The Grafters

by Francis Lynde

  XXVIII

  THE NIGHT OF ALARMS

  If Editor Hildreth had said nothing in his evening edition about theimpending strike on the Trans-Western, it was not because public interestwas waning. For a fortnight the newspapers in the territory tributary tothe road had been full of strike talk, and Hildreth had said his say,deprecating the threatened appeal to force as fearlessly as he condemnedthe mismanagement which was provoking it.

  But it was Kent who was responsible for the dearth of news on the eve ofthe event. Early in the morning of the last day of the month he had soughtout the editor and begged him to close the columns of the _Evening Argus_to strike news, no matter what should come in during the course of theday.

  "I can't go into the reasons as deeply now as I hope to a little later,"he had said, his secretive habit holding good to the final fathom of theslipping hawser of events. "But you must bear with me once more, andwhatever you hear between now and the time you go to press, don't commenton it. I have one more chance to win out, and it hangs in a balance that afeather's weight might tip the wrong way. I'll be with you between ten andtwelve to-night, and you can safely save two columns of the morning paperfor the sensation I'm going to give you."

  It was in fulfilment of this promise that Kent bestirred himself after hehad sent a wire to Ormsby, and M'Tosh had settled down to the task ofsmoothing Callahan's way westward over a division already twitching in thepreliminary rigor of the strike convulsion.

  "I am going to set the fuse for the newspaper explosion," he said to hisally. "Barring accidents, there is no reason why we shouldn't begin tofigure definitely upon the result, is there?"

  M'Tosh was leaning over Despatcher Donohue's shoulder. He had slippedDonohue's fingers aside from the key to cut in with a peremptory "G.S."order suspending, in favor of the fast mail, the rule which requires astation operator to drop his board on a following section that is lessthan ten minutes behind its file-leader.

  "The fun is beginning," said the train-master. "Tischer has his tip fromDurgan to keep Callahan's tail-lights in sight. With the mail treading ontheir heels the gentlemen in the Naught-seven will be chary about pullingPatsy down too suddenly in mid career. They have just passed Morning Dew,and the operator reports Tischer for disregarding his slow signal."

  "Can't you fix that?" asked Kent.

  "Oh, yes; that is one of the things I can fix. But there are going to beplenty of others."

  "Still we must take something for granted, Mr. M'Tosh. What I have to doup-town won't wait until Callahan has finished his run. I thought the maindifficulty was safely overcome."

  "Umph!" said the train-master; "the troubles are barely getting themselvesborn. You must remember that we swapped horses at the last minute. We wereready for the race to the east. Everybody on the Prairie Division had beennotified that a special was to go through to-night without stop fromLesterville to A. & T. Junction."

  "Well?"

  "Now we have it all to straighten out by wire on another division; meetingpoints to make, slow trains to side-track, fool operators to hold down;all on the dizzy edge of a strike that is making every man on the linelose his balance. But you go ahead with your newspaper business. I'll dowhat a man can here. And if you come across that right-of-way agent, Iwish you'd make it a case of assault and battery and get him locked up.I'm leery about him."

  Kent went his way dubiously reflective. In the moment of triumph, whenDurgan had announced the success of the bold change in the programme, hehad made light of Hawk's escape. But now he saw possibilities. True, thejunto was leaderless for the moment, and Bucks had no very ablelieutenants. But Hawk would give the alarm; and there was the rank andfile of the machine to reckon with. And for weapons, the ring controlledthe police power of the State and of the city. Let the word be passed thatthe employees of the Trans-Western were kidnapping their receiver and thegovernor, and many things might happen before "Red" Callahan should finishhis long race to the westward.

  Thinking of these things, David Kent walked up-town when he might havetaken a car. When the toxin of panic is in the air there is no antidotelike vigorous action.

  Passing the Western Union central office, he stopped to send Ormsby asecond telegram, reporting progress and asking him to be present in personat the denouement to put the facts on the wire at the earliest possibleinstant of time. "Everything depends upon this," he added, when he hadmade the message otherwise emphatic. "If we miss the morning papers, weare done."

  While he was pocketing his change at the receiving clerk's pigeon-hole, acab rattled up with a horse at a gallop, and Stephen Hawk sprang out. Kentsaw him through the plate-glass front and turned quickly to the publicwriting-desk, hoping to be overlooked. He was. For once in a way theex-district attorney was too nearly rattled to be fully alert to hissurroundings. There were others at the standing desk; and Hawk wrote hismessage, after two or three false starts, almost at Kent's elbow.

