"That's ridiculous," flushed Alice. "I only suggested that you wait till after the election before chaining him to your chariot wheels.""You're certainly an _enfant terrible_, my dear," murmured the widow, with the little rippling laugh of cynicism her cousin found so annoying. "But that young man does need a lesson. He's eaten up with conceit of himself. Somebody ought to take him in hand.""So you're going to sacrifice yourself to duty," scoffed Alice as she brought the electric to a stop under the porte-cochere of the Fromeresidence.
Mrs. Van Tyle folded her hands demurely. "It's sweet of you to see it that way, Alice."PART 2
James turned in at the Century Building. In the elevator he met his cousin. Both of them were bound for the office of the candidate being supported by the progressives for the Senate.
"Anything new?" Jeff asked.
"A rumor that Killen has fallen by the wayside. Big Tim was with him for an hour last night at the Pacific.""I've not been sure of Killen for quite a while. He's a weak sister." "He'd better not go wrong if he expects to keep on living in this state,"James imparted, a hard light in his eyes.
At the third floor they left the elevator and turned to the right under an arch bearing the sign Hardy, Elliott & Carson. Without knocking they passed into Hardy's private office.
Of the three men they found there it was plain that one was being pushed doggedly to bay. He was small and insignificant, with weak blinking eyes. Standing with his back to the wall, he moistened his lips with the tip of his tongue.
"Who says it?" he whined shrilly. "Who says I sold out?"An apoplectic, bull-necked ruffian stood directly in front of him and sawed the air violently with a fat forefinger.
"I ain't sayin' it, Killen--I'm askin' if you have. What I say is that you'd better make your will before you vote for Frome. Make 'em pay fat, for by thunder! you'll be political junk, Mr. Sam Killen."Killen, sweating agony, turned appealingly to Jeff. "I haven't said I was going to vote for Frome. Mr. Rawson's got no right to bulldoze me and I'm not going to stand it.""The hell you ain't," roared Rawson, shaking his fist at the unhappy legislator. "I guess you'll stand the gaff till you explain.""Just a moment, Bob," interrupted Jeff. "Let's get at the facts. Don't convict the prisoner till the evidence is in."Rawson hobbled his wrath for the moment. "That's all right, Jeff. You ask Hardy. I'm giving you straight goods."The keen-eyed, smooth-shaven man in a gray business suit who had been listening silently to the gathering storm contributed information briefly and impartially.
"Mr. Killen spent an hour last night with Big Tim at the Pacific Hotel." "Sneaked in by the side entrance and took the elevator to the seventhfloor. The deal was arranged in Room 743," added Rawson. "You spied on me," burst from Killen's lips.
"Sure thing. And we caught you with the goods," sneered the red- faced politician.
"I'll not stand it. I'll not support a man that won't trust me.""You won't, eh?" Rawson was across the floor in two jumps, worrying his victim as a terrier does a rat. "Forget it. You were elected to support R.
K. Hardy, sewed up with a pledge tight and fast. We're not in the primer class, Killen. Don't get a notion you're going to do as you damn please. You'll--vote--for--R.--K.-- Hardy. Get that?""I refuse to be moved by threats, and I decline to discuss the matter further," retorted Killen with a pitiable attempt at dignity.
Rawson laughed with insulting menace. "That's a good one. I've sold out, but it's none of your business what I got. That what you mean?""You surely must recognize our right to an explanation, Killen," Jeff said gently.
"No, sir, I don't," flushed the little man with sullen bravado. "I ain't got a thing against you, but Rawson goes too far.""I think he does," Jeff agreed. "Killen is all right. Gentlemen, suppose you let him and me talk it over alone. We can reach an agreement that is satisfactory."Hardy's face cleared. This was not the first waverer Jeff had brought back into line, not the first by several. There was something compelling in his friendly smile and affectionate manner.
"I'm sure Mr. Killen intends only what is right. I'm content to leave the matter entirely with you and him," Hardy said.
Jeff turned to Rawson. "And you, old warhorse?""Have it your own way, but don't forget there's a nigger in the woodpile."Jeff and Killen walked to the office of the latter, which was on the next floor of the Century Building, the legislator stiffening his will to resist the assaults he felt would be made upon it. But as soon as the door was shut Jeff surprised him by laying a hand on his shoulder.
"Tell me all about it, Sam."
Killen gasped. He got an impossible vision of young Farnum as his brother in trouble. "About what? I didn't say--""I've known for a week something was wrong. I couldn't very well ask you, but since I've blundered in you'd better let me help you if I can."Killen was touched. His lip trembled. "It don't do any good to talk about things. I guess a fellow has to carry his own griefs. Nobody else is hunting for a chance to invest in them.""What's a friend for?" Jeff wanted to know gently.
The little man gulped. "I guess I've got no friends. Anyhow they don't count when a fellow's in hard luck. It's every man for himself."The younger man's smile was warm as summer sunshine. "Wrong guess, Sam. We're in this little old world to help each other when we can."The wretched man drew the back of a trembling hand across his moist eyes. He inhaled a long sobbing breath and broke into apology for his weakness. "Haven't slept for a week except from trional. The back of my head pricks day and night. Can't think of anything but my troubles.""Unload them on me," Jeff said lightly.
"It's that mortgage on my mill," Killen blurted out. "It falls due this month and I can't meet it. Things haven't been going well with me.""Can't you get it renewed?"
