"You've got a fool, there, for a grandson, Thelismer," stated the chairman with decision.
"He doesn't seem to be a politician," returned the old man, gazing after him. "There are a few joints in a man that he ought to be able to bend in politics, but Harlan seems to be afflicted with a sort of righteous ossification. He'll have to have his lesson, that's all!"
The young man was not in the mood to accept Miss Presson's invitation to accompany them to the hotel parlor. In the corridor he refused so brusquely that she stood and gazed at him, allowing the others to go on without her.
"You seem to be taking politics very seriously, Mr. Harlan Thornton."
"I'm taking honesty and my pledges seriously, that's all."
"Then your honesty puts you in opposition to my father, does it, sir?" It was said with a spark of resentment. "Do you realize how that sounds?"
"I do not say so, Miss Presson."
"But I have heard queer rumors this morning. Take a woman's advice once, Mr. Thornton: it may be worth something, because I have seen more of this game than you have. Don't kill your career at the outset by trying to realize an impossible ideal. It's bad enough in love, but it's much worse in politics!" She hurried away, joining the others.
Harlan paced the corridor impatiently, waiting for Linton to come out. Few men of the hundreds thronging past recognized him, and he was not accosted.
He caught fragments of talk. It was evident that the rumor concerning Spinney had found as many disbelievers as believers. Some charged that the story was started simply for the purpose of hurting the reform candidate by decrying his strength and inducing the wavering opportunists to come over to the winning side. Others said a trade had been effected, and that the story of it had leaked out prematurely. At any rate, the buzz of gossip showed that the situation was badly mixed.
Linton came alone. He had left the Duke and the chairman in conference. He took Harlan by the arm, and walked to the end of the corridor. They were alone there.
"Of course you know how I came to be in on the Waymouth side," he began, promptly. "Once I was in I didn't propose to quit so long as there was any hope. I did what mighty few young men in politics would do, Mr. Thornton—I stood out last night against Presson and your grandfather when they dropped the General. I just say that to show you I'm not a cur. But it's hopeless. The thing has turned completely over."
"You're going to desert the General?"
"It isn't desertion. That isn't a word that belongs in this situation.
General Waymouth will not call it that after I've talked with him."
Harlan did not speak. At the breakfast-table he had been ashamed of that little gnawing feeling of rancor when he looked across at the young couple who seemed so wholly contented with their conversation. Now he indulged himself. He began to hate this young man cordially. He excused the feeling, on the ground that it was proper resentment on behalf of the General.
"I don't want you to think that I'm disloyal or a deserter in this matter, Mr. Thornton. But I'm going to the next legislature, and I'm interested in certain measures that will help this State if they're adopted. I can't help General Waymouth now; you can't help him. He has no one behind him, as the thing has turned."
"He's got the square deal behind him!"
"Meaning nothing in a political mix-up such as this is. I can't afford to dump all my future overboard and kill myself for the next legislature by an absolutely useless and quixotic splurge in to-day's convention. The General has made no canvass—he isn't even very much interested personally in the affair. I hope I stand straight with you now. I'm going up and tell the General exactly how I feel about the thing. I advise you to do the same. You'll be very foolish to butt your head against every political influence in this State that counts for anything. I told your grandfather—"
"I don't want your advice in politics," blazed Harlan, letting his grudge have rein, "and I don't thank you to tell me how to get along with my own grandfather!"
He hoped that young Mr. Linton would resent that manner of speech.
Young Mr. Linton, as stalwart as he, raised his black eyebrows, pursed his lips, and was not daunted by the outburst.
"I beg your pardon, Mr. Thornton," he said, "but I fear you did not have enough sleep last night."
He started for General Waymouth's room, and Harlan followed him. There seemed to be no other haven for the latter just then. He was hung between the political sky and earth. He had no hope left that the General could prevail over the conditions that had so suddenly presented themselves. But his loyalty was not shaken. Now it had become unreasoning loyalty, dogged determination to stick to his choice; and as he looked at Linton's back preceding him along the corridor, he was more firmly determined than ever. Suddenly he was glad of the fact that this young man was on the other side, and he did not stop to analyze why he was glad it was so.
General Waymouth's parlor was crowded with men. The size of that levee astonished the two new arrivals. The General was not in sight. He was closeted with some one in the bedroom. Harlan and Linton noted that the men in the parlor did not wear the demeanor of ordinary visitors calling to pay their respects to a "has been." Some of them were talking eagerly in bunches, some were waiting—all were serious and anxious.
General Waymouth, coming to his bedroom door to usher out three men and admit others, saw his young lieutenants. He called them to him. He was straighter. He was stern. Fires within had given his eyes the flash of youth. All his usual gentle pensiveness was gone.
"My boys," he said, earnestly, "a week ago I didn't think I wanted to be Governor of this State again. But I want that office now with the whole strength of my soul. The devil is running our State to-day through his agents. I've got a duty to perform. I haven't time now to tell you what I've discovered since you left my room. I want you to—"
"I ask your pardon for interrupting, General," said Linton, manfully, "but I want to be as square with you as I can. Interests that belong to others will suffer if I continue with you—things being as they are. I make haste to speak before you tell me any more. I ask to be released."
"As a soldier I might question a resignation on the eve of battle, but as a politician I want no half-heartedness in my ranks. Good-day, Mr. Linton." He stood very erect, and his air admitted no further explanation. Linton bowed, and went out of the room.
"There is no half-heartedness here!" cried Harlan, passionately. "Is there anything I can do, General Waymouth?"
"Go and bring Arba Spinney to this room at once. Understand the situation before you go: I have already sent men for him. He has refused to come. Tell him this is his last opportunity to save himself from such deep disgrace that it will drive him from his State. I wish I could tell you to take him by the collar and lug him here. I venture to say you have the muscle, young man. But minutes are valuable—bring him."
Harlan hurried away.
Mr. Spinney was not in evidence in the parlor of his suite, but Harlan heard his tremendous voice in the bedroom—that voice could not be softened even in an exigency.
Several men whom Harlan recognized as members of the State Committee were seated near the door; and when he approached to knock, one of them informed him that Mr. Spinney was too busy to be seen.
"But my business is important."
"What sort of business is it?"
"Is Mr. Spinney afraid of visitors?" demanded the young man. His mien impressed the men. They knew that he was Thelismer Thornton's grandson. They conversed among themselves in whispers. Without waiting, and before they could stay him, he flung open the door.
Spinney stopped in his discourse with several men, and faced about apprehensively. He, too, recognized the young man, and was unable to decide whether to class him with friends or foes.
"Mr. Spinney, I have been sent to bring you with me instantly. Will you come?"
"Where?"
