And later on I had company in these unaccustomed emotions; the crowd
gave way, and who should come into the room but Mary Magna! She did
not speak to either of us, but slipped to one side and stood in
silence--while the crowd watched her furtively out of the corner of
its eyes, thinking her some foreign princess, with her bold, dark
beauty and her costly attire. I went over to her, whispering, "How
did you get here?" She explained that, when we did not arrive at the
studios, she had called up the Stebbins home and learned about the
accident. "They warned me not to come here, because this man was a
terrible Bolshevik; he made a blood-thirsty speech to the mob. What
did he say?"

I started to tell; but I was interrupted by a piercing shriek. A
sick and emaciated young girl with paralyzed limbs had been carried
into the room. They had laid her on the couch, from which the child
had been taken away, and Carpenter had put his hands upon her. At
once the girl had risen up--and here she stood, her hands flung into
the air, literally screaming her triumphant joy. Of course the crowd
took it up--these primitive people are always glad of a chance to
make a big noise, so the whole room was in a clamor, and Carpenter
had hard work to extract himself from the throng which wished to
touch his hands and his clothing, and to worship him on their knees.

He came over to us, and smiled. "Is not this better than acting,
Mary?

"Yes, surely--if one can do it."

Said he: "Everyone could do it, if they knew."

"Is that really true?" she asked, with passionate earnestness.

"There is a god in every man, and in every woman."

"Why don't they know it, then?"

"There is a god, and also a beast. The beast is old, and familiar,
and powerful; the god is new, and strange, and afraid. Because of
his fear, the beast kills him."

"What is the beast?"

"His name is self; and he has many forms. In men he is greed; in
women he is vanity, and goes attired in much raiment--the chains,
and the bracelets, and the mufflers--"

"Oh, don't!" cried Mary, wildly.

"Very well, Mary; I won't." And he didn't. But, looking at Mary, it
seemed that she was just as unhappy as if he had.

He turned to an old man who had hobbled into the room on crutches.
"Poor old comrade! Poor old friend!" His voice seemed to break with
pity. "They have worked you like an old mule, until your skin is
cracked and your joints grown hard; but they have not been so kind
to you as to an old mule--they have left you to suffer!"

To a pale young woman who staggered towards him, coughing, he cried:
"What can I do for you? They are starving you to death! You need
food--and I have no food to give!" He raised his arms, in sudden
wrath. "Bring forth the masters of this city, who starve the poor,
while they themselves riot in wantonness!"

But the members of the Chamber of Commerce and of the Bankers'
Association of Western City were not within hearing, nor are their
numbers as a rule to be found in the telephone book. Carpenter
looked about the place, now lined pretty well with cripples and
invalids. Only a couple of hours of spreading rumor had been needed
to bring them forth, unholy and dreadful secrets, dragged from the
dark corners and back alley-ways of these tenements. He gazed from
one crooked and distorted face to another, and put his hand to his
forehead with a gesture of despair. "No, no!" he said. "It is of no
use!" He lifted his voice, calling once more to the masters of the
city. "You make them faster than I can heal them! You make them by
machinery--and he who would help them must break the machine!"

He turned to me; and I was startled, for it was as if he had been
inside my mind. "I know, it will not be easy! But remember, I broke
the empire of Rome!"

That was his last flare. "I can do no more," he whispered. "My power
is gone from me; I must rest." And his voice gave way. "I beg you to
go, unhappy poor of the world! I have done all that I can do for you
tonight."

And silently, patiently, as creatures accustomed to the voice of
doom, the sick and the crippled began to hobble and crawl from the
room.



XXII


He sat on the edge of the couch, gazing into space, lost in tragic
thought; and Mary and I sat watching him, not quite certain whether
we ought to withdraw with the rest. But he did not seem aware of our
presence, so we stayed.

In our world it is not considered permissible for people to remain
in company without talking. If the talk lags, we have to cast
hurriedly about in our minds for something to say--it is called
"making conversation." But Carpenter evidently did not know about
this custom, and neither of us instructed him. Once or twice I stole
a glance at Mary, marvelling at her. All her life she had been a
conversational volcano, in a state of perpetual eruption; but now,
apparently she passed judgment on her own remarks, and found them
not worth making.

In the doorway of the room appeared the little boy who had been
knocked down by the car. He looked at Carpenter, and then came
towards him. When Carpenter saw him, a smile of welcome came upon
his face; he stretched out an arm, and the little fellow nestled in
it. Other children appeared in the doorway, and soon he had a group
about him, sitting on his knees and on the couch. They were little
gutter-urchins, but he, seemingly, was interested in knowing their
names and their relationships, what they learned in school, and what
games they played. I think he had Bertie's foot-ball crowd in mind,
for he said: "Some day they will teach you games of love and
friendship, instead of rivalry and strife."

Presently the mother of the household appeared. She was distressed,
because it did not seem possible that a great man should be
interested in the prattle of children, when he had people like us,
evidently rich people, to talk to. "You will bother the master," she
said, in Spanish. He seemed to understand, and answered, "Let the
children stay with me. They teach me that the world might be happy."

So the prattle went on, and the woman stood in the doorway, with
other women behind her, all beaming with delight. They had known all
their lives there was something especially remarkable about these
children; and here was their pride confirmed! When the little ones
laughed, and the stranger laughed with them, you should have seen
the pleasure shining from a doorway full of dusky Mexican faces!

