his representative of a political system that you and men like
you have overthrown for all time. Is this the man you'll take your
orders from? Or from the Union of Russian Workers which hates and kills
all oppressors who stand in the way of the rights and liberties of the
workers of the world!"

A roar of negation went up from the rear of the room, and an ominous
murmur spread from man to man. Only those grouped around Peter, some
Americans, the Scot, Brierly, the ex-soldier, Jesse Brown, and one or
two of the Italians remained silent, but whether in awe of Peter or of
his position could not be determined. But Peter still stood, his hands
in his pockets, firm of jaw and unruffled. It has been said that Peter
had a commanding air when he chose and when he slowly raised a hand for
silence the uncouth "Reds" at the rear of the room obeyed him, the
menacing growl sinking to a mere murmur. But he waited until perfect
silence was restored. And then quietly,

"What this man has said is true," he announced calmly. "I _am_ Peter
Nicholaevitch. I came to America as you have come--to make my way. What
does it matter who my fathers were? I am not responsible for what my
fathers did before me. I am only responsible for what I am--myself. If
this man in whom you put your trust would speak the truth, he would tell
you that I tried to bring peace and brotherhood into the part of Russia
where I lived----"

"He lies----"

"I speak the truth. There people knew that I was their friend. They came
to me for advice. I helped them----"

"Then why did they burn down your castle?" broke in Yakimov
triumphantly.

"Because people such as you from the Soviet came among honest and
peaceful men, trying to make them as mad as you--I came from Russia to
find new life, work, peace and happiness. I came to build. You came to
destroy. And I intend to build and you shall not destroy. If the madness
of Russia comes to Black Rock it will be because mad dogs come foaming
at the mouth and making others mad----"

A savage cry went up and a glass came hurtling at Peter's head, but it
missed him and crashed against the wall behind him. That crash of glass
liberated the pent-up forces in the hearts of these men, for in a moment
the place was in a furious uproar, the men aligning themselves in two
camps, that of Peter and his friends much the smaller.

Peter retreated a pace or two as a shot was fired from a revolver, but
the Scot and Brierly and two of t