Peter had once been like that himself, but now he was so
comfortable, he had a tendency to become lazy and easy-going. It was
well, therefore, that he had Gladys to jack him up, and keep him on
his job. Gladys at first did not meet any Reds face to face, she
knew them only by the stories that Peter brought home to her when
his day's work was done. But each new group that he was hounding
became to Gladys an assemblage of incarnate fiends, and while she
sat polishing the finger-nails of stout society ladies who were too
sleepy to talk, Gladys' busy mind would be working over schemes to
foil these fiends.

Sometimes her ideas were quite wonderful. She had a woman's
intuition, the knowledge of human foibles, all the intricate
subtleties of the emotional life; she would bring to Peter a program
for the undoing of some young radical, as complete as if she had
known the man or woman all her life. Peter took her ideas to
McGivney, and then to Guffey, and the result was that her talents
were recognized, and by the lever of a generous salary she was pried
loose from the manicure parlor. Guffey sent her to make the
acquaintance of the servants in the household of a certain rich man
who was continually making contributions to the Direct Primary
Association and other semi-Red organizations, and who was believed
to have a scandal in his private life. So successful was Gladys at
this job that presently Guffey set her at the still more delicate
task of visiting rich ladies, and impressing upon them the
seriousness of the Red peril, and persuading them to meet the
continually increasing expenses of Guffey's office.

Just now was a busy time in the anti-Red campaign. For nearly two
years, ever since the Bolshevik revolution in Russia, there had been
gradually developing a split in the Socialist movement, and the
"under-cover" operatives of the Traction Trust, as well as those of
the district attorney's office and of the Federal government, had
been working diligently to widen this split and develop dissensions
in the organization. There were some Socialists who believed in
politics, and were prepared to devote their lives to the slow and
tedious job of building up a party. There were others who were
impatient, looking for a short cut, a general strike or a mass
insurrection of the workers which would put an end to the slavery of
capitalism. The whole game of politics was rotten, these would
argue; a politician could find more ways to fool the workers in a
minute than the workers could thwart in a year. They pointed to the
German Socialists, those betrayers of internationalism. There were
people who called themselves Socialists right here in American City
who wanted to draw the movement into the same kind of trap!

This debate was not conducted in the realm of abstractions; the two
wings of the movement would attack one another with bitterness. The
"politicians" would denounce the "impossibilists," calling them
"anarchists;" and the other side, thus goaded, would accuse their
enemies of being in the hire of the government. Peter would supply
McGivney with bits of scandal which the "under cover" men would
start going among the "left-wingers;" and in the course of the long
wrangles in the local these accusations would come out. Herbert
Ashton would mention them with his biting sarcasm, or "Shorty"
Gunton would shout them in one of his tirades--"hurling them into
his opponents teeth," as he phrased it.

"Shorty" Gunton was a tramp printer, a wandering agitator who was
all for direct action, and didn't care a hang who knew it.
"Violence?" he would say. "How many thousand years shall we submit
to the violence of capitalist governments, and never have the right
to reply?" And then again he would say, "Violence? Yes, of course
we must repudiate violence--until we get enough of it!" Peter had
listened to "Shorty's" railings at the "compromisers" and the
"political traders," and had thought him one of the most dangerous
men in American City. But later on, after the episode of Joe Angell
had opened Peter's eyes, he decided that "Shorty" must also be a
secret agent like himself.

Peter was never told definitely, but he picked up a fact here and
there, and fitted them together, and before long his suspicion had
become certainty. The "left wing" Socialists split off from the
party, and called a convention of their own, and this convention in
turn split up, one part forming the Communist Party, and another
part forming the Communist Labor Party. While these two conventions
were in session, McGivney came to Peter, and said that the Federal
government had a man on the platform committee of the Communist
Party, and they wanted to write in some phrases that would make
membership in that party in itself a crime, so that everybody who
held a membership card could be sent to prison without further
evidence. These phrases must be in the orthodox Communist lingo, and
this was where Peter's specialized knowledge was needed.

So Peter wrote the phrases, and a couple of days later he read in
the newspapers an account of the convention proceedings. The
platform committee had reported, and "Shorty" Gunton had submitted a
minority report, and had made a fiery speech in the convention, with
the result that his minority report was carried by a narrow margin.
This minority report contained all the phrases that Peter had
written. A couple of months later, when the government had its case
ready, and the wholesale raids upon the Communists took place,
"Shorty" Gunton was arrested, but a few days later he made a
dramatic escape by sawing his way thru the roof of the jail!






Section 80





The I. W. W. had bobbed up again in American City, and had ventured
to open another headquarters. Peter did not dare go to the place
himself, but he coached a couple of young fellows whom McGivney
brought to him, teaching them the Red lingo, and how to worm their
way into the movement. Before long one of them was secretary of the
local; and Peter, directing their activities. received reports twice
a week of everything the "wobblies" were planning and doing. Peter
and Gladys were figuring out another bomb conspiracy to direct
attention to these dangerous men, when one day Peter picked up the
morning paper and discovered that a kind Providence had delivered
the enemy into his hands.

