SITTING IN FOR THE DEAL
On the second floor of the hotel Thelismer Thornton was pacing the
corridor, hands behind his back, puffing his cigar. He was paying no
heed to the men who were streaming past him in both directions, going
and coming from the rooms of the candidates. Everett and Spinney were in
their suites, extending hospitality with questionable cigars and
ice-water.
Delegates were flocking up from the hotel bar in squads. They were
meeting other delegates, forming new combinations which offered fresh
opportunities for "setting 'em up," and after paying their respects were
hustling back downstairs again to interview the gentlemen in white
jackets.
Out from open transoms over the doors of sleeping-rooms floated cigar
smoke and voices. There were boys running with ice-water and glasses to
the noisiest rooms. From some of these rooms the familiar bacchanalian
songs were resounding even at that early hour of the evening. The chorus
of "We're here because we're here" mingled with the words of that
reminiscent old carol, "When we fit with Gineral Grant, by gosh."
The Duke, towering, abstracted, swaying along ponderously, close to the
wall of the corridor, eyes on the head of the stairway, was as
indifferent to the uproar as he was to those who passed.
A man who was somewhat flushed and a bit uncertain in his gait came out
of the State Committee headquarters. He planted himself in front of
Thornton.
"Thelismer," he said, familiarly, "I've been trying to get something out
of Luke. He won't say. Now what do you know about it? Is the party going
to be honest? Are we going to get that resubmission plank in the
platform this year?"
"They haven't asked me to write the platform, Phon."
"I tell you, the people want a chance to vote on this prohibitory
question. It's been stuck into our constitution where the people can't
get at it. I ain't arguing high license, but I tell you the people want
a chance to vote on the question, and the Democrats are going to offer
'em a chance."
"That's a Democratic privilege," said the Duke, calmly, preparing to
push past his interlocutor. "The Republican party stands for
prohibition, and hasn't had any trouble in rounding up the votes for the
last twenty-five years."
But the disputant caught hold of him when he started away.
"Look here, Thelismer, you ain't so much of a hypocrite as the most of
'em. Why don't you help us make a break in this thing? Damn it, let's be
decent about it! Rum enough running in that bar-room downstairs to drive
the turbine-wheel in my woollen-mill! Half the delegates to this
convention with a drink aboard, and a third of 'em pretty well slewed! I
am myself. But I'm honest about it. They're drinking rum in about every
room in this hotel. And they're going into convention to-morrow and nail
that prohibitory plank into the platform with spikes. By Judas, I'm
honest in my _business_; now I want to have a chance to be honest in my
_politics_!"
The Duke gazed down on him good-humoredly. He was accustomed to
overlook the little delinquencies of his fellows on such festal
occasions as State Conventions.
"You're asking too much out of party politics, Phon," he declared.
"There are drawbacks to all the best things; seeing that the National
platform won't let you vote as you think, you can hardly ask the State
platform to be perfect and let you vote as you drink."
But his friend was not in the mood for jovial rallying.
"By the gods, if you old bucks that have been running things ain't going
to give us a show--if we ain't going to get our rights from our own
party--I know what I can do! I can vote the Democratic ticket, and I
know of a lot more that will. You're asleep, you managers!"
"Well, Phon, when you vote as you drink--voting the Democratic
ticket--you'll vote for a popocratic tax on corporations that will make
your woollen-mill look sick. And that's only _one_ thing!"
"I know what I will do," insisted the rebel.
The Duke took him by his two shoulders.
"So do I," he returned. "You'll have a bath, a shave, four hot towels,
and a big bromo-seltzer--all in the morning, and you'll go into the
State Convention and stick by the party, just as you always have done.
But as for to-night--why, Phon, I wouldn't be surprised to see you
pledge yourself to Arba Spinney."
He gayly shoved the man to one side and went on.
"Well, even Fog-horn is getting more votes corralled than you old blind
mules realize!" shouted the other after him. "This party is sick! You're
going to find it out, too!"
"Sick it is, but I reckon here's the doctor," muttered the old man,
hurrying toward the top of the stairs.
