The telephone
rang, and he took up the receiver, and told somebody he was too busy
now to talk; they would have to call him later. He had another
coughing spell, so that Peter thought he was going to choke, and had
to help him get some medicine down his throat. Peter was a little
bit shocked to see such obvious and abject fear in one of the gods.
After all, they were just men, these Olympians, as much subject to
pain and death as Peter Gudge himself!
Also Peter was surprised to find how "easy" Mr. Ackerman was. He
made no lofty pretence of being indifferent to the Reds. He put
himself at Peter's mercy, to be milked at Peter's convenience. And
Peter would make the most of this opportunity.
"Now, Mr. Ackerman," he began, "You can see it wouldn't be any use
to tell things like that to the police. They dunno how to handle
such a situation; the honest truth is, they don't take these Reds
serious. They'll spend ten times as much money to catch a plain
burglar as they will to watch a whole gang like this."
"How can they have got into my home?" cried the old man.
"They get in by ways you'd never dream of, Mr. Ackerman. They have
people who agree with them. Why, you got no idea, there's some
preachers that are Reds, and some college teachers, and some rich
men like yourself.
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