_ CHAPTER XVII. THE ODD TRICK
Thelismer Thornton was one of the first to stir next morning in the big hotel. All night roisterers had flanked his room, there had been the buzz of eager argument overhead, riot of dispute below, and continual thudding of hurrying feet in the corridors. He had gone to sleep realizing that the hive was in a state of upheaval extraordinary, but he slept calmly in spite of it, and woke refreshed.
He picked his way past cots in the corridors. Men were snoring there.
His grandson had not returned to their apartments. But the Duke divined his whereabouts. He had ascertained by the house telephone the number of Linton's room. He tried the door when he arrived there. It was not locked. He entered. Linton was asleep on the bed. Harlan was on a cot. They had taken off only their coats and waistcoats. They did not wake when he came in. He pulled a chair to the centre of the room and sat astride it, his arms on its back. In a few moments both sleepers woke, stirring under his intent regard. They sat up and returned his gaze.
"Well, my boys, what's the programme?" he inquired, pleasantly.
Heavy with sleep, perturbed, a bit apprehensive, neither answered.
"You didn't come back to your room last night, Harlan. You weren't afraid of this old chap, were you? Didn't think I'd be running around the room on all fours, eh, or climb the wall, or growl and try to bite you?"
"I didn't want to disturb you, and Mr. Linton and I wanted to talk after we left General Waymouth," said Harlan.
"It's all right if you weren't afraid of me, my boy. We can't afford to have politics put us in that state of mind. Now, own up! You thought I'd pitch in and pull you over to the machine--you were afraid of that, now, weren't you?"
"To be perfectly honest, I didn't want any argument with you, grandfather, but I wasn't afraid you'd convert me. You couldn't do that."
"Bub, 'politics before friendship' is all right for a code. I practice that myself, but it hurts me to have you put politics before relationship--the kind that's between us."
"Grandfather," replied the young man, firmly, "you remember that you told me you were going to put me into politics right. I consider that you've done so. I'm going to stay where you put me."
"Oh, you mean one thing and I mean another, my boy, as matters stand just now. You're in wrong. A man isn't in right when he's playing on the losing end."
"I stay where you put me," insisted Harlan, doggedly. "I'm with General Waymouth."
"General Waymouth was a winner till he committed hari-kari there last night. He had Luke's machine, and he had my scheme. He kicked over the machine, and the scheme won't work now; it could have been
snapped through, but it can't be
bulled through--not with the bunch forewarned and on the lookout. Your political chances with Vard Waymouth, Harlan, don't amount to that!" He clicked his finger smartly above his head. "You may as well go back up-country and boss the Quedaws."
"And yet you know that General Waymouth is right, Mr. Thornton," broke in Linton, pausing in lacing his shoes. "There's no chance for argument about that. Why is it the big men of this State--men like you, that have the influence to set things straight--won't back the man that's honest and right?"
"Linton, that's the kind of a question that's asked by the man whose experience in practical politics is limited to a term on the School Board and the ownership of a subscription edition of
American Statesmen, bound in half morocco. I'll tell you why we don't: we're dealing with conditions, not theories. The chap who writes for the 'Kickers' Column' in the newspapers can tell you all about how politics should be run, but that's the only privilege he ever gets. It's the chap who keeps still and runs the politics that gets what's to be got out of it. And that's because mankind wants what it wants, and not what it says it wants."
He went to the window, snapped up the shade, and let the morning light flood the room.
"Wake up, my boys! Dreams are rosy--I've had 'em myself. But they don't buy the breakfast next morning. Martyrs get a devil of a reputation after they're dead. It doesn't do 'em a mite of good, not as human beings. As long as you're taking the curse that belongs with a human being, get some of the good, too. I tried to operate on a different plan long ago--about the time I had the dreams--but I had to give it up if I was to get anything out of life. Vard Waymouth can't build over the human nature in this State. I've had to drop him. I hadn't realized he was in such a bad way. Get aboard with the winners this trip! Then at least you can be in the swim--you can find some good to do on the side, and be able to do it. But you won't amount to anything sitting on the bank and bellowing."
The vigils of the night had fortified their faith, the loyalty of youth was in them, and they were the disciples of one who had enlisted their enthusiasm. Linton, however, was less assertive than Harlan. The Duke did not lose his patience.
"Boys," he said, at the end of his exhortations, "I see that you've got to have your little lesson (I'll have to be going now, for I've a few things to attend to), and I'll tell you frankly I propose to make that lesson a lasting one."
A few hours later the young men went in to breakfast together. The early trains had brought other delegates and visitors. The great room was crowded with a chattering throng. The head waiter intercepted them; he seemed to be waiting for them. They followed obediently, and he led them to an alcove.
Here a breakfast-party was already installed.
Miss Presson was first to greet them, giving a hand to each--radiant, fresh, and altogether charming in her tailored perfection.
"We left word at the door," she smiled, "for I wanted to behold you before the blood and dust of the arena settled over all."