General Waymouth had appeared there, Harlan close behind him.
The Duke forestalled those who hastened to greet the veteran. Taking
his arm, he marched him promptly across the corridor and into the rear
room of State Committee headquarters. He locked the door behind them
after Harlan had entered.
"I don't think we're exactly ready for that public reception yet," he
observed with a chuckle, turning from the door. He glanced at the
General, anxious and keen in his scrutiny.
"Vard!" he cried, heartily, noting the resolution in the countenance,
the light in the old soldier's eyes, "you're looking better, here, than
you sounded over the telephone a few hours ago. You're going to
stand--of _course_ you're going to stand!"
"I'll take the nomination, Thelismer--that is, providing you want me to
stand as a candidate who will go into office without a single string
hitched to him."
"I guess the party isn't running into any desperate chances, Vard, with
you in the big chair. Sit down now and take it easy. I'll call Luke in.
After we've had our talk with him, we'll begin to enlarge our circle a
little--it's a pretty close combination up to now."
The porter at the door summoned the chairman of the State Committee.
"The Senator is just in from Washington," he announced, after his
enthusiastic greeting of the General. "I took him right up to Room 40,
where the Committee on Resolutions is at work. He wanted to attend to
that first. Then he'll be down here."
The chairman was referring to the United States Senator who would, by
party custom, preside at the convention next day for the purpose of
tinkering his own fences.
"Is Senator Pownal dictating the platform?" inquired the General, rather
icily.
"He's got a few little ideas of his own he wants to work in," affably
explained the chairman. "Nothing drastic. A little endorsement of some
things he's gunning for. It'll be all safe and sane. We backed those
resubmission fellows out of the room."
"By-the-way, keep a sharp eye out for those chaps, Luke," counselled the
Duke. "I've been hearing around the hotel this evening that they're
going to introduce a resubmission plank from the floor to-morrow."
"I'll rush an early vote in the convention, providing that all
resolutions shall be presented to the Committee on Resolutions without
argument," stated the chairman. "All that foolishness can be killed
right in the committee-room. We've got trouble enough on hand in the
party this year without letting the convention express itself on the
liquor question, even if the split only amounts to a sliver."
He pulled his chair to the table, spread some papers there, and
commanded attention by tapping his eyeglasses on the sheets.
"Here's the programme for the routine: Called to order at ten-thirty by
chairman of State Committee. Call read by secretary. On motion of Davis
Bolton, of Hollis, proceed to effect temporary organization--Senator
Walker Pownal, chairman--and so forth. On motion of Parker Blake, of
Jay, ten minutes' recess declared for county delegations to choose
vice-president, member of State Committee, and member of the Committee
on Resolutions."
As he read on, Harlan opened his eyes as well as his ears. The
convention of the morrow had been blocked out to the last detail. Every
motion that was to be made, every step that was to be taken, had its man
assigned to it--and that man had already been notified and tagged.
Fifteen hundred men, assembled presumably as free and independent agents
to take counsel for the good of the party, were here bound to the
narrowest routine, with programme cut and dried to such an extent that
one who dared to lift his voice to interrupt would be considered an
interloper. And he knew that even then, from what Presson had said, the
little band of the select were formulating the resolutions that the
committee would take in hand as delivered--accepting that platform as
the dictum of the party, and free speech on the convention floor denied.
"Now," said the chairman, at the close, "let's fill in the rest, and
finish this thing now. Spinney's name will be presented by Watson, of
his county, and seconded by three other counties. I'm limiting the
seconding speeches to three. And you know the men Everett has picked
out! Of course, I've left the--the big matter in your own hands,
Thelismer." Presson glanced over his glasses at General Waymouth with a
significant smile. "Have you decided? Are you going to let both the
other candidates be put in nomination before you spring the trap?"
"Sure!" snapped Thornton. "I want that convention to realize how little
good can be said of either of them. By the time that gets through those
fifteen hundred skulls, they'll be in a state of mind to appreciate the
man of the hour!"
General Waymouth was leaning back in his deep chair, his head on the
rest, his eyes upturned to the ceiling, fingers tapping the chair's arm.
