The job was now complete, except for getting McCormick to the
rendezvous next morning. Nell had prepared and would mail in the
postoffice a special delivery letter addressed to McCormick’s home.
This would be delivered about seven o’clock in the morning, and
inside was a typewritten note, as follows:
“Mac: Come to Room 17 of the studios at eight in the morning. Very
important. Our plan is all ready, my part is done. Joe.”
Nell figured that McCormick would take this to be a message from
Angell. He wouldn’t know what it was about, but he’d be all the more
certain to come and find out. The essential thing was that the raid
by the detectives must occur the very minute the conspirators got
together, for as soon as they compared notes they would become
suspicious, and might scatter at once. McGivney must have his men
ready; he must be notified and have plenty of time to get them
ready.
But there was a serious objection to this--if McGivney had time, he
would demand a talk with Peter, and Nell was sure that Peter
couldn’t stand a cross-questioning at McGivney’s hands. Peter,
needless to say, agreed with her; his heart threatened to collapse
at the thought of such an ordeal. What Peter really wanted to do was
to quit the whole thing right there and then; but he dared not say
so, he dared not face the withering scorn of his confederate. Peter
clenched his hands and set his teeth, and when he passed a street
light he turned his face away, so that Nell might not read the
humiliating terror written there. But Nell read it all the same;
Nell believed that she was dealing with a quivering, pasty-faced
coward, and proceeded on that basis; she worked out the plans, she
gave Peter his orders, and she stuck by him to see that he carried
them out.
Peter had McGivney’s home telephone number, which he was only
supposed to use in the most desperate emergency. He was to use it
now, and tell McGivney that he had just caught some members of the
I. W. W., with Pat McCormick as their leader, preparing to blow up
some people with dynamite bombs. They had some bombs in a suit-case
in their headquarters, and were just starting out with other bombs
in their pockets. Peter must follow them, otherwise he would lose
them, and some crime might be committed before he could interfere.
McGivney must have his agents ready with automobiles to swoop down
upon any place that Peter indicated. Peter would follow up the
conspirators, and phone McGivney again at the first opportunity he
could find.
Nell was especially insistent that when Peter spoke to McGivney he
must have only a moment to spare, no time for questions, and he must
not stop to answer any. He must be in a state of trembling
excitement; and Peter was sure that would be very easy! He rehearsed
over to Nell every word he must say, and just how he was to cut
short the conversation and hang up the receiver. Then he went into
an all night drug-store just around the corner from the
headquarters, and from a telephone booth called McGivney’s home.
It was an apartment house, and after some delay Peter heard the
voice of his employer, surly with sleep. But Peter waked him up
quickly. “Mr. McGivney, there’s a dynamite plot!”
“_What_?”
“I. W. W. They’ve got bombs in a suit-case! They’re starting off to
blow somebody up tonight.”
“By God! What do you mean? Who?”
“I dunno yet. I only heard part of it, and I’ve got to go. They’re
starting, I’ve got to follow them. I may lose them and it’ll be too
late. You hear me, I’ve got to follow them!”
“I hear you. What do you want me to do?”
“I’ll phone you again the first chance I get. You have your men
ready, a dozen of them! Have automobiles, so you can come quick. You
get me?”
“Yes, but--”
“I can’t talk any more, I may lose them, I haven’t a second! You be
at your phone, and have your men ready--everything ready. You get
me?”
“Yes, but listen, man! You sure you’re not mistaken?”
“Yes, yes, I’m sure!” cried Peter, his voice mounting in excitement.
“They’ve got the dynamite, I tell you--everything! It’s a man named
Nelse.”
“Nelse what?”
“The man they’re going to kill. I’ve got to go now, you get ready.
Good-bye!” And Peter hung up the receiver. He had got so excited
over the part he was playing that he sprang up and ran out of the
drug-store, as if he really had to catch up with some I. W. W.
conspirators carrying a dynamite bomb!
But there was Nell, and they strolled down the street again. They
came to a small park, and sat on one of the benches, because Peter’s
legs would no longer hold him up. Nell walked about to make sure
there was no one on any of the other benches; then she came back and
rehearsed the next scene with Peter. They must go over it most
carefully, because before long the time was coming when Peter
wouldn’t have Nell to coach him, and must be prepared to stand on
his own legs. Peter knew that, and his legs failed him. He wanted to
back down, and declare that he couldn’t go ahead with it; he wanted
to go to McGivney and confess everything. Nell divined what was
going on in his soul, and wished to save him the humiliation of
having it known. She sat close to him on the bench, and put her hand
on his as she talked to him, and presently Peter felt a magic thrill
stealing over him. He ventured to put his arm about Nell, to get
still more of this delicious sensation; and Nell permitted the
embraces, for the first time she even encouraged them. Peter was a
hero now, he was undertaking a bold and desperate venture; he was
going to put it thru like a man, and win Nell’s real admiration.
“Our country’s at war!” she exclaimed. “And these devils are
stopping it!”
So pretty soon Peter was ready to face the whole world; Peter was
ready to go himself and blow up the king of American City with a
dynamite bomb! In that mood he stayed thru the small hours of the
morning, sitting on the bench clasping his girl in his arms, and
wishing she would give a little more time to heeding his
love-making, and less to making him recite his lessons.