"It's a matter for your ear, sir. But you must come."
The men with Spinney promptly counselled him to remain where he was, but the candidate was impressed by the young man's determined appearance. Harlan strode to him, and took him by the arm. He had been used to the command of men since boyhood. "I have some very positive instructions. It will be a serious matter for you, Mr. Spinney, if you don't come—and you can't afford to take the advice of these men here."
He propelled his man toward the door, and Mr. Spinney went. It is likely that he concluded that no very serious damage could come to him in the presence of Thelismer Thornton's grandson. But when they arrived near the door of General Waymouth's parlor, Spinney recognized what it meant and resisted.
"It's a trap!" he gasped. "I thought your grandfather—"
The State Committeemen were following along the corridor, growling threats. Now they understood that this was practically an abduction. They hastened up to the scene of the struggle. But the young man was not deterred. He was obeying orders without question. With him it was not a matter of politics; he did not pause to wonder how the affair would be looked upon. The man to whom all his loyalty had gone out had commanded; he was obeying. But the others were resolute too. They were about to interfere. At that moment Thelismer Thornton appeared in the corridor.
"Let the boy alone," he commanded, thrusting himself among them.
The diversion gave Harlan his opportunity. Clutching Spinney with one hand, he threw open the door and pushed him in, followed him, and closed the door. He locked it, and stood with his back against it.
In that moment he did not reflect that in obeying General Waymouth so implicitly he might be playing traitor to his own flesh and blood. But the Duke, in his cynicism, had never attracted his grandson's political loyalty. That had seemed a matter apart from the family ties between them. His grandfather had set him on the trail of decency in politics, and had given him a leader to follow.
The frankness with which his grandfather had exposed the code by which he and his ilk operated in politics, making tricks, subterfuge, and downright dishonesty an integral part of the game and entitled to absolution, had divorced Harlan's straightforward sympathies when the question came to issue between his own relative, complacently unscrupulous, and General Waymouth, heroically casting off bonds of friendship and political affiliations, and standing for what was obviously the right. It was chivalrous. It appealed to the youth in Harlan. His manhandling of the amazed Spinney was an unheard-of event among gentlemen at a political convention, but there was more than impulse behind it. Harlan Thornton was a woodsman. Social conventions make the muscles subservient, but in the more primitive conditions the muscles leap ahead of the mind.
Therefore, he came with Mr. Spinney and tossed him into the presence of the chief, who had sent for him.
Then he set his broad shoulders against the door, for fists had begun to hammer at it.
It was evident at once that Spinney recognized the nature of the conference that had assembled in General Waymouth's room, and knew what the personnel of the group signified.
He looked around him and started toward the door.
"I've got witnesses to that assault, and you're going to suffer for it," he blustered. Harlan did not give way.
"You can't leave here yet, Mr. Spinney—not until General Waymouth finishes his business with you."
The General had viewed Mr. Spinney's headlong arrival with astonishment. He stepped forward to the centre of the room. There was a note in his voice that quelled the man as much as had Harlan's resolute demeanor at the door.
"Spinney, it will be better for you if you listen."
The candidate turned to face him, apprehensive and defiant at the same time. The panels of the door against which Harlan leaned were jarred by beating fists. Harlan heard the voice of his grandfather outside, calling to him impatiently. A moment more, and Chairman Presson added a more wrathful admonition to open.
"Mr. Thornton, will you kindly inform those people at the door that this is my room, and that I command them to withdraw?" directed General Waymouth.
Harlan flung the door open and filled the space with the bulk of his body. Both parties stood revealed to each other, the young man dividing them, and disdaining intrenchments.
"What kind of a crazy-headed, lumber-jack performance are you perpetrating here?" demanded the elder Thornton. "You're not handling Canucks to-day, you young hyena!"
"This is a scandal—a disgrace to this convention!" thundered Presson.
He started to come in, but Harlan barred the doorway with body and arms.
"Do you want any of these gentlemen inside, General?" he asked.
"Neither Mr. Presson, nor Mr. Thornton, nor any of the rest," declared
Waymouth. "And I want that disturbance at my door stopped."
"You hear that!" cried the defender of the pass. "Now, Mr. Presson, if you intend to disgrace this convention by a riot, it's up to you to start it." And then the choler and the hot blood of his youth spoke. He did not pick his words. His opinion of them was seething within him. He talked as he would talk to a lumber-crew. "I'm keeping this door, and I'm man enough for all the pot-bellied politicians you can crowd into this corridor. And if there's any more hammering here, I'll step out and show you."
He slammed the door, locked it, and set his shoulders against the panels.
"Luke, keep away," counselled Thelismer. "The boy is just plain lumber-jack at the present moment, and he's a hard man in a scrap. We can't afford to have a scene."
"They're going to turn wrongside-out that wad of cotton batting with two ounces of brains wrapped in it!" raved the State chairman. But the Duke pulled the politician away, whispering in his ear.
Spinney faced the General, blinking, doubtful, sullen.
The old soldier knew how to attack. He flung his accusation with fierce directness. "Spinney, you have sold out. You're a traitor. And you're a thief as well, for you've sold what didn't belong to you. You solicited honest men, in the name of reform, to put their cause into your hands. It was a trust. You've sold it."
"I'll prosecute you for slander!" roared the candidate. He hoped his defiance would be heard by those outside.
"You may do so, but I'll give you here and now the facts that you'll go up against. That's how sure I am of my ground!"
He shook papers at the man.
"Last night, or rather this morning at one o'clock, to be exact, you met Luke Presson and members of the State Committee, and for two thousand dollars, paid to you in one-hundred-dollar bills, you agreed to pull out. The secret was to be kept until it should be time for the nominating speeches to be made on the floor of the convention to-day. I have here affidavits signed by responsible parties who heard the entire transaction." It was accusation formal, couched in cold phrases, without passion.
Spinney started. The perspiration began to stream down his face. But in spite of the staggering blow the fight was not out of him. He thought quickly, reassuring himself by the recollection that his bedroom door had been locked, and men were on guard in his parlor. There could have been no eavesdroppers. This must be a bluff.
"That's a damnation lie!" he shouted.
"Don't you bellow at me, sir! I'm not trying to extort any confession. But you're wasting time, denying. I'm sure of my ground, I repeat. That's why I'm talking now. I'm an old man, and I was in politics in this State before you were born. And there were tricks and tricksters in the old days. And I knew them. I played one of those tricks on you, sir, last night. It's the last one I hope I shall ever play, for tricks are to be taken out of the politics of this State. The god of good chance lodged you in 'Traitor's Room,' last night, Mr. Spinney."
The man stared at him, frightened, not understanding.
