Peter went on moaning and sobbing.

“Shut up!” cried the man.  And then, fixing Peter’s frightened gaze with his own, he continued, “Understand, you got a chance to save yourself.  All you got to do is to tell what you know.  Then you can come out and you won’t have any more trouble.  We’ll take good care of you; everything’ll be easy for you.”

Peter continued to gaze like a fascinated rabbit.  And such a longing as surged up in his soul—­to be free, and out of trouble, and taken care of!  If only he had known anything to tell; if only there was some way he could find out something to tell!

Section 7

Suddenly the man reached out and grasped one of Peter’s hands.  He twisted the wrist again, the sore wrist which still ached from the torture.  “Will you tell?”

“I’d tell if I could!” screamed Peter.  “My God, how can I?”

“Don’t lie to me,” hissed the man.  “I know about it now, you can’t fool me.  You know Jim Goober.”

“I never heard of him!” wailed Peter.

“You lie!” declared the other, and he gave Peter’s wrist a twist.

“Yes, yes, I know him!” shrieked Peter.

“Oh, that’s more like it!” said the other.  “Of course you know him.  What sort of a looking man is he?”

“I—­I dunno.  He’s a big man.”

“You lie!  You know he’s a medium-sized man!”

“He’s a medium-sized man.”

“A dark man?”

“Yes, a dark man.”

“And you know Mrs. Goober, the music teacher?”

“Yes, I know her.”

“And you’ve been to her house?”

“Yes, I’ve been to her house.”

“Where is their house?”

“I dunno—­that is—­”

“It’s on Fourth Street?”

“Yes, it’s on Fourth Street.”

“And he hired you to carry that suit-case with the bombs in it, didn’t he?”

“Yes, he hired me.”

“And he told you what was in it, didn’t he?”

“He—­he—­that is—­I dunno.”

“You don’t know whether he told you?”

“Y-y-yes, he told me.”

“You knew all about the plot, didn’t you?”

“Y-y-yes, I knew.”

“And you know Isaacs, the Jew?”

“Y-y-yes, I know him.”

“He was the fellow that drove the jitney, wasn’t he?”

“Y-y-yes, he drove the jitney.”

“Where did he drive it?”

“H-h-he drove it everywhere.”

“He drove it over here with the suit-case, didn’t he?”

“Yes, he did.”

“And you know Biddle, and you know what he did, don’t you?”

“Yes, I know.”

“And you’re willing to tell all you know about it, are you?”

“Yes, I’ll tell it all.  I’ll tell whatever you—­”

“You’ll tell whatever you know, will you?”

“Y-y-yes, sir.”

“And you’ll stand by it?  You’ll not try to back out?  You don’t want to go back into the hole?”