  Kent heard the chink of coin and the low-spoken urgings for haste at thereceiving clerk's window; but he forbore to move until the cab had rattledaway. Then he gathered up the spoiled blanks left behind by Hawk andsmoothed them out. Two of them bore nothing but the date line, madeillegible, it would seem, by the writer's haste and nervousness. But atthe third attempt Hawk had got as far as the address: "To AllTrans-Western agents on Western Division."

  Kent stepped quickly to the receiver's window. The only expedient he couldthink of was open to reproach, but it was no time to be over-scrupulous.

  "Pardon me," he began, "but didn't the gentleman who was just here forgetto sign his message?"

  The little hook caught its minnow. The receiving clerk was folding Hawk'smessage to place it in the leather carrier of the pneumatic tube, but heopened and examined it.

  "No," he said; "it's signed all right: 'J.B. Halkett, G.S.'"

  "Ah!" said Kent. "That's a little odd. Mr. Halkett is out of town, andthis gentleman, Mr. Hawk, is not in his department. I believe I shouldinvestigate a little before sending that, if I were you."

  Having thus sown the small seed of suspicion, which, by the by, fell onbarren soil, Kent lost no time in calling up M'Tosh over the nearesttelephone.

  "Do our agents on the Western Division handle Western Union business?" heasked.

  The reply came promptly.

  "Yes; locally. The W-U. has an independent line to Breezeland Inn andpoints beyond."

  "Well, our right-of-way man has just sent a telegram to all agents,signing Halkett's name. I don't know what he said in it, but you canfigure that out for yourself."

  "You bet I can!" was the emphatic rejoinder. And then: "Where are younow?"

  "I'm at the Clarendon public 'phone, but I am going over to the _Argus_office. I'll let you know when I leave there. Good-by."

  When Kent reached the night editor's den on the third floor of the _Argus_building he found Hildreth immersed chin-deep in a sea of work. But hequickly extricated himself and cleared a chair for his visitor.

  "Praise be!" he ejaculated. "I was beginning to get anxious. Large thingsare happening, and you didn't turn up. I've had Manville wiring all overtown for you."

  "What are some of the large things?" asked Kent, lighting his first cigarsince dinner.

  "Well, for one: do you know that your people are on the verge of themuch-talked-of strike?"

  "Yes; I knew it this morning. That was what I wanted you to suppress inthe evening edition."

  "I suppressed it all right; I didn't know it--day and date, I mean. Theykept it beautifully quiet. But that isn't all. Something is happening atthe capitol. I was over at the club a little while ago, and Hendricks wasthere. Somebody sent in a note, and he positively ran to get out. When Icame back, I sent Rogers over to Cassatti's to see if he could find you.There was a junto dinner confab on; Meigs, Senator Crowley, three or fourof the ring aldermen and half a dozen wa-ward politicians. Rogers has anose for news, and when he had 'phoned me you weren't there, he hungaround on the edges."

  "Good men you have,
Hildreth. What did the unimpeachable Rogers see?"

  "He saw on a large scale just what I had seen on a small one: somebodypup-passed a note in, and when it had gone the round of the dinner-tablethose fellows tumbled over each other trying to get away."

  "Is that all?" Kent inquired.

  "No. Apart from his nose, Rogers is gifted with horse sense. When thedinner crowd boarded an up-town car, our man paid fare to the sameconductor. He wired me from the Hotel Brunswick a few minutes ago. Thereis some sort of a caucus going on in Hendricks' office in the capitol, andmum-messengers are flying in all directions."

  "And you wanted me to come and tell you all the whys and wherefores?" Kentsuggested.

  "I told the chief I'd bet a bub-blind horse to a broken-down mule youcould do it if anybody could."

  "All right; listen: something worse than an hour ago the governor, hisprivate secretary, Guilford, Hawk and Halkett started out on a specialtrain to go to Gaston."

  "What for?" interrupted the editor.

  "To meet Judge MacFarlane, Mr. Semple Falkland, and the Overlandofficials. You can guess what was to be done?"

  "Sure. Your railroad was to be sold out, lock, stock and barrel; or leasedto the Overland for ninety-nine years--which amounts to the same thing."

  "Precisely. Well, by some unaccountable mishap the receiver's special wasswitched over to the Western Division at yard limits, and the engineerseems to think he has orders to proceed westward. At all events, that iswhat he is doing. And the funny part of it is that he can't stop to findout his blunder. The fast mail is right behind him, with the receiver'sorder to smash anything that gets in its way; so you see--"

  "That will do," said the night editor. "We don't print fairy stories inthe _Argus_."

