“How do you mean?” asked Peter, a little puzzled. Could it be that Nell had any sympathy for these Reds?
“I mean,” she answered, “that he’d have been worth more to you than all the rest put together.”
Nell was a woman, and her mind ran to the practical aspect of things. “Look here, Peter,” she said, “you’ve been letting those ‘dicks’ work you. They’re getting the swag, and just giving you tips. What you need is somebody to take care of you.”
Peter’s heart leaped. “Will you do it?” he cried.
“I’ve got Ted on my hands,” said the girl. “He’d cut my throat, and yours too, if he knew I was here. But I’ll try to get myself free, and then maybe—I won’t promise, but I’ll think over your problem, Peter, and I’ll certainly try to help, so that McGivney and Guffey and those fellows can’t play you for a sucker any longer.”
She must have time to think it over, she said, and to make inquiries about the people involved—some of whom apparently she knew. She would meet Peter again the next day, and in a more private place than here. She named a spot in the city park which would be easy to find, and yet sufficiently remote for a quiet conference.
Section 40
Peter had been made so bold by Nell’s flattery and what she had said about his importance, that he did not go back to McGivney to take his second scolding about the Lackman case. He was getting tired of McGivney’s scoldings; if McGivney didn’t like his work, let McGivney go and be a Red for a while himself. Peter walked the streets all day and a part of the night, thinking about Nell, and thrilling over the half promises she had made him.