But after a while one of the children began to rub his eyes, and the
mother exclaimed--it was so late! The children had stayed awake
because of the excitement, but now they must go to bed. She bundled
them out of the room, and presently came back, bearing a glass of
milk and a plate with bread and an orange on it. The master might be
hungry, she said, with a humble little bow. In her halting English
she offered to bring something to us, but she did not suppose we
would care for poor people's food. She took it for granted that
"poor people's food" was what Carpenter would want; and apparently
she was right, for he ate it with relish. Meantime he tried to get
the woman to sit on the couch beside him; but she would not sit in
his presence--or was it in the presence of Mary and me? I had a
feeling, as she withdrew, that she might have been glad to chat with
him, if a million-dollar movie queen and a spoiled young club man
had not been there to claim prior rights.



XXIII


So presently we three were alone once more; and Mary, gazing
intently with those big dark eyes that the public knows so well,
opened up: "Tell me, Mr. Carpenter! Have you ever been in love?"

I was startled, but if Carpenter was, he gave no sign. "Mary," he
said, "I have been in grief." Then thinking, perhaps, that he had
been abrupt, he added: "You, Mary--you have been in love?"

She answered: "No." I'm not sure if I said anything out loud, but my
thought was easy to read, and she turned upon me. "You don't know
what love is. But a woman knows, even though she doesn't act it."

"Well, of course," I replied; "if you want to go into metaphysics--"

"Metaphysics be damned!" said Mary, and turned again to Carpenter.

Said he: "A good woman like you--"

"_Me_?" cried Mary. And she laughed, a wild laugh. "Don't hit me
when you've got me down! I've sold myself for every job I ever got;
I sold myself for every jewel you saw on me this afternoon. You
notice I've got them off now!"

"I don't understand, Mary," he said, gently. "Why does a woman like
you sell herself?"

"What else has she got? I was a rat in a tenement. I could have been
a drudge, but I wasn't made for that. I sold myself for a job in a
store, and then for ribbons to be pretty, and then for a place in
the chorus, and then for a speaking part--so on all the way. Now I
portray other women selling themselves. They get fancy prices, and
so do I, and that makes me a 'star.' I hope you'll never see my
pictures."

I sat watching this scene, marvelling more than ever. That tone in
Mary Magna's voice was a new one to me; perhaps she had not used it
since she played her last "speaking part!" I thought to myself,
there was a crisis impending in the screen industry.

Said Carpenter: "What are you going to do about it, Mary?"

"What can I do? My contract has seven years to run."

"Couldn't you do something honest? I mean, couldn't you tell an
honest story in your pictures?"

"Me? My God! Tell that to T-S, and watch his face! Why, they hunt
all the world over for some new kind of clothes for me to take off;
they search all history for some war I can cause, some empire I can
wreck. Me play an honest woman? The public would call it a joke, and
the screen people would call it indecent."

Carpenter got up, and began to pace the room. "Mary," said he, "I
once lived under the Roman empire--"

"Yes, I know. I was Cleopatra, and again I was Nero's mistress while
he watched the city burning."

"Rome was rough, and crude, and poor, Mary. Rome was nothing to
this. This is Satan on my Father's throne, making new worlds for
himself." He paced the room again, then turned and said: "I don't
understand this world. I must know more about it, if I am to save
it!" There was such grief, such selfless pity in his voijce as he
repeated this: "I must know more!"

"You know everything!" exclaimed Mary, suddenly. "You are all
wisdom!"

But he went on, speaking as if to himself, pondering his problem:
"To serve others, yet not to indulge them; for the cause of their
enslavment is that they have accepted service without return. And
how shall one preach patience to the poor, when the masters make
such preaching a new means of enslavement?" He looked at me, as if
he thought that I could answer his question. Then with sudden energy
he exclaimed: "I must meet those who are in rebellion against
enslavement! Tomorrow I want to meet the strikers--all the strikers
in your city."

"You'll have your hands full," I said--for I was a coward, and
wanted to keep him out of it.

"How shall I find them?" he persisted.

"I don't know; I suppose their headquarters are at the Labor
Temple."

"I will go there. Meantime, I fear I shall have to be alone. I need
to think about the things I have learned."

"Where are you going to stay?"

"I don't know."

Said Mary, hesitatingly: "My car is outside--"

He answered: "In ancient days I saw the young patricians drive
through the streets in their chariots; no, I shall not ride with
them again."

Said I: "I have an apartment at the club, with plenty of room--"

"No, no, friend. I have seen enough of the masters of this city.
From now on, if you want to see me, you will find me among the
poor."

"If I may meet you in the morning," I said--"to show you to the
Labor Temple--" Yes, I would see him through!

"By all means," said he. "But you must come early, for I cannot
delay."

"Where shall I come?"

"Come here. I am sure these people will give me shelter." He looked
about him. "I suspect that some of them sleep in this room; but they
have a little porch outside, and if they will let me stay there I
shall be alone, which is what I want now." After a moment, he added,
"What I wish to do is to pray. Have you ever tried prayer, Mary?"

She answered, simply, "I wouldn't know how."

"Come to me, and I will teach you," he said.



XXIV


I went early next morning, but not early enough. The Mexican woman
told me that "the master" had waited, and finally had gone. He had
asked the way to the Labor Temple, and left word that I would find
him there. So I stepped back into my taxi, and told the driver to
take the most direct route.

Meantime I kept watch for my friend, and I did not have to watch
very long. There was a crowd ahead, the street was blocked, and a
premonition came to me: "Good Lord, I'm too late--he's got into some
new mess!" I leaned out of the window, and sure enough, there he was
standing on the tail-end of a truck, haranguing a crowd which packed
the street from one line of houses to the other. "And before he got
half way to the Labor Temple!" I thought to myself.

