"Good evening, Senator!" Danvers was waiting at the elevator door as Hall stepped through it on the ground floor.
"Good evening, Senator," returned Joe, thinking how little Danvers had changed in appearance since he first came to Fort Benton.
The Senator from Chouteau County took the lift to the third floor. He went to the doctor's room, for he knew that his old friend from Fort Benton, who had but just come to the capital, would be waiting for the evening call and friendly smoke on the first day of his arrival. To-night the younger man was unusually silent, and after the first greetings nearly an hour passed before aword was spoken. But the doctor felt the silence—pregnant with the heart-ache of his friend, and at last he spoke.
"How goes it, Phil?"
"Pretty heavy luggage."
"He'll get it?" No need to be more specific.
"I'm afraid so," soberly. "I never dreamed it could be possible to mow down an Assembly as Burroughs is doing."
"He would sell his soul for the senatorship," affirmed the doctor, "and yet he pretends that he doesn't want the office. He would have people think that he is in mortal fear of being politically ravished, and all the while he, and every man that he can control, are actively engaged in promoting a campaign of ravishment."
"And Bill Moore is his chief procurer," added Danvers.
"But the whole Legislature can't be bought."
"Every one!"
"You include yourself there, Phil," smiled the doctor. "But I know what you mean. It's damnable!" The believer in mankind felt the foundations of the State totter.
"I did not mean to be quite so bitter, but I am sick of the lack of principle that I find in the men sent to Helena. Burroughs has a long string of men who are now scattering their votes, on the pretext that our Republican caucuses do notpledge them clearly to any one candidate. This split in the party is bad for Burroughs, of course, and he is not only trying to get my men away from the Governor, but is angling for members of the Democratic party." After a moment he smiled. "Of course we are sure of O'Dwyer!" He then named several others who could be depended upon not to enter Burroughs' camp, either by reason of their own integrity or the pledges they had given to other candidates. "So many in the field scatters the vote," he continued, "and that gives us a chance to work."
"How about Hall?" asked the doctor.
"Senator Hall seems safe. He is one enemy whom Bob cannot buy. I never saw a man hold the idea of revenge as Hall does."
"If Joe Hall doesn't vote for Burroughs it is the first time that he ever resisted easy money," quoth the doctor. "However, hate will make even money seem of small account. But Hall will do some dirty trick, one of these days, to get even on that mining deal. Those two are a good pair to draw to."
"As politics now are it would not be hard to find three of a kind," added Danvers.
The old man took up the evening paper, containing the list of the legislators and their city addresses. He checked off the names as he read, and presently looked up.
"As far as we can tell Burroughs is shy several votes for a majority."
"Looks that way."
"We don't know who Moore's holding back—worse luck! But we do know who are solid against Burroughs. By the way, what's Charlie Blair up to?"
"Politically or personally?"
"I think one means the other these days, according to all I hear."
"Possibly." After a moment Danvers added: "Blair has promised me on his honor not to vote for Burroughs. I do not think that he will deliberately go back on his word. As for—I can't speak of it, doctor! Poor Arthur!"
"Eva's not a bad woman—she's only an ambitious fool," asserted the doctor, touching one of the sore spots in Danvers' aching heart. "I can overlook a woman's folly if it is the result of an overwhelming passion—some women are as intense as men. But to play with fire—while she is as cold as ice—as calculating as a machine——" The speaker made a gesture of disgust. "Be sure that she is promised something she thinks worth her while, by Bob or by Moore, for her sudden interest in politics and—Charlie Blair. She is a good catspaw. I thought she was making eyes at Charlie at the opera, but I couldn't believe my own. She and Moore are working the membersof this Legislature by concerted action, or I am very much mistaken."
"You haven't heard any open talk of Mrs. Latimer—Arthur would—I should fear for his reason—for his life—if scandal——"
"Well, I can't say there hasn't been any," compromised the doctor. "But there'll be more if she doesn't turn Blair down pretty quick. He's drinking, too; something he hasn't done since his sister came back from school to live with him. He could always stand liquor in abnormal quantities; but he can't stand"—abruptly he blurted it out—"first Eva knows there will be hell to pay—and I doubt if her credit is good."
"She doesn't care for him, then?"
"Nah!" The negative was drawn out contemptuously. "All she wants of Charlie is his vote for Burroughs. She never loved but one man in her life." A glance went to the senator, but he did not apply the words.
"Poor Winifred!" sighed the young man. The doctor caught the baptismal name.
"Winifred's a plucky woman. I'll wager she knows practically every move being made in all this rotten business—all," the old man added significantly. "Yet you would never mistrust it to see her. It is well to put on the cheerful face and tone, yet when in trouble is it best? It is deceiving to one's best friends, robbing them ofthe opportunity to extend sympathy. Winifred Blair is worrying over Charlie, yet she keeps her troubles to herself and cheats her friends of a just privilege."