"There's a false door and a slide in the wall of that bedroom, Spinney, and the old politician who put it there years ago passed the knowledge on to me. I'm willing every one should know it now. When you go back I will have it shown to you. It will convince you that these affidavits I hold in my hand are not guess-work. These men in this room now—for your own men brought me word that you were hiding from them—made those affidavits. Look at them, and deny—deny once more, Spinney!"
But the candidate had no voice now. He glanced furtively from face to face.
"Spinney," one declared, bitterly, "we've got you dead to rights. There ain't any use in squirming. We suspected you when you hid away from us, and General Waymouth put us in the way of finding out just who was with you. You might as well give in."
The General did not wait for Spinney to speak. He was in no mood then for listening. He was in command. He was issuing orders. The battle was on, and he was in the saddle.
"I propose to have your name go before the convention, Spinney. You must walk out of this room and deny the rumors that are afloat. I propose to have two of these men go with you and stay with you. And if you deny half-heartedly, or if you attempt any more sneak tricks, or if your name is not put into nomination to-day, I'll stand out and declare what is in these affidavits. If you want to save yourself and the men who bribed you, obey my orders."
"I don't understand why you want me to go ahead now," Spinney ventured to protest.
"And I don't propose to take you into my confidence enough, sir, to inform you. I simply instruct you to do as I say, and if you obey, I and these men here will do all we can to cover up this nasty mess in our party. It's in your hands whether you go to jail or not."
The General signalled to Harlan, and the young man opened the door.
Spinney went out with his watchful guardians.
"Now you ought to be able to hold your men together until we need them, gentlemen," said the General, addressing those who remained. "But you'd better get out among them and see that they stay in line. Defend Spinney! God knows, the words will stick in your throats, but show a bold front to the other side. Gather in your stragglers."
They filed out, plain and stolid individuals from the rural sections.
Harlan was left alone with the General.
"There go the kind that the demagogues always catch, Mr. Thornton. The demagogues understand human nature. They prey on the radicals who will follow the man who promises—sets class against class and eternally promises! Promises the jealous ascetics to deprive other men of the indulgences they seem to enjoy—promises to correct things for the great majority which dimly understands that things are out of joint in their little affairs, and as dimly hope that laws and rulers can correct those things and make the income cover the grocery bills. Spinney had them by the ears, that he did! But the knave was shrewd enough to understand that the machine would probably whip him in convention. They used my name to scare him into selling out—threatened to stampede the convention for me. That's why I'm so angry."
"Let me ask you something, General. It was Spinney, was it, Spinney and the kind I've seen training with him in this thing, that stirred up the opposition in this State—the kind of opposition we found at our Fort Canibas caucus?"
"From all reports, yes. I know some of the agents that have been working in the State. The men behind have hidden themselves pretty well, and I'm not exactly certain where their money is coming from. But I suppose the liquor interests are putting in considerable, as usual."
"The liquor interests! Backing reformers?"
The General smiled.
"Remember that I've had better chances to see the inside than you, young man. I've watched it operate from the start. In case of doubt you'll find the liquor interests on both sides. It's an evil that prohibition opens the door to. The saloons are to be tolerated and protected, or they are to be persecuted—the programme depends on the men who get control. If they are to be tolerated, the wholesale liquor men have to stand in right, so that they may have the privilege of doing business with the retailers. If the saloons are to be closed, the liquor men want to stand in right, so that they can do business direct with the consumer; and then there are the increased sales through the legalized city and town agencies when the saloons are closed—the liquor men need that business. The liquor is bound to come in anyway, whichever faction is in control. So the big rumsellers cater to both sides."
"Isn't there any decency anywhere, in any man, General Waymouth, when he gets mixed into such things?"
"Don't lose your faith that way, my boy! You see, I'm even playing a few political tricks myself. Your grandfather is more than half right—we have to play the game! But I'm trying a last experiment with human nature before I die. I haven't the things to lose that a young man has. I am forcing myself on my party—using some means that disgust me, but I have to do so in order to prevail. I want to be Governor of this State again, and I want to be Governor with more powers than I had before. You and I both know what the party managers want, I'd like to find out if the people are willing to be governed that way, after they've learned there's a better system. I want to find out if every man in this State is willing to pay his own just share of taxes, if the people will wake up and stand behind a man who shows them how to keep from private greed what belongs to the people. And most of all, young man, this State is in a condition of civil war over this infernal liquor question. The radicals are away off at one side, and the liberals as far away from them as they can get, and both sides plastering each other with mud. There's no common ground for a decent and honest man to stand on between; that is, he's too much disgusted with both sides to join either. I want to see whether there's good sense enough in this State to take the thing out of the hands of the fanatics so that we can get results that decent men can subscribe to—results instead of the ruin and rottenness we're in now."
He stopped suddenly with a word of apology.
"You mustn't think I'm inflicting a rehearsal of my inauguration speech on you, Mr. Thornton. I talked more than I intended. But my feelings have been deeply stirred this morning."
"It's wicked business, General Waymouth! I don't understand how you've kept so calm through it. But, thank God, you can show 'em all up now, as they deserve to be shown to the people of this State. I can hardly wait for that convention to open!"
The General put his papers into his breast-pocket and buttoned his close frock-coat. He gazed on the young man's excitement indulgently.
"My boy, you have yet to learn, I see, that what would make a good scene in a theatre would be a mighty bad move in politics. This, to-day, is a convention that a good many thousands of voters are waiting to hear from. If they should hear the whole truth, I'm thinking that the Democratic party would win at the polls. So, you see, I must continue to be a politician. We'll be going along to the hall, now, you and I. It's near the hour. I want to be the next Governor of this State" (he smiled wistfully), "so you and I will go out and hunt for enough honest men to make me Governor."
The hotel was pretty well deserted as they walked down the stairs and through the lobby.
"Ours doesn't seem to be the largest parade of the day, Mr. Thornton," said the veteran mildly, when they were on the street, "but we'll see—we'll see!"
CHAPTER XVIII
THE SHEPHERD AND THE SHEEP
Like a beacon marking shoals, Thelismer Thornton stood at the head of the broad granite steps that led up to the convention hall. An unlighted cigar was set hard between his teeth. Men flocked past him with obsequious greetings, but he merely grunted replies. He was watching for some one. He swore under his breath when he saw his man. General Waymouth and Harlan came up the steps together. He swung between them, and went along into the hall.
From open doors and windows band-music blared, welded with the roar of two thousand voices, each man shouting his conversation to be heard above his neighbors. It still lacked ten minutes of the hour set for the opening of the convention.
