The Honorable Peter Stirling and What People Thought of Him

by Paul Leicester Ford

  CHAPTER XLIX.

  CLOUDS.

  But a month later he was far happier, for one morning towards the end ofAugust, his mail brought him a letter from Watts, announcing that theyhad been four days installed in their Newport home, and that Peter wouldnow be welcome any time. "I have purposely not filled Grey-Court thissummer, so that you should have every chance. Between you and me and thepost, I think there have been moments when mademoiselle missed 'herfriend' far more than she confessed."

  "Dat's stronory," thought Jenifer. "He dun eat mo' dis yar hot mo'nin'dan he dun in two mumfs."

  Then Jenifer was sent out with a telegram, which merely said: "May Icome to-day by Shore line limited? P.S."

  "When you get back, Jenifer," said Peter, "you may pack my trunk andyour own. We may start for Newport at two." Evidently Peter did notintend to run any risks of missing the train, in case the answer shouldbe favorable.

  Peter passed into his office, and set to work to put the loose ends insuch shape that nothing should go wrong during his absence. He had notworked long, when one of the boys told him that:

  "Mr. Cassius Curlew wants to see you, Mr. Stirling."

  Peter stopped his writing, looking up quickly: "Did he say on whatbusiness?"

  "No."

  "Ask him, please." And Peter went on writing till the boy returned.

  "He says it's about the convention."

  "Tell him he must be more specific."

  The boy returned in a moment with a folded scrap of paper.

  "He said that would tell you, Mr. Stirling."

  Peter unfolded the scrap, and read upon it: "A message from Maguire."

  "Show him in." Peter touched a little knob on his desk on which wasstamped "Chief Clerk." A moment later a man opened a door. "Samuels,"said Peter, "I wish you would stay here for a moment. I want you tolisten to what's said."

  The next moment a man crossed the threshold of another door."Good-morning, Mr. Stirling," he said.

  "Mr. Curlew," said Peter, without rising and with a cold inclination ofhis head.

  "I have a message for you, Mr. Stirling," said the man, pulling a chairinto a position that suited him, and sitting, "but it's private."

  Peter said nothing, but began to write.

  "Do you understand? I want a word with you private," said the man aftera pause.

  "Mr. Samuels is my confidential clerk. You can speak with perfectfreedom before him." Peter spoke without raising his eyes from hiswriting.

  "But I don't want any one round. It's just between you and me."

  "When I got your message," said Peter, still writing, "I sent for Mr.Samuels. If you have anything to say, say it now. Otherwise leave itunsaid."

  "Well, then," said the man, "your party's been tricking us, and we won'tstand it."

  Peter wrote diligently.

  "And we know who's back of it. It was all pie down to that dinner ofyours."

  "Is that Maguire's message?" asked Peter, though with no cessation ofhis labors.

  "Nop," said the man. "That's the introduction. Now, we know what itmeans. You needn't deny it. You're squinting at the governorshipyourself. And you've made the rest go back on Maguire, and work for youon the quiet. Oh, we know what's going on."

  "Tell me when you begin on the message," said Peter, still writing.

  "Maguire's sent me to you, to tell you to back water. To stop bucking."

  "Tell Mr. Maguire I have received his message."

  "Oh, that isn't all, and don't you forget it! Maguire's in this for furand feathers, and if you go before the convention as a candidate, we'llfill the air with them."

  "Is that part of the message?" asked Peter.

  "By that we mean that half an hour after you accept the nomination,we'll have a force of detectives at work on your past life, and we'llhunt down and expose every discreditable thing you've ever done."

  Peter rose, and the man did the same instantly, putting one of his handson his hip-pocket. But even before he did it, Peter had begun speaking,in a quiet, self-contained voice: "That sounds so like Mr. Maguire, thatI think we have the message at last. Go to him, and say that I havereceived his message. That I know him, and I know his methods. That Iunderstand his hopes of driving me, as he has some, from his path, bythreats of private scandal. That, judging others by himself, he believesno man's life can bear probing. Tell him that he has misjudged for once.Tell him that he has himself decided me in my determination to acceptthe nomination. That rather than see him the nominee of the Democraticparty, I will take it myself. Tell him to set on his blood-hounds. Theyare welcome to all they can unearth in my life."

  Peter turned towards his door, intending to leave the room, for he wasnot quite sure that he could sustain this altitude, if he saw more ofthe man. But as his hand was on the knob, Curlew spoke again.

  "One moment," he called. "We've got something more to say to you. Wehave proof already."

  Peter turned, with an amused look on his face. "I was wondering," hesaid, "if Maguire really expected to drive me with such vague threats."

  "No siree," said Curlew with a self-assured manner, but at the same timeputting Peter's desk between the clerk and himself, so that his flankcould not be turned. "We've got some evidence that won't be sweetreading for you, and we're going to print it, if you take thenomination."

  "Tell Mr. Maguire he had better put his evidence in print at once. ThatI shall take the nomination."

  "And disgrace one of your best friends?" asked Curlew.

  Peter started slightly, and looked sharply at the man.

  "Ho, ho," said Curlew. "That bites, eh? Well, it will bite worse beforeit's through with."

  Peter stood silent for a moment, but his hands trembled slightly, andany one who understood anatomy could have recognized that every musclein his body was at full tension. But all he said was: "Well?"

  "It's about that trip of yours on the 'Majestic.'"

  Peter looked bewildered.

  "We've got sworn affidavits of two stewards," Curlew continued, "aboutyours and some one else's goings on. I guess Mr. and Mrs. Rivingtonwon't thank you for having them printed."

