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Page 28
But voices assailing him on every side brought him to the
necessity of the moment. Men were pressing close upon him,
jostling, abusing him, shaking fists in his face. Another
crowd of men, as though fearing the car would escape of its
own volition, were clinging to the steps and running boards.
Winthrop saw Miss Forbes standing above them, talking eagerly
to Peabody, and pointing at him. He heard children's shrill
voices calling to new arrivals that an automobile had killed a
man; that it had killed him on purpose. On the outer edge of
the crowd men shouted: "Ah, soak him," "Kill him," "Lynch
him."
A soiled giant without a collar stooped over the purple,
blood-stained face, and then leaped upright, and shouted:
"It's Jerry Gaylor, he's killed old man Gaylor."
The response was instant. Every one seemed to know Jerry
Gaylor.
Winthrop took the soiled person by the arm.
"You help me lift him into my car," he ordered. "Take him by
the shoulders. We must get him to a hospital."
"To a hospital? To the Morgue!" roared the man. "And the
police station for yours. You don't do no get-away."
Winthrop answered him by turning to the crowd. "If this man
has any friends here, they'll please help me put him in my
car, and we'll take him to Roosevelt Hospital."
The soiled person shoved a fist and a bad cigar under
Winthrop's nose.
"Has he got any friends?" he mocked. "Sure, he's got friends,
and they'll fix you, all right."
"Sure!" echoed the crowd.
The man was encouraged.
"Don't you go away thinking you can come up here with your
buzz wagon and murder better men nor you'll ever be and----"
"Oh, shut up!" said Winthrop.
He turned his back on the soiled man, and again appealed to
the crowd.
"Don't stand there doing nothing," he commanded. "Do you want
this man to die? Some of you ring for an ambulance and get a
policeman, or tell me where is the nearest drug store."
No one moved, but every one shouted to every one else to do as
Winthrop suggested.
Winthrop felt something pulling at his sleeve, and turning,
found Peabody at his shoulder peering fearfully at the figure
in the street. He had drawn his cap over his eyes and hidden
the lower part of his face in the high collar of his motor
coat. "I can't do anything, can I?" he asked.
"I'm afraid not," whispered Winthrop. "Go back to the car and
don't leave Beatrice. I'll attend to this."
"That's what I thought," whispered Peabody eagerly. "I
thought she and I had better keep out of it."
"Right!" exclaimed Winthrop. "Go back and get Beatrice away."
Peabody looked his relief, but still hesitated.
"I can't do anything, as you say," he stammered, "and it's sure
to get in the `extras,' and they'll be out in time to lose us
thousands of votes, and though no one is to blame, they're
sure to blame me. I don't care about myself," he added
eagerly, "but the very morning of election--half the city has
not voted yet--the Ticket----"
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