CHAPTER VIIIPASSAGES WITH MAYOR BLACKMayor of the great city of Chicago was hurriedly apologetic:"I beg your pardon, Senator. You said eight-thirty, you know, and it's that now. I came up and knocked. Evidently you did not hear. A man I met in the lobby told me that you had left the hotel in a taxi half an hour ago. He said he saw you go. So I tried the door and when it opened stepped in, just to make sure. I am sorry to have intruded."Apparently, however, he did not intend to withdraw.Mollie June crouched frightened in her chair, but Merriam was rapidly pulling himself together."It is I who should apologise for keeping you waiting, Mayor Black," he said. "I will ask Mrs. Norman to excuse us. Will you step into the next room for a few minutes, Mollie June? We shall not be long."He went back to her chair and held out his hand.She took it and rose. Her spirit, too, was reasserting itself. She faced the Mayor with a smile:"Good evening, Mr. Black.""Good evening, Mrs. Norman." He bowed gallantly. "I am very sorry----""Oh," she cried lightly, one would have said happily, "business is business, I know." Then to Merriam: "You won't belong?""Only a minute--dear."(Perhaps we can hardly blame him for profiting by the license his rôle gave him to address her so.)He moved to the door opposite to that through which Rockwell had slipped away fifteen minutes earlier and opened it for her. She passed through into the darkness of the other room. He felt for the switch and pushed it.As the light went on she turned and smiled at him:"Thank you."For an instant it seemed to him--perhaps to both of them--that she was really his wife, who was leaving him for a few minutes only, whom he would soon rejoin.Then he turned to face Mayor Black."I need stay only a minute, Senator," the Mayor was saying. "If I had known you were engaged with Mrs. Norman, I shouldn't have bothered you. It wasn't really necessary. I met Mr. Crockett downstairs while I was waiting. He told me the answer. But since I had the engagement with you I came up. If I may, I'll write the veto right here, and then I can go on to the Council meeting."As he spoke he drew a thick roll of paper from his overcoat pocket, unfolded it, opened it at the last sheet, and laid it on a small writing table."I shan't give any reasons," he added, sitting down and picking up a pen. "Least said, soonest mended--eh, Senator?""But you're not to veto! You're to sign!" cried Merriam.Perhaps if he had more fully grasped the significance of the other's statement about Mr. Crockett he would have been less abrupt; but that mighty financier was only a dim name to his mind."What?" said Black, turning in his chair.The Mayor's tone gave Merriam some realisation of the seriousness of the new situation. But he could only stand to his guns."You're tosign! I don't care what Crockett said. I don't care a damn what he said," he corrected himself. "You do what I say, damn you!""But how is this?" exclaimed the Mayor. "Crockett said you fully agreed that the best interests----"He stopped, looking intently at Merriam.In the excitement of the dialogue which had followed Merriam's sending for Mollie June Rockwell had neglected the precaution he had had in mind of having only side lights on. Rockwell had planned, also, that Merriam should sit facing the gas log with his back to the room and look at the Mayor as little as possible. Now the boy stood where the full glare of the chandelier shone on his face. Perhaps, too, the emotions of a youthful love scene, such as he had just passed through, were not the best preparation in the world for counterfeiting the slightly worn cheeks and slightly tired eyes of an elderly if well-preserved politician."Who in hell are you?" gasped the Mayor.Merriam was certainly startled. Perhaps he showed it just a little. But he stood up bravely."You know damn well who I am. And you do as I say or get out of Chicago politics. I'll attend to Crockett," he added. "That's my affair.""Is that so? Well, I guess it's my affair who makes a monkey of me! I----"Again the Mayor stopped abruptly and stared. Then suddenly he rose."I was told the Senator had left the hotel. I think I was correctly informed. What sort of a trick is this? Whoareyou?""Damn you----" Merriam began, with realistic sincerity, but with the vaguest ideas as to what more substantial statement should follow.At this moment, however, Rockwell opened his door and stepped into the room."Aha!" cried the Mayor. No stage villain could have said it better. "Mr. Rockwell! Of the Reform League, I believe!" He bowed sardonically. "'One-Thing-at-a-Time Rockwell!' Well, one thing at a time like this"--he pointed at Merriam--"ought to be enough for a reformer!""Good evening, Mayor Black," said Rockwell. "I believe you were about to sign the Ordinance.""I wasnot. In spite of theSenatorhere. I don't get a chance to defy Senator Norman every day. I rather enjoy it!--And let me tell you," he added, "if you and your friends in that damned League make any more trouble for me or Senator Norman or the Ordinance or anything else after this--if you don't shut up and lie low and keep pretty damn quiet, we'll show you up, my boy. This would make a pretty little story for the newspapers--and for the State's Attorney, too! We might call it 'The Ethics of Reform!' Oh, we have you where we want you now, Mr. Reformer! As for this young impostor here, we'll have to look him up a bit. A very promising young gentleman!"The Mayor evidently enjoyed the center of the stage. He towered tall and imposing and righteous, and looked triumphantly from Rockwell to Merriam and back again."I really think you'd better sign it," said Rockwell. He spoke rather low."What do you mean?" cried the Mayor.Then he thought he saw."Oh, it's strong-arm work next, is it?"There was a note of alarm mingled with his irony, and the magnificence of his pose weakened a little. Rockwell was a determined-looking fellow, and there was Merriam to help him, and the Mayor was not really a very brave man. But he went on talking to save his face:"You certainly are a jewel of a reformer, Rockwell!"Then he saw a point and quickly recovered his full grandeur."I don't quite see how you're going to manage, though. Of course, if it were a case ofpreventingme from signing, you might do it--the two of you! But signing's rather different, isn't it? You can lead a horse to water---- Of course, you can club me or hold a revolver to my head. But, you see, I know you wouldn't dare to fire a revolver here in this room. So just how will you force my fingers to form the letters? Or perhaps you will try forgery? Is forgery the next act, Mr. Reformer?"Rockwell smiled. He was in no hurry to reply. Merriam still stood, as he had throughout this unforeseen dialogue, a rigid spectator.Then, in the