  "None the less, you are going to print this one to-morrow morning, just asI'm telling it to you," Kent asserted confidently. "And when you get theepilogue you will say that it makes my little preface wearisome bycontrast."

  The light was slowly dawning in the editorial mind.

  "My heaven!" he exclaimed. "Kent, you're good for twenty years, at thevery lul-least!"

  "Am I? It occurs to me that the prosecuting attorney in the case will havea hard time proving anything. Doesn't it look that way to you? At theworst, it is only an unhappy misunderstanding of orders. And if the endshould happen to justify the means----"

  Hildreth shook his head gravely.

  "You don't understand, David. If you could be sure of a fair-minded judgeand an unbiased jury--you and those who are implicated with you: butyou'll get neither in this machine-ridden State."

  "We are going to have both, after you have filled your two columns--by theway, you are still saving those two columns for me, aren't you?--into-morrow morning's _Argus_. Or rather, I'm hoping there will be no needfor either judge or jury."

  The night editor shook his head again, and once more he said, "My heaven!"adding: "What could you possibly hope to accomplish? You'll get thereceiver and his big boss out of the State for a few minutes, or possiblyfor a few hours, if your strike makes them hunt up another railroad toreturn on. But what will it amount to? Getting rid of the receiver doesn'tannul the decree of the court."

  Kent fell back on his secretive habit yet once again.

  "I don't care to anticipate the climax, Hildreth. By one o'clock one oftwo things will have happened: you'll get a wire that will make your backhair sit up, or I'll get one that will make me wish I'd never been born.Let it rest at that for the present; you have work enough on hand to fillup the interval, and if you haven't, you can distribute those affidavits Igave you among the compositors and get them into type. I want to see themin the paper to-morrow morning, along with the other news."

  "Oh, we can't do that, David! The time isn't ripe. You know what I toldyou about----"

  "If the time doesn't ripen to-night, Hildreth, it never will. Do as I tellyou, and get that stuff into type. Do more; write the hottest editorialyou can think of, demanding to know if it isn't time for the people torise and clean out this stable once for all."

  "By Jove! David, I've half a mum-mind to do it. If you'd only unbuttonyourself a little, and let me see what my backing is going to be----"

  "All in good season," laughed Kent. "Your business for the present momentis to write; I'm going down to the Union Station."

  "What for?" demanded the editor.

  "To see if our crazy engineer is still mistaking his orders properly."

  "Hold on a minute. How did the enemy get wind of your plot so quickly? Youcan tell me that, can't you?"

  "Oh, yes; I told you Hawk was one of the party in the private car. He felloff at the yard limits station and came back to town."

  The night editor stood up and confronted his visitor.

  "David, you are either the coolest plunger that ever drew breath--or thebub-biggest fool. I wouldn't be standing in your shoes to-night for twosuch railroads as the T-W."

  Kent laughed again and opened the door.

  "I suppose not. But you know there is no accounting for the difference intastes. I feel as if I had never really lived before this night; the onlything that troubles me is the fear that somebody or something will get inthe way of my demented engineer."

  He went out into the hall, but as Hildreth was closing the door he turnedback.

  "There is one other thing that I meant to say: when you get your twocolumns of sensation, you've got to be decent and share with theAssociated Press."

  "I'm dud-dashed if I do!" said Hildreth, fiercely.

  "Oh, yes, you will; just the bare facts, you know. You'll have all theexciting details for an 'exclusive,' to say nothing of the batch ofaffidavits in the oil scandal. And it is of the last importance to me thatthe facts shall be known to-morrow morning wherever the Associated has awire."

  "Go away!" said the editor, "and dud-don't come back here till you canuncork yourself like a man and a Cuc-Christian! Go off, I say!"

  It wanted but a few minutes of eleven when Kent mounted the stair to thedespatcher's room in the Union Station. He found M'Tosh sitting atDonohue's elbow, and the sounders on the glass-topped table were cracklinglike overladen wires in an electric storm.

  "Strike talk," said the train-master. "Every man on both divisions wantsto know what's doing. Got your newspaper string tied up all right?"

  Kent made a sign of assent.

  "We are waiting for Mr. Patrick Callahan. Any news from him?"

  "Plenty of it. Patsy would have a story to tell, all right, if he couldstop to put it on the wires. Durgan ought to have caught that blamedright-of-way man and chloroformed him."

