The conversation left me feeling a little better. Sid and Gus, after all, knew Ryan well. If he was involved in any shady activities, surely he'd have dropped hints to them. Ryan didn't seem the type who would hold his tongue too successfully. But I decided it couldn't do any harm to ask a few more questions. So after breakfast I presented myself again at Lennie's studio. Lennie was delighted to see me.
“My lovely model has returned to me,” he said. “I finished the first sketch of you last night. As soon as the paint dries, it's off to a gallery to make me rich.”
“I don't know if I like the thought of myself hanging in someone's gallery without any clothes on,” I said.
He laughed. “You'll be the toast of New York. You'll have suitors battering your door down.”
“Hardly a comforting thought,” I said, and removed my clothes behind the screen.
“So how was your adventure with Ryan last night?” Lennie asked, as I perched on the stool and he draped fabric around me. “He took you with him to visit Emma, didn't he?”
“It was interesting,” I said.
He chuckled.‘They are a rum bunch, aren't they? That Emma creature and her followers. I have no idea what he sees in her. He usually goes more for glamour and status. And yet, if she snaps her fingers, he comes running.”
“Have you ever been to one of her meetings?” I hadn't forgotten that his initials were L.C.
“Me? You wouldn't catch me wasting my time with a group like that. I have no wish to overthrow society. I like things the way they are. Give me enough money to buy paint and beer and a good pastrami sandwich at the delicatessen and I am content.”
“So you really think that Ryan is under her influence, do you?” I asked, staring past him out of the window, so that I wouldn't appear too interested. Pigeons were settling on the coping opposite. I watched their fluttering and strutting. “It was hard to tell from one brief visit last night. He wouldn't really do something stupid if she commanded him to?”
“What sort of stupid thing did you have in mind? Hurling a bomb like the anarchists do in Europe?”
I attempted an unconcerned laugh. “No, I can't see Ryan hurling a bomb.”
“And what would he wish to blow up? America has welcomed him with open arms and he displays no interest in going home to take up the Irish cause. What made you ask that question?”
“Nothing. Forget that I asked it.”
Lennie daubed on paint in silence.
“Although he did consider blowing up Buckingham Palace once,” Lennie went on. “But I think he only toyed with the idea for the drama it caused. You know Ryan. He lives for the dramatic.”
I left the studio two hours later. If Lennie was really the LC mentioned in the black book, then he was a superb actor. I could swear, from talking to him, that neither he nor Ryan could possibly be involved in anything violent or dangerous.
I was about to head home when, on a whim, I turned left instead of right and made for the house on West Eighth Street where Emma was staying. I had noted the address when Ryan wrote it down the night before. I knew I was taking a risk going to see her, but I decided I would be safe if I seemed to be naive enough.
An elderly foreign-looking woman with a plain round face and vacant blue eyes opened the front door. “Ya?” she said.
“I understand that Emma Goldman might be staying here?” I said cautiously.
She ushered me inside without saying a word, leaving me unsure whether she was a landlady or a friend, or whether she spoke any English. I was shown through to a sitting room where Emma was reading correspondence.
She looked up with interest. “The little Irish miss. I didn't expect to see you again. Don't tell me you have had a change of heart and wish to join our little group?”
“Not exactly,” I said. “I'm not sure how to put this, but I'm interested in Ryan's relationship with you and your group.”
“Ryan's relationship with me? By that, I presume you are implying intimate relationship.” A rather wicked smile spread across her face. “You are jealous! I never believed for a second that tale about being a cousin from Ireland. You want him for yourself.”
“I may be naive, but I'm not thick enough to believe that I could have Ryan for myself,” I said. “It was mere curiosity that brought me here. I was so surprised when he took me to meet you last night. I just couldn't believe that Ryan had ever been connected to a group like yours.”
“You're right,” she said. “He might have played at being a member of our little set for a while, but the novelty soon wore off—as it always does with Ryan.”
“But you still exert a very strong influence over him. I saw his reaction when he heard you were in town.”
“Yes,” she said calmly, “I have that effect over quite a number of people, so I am given to understand. You are obviously not affected by my magnetic personality.”
“But Ryan is such a strong personality himself,” I said. “It seems hard to believe…”
“Nonsense,” she said. “Ryan is a very weak personality. Why else would he constantly need to play a part and never let his true self show through? If he stops playing at being Ryan O'Hare, world-famous playwright and manabout-town, for one second, the whole world will collapse around him.”