DUBIOUS PROSPECTS.
“The _Chronicle_ office blown up!” exclaimed Hawley, staring at his
cellmate in horrified astonishment. “Who could have done it, Fred?”
“I don’t know who did it,” the proprietor of the _Bulletin_ answered,
with a scowl, applying his handkerchief to the deep cut in his scalp
which Chief Hodgins had inflicted with the butt of his revolver. “I only
know that I didn’t have anything to do with the outrage.”
“Of course you didn’t, old man,” said the Camera Chap soothingly. “I
know you too well to believe you capable of anything like that. What
grounds have they for trying to put it up to you?”
Carroll laughed grimly. “Oh, they claim to have plenty of
evidence--enough to send me to the chair, if old Gale dies. Hodgins told
me that the box in which the infernal machine was inclosed has been
identified as a box which was previously in my possession. He claims,
too, that they have the wrapper of the package, and that the address is
in my handwriting. If they can prove these things, they’ve got a strong
case against me.”
“_If_ they can prove them!” exclaimed Hawley, with a confident laugh.
“But of course there’s no danger of that. The whole thing is a palpable
frame-up.”
“There’s no doubt about its being a frame-up,” said Carroll; “but I’m
not so sure that it’s palpable. Hodgins is an expert at manufacturing
evidence, and if he’s careful not to make any breaks, he’ll probably be
able to convince a jury that he’s got the goods on me. You see, Frank,
there’s the question of motive to be considered. I’m afraid they’ve got
me there.”
“Motive?” the Camera Chap repeated, with an interrogative inflection.
“Certainly. Everybody in Oldham is aware of the enmity which existed
between myself and the Gales. Isn’t it only natural that I should be the
first person suspected of sending that infernal machine?”
“Not at all,” Hawley protested indignantly. “You are illogical at your
own expense, Fred. Even assuming that you could be coward enough to have
done such a thing--which, of course, is quite out of the question, old
man--what logical reason could you have had for resorting to such
desperate tactics? You were winning. Everything was going your way. You
had no cause to use violence.”
Carroll brightened up a trifle at this argument. “I suppose there’s
something in that,” he agreed, once more dabbing with his handkerchief
at the gash on his temple.
“By the way, old man,” said Hawley, noticing this act; “you haven’t told
me yet how you came by that cut and battered countenance. You weren’t in
the Chronicle Building when the explosion took place, were you?”
“Not exactly,” Carroll answered, with a sheepish grin. “I received these
wounds in the Bulletin Building. When Hodgins and his men came and told
me that they wanted me for sending that bomb, I--well, I’m afraid I lost
my temper for a little while.”
Hawley shook his head disapprovingly. “That was foolish of you, old man.
I gave you credit for possessing more poise. What will the citizens of
Oldham say when they learn that the man who is to be their next mayor
was so lawless as to resist arrest?”
Carroll laughed bitterly. “Don’t deceive yourself about any strong
chance of my being Oldham’s next mayor. That’s out of the question now.
Even if I’m fortunate enough to be able to clear myself of this charge
in court, I’ll have a hard job convincing the public that I didn’t send
that bomb to the _Chronicle_ office. You ought to have seen how the
crowds on the streets acted when I was being brought here. Their
attitude was so ugly that I was afraid they were going to take me away
from the police and string me to a lamp-post. The people of this town
are always willing to believe the worst of a man. You never saw such a
community of backbiters. I guess this arrest means the finish of my
political aspirations.”
“Nonsense!” Hawley returned reassuringly. “Don’t worry about that, Fred.
The public may be inclined to suspect you at first, but we’ll soon swing
them around to our side again. We’re going to put you in the mayor’s
chair, old man, in spite of this little trouble.”
“We?” exclaimed Carroll pointedly. “Good heavens, man, you don’t seem to
realize your own position at all!” He laid his hand sympathetically upon
his friend’s shoulder. “Poor old chap! There’s precious little you’ll be
able to do between now and election. Even if I do manage to get out of
this mess, your goose is cooked for sure. There isn’t any doubt that
they’ll send you to jail for six months for taking pictures without a
license. They’ve got a clear case against you, and I can’t see how
you’re going to get out of it.”
The Camera Chap smiled. “Yes, I must admit that it does look very much
as if I’m slated to spend the next six months in practicing the gentle
art of converting large stones into little ones. You are wrong in
supposing that I don’t realize the position I’m in, Fred.”
“Then how the deuce can you be so cheerful?” Carroll demanded. “By
jinks, Frank, you’re the most unselfish fellow I’ve ever met! Here you
are worrying about me, and trying to cheer me up, when you have plenty
of cause to be brooding over your own impending fate.”
Hawley shrugged his shoulders. “What’s the use of brooding? I’ve never
seen anybody get any farther by doing that. Besides, I’m not absolutely
positive that I’m going to jail. I’ve still got a faint ray of hope.”
“What is it?” Carroll inquired eagerly.
“The New York _Sentinel_,” the Camera Chap replied. “If I can get word
to Tom Paxton, I haven’t any doubt he’ll come to my rescue with bells
on. The good old _Sentinel_ stands by its men through thick and thin,
and, although I don’t quite see how he’s going to work it, I am hopeful
that Tom Paxton will find some way of saving me from jail.
“The trouble is, though,” he added, “how the deuce am I going to get
word to him? Hodgins isn’t going to let me get in touch with my friends,
if he can help it.”
“But he wouldn’t dare do that,” Carroll protested indignantly. “It is
illegal. It is your constitutional right to confer----”
“Pshaw! A little thing like a prisoner’s constitutional rights doesn’t
bother our friend Hodgins,” the Camera Chap interrupted. “Besides, it is
a condition and not a theory which confronts us. I asked the turnkey to
let me send a telegram from here, and was curtly refused. The man told
me that he had orders not to let me communicate with any one. They
wouldn’t even let me send word of my arrest to you. Still, I am
confident that I’ll be able to find some way of getting a C. Q. D. call
to the _Sentinel_.”
“You don’t have to worry about that,” Carroll assured him. “Word has
already been sent to the _Sentinel_. I guess by this time, Frank, Paxton
is aware of your predicament.”
“Why, what do you mean?” Hawley demanded eagerly.
“I mean that as soon as I heard of your arrest, old man, I took the
liberty of wiring to Paxton, advising him of the situation,” Carroll
explained.
“And you took that step without waiting to consult with me?” It seemed
to Carroll that there was a trace of resentment in the Camera Chap’s
tone.
“Yes; I remembered how you used to hate to appeal to the paper when you
were in difficulties in the days when I was on the _Sentinel_ staff. I
was afraid that you wouldn’t hear of letting Paxton know of your plight,
so I decided to go ahead on my own hook. Hope you’re not mad with me for
doing so, old man?”
“Mad with you? I should say not, indeed,” Hawley replied, with a joyous
laugh. “I am mighty glad that you sent that telegram, Fred. Generally,
as you say, I don’t like to bother the paper when I’m in trouble; but
this is one of the times when I can’t get along without the _Sentinel’s_
help.”