The Governor read this letter silently, unmoved, and proceeded with
the other, which was not an original letter, but a carbon copy. It was
addressed to Ougheltree and was signed by Beekman.
"_Dear Sir_," it ran, "I am in receipt of your communication
with reference to the Ilingsworth petition for pardon. I note
everything you say and have considered it carefully. I shall do my
best to decide this case upon its merits, and will advise you of
the result.
"Very truly,
"ELIOT BEEKMAN."
"This letter," said the Governor, handing the letters back and
referring to the carbon copy, "is a copy of my letter to Ougheltree;
the other letter I never saw."
"But isn't it strange," asked the chairman, "that yours is an answer to
the other. Besides, his letter is dated one day, yours the next."
The Governor took the letters again and looked them over still more
carefully. Finally he ordered Phillips to go to his, Beekman's,
private room and fetch Ougheltree's letter of that date.
"This is his letter of that date," returned Phillips, referring to the
one already read.
"Ougheltree did write me a letter of that date, gentlemen," conceded
the Governor, eyeing the other sternly. Whereupon Wilkinson winked
broadly at the committee, and the chairman took notes upon a little
pad. "But this is not the letter."
The chairman smiled.
"It's very strange," he said, meaningly.
The committee returned to the reception-room and took seats round the
table.
"You understand, Governor," said the chairman, "that we are
commissioned to report on these charges. We came here partly to get
evidence, partly to get your statement. You understand that the
Ilingsworth case is the pivot on which this turns."
"I understand that, Mr. Chairman," said the Governor.
"Do you mind telling us just why you pardoned this man Ilingsworth?"
inquired the other.
Leslie leaned forward, drinking in every word. Even the lingering
respect that she had for Beekman was fast leaving her. Her father
had seen to that. Beekman was already sinking beneath the surface.
Wilkinson intended that he should go down into ignominy shunned by all.
Beekman still addressed the men of the committee, but now he looked at
Leslie.
"Everybody knows why I pardoned Ilingsworth," he said. "Ilingsworth
didn't commit the crime."
The chairman poised his pencil.
"So it was a matter not susceptible of proof, wholly within your own
knowledge and the knowledge of no one else?"
"Yes, that is true."
"Come, Leslie," said her father, drawing her away; and turning to
Beekman he eyed him severely, and added "The price must have been big!
Too thin, Governor--that's too thin!"
The next day the _Star_ and the _Reporter_ took up the hue and cry
against him. "Too thin" was the _Star's_ headline, while the _Reporter_
denounced Beekman in scathing language; contended that in pardoning
such a man as Ilingsworth the Governor had deliberately let loose on
the community a murderer and an anarchist; and assured its readers that
in refusing clemency to Wilkinson the Governor had in cowardice yielded
to the popular clamour that someone should be made to suffer for the
iniquitous methods of the great financiers of the present day.
"The present incumbent at Albany is a blot on the escutcheon of the
Empire State," the editorial concluded. "The sooner the blot is wiped
out the better."
The next day public opinion was swinging strongly against the Governor.
And, on his own motion, Beekman was suspended from office until the
charges against him had been tried.
The next day Ougheltree's denial was ridiculed. What is more, the
_Morning Mail_, Ougheltree's paper, did not dare to take up the cudgels
in the Governor's behalf: it could no longer defend a man who was
charged with being implicated with its chief, since to do so would be
to admit its owner's part in the conspiracy. And yet Ougheltree was as
innocent as a new-born babe of having written the incriminating letter.
In short, Beekman was doomed. He had climbed the hill and for an
instant had stood in the glory of the sunlight, only to find himself
suddenly dashed down to the bottom at break-neck pace.
But not even this satisfied Wilkinson. Closeted later with Flomerfelt
in the big house on the Drive he ground his heel into the rug of his
den, exclaiming:
"Never until he wallows in the mud, Flomerfelt, will I let up on him!"
And in all this what of Leslie?
Irrefutable evidence had been presented to her of the Governor's
unworthiness, and little wonder, then, that she had ranged herself
upon her father's side. Nevertheless, there were times when she would
shudder in silence. For out in the future it was certain that one of
three things must happen to her father, and she dreaded any one of
them.