“You’re not one of us,” she said. “So what are you doing here? Spying for the bosses, perchance?”
“Of course not,” I said angrily. “What on earth makes you say something like that? I’m from Lowenstein’s, with Rose. Ask her.”
Then suddenly I remembered where I had seen her before. She had worn her hair differently, and the light had been dim, but I had once sat across a table from her in a Greenwich Village café, at a meeting of anarchists that had almost cost me my life.
“And I could ask you the same question,” I said to her. “The last time I saw you, you were plotting to bring down the government at an anarchists’ meeting with Miss Emma Goldman.”
“Not I. I am a socialist, not an anarchist, Miss Murphy. I was there to support Emma Goldman because she represents change—empowerment of the masses, birth control. Anything that can improve the condition of women—that is my personal quest.”
“Then you and I have no quarrel,” I said. “You know my name, but I don’t know yours.”
“It’s Nell,” she said. “Nell Blankenship.”
I held out my hand. “We are on the same side, Miss Blankenship, both working to right injustices.”
She took my hand reluctantly, but still looked at me quizzically. “And is your name really Molly Murphy, fresh off the boat from Ireland?”
I decided to take a gamble.
“If I could have a private word, then some things would become clear.”
“Very well.” She moved away from the crowd around the food table to the far corner of the room.
“You are right that I am not really a garment worker,” I said in a low voice, even though the other occupants of the room paid no attention to us. “I am actually a private investigator.”
“An investigator—is that not the same as a spy?” she asked, still frowning at me. “Were you not spying at Emma’s meeting? You clearly were not in sympathy with our cause.”
“I came to your meeting with Ryan O’Hare,” I said. “He insisted that I meet Emma Goldman.”
“And that was your only reason for being there?”
“No, not my only reason,” I said. “When you met me before I was on the trail of the man who killed my employer. I caught up with him, only too late.”
She looked at me quizzically again. “A lady detective,” she said. “I didn’t realize that such things existed. The only question is for whom are you working this time? The sweatshop owners, so that all this will be reported back to them?”
“Of course not,” I said angrily.
“Then why throw yourself into a cause that is clearly not your own?”
“I could ask you the same thing,” I said, staring her down. “You are not a garment worker either. Why waste your time on the lower classes when you could be dining at Delmonico’s?”
“Precisely because I have the luxury of time,” she said. “These girls are ill equipped to speak for themselves. If I can make their lot better, I shall have accomplished something worthwhile. This and getting the vote for my sisters—these have become my life’s work.”
“Then I commend you, Miss Blankenship,” I said.
“And I hope I can equally commend you, Miss Murphy.” She still didn’t smile.
At that moment a shadow fell between us. Jacob Singer, the young man in the wire-rimmed spectacles, approached with a plate of cookies. “Are you bullying our newest recruit, Nell?” he said, giving me a friendly smile. “I am Jacob Singer and we have not been introduced yet.”
“How do you do, I’m Molly Murphy,” I said.
“I am pleased to make your acquaintance, Miss Murphy.” He clicked his heels and gave a little bow in a charmingly foreign fashion. “I hope Nell was not putting you through a grilling? She can become a little too passionate about her causes, I’m afraid.” He chuckled. Nell didn’t return his smile.
“Just sounding her out, Jacob,” Nell said. “Just trying to find out whose side she is on, because she is not a garment worker fresh from Ireland. She is a lady detective—so beware what you say.”
“A detective?” he looked at me with concern. “Not a garment worker then?”
I looked around to see who was within hearing distance. “I took on a job that necessitated my posing as a sweatshop girl. While working under such conditions, I decided I could not sit idly by. That’s one of the reasons I’m here tonight. I want to help.”
“Excellent,” Jacob said. “Just the sort of recruit we need, wouldn’t you say, Nell?”
Nell looked at him, then at me. “Perhaps I owe you an apology, Miss Murphy.”