With great promptitude Attorney Despeaux fastened upon Blanchard, of the
Conawin, the moment the latter left the company of Mayor Morrison on the
arrival of the twain at the Corson mansion; and Mr. Blanchard seemed
alertly willing to break off his companionship with the passenger he had
brought in his limousine.
"What's that bull-headed fool been stirring up down-town?" demanded
Despeaux when he had Blanchard safely to himself in a corner.
"Have you heard something about it?"
"I was called on the 'phone a few minutes ago."
"Who called you?"
"No matter! But hold on, Blanchard! I may as well tell you that I'm using
a part of our fund to have Morrison shadowed. I suppose the reason you
went along was to get a line on him. But it was imprudent. It looked like
lending your countenance."
Blanchard explained sullenly why he did accompany Morrison to the meeting.
"Well, I'm glad you were there and heard him inflaming the mob," admitted
the syndicate's lobbyist and lawyer. "I want to have Senator Corson fully
informed on the point and it will come better from you than from a paid
detective. Give it to Corson, and give it to him strong!"
"I don't know that I can justly say that he was inflaming the mob,"
demurred Blanchard.
"But you've got to say it! You must make it appear that way! Blanchard, it
has come to a clinch and we must smash Morrison's credit in every
direction. I didn't realize till to-day that he is out to blow up the
whole works. Didn't he preach to you on the text of that infernal
people-partner notion of his?"
"Yes! He's crazy!"
"The people own the moon, if you want to put it that way! But they can't
do anything sensible with it, any more than they can with ownership of the
state's water-power."
The Conawin magnate exhibited bewilderment. "Despeaux, I'm a business man.
I suppose you lawyers go to work in a different way than we do in
business. But as I have read the propaganda you're putting out--as I
understand it--_you_ are shouting for the people's rights, too!"
"I am! Strongly! Right out open! I even preached on people's rights to
Morrison this very day--and looked him right in that canny Scotch eye of
his while I preached. I like to keep in good practice!"
"Then why is Morrison so dangerous, if he's only doing what you do?"
inquired the business man, with an artlessness that the attorney greeted
with an oath.
"Because the infernal ramrod means what he says, Blanchard!"
"But if you don't mean it--if you have put yourself on record--and if
you're obliged to step up and honor the draft you've sanctioned--what's
going to happen in the showdown?"
Attorney Despeaux moderated his mordancy and became tolerantly patient in
enlightening the ignorance of one of his employers. "The people are hungry
for some kind of fodder in this water-power proposition. I've been telling
all you power-owners so! We'll have to admit it, Blanchard! The time is
played out when you can drive the people in this country. You've got to be
a nice, kind shepherd and get their confidence and lead 'em. I'm a
shepherd! See?" He patted himself on the breast. "There are two cribs!"
"You'll have to name 'em to me, Despeaux. I'm apt to be pretty dull
outside of matters in my own line."
"I guess I'd do better to designate the chaps who are managing the cribs."
The two men were in a window embrasure. Despeaux pointed to one side of
the niche. "Over there, behold Morrison and his 'storage and power' crowd,
made up of pig-headed engineers and scientific experts who are thinking
only of how much power can be developed for the people as proprietors;
over here, the public utilities commission made up of safe men,
judiciously appointed, tractable in politics, consistently on the side of
vested interests and right on the job to see to it that the state keeps
its contracts with capital. I propose to be something of a shepherd and
lead the people to the public utilities crib! And I'm going to show folks
that they'll be eating poison-ivy out of the Morrison crib--even if I have
to put the poison-ivy in there myself. This is no time to be squeamish,
Blanchard! You've got to do your part in nailing a disturber like Morrison
to the cross. Speak like a business man and say that he is dangerous in
good business. We've got a Governor who is safe; we've got to have a
legislature that will see to it that the committees are all right. And
that's why we're standing no monkey business from any mob up on Capitol
Hill to-night! Down at that hall, so my man told me, Morrison talked as if
he's going to take hold and run the state! Didn't he?"
"Well, one might draw some such conclusions, I suppose, by stretching his
words!"