He was offering no comment.
"Vard," said the Duke, "we've got to let a few more into the case now.
Overnight is short notice, at that, for a man to get his nominating
speech ready. But we're safe. It won't be the speech that will take that
convention off its feet. It'll be your name--and the fact that you're
willing to stand. Who've you got in mind?"
"No one," replied the General, briefly.
"Any choice?"
"No."
"You're willing to leave it to me?"
"I am."
"Then I'll admit I've picked the men in my mind. One is Linton, that
young lawyer that's been taking the lead in the referendum and the
direct primaries campaigns--both of them devilish poor political
policies; but that doesn't prevent him from being the most eloquent
young chap in the State. And he'll tole along the liberals. We'll need
only one other--that's old Colonel Wadsworth. You see the scheme of that
combination, of course! We don't need any more. The convention will be
off its feet before the old Colonel gets half through his seconding
speech. Linton is a delegate, Luke, and I saw to it that the old Colonel
was fixed out with a proxy after I got here. Now, Harlan, you go out and
hunt up those two gentlemen, and bring them here quietly. They're in the
hotel. Come to the private door, there. You say you haven't suggestions,
Vard?"
"Not now," said the General, not shifting his position. "The time for my
suggestions has not come yet."
Harlan went out into the throng, searching, asking questions. The first
man of whom he made inquiry recognized him as Thelismer Thornton's
grandson, and invited him to the bar to have a drink.
"Busy?" he ejaculated when the young man declined. "H--l, there ain't
any one really busy here to-night, except Senator Pownal and Luke
Presson. They're running the convention. The delegates don't have to do
anything--they are just here for a good time. Come on!"
As Harlan walked away from him, he remembered what Chairman Presson had
just delivered from his papers, and decided that truth often spoke from
the depths of the wine-cup.
He did not find either of his men in the Hon. David Everett's
headquarters. The rooms were packed. Perspiring delegates were edging in
and oozing out. Everett was industriously shaking hands, his rubicund
face sweat-streaked, his voice hoarse after his hours of constant
chatter in that smoke-drenched atmosphere. Harlan stood a moment, and
looked at him with a sort of shamed pity. The plot seemed unworthy, in
spite of its object. The sordid treachery of politics was turned up to
him, all its seamy side displayed.
Two men crowded past him, talking low; but in that press their mouths
were near his ear. They were halted by the jam at the door.
"What did you stab him for--how much?" asked one.
"Got ten," said his companion--"ten on account. I get fifty for the
caucus."
"Too many machine Republicans in my town, and he knows it," said the
other. "The best I could do was fool him out of twenty-five. But that's
doing well--in these times. This Spinney stir has made it cost Everett
more than it has cost any candidate for ten years. I really didn't have
the heart to crowd him for any more. He's been jounced down good and
hard as it is."
Harlan took one more look at the unconscious and fatuous Everett, and
went out of the room. Twenty feet away, as he knew, sat his grandfather,
ready and able to smash the candidate's dreams and chances as a child
bursts a soap-bubble. And the man's money--thrown to the winds when a
word might have held his hand and closed his pocket-book! Harlan,
grandson of Thelismer Thornton, tried to put the thing out of his mind.
"Politics," said a man in the corridor in his hearing, "has got the pelt
off'm second-story work, as they're running the political game in this
State right now. But it's only petty larceny. And that's why the whole
thing makes me sick."
"Me too," said his listener. "You could brag some about a political
safe-blowing, but we all have to turn to and hush up this sneak-thief
work."
Harlan, walking on, wondered whether the coup that was then in process
of elaboration in State Committee headquarters would not be considered
by Everett and his supporters as arising to the proper dignity of
political crime.
To his surprise Spinney's rooms were practically deserted. The candidate
was there, perched on the edge of a table, nursing his knee in his
clasped hands and talking vigorously to a few of his intimates. The
defection was not bothering him, apparently. Harlan promptly understood
why. As he stood for a moment, making sure that neither Linton nor
Wadsworth was there, he heard the mellow blare of distant band music.
Spinney jumped off the table.
