash;&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Anyhow, Peter,&rdquo; his wife continued, &ldquo;I&rsquo;m for this country! I&rsquo;m an
+American!&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+And this time Peter didn&rsquo;t have to hesitate. &ldquo;You bet!&rdquo; he said, and added
+his favorite formula&mdash;&ldquo;100%!&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+<br /><br />
+</p>
+<hr />
+<p>
+<a name="link2H_APPE" id="link2H_APPE"> </a>
+</p>
+<div style="height: 4em;">
+<br /><br /><br /><br />
+</div>
+<h2>
+APPENDIX
+</h2>
+<p>
+A little experimenting with the manuscript of &ldquo;100%" has revealed to the
+writer that everybody has a series of questions they wish immediately to
+ask: How much of it is true? To what extent have the business men of
+America been compelled to take over the detection and prevention of
+radicalism? Have they, in putting down the Reds, been driven to such
+extreme measures as you have here shown?
+</p>
+<p>
+A few of the incidents in &ldquo;100%" are fictional, for example the story of
+Nell Doolin and Nelse Ackerman; but everything that has social
+significance is truth, and has been made to conform to facts personally
+known to the writer or to his friends. Practically all the characters in
+&ldquo;100%" are real persons. Peter Gudge is a real person, and has several
+times been to call upon the writer in the course of his professional
+activities; Guffey and McGivney are real persons, and so is Billy Nash,
+and so is Gladys Frisbie.
+</p>
+<p>
+To begin at the beginning: the &ldquo;Goober case&rdquo; parallels in its main
+outlines the case of Tom Mooney. If you wish to know about this case, send
+fifteen cents to the Mooney Defense Committee, Post Office Box 894, San
+Francisco, for the pamphlet, &ldquo;Shall Mooney Hang,&rdquo; by Robert Minor. The
+business men of San Francisco raised a million dollars to save the city
+from union labor, and the Mooney case was the way they did it. It
+happened, however, that the judge before whom Mooney was convicted
+weakened, and wrote to the Attorney-General of the State to the effect
+that he had become convinced that Mooney was convicted by perjured
+testimony. But meantime Mooney was in jail, and is there still. Fremont
+Older, editor of the San Francisco &ldquo;Call,&rdquo; who has been conducting an
+investigation into this case, has recently written to the author:
+&ldquo;Altogether, it is the most amazing story I have ever had anything to do
+with. When all is known that I think can be known, it will be shown
+clearly that the State before an open-eyed community was able to murder a
+man with the instruments that the people have provided for bringing about
+justice. There isn&rsquo;t a scrap of testimony in either of the Mooney or
+Billings cases that wasn&rsquo;t perjured, except that of the man who drew the
+blue prints of Market Street.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+To what extent has the detection and punishment of radicalism in America
+passed out of the hands of public authorities and into the hands of &ldquo;Big
+Business?&rdquo; Any business man will of course agree that when &ldquo;Big Business&rdquo;
+ has interests to protect, it must and will protect them. So far as
+possible it will make use of the public authorities; but when thru
+corruption or fear of politics these fail, &ldquo;Big Business&rdquo; has to act for
+itself. In the Colorado coal strike the coal companies raised the money to
+pay the state militia, and recruited new companies of militia from their
+private detectives. The Reds called this &ldquo;Government by Gunmen,&rdquo; and the
+writer in his muckraking days wrote a novel about it, &ldquo;King Coal.&rdquo; The man
+who directed the militia during this coal strike was A. C. Felts of the
+Baldwin-Felts Detective Agency, who was killed just the other day while
+governing several coal counties in West Virginia.
+</p>
+<p>
+You will find this condition in the lumber country of Washington and
+Oregon, in the oil country of Oklahoma and Kansas, in the copper country
+of Michigan, Montana and Arizona, and in all the big coal districts. In
+the steel country of Western Pennsylvania you will find that all the local
+authorities are officials of the steel companies. If you go to Bristol, R.
+I., you will find that the National India Rubber Company has agreed to pay
+the salaries of two-thirds of the town&rsquo;s police force.
