“In Russia, yes,” admitted Palla.
“Everywhere, dearest. Here, also.”
“I believe there are scarcely any in America,” insisted Palla.
“The country crawls with them,” retorted Ilse. “They work like moles, but already if you look about you can see the earth stirring above their tunnels. They are here, everywhere, active, scheming, plotting, whispering treason, stirring discontent, inciting envy, teaching treason.
“They are the Russians––Christians and Jews––who have filtered in here to do the nation mischief. They are the Germans who blew up factories, set fires, scuttled ships. They are foreigners who came here poisoned with envy; who have acquired nothing; whose greed and ferocity are whetted and ready for a universal conflagration by which they alone could profit.
“They are the labour leaders who break faith and incite to violence; they are the I. W. W.; they are the Black Hand, the Camorra; they are the penniless who would slay and rob; the landless who would kill and seize; the ignorant, nursing suspicion; the shiftless, brooding crimes to bring them riches quickly.
“And, Palla, your Law of Love and Service is good. But not for these.”
“What law for them, then?”
“Education. Maybe with machine guns.”
Palla shook her head. “Is that the way to educate defectives?”