“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.
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.