"I wish," began Danvers, then closed his lips. No one should see his heart.
"I wish she would give you the right to protect her," said the doctor, heartily. "What has come between you two? I had thought——"
"I do not know," acknowledged the disconsolate lover. "She was friendly. We've seen each other quite a good deal. I thought she was one to understand. I cannot talk as most men do—I am aware of my failing."
His eyes were more eloquent than words, as he paused. "And now she hardly speaks to me—makes some trivial excuse to leave me with Charlie when I call; or if he is not there she pleads an engagement. You have noticed how Moore has been paying her marked attention? It is for her to choose——"
When Danvers began again it was of another phase of his trouble. "Miss Blair has doubtless heard of my financial loss, caused by that early snowstorm and later rain, which crusted the snow until my cattle were almost wiped out. My foreman wired me the night of the opera, you remember. Those that were not frozen were starved todeath. My political life here in Helena is costing me a fortune."
Danvers rose and paced the floor. "It gives me the jigs, even to think of those cattle," he burst out. "Not the financial loss, you understand, but the suffering of dumb animals!"
"You did all you could, Phil."
"Yes. But what with a three years' drouth and no hay in the country, and the railroads blocked so that no feed could be shipped in, even if we could have gotten to the cattle on the range—oh, well——" The cattleman dropped to his chair with a sigh of helplessness.
The doctor took a new turn.
"I have known you for fifteen years or more, my boy, and I never knew you to be jealous before, much less unjust."
"I—unjust!" Danvers was startled. Never before had he faced such accusations.
"Yes, you. You should know Winifred Blair better than to think such thoughts as you are harboring."
"My experience with women has been unfortunate, probably; I do not pretend to understand them—they are too complex for me."
"Tut, tut!" The gentle friend tried to turn the tide. "Not Winnie. She is a woman to trust."
"But how can she have anything to do with Bill Moore? That is what I can't get over."
"You shouldn't speak so of Moore. It shows a spirit I'm sorry to see you cultivate. Go in and win. You have probably told Winifred something of your standards of public morality and the sacredness of the ballot, and she fears that Charlie will disgrace both himself and her. She perhaps fears your disgust if——"
"She is mistaken if she thinks so poorly of me. Her brother's conduct could never change my feeling for her; rather, pity would come to plead for love. Do you think she does care for me?"
"Do I? You had better ask her—not go tilting at political windmills when more important matters should be——"
"If Charlie's foolishness is the only thing in my way, I'll force him to be a man if I have to gag him in joint assembly!" cried the lover, joyously.
"What transformations love will work!" sighed the matchmaker after he had bidden the light-hearted Danvers good-night. "Standing practically alone against the might of Burroughs' millions—holding his scant forces by sheer force of character, yet downed by the mistaken attitude of a mere slip of a girl!"
The next afternoon Winifred lay back in a low chair before a leaping wood fire. She wanted to think, to puzzle out all that was taking place around her. She recognized, yet refused to accept the verdict of her common sense. She was no unsophisticated school girl; she was a woman of the world. The social and political atmosphere in which she moved seemed charged with dynamic possibilities. Her closed eyes suddenly brimmed with tears. Winifred let them fall unheeded, feeling miserable consolation in her self-pity, as women will.
Apart from the senatorial contest lay her personal interest in the game being played by the scheming Burroughs, the unscrupulous Moore andthe ambitious Eva, on the one side, and her brother on the other. What chance had Charlie against such a combination? Robert Burroughs had judged truly; Blair's degradation would hurt Winifred inexpressibly. He had chuckled as he had watched the growing attachment between his brother-in-law and the girl, and thought of his vow. He realized that here was a way to bring vicarious suffering upon the man whose distinction had first roused his envy and whose rectitude had won his hatred.
As Winifred groped in the tangle of State and private intrigues that enmeshed her, the fire burned low and the snapping of an occasional spark checked and soothed until her mind slipped into more peaceful channels. She looked about the quiet room. The firelight threw her face into relief and accentuated the faint lines of pain that had come during the last few weeks; a pensive touch had been added to a countenance that combined loveliness with strength. The yellow puff-ball in the gilded cage by the window stirred drowsily, with a faint, comforting chirp. The white and gold of blossoming narcissi, rising from their sheaths of green, gleamed purely from a tabouret, and their incense filled the room.
Presently she took up events of recent occurrence with clearer mind. She had probably exaggerated the seeming coherence of disconnectedhappenings. She longed to think so. Eva took great interest in the senatorial contest. Should that be an indictment? She craved excitement—expected to hold the stage in any episode; her position as the wife of an eminent jurist gave her a certain prestige in the political arena where pretty women were not unwelcome. The power they wielded, whether consciously or not, was almost unlimited—Winifred had seen enough of the average legislator to appreciate that fact.