Up in the lumber country of the far Northwest, in a little town
called Centralia, the "wobblies" had had their headquarters raided
and smashed, just as in American City. They had got themselves
another meeting-place, and again the members of the Chamber of
Commerce and the Merchants' and Manufacturers' Association had held
a secret meeting and resolved to wipe them out. The "wobblies" had
appealed to the authorities for protection, and when protection was
refused, they had printed a leaflet appealing to the public. But the
business men went ahead with their plans. They arranged for a parade
of returned soldiers on the anniversary of Armistice Day, and they
diverted this parade out of its path so that it would pass in front
of the I. W. W. headquarters. Some of the more ardent members
carried ropes, symbolic of what they meant to do; and they brought
the parade to a halt in front of the headquarters, and set up a yell
and started to rush the hall. They battered in the door, and had
pushed their way half thru it when the "wobblies" opened fire from
inside, killing several of the paraders.

Then, of course, the mob flew into a frenzy of fury. They beat the
men in the hall, some of them into insensibility; they flung them
into jail, and battered and tortured them, and took one of them out
of jail and carried him away in an automobile, and after they had
mutilated him as Shawn Grady had been mutilated, they hanged him
from a bridge. Of course they saw to it that the newspaper stories
which went out from Centralia that night were the right kind of
stories; and next morning all America read how a group of "wobblies"
had armed themselves with rifles, and concealed themselves on the
roof of the I. W. W. headquarters, and deliberately and in cold
blood had opened fire upon a peaceful parade of unarmed war
veterans.

Of course the country went wild, and the Guffeys and McGivneys and
Gudges all over the United States realized that their chance had
come. Peter instructed the secretary of the I. W. W. local of
American City to call a meeting for that evening, to adopt a
resolution declaring the press stories from Centralia to be lies. At
the same time another of Guffey's men, an ex-army officer still
wearing his, uniform, caused a meeting of the American Legion to be
summoned; he made a furious address to the boys, and at nine o'clock
that night some two-score of them set out, armed with big
monkey-wrenches from their automobiles, and raided the I. W. W.
headquarters, and battered the members over the head with the
monkey-wrenches, causing several to leap from the window and break
their legs. Next morning the incident was reported in the American
City "Times" with shouts of glee, and District-attorney Burchard
issued a public statement to the effect that no effort would be made
to punish the soldier boys; the "wobblies" had wanted "direct
action," and they had got it, and it would be assumed that they were
satisfied.

Then the members of the American Legion, encouraged by this
applause, and instigated by Guffey's ex-army officer, proceeded to
invade and wreck every radical meeting-place in the city. They
smashed the "Clarion" office and the Socialist Party headquarters
again, and confiscated more tons of literature. They wrecked a
couple of book-stores, and then, breaking up into small groups, they
inspected all the news-stands in the city, and wherever they found
Red magazines like the Nation or the New Republic, they tore up the
copies and threatened the agents with arrest. They invaded the rooms
of a literary society called the Ruskin Club, frequented mostly by
amiable old ladies, and sent some of these elderly dames into
hysterics. They discovered the "Russian Peoples' Club," which had
hitherto been overlooked because it was an educational organization.
But of course no Russian could be trusted these days--all of them
were Bolsheviks, or on the way to becoming Bolsheviks, which was the
same thing; so Guffey organized a raid on this building, and some
two hundred Russians were clubbed and thrown downstairs or out of
windows, and an elderly teacher of mathematics had his skull
cracked, and a teacher of music had some teeth knocked out.

There were several million young Americans who had been put into
military uniform, and had guns put into their hands, and been put
thru target practice and bayonet drill, and then had not seen any
fighting. These fellows were, as the phrase has it, "spoiling for a
fight;" and here was their chance. It was just as much fun as trench
warfare, and had the advantage of not being dangerous. When the
raiding parties came back, there were no missing members, and no
casualties to be telegraphed to heartbroken parents. Some fool women
got together and tried to organize a procession to protest against
the blockade of Russia; the raiders fell upon these women, and
wrecked their banners, and tore their clothing to bits, and the
police hustled what was left of them off to jail. It happened that a
well-known "sporting man," that is to say a race-track frequenter,
came along wearing a red necktie, and the raiders, taking him for a
Bolshevik, fell upon him and pretty nearly mauled the life out of
him. After that there was protest from people who thought it unwise
to break too many laws while defending law and order, so the
district attorney's office arranged to take on the young soldier
boys as deputy sheriffs, and give them all badges, legal and proper.






Section 81





Peter Gudge often went along on these hunting parties. Peter,
curiously enough, discovered in himself the same "complex" as the
balked soldier boys. Peter had been reading war news for five years,
but had missed the fighting; and now he discovered that he liked to
fight. What had kept him from liking to fight in the past was the
danger of getting hurt; but now that there was no such danger, he
could enjoy it. In past times people had called him a coward, and he
had heard it so often that he had come to believe it; but now he
realized that it was not true, he was just as brave as anybody else
in the crowd.