moment's silence, very inopportunely, a clock, somewhere outside, struck the hour--a quarter to nine.Rockwell tried to drown it, saying, "I'm hardly so versatile as that."But the Mayor had heard and understood."Oh, that's it!" he cried."Yes, that's it!" said Rockwell, and the center of the stage automatically shifted to him. "If that Ordinance is not returned to the Council with your veto by nine o'clock to-night, it becomes a law whether you sign it or not! You're a bit slow, Mr. Mayor, but you've got it at last!"The Mayor did not answer. He shifted slightly on his feet. His hand shot out. He grabbed the Ordinance from the waiting table and rushed for the door."Catch him!" shouted Rockwell. "Hold him!"Merriam had been a football player. As if released from a spring he darted after the Mayor. From habit he tackled low. They went down with something of a crash, knocking over an ash stand as they fell, and the Mayor gave a groan. If he had ever known how to fall properly, he had forgotten. Merriam hoped there were no bones broken.But Rockwell was wasting no thoughts on commiseration. He was kneeling over the fallen ruler of the city with his hands clapped over his mouth--to prevent further groans or other outcry."Get the paper!" he said.Merriam scrambled forward and tried to pull the Ordinance from the hand at the end of the outstretched arm. It was held tight. He was afraid of tearing it."Twist his arm," said Rockwell.A very little twist sufficed. The Mayor gave up. Merriam rose to his feet with the document."Will you be quiet?" Rockwell demanded in the Mayor's ear, and released his mouth enough to enable him to answer."Yes," said the Mayor feebly. "Let me up.""All right. That's better. If you make any rumpus we'll down you again, you know, and tie you up and gag you.--Give me the paper," he added to Merriam, "and help him up, will you?"He stood watching while the younger man assisted the Mayor in the ponderous job of getting on his feet."I hope you aren't hurt, sir," said Merriam.The Mayor looked sourly at him. "Thanks!" He felt of his arms and passed his hands up and down over his ribs. "I guess I'm all right--except my clothes."In fact his white shirt front was crumpled and his broadcloth coat and trousers were dusty with cigar ash from the fallen stand. Merriam was in little better condition. They were not dressed for football practice. Rockwell only was still immaculate."I'll get a brush," said Merriam. No longer a Senator, he felt very boyish and anxious to be useful.As he spoke he turned to the room--the fall had occurred near the door into the hall--and stopped nonplused. For in her bedroom door stood Mollie June, her eyes full at once of eagerness and of apprehension.How much she had heard I do not pretend to know. Perhaps some of Merriam's unprofessorial profanity, possibly the Mayor's triumphant irony, certainly Rockwell's shout, "Catch him!" and the fall. Doubtless the silence after that thud had been too much for her self-control.The Mayor's rueful gaze travelling past Merriam also rested on Mollie June. A light came into his eyes. He drew himself up."Come in, Mrs. Norman," he said. "Yourhusband"--with a significant emphasis on the word--"has been giving a demonstration of his athletic prowess. He is indeed the Boy Senator and a suitable mate for a woman as young and pretty as yourself."He paid no attention to Merriam's angry and threatening glance but turned to Rockwell."Mr. Rockwell," he said, "I think you'd better give me that Ordinance after all."Rockwell spoke in a low tone to Merriam:"Get her out!"The Mayor had no objection to that. The older men watched while Merriam walked rapidly across the room to Mollie June."You'd better go into the other room again, dear," he said.But Mollie June's eyes were bright and her colour high and her white shoulders very straight."No!" she said."You really will oblige us greatly, Mrs. Norman," said the Mayor, "if you will withdraw for a moment longer.""No!" said Mollie June. "This is my room. I have a right to be here. And I don't like scuffling."She cast a disdainful glance at their crumpled shirts and dusty trousers. And, womanlike, she sought a diversion."What a mess you are in!" she cried. "Mr.--George,--get the whisk broom from the bedroom there!"It was an almost haughty command. And Merriam rejoiced to obey this new mistress of the situation. He darted into the bedroom.The two older men looked at each other. Rockwell was content: time was passing. When the Mayor started to speak he forestalled him."She's really right," he said. "You can't leave like this. And some one might come in."Merriam was back with the whisk broom."Come under the light," ordered Mollie June, addressing the Mayor.That dignitary reluctantly advanced."Turn around. Now, George, brush him."Merriam sought diligently to remove the ashes from the Mayor's garments. It required vigorous work, for the dust was rubbed deeply into the cloth. Mollie June superintended closely. The Mayor had to turn about several times and raise an arm and then the other arm. He could not make much progress in the regaining of his dignity; and he, no less than Rockwell, was conscious of the fleeing moments. But, glancing again and again at Mollie June, girlishly imperious and intent, he could not as yet muster his brutality for what he saw the next move in his game must be. Rockwell waited serenely in the background, the Ordinance in his hand.At last the Mayor's broadcloth was fairly presentable. Nothing could be done, of course, with his shirt front."Now, George," said Mollie June, "it's your turn. Give me the broom.""No, no!""Give me the broom!" She took it from his hand. "Turn around!"And with her own hands and in the manner of wifely solicitude she began to dust his collar and lapels.This was not unpleasant for Merriam, but it prompted the Mayor to take his cue. As he watched his eyes hardened, and in a moment he said:"You take good care of yourhusband, don't you, Mrs. Norman?""I try to," said Mollie June rather pertly, dusting away. Evidently she had not heard enough to know that Merriam had been found out."It must be pleasant," said the Mayor, "to have such a niceyounghusband."Mollie June stopped her work and looked at him in sudden alarm."What do you mean?" she said.Rockwell stepped forward and caught her arm:"Let me lead you into the next room, Mrs. Norman. You must let us talk with the Mayor.""No!" she cried, snatching her arm away, and turning eyes of angry innocence on Mayor Black, "What do you mean?""I mean," he said, with smiling suavity--he was not to be daunted now, and, short of violence there was no way of stopping him,--"that you are a young woman. This gentleman--whose name I do not have the honour of knowing--is also young, and rather handsome. The Senator, of course, is getting