Peter found that he was something of a personality in this hospital.
He was the “star” witness in the sensational Goober case, about
which the whole city, and in fact the whole country was talking. It
was known that he had “turned State’s”; but just what he knew and
what he had told was a mighty secret, and Peter “held his mouth” and
looked portentous, and enjoyed thrills of self-importance.
But meantime there was no reason why he should not listen to others
talk; no reason why he should not inform himself fully about this
case, so that in future he might be able to take care of himself. He
listened to what “Old Man” Doobman had to say, and to what Jan
Christian, his Swedish assistant had to say, and to what Gerald
Leslie, the “coke” fiend, had to say. All these, and others, had
friends on the outside, people who were “in the know.” Some told one
thing, and others told exactly the opposite; but Peter put this and
that together, and used his own intrigue-sharpened wits upon it, and
before long he was satisfied that he had got the facts.
Jim Goober was a prominent labor leader. He had organized the
employees of the Traction Trust, and had called and led a tremendous
strike. Also he had called building strikes, and some people said he
had used dynamite upon uncompleted buildings, and made a joke of it.
Anyhow, the business men of the city wanted to put him where he
could no longer trouble them; and when some maniac unknown had flung
a dynamite bomb into the path of the Preparedness parade, the big
fellows of the city had decided that now was the opportunity they
were seeking. Guffey, the man who had taken charge of Peter, was
head of the secret service of the Traction Trust, and the big
fellows had put him in complete charge. They wanted action, and
would take no chances with the graft-ridden and incompetent police
of the city. They had Goober in jail, with his wife and three of his
gang, and thru the newspapers of the city they were carrying on a
propaganda to prepare the public for the hanging of all five.
And that was all right, of course; Jim Goober was only a name to
Peter, and of less importance than a single one of Peter’s meals.
Peter understood what Guffey had done, and his only grudge was
because Guffey had not had the sense to tell him his story at the
beginning, instead of first nearly twisting his arm off. However,
Peter reflected, no doubt Guffey had meant to teach him a lesson, to
make sure of him. Peter had learned the lesson, and his purpose now
was to make this clear to Guffey and to Doobman.
“Hold your mouth,” Guffey had said, and Peter never once said a word
about the Goober case. But, of course, he talked about other
matters. A fellow could not go around like a mummy all day long, and
it was Peter’s weakness that he liked to tell about his exploits,
the clever devices by which he had outwitted his last “Old Man.” So
to Gerald Leslie, the “coke” fiend, he told the story of Pericles
Priam, and how many thousands of dollars he had helped to wheedle
out of the public, and how twice he and Pericles had been arrested
for swindling. Also he told about the Temple of Jimjambo, and all
the strange and incredible things that had gone on there. Pashtian
el Kalandra, who called himself the Chief Magistrian of
Eleutherinian Exoticism, gave himself out to his followers to be
eighty years of age, but as a matter of fact he was less than forty.
He was supposed to be a Persian prince, but had been born in a small
town in Indiana, and had begun life as a grocer-boy. He was supposed
to live upon a handful of fruit, but every day it had been Peter’s
job to assist in the preparation of a large beef-steak or a roast
chicken. These were “for sacrificial purposes,” so the prophet
explained to his attendants; and Peter would get the remains of the
sacrificial beef-steaks and chickens, and would sacrificially devour
them behind the pantry door. That had been one of his private
grafts, which he got in return for keeping secret from the prophet
some of the stealings of Tushbar Akrogas, the major-domo.
A wonderful place had been this Temple of Jimjambo. There were
mystic altars with seven veils before them, and thru these the Chief
Magistrian would appear, clad in a long cream-colored robe with gold
and purple borders, and with pink embroidered slippers and symbolic
head-dress. His lectures and religious rites had been attended by
hundreds--many of them rich society women, who came rolling up to
the temple in their limousines. Also there had been a school, where
children had been initiated into the mystic rites of the cult. The
prophet would take these children into his private apartments, and
there were awful rumors--which had ended in the raiding of the
temple by the police, and the flight of the prophet, and likewise of
the majordomo, and of Peter Gudge, his scullion and confederate.
Also, Peter thought it was fun to tell Gerald Leslie about his
adventures with the Holy Rollers, into whose church he had drifted
during his search for a job. Peter had taken up with this sect, and
learned the art of “talking in tongues,” and how to fall over the
back of your chair in convulsions of celestial glory. Peter had
gained the confidence of the Rev. Gamaliel Lunk, and had been
secretly employed by him to carry on a propaganda among the
congregation to obtain a raise in salary for the underpaid
convulsionist. But certain things which Peter had learned had caused
him to go over to the faction of Shoemaker Smithers, who was trying
to persuade the congregation that he could roll harder and faster
than the Rev. Gamaliel. Peter had only held this latter job a few
days before he had been fired for stealing the fried doughnut.