Her hands flew in eager questions and the man answered her.
“Oh!” she cried. “The riots are a blind to draw away the police and the troops. They’re marching against the Blackstone Hotel now—a thousand German spies—with rifles.”
The Blackstone Hotel! I realised in a moment what that meant. The German Crown Prince was still a prisoner at the Blackstone, in charge of General Langhorne. It was a serious handicap to the enemy that we held in our power the heir to the German throne. They dared not resort to reprisals against America lest Frederick William suffer.
“They mean to rescue the Crown Prince?”
“Yes.”
I rushed to the telephone to call up police headquarters, but the wires were dead—German spies had seen to that.
“Come!” I said, seizing her arm. “We must hustle over to the auditorium.”
Fortunately the great recruiting hall was only a few blocks distant and as we hurried there Miss Ryerson explained that the furnace man, Stephen, before coming to us, had run to McCormick College, the Chicago home for deaf students, and given the alarm.
“What good will that do?”
“What good! These McCormick boys have military drill. They are splendid shots. Stephen says fifty of them will hold the Germans until our troops get there.”