by Leroy Scott
CHAPTER XII
OPPORTUNITY KNOCKS AT BRUCE'S DOOR
On the following morning Bruce had just finished an editorial onDoctor West's trial, and was busily thumping out an editorial on thelocal political situation--the Republican and Democratic conventionswere both but a few days off--when, lifting his scowling gaze to hiswindow while searching for the particular word he needed, he sawKatherine passing along the sidewalk across the street. Her face wasfresh, her step springy; hers was any but a downcast figure.Forgetting his editorial, he watched her turn the corner of the Squareand go up the broad, worn steps of the dingy old county jail.
"Well, what do we think of her?" queried a voice at his elbow.
Bruce turned abruptly.
"Oh, it's you, Billy. D'you see Blake?"
"Yes." The young fellow sank loungingly into the atlas-seated chair."He wouldn't say anything definite. Said it was up to the conventionto pick the candidates. But it's plain Kennedy's his choice formayor, and we'll be playing perfectly safe in predicting Kennedy'snomination."
"And Peck?"
"Blind Charlie said it was too early to make any forecasts. In doubtas to whom they'd put forward for mayor."
"Would Blake say anything about Doctor West's conviction?"
"Sorry for Doctor West's sake--but the case was clear--trial fair--awholesome example to the city--and some more of that line of talk."
Bruce grunted.
The reporter leisurely lit a cigarette.
"But how about the lady lawyer, eh?" He playfully prodded hissuperior's calf with his pointed shoe. "I suppose you'll fire me offyour rotten old sheet for saying it, but I still think she made adamned good showing considering that she had no case--and consideringalso that she was a woman." Again he thrust his toe into his chief."Considering she was a woman--eh, Arn?"
"Shut up, Billy, or I _will_ fire you," growled Bruce.
"Oh, all right," answered the other cheerfully. "After half a year ofthe nerve-racking social whirl of this metropolis, I think it would besort of restful to be back in dear, little, quiet Chicago. Butseriously now, Arn, you've got to admit she's good-looking?"
"Good looks don't make a lawyer!" retorted Bruce.
"But she's clever--got ideas--opinions of her own, and strong onestoo."
"Perhaps."
The reporter blew out a cloud of smoke.
"Arn, I've been thinking about a very interesting possibility."
"Well, make it short, and get in there and write your story!"
"I've been thinking," continued Billy meditatively, "over what aninteresting situation it would make if the super-masculine editor ofthe _Express_ should fall in love with the lady law----"
Bruce sprang up.
"Confound you, Billy! If I don't crack that empty little----"
But Billy, tilted back in his chair, held out his cigarette caseimperturbably.
"Take one, Arn. You'll find them very soothing for the nerves."
"You impertinent little pup, you!" He grabbed Billy by his long hair,held him a moment--then grinned affectionately and took a cigarette."You're the worst ever!" He dropped back into his chair. "Now shutup!"
"All right. But speaking impersonally, and with the unemotionalaloofness of a critic, you'll have to admit that it would make a gooddramatic situation."
"Blast you!" cried the editor. "Shall I fire you, or chuck you throughthe window?"
"Inasmuch as our foremost scientists are uniformly agreed that certainunpleasant results may eventuate when the force of gravitation bringsa human organism into sudden and severe juxtaposition with a cementsidewalk, I humbly suggest that you fire me. Besides, that act willautomatically avenge me, for then your yellow old newspaper will goplum to blazes!"
"For God's sake, Billy, get out of here and let me work!"
"But, seriously, Arn--I really am serious now"--and all the mischiefhad gone out of the reporter's eyes--"that Miss West would have put upa stunning fight if she had had any sort of a case. But she hadnothing to fight with. They certainly had the goods on her old man!"
Bruce turned from his machine and regarded the reporter thoughtfully.Then he crossed and closed the door which was slightly ajar, and againfixed his eyes searchingly on young Harper.
"Billy," he said in a low, impressive voice, "can you keep a bigsecret?"
At Bruce's searching, thoughtful gaze a look of humility crept intoBilly's face.
"Oh, I know you've got every right to doubt me," he acknowledged. "Icertainly did leak a lot at the mouth in Chicago when I was boozing somuch. But you know since you pulled me out of that wild bunch I wasdrinking my way to hell with and brought me down here, I've beenscrewed tight as a board to the water-wagon!"
"I know it, Billy. I shouldn't for an instant----"
"And, Arn," interrupted Billy, putting his arm contritely across theother's shoulder, "even though I do joke at you a little--simply can'thelp it--you know how eternally grateful I am to you! You're giving methe chance of my life to make a man of myself. People in this towndon't half appreciate you; they don't know you for what I knowyou--the best fellow that ever happened!"