The truth was that Peter had not had a happy time in his youth, he
had never learned, like the younger members of the Chamber of
Commerce and the Merchants' and Manufacturers' Association, to knock
a little white ball about a field with various shapes and sizes of
clubs. Peter was like a business man who has missed his boyhood, and
then in later years finds the need of recreation, and takes up some
form of sport by the orders of his physician. It became Peter's,
form of sport to stick an automatic revolver in his hip-pocket, and
take a blackjack in his hand, and rush into a room where thirty or
forty Russians or "Sheenies" of all ages and lengths of beard were
struggling to learn the intricacies of English spelling. Peter would
give a yell, and see this crowd leap and scurry hither and thither,
and chase them about and take a whack at a head wherever he saw one,
and jump into a crowd who were bunched together like sheep, trying
to hide their heads, and pound them over the exposed parts of their
anatomy until they scattered into the open again. He liked to get a
lot of them started downstairs and send them tumbling heels over
head; or if he could get them going out a window, that was more
exhilarating yet, and he would yell and whoop at them. He learned
some of their cries--outlandish gibberish it was--and he would curse
them in their own language. He had a streak of the monkey in him,
and as he got to know these people better he would imitate their
antics and their gestures of horror, and set a whole room full of
the "bulls" laughing to split their sides. There was a famous
"movie" comedian with big feet, and Peter would imitate this man,
and waddle up to some wretched sweat-shop worker and boot him in the
trousers' seat, or step on his toes, or maybe spit in his eye. So he
became extremely popular among the "bulls," and they would insist on
his going everywhere with them.

Later on, when the government set to work to break up the Communist
Party and the Communist Labor Party, Peter's popularity and prestige
increased still more. For now, instead of just raiding and smashing,
the police and detectives would round up the prisoners and arrest
them by hundreds, and carry them off and put them thru
"examinations." And Peter was always needed for this; his special
knowledge made him indispensable, and he became practically the boss
of the proceedings. It had been arranged thru "Shorty" Gunton and
the other "under cover" men that the meetings of the Communist and
Communist Labor parties should be held on the same night; and all
over the country this same thing was done, and next morning the
world was electrified by the news that all these meetings had been
raided at the same hour, and thousands of Reds placed under arrest.
In American City the Federal government had hired a suite of about a
dozen rooms adjoining the offices of Guffey, and all night and next
morning batches of prisoners were brought in, until there were about
four hundred in all. They were crowded into these rooms with barely
space to sit down; of course there was an awful uproar, moaning and
screaming of people who had been battered, and a smell that beat the
monkey cage at the zoological gardens.

The prisoners were kept penned up in this place for several weeks,
and all the time more were being brought in; there were so many that
the women had to be stored in the toilets. Many of the prisoners
fell ill, or pretended to fall ill, and several of them went insane,
or pretended to go insane, and several of them died, or pretended to
die. And of course the parlor Reds and sympathizers were busy
outside making a terrible fuss about it. They had no more papers,
and could not hold any more meetings, and when they tried to
circulate literature the post-office authorities tied them up; but
still somehow they managed to get publicity, and Peter's "under
cover" men would report to him who was doing this work, and Peter
would arrange to have more raids and more batches of prisoners
brought in. In one of the "bomb-plots" which had been unveiled in
the East they had discovered some pink paper, used either for
printing leaflets, or for wrapping explosives, one could not be
sure. Anyhow, the secret agencies with which Guffey was connected
had distributed samples of this paper over the country, and any time
the police wanted to finish some poor devil, they would find this
deadly "pink paper" in his possession, and the newspapers would
brand him as one of the group of conspirators who were sending
infernal machines thru the mails.






Section 82





Peter was so busy these days that he missed several nights' sleep,
and hardly even stopped to eat. He had his own private room, where
the prisoners were brought for examination, and he had half a dozen
men under his orders to do the "strong arm" work. It was his task to
extract from these prisoners admissions which would justify their
being sent to prison if they were citizens, or being deported if
they were aliens. There was of course seldom any way to distinguish
between citizens and aliens; you just had to take a chance on it,
proceeding on the certainty that all were dangerous. Many years ago,
when Peter had been working for Pericles Priam, they had spent
several months in a boarding house, and you could tell when there
was going to be beef-steak for dinner, because you heard the cook
pounding it with the potato-masher to "tender it up;" and Peter
learned this phrase, and, now used the process upon his alien Reds.
When they came into the room, Peter's men would fall upon them and
beat them and cuff them, knocking them about from one fist to
another. If they were stubborn and would not "come across," Peter
would take them in hand himself, remembering how successful Guffey
had been in getting things out of him by the twisting of wrists and
the bending back of fingers.

It was amazing how clever and subtle some of these fellows were.
They were just lousy foreign laborers, but they spent all their
spare time reading; you would find large collections of books in
their rooms when you made your raids, and they knew exactly what you
wanted, and would parry your questions. Peter would say: "You're an
Anarchist, aren't you?" And the answer would be: "I'm not an
Anarchist in the sense of the word you mean"--as if there could be
two meanings of the word "Anarchist!" Peter would say, "You believe
in violence, do you not?" And then the fellow would become
impertinent: "It is you who believe in violence, look at my face
that you have smashed." Or Peter would say, "You don't like this
government, do you?" And the answer would be, "I always liked it
until it treated me so badly"--all kinds of evasions like that, and
there would be a stenographer taking it down, and unless Peter could
get something into the record that was a confession, it would not be
possible to deport that Red. So Peter would fall upon him and
"tender him up" until be would answer what he was told to answer; or
maybe Peter would prepare an interview as he wanted it to be, and
the detectives would grab the man's hand and make him sign it; or
maybe Peter would just sign it himself.