old. I find you two alone in your husband's rooms, your husband having been tricked away. You can hardly expect me to believe that you mistook him for your husband. You display no dislike for his person. I draw my own conclusions. Every one in Chicago will draw the same conclusions if this interesting situation, quite worthy of Boccaccio, should become known. That's why I think"--he turned suddenly to Rockwell--"that you'd better give me the Ordinance after all."Mollie June's cheeks were blazing. Merriam's also; he could not look at her. But Rockwell pulled his watch from his pocket."It is now two minutes past nine," he said. "The Ordinance has become law. You can have it now, Mr. Mayor." He held out the document.The Mayor snatched it."It's not legal!" he cried. "And it won't stand. I can prove that I was prevented by foul means--by foul means," he repeated, "from exercising my charter right of veto. I'll take out an injunction, and I'll fight it to the Supreme Court. And in the process all Chicago--the whole United States--shall be entertained with the piquant story of these young people"--he waved a hand towards Merriam and Mollie June,--"aided and abetted by Mr. Reformer Rockwell. I'll ruin them, and you and your League, whatever else comes of it. Oh, you're a clever lot, you--you reformers!"He paused out of breath. Then, dramatically, for he was always self-conscious and inclined to pose:"Madame and gentlemen!"--but the effectiveness of his bow was somewhat marred by the sorry state of his shirt front--"I wish you a very good evening!"But Rockwell was before him with his back to the hall door."You've forgotten your hat, Mayor," he said.(In fact, his tall hat still stood on the writing table where he had set it down before he spread out the Ordinance there to write his veto.)"Damn my hat! Let me go!""Presently, presently. I still think you'd better sign the Ordinance.""Do you mean to knock me down again?""I'd like nothing better, you--cad!" cried Merriam, who had stood bursting with outrage a minute longer than he could endure.The Mayor almost jumped at the savage sincerity of this threat in his rear. Rockwell smiled at the startled look on his face, but he spoke quietly:"No violence. I hope to convince you that it would be to your best interests to sign it. Since it has become a law anyway.""Never!" cried the Mayor. "Do you think I would be a traitor to--to--my party? And I mean to get even with this gang, whatever else I do!"But the next instant he jumped indeed. A new voice spoke--a woman's."Mayor Black," it said, "you're a fool!"CHAPTER IXAUNT MARYAll four of the actors in the little scene turned, and Mollie June uttered an exclamation:"Aunt Mary!"In the doorway from which Rockwell had emerged a few minutes earlier stood the thin, pale, elderly woman whom Merriam had seen with Mollie June in the Peacock Cabaret. She wore a black evening gown, rather too heavily overlaid with jet, was tall and very erect, and had streaked gray hair, a Roman nose, and a firm mouth. The effect as she stood there, framed in the door, was decidedly striking--sibylline.Mollie June ran to her."Oh, Aunt Mary!" she cried.Merriam was afraid that Mollie June would burst into tears. Very possibly she would have liked to do so, but Aunt Mary gave her no opportunity."Lock the door, Mr. Rockwell," she said, putting an arm about Mollie June's waist. Her tone and manner were vigorous and dominant."Good evening, Mr. Black," she continued, while Rockwell hastened to obey her. And to Merriam: "Good evening, Mr.--Wilson. Now I think we had better all sit down and talk it over.""I can't," said the Mayor. "I'm late for the Council meeting already. I've been shamefully tricked, Miss Norman.""I think you have," returned Aunt Mary, releasing Mollie June and advancing a step or two into the room. "But that's the very reason why you need to consider your position at once. You're in a mess. So are we. Perhaps we can help each other out. The Council can wait. 'Phone them that you've been detained. They can go ahead, I suppose. Really, Mr. Black, I see a point or two in this business that I think will interest you."Mayor Black met Mary Norman's direct, purposeful gaze. He was impressed by her air of command and intelligence. He recalled gossip to the effect that it was really she who ran George Norman's campaigns, that she even wrote some of his speeches."Very well," he said, "I'll stay ten minutes. Never mind 'phoning.""Good," said Aunt Mary. "There are seats for all of us, I believe. Take that one, Mayor."She indicated the large armchair with the rose-coloured tapestry in which Mollie June had been ensconced half an hour before, and laid her own hand on the back of the smaller one close by in which Merriam had sat.Then she turned to Mollie June:"Do you wish to leave us, dear, or to stay?""I'll stay!" said Mollie June. Her colour was still high, and the glance she threw in the Mayor's direction was distinctly hostile, but she had recovered her self-control. We shall be able to forgive young Merriam a throb of admiration at her spirit."Very well," said Aunt Mary. "Sit over there, then. Mr.--Wilson," she added, to Merriam, "on that table yonder you will find a humidor. Pass the cigars, please. And pick up that ash stand and set it here by the Mayor."She and the Mayor and Mollie June sat down. Rockwell remained standing. Merriam, though somewhat confused at having turned from Norman into Wilson, hastened to do as he was bid. He picked up the ash stand, straightening the box of matches into place, and brought it and set it by the Mayor's chair. Then he got the humidor, opened its heavy lid, and passed the gold-banded perfectos therein to the Mayor and to Rockwell."Are you leaving me out, young man?" demanded Aunt Mary, who had watched him in appraising silence.Merriam turned to her with the humidor, hesitating."There don't seem to be any cigarettes," he said."I have some in my pocket."But Aunt Mary leaned forward and took from the humidor a package of "little cigars" that had been slipped in at one end of the box of perfectos."No cigarettes for me," she said. "I smoke when I'm with men so as to be one of them. A cigarette leaves me a woman. A cigar, even one of these little ones, makes a man of me. Give me a match, please."With what seemed to himself amazing self-control, Merriam took a match from the ash stand, struck it, and would have held the light for her. But Aunt Mary took it from him and, looking all the while amazingly like his own mother, deliberately and efficiently ignited the "little cigar."Then she looked up quizzically at Merriam, blew out the match, handed it to him, and said, "Sit down, Mr. Wilson."Having seated himself, Merriam found Aunt Mary looking intently at the Mayor, who was smoking and returning her gaze.But Rockwell