The Lobbyist
Fate, woman-like, cares not what means she employs to hurt. She takes
what comes first to hand. Sometimes the more unlikely the weapon, the
more effective is its use.
The same afternoon that Danvers tried to overtake Miss Blair, two
talkative drummers boarded the west-bound train at a small Montana
station, doubling back to Helena. As they entered the smoking
compartment of a sleeper they found it empty save for a slight,
weary-looking man who was gazing abstractedly at the wintry plains.
"Here, don't sit that side," said one; "the sun glares on the snow too
much."
As the drummer spoke to his friend he gave a passing glance at the
preoccupied stranger, and chanced to take the seat directly in front of
him. The other followed his advice, facing him.
"What's doing in Helena? I've been gone a week, but I see by the paper
you haven't elected a senator yet."
"Naw," returned his companion; "hadn't yesterday, when I took the
train."
"Pretty stiff contest."
"Pretty slick man bound to win out."
"Wish I was a member, with all the swag there is floating 'round."
"Wish I was a member with a right pretty woman coaxing for my vote!"
"What's that? I hadn't heard of that yet." The speaker leaned forward,
scenting scandal.
"Aw! It's no secret in Helena. It's the talk of the town."
"I never heard a word. I thought politics was free from petticoats out
here."
"They never are--anywhere. You know Charlie Blair?"
The drummer interrogated shook his head.
"Well, he's a Helena man, and one of the State senators. There's a woman
lobbyin' for Burroughs, so they say, and she's got Blair batty! Last man
in the world you'd expect to be caught by a woman. They say he's a great
friend of her husband's, too--Judge Latimer."
A stifled moan came from the seat behind the drummers.
"You don't say! Any talk about her before?"
"Search me!"
"Probably there's nothing in it," concluded the other, with unexpected
charity. "You know how people surmise the worst. She doesn't care for
him, I take it."
"Naw! At least, not if I size her up correct. She's a good-looker, all
right; she was pointed out to me one night in the hotel dining-room. It
was easy to see where _she_ was stuck! She couldn't keep her eyes off a
tall, good-looking fellow, that I was told was the senator from Chouteau
County."
The other nodded. "I've heard of him. He's the head of the opposition to
Burroughs in the Republican party. Danvers, his name is--Englishman--in
the cattle business."
"I saw the situation right away. Bill Moore, Burroughs' political boss,
you know, says that years ago they had an affair over in the Whoop Up
Country--wherever that is, and----"
"Bozeman!" said the porter, interrupting the conversation.
"I got to see a man here," said one of the drummers. "Come along. It
won't take but a minute. He'll be waiting on the platform; I wired
him."
"That man looked bad," commented the other, jerking his thumb backward
as they stepped from the car. "Did you notice how ghastly his face was?
I thought for a moment he was going to speak to you."
They passed on, and the conductor, who followed a moment later, stopped
abruptly at sight of the limp figure, and hurried into the next coach.
"Is there a doctor on board?" he asked. "A man has fainted--or had a
stroke. It's Judge Latimer, of Helena."
And the instruments of fate never knew what a deadly blow they had
delivered.
* * * * *
That evening Mrs. Latimer, exquisitely gowned and radiating magnetism,
was again trying to persuade Senator Blair to vote for Mr. Burroughs.
"Burroughs is capable of more skulduggery than any man in the State,"
declared her caller, after they had talked somewhat of the senatorial
candidate. "I can't see why you keep on harping on his fitness for the
place."
"Do you know, I admire him," responded Mrs. Latimer, with apparent
frankness. "He may be unscrupulous; but he has been successful. The end
justifies the means, I think."
"I've promised Senator Danvers that I would not vote for Burroughs,"
affirmed Blair, stubbornly. Eva had treated him coolly for a few days,
and he had practically decided that he wanted neither Judge Latimer's
wife nor Burroughs' money. But as he gazed at the lady's ripe beauty he
became more infatuated than before. He changed the subject abruptly. "I
must go down to the valley to-morrow, after the session adjourns. Will
you come with me for a ride?"
"Are you crazy?" Mrs. Latimer spoke with scorn.
"No one will see us," he pleaded. "I can pick you up where you used to
live. You can wear a veil if you like. What do we care if we do meet
somebody we know? You belong to the smart set--you can do anything you
like." Charlie laughed loud.
"My dear friend," Eva began, cynically, believing that her position had
so far made her exempt from comment, "the world is too suspicious. No
man and woman can foregather without some pure soul interpreting that
companionship to its own satisfaction. Besides, I expect Arthur any day
now. He neither writes nor wires me just when he can come."
"You'll never do a thing to please me!" cried Blair, hotly. "I am the
one who must grant favors. I----"
"Aren't you a man, and therefore to be compliant?" returned Eva, her
smile tempering her insolence. Then, pleading, although her eyes grew
no softer: "Only one thing do I ask, Senator. Please, please grant me
that! Don't you care for me more than for Senator Danvers? Break your
promise to him--for me." She was very enticing as she bent towards him,
and he was conscious of the faint perfume about her.
"Mr. Burroughs needs your vote," she went on, persuasively; "and if you
give it to him--as I've told you a hundred times--he has promised that
he will provide for Arthur; and you like Arthur."
"And what do _I_ get out of it?"
