"A mistake! Hah--that is what you think. You do not know. I tell you that I have turned a trick that will win for me the game. Already the people are rallying to me. I have put McIver at last in a hole from which he will not escape. The Mill workers are ready _now_ to do anything I say. You will see--to-morrow I will have these employers and all their capitalist class eating out of my hand. To me they shall beg for mercy. I--I will dictate the terms to them and they will pay. You may take my word--they will pay." The man paced to and fro with the triumphant air of a conqueror, and his voice rang with his exultation. "No, Jake Vodell," said the Interpreter, calmly. "You are deceiving yourself. Your dreams are as vain as your mistake is fatal." The man faced the old basket maker suddenly, as if arrested by a possible meaning in the Interpreter's words that had not at first caught his attention. "And what is this mistake that I have made?" he growled. The answer came with solemn portent. "You have killed the wrong man." The agitator was stunned. His mouth opened as if he would speak, but no word came from his trembling lips. He drew back as if to escape. The old man in the wheel chair continued, sadly, "_I_ am the one you should have killed--I am the cause of your failure to gain the support of the Mill workers' union." The strike leader recovered himself with a shrug of his heavy shoulders. "So that is it," he sneered; "you would accuse me of shooting your Captain Charlie, heh?" "You have accused yourself, sir." "But how?" "By the use you are making of Captain Charlie's death. If you did not know who committed the crime--if you did not feel sure that the identity of the assassin would remain a mystery to the people--you would not dare risk charging the employers with it." With an oath the other returned, "I tell you that McIver or his hired gunmen did it so they could lay the blame on the strikers and so turn the Mill workers' union against us. That is what the Mill men believe." "That is what you want them to believe. It is an old trick, Vodell. You have used it before." The agitator's eyes narrowed under his scowling brows. "Look here," he growled, "I do not like this talk of yours. Perhaps you had better prove what you charge, heh?" "Please God, I will prove it," came the calm answer. Jake Vodell, as he looked down upon the seemingly helpless old man in the wheel chair, was thinking, "It would be safer if this old basket maker were not permitted to speak these things to others--his influence, after all, is a thing to consider." "No, Jake Vodell," said the Interpreter gently, "you won't do it. Billy Rand is watching us. If you make a move to do what you are thinking, Billy will kill you." The Interpreter raised his hand and his silent companion came quickly to stand beside his chair. With a shrug of his shoulders Vodell drew back a few steps toward the door.