I got out, and paid the driver of the taxi, and pushed into the
crowd. Now and then I caught a few words of what Carpenter was
telling them, and it seemed quite harmless--that they were all
brothers, that they should love one another, and not do one another
injustice. What could there have been that made him think it
necessary to deliver this message before breakfast? I looked about,
noting that it was the Hebrew quarter of the city, plastered with
signs with queer, spattered-up letters. I thought: "Holy smoke! Is
he going to convert the Jews?"

I pushed my way farther into the crowd, and saw a policeman, and
went up to him. "Officer, what's this all about?" I spoke as one
wearing the latest cut of clothes, and he answered accordingly.
"Search me! They brought us out on a riot call, but when we got
here, it seems to have turned into a revival meeting."

I got part of the story from this policeman, and part from a couple
of bystanders. It appeared that some Jewish lady, getting her
shopping done early, had complained of getting short weight, and the
butcher had ordered her out of his shop, and she had stopped to
express her opinion of profiteers, and he had thrown her out, and
she had stood on the sidewalk and shrieked until all the ladies in
this crowded quarter had joined her. Their fury against soaring
prices and wages that never kept up with them, had burst all bounds,
and they had set out to clean up the butcher-shop with the butcher.
So there was Carpenter, on his way to the Labor Temple, with another
mob to quell!

"You know how it is," said the policeman. "It really does cost these
poor devils a lot to live, and they say prices are going down, but I
can't see it anywhere but in the papers."

"Well," said I, "I guess you were glad enough to have somebody do
this job."

He grinned. "You bet! I've tackled crowds of women before this, and
you don't like to hit them, but they claw into your face if you
don't. I guess the captain will let this bird spout for a bit, even
if he does block the traffic."

We listened for a minute. "Bear in mind, my friends, I am come among
you; and I shall not desert you. I give you my justice, I give you
my freedom. Your cause is my cause, world without end. Amen."

"Now wouldn't that jar you?" remarked the "copper." "Holy Christ, if
you'd hear some of the nuts we have to listen to on street-corners!
What do you suppose that guy thinks he can do, dressed up in
Abraham's nightshirt?"

Said Carpenter: "The days of the exploiter are numbered. The thrones
of the mighty are tottering, and the earth shall belong to them that
labor. He that toils not, neither shall he eat, and they that grow
fat upon the blood of the people--they shall grow lean again."

"Now what do you think o' that?" demanded the guardian of authority.
"If that ain't regular Bolsheviki talk, then I'm dopy. I'll bet the
captain don't stand much more of that."

Fortunately the captain's endurance was not put to the test. The
orator had reached the climax of his eloquence. "The kingdom of
righteousness is at hand. The word will be spoken, the way will be
made clear. Meantime, my people, I bid you go your way in peace. Let
there be no more disturbance, to bring upon you the contempt of
those who do not understand your troubles, nor share the heartbreak
of the poor. My people, take my peace with you!" He stretched out
his arms in invocation, and there was a murmur of applause, and the
crowd began slowly to disperse.

Which seemed to remind my friend the policeman that he had authority
to exercise. He began to poke his stick into the humped backs of
poor Jewish tailors, and into the ample stomachs of fat Jewish
housewives. "Come on now, get along with you, and let somebody else
have a bit o' the street." I pushed my way forward, by virtue of my
good clothes, and got through the press about Carpenter, and took
him by the arm, saying, "Come on now, let's see if we can't get to
the Labor Temple."



XXV


There was a crowd following us, of course; and I sought to keep
Carpenter busy in conversation, to indicate that the crowd was not
wanted. But before we had gone half a block I felt some one touch me
on the arm, and heard a voice, saying, "I beg pardon, I'm a reporter
for the 'Evening Blare'."

Now, of course, I had known this must come; I had realized that I
would be getting myself in for it, if I went to join Carpenter that
morning. I had planned to warn him, to explain to him what our
newspapers are; but how could I have foreseen that he was going to
get into a riot before breakfast, and bring out the police reserves
and the police reporters?

"Excuse us," I said, coldly. "We have something urgent--"

"I just want to get something of this gentleman's speech--"

"We are on our way to the Labor Temple. If you will come there in a
couple of hours, we will give you an interview."

"But I must have a story for our first edition, that goes to press
before that."

I had Carpenter by the arm, and kept him firmly walking. I could not
get rid of the reporter, but I was resolved to get my warning
spoken, regardless of anything. Said I: "This is a matter extremely
urgent for you to understand, Mr. Carpenter. This young man
represents a newspaper, and anything you say to him will be read in
the course of a few hours by perhaps a hundred thousand people. If
it is found especially senational, the Continental Press may put it
on its wires, and it will go to several hundred papers all over the
country--"

"Twelve hundred and thirty-seven papers," corrected the young man.

"So you see, it is necessary that you should be careful what you
say--far more so than if you were speaking to a handful of Mexican
laborers or Jewish housewives."

Said Carpenter: "I don't understand what you mean. When I speak, I
speak the truth."

"Yes, of course," I replied--and meantime I was racking my poor wits
figuring out how to present this strange acquaintance of mine most
tactfully to the world. I knew the reporter would not tarry long; he
would grab a few sentences, and rush away to telephone them in.

"I'll tell you what I'm free to tell," I began. "This gentleman is a
healer, a man of very remarkable gifts. Mental healing, you
understand."

"I get you," said the reporter. "Some religion?"

"Mr. Carpenter teaches a new religion."

"I see. A sort of prophet! And where does he come from?"

