or stood several other men, more or less in a state of collapse like
himself; people who had failed to satisfy the police, and were being
held under guard.

Peter's two policemen backed him against the wall and proceeded to
go thru his pockets, producing the shameful contents--a soiled rag,
and two cigarette butts picked up on the street, and a broken pipe,
and a watch which had once cost a dollar, but was now out of order,
and too badly damaged to be pawned. That was all they had any right
to find, so far as Peter knew. But there came forth one thing
more--the printed circular which Peter had thrust into his pocket.
The policeman who pulled it out took a glance at it, and then cried,
"Good God!" He stared at Peter, then he stared at the other
policeman and handed him the paper.

At that moment the man not in uniform entered the room. "Mr.
Guffey!" cried the policeman. "See this!" The man took the paper,
and glanced at it, and Peter, watching with bewildered and
fascinated eyes, saw a most terrifying sight. It was as if the man
went suddenly out of his mind. He glared at Peter, and under his
black eyebrows the big staring eyes seemed ready to jump out of his
head.

"Aha!" he exclaimed; and then, "So I've got you!" The hand that held
the paper was trembling, and the other hand reached out like a great
claw, and fastened itself in the neck of Peter's coat, and drew it
together until Peter was squeezed tight. "You threw that bomb!"
hissed the man.

"Wh-what?" gasped Peter, his voice almost fainting. "B-b-bomb?"