“Just as I was leaving I met a messenger-boy with these returns. I
opened the envelope.”
Douglas Briggs started. Farley’s cheerful and businesslike voice had
given him a sensation of alarm.
“Oh, is that you, Farley?” he said. “All right,” he went on, vaguely.
Then he glanced at the yellow paper in Farley’s hand. “What does it
say?”
“The returns that we received over the wire from the Ninth District
were wrong. They got mixed down at the _Gazette_ office.”
“How was that?” Briggs’s voice showed that he was still bewildered.
“The majority of 235 was not for you.”
The full significance of the remark slowly made its way into Douglas
Briggs’s mind. “Ah!” He shrugged his shoulders. “That’s a bad sign,
isn’t it?”
“Very bad. I knew they’d been spending money up there.”
Briggs sat back in his chair. He had recovered himself now. “Well, they
would have spent more than we could; so, perhaps, it’s just as well
that we didn’t spend any.”
Farley looked thoughtful. “I think I’ll let those fellows rip,” he
said, slowly. “I’ll stay here and watch out for developments.”
“Don’t do it, Farley,” said Briggs, wearily. “It isn’t worth while.”
Farley looked astonished. “Not worth while?” he repeated.
“No. I don’t care whether I’m licked or not. In fact, I think I’d
rather be licked.”
Farley looked sharply at Briggs. “You’re tired out, I guess,” he said.
“Yes, I’m mentally, physically, morally exhausted,” Briggs replied,
passing his hand across his eyes. “Nothing seems worth while to me--not
even success. Strange, isn’t it? I’ve staked everything on this
election to-night, and if I’m beaten, my political career is done for.
And yet I don’t care.”
“But you won’t be beaten,” Farley insisted, with a laugh.
Briggs made a gesture of impatience. “Don’t be too sure of that.
To tell the truth, Farley, I’ve felt all along that the fight was
hopeless. But I’ve tried to keep a stiff upper lip. I didn’t want you
fellows to know how discouraged I was. Look here, Farley, I’m sick of
this. If I’m snowed under, I’ll only get what I deserve.”
“You’re pretty tired, Congressman,” said Farley, with anxiety in his
face. He had seen men break down before under the strain of a political
campaign.
“When a man has to go through life without any self-respect he’s apt to
get pretty tired of himself. And when he has a wife who knows what he
is!” Briggs threw back his head and laughed. “God! I suppose there are
thousands of men right here in New York who are like that. Their wives
know they’re blackguards, and they know they know it!”
The two men sat in silence. The look of worry was deepening in Farley’s
face.
“Farley,” Briggs suddenly asked, “how old are you?”
“Thirty-five.”
“How does it happen that you aren’t married?”
Farley smiled and flushed. “Oh, I’ve had other things to think of,” he
said, evasively.
Douglas Briggs looked at him for a moment. “Do you mean that you’ve
never been in love?”
“No, I didn’t mean that,” Farley replied, walking to the desk and
looking down at some papers, with both hands resting on the edge.
“Then you have been?”
Farley did not stir. “Yes,” he replied.
“Seriously?”
Farley nodded.
“What was the matter?”
Farley flushed again, and smiled faintly. “I couldn’t get her!”
“Someone else?”
“H’m, m’m.”
Briggs looked at Farley for a long time. “And she knows about it?” he
asked, gently.
“I think so. I don’t know,” said Farley, turning away and leaning
against the desk with his back toward Briggs.
For several moments neither spoke. They heard the clock tick.
“I suppose there is some sort of justice in this world,” Briggs
remarked, with a sigh, “but it’s pretty hard to see it sometimes.”
“I’ve thought of that myself,” Farley replied, dryly.
“But I’m beginning to find out one thing, Farley. The Almighty often
likes to give us what we deserve by letting us have the things we want.”
“Sometimes He gives us more than we deserve,” said Farley, in a low
voice.
“Well, if a man gets it in the neck, it’s something to be able to stand
up against it. And no matter how much you’ve had to take, Farley, you
can have the satisfaction of knowing what you are.”
“That’s a pretty poor satisfaction,” Farley replied, with a laugh.
“Perhaps you’ll care more about it when I tell you what it has done for
me. There are two people who have completely changed my views of life
lately. One is my wife. You are the other one.”
Farley looked up for the first time during the talk. “I?” he said, in
surprise.
Briggs nodded. “Till I began to know you, I didn’t believe that there
were men in the world like you. I had always acted from selfish motives
and I supposed that everyone did.”
“Oh, no,” Farley protested.
Briggs lifted his hand. “Don’t contradict me. I know what I’m talking
about. You think all those reform measures I worked so hard for last
year--you think they were unselfish. Well, so they were, in one
respect: I didn’t get any money out of them. But they were really
selfish. I backed them--well, I suppose because I wanted to live up to
the good opinion my wife had of me, and I wanted to justify myself for
other things I had done.” Briggs rose from the chair and met Farley’s
startled look. “Would you like to know why I say these things to you?
It’s simply because I can’t stand playing a part any longer. I’m a
blackguard, Farley. I’m as vile as any of those fellows in Washington
you’ve been fighting against for years. All that woman said in her
article is practically true.”
“What?” Farley exclaimed, incredulously.
“I was hand in glove with that fellow West till I discovered that he
had been making love to Mrs. Briggs. If I hadn’t found him out, I
shouldn’t have had the moral courage to throw him over. Go and tell
that, if you like, to your friends at the Citizens’ Club.”
“Oh, this is impossible!” said Farley, with distress in his eyes.
“I don’t wonder you think so,” Briggs replied, smiling faintly. For
several moments they stood without speaking. Farley showed in his face
that he was running rapidly over everything in the past. The puzzled
expression gave place to a look of disappointment and pain.
“Does Mrs. Briggs know of this?” he asked.
“Yes.”
“And she--?” He stopped.
“I don’t wonder that you can’t say it, Farley. No, she hasn’t forgiven
me. She never will. Now what do you propose to do about it?”
Farley did not stir. His face grew pale. “Nothing,” he said at last.
“Of course, I can’t expect to have your confidence again,” Briggs went
on, in a low voice.
“Why not? It seems to me you have a greater claim on it now than ever.”
“Do you mean to say that you can have any respect for me after what
I’ve told you?” Briggs asked.
“I know enough about public life to realize what the temptation must
have been. And then, I can’t see what you’ve gained by it.”
Douglas Briggs lowered his head. “Thank you, Farley.” After a moment,
he said: “And are you doing all this for my sake or for--?”
Farley turned away with a smile. “Well, partly for your sake,” he
replied.
At that moment Fanny darted into the room, followed by Guy. “It’s all
ready, Uncle Doug!”
“What is?”
“Why, the supper. I got it all up myself--the loveliest scrambled eggs,
with tomatoes and some chicken salad and coffee and--well, you’ll see.
Now please go down.”
“All right. You’re a good girl, Fanny. But I must have told you that
before.”
Farley left the room with Briggs. “I’ll take a cab down to the club,”
he said in the hall.
“And tell them just as much as you like,” Briggs remarked.
“Trust me for that,” said Farley.