“Something terrible is going to happen tonight,” she said. “There will be riots all over Chicago.”
I asked how she knew this and she explained that a deaf and dumb man named Stephen, who took care of the furnace, a man in whose rather pathetic case she had interested herself, had told her. It seems he also took care of the furnace in a neighbouring house which was occupied by a queer German club, really a gathering place of German spies.
“He overheard things there and told me,” she said seriously, whereupon I burst out laughing.
“What? A deaf and dumb man?”
“You know what I mean. He reads the lips and I know the sign language.”
The main point was that this furnace man had begged Miss Ryerson not to leave her boardinghouse until he returned. He had gone back to the German club, where he hoped to get definite information of an impending catastrophe.
“It’s some big coup they are planning for tonight,” she said. “We must wait here.”
So we waited and presently, along Wabash Avenue, with crashing bands and a roar of angry voices, came an anti-militarist socialist parade with floats and banners presenting fire-brand sentiments that called forth jeers and hisses from crowds along the sidewalks or again enthusiastic cheers from other crowds of contrary mind.
“You see, there’s going to be trouble,” trembled the girl, clutching my arm. “Read that!”
A huge float was rolling past bearing this pledge in great red letters: