He look his cab and
went to his quarters. He ate a hurried breakfast, and then went down
into the streets. They seemed peaceably active as he walked through
them. A small boy was calling an extra, but it was in reference to the
arrival of a much-expected racing-yacht. There was nothing to show that
a great business depression rested with crushing weight on the city, and
especially on the poor; that anarchy was lifting its head, and from
hungering for bread was coming to hunger for blood and blaze; that
capital and labor were preparing to lock arms in a struggle which
perhaps meant death and destruction.
The armory door was opened only wide enough to let a man squeeze
through, and was guarded by a keeper. Peter passed in, however, without
question, and heard a hum of voices which showed that if anarchy was
gathering, so too was order. Peter called his officers together, and
gave a few orders. Then he turned and whispered for a moment with
Dennis.
"They don't put us there, sir!" exclaimed Dennis.
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