§ 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.