These were harsh methods, but there was no way to help it, the Reds
were so cunning. They were secretly undermining the government, and
was the government to lie down and admit its helplessness? The
answer of 100% Americanism was thundered from every wood and templed
hill in the country; also from every newspaper office. The answer
was "No!" 100% Americanism would find a way to preserve itself from
the sophistries of European Bolshevism; 100% Americanism had worked
out its formula: "If they don't like this country, let them go back
where they come from." But of course, knowing in their hearts that
America was the best country in the world, they didn't want to go
back, and it was necessary to make them go.

Peter was there for that purpose, and his devoted wife was by his
side, egging him on with her feminine implacability. Gladys had
always been accustomed to refer to these people as "cattle," and
now, when she smelled them herded together in these office rooms for
several weeks, she knew that she was right, and that no fate could
be too stern for them. Presently with Peter's help she discovered
another bomb-plot, this time against the Attorney-General of the
country, who was directing these wholesale raids. They grabbed four
Italian Anarchists in American City, and kept them apart in special
rooms, and for a couple of months Peter labored with them to get
what he wanted out of them. Just as Peter thought be had succeeded,
his efforts were balked by one of them jumping out of the window.
The room being on the fourteenth story, this Italian Anarchist was
no longer available as a witness against himself. The incident set
the parlor Bolsheviks all over the country to raging, and caused
David Andrews to get some kind of court injunction, and make a lot
of inconvenience to Guffey's office.

However, the work went on; the Reds were gradually sorted out, and
some who proved not to be Reds were let go again, and others were
loaded onto special Red trains and taken to the nearest ports. Some
of them went in grim silence, others went with furious cursings, and
yet others with wailings and shriekings; for many of them had
families, and they had the nerve to demand that the government
should undertake to ship their families also, or else to take care
of their families for them! The government, naturally, admitted no
such responsibility. The Reds had no end of money for printing
seditious literature, so let them use it to take care of their own!

In these various raids and examinations Peter of course met a great
many of the Reds whom he had once known as friends and intimates.
Peter had been wont to imagine himself meeting them, and to tremble
at the bare idea; but now he found that he rather enjoyed it. He was
entirely delivered from that fear of them, which had formerly
spoiled his appetite and disturbed his sleep. He had learned that
the Reds were poor creatures who did not fight back; they had no
weapons, and many of them did not even have muscles; there was
really nothing to them but talk. And Peter knew that he had the
power of organized society behind him, the police and the courts and
the jails, if necessary the army with its machine guns and airplanes
and poison gas. Not merely was it safe to pound these people, to
tread on their toes and spit in their eyes; it was safe also to
frame up anything on them, because the newspapers would always back
you up, and the public would of course believe whatever it read in
its newspapers.

No, Peter was no longer afraid of the Reds! He made up his mind that
he was not even afraid of Mac, the most dangerous Red of them all.
Mac was safely put away in jail for twenty years, and although his
case had been appealed, the court had refused to grant a stay of
sentence or to let him out on bail. As it happened, Peter got a
glimpse into Mac's soul in jail, and knew that even that proud, grim
spirit was breaking. Mac in jail had written a letter to one of his
fellow-Reds in American City, and the post-office authorities had
intercepted the letter, and Guffey had shown it to Peter. "Write to
us!" Mac had pleaded. "For God's sake, write to us! The worst horror
of being in jail is that you are forgotten. Do at least let us know
that somebody is thinking about us!"

So Peter knew that he was the victor, he was "top dog." And when he
met these Reds whom he had been so afraid of, he took pleasure in
letting them feel the weight of his authority, and sometimes of his
fist. It was amusing to see the various ways in which they behaved
toward him. Some would try to plead with him, for the sake of old
times; some would cringe and whine to him; some would try to reason
with him, to touch his conscience. But mostly they would be haughty,
they would glare at him with hate, or put a sneer of contempt on
their faces. So Peter would set his "bulls" to work to improve their
manners, and a little thumb-bending and wrist-twisting would soon do
the work.






Section 83





Among the first load to be brought in was Miriam Yankovich. Miriam
had joined the Communist Party, and she had been born in Russia, so
that was all there was to her case. Peter, knew, of course that it
was Miriam who had set Rosie Stern after him and brought about his
downfall. Still, he could not help but be moved by her appearance.
She looked haggard and old, and she had a cough, and her eyes were
wild and crazy. Peter remembered her as proud and hot-tempered, but
now her pride was all gone--she flung herself on her knees before
him, and caught hold of his coat, sobbing hysterically. It appeared
that she had a mother and five young brothers and sisters who were
dependent upon her earnings; all her money had been consumed by
hospital expenses, and now she was to be deported to Russia, and
what would become of her loved ones?