"There, there! Cut it out, cut it out!" said Bruce gruffly, grippingthe other's hand.
"That's always the way," said Billy, resentfully. "Your only fault isthat you are so infernally bull-headed that a fellow can't even thankyou."
"You're thanking me the right way when you keep yourself bolted fastto the water-cart. What I started out to tell you, what I want you tokeep secret, is this: They put the wrong man in jail yesterday."
"What!" ejaculated Billy, springing up.
"I tell you this much because I want you to keep your eye on thestory. Hell's likely to break loose there any time, and I want you tobe ready to handle it in case I should have to be off the job."
"Good God, old man!" Billy stared at him. "What's behind all this? IfDoctor West's the wrong man, then who's the right one?"
"I can't tell you any more now."
"But how did you find this out?"
"I said I couldn't tell you any more."
A knowing look came slowly into Billy's face.
"H'm. So that was what Miss West called here about day beforeyesterday."
"Get in there and write your story," said Bruce shortly, and again satdown before his typewriter.
Billy stood rubbing his head dazedly for a long space, then he slowlymoved to the door. He opened it and paused.
"Oh, I say, Arn," he remarked in an innocent tone.
"Yes?"
"After all," he drawled, "it would make an interesting dramaticsituation, wouldn't it?"
Bruce whirled about and threw a statesman's year book, but youngHarper was already on the safe side of the door; and the incorrigibleBilly was saved from any further acts of reprisal being attemptedupon his person by the ringing of Bruce's telephone.
Bruce picked up the instrument.
"Hello. Who's this?" he demanded.
"Mr. Peck," was the answer.
"What! You don't mean 'Blind Charlie'?"
"Yes. I called up to see if you could come over to the hotel for alittle talk about politics."
"If you want to talk to me you know where to find me! Good-by!"
"Wait! Wait! What time will you be in?"
"The paper goes to press at two-thirty. Any time after then."
"I'll drop around before three."
Four hours later Bruce was glancing through that afternoon's paper,damp from the press, when there entered his office a stout, half-baldman of sixty-five, with loose, wrinkled, pouchy skin, drooping nose,and a mouth--stained faintly brown at its corners--whose cunning wasnot entirely masked by a good-natured smile. One eye had a shrewd andbeady brightness; the gray film over the other announced it withoutsight. This was "Blind Charlie" Peck, the king of Calloway Countypolitics until Blake had hurled him from his throne.
Bruce greeted the fallen monarch curtly and asked him to sit down.Bruce did not resume his seat, but half leaned against hi
s desk andeyed Blind Charlie with open disfavour.
The old man settled himself and smiled his good-natured smile at theeditor.
"Well, Mr. Bruce, this is mighty dry weather we're having."
"Yes. What do you want?"
"Well--well--" said the old man, a little taken aback, "you certainlydo jump into the middle of things."
"I've found that the quickest way to get there," retorted Bruce. "Youknow there's no use in you and me wasting any words. You know wellenough what I think of you."
"I ought to," returned Blind Charlie, dryly, but with good humour."You've said it often enough."
"Well, that there may be no mistake about it, I'll say it once more.You're a good-natured, good-hearted, cunning, unprincipled, hardenedold rascal of a politician. Now if you don't want to say what you camehere to say, the same route that brings you in here takes you out."
"Come, come," said the old man, soothingly. "I think you have said alot of harder things than were strictly necessary--especially since weboth belong to the same party."
"That's one reason I've said them. You've been running the party mostof your life--you're still running it--and see what you've made ofit. Every decent member is ashamed of it! It stinks all through thestate!"
Blind Charlie's face did not lose its smile of imperturbable goodnature. It was a tradition of Calloway County that he had never losthis temper.
"You're a very young man, Mr. Bruce," said the old politician, "andyoung blood loves strong language. But suppose we get away frompersonalities, and get away from the party's past and talk about itspresent and its future."
"I don't see that it has any present or future to talk about, with youat the helm."
"Oh, come now! Granted that my ways haven't been the best for theparty. Granted that you don't like me. Is that any reason we shouldn'tat least talk things over? Now, I admit we don't stand the shadow of aghost's show this election unless we make some changes. You representthe element in the party that has talked most for changes, and I havecome to get your views."
Bruce studied the loose-skinned, flabby face, wondering what was goingon behind that old mask.
"What are your own views?" he demanded shortly.
Blind Charlie had taken out a plug of tobacco and with a jack-knifehad cut off a thin slice. This, held between thumb and knife-blade,he now slowly transferred to his mouth.
"Perhaps they're nearer your own than you think. I see, too, that theold ways won't serve us now. Blake will put up a good ticket. I hearKennedy is to be his mayor. The whole ticket will be men who'll berespectable, but they'll see that Blake gets what he wants. Isn't thatso?"