broke in:"How much do you know, Miss Norman? And how do you know it?""As to how I know it," said Aunt Mary, "that's my own business for the present. Not because there need be any secret about it, but because we haven't time for explanations." She puffed at her little cigar. "As to how much I know, I believe I understand the whole affair--except how Mrs. Norman came into it." She looked at Rockwell.That gentleman did not reply. Merriam broke the silence:"I sent for her."He said it very well--not defiantly, but as a plain, necessary statement of fact.Aunt Mary turned in her chair to look at him."Ah!" she said.He felt that he was colouring under her gaze. Perhaps that colour answered her obvious next question as to why he had done so. She did not ask that question, but turned back to the Mayor:"I overheard a little of your conversation from the doorway before I spoke. Mr. Rockwell was saying he thought that, as things stand now, it would be best for you to sign the Ordinance. I think so too."The Mayor would have interrupted, but she waved her little cigar at him."You can, of course," she continued, "explain that you were tricked. But how much would that help you with Mr. Crockett or any of his cronies and allies? They would only think the worse of you and throw you over the more quickly. A man of your age and standing cannot afford to be tricked. If he is, he had better conceal the fact. And how about the people of Chicago, before whom you come up for reëlection in the fall? Will their sympathies be with you or with the persons who tricked you into giving them the Ordinance they wanted? The American people love a clever trick. And a trick is clever if it succeeds. As for the illegality, they won't care a picayune for that. You said you would fight it in the courts. Well, you might. But it would be a long fight. You yourself mentioned the Supreme Court. And in the meantime it is a law and goes into effect at once. Unless, of course, you take out an injunction. And if you do that, you will make yourself so unpopular that you can never even be nominated again. Let us suppose it goes into effect. Then by the time your fight was won, if you won it, the new conditions would be established, and nobody would dare try to unscramble the eggs. The Council would simply have to pass it over again, and you--or your successor, rather, for you would be out by then--would promptly sign it. No, my friend, there is no road for you in that direction. You would lose out both ways--with the bosses, who would have no more use for a man who had allowed himself to be fooled at a critical juncture, and with the people. Your only chance--unless you wish to retire quickly and ignominiously to private life--is to cut loose from the bosses and throw in your lot with the people--sign the Ordinance, claim the credit, join forces with Rockwell here, defy Crockett, and come out as the people's champion!"The Mayor was not smoking. He was looking hard at Aunt Mary, as one man looks at another. (Her little cigar had effected that.) There was aroused interest in his eyes."Wouldn't you rather like to go into politics as your own boss for a change?" Aunt Mary asked. "Rather than as one miserable little cog in a big, dirty machine?"The Mayor flushed a little and took refuge behind a puff of smoke."Perhaps I would," he said. Then, suddenly: "How about Senator Norman? Do I defy him too?""Not at all," said Aunt Mary. "He also will go over to the people.""Can you answer for him?""I think I can. He will be forced to do so in the same way you are. He too has been victimised."She leaned forward and deposited her small cigar, of which she had really smoked very little, in the ash tray. Sitting erect, she folded her hands in her lap and became forthwith a woman again--a sedate, almost prim, elderly woman."That," she explained simply, "is the source of my interest in this matter. I like you, Mayor Black, because you have some of the courtliness of the old school in your manner. I should be sorry to see you in misfortune. But I care much more, naturally, for my brother, George Norman, and more still for the name of Norman"--from her tone she might have referred to the Deity,--"which has been an honourable name in this country for eight generations, and which George, with his spoils politics and his dissipations, is compromising. I have long wanted him to break with his present associates, to live straight, and to become a real leader, as the Normans were in New York State in the early years of the last century. I have tried again and again to get him to do so. Over and over he has promised me he would. But he is weak. He has never done it. Now he will have to do it!"All the members of the little group looked with some admiration, I fancy, at Aunt Mary, sitting straight, an incarnation of aristocratic, elderly femininity, in her chair. Where a moment or two before she had been an unsexed modern, she looked now like an old family portrait.Rockwell broke the momentary silence:"Miss Norman has presented, so much better than I could have done, the argument which I tried to suggest to Mr. Black."It was probably unfortunate that Rockwell had recalled attention to himself. The Mayor glanced at him with animosity, and at the silent Merriam, and over at Mollie June, listening eagerly in the background. Then at Aunt Mary again. He leaned back, pulling at his cigar, thinking hard.In the silence a slight noise became audible from the bedroom behind Aunt Mary--a word or two of whispering and then a sound as if some one tiptoeing had stumbled a little.The Mayor jumped to his feet."Who's there?" he cried, pointing.For an instant Aunt Mary was out of countenance. But only for an instant. Then, without rising or turning her head, she called:"Come in, Alicia."A moment's silence. Then a laugh, of a premeditated sweetness which Merriam remembered, and Alicia Wayward stood in the doorway.The Mayor and Merriam rose. Mollie June, too, jumped up. Only Aunt Mary remained calmly seated.After a second's pause in the effective framing of the door, Alicia advanced with an air of eager pleasure and held out her hand to the Mayor."Good evening, Mr. Black."The Mayor was a very susceptible male where women like Alicia were concerned. He took her hand."Good evening, Miss Wayward." But, still holding the hand, he looked steadily at her and asked, "Who else is in there?""Who else?" repeated Alicia, raising her pretty dark eyebrows."Or were you whispering to yourself?" pursued the Mayor.Alicia laughed and drew her hand away. "It's only Father Murray." Then, raising her voice a little: "You'll have to come in, Father Murray, to save my reputation. This is really all of us," she added, as the priest rather sheepishly presented himself. "You can search the room if you like."She smiled