Peter answered, what could he do? She had violated the law, they had
her membership card in the Communist Party, and she had admitted
that she was alien born. He tried to draw away, but she clung to
him, and went on sobbing and pleading. At least she ought to have a
chance to talk with her old mother, to tell her what to do, where to
go for help, how to communicate with Miriam in future. They were
sending her away without allowing her to have a word with her loved
ones, without even a chance to get her clothing!

Peter, as we know, had always been soft-hearted towards women, so
now he was embarrassed. In the handling of these cattle he was
carrying out the orders of his superiors; he had no power to grant
favors to any one, and he told Miriam this again and again. But she
would not listen to him. "Please, Peter, please! For God's sake,
Peter! You know you were once a little in love with me, Peter--you
told me so--"

Yes, that was true, but it hadn't done Peter much good. Miriam bad
been interested in Mac--in Mac, that most dangerous devil, who had
given Peter so many anxious hours! She had brushed Peter to one
side, she had hardly been willing to listen to what he said; and now
she was trying to use that love she had spurned!

She had got hold of his hand, and he could not get it away from her
without violence. "If you ever felt a spark of love for a woman,"
she cried, "surely you cannot deny such a favor--such a little
favor! Please, Peter, for the sake of old times!"

Suddenly Peter started, and Miriam too. There came a voice from the
doorway. "So this is one of your lady friends, is it?" And there
stood Gladys, staring, rigid with anger, her little hands clenched.
"So this is one of your Red sweethearts, one of your nationalized
women?" And she stamped her foot. "Get up, you hussy! Get up, you
slut!" And as Miriam continued to kneel, motionless with surprise,
Gladys rushed at her, and clutched two handfuls of her heavy black
hair, and pulled so that Miriam fell prone on the floor. "I'll teach
you, you free lover!" she screamed. "I'll teach you to make love to
my husband!" And she dragged Miriam about by that mop of black hair,
kicking her and clawing her, until finally several of the bulls had
to interfere to save the girl's life.

As a matter of fact Gladys had been told about Peter's shameful past
before she married him; Guffey had told her, and she had told Peter
that Guffey had told her, she had reminded Peter of it many, many
times. But the actual sight of one of these "nationalized women" had
driven her into a frenzy, and it was a week before peace was
restored in the Gudge family. Meantime poor Peter was buffeted by
storms of emotion, both at home and in his office. They were getting
ready the first Red train, and it seemed as if every foreign Red
that Peter had ever known was besieging him, trying to get at him
and harrow his soul and his conscience. Sadie Todd's cousin, who had
been born in England, was shipped out on this first train, and also
a Finnish lumberman whom Peter had known in the I. W. W., and a
Bohemian cigar worker at whose home he had several times eaten, and
finally Michael Dubin, the Jewish boy with whom he had spent fifteen
days in jail, and who had been one of the victims of the black-snake
whippings.

Michael made no end of wailing, because he had a wife and three
babies, and he set up the claim that when the "bulls" had raided his
home they had stolen all his savings, two or three hundred dollars.
Peter, of course, insisted that he could do nothing; Dubin was a Red
and an alien, and he must go. When they were loading them on the
train, there was Dubin's wife and half a hundred other women,
shrieking and wringing their hands, and trying to break thru the
guards to get near their loved ones. The police had to punch them in
the stomachs with their clubs to hold them back, and in spite of all
these blows, the hysterical Mrs. Dubin succeeded in breaking thru
the guards, and she threw herself under the wheels of the train, and
they were barely able to drag her away in time to save her life.
Scenes like this would, of course, have a bad effect upon the
public, and so Guffey called up the editors of all the newspapers,
and obtained a gentleman's agreement that none of them would print
any details.






Section 84





All over the country the Red trains were moving eastward, loaded
with "wobblies" and communists, pacifists and anarchists, and a
hundred other varieties of Bolsheviks. They got a shipload together
and started them off for Russia--the "Red Ark" it was called, and
the Red soap-boxers set tip a terrific uproar, and one Red clergyman
compared the "Red Ark" to the Mayflower! Also there was some Red
official in Washington, who made a fuss and cancelled a whole block
of deportation orders, including some of Peter's own cases. This,
naturally, was exasperating to Peter and his wife; and on top of it
came another incident that was still more humiliating.

There was a "pink" mass meeting held in American City, to protest
against the deportations. Guffey said they would quite probably raid
the meeting, and Peter must go along, so as to point out the Reds to
the bulls. The work was in charge of a police detective by the name
of Garrity, head of what was called the "Bomb Squad"; but this man
didn't know very much, so he had the habit of coming to Peter for
advice. Now he had the whole responsibility of this meeting, and he
asked Peter to come up on the platform with him, and Peter went.
Here was a vast audience--all the Red fury which had been pent up
for many months, breaking loose in a whirlwind of excitement. Here
were orators, well dressed and apparently respectable men, not in
any way to be distinguished from the born rulers of the country,
coming forward on the platform and uttering the most treasonable
sentences, denouncing the government, denouncing the blockade
against Russia, praising the Bolshevik government of Russia,
declaring that the people who went away in the "Soviet Ark" were
fortunate, because they were escaping from a land of tyranny into a
land of freedom. At every few sentences the orator would be stopped
by a storm of applause that broke from the audience.