"Blanchard, you must stretch words when you talk to Senator Corson and to
all others who need to be stirred up and can help us. If that wild
Scotchman butts into this plan he's inviting trouble, and we've got to see
that he gets it. He's got to be choked now or never! Don't have any mercy!
Just look at it this way! Talk it this way! He's turning on his own, if he
does what he threatens! He played the sneak, he, a mill-owner, getting on
to that commission! And he proposes to shove in a report that will smother
development by outside capital. Play up the reason for his interest in the
thing along that line! A hog for himself! It's easy to turn public
sentiment by the right kind of talk! If I really start out to go the limit
I can have him tarred and feathered as a chief conspirator, rigging a
scheme to have our big industries knocked in the head."
Despeaux spoke low, but his tone conveyed the malice and the menace of a
man who had been nursing a grudge for a long time. "Two years ago his
newspaper letters and his rant killed that Consolidated project, and I had
a contingent fee of fifty thousand dollars at stake; as it was, I got only
a little old regular lobby fee and my expense money. And the power hasn't
been developed by the infernal, dear, protected people, has it?" he
sneered. "If the Consolidated folks had been let alone and given their
franchise, we'd now be marketing over our high-tension wires two millions
of horse-power in big centers two or three hundred miles from this state."
"Well, I'm not so awfully strong, myself, for making a mere power station
of our own state, and letting outsiders ship our juice over the border."
"But you ought to be devilish strong against a man who is proposing to
have the state break existing contracts, take back power rights and
franchises and make you simply a lessee of what you already own! You've
got yours! Give the outsiders a show! It's all snarled up together,
Blanchard, and you've got to kill him and his crowd and their whole mushy,
socialistic scheme and eliminate him from the proposition. Then we can go
ahead and do something sensible in this state!" affirmed Mr. Despeaux,
with the lustful ardor of one who foresaw the possibility of eliminating,
also, the hateful word "contingent" in the case of fees.
But Business-man Blanchard was displaying symptoms of worriment.
The lawyer viewed with concern this evidence of backsliding, but his
attention was suddenly diverted from his companion; then Despeaux nudged
Blanchard and directed the latter's gaze by a thumb jerk.
They saw Morrison hurry up the stairs to greet Lana Corson when she
appeared with her house guest. The attorney seemed to be vastly interested
in the scene.
"I don't mean to scare you," went on Despeaux, his manner milder. "I'm not
planning to commit murder or steal a state! It's Morrison right now! He's
the one we're after! This whole thing may be taken care of in another
way--so easily that it may make us smile. I've been keeping my eyes open,
Blanchard--ears, too! Did you see Morrison rush to the Senator's daughter?
A fellow can work himself into a terrible state of worry over the dear,
unprotected people, when he has nothing else better to take up his mind.
But after a Scotchman goes crazy over a girl--well, when the whole of 'em
hold Poet Bobby Burns up as the type of their race, they know what they're
talking about!"
"I can hardly conceive of Morrison being a poet or relishing poetry or the
ways of a poet," returned Blanchard, dryly.
"And he probably has never read a line of it in his whole life," agreed
Despeaux. "But that isn't the point! You may think I've gone off on a
queer tack, all of a sudden, but I know human nature! That girl is back
here with a slick young fellow, and he's the pepper in a certain mess of
Scotch broth that has been heated up all over again, if I'm any guesser.
That girl has been living in Washington, Blanchard. It's a great school!
I've been watching her shake hands. You saw her just now when she shook
with our friend, the mayor. That girl isn't down here on this trip simply
to see whether the care-takers have been looking after the Corson mansion
in good shape," opined the cynical Mr. Despeaux, having excellent personal
reasons to distrust everybody else in the matter of motives.
"That sort of a trick is beneath Senator Corson and his daughter."
"Well," drawled the lawyer, "that all depends how closely he and Silas
Daunt are tied up in a common interest in this water-power question and
other matters. I suspect everybody in this world. I go on that principle.
