waited too long. Ever so often in the life of every nation came
these periodic outbursts of discontent, economic in their origin, and
ran their course like diseases, contagious, violent and deadly.

The commune always followed long and costly wars. The people would
dance, but they revolted at paying the piper.

The plan in Seattle had been well enough conceived; the city light plant
was to have been taken over during the early evening of February 6, and
at ten o'clock that night the city was to have gone dark. But the reign
of terrorization that was to follow had revolted Jim Osborne, one
of their leaders, and from his hotel bedroom he had notified the
authorities. Word had gone out to "get" Osborne.

If it had not been for Osborne, and the conservative element behind him,
a flame would have been kindled at Seattle that would have burnt across
the nation.

Doyle watched Gompers cynically.. He considered his advocacy of
patriotic cooperation between labor and the Government during the war
the skillful attitude of an opportunist. Gompers could do better with
public opinion behind him than without it. He was an opportunist, riding
the wave which would carry him farthest. Playing both ends against the
middle, and the middle, himself. He saw Gompers, watching the release
of tension that followed the armistice and seeing the great child he
had fathered, grown now and conscious of its power,--watching it, fully
aware that it had become stronger than he.

Gompers, according to Doyle, had ceased to be a leader and become a
follower, into strange and difficult paths.

The war had made labor's day. No public move was made without consulting
organized labor, and a certain element in it had grown drunk with power.
To this element Doyle appealed. It was Doyle who wrote the carefully
prepared incendiary speeches, which were learned verbatim by his
agents for delivery. For Doyle knew one thing, and knew it well. Labor,
thinking along new lines, must think along the same lines. Be taught the
same doctrines. Be pushed in one direction.

There were, then, two Doyles, one the poseur, flaunting his outrageous
doctrines with a sardonic grin, gathering about him a small circle of
the intelligentsia, and too openly heterodox to be dangerous. And the
other, secretly plotting against the city, wary, cautious, practical and
deadly, waiting to overthrow the established order and substitute for it
chaos. It was only incidental to him that o