§ 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."