+</p>
+<p>
+In every large city in America the employers&rsquo; associations have raised
+funds to hold down the unions and smash the Reds, and these funds are
+being expended in the way portrayed in &ldquo;100%.&rdquo; In Los Angeles the
+employers&rsquo; association raised a million dollars, and the result was the
+case of Sydney R. Flowers, briefly sketched in this story under the name
+of &ldquo;Sydney.&rdquo; The reader who wishes the details of this case is referred to
+Chapter LXVI of &ldquo;The Brass Cheek.&rdquo; Flowers has been twice tried, and is
+about to be tried a third time, and our District-Attorney is quoted as
+saying that he will be tried half a dozen times if necessary. At the last
+trial there were produced a total of twenty-five witnesses against
+Flowers, and out of these nineteen were either Peter Gudges and McGivneys,
+or else police detectives, or else employees of the local political
+machine. A deputy United States attorney, talking to me about the case,
+told me that he had refused to prosecute it because he realized that the
+&ldquo;Paul letter,&rdquo; upon which the arrest had been based, was a frame-up, and
+that he was quite sure he knew who had written it. He also told me that
+there had been formed in Los Angeles a secret committee of fifty of the
+most active rich men of the town; that he could not find out what they
+were doing, but they came to his offices and demanded the secret records
+of the government; and that when he refused to prosecute Flowers they had
+influence enough to have the governor of California telegraph to
+Washington in protest. Questioned on the witness stand, I repeated these
+statements, and the deputy United States attorney was called to the stand
+and attributed them to my &ldquo;literary imagination.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+In the old Russian and Austrian empires the technique of trapping
+agitators was well developed, and the use of spies and &ldquo;under cover&rdquo; men
+for the purpose of luring the Reds into crime was completely worked out.
+We have no English equivalent for the phrase &ldquo;agent provocateur,&rdquo; but in
+the last four years we have put thousands of them at work in America. In
+the case against Flowers three witnesses were produced who had been active
+among the I. W. Ws., trying to incite crime, and were being paid to give
+testimony for the state. One of these men admitted that he had himself
+burned some forty barns, and was now receiving three hundred dollars a
+month and expenses. At the trial of William Bross Lloyd in Chicago,
+charged with membership in the Communist party, a similar witness was
+produced. Santeri Nourteva, of, the Soviet Bureau in New York, has charged
+that Louis C. Fraina, editor of the &ldquo;Revolutionary Age,&rdquo; was a government
+agent, and Fraina wrote into the platform of the Communist party the
+planks which were used in prosecuting and deporting its members. On
+December 27, 1919, the chief of the Bureau of Investigation of the
+Department of Justice in Washington sent to the head of his local bureau
+in Boston a telegram containing the following sentences: &ldquo;You should
+arrange with your under cover informants to have meetings of the Communist
+Party and Communist Labor Party held on the night set. I have been
+informed by some of the bureau officers that such arrangements will be
+made.&rdquo; So much evidence of the activity of the provocateur was produced
+before Federal Judge G. W. Anderson that he declared as follows: &ldquo;What
+does appear beyond reasonable dispute is that the Government owns and
+operates some part of the Communist Party.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+It appears that Judge Anderson does not share the high opinion of the
+&ldquo;under cover&rdquo; operative set forth by the writer of &ldquo;100%.&rdquo; Says Judge
+Anderson: &ldquo;I cannot adopt the contention that Government spies are any
+more trustworthy, or less disposed to make trouble in order to profit
+therefrom, than are spies in private industry. Except in time of war, when
+a Nathan Hale may be a spy, spies are always necessarily drawn from the
+unwholesome and untrustworthy classes. A right-minded man refuses such a
+job. The evil wrought by the spy system in industry has, for decades, been
+incalculable. Until it is eliminated, decent human relations cannot exist
+between employers and employees, or even among employees. It destroys
+trust and confidence; it kills human kindliness; it propagates hate.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+To what extent have the governmental authorities of America been forced to
+deny to the Reds the civil rights guaranteed to good Americans by the laws
+and the constitution? The reader who is curious on this point may send the
+sum of twenty-five cents to the American Civil Liberties Union, 138 West
+13th Street, New York, for the pamphlet entitled, &ldquo;Report upon the Illegal
+Practices of the United States Department of Justice,&rdquo; signed by twelve
+eminent lawyers in the country, including a dean of the Harvard Law
+school, and a United States attorney who resigned because of his
+old-fashioned ideas of law. This pamphlet contains sixty-seven pages, with
+numerous exhibits and photographs. The practices set forth are listed
+under six heads: Cruel and unusual punishments; arrests without warrant;
+unreasonable searches and seizures; provocative agents; compelling persons
+to be witnesses against themselves; propaganda by the Department of
+Justice. The reader may also ask for the pamphlet entitled &ldquo;Memorandum
+Regarding the Persecution of the Radical Labor Movement in the United
+States;&rdquo; also for the pamphlet entitled &ldquo;War Time Prosecution and Mob
+Violence,&rdquo; dated March, 1919, giving a list of cases which occupies forty
+pages of closely printed type. Also he might read &ldquo;The Case of the Rand
+School,&rdquo; published by the Rand School of Social Science, 7 East Fifteenth
+Street, New York, and the pamphlets published by the National Office of
+the Socialist Party, 220 South Ashland Blvd., Chicago, dealing with the
+prosecutions of that organization.
