§ 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 bad 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.
