It is never wise to despise an enemy, no matter how humble he may be.
The mouse liberated the enmeshed lion. Jennie Brewster should have been
thankful that circumstances, working in her favour, had rendered her
account of the discoveries she made about the mines unnecessary. She was
saved the bitterness of acknowledged defeat by the cable despatch that
awaited her at Queenstown, telling her not to forward her information.
The letter she received from the editor of the _Argus_ later explained
the cable message. The _Argus_ had obtained from a different source what
purported to be an account of the reports on the mines, and this had
been published. If Jennie's contribution corroborated this article, it
was unnecessary; if it contradicted what had been already published,
then, of course, it was equally unavailable, for the _Argus_ was a paper
that never stultified itself by acknowledging an error. So the editor
sent his correspondent a short cable message to save the expense of a
long and costly despatch that would have been useless when it reached
the _Argus_ office.
Instead, however, of being grateful to the stars that fought so well for
her, Jennie became bitterly resentful against Fleming, and hardly less so
against Miss Longworth. If it had not been for the meddling politician's
interference, Wentworth would never have discovered who she was, and the
whole train of humiliating events that followed would not have taken
place. She would have parted with Wentworth on a friendly basis, at
least. She was forced, reluctantly, to admit to herself that she liked
Wentworth better than any young man she had ever before met; and now that
there was little chance of seeing him again, her regret had become more
and more poignant as time went on. He had told her all his hopes about
the mica-mine before their unfortunate disaster, and had taken her into
his confidence in a way, she felt sure, he had never done with any other
woman. She saw the earnest look in his honest eyes whenever she closed
her own, and this look haunted her day and night, alternating with the
remembrance of that gaze of incredulous reproach with which he regarded
her when he discovered her mission, which was even harder to bear than
the recollection of his confidence and esteem.
And the sting of the situation lay in the fact that it had all been so
useless and unnecessary. She had wounded her friend and humiliated
herself all for nothing! The rapid changes that had taken place in the
newspaper office since she left, had rendered her sacrifices futile, and
while she had buoyed herself up on shipboard by holding that she was
merely doing her duty to her employers, even that consolation had been
made naught by the editor's letter.
Thus it ever is in that kaleidoscopic, gigantic and fascinating lottery,
the modern press. The sensation for which an editor to-day would sell his
soul, is to-morrow worthless. The greatest fool in the office will
sometimes stumble stupidly upon the most important news of the day, while
the cleverest reporter may be baffled in his constant fight against time,
for the paper goes to press at a certain hour, and after that, effort is
useless. The conductor of a great paper is like the driver of a Roman
chariot; he needs a cool head and a strong arm, with a clear eye that
peers into the future, and that pays little heed to the victims of the
whirling scythe-blades at the hub. He may overturn a Government or be
himself thrown, by an unexpected jolt, under the wheels. The fiery steeds
never stop, and when one drops the reins, another grasps them, to be in
turn lost and forgotten in the mad race, wherein never a glance is cast
to the rear. The best brains in the country are called into requisition,
squeezed, and flung aside. With a lavish but indiscriminating hand are
thrown broadcast fame and dishonour, riches and disaster. Unbribable in
the ordinary sense of the word, the press will, for the accumulation of
the smallest coins of the realm, exaggerate a cholera scare and paralyze
the business of a nation; then it will turn on a corrupt Government and
rend it, although millions might be made by taking another course. It is
the terror of scoundrels and the despair of honest men.
Jennie Brewster, in the midst of her unavailing regrets, clenched her
little fist when she thought of Fleming. It is both customary and
consoling to place the blame on other shoulders than our own. Human
nature is such an erring quantity, that usually we can find a scapegoat
among our fellow-beings, who can be made responsible for any misdeeds or
failings which are so much a part of ourselves that they escape
recognition. If Fleming had only attended his own business, as a man
should, Wentworth would never have known that Jennie wrote for the
_Argus_, and Jennie might have had a friend in London who would have
added that spice of interest to her visit which usually accompanies the
friendship of an agreeable young man for a girl so pretty and
fascinating.