+</p>
+<p>
+To what extent has it been necessary to torture the Reds in prison in
+America? Those who are interested are advised to write to Harry
+Weinberger, 32 Union Square, New York, for the pamphlet entitled &ldquo;Twenty
+Years Prison,&rdquo; dealing with the case of Mollie Steimer, and three others
+who were sentenced for distributing a leaflet protesting against the war
+on Russia; also to the American Civil Liberties Union for the pamphlet
+entitled &ldquo;Political Prisoners in Federal Military Prisons,&rdquo; also the
+pamphlet, &ldquo;Uncle Sam: Jailer,&rdquo; by Winthrop D. Lane, reprinted from the
+&ldquo;Survey;&rdquo; also the pamphlet entitled &ldquo;The Soviet of Deer Island, Boston
+Harbor,&rdquo; published by the Boston Branch of the American Civil Liberties
+Union; also for the publications of the American Industrial Company, and
+the American Freedom Foundation, 166 West Washington St., Chicago.
+</p>
+<p>
+There may be some reader with a sense of humor who asks about the brother
+of a United States senator being arrested for reading a paragraph from the
+Declaration of Independence. This gentleman was the brother of United
+States Senator France of Maryland, and curiously enough, the arrest took
+place in the city of Philadelphia, where the Declaration of Independence
+was adopted. There may be some reader who is curious about a clergyman
+being indicted and arrested in Winnipeg for having quoted the prophet
+Isaiah. The paragraph from the indictment in question reads as follows:
+&ldquo;That J. S. Woodsworth, on or about the month of June, in the year of our
+Lord one thousand nine hundred and nineteen, at the City of Winnipeg, in
+the Province of Manitoba, unlawfully and seditiously published seditious
+libels in the words and figures following: &lsquo;Woe unto them that decree
+unrighteous decrees, and that write grievousness which they have
+prescribed; to turn aside the needy from judgment, and to take away their
+right from the poor of my people that widows may be their prey and that
+they may rob the fatherless. . . . And they shall build houses and inhabit
+them, and they shall plant vineyards and eat the fruit of them. They shall
+not build and another inhabit, they shall not plant and another eat; for
+as the days of a tree are the days of my people, and mine elect shall long
+enjoy the work of their hands.&rsquo;&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+There has been reference in this book to the Centralia case. No one can
+consider that he understands the technique of holding down the Reds until
+he has studied this case, and therefore every friend of &ldquo;Big Business&rdquo;
+ should send fifty cents, either to the I. W. W. Headquarters, 1001 West
+Madison Street, Chicago, or to the &ldquo;Liberator,&rdquo; New York, or to the
+&ldquo;Appeal to Reason,&rdquo; Girard, Kansas, for the booklet, &ldquo;The Centralia
+Conspiracy,&rdquo; by Ralph Chaplin, who attended the Centralia trial, and has
+collected all the details and presents them with photographs and
+documents. Many other stories about the I. W. W. have been told in the
+course of &ldquo;100%.&rdquo; The reader will wish to know, are these men really so
+dangerous, and have the business men of America been driven to treat them
+as here described. The reader may again address the I. W. W. National
+Headquarters for a four-page leaflet with the quaint title, &ldquo;With Drops of
+Blood the History of the Industrial Workers of the World has Been
+Written.&rdquo; Despite the fact that it is a bare record of cases, there are
+many men serving long terms in prison in the United States for the offense
+of having in their possession a copy of this leaflet, &ldquo;With Drops of
+Blood.&rdquo; But the readers of this book, being all of them 100% Americans
+engaged in learning the technique of smashing the Reds, will, I feel sure,
+not be interfered with by the business men. Also I trust that the business
+men will not object to my reprinting a few paragraphs from the leaflet, in
+order to make the public realize how dangerously these Reds can write. I
+will, of course, not follow their incendiary example and spatter my page
+with big drops of imitation blood. I quote:
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;We charge that I. W. W. members have been murdered, and mention here a
+few of those who have lost their lives:
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;Joseph Michalish was shot to death by a mob of so-called citizens.