Under the cover of the uproar, as they walked along, the Duke delivered some very vigorous opinions to his grandson, expressing himself as to the latter's state of intellect, judgment, and general fitness to be allowed loose among men.
Harlan did not retort. He took his cue from the General, who smiled and listened.
"I'll tell you what I ought to do with you, boy! I ought to skin you. I'd find a ready sale for the hide. They could use it to make bindings for New Testaments. Your're too d—n—d righteous, altogether! I've been easy and patient with you, but I don't propose to stand at one side now, and see you ruin yourself politically. Why are you letting the boy do it, Varden?" he demanded, turning on the General. "You're old enough to know better. He's no help to you now. I supposed I had a grandson until you got hold of him!"
"You've still got a grandson, but you haven't got a political tool to use in prying open a new governorship deal every fifteen minutes," declared the young man. "You took me to General Waymouth, you pledged me to him—I pledged myself to him. I don't propose to discuss this matter any further. I'm my own man when it comes to politics!"
"Thelismer, I wouldn't say any more just now," suggested the General. "You are angry, and I've told you many times in past years that your judgment is not good when you are angry. But this is no place for talking these matters!"
The curious had already begun to throng about them. General Waymouth was a marked figure in a gathering. It had not become a matter of general knowledge that he was attending the convention. He had not appeared frequently in public since his retirement, and men were glad to see him. The early buzz that greeted his first appearance in the hall grew louder and louder, and swelled into an uproar as delegates turned in larger numbers and recognized him.
The vast body of the auditorium was crowded with men. Posts supporting huge placards indicated the division of delegates into counties. The General's own county was nearest the door by which he had entered. At a call from some one these delegates climbed upon their settees. They gave three cheers for him. It was a spontaneous tribute to the one great man of the State—their county's favorite son.
The word passed rapidly. Other counties came to their feet. The band was playing, the early enthusiasm of the day was fresh, men had not had opportunity to exercise their voices till then, and as the General passed down the side aisle of the hall he was cheered by every delegation. Harlan followed him closely, and the Duke was at their heels. Every man in the hall saw the little group. It seemed eminently fit that Thelismer Thornton should escort General Waymouth. But the Duke did not realize that the General was shrewdly using that opportunity of displaying Thornton, the elder, in his retinue. The accident fitted with some plans of his own.
Spurred by the excitement of that tumultuous moment, Harlan could not restrain a bit of a boast.
"How do you like the sound of that, grandfather?" he flung over his shoulder.
"There's no politics in that, you young fool. A hoorah isn't a nomination."
But he could not hide from himself the plain fact that Varden Waymouth was a tremendously strong figure in State affairs.
There was sincerity behind that outburst. Eyes glistened. Faces glowed with admiration and respect. The Duke wondered bitterly how much of that extraordinary tribute was inspired by the publicity work for which the State Committee had spent its good money.
The General led the way in at the side door that admitted to the stage. He was on familiar ground. Behind the stage there were several anterooms. He appropriated an empty one, hanging his hat on a hook.
"Not an elaborate lay-out for a candidate, Thelismer," he remarked, pleasantly, "but headquarters to-day is where we hang up our hat."
"Vard, you don't mean to tell me—seriously, at this hour—that you mean to be a candidate?" Thornton had put aside his anger. That had been bitter and quick ire, because his grandson had seemed so blind to his own personal interests. There was solicitude now in the old man's air.
"I got you into this myself," he went on. "I coaxed you in, for the situation was right and ripe. You kicked it over yourself. I haven't any compunctions, Vard. I stayed with you just as long as I could stay. But I'll be dod-jimmed if I'll shove a Governor onto my party that's a hybrid of Socialist and angel. Now you can't swing this thing. Everett's got it buttoned. I tell you he has! You're too big a man, to-day, to get before that convention and be thrown down. I've got a better line on the situation than you have. Vard, let's not have this come up between us at our time of life. It's bad—it's bad!"
"It is bad," returned the General, quietly; "but not for me! And it's too late to stop. I'm going through with it, Thelismer."
There was dignity—a finality of decision—that checked further argument. Thornton shifted gaze from Waymouth to his grandson, started to say more, snapped his jaws shut, and walked away.
The door of the anteroom afforded a view across the stage. The hour had arrived. The secretary of the State Committee appeared from the wings and waited until the delegates were in their seats and quiet. He read the call, and then the temporary organization was promptly effected, the tagged delegates popping up here and there and making the motions that had been entrusted to them.
A clergyman invoked Divine blessing, praying fulsomely and long, beseeching that the delegates would be guided by the higher will in their deliberations.
"It's the only prayer I ever find amusing—God pardon me!" whispered the General at Harlan's side, watching the preliminaries. "To call a State convention, as the machine runs it, a deliberative body is a sad jest of some magnitude. The managers intend to hold the real convention the night before in the State Committee's headquarters at the hotel. But to-day I hope that prayer proves prophetic."
He studied the faces on the platform. The United States Senator, smug and now satisfied that he had chosen aright for his personal interests, sat in the chairman's central seat, and studied his people from under eyelids half lowered while the parson prayed.
After the prayer, the routine proceeded hurriedly. For five minutes the convention seemed to be in a state of riot. Men were bellowing and yelping, and standing on settees. The counties were holding simultaneous caucuses for the purpose of selecting, each its vice-president of convention, its State committeeman, and member of the Committee on Resolutions—the resolutions then reposing in the breast-pocket of the Hon. Luke Presson.
The secretaries were announced, the temporary organization was made permanent, and, advancing against a blast of band-music and a salvo of applause, the Senator-chairman began his address.
"Now," remarked General Waymouth, grimly, "I am ready to open headquarters in earnest. My boy, in that anteroom across the stage you'll find your grandfather and Mr. Presson, and certain members of the State Committee. David Everett will be there, too. Inform them I send my urgent request that they meet, at once, the Hon. Arba Spinney and a delegation in my room here. I think that combination will suggest to guilty consciences that they'd better hurry. If they show any signs of hesitating, you may intimate as much to them."
The plain and stolid men came in just then. They brought Mr. Spinney through the side door. The unhappy conspirator, jostled by his body-guard, was near collapse. He was now traitor to both sides. Circumstances hemmed him in. But more than he feared the recriminations of Luke Presson and his associates, he feared the papers in the breast-pocket of Varden Waymouth.
Harlan went on his errand, crossing the stage behind a backdrop. Senator Pownal had got well under way, and was setting forth the sturdy principles of the Republican party with all the power of his lungs.
Harlan did not knock at the anteroom door; he walked in, and for a moment he thought that the enraged chairman was about to leap at his throat.
