"Glad to know you, Mr. Petersen." Mrs. Barry held out her hand, and Petersen, without getting up, took it in his great embarrassed fist. She turned quickly about on Tom. "What d'you think about the strike?" she repeated. "Yes, what about it?" echoed Barry and Pete. "We're going to win it," Tom answered, with quiet confidence. "You think so?" "I do. We're going to win--certain!" "If you do, we women'll all take turns kissin' your shoes." "You'll be, all in a jump, the biggest labor leader in New York City!" cried Pete. "What, to put Buck Foley out o' business, an' to win a strike after the union had give it up!" Within Tom responded to this by a wild exultation, but he maintained an outward calm. "Don't lay it on so thick, Pete." He stole a glance at Maggie. She was very pale. Her eyes, coming up from her lap, met his. She rose abruptly. "I must see to my work," she said, and hurried into the kitchen. Tom's eyes came back to his friends. "Have you boys heard anything about Foley?" "He ain't been caught yet," answered Pete. "He'll never be," Tom declared. Then after a moment's thought he went on with conviction: "Boys, if Foley had had a fair start and had been honest, he'd have been the biggest thing that ever happened in the labor world." Their loyalty prompted the others to take strong exception to this. "No, I wouldn't have been in his class," Tom said decidedly, and led the talk to the probabilities of the next few days. They chatted on for half an hour longer, then all four departed. Pete, however, turned at the door and came back. "I almost forgot, Tom. There was something else. O' course you didn't hear about Johnson. You know there's been someone in the union--more'n one, I bet--that's been keepin' the bosses posted on all we do. Well, Johnson got himself outside o' more'n a few last night, an' began to get in some lively jaw-work. The boys got on from what he said that he'd been doin' the spy business for a long time--that he'd seen Baxter just before the meetin'. Well, a few things happened right then an' there. I won't tell you what, but I got an idea Johnson sorter thinks this ain't just the health resort for his kind o' disease." Tom said nothing. Here was confirmation of, and addition to, one sentence in the detectives' report. Pete had been gone hardly more than a minute when he was back for the third time. "Say, Tom, guess where Petersen's movin'?" he called out from the dining-room door. "I never can." "On the floor above! A wagon load o' new furniture just pulled up down in front. I met Petersen an' his wife comin' in. Petersen was carryin' a bran' new baby carriage." Pete's news had immediate corroboration. As he was going out Tom heard a thin voice ask, "Is Mr. Keating in?" and heard Maggie answer, "Go right through the next door;" and there was Mrs. Petersen, her child in her arms, coming radiantly toward him.