  "I found him messing, as I 'phoned you. Anything come of it?"

  "Nothing fatal, I guess, since Patsy is still humping along. But Hawk'snext biff was more to the purpose. He came down here with Halkett's chiefclerk, whom he had hauled out of bed, and two policemen. The plan was tofire Donohue and me, and put Bicknell in charge. It might have worked ifBicknell'd had the sand. But he weakened at the last minute; admitted thathe wasn't big enough to handle the despatcher's trick. The way Hawk cursedhim out was a caution to sinners."

  "When was this?" Kent asked.

  "Just a few minutes ago. Hawk went off ripping; swore he would findsomebody who wasn't afraid to take the wires. And, between us three, I'mscared stiff for fear he will."

  "Can it be done?"

  "Dead easy, if he knows how to go about it--and Bicknell will tell him.The Overland people don't love us any too well, and if they did, the leasedeal would make them side with Guilford and the governor. If Hawk asksthem to lend him a train despatcher for a few minutes, they'll do it."

  "But the union?" Kent objected.

  "They have three or four non-union men."

  "Still, Hawk has no right to discharge you."

  "Bicknell has. He is Halkett's representative, and----"

  The door opened suddenly and Hawk danced in, followed by a man bareheadedand in his shirt-sleeves, the superintendent's chief clerk, and the twoofficers.


  "Now, then, we'll trouble you and your man to get out of here, Mr.M'Tosh," said the captain of the junto forces, vindictively.

  But the train-master was of those who die hard. He protested vigorously,addressing himself to Bicknell and ignoring the ex-district attorney as ifhe were not. He, McTosh, was willing to surrender the office on anofficial order in writing over the chief clerk's signature. But didBicknell fully understand what it might mean in loss of life and propertyto put a new man on the wires at a moment's notice?

  Bicknell would have weakened again, but Hawk was not to be frustrated asecond time.

  "Don't you see he is only sparring to gain time?" he snapped at Bicknell.Then to M'Tosh: "Get out of here, and do it quick! And you can go, too,"wheeling suddenly upon Kent.

  Donohue had taken no part in the conflict of authority. But now he threwdown his pen and clicked his key to cut in with the "G.S.," which claimsthe wire instantly. Then distinctly, and a word at a time so that theslowest operator on the line could get it, he spelled out the message:"All Agents: Stop and hold all trains except first and second fast mail,west-bound. M'Tosh fired, and office in hands of police----"

  "Stop him!" cried the shirt-sleeved man. "He's giving it away on thewire!"

  But Donohue had signed his name and was putting on his coat.

  "You're welcome to what you can find," he said, scowling at theinterloper. "If you kill anybody now, it'll be your own fault."

  "Arrest that man!" said Hawk to his policemen; but Kent interposed.

  "If you do, the force will be two men shy to-morrow. The Civic Leagueisn't dead yet." And he took down the numbers of the two officers.

  There were no arrests made, and when the ousted three were clear of theroom and the building, Kent asked an anxious question.

  "How near can they come to smashing us, M'Tosh?"

  "That depends on Callahan's nerve. The night operators at Donerail,Schofield and Agua Caliente are all Guilford appointees, and when the newman explains the situation to them, they'll do what they are told to do.But I'm thinking Patsy won't pull up for anything milder than a spikedswitch."

  "Well, they might throw a switch on him. I wonder somebody hasn't done itbefore this."

  The train-master shook his head.

  "If Tischer is keeping close up behind, that would jeopardize more livesthan Callahan's. But there is another thing that doesn't depend onnerve--Patsy's or anybody's."

  "What is that?"

  "Water. The run is one hundred and eighty miles. The 1010's tank is goodfor one hundred with a train, or a possible hundred and sixty, light.There is about one chance in a thousand that Callahan's crown-sheet won'tget red-hot and crumple up on him in the last twenty miles. Let's take acar and go down to yard limits. We can sit in the office and hear whatgoes over the wires, even if we can't get a finger in to help Patsy out ofhis troubles."

  They boarded a Twentieth Avenue car accordingly, but when they reached theend of the line, which was just across the tracks from the junction in thelower yards, they found the yard limits office and the shops surrounded bya cordon of militia.

  "By George!" said M'Tosh. "They got quick action, didn't they? I supposeit's on the ground of the strike and possible violence."

  Kent spun on his heel, heading for the electric car they had just left.

  "Back to town," he said; "unless you two want to jump the midnightOverland as it goes out and get away while you can. If Callahan fails----"