There was only one person whom Peter could take into
his confidence, and that was McGivney. Peter
could not conceal from McGivney the fact that he was
troubled over his bereavement; and so McGivney took
him in hand and gave him a “jacking up.”
It was dangerous work, this of holding down the Reds;
dangerous, because their doctrines were so insidious,
they were so devilishly cunning in their working upon
people’s minds. McGivney had seen more than
one fellow start fooling with their ideas and turn
into one himself. Peter must guard against that
danger.
“It ain’t that,” Peter explained.
“It ain’t their ideas. It’s
just that I was soft on that kid.”
“Well, it comes to the same thing,” said
McGivney. “You get sorry for them, and
the first thing you know, you’re listening to
their arguments. Now, Peter, you’re one
of the best men I’ve got on this case—and
that’s saying a good deal, because I’ve
got charge of seventeen.” The rat-faced
man was watching Peter, and saw Peter flush with pleasure.
Yes, he continued, Peter had a future before him,
he would make all kinds of money, he would be given
responsibility, a permanent position. But he might
throw it all away if he got to fooling with these
Red doctrines. And also, he ought to understand,
he could never fool McGivney; because McGivney had
spies on him!
So Peter clenched his hands and braced himself up.
Peter was a real “he-man,” and wasn’t
going to waste himself. “It’s just
that I can’t help missing the girl!” he
explained; to which the other answered: “Well,
that’s only natural. What you want to do
is to get yourself another one.”
Peter went on with his work in the office of the Goober
Defense Committee. The time for the trial had
come, and the struggle between the two giants had
reached its climax. The district attorney, who
was prosecuting the case, and who was expecting to
become governor of the state on the strength of it,
had the backing of half a dozen of the shrewdest lawyers
in the city, their expenses being paid by the big
business men. A small army of detectives were
at work, and the court where the trial took place
was swarming with spies and agents. Every one
of the hundreds of prospective jurors had been investigated
and card-cataloged, his every weakness and every prejudice
recorded; not merely had his psychology been studied,
but his financial status, and that of his relatives
and friends. Peter had met half a dozen other
agents beside McGivney, men who had come to question
him about this or that detail; and from the conversation
of these men he got glimpses of the endless ramifications
of the case. It seemed to him that the whole
of American City had been hired to help send Jim Goober
to the gallows.