"Spinney, eh?" he blazed at the young man's first word. "Explain to me, Mr. Thornton, what is meant by your assault on a decent and honest citizen? What do you mean by teaming him from the hotel to this convention hall with a body-guard to insult men who have business with him?"
The question was confession that the chairman had been unable to get at the political property he had paid dearly for. It indicated that he suspected but did not realize fully how deeply Spinney was in the toils.
"Explain!" shouted Presson, standing on tiptoe to thrust features convulsed with rage into the young man's face.
"General Waymouth is waiting to explain, sir. He's across the stage, there! And Mr. Spinney is with him. I'd advise you to hurry."
"I don't need any of your advice! If you've got him on exhibition at last where the public can be admitted, I can't get there any too quick."
He rushed out, charging like a bull, and the others followed.
The State committeeman who closed file with Harlan did not appreciate the gravity of the situation.
"You seem to be introducing new features into a State Convention to-day, cap'n," he observed, sarcastically. "The way you're handling Brother Spinney is like the song about
"'Old Jud Cole, who went by freight To Newry Corner in this State; Packed him in a crate to get him there, With a two-cent stamp to pay his fare.'"
He added, "Spinney is light enough to travel on that tariff, but you're going to find he's got friends that are heavier."
Young Thornton waited till all had entered the anteroom, and again took his post as guard on the inside of the door.
General Waymouth checked Presson at the first yelp of the outburst with which he had stormed into the room. Probably there was not another man in the State who could have prevailed by sheer force of dignity and carriage in that moment when the passions of his opponents were so white-hot. But he was, in intellect, birth, breeding, and position, above them all, and they knew it. There, boxed in that little room, they faced him, and anger, rancor, spite, itch for revenge gave way before his stern, cold, inexorable determination to prevail in the name of the right.
"Gentlemen, I haven't called you here for the purpose of arguing or wrangling. You'll waste time by trying to do either. You are here to listen to what must be done. You represent the warring factions. There are enough of us to straighten the matter out. There are not so many that the secret of this shameful mess cannot be kept, and our party saved at the polls."
He paused to draw the fateful documents from his pocket.
In the hush of the little room they heard Senator Pownal declaiming: "And it is upon these firm principles, bedrock of inalienable rights guaranteed to the people, upon the broad issues of reform, inculcation of temperance, and the virtues of civic life, that the Republican party is founded."
Harlan, at the door, younger than the rest, found a suggestion of humor in what the orator was saying compared with what the party managers had met to hear. But there were no smiles on the faces of the group. The demeanor of the stricken Spinney, anger fairly distilling in his sweat-drops, hinted the truth to Presson. Thelismer Thornton tried to get near Spinney, understanding it all even better than the State chairman, but the plain and stolid men flanked their captive with determination.
"I have here five affidavits from eye-witnesses, swearing that Arba Spinney was bribed to sell out his faction at the last moment to-day, leaving only David Everett in the field. I have no time to waste in giving the details of that transaction to men who know them just as well as I do. And I want no interruption, sir!" He brandished the papers under the nose of Presson, who attempted to speak. "I do not propose to have my intelligence insulted by denials from you or any one else. If you don't believe I have full proof of what I charge, you walk out of that door and put the matter to the test! And I hasten to assure you, sir, that you'll be eternally disgraced!"
He waited a moment, because a roar of applause that greeted one of
Senator Pownal's utterances resounded even in the remote anteroom.
"It all means, gentlemen, that I'm to be the nominee of this convention to-day. It's time for a clean-up, and I'm going to start one. The men who are running our party are not fit to be in charge of it. The voters deserve a better show. I've called you here to give you an opportunity to save yourselves, personally. I'm willing to submit to a little by-play for that purpose. You are to allow Spinney's name to go before the convention, according to the regular programme. That's to divert the attention of the convention and the State-at-large from what otherwise would seem a split in the recognized management of the party. Spinney has been only a rank outsider, politically considered. We have to consider the campaign, gentlemen, and the material we may furnish our friends, the enemy. Then, you gentlemen of the State Committee, each in his county delegation, are to start a demonstration in my behalf. This is no time for me to be mock-modest. On the heels of that demonstration Everett's name is to be withdrawn with the explanation that such an apparently spontaneous demand from the voters should be recognized. Mr. Everett is to declare that under the circumstances he does not wish to stand in the way of popular choice, and he is to announce that much and present me to the convention. I assure you, Mr. Everett, that I ask this last with no intent of wounding your feelings or indulging in cheap triumph—it is necessary in order that the mouths of political gossips may be shut."
A rather stupid silence followed that declaration of programme. The voice of the Senator rose and fell without.
The General met their staring eyes calmly. "It may be a rather surprising development of the convention," he said. "But as soon as the surprise is over it will commend itself as a perfectly natural and graceful concession to public opinion—as public opinion can be set in motion by the members of the State Committee on the floor of the convention. In fact, the plan commended itself to my friend Thelismer, here, and Chairman Presson some weeks ago."
The State chairman was stirred as though galvanically by that statement. The bitter memory of how he had groomed the dark horse that was now kicking his master's political brains out rose in him.
"By the everlasting gods," he shouted, "I'll go down fighting! If the house has got to come down, I'll go down with it."
"Samson had two arms. I have only one," returned General Waymouth. "But I've got that arm around the central pillar of your political roof, gentlemen—and I've got the strength to handle it! You've stated your position as a politician, Presson. Now I'll state mine. Rather than see the Republican temple made any longer a house of political ill-fame I'll pull it down on you prostitutes."
It was bitter taunt—an insult delivered with calm determination to sting. Presson stamped about the room in his wrath.
"I'm making no pact or promise," went on the General. "I declare that you are the men who are wrecking our party. Now if you propose to wreck it completely, we'll go smashing all together in the ruins. It may as well be wrecked now as later!"
There was another hush in the room.
"So I call upon you, men of office, shop, and farm, bone and sinew of our grand old party," exhorted Senator Pownal from the forum outside, "to forget the petty bickerings of faction and stand shoulder to shoulder in your march to the polls. Nail the principles of justice, truth, and honesty to the flagstaff, and follow behind that banner, winning the suffrages of those who believe in the right."
"It sounds as though the Senator might be arriving close to his amen," suggested General Waymouth, ironically. "You have only a few minutes in which to decide. I hold the proxy of one of these delegates to the convention." He pointed to one of the stolid and plain men. "You know that I can get the ear of that convention—you can't work any gag-rule on me—I have been listened to too often by the men of this State when I've had something to say. And you know what effect these affidavits will have!"
There was further silence, broken only by the voice of the Senator without and Presson within, who was scuffling about, babbling disjointed oaths.
Suddenly a great outburst of applause signified that the Senator had concluded.