In thinking it over, Winifred admitted that Mrs. Latimer had known for many years Mr. Burroughs, Mr. Moore, Mr. Danvers and her brother Charlie—four of the men who were playing their part in the drama fast drawing to its climax. What cause for apprehension in this? Ever since the Latimers' marriage their home had been a rendezvous for the politicians of the State—at least, of Arthur's party. Surely Mrs. Latimer could receive the same guests, even if the judge was away—even if some among her satellites were men whose reputations excluded them from all but the very smartest set. If she talked politics she did so in the pursuit of her affirmed desire to learn of politics at first hand. It could not be that she would descend to the plane of a lobbyist! But what would Judge Latimer think of this surprising fervor? He would not care to express himself as opposed to Burroughs. Didnot Eva care for her husband's opinions—for his reputation? Winifred did not feel called upon to judge her friend; she was only trying to account for the circumstantial evidence accumulating against Eva.
When the girl turned her thoughts to her brother, she was sucked into a whirling maelstrom. The doctor's opinion of her had been correct. She knew her brother and his fluctuating fortunes as only a sister of infinite love and infinite tact could know. But she never had dreamed that he could be enmeshed by the wiles of the wife of his friend. The crux of the whole matter lay in the possibility of saving him, not only from Eva's hypnotic charm, but from the less intricate and more thinly concealed machinations of Mr. Moore. Winifred felt her first smart of anger revive toward Mrs. Latimer as she recalled how ingenuously Charlie had been led to the juggernaut of Burroughs' ambition.
It was horrible—horrible! Afresh came the intolerable loathing of it all—this overshadowing political machine, that could scatter ruin in its wake even if it did not obtain control.
Winifred knew that Danvers was studying every move and checkmating where he could. She felt that if possible he would prevent this crime of buying a United States senatorship. He would protect Charlie. Through the doctor she learnedhow strong a bulwark of the State the senator from Chouteau County was proving to be. She gloried in these recitals, and longed to confide in her old friend, but always the woman's reticence withheld her.
Presently a tap came at the door, and Mrs. Latimer appeared on Winifred's invitation to enter.
"How fortunate," she said, "that you came to the hotel for the winter! It's not only more convenient for you and Charlie, but for me. Would you sit by baby for a half hour, Winnie, dear?" she entreated. "The nurse is out, and I must run downtown before six."
"Yes, indeed! I'd love to."
They passed into the Latimers' apartments, and when Eva finally left, Winifred sat down beside the crib where the child slept. Heavy portieres hung behind her, evidently covering the double doors leading into other rooms beyond. In the stillness she heard a voice.
"I tell you I don't want any paltry thousand dollars! I know of three men who've got five thousand. You promised——" The rest was indistinct. A soothing voice followed that Winifred recognized; then: "I don't care a damn if everybody can hear. I want what you promised if I vote for——" The speaker must have walked from the dividing wall, for the girl heardno more. After a time an almost inaudible scratch, scratch came from behind the draperies. Winifred rose in dismay, throwing down the book she was reading. Who was seeking entrance through this private door? It was evidently a preconcerted signal, for it came again, impatiently; then cautious footsteps retreated. Winifred choked the shudder that swept over her. Mr. Burroughs' headquarters took all the rooms on that side of the hall except those occupied by Judge Latimer and his family. She had heard the unmistakable voice of Mr. Moore. Had he used that frontier knock—a scratch on the door as he might scratch on the flap of a tent?
In a frenzy the girl walked through the suite.
"I will not believe—I will not!" she said to herself. "I do not understand; but it is all right—I'm sure it is. I'll stand by Eva—she shall not be talked about—shall not do foolish things. Oh, this contest! And poor Judge Latimer!" Her thoughts raced on. "How much worse if someone else had heard that signal! But it meant nothing—of course, it meant nothing!"
She smiled, with a conscious effort, when Mrs. Latimer returned, with apologies for delay; and resolved again not to abandon Eva to the innuendos that were already circulating.
"Shall we go down to dinner together, Eva?"she asked, gently. "I'm alone to-night; Charlie is dining at the club."
"Thank you, dear. I believe I'll have my dinner sent up. Thank you so much!"
After her lonely meal Winifred remembered her unfinished book, and thought to get it as she stepped from the elevator. She knocked lightly at Mrs. Latimer's door. She heard a faint rustle inside, then all was still. Again she gave a soft, playful battering of open palms on the panels; then she fled to her own apartments, and flung herself face downward on the pillowed couch, weeping as though her heart would break.
On the other side of the closed door stood Eva Latimer, lips parted, hands clasped on her breast in terror.
