A Frontier Knock
The next afternoon Winifred lay back in a low chair before a leaping
wood fire. She wanted to think, to puzzle out all that was taking place
around her. She recognized, yet refused to accept the verdict of her
common sense. She was no unsophisticated school girl; she was a woman of
the world. The social and political atmosphere in which she moved seemed
charged with dynamic possibilities. Her closed eyes suddenly brimmed
with tears. Winifred let them fall unheeded, feeling miserable
consolation in her self-pity, as women will.
Apart from the senatorial contest lay her personal interest in the game
being played by the scheming Burroughs, the unscrupulous Moore and the
ambitious Eva, on the one side, and her brother on the other. What
chance had Charlie against such a combination? Robert Burroughs had
judged truly; Blair's degradation would hurt Winifred inexpressibly. He
had chuckled as he had watched the growing attachment between his
brother-in-law and the girl, and thought of his vow. He realized that
here was a way to bring vicarious suffering upon the man whose
distinction had first roused his envy and whose rectitude had won his
hatred.
As Winifred groped in the tangle of State and private intrigues that
enmeshed her, the fire burned low and the snapping of an occasional
spark checked and soothed until her mind slipped into more peaceful
channels. She looked about the quiet room. The firelight threw her face
into relief and accentuated the faint lines of pain that had come during
the last few weeks; a pensive touch had been added to a countenance that
combined loveliness with strength. The yellow puff-ball in the gilded
cage by the window stirred drowsily, with a faint, comforting chirp. The
white and gold of blossoming narcissi, rising from their sheaths of
green, gleamed purely from a tabouret, and their incense filled the
room.
Presently she took up events of recent occurrence with clearer mind. She
had probably exaggerated the seeming coherence of disconnected
happenings. She longed to think so. Eva took great interest in the
senatorial contest. Should that be an indictment? She craved
excitement--expected to hold the stage in any episode; her position as
the wife of an eminent jurist gave her a certain prestige in the
political arena where pretty women were not unwelcome. The power they
wielded, whether consciously or not, was almost unlimited--Winifred had
seen enough of the average legislator to appreciate that fact.
In thinking it over, Winifred admitted that Mrs. Latimer had known for
many years Mr. Burroughs, Mr. Moore, Mr. Danvers and her brother
Charlie--four of the men who were playing their part in the drama fast
drawing to its climax. What cause for apprehension in this? Ever since
the Latimers' marriage their home had been a rendezvous for the
politicians of the State--at least, of Arthur's party. Surely Mrs.
Latimer could receive the same guests, even if the judge was away--even
if some among her satellites were men whose reputations excluded them
from all but the very smartest set. If she talked politics she did so in
the pursuit of her affirmed desire to learn of politics at first hand.
It could not be that she would descend to the plane of a lobbyist! But
what would Judge Latimer think of this surprising fervor? He would not
care to express himself as opposed to Burroughs. Did not Eva care for
her husband's opinions--for his reputation? Winifred did not feel called
upon to judge her friend; she was only trying to account for the
circumstantial evidence accumulating against Eva.
When the girl turned her thoughts to her brother, she was sucked into a
whirling maelstrom. The doctor's opinion of her had been correct. She
knew her brother and his fluctuating fortunes as only a sister of
infinite love and infinite tact could know. But she never had dreamed
that he could be enmeshed by the wiles of the wife of his friend. The
crux of the whole matter lay in the possibility of saving him, not only
from Eva's hypnotic charm, but from the less intricate and more thinly
concealed machinations of Mr. Moore. Winifred felt her first smart of
anger revive toward Mrs. Latimer as she recalled how ingenuously Charlie
had been led to the juggernaut of Burroughs' ambition.
It was horrible--horrible! Afresh came the intolerable loathing of it
all--this overshadowing political machine, that could scatter ruin in
its wake even if it did not obtain control.
Winifred knew that Danvers was studying every move and checkmating where
he could. She felt that if possible he would prevent this crime of
buying a United States senatorship. He would protect Charlie. Through
the doctor she learned how strong a bulwark of the State the senator
from Chouteau County was proving to be. She gloried in these recitals,
and longed to confide in her old friend, but always the woman's
reticence withheld her.
Presently a tap came at the door, and Mrs. Latimer appeared on
Winifred's invitation to enter.
"How fortunate," she said, "that you came to the hotel for the winter!
It's not only more convenient for you and Charlie, but for me. Would you
sit by baby for a half hour, Winnie, dear?" she entreated. "The nurse is
out, and I must run downtown before six."
"Yes, indeed! I'd love to."
They passed into the Latimers' apartments, and when Eva finally left,
Winifred sat down beside the crib where the child slept. Heavy portieres
hung behind her, evidently covering the double doors leading into other
rooms beyond. In the stillness she heard a voice.
"I tell you I don't want any paltry thousand dollars! I know of three
men who've got five thousand. You promised----" The rest was indistinct.
A soothing voice followed that Winifred recognized; then: "I don't care
a damn if everybody can hear. I want what you promised if I vote
for----" The speaker must have walked from the dividing wall, for the
girl heard no more. After a time an almost inaudible scratch, scratch
came from behind the draperies. Winifred rose in dismay, throwing down
the book she was reading. Who was seeking entrance through this private
door? It was evidently a preconcerted signal, for it came again,
impatiently; then cautious footsteps retreated. Winifred choked the
shudder that swept over her. Mr. Burroughs' headquarters took all the
rooms on that side of the hall except those occupied by Judge Latimer
and his family. She had heard the unmistakable voice of Mr. Moore. Had
he used that frontier knock--a scratch on the door as he might scratch
on the flap of a tent?
In a frenzy the girl walked through the suite.
"I will not believe--I will not!" she said to herself. "I do not
understand; but it is all right--I'm sure it is. I'll stand by Eva--she
shall not be talked about--shall not do foolish things. Oh, this
contest! And poor Judge Latimer!" Her thoughts raced on. "How much worse
if someone else had heard that signal! But it meant nothing--of course,
it meant nothing!"
She smiled, with a conscious effort, when Mrs. Latimer returned, with
apologies for delay; and resolved again not to abandon Eva to the
innuendos that were already circulating.
"Shall we go down to dinner together, Eva?" she asked, gently. "I'm
alone to-night; Charlie is dining at the club."
"Thank you, dear. I believe I'll have my dinner sent up. Thank you so
much!"
After her lonely meal Winifred remembered her unfinished book, and
thought to get it as she stepped from the elevator. She knocked lightly
at Mrs. Latimer's door. She heard a faint rustle inside, then all was
still. Again she gave a soft, playful battering of open palms on the
panels; then she fled to her own apartments, and flung herself face
downward on the pillowed couch, weeping as though her heart would
break.
[Illustration]