"Go ahead out and kill your party!" barked Presson. "Give it your strychnine! It may as well die right now, in a spasm, as to have a lingering death later with you at the head of it, Waymouth. You can't team me!"
"You let me say a word right here!" blustered Everett. "I wash my hands of any deal with Spinney. I've got the bulk of that convention behind me. I don't propose to be shunted."
"I supposed you all remembered the details of what you did last evening," returned the General, coldly. "Is it necessary for me to remind you, Mr. Everett, that Chairman Presson turned over to Spinney a paper in which you agreed to appoint him to a State office? That transaction was noted along with the rest, sir."
"I'll have as many witnesses as you," declared Presson, "I'll—"
"Stop!" It was a tone that cowed the chairman, struggling with his guilty conscience. "I have warned you that I'm not here to argue this matter with you. I'll not be drawn into any discussion. What I have, I have!" He waved his papers above his head. "What I can do that I'll do! I would remind you, gentlemen, that the convention is waiting."
Thelismer Thornton caught the secretary of the State Committee by the arm and propelled him toward the door, ordering Harlan to open it. "Signal that band! Start it to going!" he directed. "Keep those delegates easy." He turned on the chairman. "Now, Luke, you're licked. And it's your own deadfall that's caught you. I know just how you feel, but here's a laundry-bag that you've got to draw the puckering-strings on. Shut up! I'm going to save you from yourself. You're running amuck, now. You're a lunatic, and not responsible." He dragged the defiant chairman back into the room. He held him in firm grip. "There's a new bribery law in this State. You haven't forgotten it, have you! It's State prison!"
"Look here, gentlemen," he went on, addressing the members of the State Committee, "you've got just five minutes leeway between a devilish good political walloping and striped suits. Get out on the floor. Get busy with those delegations. And the man of all of you who dares to say one word too much about what's been done here to-day will peek through bars and wish his tongue had been torn out by the roots before he talked! Presson, this thing is out of your hands. You shan't cut your own throat, I say! Get onto that floor, men!"
They went. It was the rush of men to save themselves. Each man as he passed out cast a glance upon the papers that General Waymouth clutched, and a second glance at Harlan, brawny guard, at his side.
"Take Everett across to the committee-room and call in the men who were to present him," directed the Duke, releasing the chairman. "And it's up to you two to give 'em a story that will hold 'em. It's short notice, but you've got General Waymouth for a text! Look here, Dave," he whirled on Everett, who was frantically protesting, "your strength was the strength the boys of the machine put behind you. It hasn't been personal strength. You can't afford to be a blasted fool now, even if you are crazy mad. You've been lecturing considerably the past few weeks on 'party exigencies.' This is one. It's an exigency that will put you before a grand jury if you don't tread careful. Get across there, you and Presson! I'm eating dirt myself. Get down on your hands and knees with me, and make believe you like it!"
He hustled them out.
The band was rioting through a jolly melange of popular melodies.
The old man hesitated a moment, and then walked across to the General.
"Vard, politics is most always a case of dog eat dog, but I want to assure you that I'm not hungry just now if you are not! And my grandson seems to have more political foresight than I gave him credit for. I'm getting old, I see!"
He did not give them opportunity to answer. He swung about and went to
Spinney.
"I reckon they'll raise your guard, now, Arba," he said, nodding at the stolid and plain men. "There isn't much more that you can do, either to harm or help. You'd better pull a chair out to the edge of the stage there, and listen to what a h—l of a fellow you are when your orators nominate you. Then before the applause dies away, you'd better start for home. It'll be a good time to get away while Presson is busy!" It was plain that, lacking any other object, the Duke was venting the last of his spleen on this wretched victim of the game. "Before you go, give me one of those 'Honest Arba' ribbons. I keep a scrap-book of jokes!"
The abject candidate had no word to offer in reply. He was white and trembling, for after Presson's early declaration it had seemed that the whole shameful story was to be thundered in the ears of those two thousand men sitting yonder.
"You can suit yourself as to your further movements, Spinney," said the
General, noting the man's distress.
"There's a rear exit from this hall," remarked the Duke, significantly.
Spinney went out, hanging his head.
"Well, there's at least one cur eliminated from the politics of this
State," blurted Harlan, gratefully.
"Eliminated!" sneered his grandfather. "The first man you'll meet in the legislative lobby next winter, sugar on his speech and alum on his finger, so that he can get a good firm grip of your buttonhole, will be Arba Spinney, drawing his salary as the paid agent of half-a-dozen schemers. He may seem a little wilted just now, but he's a hardy perennial—you needn't worry about him."
"I think you're the man to take these documents to the Committee on Resolutions, Thelismer," stated the General, drawing out the planks he had submitted the evening before. "You can explain why they should be inserted—and I have modified them somewhat. I have no desire to frighten the party at the outset."
The Duke took the papers, and departed without a word. The men of the affidavits returned to their delegations on the floor of the convention, gratification in their faces, as well as a sense of the importance of the secret they were guarding.
The band gave a final bellow, and the business of the convention proceeded.
General Waymouth and Harlan took chairs into their little room and sat down to wait. The sounds came to them mellowed by distance, but distinct. They followed the procession of events.
Spinney's name was presented by an up-country spellbinder who had copied logic, diction, and demagogic arguments from his chief. But all the thrill, swing, and excitement of the Spinney movement were gone. Red fire, hilarity, and stimulants could not be used to spice this daylight gathering of men ranged in orderly rows on their settees—and subtle suggestion had already gone abroad. Yet the undercurrent of opposition to the further dictation by the party ring was shown by the applause that greeted every reference by the speaker to the conditions that existed in the party. On the text of Spinney, personating Protest, the orator preached to willing converts who clamored for change, even though no better leader than Spinney offered. Spinney got perfunctory applause; suggested change was cheered tumultuously.
The convention was ripe for revolution against dominant conditions, without exactly understanding how to rebel wisely and well.
Suddenly a clarion voice raised itself from the convention floor. They in the little room could hear every word.
"That's Linton," said the General, calmly. "He balked under my pat, but he's plunging into the traces handsomely under the whip!"
"Linton! After refusing? Is he presenting your name?"
"Oh, he's a politician, and one must allow a politician to weigh out his stock of goods on his own scales, and hope that he will give good measure. I'll be grateful in this instance, Mr. Thornton. They've picked out an able young speaker!"
In spite of his resentful opinion of Linton, an opinion into which he would not admit to himself that jealousy entered, Harlan, as he listened, had to acknowledge the ability of the young lawyer.