"The boys are coming!" cried one of his friends, and stepped out through
the window upon a balcony. "Wait till after I call for the cheers,
Arba!" he called back. "Step out when they strike up _Hail to the
Chief_."
"This will make the Everett bunch sit up and take notice," said a man at
Harlan's elbow. "There'll be a thousand men in line behind that band
when she swings into the square, here! And a Spinney badge on every one
of 'em!"
He was challenged promptly. The corridor was full of Everett men.
"Ten dollars to a drink that your man Spinney pays for the band! And
when a band starts up street you can get every yag, vag, and jag in the
city to trail it! You can't fool doubtful delegates that way, Seth! Go
hang your badges on a hickory limb. They're only good to scare crows.
You can't scare us!"
This speaker heard Harlan making inquiries for his men.
"The Colonel is down in the office," was his information, "over in the
farther corner, behind one of those palms, telling war stories to
Herbert Linton. Just came past 'em."
It seemed a rather happy augury to Harlan; that out of that throng his
two men should have paired themselves struck him as an interesting
coincidence. He found them, and quietly delivered his message.
Colonel Wadsworth stood up, gaunt, straight, twisting his sparse
imperial, and blinking a bit doubtfully at the messenger. But Linton was
not so much at a loss for reasons. He was an earnest young man with
slow, illuminating smile.
"Has the committee seen new light regarding my two planks, Mr.
Thornton?" he asked; and without waiting for answer, he led the way. The
three were admitted at the private door.
United States Senator Pownal was there, evidently newly arrived from the
committee-room.
The band was just coming into the square under their windows.
Its deafening clamor beat in echoes between the high buildings, the mob
was roaring huzzas. The bedlam blocked conversation.
Thelismer Thornton pulled down the windows and twitched the curtains
together.
"Let 'em hoorah," he said. "With Spinney's band on tap, any fellows that
try to listen at our keyholes will be bothered. I'm glad his band is out
there. Now, gentlemen, I have something to say to you."
They listened to him, all standing. Only General Waymouth kept his seat,
his head tipped back, his finger-tips together.
The Duke was brief, but he was cogent and he was emphatic. He explained
what he had done and why he had done it. He was frank and free with that
selected few. He delicately made known the General's reluctance, but
stated in his behalf his willingness to step into the breach at this
eleventh hour for the sake of his party. Then Thornton went first to
Colonel Wadsworth, drew him along to Linton, and told them what their
party asked of them.
Senator Pownal did not wait for this explanation to be finished. He was
the first to reach General Waymouth with congratulations and
endorsement.
"You cannot understand how immensely relieved I am to know this plan,"
he declared. "I have been here only a few hours, but I was just
beginning to realize what the situation had developed into. I hadn't the
proper perspective at Washington. Thornton is right. We're on the edge
of an upheaval in this State; I'm afraid Everett would have plunged us
straight into it."
Thornton had made no mistake in his selection of advocates. Colonel
Wadsworth rushed to the chair of his old commander, and Linton, with a
young man's loyal zeal, followed. The lawyer came back to Harlan, his
eyes shining.
"We've got a _man_ to follow now, Mr. Thornton, not a political effigy
nor a howl on two legs! I was down there hiding myself. I hadn't stomach
for either of the others."
There had been a brief silence outside. Then the band struck up _Hail to
the Chief_, and the uproar broke out once more.
"That's our tune, and they don't know it yet!" cried the Senator, gayly.
"Let's have the benefit of that to spice our little celebration, now and
here!" He started for the window to open it, but General Waymouth put
out his hand and checked him. He had stood up to receive their
handclasps.
"One moment, Senator," he entreated. "I have a word to say for myself
now. You have just come from Room 40. Have they finished drafting the
platform?"
"It's in shape--practically so."
"Will you send for it?"
The Duke nodded to Harlan, and the young man arose. "Tell Wasgatt I want
him to come down here with the resolutions," he directed.
And while he was gone there was no conversation in the parlor. It might
have been because the band was playing too loudly; it might have been
because General Waymouth's visage, grave, stern, almost forbidding,
rather dampened the recent cordiality of the gathering.