+Michael Hoey was beaten to death in San Diego. Samuel Chinn was so
+brutally beaten in the county jail at Spokane, Washington, that he died
+from the injuries. Joseph Hillstrom was judicially murdered within the
+walls of the penitentiary at Salt Lake City, Utah. Anna Lopeza, a textile
+worker, was shot and killed, and two other Fellow Workers were murdered
+during the strike at Lawrence, Massachusetts. Frank Little, a cripple, was
+lynched by hirelings of the Copper Trust at Butte, Montana. John Looney,
+A. Robinowitz, Hugo Gerlot, Gustav Johnson, Felix Baron, and others were
+killed by a mob of Lumber Trust gunmen on the Steamer Verona at the dock
+at Everett, Washington. J. A. Kelly was arrested and re-arrested at
+Seattle, Washington; finally died from the effects of the frightful
+treatment he received. Four members of the I. W. W. were killed at Grabow,
+Louisiana, where thirty were shot and seriously wounded. Two members were
+dragged to death behind an automobile at Ketchikan, Alaska.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;These are but a few of the many who have given up their lives on the
+altar of Greed, sacrificed in the ages-long struggle for Industrial
+Freedom.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;We charge that many thousands of members of this organization have been
+imprisoned, on most occasions arrested without warrant and held without
+charge. To verify this statement it is but necessary that you read the
+report of the Commission on Industrial Relations wherein is given
+testimony of those who know of conditions at Lawrence, Massachusetts,
+where nearly 900 men and women were thrown into prison during the Textile
+Workers&rsquo; Strike at that place. This same report recites the fact that
+during the Silk Workers&rsquo; Strike at Paterson, New Jersey, nearly 1,900 men
+and women were cast into jail without charge or reason. Throughout the
+northwest these kinds of outrages have been continually perpetrated
+against members of the I. W. W. County jails and city prisons in nearly
+every state in the Union have held or are holding members of this
+organization.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;We charge that members of the I. W. W. have been tarred and feathered.
+Frank H. Meyers was tarred and feathered by a gang of prominent citizens
+at North Yakima, Washington. D. S. Dietz was tarred and feathered by a mob
+led by representatives of the Lumber Trust at Sedro, Wooley, Washington.
+John L. Metzen, attorney for the Industrial Workers of the World, was
+tarred and feathered and severely beaten by a mob of citizens of Staunton,
+Illinois. At Tulsa, Oklahoma, a mob of bankers and other business men
+gathered up seventeen members of the I. W. W., loaded them in automobiles,
+carried them out of town to a patch of woods, and there tarred and
+feathered and beat them with rope.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;We charge that members of the Industrial Workers of the World have been
+deported, and cite the cases of Bisbee, Arizona, where 1,164 miners, many
+of them members of the I. W. W., and their friends, were dragged out of
+their homes, loaded upon box cars, and sent out of the camp. They were
+confined for months at Columbus, New Mexico. Many cases are now pending
+against the copper companies and business men of Bisbee. A large number of
+members were deported from Jerome, Arizona. Seven members of the I. W. W.
+were deported from Florence, Oregon, and were lost for days in the woods,
+Tom Lassiter, a crippled news vender, was taken out in the middle of the
+night and badly beaten by a mob for selling the Liberator and other
+radical papers.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;We charge that members of the I. W. W. have been cruelly and inhumanly
+beaten. Hundreds of members can show scars upon their lacerated bodies
+that were inflicted upon them when they were compelled to run the
+gauntlet. Joe Marko and many others were treated in this fashion at San
+Diego, California. James Rowan was nearly beaten to death at Everett,
+Washington. At Lawrence, Massachusetts, the thugs of the Textile Trust
+beat men and women who had been forced to go on strike to get a little
+more of the good things of life. The shock and cruel whipping which they
+gave one little Italian woman caused her to give premature birth to a
+child. At Red Lodge, Montana, a member&rsquo;s home was invaded and he was hung
+by the neck before his screaming wife and children. At Franklin, New
+Jersey, August 29, 1917, John Avila, an I. W. W., was taken in broad
+daylight by the chief of police and an auto-load of business men to a
+woods near the town and there hung to a tree. He was cut down before death
+ensued, and badly beaten. It was five hours before Avila regained
+consciousness, after which the town &lsquo;judge&rsquo; sentenced him to three months
+at hard labor.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;We charge that members of the I. W. W. have been starved. This statement
+can be verified by the conditions existing in most any county jail where
+members of the I. W. W. are confined. A very recent instance is at Topeka,
+Kansas, where members were compelled to go on a hunger strike as a means
+of securing food for themselves that would sustain life. Members have been
+forced to resort to the hunger strike as a means of getting better food in
+many places. You are requested to read the story written by Winthrop D.