Fleming put up at the hotel that Jennie had at first selected, and now
and then she met him in the extensive halls of the great building; but
she invariably passed him with the dignity of an offended queen, although
the unfortunate man always took off his hat, and once or twice paused as
if about to speak with her.
On the last day of her stay at the hotel, she met Fleming oftener than
ever before; but it did not occur to her that the unhappy politician was
lying in wait for her, never being able to muster up enough courage to
address her when his opportunity came. At last a note was brought up to
the room she occupied, from Fleming, in which he said that he would like
to have a few moments' conversation with her, and would wait for a reply.
'Tell him there is no reply,' said the girl to the messenger.
It is sometimes well to know the point of view, even of an enemy, but
Jenny was too angry with him to think of that. However, a politician, to
be successful, must not be easily rebuffed, and as a rule he is not.
Fleming, when he got the curt reply to his note, threw away his cigar,
put on his hat, took the lift, passed through the long corridor, and
knocked at Jennie's door.
The girl's amazement at seeing her enemy there was so great that the
obvious act of shutting the door in his face did not occur to her until
it was too late, and Fleming had carelessly placed his large foot in the
way of its closing.
'How dare you come here, when I refused to see you?' she cried, with her
eyes ablaze.
'Oh, I understood the messenger to say I might come,' replied the
untruthful politician. 'You see, it's not a personal matter, but the very
biggest sensation that ever went under the ocean on a cable, and I
thought--Well, you know, I felt I had done you--quite unintentionally--a
mean trick on board the _Caloric_ and this was kind of to make up for it,
don't you know.
'You can never repair what you have done.'
'Oh yes, I can, Jennie.'
'I shall be obliged to you if you remember that my name is Miss
Brewster,' said the girl, drawing herself up; but Fleming noticed, with
relief, that since he had mentioned the sensation she had made no motion
to close the door, while the eagerness of the newspaper woman was
gradually replacing the anger with which she had at first regarded him.
'All right, Miss Brewster. I meant no disrespect, you know; and,
honestly, I would rather give you a big item than anybody else.'
'Oh, you're very honest--I know that.'
'Well, I am, you know, Jen--I mean Miss Brewster; although I tell you
it don't pay in politics any more than in the newspaper business.'
'If you only came to speak like that of the newspapers, I don't care to
listen to you.'
'Wait a minute. I don't blame you for being angry----'
'Thank you.'
'But, all the same, if you let this item get away, you'll be sorry. I'm
giving you the straight tip. I could get more gold than you ever saw for
giving this snap away, yet here you're treating me as if I were----'
'A New York politician. Why do you come to me with this valuable piece
of information? Just because you have a great regard for me, I suppose?'
'That's right. That's it exactly.'
'I thought so. Very well. There is a parlour on this floor where we can
talk without being interrupted. Come with me.'
Jennie closed the door and walked down the passage, followed by Fleming,
who smiled with satisfaction at his own tact and shrewdness, as, indeed,
he had every right to do.
In the deserted sitting-room was a writing-table, and Jennie sat down
beside it, motioning Fleming to a chair opposite her.
'Now,' she said, drawing some paper towards her, and taking up a pen,
'what is this important bit of news?'
'Well, before we begin,' replied Fleming, 'I would like to tell you why I
interfered on shipboard and let that Englishman know who you were.'
'Never mind that. Better let it rest.' There was a flash of anger in the
girl's eye, but, in spite of it, Fleming continued. He was a persistent
man.