Bruce thought suddenly of Blake's scheme to capture the water-works.
"Very likely," he admitted.
"Now between ourselves," the old man went on confidingly, "we knowthat Blake has been getting what he wants for years--of course in aquiet, moderate way. Did you ever think of this, how the people herecall me a 'boss' but never think of Blake as one? Blake's an 'eminentcitizen.' When the fact is, he's a stronger, cleverer boss than I everwas. My way is the old way; it's mostly out of date. Blake's way isthe new way. He's found out that the best method to get the people isto be clean, or to seem clean. If I wanted a thing I used to go outand grab it. If Blake wants a thing he makes it appear that he'swilling to go to considerable personal trouble to take it in order todo a favour to the city, and the people fall all over themselves togive it to him. He's got the churches lined up as solid behind himas I used to have the saloons. Now I know we can't beat Blake withthe kind of a ticket our party has been putting up. And I know wecan't beat Blake with a respectable ticket, for between ourrespectables----"
"Charlie Peck's respectables!" Bruce interrupted ironically.
"And Blake's respectables," the old man continued imperturbably, "thepeople will choose Blake's. Are my conclusions right so far?"
"Couldn't be more right. What next?"
"As I figure it out, our only chance, and that a bare fighting chance,is to put up men who are not only irreproachable, but who are radicalsand fighters. We've got to do something new, big, sensational, orwe're lost."
"Well?" said Bruce.
"I was thinking," said Blind Charlie, "that our best move would be torun you for mayor."
"Me?" cried Bruce, starting forward.
"Yes. You've got ideas. And you're a fighter."
Bruce scrutinized the old face, all suspicion.
"See here, Charlie," he said abruptly, "what the hell's your game?"
"My game?"
"Oh, come! Don't expect me to believe in you when you pose as areformer!"
"See here, Bruce," said the other a little sharply, "you've called meabout every dirty word lying around handy in the Middle West. But younever called me a hypocrite."
"No."
"Well, I'm not coming to you now pretending that I've been holding alittle private revival, and that I've been washed in the blood of theLamb."
"Then what's behind this? What's in it for you?"
"I'll tell you--though of course I can't make you believe me if youdon't want to. I'm getting pretty old--I'm sixty-seven. I may not livetill another campaign. I'd like to see the party win once more beforeI go. That's one thing. Another is, I've got it in for Blake, and wantto see him licked. I can't do either in my way. I can possibly do bothin your way. Mere personal satisfaction like this would have beenmighty little for me to have got out of an election in the old days.But it's better than nothing at all"--smiling good-naturedly--"even toa cunning, unprincipled, hardened old rascal of a politician."
"But what's the string tied to this offer?"
"None. You can name the ticket, write the platform----"
"It would be a radical one!" warned Bruce.
"It would have to be radical. Our only chance is in creating asensation."
"And if elected?"
"You shall make every appointment without let or hindrance. I know I'dbe a fool to try to bind you in any way."
Bruce was silent a long time, studying the wrinkled old face.
"Well, what do you say?" queried Blind Charlie.
"Frankly, I don't like being mixed up with you."
"But you believe in using existing party machinery, don't you? You'vesaid so in the _Express_."
"Yes. But I also have said that I don't believe in using it the wayyou have."
"Well, here's your chance to take it and use it your own way."
"But what show would I stand? Feeling in town is running strongagainst radical ideas."
"I know, I know. But you are a fighter, and with your energy you mightturn the current. Besides, something big may happen before election."
That same thought had been pulsing excitedly in Bruce's brain theselast few minutes. If Katherine could only get her evidence!
Bruce moved to the window and looked out so that that keen one eye ofBlind Charlie might not perceive the exultation he could no longerkeep out of his face. Bruce did not see the tarnished dome of theCourt House--nor the grove of broad elms, shrivelled and dusty--northe enclosing quadrangle of somnolent, drooping farm horses. He wasseeing this town shaken as by an explosion. He was seeing cataclysmicbattle, with Blind Charlie become a nonentity, Blake completelyannihilated, and himself victorious at the front. And, dream of hisdreams! he was seeing himself free to reshape Westville upon his ownideals.
"Well, what do you say?" asked Blind Charlie.
Controlling himself, Bruce turned about.
"I accept, upon the conditions you have named. But at the first signof an attempt to limit those conditions, I throw the whole businessoverboard."
"There will be no such attempt, so we can consider the mattersettled." Blind Charlie held out his hand, which Bruce, with somehesitation, accepted. "I congratulate you, I congratulate myself, Icongratulate the party. With you as leader, I think we've all got afighting chance to win."
