He started away. The Swede, with no further words, fell into step beside him. For several blocks they walked in silence, then Tom came to a pause before a tenement in which lived a member of the union. "Good-by, Petersen," he said. "Goo'-by," said Petersen. They shook hands. When Tom came into the street ten minutes later there was Petersen standing just where he had left him. Again the Swede fell into step. Tom, though embarrassed and irritated by the man's silent, persistent company, held back his words. At the second stop Tom said shortly: "I'll be here a long while. You needn't wait." But when he came down from the call, which he had purposely extended, Petersen was waiting beside the steps. This was too much for Tom. "Where are you going?" he demanded. "'Long you," the Swede answered slowly. "I don't know's I need you," Tom returned shortly, and started away. For half a dozen paces there was no sound but his own heel-clicks. Then he heard the heel-clicks of the Swede. He turned about in exasperation. "See here! What's your idea in following me around like this?" Petersen shifted his feet uncomfortably. "De man, last night, he say----" He finished by placing his bony fists successively on either side of his jaw. "I tank maybe I be 'long, I be some good." A light broke in on Tom. And he thought of the photograph on Petersen's leprous wall. He shoved out his hand. "Put it there, Petersen!" he said. And all that evening Tom's silent companion marched through the streets beside him. Chapter XV MR. BAXTER HAS A FEW CONFERENCES Captains of war have it as a common practice to secure information, in such secret ways as they can, about their opponents' plans and movements, and to develop their own plans to match these; and this practice has come into usage among captains of industry. The same afternoon that Jake brought news of Tom's scheme to Foley, a man of furtive glance whom a member of the union would have recognized as Johnson requested the youth in the outer office of Baxter & Co. to carry his name to the head of the firm. "Wha' d'youse want to see him 'bout?" demanded the uniform. "A job." "No good. He don't hire nobody but the foremen." "It's a foreman's job I'm after," returned Johnson, glancing about. The debate continued, but in the end Johnson's name went in to Mr. Baxter, and Johnson himself soon followed it. When he came out Mr. Baxter's information was as complete as Buck Foley's. That evening Johnson's news came into the conversation of Mr. Baxter and his wife. After dinner she drew him into the library--a real library, booked to the ceiling on three sides, an open wood fire on the other--to tell him of a talk she had had that day with chance-met Ruth. With an aunt's privilege she had asked about the state of affairs between her and Mr. Berman.