I tried to evade. "He has just arrived--"

But the blood-hound of the press was not going to be evaded. "Where
do you come from, sir?" he demanded, of Carpenter.

To which Carpenter answered, promptly: "From God."

"From God? Er--oh, I see. From God! Most interesting! How long ago,
may I ask?"

"Yesterday."

"Oh! That is indeed extraordinary! And this mob that you've just
been addressing--did you use some kind of mind cure on them?"

I could see the story taking shape; the headlines flamed before my
mind's eye--streamer heads, all the way across the sheet, after the
fashion of our evening papers:

PROPHET FRESH FROM GOD QUELLS MOB



XXVI


I came to a sudden decision in this crisis. The sensible thing to do
was to meet the issue boldly, and take the job of launching
Carpenter under proper auspices. He really was a wonderful man, and
deserved to be treated decently.

I addressed the reporter again. "Listen. This gentleman is a man of
remarkable gifts, and does not take money for them; so, if you are
going to tell about him at all, do it in a dignified way."

"Of course! I had no other idea--"

"Your city editor might have another idea," I remarked, drily.
"Permit me to introduce myself." I gave him my name, and saw him
start.

"You mean _the_ Mr.--" Then, giving me a swift glance, he decided it
was not necessary to complete the question.

Said I: "Here is my card," and handed it to him.

He glanced at it, and said, "I'll be very glad to explain matters to
the desk, and see that the story is handled exactly as you wish."

"Thank you," I replied. "Now, yesterday I was caught in that mob at
the picture theatre, and knocked nearly insensible. This gentleman
found me, and healed me almost instantly. Naturally, I am grateful,
and as I find that he is a teacher, who aids the poor, and will not
take money from anyone, I want to thank him publicly, and help to
make him known."

"Of course, of course!" said the reporter; and before my mind's eye
flashed a new set of headlines:

WEALTHY CLUBMAN MIRACULOUSLY HEALED

Or perhaps it would be a double head:

CLUBMAN, SLUGGED BY MOB, HEALED BY PROPHET

WEALTHY SCION, VICTIM OF PICTURE RIOT, RESTORED BY MAN FRESH FROM
GOD

I thought that was sensation enough, and that the interview would
end; but alas for my hopes! Said that blood-hound of the press:
"Will you give public healings to the people, Mr. Carpenter?"

To which Carpenter answered: "I am not interested in giving
healings."

"What? Why not?"

"Worldly and corrupt people ask me to do miracles, to prove my power
to them. But the proof I bring to the world is a new vision and a
new hope."

"Oh, I see! Your religion! May I ask about it?"

"You are the first; the world will follow you. Say to the people
that I have come to understand the nature and causes of their mobs."

"Mobs?" said the puzzled young blood-hound.

"I wish to understand a land which is governed by mobs; I wish to
know, who lives upon the madness of others."

"You have been studying a mob this morning?" inquired the reporter.

"I ask, why do the police of Mobland put down the mobs of the poor,
and not the mobs of the rich? I ask, who pays the police, and who
pays the mobs."

"I see! You are some kind of radical!" And with sickness of soul I
saw another headline before my mind's eye:

WEALTHY CLUBMAN AIDS BOLSHEVIK PROPHET

I hastened to break in: "Mr. Carpenter is not a radical; he is a
lover of man." But then I realized, that did not sound just right.
How the devil was I to describe this man? How came it that all the
phrases of brotherhood and love had come to be tainted with
"radicalism"? I tried again: "He is a friend of peace."

"Oh, really!" observed the reporter. "A pacifist, hey?" And I
thought: "Damn the hound!" I knew, of course, that he had the rest
of the formula in his head: "Pro-German!" Out loud I said: "He
teaches brotherhood."

But the hound was not interested in my generalities and evasions.
"Where have you seen mobs of the rich, Mr. Carpenter?"

"I have seen them whirling through the streets in automobiles,
killing the children of the poor."

"You have seen that?"

"I saw it last night."

Now, I had inspected our "Times" and our "Examiner" that morning,
and noted that both, in their accounts of the accident, had given
only the name of the chauffeur, and suppressed that of the owner. I
understood what an amount of social and financial pressure that feat
had taken; and here was Carpenter about to spoil it! I laid my hand
on his arm, saying: "My friend, you were a guest in that car. You
are not at liberty to talk about it."

I expected to be argued with; but Carpenter apparently conceded my
point, for he fell silent. It was the young reporter who spoke. "You
were in an auto accident, I judge? We had only one report of a
death, and that was caused by Mrs. Stebbins' car. Were you in that?"
Then, as neither Carpenter nor I replied, he laughed. "It doesn't
matter, because I couldn't use the story. Mr. Stebbins is one of our
'sacred cows.' Good-day, and thank you."

He started away; and suddenly all my terror of newspaper publicity
overwhelmed me. I simply could not face the public as guardian of a
Bolshevik! I shouted: "Young man!" And the reporter turned,
respectfully, to listen. "I tell you, Mr. Carpenter is _not_ a
radical! Get that clear!" And to the young man's skeptical
half-smile I exclaimed: "He's a Christian!" At which the reporter
laughed out loud.



XXVII


We got to the Labor Temple, and found the place in a buzz of
excitement, over what had occurred in front of Prince's last night.
I had suspected rough work on the part of the police, and here was
the living evidence--men with bandages over cracked heads, men
pulling open their shirts or pulling up their sleeves to show black
and blue bruises. In the headquarters of the Restaurant Workers we
found a crowd, jabbering in a dozen languages about their troubles;
we learned that there were eight in jail, and several in the
hospital, one not expected to live. All that had been going on,
while we sat at table gluttonizing--and while tears were running
down Carpenter's cheeks!

