A Political Trick
The campaign was a furious one after that. The women, instead of leaving
the management of things to men, were stirred to wonderful activity.
They worked, not only among the men of their own acquaintance, but among
the working-people; they held meetings in factories at noon, or in
school-rooms or cheap halls at night in the districts where the
factory-hands lived. They spoke at mass-meetings and rallies, and if
they did not appear in torchlight processions, they saw that many
banners were carried in them, bearing the women's motto and legend. It
was a hard fight, but a good one, and the cause of womanhood as well as
of good government was advanced by it.
When Sam Watts, for instance, with his pockets well-lined, went down
into the district where lived the employees of the Roma Ice Company, he
did not find it so easy to disburse that money as he had expected.
"No," said one man, "I can't forget that Miss Van Deusen's been good to
me and mine."
"O, she is the Roma Ice Company, of course," returned Watts. "That is
one of her assets; but you people are being ground down to hard labor
every day to keep her in luxury--don't you see that?"
"I see," answered the man, "that she is almost the only employer I know
who takes a personal interest in us."
"Yes, when votes are to be counted," sneered Watts.
"Listen," said the man. "Two years ago, when the strike was on, and
there was a good deal of hard times around, she came right down among us
and helped. She didn't sit down at home and let us take the consequences
of the strike (no, I never was in favor of it. I only went out with the
rest because I had to.) And she didn't send us a check as if we were
just objects of charity. She came right down into the tenements and
talked with our women-folks. She found out what they needed and provided
it when it was necessary. She sat up all night with the sick baby of one
of the strike leaders. My! but he was a shamed man the next day! And my
own woman, why, man alive! when she had her baby and we'd no money at
all, Gertrude Van Deusen sent a nurse and a doctor and paid for 'em; but
more than that, she came down and stood by my wife (who was once a maid
of hers), all through it. Do you suppose we are going back on a woman
like that? No sirree! The votes of the Roma Ice Company are hers--to a
man."
So it was that while the politicians were declaiming against her as a
cold-blooded aristocrat, there were poor people all over the city who
had some tale to tell of kindness done in secret, either by her or her
father.
Towards the last of the campaign, a demand grew for a joint debate. Miss
Van Deusen had appeared on the platform many times, and defined her
attitude on public issues in Roma quite clearly. John Allingham had done
the same, for he had a good following of the business men of the city,
while the demagogues made a formidable showing for their candidate,
Barnaby Burke. There was a growing feeling that there must be a fusion
of the woman's ticket with the Allingham forces, but the former would
not withdraw their candidate, and Allingham having put his hand to the
municipal plough would not take it away.
Consequently, both sides agreed to a joint debate to be held at a great
mass meeting the Monday evening before the election Tuesday. This was
not without opposition from within each party, and there were some who
hinted darkly that it might not come off.
All through the Monday preceding the debate Gertrude Van Deusen worked
in her library, to prepare her speech for the evening. She had become
familiar enough with her own voice so that she spoke easily and well to
audiences of all sizes and degrees of intelligence, but this evening was
to witness a trial of strength, a matching of wits which put her on her
mettle. For John Allingham was a fine speaker, with a magnetic presence,
clear logic, and a control of his audience that made him a powerful
opponent, and Gertrude Van Deusen, although she would have died rather
than own it, trembled secretly at the coming contest.
At six she ate her dinner with as much calmness as was possible under
the circumstances, and proceeded to dress for the evening. She was one
of the women who realize that appearances count with an audience, as
well as words, and she put on her most becoming array. At half-past
seven her maid came up from the door:
"They've sent for you," she announced. "An automobile is at the door."
"Why, I didn't know the committee was going to send for me," said Miss
Van Deusen. "I ordered the carriage for a quarter to eight. Go down and
ask the chauffeur--no, never mind. It's all right, no doubt. I'll go
with him. Call up Thomas and tell him he needn't take the horses out
tonight. But first hand me my fur coat and put on my over-shoes."