First he caught the attention of his auditors, then he skilfully suggested that he was preparing a surprise. With appealing frankness that won the interest and sympathy of the Spinney adherents, he agreed with them that the times demanded changes and reforms. He urged that these should be undertaken within the party, and then, earnestly but delicately, he hinted that the reformers had not picked the right leader. As delicately he suggested, next, that an extreme partisan, bound far in advance of nomination by factional pledges and trades that he must carry out, was not the right man to extricate the party, either. Lastly, he came to the crux of his speech, plunging into the theme with passionate eloquence that brought moisture to the eyes of Harlan. That young man was not thinking of the orator, then. His thoughts were on the old man at whose side he sat—the old man who listened in dignified patience.
Now the delegates sniffed the truth. A word had put them on the trail. They were not sure. But they suspected. And mere suspicion sent them upon their settees, cheering wildly. Distrust of Spinney, sullen disloyalty to the machine-created Everett, furnished a soil in which hope for another solution of the tangle sprang with miraculous growth.
Linton waited until the roar of voices died away. They again listened breathlessly, wondering whether their own hopes had beguiled them.
"From the storied past, gentlemen of the convention, we draw precept and example, lesson and moral, hope and inspiration. As nature has stored in the bowels of the earth the oil that serves the lighthouse beacons of to-day, so life has stored in various reservoirs human experience that can light the path through troublous times in these latter days. Written on the scroll of history, limned on the page of law, we find the words of the fathers, sane and helpful thought and good counsel. In days of doubt and worry and despair we may meet the fathers on the written page. But, oh, how grand a blessing for the human race could we sit at their feet beholding them in the flesh and receive their teachings! If only they, the fathers, might take us by the hand and lead us through the devious tangles of public policy! To-day we meet here in perplexed division as to the standard-bearer for our next campaign. If up from that past of sage counsel and unfaltering faith there might come one who could stand forth and expound the lessons that we need, we might take heart and travel boldly on. But, gentlemen, I bring you a message of greater hope—more profound a blessing. Up from that past comes the standard-bearer himself! His wise kindliness meets every test of honest gentleman; scholarship crowns his brow, Law holds her torch aloft that his feet may tread the safe way; war from him has taken tribute, but to him has given a hero's deathless laurels. Once in her history this State welcomed him to her councils as her gracious overlord, and now—"
There was no doubt in their minds now. A window-shaking demonstration bore down his voice.
Linton seized upon the beginning of silence.
"Now once again his State, groping for a hand to lead her forth to stability and progress, sees his hand and seeks to grasp it, supplicating him: 'O father, guide me! O wise man, teach me! O hero, save me!' And I name to you, gentlemen, for the candidate of the Republican party—"
He leaped upon a settee and voiced the name of General Varden Waymouth with all the strength of his trumpet voice. But no one heard what he said. They all knew what he was to say. They did not need the spoken name.
That convention had been ripening for a stampede. Its component delegates had contained the stampede fever for weeks before they assembled. Men leaped and screamed. It was a storm of enthusiasm; two thousand feet furnished the thunder-roar; hats went up and came down like pelting rain; and voices bellowed like the bursting wind volleys of the gale.
Here and there, gesticulating men were trying to make seconding speeches, but the words were lost. The chairman of the convention, grim and pale and wondering just how much damage this overturn signified to his personal interests, nodded recognition to these speakers, and allowed them to waste their words upon the welter of mere sound.
He also recognized other men who arose. He knew them for Spinney's adherents and divined what they were trying to say. And having divined it, he was promptly inspired to get in with the rush of those who were climbing aboard the band-wagon.
He advanced to the edge of the platform, and by tossing his arms secured a moment of silence. He had his own salvation to look after.
"I am glad, inexpressibly pleased, that as chairman of your convention I can now declare myself for General Waymouth; for the convention has but one name before it—the name of Arba Spinney has been withdrawn!"
When the tumult began again—almost delirium this time—David Everett appeared from the wings, white, stricken, overwhelmed by the suddenness with which the prize had been snatched beyond his reach, driven out upon the stage by the State Committee like a whipped cur forced to perform his little trick in public. He began to speak, but the delegates did not listen—they knew what he was saying, and were cheering him. Not all of it was enthusiasm for General Waymouth; men instantly realized that a nasty split in the party had been bridged; men felt that in this new candidate both factions had the ownership that puts one "in right." A united party could now march to the polls.
The nomination was by acclamation!
They came to General Waymouth, where he stood patiently at the door of his room—the committee appointed to escort him before the convention. He signalled for them to precede him—his hand was inside the arm of Harlan Thornton, and he did not withdraw it even to shake the eager hands that were outstretched. He walked upon the stage with the young man, and, still holding his arm, faced the hurricane of enthusiasm until it had blown itself out.
It was a breathless hush in which he spoke.
"Our party, in State Convention assembled, has to-day declared for honesty." They did not exactly understand, but they gave voice like hounds unleashed. That sentiment complimented them. "I pledge the last strength of my old age to the task you have imposed upon me. Give me your pledge, man to man, in return. Shall it be for all of us: honesty in principle and unswerving obedience to every party profession we make? I await your 'Yes'!"
It came like a thunderclap—two thousand voices shouting it.
He stood there, his hand upraised, waiting again until the hush was upon them once more. They were ready for the usual speech of acceptance. But he said simply this:
"I accept the trust!"
He put his hand behind Harlan's guarding elbow and retired.
"A carriage at once, Mr. Thornton," he directed. "I must save myself for performance, not parade."
They were away before even the eager platform notables could intercept them. The cheering was still going on when the carriage started. From the open windows of the hall the riot of the convention—voices and music—pursued them until the racket of the busy street drowned it out.
"At the present moment, Mr. Thornton, it is not likely that the
Republican State Committee is in a mood for poetry," remarked General
Waymouth. Gayety that was a bit wistful had succeeded his sombre
earnestness.
"But something in the sentiment of this old song might appeal to them while they are thinking of me just now:
"'The mother may forget the child
That smiles so sweetly on her knee;
But I'll remember thee, Glencairn,
And all that thou hast done to me.'"
Harlan did not reply. At that moment, strangely enough, something besides the fury and the results of that tremendous convention occupied his thoughts. While he had stood beside General Waymouth he had not looked down into the pit of roaring humanity. He had looked straight up into the eyes of Madeleine Presson, whose gaze, by some chance, caught his the moment he stepped upon the platform. She had leaned on the gallery-rail and studied him intently. In spite of all else that had happened and was happening, he could not help wondering why.