The Honorable William Moore came from between the portieres over the door which he had used for entrance from Burroughs' apartments into the Latimer suite.
"That's just like a woman!" he grumbled, as he returned to the Morris chair. "Fly to open a door!"
"But I didn't open it!"
"No, but you meant to," severely.
"I was frightened," pleaded Eva.
"No, you were not," contradicted Moore. "You wanted to get that door open. It wasn't necessary that it be opened at once. You shouldhave given me time to get out of here into those rooms that Burroughs reserved for just such emergencies. It would never do for me to be found here. But, no! That door must be opened! I've noticed that trait in other women. They don't reason; they don't think. But they must have a door opened the moment there is a knock."
"It might have been Winnie. After you told me that you gave our signal—that you wanted to go over this list before dinner—I've been sick with fear that she heard your scratch. But evidently she didn't, for she asked no questions when I returned. I don't want her to suspect anything. I never wanted you to come through those connecting doors, anyway. Why not come openly, as everyone else does?"
"I tell you it would never do!" angrily. "Miss Blair had better suspect—than know," grimly. "What people don't see they can't prove."
"It might have been Arthur," still seeking justification.
"Well, it wasn't," replied the political manager, coolly. "Besides, he has a latch-key, and we should have heard its click. Now, let's get to work. I've got a dinner engagement with Charlie Blair to-night at eight-thirty. Here's the list. Let's check up."
The Honorable was very methodical, very systematic. He called off senators and representatives in alphabetical order, and checked or drew a line through their names as Eva told of her efforts in Burroughs' behalf.
"How do you do it?" asked the man with admiration, as she reported that one particularly obdurate senator, too rich to be influenced by money, had promised his vote.
"I told him frankly that it was a personal affair," admitted the fair lobbyist. "He knows women well enough to understand why I have never been satisfied to live in this little hill city——"
"And he thought it his duty to see that your brilliancy lighted wider domains—I see." Moore finished the sentence to suit himself.
"He was very nice about it," returned Eva, haughtily. "He thinks that Arthur should have some recognition from the government for all that he has done for the party; and he added that Arthur was too big a legal light to be eclipsed by the shadow of Mount Helena." She paused, evidently hesitating to speak further. "Can't you get the others on the list yourself? I'm getting tired of——" She was shaken by the unexpected knock; suddenly, but too late, she was afraid of what her husband would think—would say. Her aspirations seemed of small account after that tap that could not be answered.
"Get Charlie Blair's promise, and we'll besatisfied," said Moore, not unkindly. "You have done very well."
"Will Mr. Burroughs keep his promise? He knows that I——" Eva could not speak to Moore of her fear of the man whose money she would accept.
"Burroughs is all right. Words don't count, these days; it's money that turns the trick."
"But I want more than money. I want that place for Arthur."
"My dear lady," urbane William rose and bowed. "If Robert Burroughs is elected to the United States Senate, the judge shall be Minister to Berlin. It is practically arranged already. Bob's a big man in his party. What he asks for he'll get, never you fear. That is—in Washington."
"I'm glad to be assured." Mrs. Latimer intimated by a look that the interview was over, and rose. But Moore did not choose to go.
"When do you think that you can get Senator Blair? Heaven knows you've spent more time on him than on all the rest put together."
"I begin to wish that I had never seen Charlie Blair," petulantly.
"Oh-h! It's that way, eh? He's getting a little—a lit——"
"Don't you dare!" flashed Mrs. Latimer. "You promised to ask no questions."
"Pardon me. I said I didn't care what means you used," corrected Moore, with delicate emphasis. He added, reflectively: "Blair has always been something of a recluse; but I've noticed that when a Puritan once feels a little of the warmth of the devil's presence that he's rather loath to step out into the cold again." The look of anger from Mrs. Latimer made him change both tone and words. "We have depended on you to get Charlie," he said, reproachfully. "I never wanted to tackle him. You know how it is? I've never had but one weakness——"
"Yes. She was here this afternoon when you signaled," interrupted Eva, glad to repay him in ever so little for his insult. "What a pity that you could not have known it. You might have come in."
"Thank God I didn't!"
"Winifred is too good for you. Senator Danvers is the sort she will marry."
Not relishing the information, Moore turned to go. But he had one more sting. "It'll be pretty hard for you to see Danvers married, won't it?" Then, satisfied to see the quick flush on Eva's cheeks, he added casually: "I'll talk with Blair to-night. You needn't bother with him further." He knew how to frighten the woman. It was understood that she must follow instructions or receive no pay.
"Give me one more chance," begged Eva, trembling.