It eases my mind about slipping something over on the other fellow when I
get the chance. I'm talking out pretty frankly, Blanchard, to a man who
has his money in the syndicate pool, as you have! But I play square with
the crowd I take money from, so long's I'm with 'em. The fee makes me
yours to command, heart and soul! There's something--some one thing--that
can control every man, according to his tastes. Stewart Morrison can be
controlled right now by that black-eyed Corson girl more effectually than
he can by any other person or consideration on God's earth. I've known him
ever since he was a boy--I have watched the thing between 'em--and now
that she's back here where he can see her, be near her, and be worried by
the sight of another fellow trailing her, he'll be doing more thinking
about her than he will about the partner-people, as he calls that dream of
his about something that isn't so! I wish I could know just how sly the
Senator is! I wish I could get a line on what's underneath that girl's
curly topknot," he said, fervently.
Apparently absorbed by that speculation, Lawyer Despeaux again gave close
attention to the tableau on the landing presented by Lana, Mrs. Stanton,
and Morrison.
When Governor North marched up the stairs, said his vociferous say, and
marched down again Despeaux grunted his satisfaction. "That's the talk,
old boy! Show him where he gets off!"
The manner in which Senator Corson handed Morrison over to Silas Daunt
elicited further commendation from the lawyer. "He's being pulled into
camp smoothly and scientifically, Blanchard! The Senator is on to his job,
but did you see Morrison's mug when he had to leave the girl?"
"I'll admit that it's the first time I ever saw him make up a face when he
was called on to tend to business!"
"The Senator is a wise old bird! He knows human nature down to the ground.
He's got the right kind of a daughter to help him, and he's making her
useful. It's a case of shutting Morrison's mouth, and Corson is hep to the
right play. I don't think the Senator needs any advice from us, but a
little of the proper kind of information about Morrison's latest
demfoolishness will make Corson understand that he needs to put some hot
pep as well as sugar into his politeness. We'll get to him as soon as we
can. Make it strong, Blanchard, make it strong!"
As soon as opportunity offered, Blanchard did make it strong. He was
harboring a pretty large-sized grudge of his own in the case of Morrison,
and it was easy to put malice into the report he gave the Senator.
"But hold on!" protested Corson. "You're making Stewart out to be a
radical as red as any of them!"
"I can't help that, Senator," retorted the millman. "He dragged me down to
his cursed meeting over my protest and he made a speech that put himself
in hand in glove with 'em."
Corson pursed his lips and displayed the concern of a friend who had heard
bad news regarding a favorite. "I always found the boy a bit inclined to
mix high-flown notions in with the business practicality of his family.
But I didn't realize that he was going so far wrong in his theories.
That's the danger in permitting even one unsound doctrine to get into a
level-headed chap's apple-basket, gentlemen! First thing you know, it has
affected all the fruit. I'm glad you told me. I'm not surprised that your
arguments have had no effect, Despeaux. He's naturally headstrong. Do you
know, these fellows with poetic, chivalrous natures are hard boys to bring
to reason in certain practical matters?"
"I was just telling Despeaux that I never saw much poetry sentiment in
Stewart Morrison," affirmed the millman.
Senator Corson's condescending smile assured Mr. Blanchard that he was all
wrong. "He was much in our family as a boy. Very sentimental if approached
from the right angle! Very! And I think this is a matter to be handled
wholly by Stewart's closest friends. Sentiment has led him off on a wrong
slant. He'll only fight harder if he's tackled by a man like you,
Despeaux. That's the style of him. But in his case sentiment can be guided
by sentiment. And all for his best good! He mustn't run wild in this
folly! I believe there's no one who can approach him with more tact than
my daughter Lana." Despeaux found an opportunity to dig his thumb
suggestively into Blanchard's side. "They have been extremely good
friends, I believe, in boy-and-girl fashion; between us three old
townsmen, I'll go as far as to say they were very much interested in each
other. But in the case of both of 'em their horizons are naturally wider
these days; however, first-love affairs, even if rather silly, are often
the basis for really sensible and enduring friendships. And friendship
must handle this thing. We'll leave it to Lana. I'll speak to her."
He went on his way toward the ballroom, pausing to chat with this or that
group of constituents.