at him in the manner which novelists commonly describe as roguish.The Mayor smiled back at her, but he turned to the latest arrival."Were you in this plot, too, Father Murray?""Indeed he was," Alicia answered for him. "He didn't quite approve of it at first. But we quite easily converted him. So, you see, it can't be so black as it first seemed to you, Mr. Mayor. And really," she hurried on, "you ought to do as Miss Norman suggests. It's a splendid chance for you. To really be a--a Man, you know! And I can help.""How can you help?" asked the Mayor."I am quite sure," said Alicia, "that I can get my father to subscribe quite a lot of money--a hundred thousand dollars, say--to your campaign fund--yours and Senator Norman's and the Reform League's.""Is Mr. Wayward so keen on reform? I should think he had had nearly enough of it. They've practically put him out of business, these reformers.""He's rather keen on me, you know," said Alicia. "And he likes Mollie June and Miss Norman and George Norman and----""Father Murray, I suppose," interrupted the Mayor, "and anybody else you can think of. You mean you can get it out of him." But his appreciative smile made a compliment of the accusation.Alicia only raised her eyebrows again.Aunt Mary rose and took the reins of business into her own hands once more."I should be willing to subscribe something, too, out of my own income," she said. "And the League can raise plenty of money. You won't lack for funds. Here's my proposition, Mr. Black. You lie low and keep still till noon to-morrow. Don't go to the Council meeting at all. Keep the Ordinance in your own possession. Refuse to see any one. See what the papers say in the morning. And wait for a message from George Norman. If by noon to-morrow he telephones you that he will go with you, will you go over to the League, sign the Ordinance, break with Crockett and the rest of them, and appeal to the people on your own?"The Mayor looked from Aunt Mary to Alicia's appealing and admiring eyes and back at Aunt Mary. He avoided Rockwell and Merriam and Mollie June."That's fair enough," he said. "I'll do that." Then: "You know where Norman is, do you?""Yes," said Aunt Mary. It was plain, however, that she did not intend to communicate the information."And what becomes of this young gentleman?" The Mayor looked at Merriam."He will disappear where he came from.""Well, well," said the Mayor genially, "it has been a very stimulating evening. Rather like a play. You have certainly put me in a box. But I'll admit I'm interested in your suggestion, Miss Norman. I'll think it over carefully. Now I believe I'll call a taxi.""Let me," said Rockwell, and he stepped to the telephone.The Mayor addressed himself to Merriam:"Will you bring me my hat, Mr.--Wilson?"Merriam was near the writing table on which the hat stood. He picked it up and brought it."The resemblance is marvellously close," said the Mayor, studying his face. "And you did your part very well, young man. But let me advise you to keep away from the neighbourhood of Senator Norman. You might get into serious trouble."Merriam did not reply or smile but handed him the hat."There's a taxi ready," said Rockwell, turning from the telephone into which he had been speaking."Thank you," said the Mayor. He looked at Mollie June, who stood some distance from him:"I hope you will forgive me, Mrs. Norman, for my--rudeness earlier this evening. I am afraid I was too angry then to know what I was saying."Like Merriam, Mollie June did not answer or smile. Possibly she was imitating his demeanour. But she bowed slightly."Really," interjected Alicia, "Mollie June had never seen Mr.--Mr. Wilson since before she was married until five minutes before you came in.""Quite so. Of course," said the Mayor. He held out his hand to Aunt Mary. "You are a wonderful woman, Miss Norman.""George shall telephone before noon," she replied, shaking hands like a man."Till then at least you can depend on me."He turned to Alicia.Alicia kept his hand a long minute. "We have always liked you, Mr. Black--we women," she said. "In your new rôle we shall admire you so much!""I would do much to win your admiration," returned the Mayor, somewhat guardedly gallant. "Good night, Father Murray. Good night, Rockwell--you precious reformer! Good night, Mr. Wilson. That's only a stage name, isn't it? Well, good night, all!"The suave politician bowed himself out.CHAPTER XA SENATOR MISSINGThe members of the group that remained looked at one another. Alicia dropped into a chair."Whew!" she said.Father Murray crossed quickly from the doorway, where he had stood silent ever since his shamefaced entrance, to Aunt Mary's side."Wonderful, Miss Norman!" he cried.Aunt Mary smiled at him--her first smile in that scene. "Thank you, Arthur," she said.But she added instantly to Rockwell:"See if George isthere. Telephone. He must be by now. Then you and Arthur must take a taxi and go after him and bring him back here. The number is Harrison 3731."Rockwell turned back to the telephone.Merriam walked over to Mollie June and put his hands on the back of the chair in which she had been sitting prior to the entrance of Alicia."Hadn't you better sit down?" he said."Yes, if you'll move it up a little." She wanted to be closer to the rest of the group.He pushed the chair forward, and she sat and smiled up at him:"Thank you!"A woman's eyes are never so appealingly beautiful as in a quick upward glance. Merriam fell suddenly more deeply in love with her than he had ever been. And he was for the moment very happy. There was something between them, something very slight, as tenuous and as innocent as youth itself, but existent and precious.Rockwell turned from the telephone."He's notthere," he said, "and he's not been there."(There was a tacit conspiracy among them, on account of Mollie June, not to refer more definitely to George's destination.)"Not!" exclaimed Aunt Mary. Like the men, she was still standing. She looked at Alicia. "The driver was instructed to go directly there?""Yes," said Alicia. Then she added in a low tone:"The driver was Simpson.""Simpson!" Aunt Mary echoed. "That's dangerous. Why didn't you tell me that before?"The reader will have guessed the explanation of Aunt Mary's presence, and Alicia's and Father Murray's, and I insert it here only to gratify his sense of acumen: that Alicia and Murray, "keeping an eye on" Mollie June and Aunt Mary in accordance with Rockwell's plan, in the hotel lobby, had witnessed the former's unexpected departure in response to Merriam's summons, and had joined Miss Norman to find out what had happened; and that Aunt Mary, who was more than a match for both of them, especially in their alarm over Mollie June's being dragged into the affair, had obtained first an inkling and presently the whole