And what was a poor Irish Catholic police detective to make of a
proposition like that? Here stood an orator declaring: "Whenever any
form of government becomes destructive to these ends, it is the
right of the people to alter or to abolish it, and to institute new
government, laying its foundations on such principles and organizing
its powers in such form, as to them shall seem most likely to effect
their safety and happiness." And Garrity turned to Peter. "What do
you think of that?" he said, his good-natured Irish face blank with
dismay.

Peter thought it was the limit. Peter knew that thousands of men all
over America had been sent to prison for saying things less
dangerous than that. Peter had read many sets of instructions from
the office of the Attorney-General of the United States, and knew
officially that that was precisely the thing you were never under
any circumstances permitted to say, or to write, or even to think.
So Peter said to Garrity: "That fellow's gone far enough. You better
arrest him." Garrity spoke to his men, and they sprang forward on
the platform, and stopped the orator and placed him and all his
fellow-orators under arrest, and ordered the audience out of the
building. There were a couple of hundred policemen and detectives on
hand to carry out Garrity's commands, and they formed a line with
their clubs, and drove the crowd before them, and carted the
speakers off in a patrol wagon. Then Peter went back to Guffey's
office, and told what he had done--and got a reception that reminded
him of the time Guffey had confronted him with the letter from Nell
Doolin! "Who do you think that was you pinched?" cried Guffey.
"He's the brother of a United States senator! And what do you think
he was saying? That was a sentence from the Declaration of
Independence!"


Peter couldn't "get it"; Peter was utterly lost. Could a man go
ahead and break the law, just because he happened to be a brother of
a United States senator? And what difference did it make whether a
thing was in the Declaration of Independence, if it was seditious,
if it wasn't allowed to be said? This incident brought Guffey and
the police authorities of the city so much ridicule that Guffey got
all his men together and read them a lecture, explaining to them
just what were the limits of the anti-Red activities, just who it
was they mustn't arrest, and just what it was they couldn't keep
people from saying. For example, a man couldn't be arrested for
quoting the Bible.

"But Jesus Christ, Guffey," broke in one of the men, "have all of us
got to know the Bible by heart?"

There was a laugh all round. "No," Guffey admitted, "but at least be
careful, and don't arrest anybody for saying anything that sounds as
if it came from the Bible."

"But hell!" put in another of the men, who happened to be an
ex-preacher. "That'll tie us up tighter than a jail-sentence! Look
what's in the Bible!"

And he proceeded to quote some of the things, and Peter knew that he
had never heard any Bolshevik talk more outrageous than that. It
made one realize more than ever how complicated was this Red
problem; for Guffey insisted, in spite of everything, that every
word out of the Bible was immune. "Up in Winnipeg," said he, "they
indicted a clergyman for quoting two passages from the prophet
Isaiah, but they couldn't face it, they had to let the fellow go."
And the same thing was true of the Declaration of Independence;
anybody might read it, no matter how seditious it was. And the same
thing was true of the Constitution, even tho the part called the
Bill of Rights declared that everybody in America might do all the
things that Guffey's office was sending them to jail for doing!

This seemed a plain crazy proposition; but Guffey explained it as a
matter of politics. If they went too far, these fellows would go out
and capture the votes from them, and maybe take away the government
from them, and where would they be then? Peter had never paid any
attention to politics before this, but both he and Gladys realized
after this lecture that they must broaden their view-point. It was
not enough to put the Reds in jail and crack their skulls, you had
to keep public sympathy for what you were doing, you had to make the
public understand that it was necessary, you had to carry on what
was called "propaganda," to keep the public aware of the odiousness
of these cattle, and the desperate nature of their purposes.

The man who perceived that most clearly was the Attorney-General of
the country, and Guffey in his lecture pointed out the double nature
of his activities. Not merely was the Attorney-General breaking up
the Communist and the Communist Labor parties and sending their
members to jail; he was using the funds of his office to send out an
endless stream of propaganda, to keep the country frightened about
these Red plots. Right now he had men in American City working over
the data which Guffey had collected, and every week or two he would
make a speech somewhere, or would issue a statement to the
newspapers, telling of new bomb plots and new conspiracies to
overthrow the government. And how clever he was about it! He would
get the pictures of the very worst-looking of the Reds, pictures
taken after they had been kept in jail for weeks without a shave,
and with the third degree to spoil their tempers; and these pictures
would be spread on a sheet with the caption: "MEN LIKE THESE WOULD
RULE YOU." This would be sent to ten thousand country newspapers all
over the nation, and ninety-nine hundred would publish it, and
ninety-nine million Americans would want to murder the Reds next
morning. So successful had this plan proven that the
Attorney-General was expecting to be nominated for President by
means of it, and all the agencies of his department were working to
that end.