It seemed to me that every third man in the crowd had one of the
morning's newspapers in his hand--the newspapers which told how a
furious mob of armed ruffians had sought to break its way into
Prince's, and had with difficulty been driven off by the gallant
protectors of the law. A man would read some passage which struck
him as especially false; he would tell what he had seen or done, and
he would crumple the paper in his hand and cry. "The liars! The
dirty liars!"--adding adjectives not suitable for print.

I realized more than ever that I had made a mistake in letting
Carpenter get into this place. It was no resort for anybody who
wanted to be patriotic, or happy about the world. All sorts of
wonderful promises had been made to labor, to persuade it to win the
war; and now labor came with the blank check, duly filled out
according to its fancy--and was in process of being kicked
downstairs. Wages were being "liquidated," as the phrase had it; and
there was an endless succession of futile strikes, all pitiful
failures. You must understand that Western City is the home of the
"open shop;" the poor devils who went on strike were locked out of
the factories, and slugged off the streets; their organizations were
betrayed by spies, and their policies dedeviled by provocateurs. And
all the mass of misery resulting seemed to have crowded into one
building this bright November morning; pitiful figures, men and
women and even a few children--for some had been turned out of their
homes, and had no place to go; ragged, haggard, and underfed;
weeping, some of them, with pain, or lifting their clenched hands in
a passion of impotent fury. My friend T-S, the king of the movies,
with all his resources, could not have made a more complete picture
of human misery--nor one more fitted to work on the sensitive soul
of a prophet, and persuade him that capitalist America was worse
than imperial Rome.

The arrival of Carpenter attracted no particular attention. The
troubles of these people were too recent for them to be aware of
anything else. All they wanted was some one to tell their troubles
to, and they quickly found that this stranger was available for the
purpose. He asked many questions, and before long had a crowd about
him--as if he were some sort of government commissioner, conducting
an investigation. It was an all day job, apparently; I hung round,
trying to keep myself inconspicuous.

Towards noon came a boy with newspapers, and I bought the early
edition of the "Evening Blare." Yes, there it was--all the way
across the front page; not even a big fire at the harbor and an
earthquake in Japan had been able to displace it. As I had foreseen,
the reporter had played up the most sensational aspects of the
matter: Carpenter announced himself as a prophet only twenty-four
hours out of God's presence, and proved it by healing the lame and
the halt and the blind--and also by hypnotising everyone he spoke
to, from a wealthy young clubman to a mob of Jewish housewives.
Incidentally he denounced America as "Mobland," and called it a
country governed by madmen.

I took the paper to him, thinking to teach him a little worldly
prudence. Said I: "You remember, I tried to keep out that stuff
about mobs--"

He took the sheet from my hands and looked at the headlines. I saw
his nostrils dilate, and his eyes flash. "Mobs? This paper is a mob!
It is the worst of your mobs!" And it fell to the floor, and he put
his foot on the flaring print.

Said he: "You talk about mobs--listen to this." Then, to one of the
group about him: "Tell how they mobbed you!" The man thus addressed,
a little Russian tailor named Korwsky, narrated in his halting
English that he was the secretary of the tailors' union, and they
had a strike, and a few days ago their offices had been raided at
night, the door "jimmed" open and the desk rifled of all the papers
and records. Evidently it had been done by the bosses or their
agents, for nothing had been taken but papers which would be of use
against the strike. "Dey got our members' list," said Korwsky. "Dey
send people to frighten 'em back to verk! Dey call loans, dey git
girls fired from stores if dey got jobs--dey hound 'em every way!"

The speaker went on to declare that no such job could have been
pulled off without the police knowing; yet they made no move to
arrest the criminals. His voice trembled with indignation; and
Carpenter turned to me.

"You have mobs that come at night, with dark lanterns and burglars'
tools!"

I had noticed among the men talking to Carpenter one who bore a
striking resemblance to him. He was tall and not too well nourished;
but instead of the prophet's robes of white and amethyst, he wore
the clothes of a working-man, a little too short in the sleeves; and
where Carpenter had a soft and silky brown beard, this man had a
skinny Adam's apple that worked up and down. He was something of an
agitator, I judged, and he appeared to have a religious streak. "I
am a Christian," I heard him say; "but one of the kind that speak
out against injustice. And I can show you Bible texts for it," he
insisted. "I can prove it by the word of God."

This man's name was James, and I learned that he was one of the
striking carpenters. The prophet turned to him, and said: "Tell him
your story." So the other took from his pocket a greasy note-book,
and produced a newspaper clipping, quoting an injunction which Judge
Wollcott had issued against his union. "Read that," said he; but I
answered that I knew about it. I remember hearing my uncle laughing
over the matter at the dinner-table, saying that "Bobbie" Wollcott
had forbidden the strikers to do everything but sit on air and walk
on water. And now I got another view of "Bobbie," this time from a
prophet fresh from God. Said the prophet: "Your judges are mobs!"



XXVIII


Soon after the noon-hour, there pushed his way into the crowd a
young man, whom I recognized as one of the secretaries of T-S. He
was looking for me, and told me in a whisper that his employer was
downstairs in his car, and wanted to see Mr. Carpenter and myself
about something important. He did not want to come up, because it
was too conspicuous. Would we come down and take a little drive? I
answered that I should be willing, but I knew Carpenter would
not--he had been in an automobile accident the night before, and had
refused to ride again.