'But it has some bearing on what I'm going to tell you. When I saw you on
board the _Caloric_, my heart went down into my boots. I thought the game
was up, and that you were after me. I was bound to find out whether the
_Argus_ knew anything of my trip or not, and whether it had put you on my
track. Only five men in New York knew of my journey across, and as a good
deal depended on secrecy, I had to find out in some way whether you were
there for the purpose of--well, you know. So I spoke to the Englishman,
and raised a hornets' nest about my ears; but I soon saw you had no
suspicion of what I was engaged in, otherwise I would have had to
telegraph to certain persons then in London, and scatter them.'
'Dear me! And what villainy were you concocting? Counterfeiting?'
'No; politics. Just as bad, I suppose you think. Now, do you know where
Crupper is?'
'The Boss of New York? I heard before I left that he was at Carlsbad for
his health.'
'He was there,' said Fleming mysteriously; 'but now----'
The politician solemnly pointed downwards with his forefinger.
'What! Dead?' cried Jennie, the ominous motion of Fleming's finger
naturally suggesting what all good people believed to be the arch-thief's
ultimate destination.
'No,' said Fleming, laughing; 'he's in this hotel.'
'Oh!'
'Yes, and Senator Smollet, leader of the Conscientious Party, is here
too, although you don't meet them in the halls as often as you do me.
These good men supposed to be political opponents, are lying low and
saying nothing.'
'I see. And they've had a conference.'
'Exactly. Now, it's like this.' Fleming pulled a sheet of paper towards
him, and drew on it an oval. 'That's New York. We'll call it a
pumpkin-pie, if you like, the material of which it is composed being
typical of the heads of its conscientious citizens. Or a pigeon-pie,
perhaps, for the New Yorker is made to be plucked. Well, look here.'
Fleming drew from a point in the centre several radiating lines. 'That's
what Crupper and Smollet are doing in London. They're dividing the pie
between the two parties.'
'That's very interesting, but how are they going to deliver the pieces?'
'Simple as shelling peas. You see, our great pull is the conscientious
citizen--the voter who wants to vote right, and for a good man. If it
weren't for the good men as candidates and the good men as voters, New
York politics would be a pretty uncertain game. You see, the so-called
respectable element in both parties is our only hope. Each believes in
his party, thinks his crowd is better than the other fellow's, so all you
have to do is to nominate an honest man to represent each party, and then
that divides what they call the reputable vote, and we real politicians
get our man in between the two. That's all there is in New York politics.
Well, Senator Smollet threatened not to put up a good man on the
conscientious ticket, and that would have turned the whole unbribable
vote of both parties against us, so we had to make a deal with him, and
throw in the next Presidential election. Crupper's no hog; he knows when
he's had plenty, and New York's good enough for him. He don't care who
gets the Presidency.'
'And this conference has been held?'
'That's right. It took place in this hotel.'
'The bargain was made, I suppose?'
'It was. The pie was divided.'
'And you didn't get a slice?'
'Oh, I beg your pardon, I did!'
'Then, why do you come to me and tell me all this--if it's true?'
Honest indignation shone in Fleming's face.
'_If_ it's true? Of course it's true. Why do I come to you? Because I
want to be friendly with you, that's why.'
Jennie, nibbling the end of her pen, looked thoughtfully across at him
for a few moments, then slowly shook her head.
'If you get me to believe that, Mr. Fleming, I'll not cable a word. No, I
must have an adequate motive, for I won't cable anything I don't believe
to be absolutely true.'
'I assure you, Jennie----'
'Wait a moment. You say you are promised your share in the new deal, but
it is not as big a slice as what you have now. It stands to reason that,
if Crupper is to divide with Smollet's rascals, each of Crupper's rascals
must content himself with a smaller piece. The greater the number of
thieves, the smaller each portion of booty. You didn't see that when you
left New York, and therefore you were afraid of publicity. You see it
now, and you want a sensational article published, so that Senator
Smollet will be forced to deny it, or further arouse the suspicions of
the honest men in his party. In either case publicity will nullify the
results of the deal, and you will hold the share you have. As you didn't
know any of the regular London representatives of the New York papers,
you couldn't trust them not to tell on you, and so you came to me. Now
that I see a good substantial selfish motive for your action, I am ready
to believe you.'