story of the plot, and had insisted on coming upstairs, and had entered through the bedroom.Alicia did not reply to Aunt Mary's question. Indeed she hardly had time to do so, for Aunt Mary followed it quickly with another of a more practical character:"What time is it?"Merriam was the most prompt in producing his watch. "Ten o'clock," he said."And it was barely eight when George left the hotel. How long should it have taken to get there?""Less than half an hour," said Rockwell."Are you sure he's not there? They might have lied to you.""They might. But I didn't think so.""Mr. Rockwell and I can go and see," volunteered Father Murray, who seemed very eager to be helpful.While Aunt Mary was considering this suggestion, Merriam had an idea."My voice is very like Senator Norman's?" he asked."Yes, it is," said Aunt Mary."Then let me telephone.""Good!" cried Rockwell. "From the bedroom." This was, of course, to spare Mollie June."Very well," said Aunt Mary.The two men stepped into George Norman's bedroom--the one into which Mollie June had earlier retreated. As they did so, Aunt Mary's eyes followed Merriam with the appraising look which they had held whenever she regarded him throughout the evening.Rockwell shut the door."Harrison 3731," he said. "Say, 'This is George Norman,' and ask for 'Jennie.'"The telephone was on the night table. Merriam sat down on the edge of the bed and raised the instrument. He realised that he had not the slightest idea what to expect. Rockwell sat beside him, close enough to hear what should come through the receiver.In a moment Merriam had the connection. A not unmusical voice said: "Who is it, please?""This is George Norman. Is Jennie there?""Why, Georgie, boy! Don't you know me? You always do. And you ought to!" A tender little laugh followed, which thrilled Merriam in spite of himself."I didn't at first," he answered and stopped at a loss.Rockwell put his mouth close to Merriam's ear and formed a tunnel from the one orifice to the other with his hands. "Can I see you to-night, dearie?" he prompted."Can I see you to-night, dearie?" Merriam obediently repeated."Oh, can you come? Goodie! But"--the unmistakably loving voice was lowered--"you must be careful, Georgie.""Careful?" Merriam queried cautiously."Yes. Some one thinks you're here already.""Who?""I don't know. Some man. He wouldn't tell me who he was. He called up just a minute ago. He was awfully sure you were here. He wouldn't believe me when I said you weren't. Is it dangerous?" There was a touching note of anxiety in Jennie's voice."I guess not.""Can you come anyway?" eagerly."I'm not sure. Don't wait for me long. I'll come within an hour if I can get away.""You'll telephone again?""Yes--if I can.""Georgie, boy!" There followed a little sound of lips moved in a certain way--unmistakably a kiss.John Merriam played up with an effectiveness that surprised himself very much."Dearie!" he whispered tenderly into the telephone, "good night!"--and abruptly hung up."You don't need much prompting!" exclaimed Rockwell, rising. "Well, she didn't lie to me.""No," Merriam assented confusedly. Whatever else he had anticipated from Norman's mistress, the disreputable manicurist, it had not been that note of sincere affection or that he himself would be for an instant carried off his feet. As he automatically followed Rockwell, who made for the sitting room, he was unwillingly conscious of a new charity for George Norman."He's not there," Rockwell reported. "And he hasn't been.""Sure?" Aunt Mary looked at Merriam.Our hero nodded. He could not speak. And he dared not look at Mollie June, of whose bright eyes fixed on his face he was nevertheless acutely aware.In a moment, however, it was of Aunt Mary's gaze that he was sensible. She seemed to read him through. He thought, ridiculously, that that momentary telephonic tenderness could not be hid from her.But when she spoke her question both relieved and startled him."At what hour in the morning does your train go?""It goes to-night. At 2:00 A.M.""If George is back here by then, it does," said Aunt Mary. "If not, you stay.""But Imustgo to-night," cried Merriam, suddenly awakened to realities and feeling as though the curtain had descended abruptly on some mad combination of melodrama and farce. "I must meet my classes in the morning!"Aunt Mary, who must have sat down while the two men were telephoning, rose and walked up to Merriam."Mr. Merriam," she said, "you more than any one else are responsible for the present situation--because of your sending for Mrs. Norman. I don't ask why you did that, but you did it. If you hadn't stepped outside your part that way, I verily believe, when I look at you, that the trick could have been played as Mr. Rockwell planned it. The Mayor would not have seen Crockett downstairs. I don't believe he would have recognised you. He would have signed the Ordinance and gone away committed and ignorant of the deception. Now he's only half committed, and he has recognised you as an impostor. If he doesn't hear from George Norman by noon to-morrow as I promised, if he turns against us and tells his story, he can ruin us--all." (She said "all," but she glanced at Mollie June.) "And now we don't know where George is. As soon as we find him, you can go. But Mayor Black must get a message from Senator Norman before noon to-morrow--from the true one or the false one! Do you see? Until we find George you must stay.""Yes, by Jove!" cried Rockwell. "You can't back out now. You can telegraph to--where is it?""Riceville," said Alicia, who was leaning excitedly forward in her chair. "Oh, you will!"Merriam looked at Alicia. The same combination of appeal and admiration in her eyes which he had seen her work a few minutes before on the Mayor did not move him.His eyes travelled to the face of Mollie June. She was not leaning forward, but sat erect on the edge of her chair. There was a flush of excitement--was it eagerness?--on her cheeks. Unwillingly he compared her with the warm seductiveness of the voice on the telephone. She was not like that,--though perhaps she could be. But she was radiantly bright and pure, a girl, a woman, to be worshipped--and protected from all evil. He remembered how he had wished to help her. He had said he would be always ready. Now was his chance. And he desired passionately to expiate his involuntary infidelity of feeling and tone over the telephone. He rose superior to the cares, the duties, of a "professor," even before she spoke."Oh, please--Mr. Merriam," she said.Merriam smiled at her, but looked back at Aunt Mary."You think it very necessary?" he asked--not because he had not decided but to avoid any shadow of compromising Mollie June by seeming to yield directly to her."I do," said Aunt Mary."Then of course I'll stay," said Merriam.