Then, said the secretary, was there some room where we could meet? I
went to one of the officials, and asked for a vacant room where I
could talk about a private matter with a friend. I managed to
separate Carpenter from his crowd and took him to the room, and
presently Everett, the secretary, came with T-S.

The great man shook hands cordially with both of us; then, looking
round to make sure that no one heard us, he began: "Mr. Carpenter, I
told you I vould give a tousand dollars to dese strikers."

The other's face, which had looked so grey and haggard, was suddenly
illumined as if by his magical halo. "I had forgotten it! There are
so many hungry in there; I have been watching them, wondering when
they would be fed."

"All right," said T-S. "Here you are." And reaching into his pocket,
he produced a wad of new shiny hundred dollar notes, folded
together. "Count 'em."

Carpenter took the money in his hand. "So this is it!" he said. He
looked at it, as if he were inspecting some strange creature from
the wilds of Patagonia.

"It's de real stuff," said T-S, with a grin.

"The stuff for which men sell their souls, and women their virtue!
For which you starve and beat and torture one another--"

"Ain't it pretty?" said the magnate, not a bit embarrassed.

The other began reading the writing on the notes--as you may
remember having done in some far-off time of childhood. "Whose
picture is this?" he asked.

"I dunno," said the magnate. "De Secretary of de Treasury, I
reckon."

"But," said the other, "why not your picture, Mr. T-S?"

"Mine?"

"Of course."

"My picture on de money?"

"Why not? You are the one who makes it, and enables everyone else to
make it."

It was one of those brand new ideas that come only to geniuses and
children. I could see that T-S had never thought of it before; also,
that he found it interesting to think of. Carpenter went on: "If
your picture was on it, then every one would know what it meant.
People would say: 'Render unto T-S the things that are T-S's.' When
you were paying off your mobs, you would pay them with your own
money, and whenever they spent it, the people would bow to Caesar--I
mean to T-S."

He said it without the trace of a smile; and T-S had no idea there
was a smile anywhere in the neighborhood. In a business-like tone he
said: "I'll tink about it." Then he went on: "You give it to de
strikers--"

But Carpenter interrupted: "It was you who were going to give it. I
cannot give nor take money."

"You mean you von't take it to dem?"

"I couldn't possibly do it, Mr. T-S."

"But, man--"

"Your promise was that _you_ would come and give it. Now do so."

"But, Mr. Carpenter, if I vas to do such a ting, it vould cost me a
million dollars. I vould git into a row vit de Merchants' and
Manufacturers' Association, dey vould boycott my business, dey vould
give me a black eye all over de country. You dunno vot you're
askin', Mr. Carpenter."

"I understand then--you are in business alliance with men who are
starving these people into submission, and you are afraid to help
them? Afraid to feed the poor!" The far-off, wondering look came
again to his face. "The world is organized!" he said, to himself.
"There is a mob of masters! What can I do to save the people?"

T-S was unchanged in his cheerful good-nature. "You give dem a
tousand dollars and you help a lot. Nobody can do it all."

But Carpenter was not satisfied; he shook his head, sadly. "Please
take this," he said, and pressed the roll of bills back into the
hands of the astounded magnate!



XXIX


However, T-S had come there to get something that day, and I thought
I knew what it was. He swallowed his consternation, and all the rest
of his emotions. "Now, now, Mr. Carpenter! Ve ain't a-goin' to
quarrel about a ting like dat. Dem fellers is hungry, and de money
vill give dem vun good feed. Ve git somebody to bring it to dem, and
we be friends shoost de same. Billy, maybe you could give it, hey?"

I drew back with a laugh. "You don't get me into your quarrels!"

"Vell," said T-S--and suddenly he had an inspiration. "I know. I git
Mary Magna to give it! She's a voman!"

Carpenter turned with sudden wonder. "Then women are permitted to
have hearts?"

"Shoost so, Mr. Carpenter! Ha, ha, ha! Ve business fellers--my Gawd,
if you knew vot business is, you'd vunder we got hearts enough to
keep our blood movin'."

"Business," said Carpenter, still pondering. "Then it's business--"

"Yes, business--" put in T-S. "Dat's it!" And he lowered his voice,
and looked round once more. "It's time we vas talkin' business now!
Mr. Carpenter, I be frank vit you, I put all my cards on de table. I
seen de papers shoost now, vot vunderful tings you do--healin' de
sick and quellin' de mobs and all dat--and I tink I gotta raise my
offer, Mr. Carpenter. If you sign a contract I got here in my
pocket, I pay you a tousand dollars a veek. Vot you say, my friend?"

Carpenter did not say anything, and so the magnate began to
expatiate upon the artistic triumphs he would achieve. "I make such
a picture fer you as de vorld never seen before. You can do shoost
vot you vant in dat story--all de tings you like to do, and nuttin'
you didn't like. I never said dat to no man before, but I know you
now, Mr. Carpenter, and all I ask you is to heal de sick and quell
de mobs, shoost like today. I pledge you my vord--I put it in de
contract if you say so--I make nuttin' but Bible pictures."

"That is very kind of you, Mr. T-S, and I thank you for the
compliment; but I fear you will have to get some one else to play my
part."

Said T-S: "I vant you to tink, Mr. Carpenter, vot it vould mean if
you had a tousand dollars every week. You could feed all de babies
of de strikers. I vouldn't care vot you did--you could feed my own
strikers, ven I git some at Eternal City. A tousand dollars a veek
is an awful pile o' money to have!"

"I know that, my friend."