As Mr. Moore walked briskly toward the club where he was to have dinner with Blair he thought of all that underlay this winter's work, and it seemed but a continuance of the days of fur and whiskey smuggling in the Whoop Up Country. It was a series of wheels within wheels—this work of electing a man to Congress; and the man's soul reveled in the intrigue of it. He was quite content to be the one to superintend their revolutions and to watch the havoc which they might cause. Burroughs' vaulting ambition was the greatest need of all, but revolving around it were the triple, lesser desires of the ex-trader; of wreaking vengeance on Judge Latimer through his wife's folly; of causing Charlie Blair's downfall, to repay the old grudge of the Queen's evidence; and of wounding the hated Danvers through his friends, as well as separating him from Winifred.
And now but one vote was needed to give Burroughs his heart's desire. Moore had not told Eva this. But if Charlie could be secured to-night, to-morrow or the next day he would give the signal, and the men, bought but not yet delivered, would vote for Burroughs—and the battle be won! Oh, it was glorious! Bobwaslucky. How often he had said it of himself. Yet suddenfear came. A certain Corsican had thought that he was the darling of the gods, and confused his luck with destiny. Had Burroughs made the same mistake? Certainly not. Moore's habitual confidence returned manifold. The opposition was divided among too many men to amount to anything more than to keep Burroughs in uncertainty, and no stretching of his imagination could conceive any one man fusing their warring elements. Moore already saw his winter's work crowned with success.
Blair was waiting on the club steps for his host, and the dinner was ready. They were unusually silent until the black coffee and the cigars were brought. Then Moore leaned forward to reach the cognac for his coffee and asked:
"How much does it cost you a year to live, Charlie? Expenses run pretty high?"
The questions were unexpected. Blair knew the motive of his host in giving a dinner, for Moore seldom entertained without an underlying reason. Certainly he never spent his own or Burroughs' money without expecting fair returns. But Charlie had thought the attack would be more direct. Therefore he answered lightly:
"I might reply as a colored man did who was asked how little he could live on. 'I live and work on three cents' worth of peanuts a day, but I'm a little hungry sometimes.'"
Mr. Moore smiled perfunctorily. He had no sense of humor.
"What have you been doing all summer?"
"Prospecting."
"Prospecting is like trying to raise money without security. Neither pans out."
"Precious little you know about either," retorted Blair.
"You're a poor man," said Moore, abruptly. The announcement struck the senator as superfluous. He nodded.
"I am familiar with the fact."
The Honorable William resolved to strike. He had never thought to speak to Charlie, but if Mrs. Latimer could not bring him to the point he would have to do it himself. One more member must be secured, and Blair was the only possible man. The other legislators who had not already succumbed seemed impregnable.
Moore became impatient as he remembered how easy it had seemed at first to secure enough votes to elect his chief.
"Charlie," he began, clearing his throat, "we want you in this fight we are making, and we want you hard. We are going to win. We are going to get the votes; if we don't get them one way, we're going to get them another."
"So I've understood."
The host felt on unstable ground at the noncommittalanswer, but he boldly pushed ahead. No time to fear quicksands—the end of the session was too near! He dwelt on the good that Burroughs could do the State if he went to Congress, and finally repeated:
"Bob's going to be elected. He's gaining votes every day. But we need to get the thing over with, and—it will be to your financial interest to work with us." Moore played nervously with his teaspoon.
Senator Blair watched his smoke rings fade, and made no response. Both men were silent for a time. Moore occupied himself by placing, with infinite exactness, three cubes of sugar on his spoon and pouring brandy over them. When the liquor was fired the blue flame lighted his face weirdly. So mightMephistopheleshave looked when temptingFaust. He was thinking that Blair had always been a failure, and always would be—slow, methodical, too dull to see his best interests. He was a plodder, content with moderate means, when infinite opportunities in Montana waited a man's grasp—if he was sharp enough.
But silent Charlie was thinking that his opportunity had come. During the past weeks he had observed, with his usual calm, the trend of events. He had been inclined to promise Mrs. Latimer the boon she asked, for he would be glad to promote Judge Latimer's advancement (remembering the fine that Latimer had paid at Fort Macleod), even if in doing so he should aid the man he hated for stealing his squaw. But Charlie was beginning to forget the judge's kindness in his passion for the judge's wife. He realized that as soon as he cast his vote for Burroughs all the advances and marks of favor which stamp a lobbyist of the sex without a franchise would be a thing of the past—an episode to be forgotten. He had quite lost sight of the commandment, "Thou shalt not covet thy neighbor's wife." Instead, he was dreaming over the fact of a possible possession.
Knowing too well the paucity of his bank account, he was tempted to play both sides—to make a big strike with Moore, and to press his half-repulsed, half-accepted passion until Eva Latimer should consent to his plans for the future. To sum the matter up: He meant to get more than anyone else from this business of electing a United States senator. Never mind Winifred. The lure of inviting eyes had so completely ensnared him that during these days of intrigue he had almost forgotten the existence of his sister in the alternate intoxication of Eva's companionship and the less dangerous one of liquor.