CHAPTER VIII
PASSAGES WITH MAYOR BLACK
Mayor of the great city of Chicago was hurriedly apologetic:
"I beg your pardon, Senator. You said eight-thirty, you know, and it's that now. I came up and knocked. Evidently you did not hear. A man I met in the lobby told me that you had left the hotel in a taxi half an hour ago. He said he saw you go. So I tried the door and when it opened stepped in, just to make sure. I am sorry to have intruded."
Apparently, however, he did not intend to withdraw.
Mollie June crouched frightened in her chair, but Merriam was rapidly pulling himself together.
"It is I who should apologise for keeping you waiting, Mayor Black," he said. "I will ask Mrs. Norman to excuse us. Will you step into the next room for a few minutes, Mollie June? We shall not be long."
He went back to her chair and held out his hand.
She took it and rose. Her spirit, too, was reasserting itself. She faced the Mayor with a smile:
"Good evening, Mr. Black."
"Good evening, Mrs. Norman." He bowed gallantly. "I am very sorry----"
"Oh," she cried lightly, one would have said happily, "business is business, I know." Then to Merriam: "You won't belong?"
"Only a minute--dear."
(Perhaps we can hardly blame him for profiting by the license his rôle gave him to address her so.)
He moved to the door opposite to that through which Rockwell had slipped away fifteen minutes earlier and opened it for her. She passed through into the darkness of the other room. He felt for the switch and pushed it.
As the light went on she turned and smiled at him:
"Thank you."
For an instant it seemed to him--perhaps to both of them--that she was really his wife, who was leaving him for a few minutes only, whom he would soon rejoin.
Then he turned to face Mayor Black.
"I need stay only a minute, Senator," the Mayor was saying. "If I had known you were engaged with Mrs. Norman, I shouldn't have bothered you. It wasn't really necessary. I met Mr. Crockett downstairs while I was waiting. He told me the answer. But since I had the engagement with you I came up. If I may, I'll write the veto right here, and then I can go on to the Council meeting."
As he spoke he drew a thick roll of paper from his overcoat pocket, unfolded it, opened it at the last sheet, and laid it on a small writing table.
"I shan't give any reasons," he added, sitting down and picking up a pen. "Least said, soonest mended--eh, Senator?"
"But you're not to veto! You're to sign!" cried Merriam.
Perhaps if he had more fully grasped the significance of the other's statement about Mr. Crockett he would have been less abrupt; but that mighty financier was only a dim name to his mind.
"What?" said Black, turning in his chair.
The Mayor's tone gave Merriam some realisation of the seriousness of the new situation. But he could only stand to his guns.
"You're tosign! I don't care what Crockett said. I don't care a damn what he said," he corrected himself. "You do what I say, damn you!"
"But how is this?" exclaimed the Mayor. "Crockett said you fully agreed that the best interests----"
He stopped, looking intently at Merriam.
In the excitement of the dialogue which had followed Merriam's sending for Mollie June Rockwell had neglected the precaution he had had in mind of having only side lights on. Rockwell had planned, also, that Merriam should sit facing the gas log with his back to the room and look at the Mayor as little as possible. Now the boy stood where the full glare of the chandelier shone on his face. Perhaps, too, the emotions of a youthful love scene, such as he had just passed through, were not the best preparation in the world for counterfeiting the slightly worn cheeks and slightly tired eyes of an elderly if well-preserved politician.
"Who in hell are you?" gasped the Mayor.
Merriam was certainly startled. Perhaps he showed it just a little. But he stood up bravely.
"You know damn well who I am. And you do as I say or get out of Chicago politics. I'll attend to Crockett," he added. "That's my affair."
"Is that so? Well, I guess it's my affair who makes a monkey of me! I----"
Again the Mayor stopped abruptly and stared. Then suddenly he rose.
"I was told the Senator had left the hotel. I think I was correctly informed. What sort of a trick is this? Whoareyou?"
"Damn you----" Merriam began, with realistic sincerity, but with the vaguest ideas as to what more substantial statement should follow.
At this moment, however, Rockwell opened his door and stepped into the room.
"Aha!" cried the Mayor. No stage villain could have said it better. "Mr. Rockwell! Of the Reform League, I believe!" He bowed sardonically. "'One-Thing-at-a-Time Rockwell!' Well, one thing at a time like this"--he pointed at Merriam--"ought to be enough for a reformer!"
"Good evening, Mayor Black," said Rockwell. "I believe you were about to sign the Ordinance."
"I wasnot. In spite of theSenatorhere. I don't get a chance to defy Senator Norman every day. I rather enjoy it!--And let me tell you," he added, "if you and your friends in that damned League make any more trouble for me or Senator Norman or the Ordinance or anything else after this--if you don't shut up and lie low and keep pretty damn quiet, we'll show you up, my boy. This would make a pretty little story for the newspapers--and for the State's Attorney, too! We might call it 'The Ethics of Reform!' Oh, we have you where we want you now, Mr. Reformer! As for this young impostor here, we'll have to look him up a bit. A very promising young gentleman!"
The Mayor evidently enjoyed the center of the stage. He towered tall and imposing and righteous, and looked triumphantly from Rockwell to Merriam and back again.
"I really think you'd better sign it," said Rockwell. He spoke rather low.
"What do you mean?" cried the Mayor.
Then he thought he saw.
"Oh, it's strong-arm work next, is it?"
There was a note of alarm mingled with his irony, and the magnificence of his pose weakened a little. Rockwell was a determined-looking fellow, and there was Merriam to help him, and the Mayor was not really a very brave man. But he went on talking to save his face:
"You certainly are a jewel of a reformer, Rockwell!"
Then he saw a point and quickly recovered his full grandeur.
"I don't quite see how you're going to manage, though. Of course, if it were a case ofpreventingme from signing, you might do it--the two of you! But signing's rather different, isn't it? You can lead a horse to water---- Of course, you can club me or hold a revolver to my head. But, you see, I know you wouldn't dare to fire a revolver here in this room. So just how will you force my fingers to form the letters? Or perhaps you will try forgery? Is forgery the next act, Mr. Reformer?"