"You'll please _me_," was the caressing answer. "And--I never thought of
it before," she hastened to add, as the scar grew more conspicuous--a
sure register of his emotions--"why not ask Mr. Burroughs to get you to
Berlin, too--as first secretary or something, if we go there?" She must
throw him some encouragement. "I hate Helena. You do yourself. If we
were in Berlin, we'd be where life is--a whirl of----"
"Madness," Senator Blair finished her sentence for her, thickly. "I do
not have to go away from Helena for that sensation!" He lost control of
himself. "You drive me mad, Eva! You are more tempting than ever! Give
me one kiss--one--and I'll vote for Burroughs till hell freezes over!"
The language of the frontier returned, in his abandon.
"Not now!" The temptress was thoroughly alarmed. She had thought to
control any situation, but--Charlie's eyes--so near her own!
"Perhaps--when you have voted for----" She must secure this man's vote
for Burroughs, even if she bartered her self-respect.
"Now, by God! Now!"
"No! No!" In terror Eva gave a suppressed cry and turned to escape the
arms of the man she had maddened. With his hot lips brushing her own she
turned away her face in impotent writhing, and saw her husband standing
in the doorway.
"Pardon me," apologized Latimer, courteously, as though in a trance. He
stepped forward, closed the door and took off his coat and hat. He sat
down absently, as if he had returned after only a few hours' absence. He
took no notice of the presence of Senator Blair nor of his hasty exit.
The scene he had interrupted seemed to have no meaning for him. He could
not have told how he reached home, and his one thought was of
Danvers--his supposed Judas--and of the wife who had lived a lie even
while bearing his children.
But Eva could not know this, and strove hurriedly to form some excuse
for her predicament.
Latimer made no response to her explanations. Instead he said, quite
gently: "I'll go and see if little Arthur is asleep. I want to kiss him
good-night," and disappeared through the portieres.
Eva stood motionless, voiceless, in chill terror at her husband's
solicitude for the dead child! Had he forgotten--or was he going mad?
What had happened? What was to happen?
When Latimer returned, his eyes had lost their dazed expression. "My
name is a reproach--it is handed around by coarse gossips!" he said,
hoarsely. His look went beyond accusation.
Eva suddenly sank to her knees in mortal fear. The tones were not loud,
but she never could have believed that those mild, blue eyes would flash
at her such a menace of death.
"Arthur!" she wailed; "what have you heard? Why have you come home like
this? I have not been untrue? Who said so? I have not! I have lied to
you sometimes about little things--but not now!"
The silence was terrible! She began again, miserably: "I've been
helping Mr. Burroughs; but surely that's not--it was for your
advancement--Arthur!--speak to me!" She broke into gasping sobs.
The pale, emaciated face above her never softened; the eyes never
wavered. Yet a reasoning anguish crept into the insane glare. After all,
nothing mattered except this one great pain in his heart. What was it
he wanted to know? Yes--he remembered! The truth!--the truth!
"And Philip Danvers?"
The change in tone gave so great relief that Eva became hysterical, not
understanding the obscure connection.
"Oh, Senator Danvers? He has had nothing to do with the lobbying. You
know he is against Mr. Burroughs." She rose, again self-possessed,
feeling herself able to explain all untoward circumstances.
"Come, you are worn from your journey. Lie here on the couch and I'll
get you some wine."
But her husband resisted, dumbly, looking at her as a starving dog might
look at the hand that had enticed him by pretending to offer food. Words
came, at last, while he beat his hands together in agony.
"I cannot bear it--I cannot! They said you and Phil had an affair in the
Whoop Up Country----"
"What are you saying?" came from Eva, sharply. She went from fear to
fury. "You've been listening to some malicious gossip," she screamed;
"and now you come home to frighten me into spasms!" The rage covered her
fright. "There's not a word of truth in it!"
"Tell me the truth!" The God on high could not have been more
mandatory.
The woman dared not lie again. Her anger, rather than her self-respect,
brought the truth like a charge of dynamite from the muddy waters of her
soul.
"Well, then, it _is_ the truth! I was engaged to Philip Danvers at Fort
Macleod. I threw him over afterwards, because he had no money and you
had. Now are you satisfied?" The cruel desire to hurt gave this added
thrust. "No? Then let me tell you that I have never loved you, never!
I've always loved Philip Danvers--always--always--always!" Her voice
rose in crescendo.
At last it was spoken. Eva stood at bay, her jewels glittering on bare
shoulders and arms as balefully as her eyes flashed hate.
"God!" Latimer reeled, and put his hand on his heart, but recovered
himself. "And Philip"--the words came in a chill whisper--"did he
love--you?"
"You'd better ask him!" Eva was wholly beside herself, in the reaction
of a weak woman's fear.
"Phil--my friend!" he choked, started and winced, putting his hand again
over his heart; then fell heavily.
The woman screamed in fright and knelt beside him.
"Arthur, he never cared--after I dismissed him. He despised me. He
despises me now--more than you ever can. Oh, God in heaven! What have I
done?" Remorse followed swiftly on her anger.
Latimer was conscious as his wife raised his head. He had understood her
confession, and although he could not speak he motioned for her to seek
assistance; but the effort was too much, and he again sank back,
moaning.
Eva laid him gently down, and flew to the door. As she opened it she
fell against Danvers, coming from Winifred's side.
"You've killed him, at last!" Philip flayed her with word and look as
she sped for other help; but he forgot her as he knelt and raised
Latimer's head to his knee. He would have carried him to a couch, but
Arthur motioned that he could not endure that pain. The look of trust
that greeted Danvers was returned with one of love and fidelity.
With a sigh of utter content Latimer, by a supreme effort, raised his
hands to Philip's shoulders.
"Arthur!" Danvers groaned, holding him close as he looked into the
glazing eyes.
"Did I doubt you?" whispered the judge. "Forgive me--my
dear--friend--Phil!"
[Illustration]