A SAD FAREWELL.
The young politician took his medicine with a stoicism worthy of a
better cause. There was actually a broad grin on his beefy face as he
heard the judge utter the words which condemned him to several years
behind prison bars. But it was not wholly stoicism. His attitude was
partly due to the fact that even at that desperate stage of the game he
had not quite lost faith in the power of his master and mentor to aid
him.
“I won’t be in the jug long,” he declared confidently to the deputy
sheriff who led him, shackled, out of the courtroom. “Boss Coggswell
will get me out. His pull will win me a pardon, all right. So long as
he’s my friend I’m not worryin’. And not only will he get me free,” he
added, a glint coming into his beady eyes, “but you can bet he’ll make
it hot for everybody that’s had a hand in sending me up. That judge’ll
get his for handing me such a stiff sentence; the district attorney will
be made to regret that he wouldn’t let up when the boss gave him the
hint; and as for that big stiff of a Sheridan--well, I’m willing to bet
a thousand to a hundred that he won’t be holding that inspector’s job
very long. They’ll all be made to feel that it ain’t healthy to defy a
man like Samuel J. Coggswell.”
Just as the train which was to carry him off to prison was about to pull
out of the station, Jake received a visit from the man in whom he had
such faith. Coggswell rarely yielded to sentiment when it was against
his interest to do so, but in this instance, although he realized that
he could ill afford to be seen shaking hands with the convicted man, he
decided that the latter’s loyalty in refusing to “squeal” was deserving
of this tribute; so he was there to say farewell to his faithful
henchman.
“I need scarcely say,” he explained unctuously to the group of newspaper
men who were on the platform to see Hines depart, “that there is no man
who condemns and deplores more than I the atrocious crime for which that
wretched young man is about to pay the penalty. Still, I cannot quite
forget the time when poor, misguided Jake Hines was an honest man, who
enjoyed my esteem and friendship. It is in memory of those days,
gentlemen, that I am here now to give him a parting handclasp. Who
knows,” he added, raising his eyes piously toward the ceiling of the
train shed, “but what the lingering recollection of that last touch of
an old friend’s hand may soften his heart and cause his feet to seek
once more the straight and narrow path after he emerges from his gloomy
prison cell?”
Having delivered himself of this worthy sentiment, and noting, with
satisfaction, that several of the scribes were taking it down verbatim,
Mr. Coggswell stepped aboard the train and approached the seat which
contained Jake and the deputy sheriff.
“How do you feel, my boy?” he inquired, in a sympathetic whisper.
“First class, boss,” Hines assured him, with a cheerful grin. “Say, it’s
mighty white of you to come to see me off, but you shouldn’t have done
it. It might cause talk.”
“Let evil tongues wag if they will,” was the sententious response. “You
ought to know me better, Jake, than to think for a moment that I would
consider myself at all in a case like this. I hope, my boy, that you are
accepting this unfortunate situation with philosophy and--er--are still
determined not to talk.”
“Don’t worry, boss,” said Hines, with another grin. “They’re not going
to get a word out of me, even though I have to stay in the jug for the
full term of my sentence. I’m no squealer.”
Hearing which, Coggswell exhaled a sigh of relief, and, as the train was
about to get under way, took a hurried leave of his unfortunate
lieutenant.
“Boss,” Hines said to him wistfully, as they once more clasped hands,
“I’m sorry I won’t be there to help you at the coming primary fight. I’m
afraid you’ll miss me.”
“I’m afraid I shall, Jake,” Coggswell answered, taking care not to speak
above a whisper. “I’m afraid I shall.”
And his ears were not wiggling as he said it.