it had been arranged with guffey that at the end of a week peter was to have a secret meeting with one of the chief detective’s men. so peter told the girls that he was tired of being a prisoner in the house and must get some fresh air.
“oh please, mr. gudge, don’t take such a chance!” cried sadie, her thin, anxious face suddenly growing more anxious and thin. “don’t you know this house is being watched? they are just hoping to catch you out alone. it would be the last of you.”
“i’m not so important as that,” said peter; but she insisted that he was, and peter was pleased, in spite of his boredom, he liked to hear her insist upon his importance.
“oh!” she cried. “don’t you know yet how much depends on you as a witness for the goober defense? this case is of concern to millions of people all over the world! it is a test case, mr. gudge—are they to be allowed to murder the leaders of the working class without a struggle? no, we must show them that there is a great movement, a world-wide awakening of the workers, a struggle for freedom for the wage slaves—”
but peter could stand no more of this. “all right,” he said, suddenly interrupting sadie’s eloquence. “i suppose it’s my duty to stay, even if i die of consumption, being shut up without any fresh air.” he would play the martyr; which was not so hard, for he was one, and looked like one, with his thin, one-sided little figure, and his shabby clothes. both sadie and jennie gazed at him with admiration, and sighed with relief.
but later on, peter thought of an idea. he could go out at night, he told sadie, and slip out the back way, so that no one would see him; he would not go into crowds or brightly lighted streets, so there would be no chance of his being recognized. there was a fellow he absolutely had to see, who owed him some money; it was way over on the other side of the city—that was why he rejected jennie’s offer to accompany him.
so that evening peter climbed a back fence and stole thru a neighbor’s chicken-yard and got away. he had a fine time ducking and dodging in the crowds, making sure that no one was trailing him to his secret rendezvous—no “red” who might chance to be suspicious of his “comradeship.” it was in the “american house,” an obscure hotel, and peter was to take the elevator to the fourth floor, without speaking to any one, and to tap three times on the door of room 427. peter did so, and the door opened, and he slipped in, and there he met jerry mcgivney, with the face of a rat.
“well, what have you got?” demanded mcgivney; and peter sat down and started to tell. with eager fingers he undid the amateur sewing in the lining of his coat, and pulled out his notes with the names and descriptions of people who had come to see him.
mcgivney glanced over them quickly. “jesus!” he said, “what’s the good of all this?”
“well, but they’re reds!” exclaimed peter.
“i know,” said the other, “but what of that? we can go hear them spout at meetings any night. we got membership lists of these different organizations. but what about the goober case?”
“well,” said peter, “they’re agitating about it all the time; they’ve been printing stuff about me.”
“sure, we know that,” said mcgivney. “and the hell of a fine story you gave them; you must have enjoyed hearing yourself talk. but what good does that do us?”
“but what do you want to know?” cried peter, in dismay.
“we want to know their secret plans,” said the other. “we want to know what they’re doing to get our witnesses; we want to know who it is that is selling us out, who’s the spy in the jail. didn’t you find that out?”
“n-no,” said peter. “nobody said anything about it.”
“good god!” said the detective. “d’you expect them to bring you things on a silver tray?” he began turning over peter’s notes again, and finally threw them on the bed in disgust. he began questioning peter, and peter’s dismay turned to despair. he had not got a single thing that mcgivney wanted. his whole week of “sleuthing” had been wasted!
the detective did not mince words. “it’s plain that you’re a boob,” he said. “but such as you are, we’ve got to do the best we can with you. now, put your mind on it and get it straight: we know who these reds are, and we know what they’re teaching; we can’t send ‘em to jail for that. what we want you to find out is the name of their spy, and who are their witnesses in the goober case, and what they’re going to say.”
“but how can i find out things like that?” cried peter.
“you’ve got to use your wits,” said mcgivney. “but i’ll give you one tip; get yourself a girl.”
“a girl?” cried peter, in wonder.
“sure thing,” said the other. “that’s the way we always work. guffey says there’s just three times when people tell their secrets: the first is when they’re drunk, and the second is when they’re in love—”
then mcgivney stopped. peter, who wanted to complete his education, inquired, “and the third?”
“the third is when they’re both drunk and in love,” was the reply. and peter was silent, smitten with admiration. this business of sleuthing was revealing itself as more complicated and more fascinating all the time.
“ain’t you seen any girl you fancy in that crowd?” demanded the other.
“well—it might be—” said peter, shyly.
“it ought to be easy,” continued the detective. “them reds are all free lovers, you know.”
“free lovers!” exclaimed peter. “how do you mean?”
“didn’t you know about that?” laughed the other.
peter sat staring at him. all the women that peter had ever known or heard of took money for their love. they either took it directly, or they took it in the form of automobile rides and flowers and candy and tickets to the whang-doodle things. could it be that there were women who did not take money in either form, but whose love was entirely free?
the detective assured him that such was the case. “they boast about it,” said he. “they think it’s right.” and to peter that seemed the most shocking thing he had yet heard about the reds.
to be sure, when he thought it over, he could see that it had some redeeming points; it was decidedly convenient from the point of view of the man; it was so much money in his pocket. if women chose to be that silly—and peter found himself suddenly thinking about little jennie todd. yes, she would be that silly, it was plain to see. she gave away everything she had; so of course she would be a “free lover!”
peter went away from his rendezvous with mcgivney, thrilling with a new and wonderful idea. you couldn’t have got him to give up his job now. this sleuthing business was the real thing!
it was late when peter got home, but the two girls were sitting up for him, and their relief at his safe return was evident. he noticed that jennie’s face expressed deeper concern than her sister’s, and this gave him a sudden new emotion. jennie’s breath came and went more swiftly because he had entered the room; and this affected his own breath in the same way. he had a swift impulse towards her, an entirely unselfish desire to reassure her and relieve her anxiety; but with an instinctive understanding of the sex game which he had not before known he possessed, he checked this impulse and turned instead to the older sister, assuring her that nobody had followed him. he told an elaborate story, prepared on the way; he had worked for ten days for a fellow at sawing wood—hard work, you bet, and then the fellow had tried to get out of paying him! peter had caught him at his home that evening, and had succeeded in getting five dollars out of him, and a promise of a few dollars more every week. that was to cover future visits to mcgivney.
