“Against a company of the National Guard?” said the official contemptuously. “I could have them here in ten minutes.”
“That would mean bloodshed.”
“It’s what I dread. Some of those young idiots might be killed.”
“And their ghosts rise up between you and the senatorship,” pointed out Jeremy. “If the charge of official murder were raised against you, it would kill your chances. Rappelje may have figured that out, though I would n’t suppose he’d be so keen in politics.”
Black shadows of brooding settled upon Embree’s handsome face.
“I’ll arrest that frantic fool of a professor,” he muttered. “I’ll arrest him now. Nobody can call me a traitor!”
Jeremy made up his mind, and struck:
“Can’t they? Read to-night’s Guardian.”
“T-t-to-night’s—Wh-wh-what!” stuttered Embree. “Jem! You’re not going back on me?”
“Going back on you! Have n’t you gone back on me? Have n’t you gone back on the State? On the country? Did n’t you pledge yourself to appoint a representative American Council of Defense? Where did you get your list? By cable from Berlin?”