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Updated: June 2, 2025
Peter might have had his share of this only he had been fool enough to let the bird get out of his net! Peter offered to follow the young man to his home city, and find some way to lure him back into McGivney's power. After McGivney had stormed for a while, he decided that this might be possible. He would talk it over with the others, and let Peter know.
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!
Peter found that McGivney's device had worked perfectly. Peter was now a martyr and a hero; his position as one of the "left wingers" was definitely established, and anyone who ventured to say a word against him would be indignantly rebuked. As a matter of fact, no one desired to say much. Pat McCormick, Peter's enemy, was out on an organizing trip among the oil workers.
McGivney's voice was angry, McGivney's face was dark and glowering, and most incredible circumstance of all McGivney had a revolver in his hand, and was pointing it into Peter's face!
He would get so far, and every time it would be as if he had run into a stone wall. No farther! Peter realized that McGivney's "free love" talk had been a cruel mistake. Little Jennie was like all the other women her love wasn't going to be "free."
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.
At last an automobile rushed up the street, and McGivney stepped out, and the automobile sped on. Peter got McGivney's eye, and then stepped back into the shelter of a doorway. McGivney followed. "Have you got them?" he cried. "I d-d-dunno!" chattered Peter. "They s-s-said they were c-coming at eight!"
He took a trolley ride out into the country, and walked a couple of miles to the palace on the hilltop, and mounted thru a grove of trees and magnificent Italian gardens. According to McGivney's injunctions, he summoned his courage, and went to the front door of the stately mansion and rang the bell.
But it was McGivney's idea that Peter should slip into the instructions some phrase advising the young men to refuse military duty; if this were printed and circulated, it would render every member of the Anti-conscription League liable to a sentence of ten or twenty years in jail. McGivney had warned Peter to be very cautious about this, but again Peter found that there was no need of caution.
"You damned fool!" was McGivney's response. "We wanted to get him here, where we could pluck him ourselves." The rat-faced man hadn't intended to tell Peter so much, but in his rage he let it out. He and a couple of his friends had planned to "get something" on this young millionaire, and scare the wits out of him, with the idea that he would put up a good many thousand dollars to be let off.
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