They discussed details of Bruce's candidacy, they discussed theconvention; and a little later
Blind Charlie departed. Bruce, fistsdeep in trousers pockets, paced up and down his little office, or satfar down in his chair gazing at nothing, in excited, searchingthought. Billy Harper and other members of the staff, who came in tohim with questions, were answered absently with monosyllables. Atlength, when the Court House clock droned the hour of five through thehot, burnt-out air, Bruce washed his hands and brawny fore-arms at theold iron sink in the rear of the reporter's room, put on his coat, andstrode up Main Street. But instead of following his habit and turningoff into Station Avenue, where was situated the house in which he andOld Hosie ate and slept and had their quarrels, he continued his wayand turned into an avenue beyond--on his face the flush of defiantfirmness of the bold man who finds himself doing the exact thing hehad sworn that he would never do.
He swung open the gate of the West yard, and with firm step went up tothe house and rang the bell. When the screen swung open Katherineherself was in the doorway--looking rather excited, trimly dressed, onher head a little hat wound with a veil.
"May I come in?" he asked shortly.
"Why, certainly," and she stepped aside.
"I didn't know."
He bowed and entered the parlour and stood rather stiffly in thecentre of the room.
"My reason for daring to violate your prohibition of three days ago,and enter this house, is that I have something to tell you that mayprove to have some bearing upon your father's case."
"Please sit down. When I apologized to you I considered the apology asequivalent to removing all signs against trespassing."
They sat down, and for a moment they gazed at each other, stillfeeling themselves antagonists, though allies--she smilingly at herease, he grimly serious.
"Now, please, what is it?" she asked.
Bruce, speaking reservedly at first, told her of Blind Charlie'soffer. As he spoke he warmed up and was quite excited when he ended."And now," he cried, "don't you see how this works in with the fightto clear your father? It's a great opportunity--haven't thought outyet just how we can use it--that will depend upon developments,perhaps--but it's a great opportunity! We'll sweep Blake completelyand utterly from power, reinstate your father in position and honour,and make Westville the finest city of the Middle West!"
But she did not seem to be fired by the torch of his enthusiasm. Infact, there was a thoughtful, questioning look upon her face.
"Well, what do you think of it?" he demanded.
"I have been given to understand," she said pleasantly, "that it isunwomanly to have opinions upon politics."
He winced.
"This is hardly the time for sarcasm. What do you think?"
"If you want my frank opinion, I am rather inclined to beware ofGreeks bearing gifts," she replied.
"What do you mean?"
"When a political boss, and a boss notoriously corrupt, offers anoffice to a good man, I think the good man should be very, verysuspicious."
"You think Peck has some secret corrupt purpose? I've beenscrutinizing the offer for two hours. I know the ins and outs of thelocal political situation from A to Z. I know all Peck's tricks. But Ihave not found the least trace of a hidden motive."
"Perhaps you haven't found it because it's hidden so shrewdly, sodeeply, that it can't be seen."
"I haven't found it because it's not there to find!" retorted Bruce."Peck's motive is just what he told me; I'm convinced he was tellingthe truth. It's a plain case, and not an uncommon case, of apolitician preferring the chance of victory with a good ticket, tocertain defeat with a ticket more to his liking."
"I judge, then, that you are inclined to accept."
"I have accepted," said Bruce.
"I hope it will turn out better than worst suspicion might make usfear."
"Oh, it will!" he declared. "And mark me, it's going to turn out afar bigger thing for your father than you seem to realize."
"I hope that more fervently than do you!"
"I suppose you are going to keep up your fight for your father?"
"I expect to do what I can," she answered calmly.
"What are you going to do?"
She smiled sweetly, apologetically.
"You forget only one day has passed since the trial. You can hardlyexpect a woman's mind to lay new plans as quickly as a man's."
Bruce looked at her sharply, as though there might be irony in this;but her face was without guile. She glanced at her watch.
"Pardon me," he said, noticing this action and standing up. "You haveyour hat on; you were going out?"
"Yes. And I'm afraid I must ask you to excuse me." She gave him herhand. "I hope you don't mind my saying it, but if I were you I'd keepall the eyes I've got on Mr. Peck."
"Oh, I'll not let him fool me!" he answered confidently.
As he walked out of the yard he was somewhat surprised to see theancient equipage of Mr. Huggins waiting beside the curb. And he wasrather more surprised when a few minutes later, as he neared his home,Mr. Huggins drove past him toward the station, with Katherine in theseat behind him. In response to her possessed little nod he amazedlylifted his hat. "Now what the devil is she up to?" he ejaculated, andstared after her till the old carriage turned in beside the stationplatform. As he reached his gate the eastbound Limited came roaringinto the station. The truth dawned upon him. "By God," he cried, "ifshe isn't going back to New York!"
