That consultation is one of the most ludicrous of my memories. Benson, sitting in an arm-chair, in blue silk pajamas, smoking cigarettes, outlined the plan in his fervent, profane, pyrotechnic way—much of which was beyond their comprehension. Kaufmann had to translate it into German for Lipsky. And when we talked German, Dowd could not understand. "But," said Herr Lipsky, when the posters had been translated to him, "there is nothing there about our principles. There is no word about surplus value. It is not the red lantern we are fighting—but the Kapitalismus." "The people," Benson raged—"the people with votes don’t know surplus value from the binominal theorem. Perhaps they will vote for their daughters—they can see them. But they won’t get excited about their great-great-grandchildren." There was a squabble among the committee-men. The Scotchman was too canny to take sides; he wanted to refer the matter to the local, which was not to meet until two days before the election. "Aber," said the brewery man, "Ve need etwas gongrete." Lipsky accused him of being a "reformer." After an hour’s wrangle, it was decided that they could not stop us from attacking Root. But we were to hold up the posters asking votes for Lipsky. He would not permit his name to be used without the consent of the local. As they were going downstairs, I heard Kaufmann protesting—"Aber, Genossen—ich bin eine echte revoluzionaire!" So Benson ran the campaign unaided. The effect of his posters was electric. The next day he brought out some more:— "ASK THE OLD MAN." Of course they both denied. But as the posters made no specific allegations, they did not know what to deny. Their output was conflicting. During the afternoon, Benson stirred things up again with a series— "IF ROOT WON’T TELL, ASK ’PIGGY’ BREEN." Breen was rattled, and said it was all a lie, that the red light business had not been discussed at the meeting in Billy Bryan’s saloon. Both Root and the Old Man had denied the meeting. So Benson had them on the run. The more they explained the worse they tangled things. The cadet from whom I had forced our information, fearing the wrath of The Old Man, was of course keeping his mouth shut. We did not give away on him. So they could not guess Benson’s source of knowledge, and would have given anything to know just how much he knew.