An expression of dismay at first overspread the countenance of the
politician, but this gave way to a look of undisguised admiration as the
girl went on.
'By Jove, Jennie!' he cried, bringing his fist down on the table when she
had finished; 'you're wasted in the newspaper business; you ought to be a
politician! Say, girl, if you marry me, I'll be President of the United
States yet.'
'Oh no, you wouldn't,' said Jennie, quite unabashed by his handsome, if
excited, proposal. 'No corrupt New York politician will ever be President
of the United States. You have the great honest bulk of the people to
deal with there, and I'm Democrat enough to believe in them when it comes
to big issues, however much you may befog them in small; you can't fool
all people for all time, Mr. Fleming, as a man who was not in little
politics once said. Every now and then the awakened people will get up
and smash you.'
Fleming laughed boisterously.
'That's just it,' he said. 'It's every now and then. If they did it every
year I would have to quit politics. But will you send the particulars of
this meeting to the _Argus_ without giving me away?'
'Yes, I recognise its importance. Now, I want you to give me every
detail--the number of the room they met in, the exact hour, and all that.
What I like to get in a report of a secret meeting is absolute accuracy
in small matters, so that those who were there will know it is not
guesswork. That always takes the backbone out of future denials. I'll
mention your name----'
'Bless my soul, don't do that!'
'I must say you were present.'
'Why?'
'Why? Dear me! you can't be so stupid as not to see that, if your name
is left out, suspicion will at once point to you as the divulger?'
'Yes I suppose that is so.'
'And this man is a ruler in one of the greatest cities in the world! Go
on, Mr. Fleming; who else was there besides Crupper, Smollet, and
yourself?'
The account--two columns and a half--was a bombshell in political New
York the morning it appeared in the _Argus_. Senator Smollet cabled from
Paris that there wasn't a word of truth in it, that he wasn't in London
on the date mentioned, and had never seen Crupper there or elsewhere.
Crupper cabled from Carlsbad that he was ill, and had not been out of
bed for a month. He would sue the _Argus_ for libel, which, by the way,
he never did. The reporters flocked to meet Fleming when his steamer
came in, but of course _he_ knew nothing about it; he had been across
the ocean solely on private business that had no connection with
politics. He knew nothing of Crupper's whereabouts, but he knew _one_
thing, which was that Crupper was too honest and honourable a man to
traffic with the enemy.
Notwithstanding all these denials, the report bore the marks of truth on
its face, and everybody believed it, although many pretended not to. The
division of the spoils aroused the greatest consternation and indignation
among Crupper's own following, and a deputation went over to see the old
man.
Meanwhile, the _Argus_, with much dignity of diction, explained that it
stood for the best interests of the people, and in the people's cause was
fearless. It defied all and sundry to bring libel suits if they wanted
to; it was prepared to battle for the people's rights. And its
circulation went up and up, its many web presses being taxed to their
utmost in supplying the demand. Thus are the truly good rewarded.
A great newspaper is as lavishly generous as a despotic monarch, to those
who serve it well, and the cheque which Jennie cashed when Lady Willow
accompanied her to the City lined her purse with banknotes to a fulness
that receptacle had never known before.
After a few weeks with Lady Willow, Jennie seemed to tire of the
frivolities of society, and even of the sedate company of the good lady
with whom she lived. She announced that she was going to Paris for a week
or two, but, owing to uncertainty of address, her letters were not to be
forwarded. She merely took a hand-bag, leaving the rest of her luggage
with Lady Willow, who was thus sustained by the hope that her paying
guest would soon return.
Jennie took a hansom to Charing Cross, but instead of departing on the
Paris express, she hailed a four-wheeler, and, giving a West End address
to the driver, entered the closed vehicle.