The host grew impatient as his guest made no effort to reopen the conversation. He drank his coffee with a jerk and drew an envelope from hispocket. It was stuffed with bills, and a torn corner showed the figures "1000." Moore pulled it out and threw it across the table. "There! That's what Burroughs and I do business with," he exclaimed. "'Tisn't so heavy as gold, nor as pretty; but it's a pretty good substitute. It's not intended to influence your vote," he hastened to add, as he noted the senator's expression; "it just shows you that my feelings are agreeable toward you—and that pretty sister of yours."
"Leave my sister out of it, please," commanded Blair, with dignity. "I can't use a thousand-dollar bank note. I'm not in the habit of flashing bills of that denomination."
"You will be if you tie to us," suggested the tempter. "Thousand-dollar bills will be as common in Helena in a few days as nickels in a contribution box. I'm about out of 'em myself, but the old man's bringing in a stack to-night. They come in right handy for contingent expenses."
"I suppose so," assented Blair, pocketing the money with a fine air of preoccupation that made the Honorable William smile the smile of the canary-nourished cat. "If there's any money going I'd like to get my share of it, of course, if it could be done without my sister knowing it. But I'll not vote for Burroughs until the last one. Perhaps then I'll see about changing if you are sure that you have a majority."
Moore rapidly ran over a list of names. "Will that satisfy you?" he demanded. "You see, I trust you. Every man I have named will vote for Burroughs whenever I say so. I may never call on them all—I won't unless I have to. But"—the pause was purposely impressive—"they are to have their money whether they are called upon or not, and so will you, provided that Burroughs is elected."
"You'll never make me believe that Joe Hall can be bought—not until I hear him give his vote for Robert Burroughs. I notice you have him listed. He hates Bob more than I do, and that's saying a good deal."
"He was the easiest one of the whole bunch. He was the cheapest, and he's afraid he won't earn his money."
"Does Burroughs sanction all this?" Senator Blair was amazed, not so much at the men bought as at the sum total that must have been expended. Why was Burroughs so anxious to go to Congress? He did not need the money that was popularly supposed to accrue to senators in Washington from land grants, timber lands and other large steals; he had millions already.
"Well, he's putting up the dough, but I don't trouble him with all the minor details," admitted Moore.
"Bob's not the only one who's offering good money for votes," said Blair.
"Who has approached you?"
"That's like asking who yelled fire at a theater. There are some seven candidates, and a thousand workers—I can't name them all."
"We expect to pay every member who votes for Burroughs—of his own party or not. The man who votes for him without being paid is a fool."
"Might as well have a red flag of auction placed on the speaker's desk." Senator Blair was inclined to moralize.
"Money is a legitimate source of influence in a Legislature." Moore was on the defensive.
"I judge that you think so, if no one else. But, see here! I can't vote for Burroughs, any way I see it!" (Moore thought of his vanished thousand-dollar bill!) "I've promised Danvers to vote for the Governor. My friendship for Phil—you know he saved my sister's life——"
"Friendship be damned! What difference does it make when you can get cash and get it easy? Say!" Moore leaned forward in his earnestness. "If you've been approached before, let me get my work in." He held up ten fingers as indicative of what he would pay.
"Ten thousand dollars doesn't make much of a stir in Montana," spoke Blair, scornfully.
"Fifteen, then!" The senator's eyes narrowed. "Twenty? Come, now! How's that? Burroughs will pay it. No one else has got that, Charlie."
"If Burroughs is good for twenty thousand, he's good for more."
"How much do you want? Spit it out!" The briber was disgusted. This was not the Blair whom he had known in Fort Benton days.
"I'm not soliciting nor making a proposition. But if my vote is worth anything it's worth twenty-five thousand—yes, thirty thousand dollars!" Blair, for the first time, looked Burroughs' manager in the eye. If he got that sum he could leave Montana—and not alone!
"Are you mad?" Moore was aghast. Even his own rapacity had not thought to hold up Burroughs for such a sum. Thirty thousand dollars for speaking a man's name in joint assembly! Thus he interpreted selling a vote.
"No, I'm not mad. But that is my price." Blair also rose, unexpectedly committed to a fixed statement.
"You'll never get it!" roared Moore. "I'll see you damned first! We'll find others who aren't so high-priced! You have over-reached this time, Charlie Blair!" And they parted in unfriendly fashion.
The next day the Honorable Mr. Moore notified Mrs. Latimer that all she had done for Mr. Burroughs would avail nothing if she failed to secure the vote of Senator Blair.