"And vot's more, I pay you five tousand cash on de signin' of de
contract. You can go right in now vit dese strikers--maybe you could
beat Prince's vit all dat money!" Then, as Carpenter still shook his
head: "I give you vun more raise, my friend--but dat's de last, you
gotta believe me. I pay you fifteen hunded a veek. I aint ever paid
so much money to a green actor in my life before, and I don't tink
anybody else in de business ever did."

But still Carpenter shook his head!

"Vould you mind tellin' me vy, Mr. Carpenter?"

"Not at all. You tell me that I may quell mobs for you. But there
are mobs in your business that I could not quell."

"Vot mobs?"

"Among others, yourself."

"Me?"

"Yes--you are a mob; a mob of money! You storm the souls of men, and
of women too. It will take a stronger force than I to quell you."

"I don't git you," said T-S, helplessly; but then, thinking it over
a bit, he went on: "I guess I'm a vulgar feller, Mr. Carpenter, and
maybe all my pictures ain't vot you call high-brow. But if I had a
man like you to vork vit, I could make vot you call real educational
pictures. You're vot dey call a prophet, you got a message fer de
vorld; vell, vy don't you let me spread it fer you? If you use my
machinery, you can talk to a billion people. Dat's no joke--if dey
is dat many alive, I bring 'em to you; I bring de Japs and de Chinks
and de niggers--de vooly-headed savages vot vould eat your
missionaries if you sent 'em. I offer you de whole vorld, Mr.
Carpenter; and you vould be de boss!"

Carpenter became suddenly grave. "My friend," said he, "a long time
ago there was a prophet, and he was offered the world. The story is
told us--'Again, the devil taketh him up into an exceeding high
mountain, and sheweth him all the kingdoms of the world, and the
glory of them; and saith unto him, All these things will I give
thee, if thou wilt fall down and worship me.' You recall that story,
Mr. T-S?"

"No," said T-S, "I ain't vun o' dese litry fellers." But he realized
that the story was not complimentary to him, and he showed his
chagrin. "I tell you vun ting, Mr. Carpenter, if you vas to know me
better, you vouldn't call me a devil."

And suddenly the other put his hand on the great man's shoulder. "I
believe that, my friend; I hate the sin but love the sinner--And so,
suppose you come to lunch with me?"

"Lunch?" said T-S, taken aback.

"I went to dinner with you last night. Now you come to lunch with
me."

"Vere at, Mr. Carpenter?"

Said Carpenter: "When I went with you, I did not ask where."

Carpenter signed to me and to Everett, the secretary, and the four
of us went out of the room. I was as much mystified as the picture
magnate, but I held my peace, and Carpenter led us to the elevator,
and down to the street. "No," said he, to T-S, "there is no need to
get into your car. The place is just around the corner." And he put
his arm in that of the magnate, and led him down the
street--somewhat to the embarrassment of his victim, for there was a
crowd following us. People had read the afternoon papers by now, and
it was no longer possible to walk along unheeded, with a prophet
only twenty-four hours from God, who healed the sick and quelled
mobs before breakfast. But T-S set his teeth and bore it--hoping
this might be the way to land his contract.



XXX


We turned the corner, and soon I saw what was before us, and almost
cried out with glee. It was really too good to be true! Carpenter,
in the course of his talks with strikers, had learned where their
soup-kitchen was located, the relief-headquarters where their
families were being fed; and he now had the sublime audacity to take
the picture magnate to lunch among them!

The place was an empty warehouse, fitted with long tables, and
benches made of planks that were old and full of splinters. Here in
rows of twenty or thirty were seated men and women and children,
mixed together; before each one a bowl of not very thick soup, and a
hunk of bread, and a tin cup full of hot brown liquid, politely
taken for coffee. It was a meal which would have been spurned by any
of the "studio bums" of T-S's mob-scenes; but now T-S was going to
be a good sport, and sit on a splintery plank and eat it!

Nor was that all. As we pushed our way into the place, Carpenter
turned to the magnate, and without a trace of embarrassment, said:
"You understand, Mr. T-S, I have no money. But we must pay--"

"Oh, sure!" said T-S, quickly. "I'll pay!"

"Thank you," said the other; and he turned to an official of the
union with whom he had got acquainted in the course of the morning.
He introduced us all, not forgetting the secretary, and then said:
"Mr. T-S is the moving picture producer, and wants to have lunch
with you, if you will consent."

"Oh, sure!" said the official, cordially.

"He will pay for it," added Carpenter. "He has brought along a
thousand dollars for that purpose."

T-S started as if some one had struck him; and the official started
too. "WHAT?"

"He will pay a thousand dollars," declared Carpenter. "It is a fact,
and you may tell the people, if you wish."

"My Gawd, no!" cried T-S wildly.

But the official did not heed him. He faced the crowd and stretched
out his arms. "Boys! Boys! This is Mr. T-S, the picture producer,
and he's come to lunch with us, and he's going to pay a thousand
dollars for it!"

There was a moment of amazed silence, then a roar from the company.
Men leaped to their feet and yelled. And there stood poor T-S-not
enjoying the ovation!

"Give it to them," whispered Carpenter; and the magnate, thus held
up, took out the roll of bills, and turned it over to the trembling
official, who leaped onto a chair and waved the miracle before the
crowd. "A thousand dollars! A thousand dollars!" He counted it over
before their eyes and called, louder than ever, "A thousand
dollars!"

