§ 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!"