+Lane, which appears in the Sept. 6, 1919, number of &lsquo;The Survey.&rsquo; This
+story is a graphic description of the county jails in Kansas.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;We charge that I. W. W. members have been denied the right of
+citizenship, and in each instance the judge frankly told the applicants
+that they were refused on account of membership in the Industrial Workers
+of the World, accompanying this with abusive remarks; members were denied
+their citizenship papers by judge Hanford at Seattle, Washington, and
+judge Paul O&rsquo;Boyle at Scranton, Pennsylvania.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;We charge that members of the I. W. W. have been denied the privilege of
+defense. This being an organization of working men who had little or no
+funds of their own, it was necessary to appeal to the membership and the
+working class generally for funds to provide a proper defense. The postal
+authorities, acting under orders from the Postmaster-General at
+Washington, D. C., have deliberately prevented the transportation of our
+appeals, our subscription lists, our newspapers. These have been piled up
+in the postoffices and we have never received a return of the stamps
+affixed for mailing.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;We charge that the members of the I. W. W. have been held in exorbitant
+bail. As an instance there is the case of Pietro Pierre held in the county
+jail at Topeka, Kansas. His bond was fixed at $5,000, and when the amount
+was tendered it was immediately raised to $10,000. This is only one of the
+many instances that could be recorded.
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;We charge that members of the I. W. W. have been compelled to submit to
+involuntary servitude. This does not refer to members confined in the
+penitentiaries, but would recall the reader&rsquo;s attention to an I. W. W.
+member under arrest in Birmingham, Alabama, taken from the prison and
+placed on exhibition at a fair given in that city where admission of
+twenty-five cents was charged to see the I. W. W.&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<p>
+Finally, for the benefit of the reader who asks how it happens that such
+incidents are not more generally known to the public, I will reprint the
+following, from pages 382-383 of &ldquo;The Brass Check,&rdquo; dealing with the &ldquo;New
+York Times,&rdquo; and its treatment of the writer&rsquo;s novel, &ldquo;Jimmie Higgins&rdquo;:
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;In the last chapters of this story an American soldier is represented as
+being tortured in an American military prison. Says the &lsquo;Times&rsquo;:
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;&lsquo;Mr. Sinclair should produce the evidence upon which he bases his
+astounding accusations, if he has any. If he has simply written on hearsay
+evidence, or, worse still, let himself be guided by his craving to be
+sensational, he has laid himself open not only to censure but to
+punishment.&rsquo; 
+</p>
+<p>
+&ldquo;In reply to this, I send to the &lsquo;Times&rsquo; a perfectly respectful letter,
+citing scores of cases, and telling the &lsquo;Times&rsquo; where hundreds of other
+cases may be found. The &lsquo;Times&rsquo; returns this letter without comment. A
+couple of months pass, and as a result of the ceaseless agitation of the
+radicals, there is a congressional investigation, and evidence of
+atrocious cruelties is forced into the newspapers. The &lsquo;Times&rsquo; publishes
+an editorial entitled, &lsquo;Prison Camp Cruelties,&rsquo; the first sentence of
+which reads: &lsquo;The fact that American soldiers confined in prison-camps
+have been treated with extreme brutality may now be regarded as
+established.&rsquo; So again I write a polite letter to the &lsquo;Times,&rsquo; pointing
+out that I think they owe me an apology. And how does the &lsquo;Times&rsquo; treat
+that? It alters my letter without my permission. It cuts out my request
+for an apology, and also my quotation of its own words calling for my
+punishment! The &lsquo;Times,&rsquo; caught in a hole, refuses to let me remind its
+readers that it wanted me &lsquo;punished&rsquo; for telling the truth! &lsquo;All the News
+that&rsquo;s Fit to Print!&rsquo;&rdquo;
+ </p>
+<div style="height: 6em;">
+<br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br />
+</div>
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+<pre>
+
+
+
+
+
+End of Project Gutenberg&rsquo;s 100%: The Story of a Patriot, by Upton Sinclair
+
+*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 100%: THE STORY OF A PATRIOT ***
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+</pre>
+
+</body>
+</html>
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