The same thing was being done by all the other agencies of big
business all over the country. The "Improve America League" of
American City was publishing full-page advertisements in the
"Times," and the "Home and Fireside Association" of Eldorado was
doing the same thing in the Eldorado "Times," and the "Patriot's
Defense Legion" was doing the same thing in the Flagland "Banner."
They were investigating the records of all political candidates, and
if any of them showed the faintest tinge of pink, Guffey's office
would set to work to rake up their records and get up scandals on
them, and the business men would contribute a big campaign fund, and
these candidates would be snowed under at the polls. That was the
kind of work they were doing, and all Guffey's operatives must bear
in mind the importance of it, and must never take any step that
would hamper this political campaign, this propaganda on behalf of
law and order.






Section 85





Peter went out from this conference a sober man, realizing for the
first time his responsibilities as a voter, and a shepherd to other
voters. Peter agreed with Gladys that his views had been too narrow;
his conception of the duties of a secret agent had been of the
pre-war order. Now he must realize that the world was changed; now,
in this new world made safe for democracy, the secret agent was the
real ruler of society, the real master of affairs, the trustee, as
it were, for civilization. Peter and his wife must take up this new
role and make themselves fit for it. They ought of course not be
moved by personal considerations, but at the same time they must
recognize the fact that this higher role would be of great advantage
to them; it would enable them to move up in the world, to meet the
best people. Thru five or six years of her young life Gladys had sat
polishing the fingernails and fondling the soft white hands of the
genteel; and always a fire of determination had burnt in her breast,
that some day she would belong to this world of gentility, she would
meet these people, not as an employee, but as an equal, she would
not merely hold their hands, but would have them hold hers.

Now the chance had come. She had a little talk with Guffey, and
Guffey said it would be a good idea, and he would speak to Billy
Nash, the secretary of the "Improve America League"; and he did so,
and next week the American City "Times" announced that on the
following Sunday evening the Men's Bible Class of the Bethlehem
Church would have an interesting meeting. It would be addressed by
an "under cover" operative of the government, a former Red who had
been for many years a most dangerous agitator, but had seen the
error of his ways, and had made amends by giving his services to the
government in the recent I. W. W. trials.

The Bethlehem Church didn't amount to very much, it was an obscure
sect like the Holy Rollers; but Gladys had been shrewd, and had
insisted that you mustn't try to climb to the top of the mountain in
one step. Peter must first "try it on the dog," and if he failed,
there would be no great harm done.

But Gladys worked just as hard to make a success of this lecture as
if they had been going into real society. She spent several days
getting up her costume and Peter's, and she spent a whole day
getting her toilet ready, and before they set out she spent at least
an hour putting the finishing touches upon herself in front of a
mirror, and seeing that Peter was proper in every detail. When Mr.
Nash introduced her personally to the Rev. Zebediah Muggins, and
when this apostle of the second advent came out upon the platform
and introduced her husband to the crowded working-class audience,
Gladys was so a-quiver with delight that it was more a pain than a
pleasure.

Peter did not do perfectly, of course. He lost himself a few times,
and stammered and floundered about; but he remembered Glady's
advice--if he got stuck, to smile and explain that he had never
spoken in public before. So everything went along nicely, and
everybody in the Men's Bible Class was aghast at the incredible
revelations of this ex-Red and secret agent of law and order. So
next week Peter was invited again--this time by the Young Saints'
League; and when he had made good there, he was drafted by the Ad.
Men's Association, and then by the Crackers and Cheese Club. By this
time he had acquired what Gladys called "savwaa fair"; his fame
spread rapidly, and at last came the supreme hour--he was summoned
to Park Avenue to address the members of the Friendly Society, a
parish organization of the Church of the Divine Compassion!

This was the goal upon which the eyes of Gladys had been fixed. This
was the time that really counted, and Peter was groomed and
rehearsed all over again. Their home was only a few blocks from the
church, but Gladys insisted that they must positively arrive in a
taxi-cab, and when they entered the Parish Hall and the Rev. de
Willoughby Stotterbridge, that exquisite almost-English gentleman,
came up and shook hands with them, Gladys knew that she had at last
arrived. The clergyman himself escorted her to the platform, and
after he had introduced Peter, he seated himself beside her, thus
definitely putting a seal upon her social position.

Peter, having learned his lecture by heart, having found out just
what brought laughter and what brought tears and what brought
patriotic applause, was now an assured success. After the lecture he
answered questions, and two clerks in the employ of Billy Nash
passed around membership cards of the "Improve America League,"
membership dues five dollars a year, sustaining membership
twenty-five dollars a year, life membership two hundred dollars
cash. Peter was shaken hands with by members of the most exclusive
social set in American City, and told by them all to keep it up--his
country needed him. Next morning there was an account of his lecture
in the "Times," and the morning after there was an editorial about
his revelations, with the moral: "Join the Improve America League."