The maid obeyed and in five minutes more Gertrude Van Deusen was being
tucked into the electric cab, by a chauffeur well wrapped up and muffled
to his ears. The glass doors were closed tightly, Gertrude
congratulating herself that she was shut away from the cold, clear
January air, and that her horses might stand in their comfortable
stalls. And then they whizzed away.
It was some moments before she noticed that they were going up the
street instead of down it; but immediately she remembered that the city
was repaving one of the streets between her home and the hall where she
was to appear, and since they were evidently going to take the "longer
way around" she settled back in her seat and began, once more, to
rehearse the carefully-prepared speech for the evening. She had gone
nearly through with it when she noticed that the streets, instead of
being more thickly settled as they approached her intended destination,
were wider, with scattered residences along the way; and that they were
going at a rapid pace, over the smooth ground. It was a bright moonlit
night, and there was a clear sky twinkling with stars. The onrush of the
cab made no impression of a wind against her cheek, because she was so
well shut away from the outside world, but through the glass windows she
noted the beautiful, quiet night, and saw that they were fast leaving
the city behind and gliding into the country.
Through the glass she could see the chauffeur sitting, almost immovable,
intent upon his machine, and turning neither to the right or left, and a
feeling of terror seized upon her as she realized that she was being
carried away she knew not where, and that she was quite alone and
helpless. She called to the chauffeur, but he paid no attention whatever
to her cries. She shook the doors to her cab-prison, but she could not
open them; she rapped on the glass front close to the driver's ears, but
for all the notice he took of her she might have been a moth fluttering
in the background of the night. And all the time they were rushing on,
on, on, into the great calm of the moonlit night, beyond the glare of
electric lights, beyond the suburban dwellings, beyond the cheerful
farmhouses, and into the wooded roads which she recognized as belonging
to a neighboring town, at least fifteen miles from Roma. She called
again and again; she pounded the glass-front with the silver top of her
purse--the only thing in her possession which could make a noise, but
still the chauffeur sat motionless as if he were entirely alone. She
rose in her seat and called to the driver of a team as they passed it;
she tried to get the attention of a solitary foot-passenger, but the car
flew too fast, and if the men saw her she was out of their reach before
they could answer.
Then she settled back, exhausted. She realized now, that she was the
victim of some trick of the opposition party. She looked at her watch. A
quarter of nine. By now she should have made her speech. John Allingham
was having everything his own way now, beyond a doubt. Possibly--probably,
he was behind this attempt to kidnap her--afraid to meet a woman on a
public platform; for that was it, disguise the thing as they might by
saying he would not debate with a woman. Contemptible!
And still they flew on into the shining, moonlight night, out from the
fine old wood road, along the river-way, miles and miles away.
If they were unwilling to match wits with a woman, why did they not say
so? Why condescend to kidnaping a woman and running away with her from
the fight? If this was the kind of a man John Allingham was--
They were turning into a cross-road now which led up-hill into another
strip of wood. Shadows of tall pines and oak trees made it like a solemn
temple, into the arched aisles of which they seemed to be entering.
Gertrude did not see, and apparently the motionless automaton before her
did not, that other machine gliding on in the shadowy road above and
toward them. There was a jar and a crash and they all came down
together.
Gertrude Van Deusen, inside her prison, was not hurt, but at last, her
chauffeur was shaken out of his stoicism. Extricating himself from the
wreck, he hurried to unfasten the door which was uppermost.
"Are you hurt?" he asked, speaking for the first time in twenty-two
miles.
"I don't know. I think not. But let me out," she answered.
He drew her out and she was soon on the ground again. There was a groan.
"Who is that? There is a man hurt somewhere. We must get him out;" she
said. "Hurry."
By this time the driver of the other machine had crawled out and was on
his feet.
"It's Allingham," he said, in a tone of horror. "He's under the gear--"
"Then get him out--quick," cried Gertrude.
Her coolness and quickness of wit stimulated the two men and they set
about releasing the imprisoned sufferer. But it was Gertrude Van Deusen
who directed them and drew him out from under the wrecked machine, as
the two chauffeurs lifted the weight above him.
It was John Allingham--quite unconscious.