  Instantly came a cry of fright, and the crack of a revolver, whichbrought Peter's partners and the clerks crowding into the room. It wasto find Curlew lying back on the desk, held there by Peter with onehand, while his other, clasping the heavy glass inkstand, was swungaloft. There was a look on Peter's face that did not become it. Aninsurance company would not have considered Curlew's life at that momenta fair risk.

  But when Peter's arm descended it did so gently, put the inkstand backon the desk, and taking a pocket-handkerchief wiped a splash of ink fromthe hand that had a moment before been throttling Curlew. That worthystruggled up from his back-breaking attitude and the few parts of hisface not drenched with ink, were very white, while his hands trembledmore than had Peter's a moment before.

  "Peter!" cried Ogden. "What is it?"

  "I lost my temper for a moment," said Peter.

  "But who fired that shot?"

  Peter turned to the clerks. "Leave the room," he said, "all of you. Andkeep this to yourselves. I don't think the other floors could have heardanything through the fire-proof brick, but if any one comes, refer themto me." As the office cleared, Peter turned to his partners and said:"Mr. Curlew came here with a message which he thought needed theprotection of a revolver. He judged rightly, it seems."

  "Are you hit?"

  "I felt something strike." Peter put his hand to his side. He unbuttonedhis coat and felt again. Then he pulled out a little sachet from hisbreast-pocket, and as e did so, a flattened bullet dropped to the floor.Peter looked into the sachet anxiously. The bullet had only gone throughthe lower corner of the four photographs and the glove! Peter laughedhappily. "I had a gold coin in my pocket, and the bullet struck that.Who says that a luck-piece is nothing but a superstition?"

  "But, Peter, shan't we call the police?" demanded Ogden, still lookingstunned.

  Curlew moved toward
s the door.

  "One moment," said Peter, and Curlew stopped.

  "Ray," Peter continued, "I am faced with a terrible question. I wantyour advice?"

  "What, Peter?"

  "A man is trying to force me to stand aside and permit a politicalwrong. To do this, he threatens to publish lying affidavits of worthlessscoundrels, to prove a shameful intimacy between a married woman andme."

  "Bosh," laughed Ray. "He can publish a thousand and no one would believethem of you."

  "He knows that. But he knows, too, that no matter how untrue, it wouldconnect her name with a subject shameful to the purest woman that everlived. He knows that the scavengers of gossip will repeat it, and gloatover it. That the filthy society papers will harp on it for years. Thatin the heat of a political contest, the partisans will be only too gladto believe it and repeat it. That no criminal prosecution, no courtvindication, will ever quite kill the story as regards her. And so hehopes that, rather than entail this on a woman whom I love, and on herhusband and family, I will refuse a nomination. I know of such a case inMassachusetts, where, rather than expose a woman to such a danger, theman withdrew. What should I do?"

  "Do? Fight him. Tell him to do his worst."

  Peter put his hand on Ray's shoulder.

  "Even if--if--it is one dear to us both?"

  "Peter!"

  "Yes. Do you remember your being called home in our Spanish trip,unexpectedly? You left me to bring Miss De Voe, and--Well. They'vebribed, or forged affidavits of two of the stewards of the 'Majestic.'"

  Ray tried to spring forward towards Curlew. But Peter's hand stillrested on his shoulder, and held him back, "I started to kill him,"Peter said quietly, "but I remembered he was nothing but the miserablego-between."

  "My God, Peter! What can I say?"

  "Ray! The stepping aside is nothing to me. It was an office which I wasready to take, but only as a sacrifice and a duty. It is to preventwrong that I interfered. So do not think it means a loss to me toretire."

  "Peter, do what you intended to do. We must not compromise with wrongeven for her sake."

  The two shook hands, "I do not think they will ever use it, Ray," saidPeter. "But I may be mistaken, and cannot involve you in thepossibility, without your consent."

  "Of course they'll use it," cried Ogden. "Scoundrels who could think ofsuch a thing, will use it without hesitation."

  "No," said Peter. "A man who uses a coward's weapons, is a coward atheart. We can prevent it, I think." Then he turned to Curlew. "Tell Mr.Maguire about this interview. Tell him that I spared you, because youare not the principal. But tell him from me, that if a word is breathedagainst Mrs. Rivington, I swear that I'll search for him till I findhim, and when I find him I'll kill him with as little compunction as Iwould a rattlesnake." Peter turned and going to his dressing-room,washed away the ink from his hands.

  Curlew shuffled out of the room, and, black as he was, went straight tothe Labor headquarters and told his story.

  "And he'll do it too, Mr. Maguire," he said. "You should have seen hislook as he said it, and as he stood over me. I feel it yet."

  "Do you think he means it?" said Ray to Ogden, when they were back inRay's room.

  "I wouldn't think so if I hadn't seen his face as he stood over thatskunk. But if ever a man looked murder he did at that moment. And quietold Peter of all men!"

  "We must talk to him. Do tell him that--"

  "Do you dare do it?"

  "But you--?"

  "I don't. Unless he speaks I shall--"

  "Ray and Ogden," said a quiet voice, "I wish you would write out whatyou have just seen and heard. It may be needed in the future."

  "Peter, let me speak," cried Ray. "You mustn't do what you said. Thinkof such an end to your life. No matter what that scoundrel does, don'tend your life on a gallows. It--"

  Peter held up his hand. "You don't know the American people, Ray. IfMaguire uses that lying story, I can kill him, and there isn't a jury inthe country which, when the truth was told, wouldn't acquit me. Maguireknows it, too. We have heard the last of that threat, I'm sure."

  Peter went back to his office. "I don't wonder," he thought, as he stoodlooking at the ink-stains on his desk and floor, "that people thinkpolitics nothing but trickery and scoundrelism. Yet such vile weaponsand slanders would not be used if there were not people vile and meanenough at heart to let such things influence them. The fault is not inpolitics. It is in humanity."