Section 86





That second morning, when Peter got to his office, he found a letter
waiting for him, a letter written on very conspicuous and expensive
stationery, and addressed in a woman's tall and sharp-pointed
handwriting. Peter opened it and got a start, for at the top of the
letter was some kind of crest, and a Latin inscription, and the
words: "Society of the Daughters of the American Revolution." The
letter informed him by the hand of a secretary that Mrs. Warring
Sammye requested that Mr. Peter Gudge would be so good as to call
upon her that afternoon at three o'clock. Peter studied the letter,
and tried to figure out what kind of Red this was. He was impressed
by the stationery and the regal tone, but that word "Revolution" was
one of the forbidden words. Mrs. Warren Sammye must be one of the
"Parlor Reds," like Mrs. Godd.

So Peter took the letter to McGivney, and said suspiciously, "What
kind of a Red plot is this?"

McGivney read the letter, and said, "Red plot? How do you mean?"

"Why," explained Peter, "it says `Daughters of the American
Revolution.'"

And McGivney looked at him; at first he thought that Peter was
joking, but when he saw that the fellow was really in earnest, he
guffawed in his face. "You boob!" he said. "Didn't you ever hear of
the American Revolution? Don't you know anything about the Fourth of
July?"

Just then the telephone rang and interrupted them, and McGivney
shoved the letter to him saying, "Ask your wife about it!" So when
Gladys came in, Peter gave her the letter, and she was much excited.
It appeared that Mrs. Warring Sammye was a very tip-top society lady
in American City, and this American Revolution of which she was a
daughter was a perfectly respectable revolution that had happened a
long time ago; the very best people belonged to it, and it was legal
and proper to write about, and even to put on your letterheads.
Peter must go home and get himself into his best clothes at once,
and telephone to the secretary that he would be pleased to call upon
Mrs. Warring Sammye at the hour indicated. Incidentally, there were
a few more things for Peter to study. He must get a copy of the
social register, "Who's Who in American City," and he must get a
history of his country, and learn about the Declaration of
Independence, and what was the difference between a revolution that
had happened a long time ago and one that was happening now.

So Peter went to call on the great society lady in her grey stone
mansion, and found her every bit as opulent as Mrs. Godd, with the
addition that she respected her own social position; she did not
make the mistake of treating Peter as an equal, and so it did not
occur to Peter that he might settle down permanently in her home.
Her purpose was to tell Peter that she had heard of his lecture
about the Red menace, and that she was chairman of the Board of
Directors of the Lady Patronesses of the Home for Disabled War
Veterans in American City, and she wanted to arrange to have Peter
deliver this lecture to the veterans. And Peter, instructed in
advance by Gladys, said that he would be very glad to donate this
lecture as a patriotic contribution. Mrs. Warring Sammye thanked him
gravely in the name of his country, and said she would let him know
the date.

Peter went home, and Gladys made a wry face, because the lecture was
to be delivered before a lot of good-for-nothing soldiers in some
hall, when it had been her hope that it was to be delivered to the
Daughters themselves, and in Mrs. Warring Sammye's home. However, to
have attracted Mrs. Warring Sammye's attention for anything was in
itself a triumph. So Gladys was soon cheerful again, and she told
Peter about Mrs. Warring Sammye's life; one picked up such valuable
knowledge in the gossip at the manicure parlors, it appeared.

Then, being in a friendly mood, Gladys talked to Peter about
himself. They had mounted to a height from which they could look
back upon the past and see it as a whole, and in the intimacy and
confidence of their domestic partnership they could draw lessons
from their mistakes and plan their future wisely. Peter had made
many blunders--he must surely admit that. Did Peter admit that? Yes,
Peter did. But, continued Gladys, he had struggled bravely, and he
had the supreme good fortune to have secured for himself that
greatest of life's blessings, the cooperation of a good and capable
woman. Gladys was very emphatic about this latter, and Peter agreed
with her. He agreed also when she stated that it is the duty of a
good and capable wife to protect her husband for the balance of
their life's journey, so that he would be able to avoid the traps
which his enemies set for his feet. Peter, having learned by bitter
experience, would never again go chasing after a pretty face, and
wake up next morning to find his pockets empty. Peter admitted this
too. As this conversation progressed, he realized that the tour of
triumph his life had become was a thing entirely of his wife's
creation; at least, he realized that there would be no use in trying
to change his wife's conviction on the subject. Likewise he meekly
accepted her prophecies as to his future conduct; he would bring
home his salary at the end of each week, and his wife would use it,
together with her own salary, to improve the appearance and tone of
both of them, and to aid them to climb to a higher social position.

Peter, following his wife's careful instructions, has already become
more dignified in his speech, more grave in his movements. She tells
him that the future of society depends on his knowledge and his
skill, and he agrees to this also. He has learned what you can do
and what you had better not do; he will never again cross the
dead-line into crime, or take chances with experiments in blackmail.
He will try no more free lance work under the evil influence of low
creatures like Nell Doolin, but will stand in with the "machine,"
and bear in mind that honesty is the best policy. So he will
steadily progress; he will meet the big men of the country, and will
go to them, not cringing and twisting his hat in his hands, but with
quiet self-possession. He will meet the agents of the
Attorney-General aspiring to become President, and will furnish them
with material for their weekly Red scares. He will meet legislators
who want to unseat elected Socialists, and governors who wish to
jail the leaders of "outlaw" strikes. He will meet magazine writers
getting up articles, and popular novelists looking for local Red
color.