Carpenter, followed by T-S and the secretary and myself, went down
the line of tables, shaking hands with many on the way, and being
patted on the back by others. Also T-S shook hands, and was patted.
Seats were found for us, and food was brought--double portions of
it, as if to make the plight of the poor magnate even more absurd! I
watched him out of the corner of my eye; he enjoyed that costly meal
just about as much as Carpenter had enjoyed the one at Prince's last
night!

However, he was game, and spilled no tears into his soup; and
Carpenter ate with honest appetite, having had no breakfast. The
strikers about us ate as if they had missed both breakfast and
supper; they laughed and chatted and made jokes with us--you would
have thought they were celebrating the winning of the strike and the
end of all their troubles. In the midst of the meal I noted two
well-dressed young men by the door, asking questions; I chuckled to
myself, seeing more head-lines--double ones, and extra size:

PROPHET OF GOD VAMPS MOVIE KING MAGNATE OF SCREEN PAYS THOUSAND FOR
LUNCH

But I knew that T-S had never yet paid a thousand dollars without
getting something for it, and I was not surprised when, after he had
gulped down his meal, he turned to his host and, disregarding the
company and the excitement, demanded, "Now, Mr. Carpenter, tell me,
do I git de contract?"

Carpenter had had his jest, and was through with it. He answered,
gravely: "You must understand me, Mr. T-S. You don't want a contract
with me."

"I don't?"

"If I were to sign it, it would not be a week before you would be
sorry, and would be asking me to release you."

"Vy is dat, Mr. Carpenter?"

"Because I am going to do things which will make me quite useless to
you in a business way."

"Dat can't be true, Mr. Carpenter!"

"It is true, and you will realize it soon. I assure you, it won't be
a day before you will be ashamed of having known me."

T-S was gazing at the speaker, not certain whether this was
something very terrible, or only a polite evasion. "Mr. Carpenter,"
he answered, "if all de vorld vas to give you up, I vouldn't!"

Said Carpenter: "I tell you, before the cock crows again, you will
deny three times that you know me." And then, without awaiting
response from the amazed T-S, he turned to speak to the man on the
other side of him.

The magnate of the pictures sat silent, evidently frightened. At
last he turned to me and asked, "Vot you tink he meant by dat,
Billy?"

I answered: "I think he meant that you are to play the part of
Peter."

"Peter? Peter Pan?"

"No; St. Peter, who denied his master."

"Veil," said T-S, patiently, "you know, I ain't vun o' dese litry
fellers."

"I'll tell it to you some time," I continued. "It's kind of funny.
If he's right, you are going to be the first pope, and sit at the
golden gate, holding the keys of heaven."

"My Gawd!" said T-S.

"And you've made a record in the movies." I added. "You've played
Satan and St. Peter, both on the same day! That is 'doubling' with a
vengeance!"



XXXI


When I got back to the Labor Temple, I learned that there was to be
a mass-meeting of the strikers this Saturday evening. It had been
planned some days ago, and now was to be turned into a protest
against police violence and "government by injunction." There was a
cheap afternoon paper which professed sympathy with the workers, and
this published a manifesto, signed by a number of labor leaders,
summoning their followers to make clear that they would no longer
submit to "Cossack rule."

It appeared now that these leaders were considering inviting
Carpenter to become one of the speakers at their meeting. Two of
them came up to me. I had heard this stranger speak, and did I think
he could hold an audience? I gave assurance; he was a man of
dignity, and would do them credit. They were afraid the newspapers
would represent him as a freak, but of course their meeting would
hardly fare very well in the papers anyhow. One of them asked,
cautiously, how much of an extremist was he? Labor leaders were
having a hard time these days to hold down the "reds," and the
employers were not giving them any help. Did I think Carpenter would
support the "reds"? I answered that I didn't know the labor movement
well enough to judge, but one thing they could be sure of, he was a
man of peace, and would not preach any sort of violence.

The matter was settled a little later, when Mary Magna drove up to
the Labor Temple in her big limousine. Mary, for the first time in
the memory of anyone who knew her, was without her war-paint;
dressed like a Quakeress--a most uncanny phenomenon! She had not a
single jewel on; and before long I learned why--she had taken all
she owned to a jeweler that morning, and sold them for something
over six thousand dollars. She brought the money to the fund for the
babies of the strikers; nor did she ask anyone else to hand it in
for her. It was Mary's fashion to look the world in the eye and say
what she was doing.

T-S was still hanging about, and at first he tried to check this
insane extravagance, but then he thought it over and grinned,
saying, "I git my tousand dollars back in advertising!" When I
pointed out to him what would be the interpretation placed by
newspaper gossip on Mary's intervention in the affairs of Carpenter,
he grinned still more widely. "Ain't he got a right to be in love
vit Mary? All de vorld's in love vit Mary!" And of course, there was
a newspaper reporter standing by his side, so that this remark went
out to the world as semi-official comment!

You understand that by this time the second edition of the papers
was on the streets, and it was known that the new prophet was at the
Labor Temple. Curiosity seekers came filtering in, among them half a
dozen more reporters, and as many camera men. After that, poor
Carpenter could get no peace at all. Would he please say if he was
going to do any more healing? Would he turn a little more to the
light--just one second, thank you. Would he mind making a group with
Miss Magna and Mr. T-S and the "wealthy young scion"? Would he
consent to step outside for some moving pictures, before the light
got too dim? It was a new kind of mob--a ravening one, making all
dignity and thought impossible. In the end I had to mount guard and
fight the publicity-hounds away. Was it likely this man would go out
and pose for cameras, when he had just refused fifteen hundred
dollars a week from Mr. T-S to do that very thing? And then more
excitement! Had he really refused such an offer? The king of the
movies admitted that he had!