"There!" exclaimed the lawyer, relieving his high pressure by a vigorous
exhalation of breath. "What did I tell you?"
"It's mighty kind and sensible of the Senator! Morrison is making a big
mistake and the way to handle him is by friendship."
"Friendship hell!"
"Say, look here, Despeaux, I don't believe in spoiling my teeth by biting
every coin that's handed to me in this world."
"Are you as devilish green as you pretend to be, Blanchard? If you had
ever hung around in Washington as I have, you'd have wisdom teeth growing
so fast that they'd keep your jaws propped open like a country yap's
unless you kept 'em filed by biting all the coin of con! Now I know what's
in the Senator's dome and what's under his girl's topknot! But let's not
argue about that. Let's take a look at the probabilities in regard to the
water-power matter--that's of more importance just now. I doubt that even
friendship"--he dwelt satirically on the word--"can shut Morrison up on
the storage report that he will shove into the legislature. But we're
going to have safe committees this year, thanks to the election laws and
guns, and that report will be pocketed. Then if Morrison keeps still about
making the dear people millionaires by having 'em peddle their puddles to
the highest bidders, capital can go ahead and do business in this state. I
think his mouth is going to be effectively shut! The right operators are
on the job!"
Despeaux took a peep at his watch.
"Time slipped by while we were waiting to get at Corson. Daunt has had
half an hour for laying down the law to Morrison. And Daunt can do a whole
lot of business in half an hour."
"He'll only stir up Morrison's infernal scrapping spirit by laying down
the law," objected Blanchard, sourly.
Despeaux took both of the millman's coat lapels in his clutch. "He'll lay
down in front of Morrison the prospect of the profits to be made by the
deal that is proposed. And if you had ever heard Silas Daunt talk profits
as a promoter you would reckon just as I'm reckoning, Blanchard--to see
our Scotch friend come out of that conference walking like the man who
broke the bank at Monte Carlo, instead of bobbing around astraddle of that
damnation hobby-goat of his! Daunt can talk money in the same tone that a
Holy Roller revivalist talks religion, Blanchard! And he makes converts,
he sure does!"
A moment later the mayor of Marion strode across the reception-hall.
Lawyer Despeaux, giving critical attention, was not ready to affirm that
Morrison's gait was that of a man who had broken a bank. But the manner in
which he marched, shoulders back and chin up, and the dabs of color on his
cheeks, would have suggested to a particularly observant person that the
mayor had broken something. He pushed past those who addressed him and
went on toward the ballroom, staring straight ahead; the music was pulsing
in the ballroom; he seemed to be thoroughly entranced by the strains; at
any rate, he was attending strictly to the business of going somewhere! He
passed Senator Corson, who was returning to the reception-hall; the mayor
gave his host only a nod.
While the Senator stood and gazed at the precipitate young man, Banker
Daunt, following on Morrison's trail, arrived in front of Corson.
Lawyer Despeaux stepped from the window embrasure to get a good view and
was not at all reassured by Daunt's looks. The banker displayed none of
the symptoms of a victor. There was more of choler than complacency in his
air. He hooked his arm inside the Senator's elbow and they went away
together.
"Blanchard," said the lawyer, after a period of pondering, "that infernal
Scotch idiot says that he isn't interested in politics and now he seems to
have put promoting in the same class. Our hope is that he's interested in
something else. Suppose we stroll along and see just how much interested
he is."
By the time they reached the ballroom Morrison was waltzing with Lana.
He was distinctly another person from that tense, saturnine, defiant,
brusk person who strode through the reception-hall. He was radiantly and
boyishly happy. He was clasping the girl tenderly. He directed her steps
in a small circle outside the throng of dancers, and waltzed as slowly as
the tempo would allow. He was talking earnestly.
"Look at him! There you have it!" whispered Despeaux, recovering his
confidence. "Every man has his price--but it's a mistake to think that the
price must always be counted down in cash. Daunt didn't act as if he had
captured our friend. He's dancing to a girl's tune now. Corson will
whistle a jig when he gets ready and Morrison will dance to that tune,
too!"