"Well, well, well! What does this mean?" The doctor looked in amazement at Miss Blair as she opened the door to his rap, the same evening that Moore gave his dinner to her brother. Traces of tears were to be seen; indeed, more tears seemed ready to fall, despite her effort to restrain them.
"Come right in, doctor!" Winifred made no pretense of answering his question, but busily engaged herself in pulling the easiest chair to the cheerful grate fire. "I believe that I am more glad to see you than anyone else in the world," she added, affectionately, as she motioned her caller to the comfortable corner. "Now we'll have a nice, long, cozy evening."
"What does this mean?" repeated the doctor,with the privilege of friendship, not to be put off.
"You should know better than to ask a woman why her eyes are red—it isn't polite! Are mine very red?" she asked, ruefully. Before he could answer: "Let us talk of Fort Benton, and of what good times we'll have when we are there again to live happy ever after. Really, I mean it," she said, earnestly, seeing his questioning face. "I want to forget—everything but Fort Benton."
Still her visitor looked at her keenly, until she sat silent under his scrutiny. He was not deceived. Nevertheless he humored her for the moment, knowing that she was no match for his astuteness when the time came to probe her hurt.
"Fort Benton, eh? You know the weak spot of the old doctor, you 'rastical'," whimsically. Then, more seriously: "I, too, wish we were there. Like you, I am sick of Helena. We were all happier, better off, in the little old trading-post—before—the railroads came." He ascribed all evils to the course of empire as exemplified in the steel rails of commerce. "The Latimers, the Burroughs, the Halls, Bill Moore, you and Charlie—every one of you moved away. Phil and I are the only ones left; and since he is in the Legislature I spend almost as much time in Helena as at Fort Benton."
"There's Mr. O'Dwyer."
"I forgot him. Yes, O'Dwyer stays near Danvers—he left the Police to go to him, you know." As he looked around the room he asked, "Where's Charlie to-night?"
"He's dining with Mr. Moore at the club."
"With Moore?" The doctor, surprised, repeated her words.
"Yes. I—didn't know—they weren't friends."
Something in her hesitation gave her visitor an opportunity to ask: "You do not care very much for the Honorable William?"
"No, I do not!" came the quick response.
"Yet he is accounted quite a ladies' man; and," tentatively, "I can see that he is quite infatuated."
"He can get un-infatuated," interrupted Winifred, with no pretense of misunderstanding.
The doctor was pleased at this outburst. He had been an observer of advances and repulses between these two. Now he was thinking of another affair whose recent complications were giving him much concern.
"You wouldn't call him a gentleman?"
"Oh, no. He's a politician."
"That's rather hard on the rest of us who are dabbling in politics."
"You know what I mean!" Winifred made a prettymoue, her chin upturned, showing clear against the leaping flame. As her companionnoted her sweetness he almost longed for his bygone youth.
"I sometimes think I have missed a good deal by not marrying," mused the doctor, with seeming irrevelance. "But the rôle of husband was too exacting a one for me!"
Miss Blair gave his hand a gentle pressure which conveyed her disbelief.
"We bachelors are rather a forlorn class, when the years begin to count up; and as for the women who do not marry——" He left her to complete the observation.
"They are not all forlorn," defended Winifred. "But I will admit that the unsuspected longings of some of them are pathetic. Here is a case in point. I had a caller this very afternoon—a woman of middle age who used to work for us. She was in distress because she had received an offer of marriage. From a worldly standpoint she is foolish not to accept the man, for he is worthy of her, and could provide a home. When I ventured to say as much she cried, and showed me this clipping from some old paper. Shall I read it?"
The doctor assented, and Winifred rose and took a slip from the mantel.
"'There is an interesting old Chinese legend,'" she read, "'which relates how anangel sits with a long pole which he dips into the Sea of Love and lifts a drop of shining water. With an expert motion he turns one-half of this drop to the right, where it is immediately transformed into a soul; the other half to the left—a male and a female; and these two souls go seeking each other forever. The angel is so constantly occupied that he keeps no track of the souls that he separates, and they must depend upon their own intuition to recognize each other.'"
"'There is an interesting old Chinese legend,'" she read, "'which relates how anangel sits with a long pole which he dips into the Sea of Love and lifts a drop of shining water. With an expert motion he turns one-half of this drop to the right, where it is immediately transformed into a soul; the other half to the left—a male and a female; and these two souls go seeking each other forever. The angel is so constantly occupied that he keeps no track of the souls that he separates, and they must depend upon their own intuition to recognize each other.'"
The old man reached for the paper as Winifred ceased. She was silent as he glanced it over.
"That old legend did not seem trite to her; it does not to me," said the girl, as the doctor looked up. "I asked her to leave it for me to copy."
"And the woman?" reminded the doctor.