CHAPTER XIX
THE RAMRODDERS RAMPANT
Though Mrs. Luke Presson was not especially interested in the practical side of plain politics, yet it was a part of her social methods to make tame cats of men of State influence as far as she was able. She did this instinctively, rather from the social viewpoint than the political. Luke Presson did not take her into his confidence to the extent that he desired her to cultivate men of power for his own purposes. He only dimly and rather contemptuously recognized that women had any influence in political matters. But it did occur to him, after that State convention, that perhaps he needed his wife to assist him in beginning a reconciliation with General Waymouth.
Mrs. Presson came to him, directly the convention had adjourned. The few men who were lingering in headquarters dodged out, for they perceived that the chairman's wife had something on her mind.
He endured her indignant reproaches for some time. She taxed him with betrayal of her personal interests.
"I've never tried to pry into your schemes. I don't care about them. But when you make a fool of me in regard to the next Governor of this State, you shall answer for it to me!"
"I did no such thing," he protested, wanting to placate her for private reasons of his own.
"I say you did. You're chairman of the State Committee. You knew which man would be nominated—you must have known it all along. You wouldn't be State chairman if you didn't know that!"
The unhappy magnate was ashamed to tell her the bitter truth.
"You allowed me to come here to-day with Mrs. Dave Everett and her daughters. Here is the bouquet I brought to present to her husband!" She shook it under his nose and tossed it into a corner. "You never told me a word about the plan to nominate General Waymouth. It was deliberate deceit on your part—for what reason I cannot understand."
Presson tried to think of a story that would explain and shield him, but the convention had not been an affair to promote clear thinking.
"Here's a legislative session at hand, and you've allowed me to stay entirely out of touch with the next first gentleman of the State! I'm like all the rest of the trailers, now. I haven't any prior social claim on him. And I can't even find him at this late hour to offer my congratulations."
"I haven't been able to offer mine, either," said the chairman, grimly.
"I'll endure no more of this foolery, Luke! If you propose to make a plaything of your own wife from now on—"
"I'm telling you the truth. General Waymouth hurried out of the hall before I could get to him. That devilish Canibas bull moose picked him up, like he's been picking up—"
But the astonishment in his wife's eyes stopped him. He was revealing too much of his secret.
"Why, Harlan Thornton went away with him—Thelismer's grandson! Some one told me who saw them in the carriage together. What do you mean by Canibas moose?"
"Can't you see that I'm all stirred up by the excitement of this convention?" he demanded. "I don't know what I'm saying. I'll explain to you later, Lucretia."
"I think you'd better. Where did General Waymouth go?"
"To the hotel, I suppose."
"No, he's not there. I have telephoned. Luke, we must have him at lunch with us. It's his place to lunch with us—you're the chairman of the State Committee! It's a late start for me—and it's your own fault because it is so. But you must find the General and make him come to luncheon. I have arranged for the party in the English Room at the hotel. You must have him there!" She hurried away to where the ladies were waiting for her.
Presson, the politician's instinct of self-preservation now getting the better of his rancor, promptly determined that his own interests would be helped by his wife's luncheon-party, provided the victor could be cajoled and coralled. He put pride behind him. It was not so easy to do as much with his shame and the downright fear that assailed him when he reflected on his plot and its outcome. But he decided that although little might be gained for him by making up to the victorious General, a great deal would be surely lost if the antagonism were emphasized.
He put on his hat and hurried to the street. Inquiry at the cab-stand afforded him the information that General Waymouth and his companion had not given a definite destination. "But there's the man who took them," said the manager. "He's just back. Ask him."
The driver said that he had dropped them at the park, at their request, and the chairman jumped into the carriage, directing that he be conveyed to the same place.
He found them sitting democratically on a bench, taking the air.
Without preliminary the chairman extended Mrs. Presson's invitation. "There will be a very small party of us, and it may save you from the annoyances of the public rooms," added Chairman Presson, humbly.
The General arose and accepted with cordiality, somewhat to Harlan's surprise, for his unbending youth could not yet understand how political hatchets could be buried so quickly.
"I want to congratulate you, General," said the chairman on the way to the carriage. "And I want to tell you that the State Committee will swing into line behind you for the campaign. You'll find us loyal. There's a good deal more I'd like to say, but there'll be time enough for that later. I'll merely say this: both of us have been in politics years enough, I believe, to be able to wash a convention slate clean, when it's a question of a State campaign against the opposite party."
"I'll meet you frankly on that plane, Mr. Presson. I have too much ahead of me to waste time in quarrels. It isn't my nature to retaliate. I have understood the situation better than some men would."
Harlan, hoping that the chairman appreciated that magnanimity, gave Presson a look that expressed much. But in his new humility the latter was getting rid of ancient grudges as fast as he could. While the General was entering the carriage, the chairman offered rather embarrassed apology. "But you introduced some original specialties in politics that took me off my feet, young man!" he added, with a sickly smile.
Harlan was still a little stiff. It was not easy for him to get into the state of political pliability that he saw others assume so readily.
"I'm a countryman, and pretty awkward in most everything I undertake,"
he said. "I have no business meddling in the big affairs of this State.
I'll take my place where I belong, after this, Mr. Presson. If I don't,
I'll not have a friend left—not even my own grandfather."
The chairman glanced at him curiously, scenting something like duplicity under this bitter frankness. He was not used to seeing men throw aside such advantages as this young man had gained.
The three entered the hotel through the side door, and at the General's request the chairman accompanied him and his young lieutenant to their headquarters. It was near the luncheon hour, and Presson had suggested that he conduct them to Mrs. Presson.
A party of men had taken possession of the General's suite. They rose when he entered. They paid no attention to Harlan, but surveyed Chairman Presson with disfavor that was very noticeable.
Several of the men were clergymen, advertised as such by their white ties and frock-coats. Those who attended them had the unmistakable air of zealots. Their demeanor showed that they had come on business that they considered serious.
General Waymouth knew them. He addressed one or two by name, and was gracious in his greeting of the others.
"We wait on you," began their spokesman, one of the ministers, "as a committee from the United Temperance Societies."
"My time is not my own just now, gentlemen," explained General Waymouth. "I have a luncheon engagement with Mr. and Mrs. Presson. I will see you at some other time."
The faces of all of them grew saturnine at that announcement. For Chairman Presson was not recognized as the especial friend of prohibition by the fanatics of the State.
The clergyman, following his line of duty, was not in a mood to accept delicate hints regarding social engagements. He stood his ground.
"Our business will occupy but a short time, and I suggest that it will be for your personal interest to listen now, sir."
It was an unfortunate bit of obstinacy.
"I regulate my own hours for engagements, Mr. Prouty. You have come on your own business, and it must await my convenience."
"It's your business I come on, General Waymouth, and I advise you to listen! And I will add that it will not help you with the temperance people of this State if they are told that within two hours after your nomination you are consorting with the arch-enemy of temperance reform in our midst!"