Mrs. Presson and her ladies were cordial. They did not seem to remark that the State chairman kept his seat and was brusque in his greeting. Political abstraction excused general disregard to conventions among the men-folks that morning. The Duke was there. He patronized them with a particularly amiable smile.
"May I?" asked Linton, touching the chair next Madeleine.
"Yes," said the girl. "You know, Herbert and I are very old friends, Mr. Thornton." There was a hint of apology to Harlan behind the brilliant smile she gave him. He had moved toward the chair. He flushed when he realized that he felt a queer sense of hurt at her choice. It was another new experience for him who had made the woods his mistress--a woman had chosen another, slighting him. As he took his seat beside his grandfather he was angry at himself--at the sudden boyish pique he felt. He had not been conscious till then that he had been interested especially in Madeleine Presson. It needed the presence of this other young man, selected over his head, to make him understand that one may not draw near beauty with impunity, even though one may be very certain--telling his own heart--that love is undreamed of. He wondered whether he might not be afflicted with asinine pride.
He did not relish the glance that Linton bestowed on him; it seemed there was just a flash of triumph in it--that bit of a boast one sees in the eyes of a man who becomes, even briefly, the proprietor of a pretty woman.
"We were just talking over the latest news--or, rather, it's a rumor," said Miss Presson. With quick intuition she felt that something, somehow, was not just right. She hastened to break the silence. "They are saying that Mr. Spinney has withdrawn, and that his name will not go before the convention. Of course, you've heard about it, Herbert--and Mr. Thornton!"
They had not heard it. They looked guilty. They had been all the morning with Colonel Wadsworth, locked away from the throng, finishing matters of the night before. The expression on their faces was confession of their ignorance.
"If you're going to be early political fishermen you'll have to look for your worms sharp in the morning or you'll fetch up short of bait," suggested the Duke, maliciously.
"Three cheers and a snatch of band-music take on a hopeful color when they're lit up by red fire overnight," remarked the State chairman. "So do some other things. But a fellow with good eyesight usually comes to himself in the daylight."
"Is that true about Spinney?" asked Harlan, scenting mischief and treachery, and not yet enough of a politician to understand instantly just what effect this would have on the situation.
"I don't know anything about it," snapped Presson. "I don't care anything about it. It isn't important enough. The man's strength was overrated. It was mostly mouth. Just as soon as the delegates got together last night and shook themselves down it was plain enough where Spinney stood."
"But you yourself and grandfather have been saying all along that he--" began Harlan.
"We say a lot of things in politics," broke in the chairman, testily. "But it's only the final round-up that counts. And be prepared for sudden changes, as the almanac says! I tell you, I don't know anything about this Spinney rumor--nor I don't care. But it's probably true. Everett has got pledged delegates enough to nominate him by acclamation."
"But last night--" persisted Harlan.
His grandfather interrupted this time.
"Don't you remember that old Brad Dunham wrote to New York one spring and asked a commission man if he would take a million frogs' legs? Commission man wrote that he'd take a hundred pairs; and the best old Brad could do, after wading in the swamp back of his house all day, was to get a dozen. Wrote to the commission man that he'd been estimating his frogs by sound and thought he had a million. That's been the way with Spinney and his delegates, Harlan."
Mrs. Presson took advantage of the merriment to change the subject from politics. It was a topic that did not interest her, and she had learned from her husband's disgusted growlings that morning that there had been trouble the night before.
Harlan did not join in the chatter that went about the table. Under cover of it his grandfather gave him a few words of compassionate counsel.
"You'll have to swing in with the new deal, bub. You can't cut party sirloin too close to the horn, and that's what Vard did. He wants to sit on the mountain and slam us flat under a rock with the new ten commandments on it. We can't stand for it. I didn't dream that he had grown to be so impractical in his old age. No one wants any such deal as he's framing up for the State. As I told you, he's trying to build human nature over, and he can't do it. I'm sorry it's turned as it has--he could have been just a little diplomatic and made us a good Governor. But Everett will make a good one--you needn't be afraid of him. We'll put through a few measures that will smooth things down a little. Now you've got to remember that you're going to the legislature. You might just as well not be there if you don't stand clever with the administration. I haven't put you in just as I intended. But get into line now, quick. I can smooth it all right for you. I've squared myself with Everett--he needed me!"
Harlan listened patiently, keeping his eyes on his food.
"Right after breakfast Luke is going to have a talk with you and Linton."
"It will do Mr. Presson no good to talk to me. I'm with General Waymouth."
"But General Waymouth has been eliminated, you young idiot. It was the combination of circumstances that made him a candidate. But those circumstances have been changed. I can't explain to you how, Harlan--not here and now. But a brand-new trump has been turned. It had to be done. You stay behind here with Linton and talk with Luke."
The ladies were rising from the table.
Harlan did not reply. He did not remain. He stepped aside and allowed the ladies to pass, and followed them from the alcove. Presson stared after him angrily. Linton, obeying his request, sat down after Mrs. Presson and her party had retired.
"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!" _