"She stood before me, gaunt, unlovely, growing old. As I read her clipping she clasped her hands tensely. 'Don't you see why I don't marry him?' she cried, and all the romance and persistent hope of her lifetime came to her faded eyes. 'Because I want to find my other half. Because I want—Love.'"
"She is all right, and I respect her," said the doctor. "Too many women sacrifice their personality in loveless marriages."
"I am in doubt," speculated Winifred, "whether the women who lead colorless, unloved and unloving lives are not happier after all. They have fewer troubles. Men are very interesting, but they can make a woman's life so miserable, too."
More than a hint of pathos in this, thought the listener. "How about a girl making a man miserable?" he inquired. "A girl who has love—deep, sincere love waiting her recognition?" The surgeon took the knife resolutely.
"I don't know what you—I was speaking in general——"
"Somewhere in the Bible, I think, somebody goes about seeking whom he may devour. Nowadays women go about looking for trouble. I've known that kind before, Winnie, but I never saw anyone fairly gallop after it as you do."
"Why, doctor!"
"My dear," the friend put his hand caressingly on her own, "why do you repulse Danvers' love? Do not be offended," he said gently, as she pulled away.
She hid her face in her upturned hands. Suddenly it was sweet to feel the solicitude of a love so like what she had dreamed a father's might be.
"I can see, dear child. I know Philip as I know my own heart. I think I know you (so far as a man can understand a woman)," he strokedher hair fondly, "and you are making a mistake."
"No, I'm not," came in a whisper. "I—you don't know—about—Charlie——" Tears fell fast, relieving the suppressed anguish of weeks.
"Oh, yes, I do." His words fell like balm.
"Charlie has been so good to me all these years. I can't bear to see him—drift. You know—I can't say it——"
"Don't say it," counseled the doctor. "I understand perfectly."
"And yet," with quivering voice, "you ask me why I turn Mr. Danvers away! Can't you understand—knowing his love for Judge Latimer? Oh, what shall I do? What shall I do?" she gasped; but soon controlled herself. "And I'm afraid Charlie will vote for Mr. Burroughs because——"
"Exactly!" The doctor used the truth unsparingly. "Eva has secured many votes for Burroughs. But we'll hope that Charlie can be held in line. He has promised Danvers to vote for his candidate—the governor."
"Oh, but I'm afraid!" wailed the girl. "And if—oh, he would despise us both—we are of the same blood! If it were not for this dreadful contest I might be so happy!" Confession shone in her eyes.
"Thank God!" said the old man, reverently. "He has been good to you—both." He kissedthe hand that trembled in his. "You have made me happy, too."
They sat in silent communion, the old man watching the play of emotion on the girl's sensitive face, now free from the look of anxiety that had been so apparent.
"Love is one long heartache," said the girl, plaintively. "Wouldn't you think, doctor, that if a man cared——"
"If that isn't just like a woman!" interrupted her companion, thinking he knew what Winifred was trying to say. "Women must have it in words. You want Philip to chatter away like a society man. He will talk fast enough when you quit your foolishness and give him a chance."
"I only wanted to say that he is undemonstrative," explained the girl, flaming red. "I should think that if he—oh, but I am glad he does not speak!" she interrupted herself, vehemently, remembering her brother's peril. "He must not speak!"
"Don't allow any false pride to come between you," urged the doctor. "Nothing kills a man's love so quickly as indifference, real or feigned."
"Do you think so?" She was glad to be impersonal again. "I imagined a little indifference piqued a man to further effort."
"The heat of propinquity feeds the flame of love," oracularly.
"I do not agree with you there, Doctor. I think men grow tired of women's solicitude and company."
"Of their wives?"
Winifred nodded.
"Precious few have the experience! But I agree with you that most married people see too much of each other. Men seem to realize the fact. That is why they go on hunting and fishing trips. Do they hunt? A few of the party, but the rest sit around and enjoy themselves, because they are a party ofmen. Women will never understand this feeling—this insulation, so to speak; it is the cause of much of the unhappiness we see. Most men fall short of the standard a woman demands from her husband. The first rapturous love, with its utterance and reciprocity, is expected to last after years of intimacy. In love, as in a dinner, comes the gradual relaxation, the ease of well-being, which is the greatest compliment (if she but knew it) to a woman's power to evoke and to hold love. She has not lost it; to reiterate what is a self-evident fact seems to the man unnecessary. A happy married life is one of content, comradeship, loyalty. Words are not needed where such conditions exist."
"I'll remember all you have said," sighed the girl, "but I shall never have an opportunity to prove it!"
"Nonsense, girl!" The comforter rose as he heard Charlie's voice in the outer hall. "You are depressed to-night. Life will look brighter to-morrow. These tangled trails are going to be straightened—I'm sure of it! Love will crystallize that Chinese legend into reality—for you and for Phil. Good-night! Good-night!"