Rockwell smiled. He was in no hurry to reply. Merriam still stood, as he had throughout this unforeseen dialogue, a rigid spectator.
Then, in the moment's silence, very inopportunely, a clock, somewhere outside, struck the hour--a quarter to nine.
Rockwell tried to drown it, saying, "I'm hardly so versatile as that."
But the Mayor had heard and understood.
"Oh, that's it!" he cried.
"Yes, that's it!" said Rockwell, and the center of the stage automatically shifted to him. "If that Ordinance is not returned to the Council with your veto by nine o'clock to-night, it becomes a law whether you sign it or not! You're a bit slow, Mr. Mayor, but you've got it at last!"
The Mayor did not answer. He shifted slightly on his feet. His hand shot out. He grabbed the Ordinance from the waiting table and rushed for the door.
"Catch him!" shouted Rockwell. "Hold him!"
Merriam had been a football player. As if released from a spring he darted after the Mayor. From habit he tackled low. They went down with something of a crash, knocking over an ash stand as they fell, and the Mayor gave a groan. If he had ever known how to fall properly, he had forgotten. Merriam hoped there were no bones broken.
But Rockwell was wasting no thoughts on commiseration. He was kneeling over the fallen ruler of the city with his hands clapped over his mouth--to prevent further groans or other outcry.
"Get the paper!" he said.
Merriam scrambled forward and tried to pull the Ordinance from the hand at the end of the outstretched arm. It was held tight. He was afraid of tearing it.
"Twist his arm," said Rockwell.
A very little twist sufficed. The Mayor gave up. Merriam rose to his feet with the document.
"Will you be quiet?" Rockwell demanded in the Mayor's ear, and released his mouth enough to enable him to answer.
"Yes," said the Mayor feebly. "Let me up."
"All right. That's better. If you make any rumpus we'll down you again, you know, and tie you up and gag you.--Give me the paper," he added to Merriam, "and help him up, will you?"
He stood watching while the younger man assisted the Mayor in the ponderous job of getting on his feet.
"I hope you aren't hurt, sir," said Merriam.
The Mayor looked sourly at him. "Thanks!" He felt of his arms and passed his hands up and down over his ribs. "I guess I'm all right--except my clothes."
In fact his white shirt front was crumpled and his broadcloth coat and trousers were dusty with cigar ash from the fallen stand. Merriam was in little better condition. They were not dressed for football practice. Rockwell only was still immaculate.
"I'll get a brush," said Merriam. No longer a Senator, he felt very boyish and anxious to be useful.
As he spoke he turned to the room--the fall had occurred near the door into the hall--and stopped nonplused. For in her bedroom door stood Mollie June, her eyes full at once of eagerness and of apprehension.
How much she had heard I do not pretend to know. Perhaps some of Merriam's unprofessorial profanity, possibly the Mayor's triumphant irony, certainly Rockwell's shout, "Catch him!" and the fall. Doubtless the silence after that thud had been too much for her self-control.
The Mayor's rueful gaze travelling past Merriam also rested on Mollie June. A light came into his eyes. He drew himself up.
"Come in, Mrs. Norman," he said. "Yourhusband"--with a significant emphasis on the word--"has been giving a demonstration of his athletic prowess. He is indeed the Boy Senator and a suitable mate for a woman as young and pretty as yourself."
He paid no attention to Merriam's angry and threatening glance but turned to Rockwell.
"Mr. Rockwell," he said, "I think you'd better give me that Ordinance after all."
Rockwell spoke in a low tone to Merriam:
"Get her out!"
The Mayor had no objection to that. The older men watched while Merriam walked rapidly across the room to Mollie June.
"You'd better go into the other room again, dear," he said.
But Mollie June's eyes were bright and her colour high and her white shoulders very straight.
"No!" she said.
"You really will oblige us greatly, Mrs. Norman," said the Mayor, "if you will withdraw for a moment longer."
"No!" said Mollie June. "This is my room. I have a right to be here. And I don't like scuffling."
She cast a disdainful glance at their crumpled shirts and dusty trousers. And, womanlike, she sought a diversion.
"What a mess you are in!" she cried. "Mr.--George,--get the whisk broom from the bedroom there!"
It was an almost haughty command. And Merriam rejoiced to obey this new mistress of the situation. He darted into the bedroom.
The two older men looked at each other. Rockwell was content: time was passing. When the Mayor started to speak he forestalled him.
"She's really right," he said. "You can't leave like this. And some one might come in."
Merriam was back with the whisk broom.
"Come under the light," ordered Mollie June, addressing the Mayor.
That dignitary reluctantly advanced.
"Turn around. Now, George, brush him."
Merriam sought diligently to remove the ashes from the Mayor's garments. It required vigorous work, for the dust was rubbed deeply into the cloth. Mollie June superintended closely. The Mayor had to turn about several times and raise an arm and then the other arm. He could not make much progress in the regaining of his dignity; and he, no less than Rockwell, was conscious of the fleeing moments. But, glancing again and again at Mollie June, girlishly imperious and intent, he could not as yet muster his brutality for what he saw the next move in his game must be. Rockwell waited serenely in the background, the Ordinance in his hand.
At last the Mayor's broadcloth was fairly presentable. Nothing could be done, of course, with his shirt front.
"Now, George," said Mollie June, "it's your turn. Give me the broom."
"No, no!"
"Give me the broom!" She took it from his hand. "Turn around!"
And with her own hands and in the manner of wifely solicitude she began to dust his collar and lapels.
This was not unpleasant for Merriam, but it prompted the Mayor to take his cue. As he watched his eyes hardened, and in a moment he said:
"You take good care of yourhusband, don't you, Mrs. Norman?"
"I try to," said Mollie June rather pertly, dusting away. Evidently she had not heard enough to know that Merriam had been found out.
"It must be pleasant," said the Mayor, "to have such a niceyounghusband."
Mollie June stopped her work and looked at him in sudden alarm.
"What do you mean?" she said.
Rockwell stepped forward and caught her arm:
"Let me lead you into the next room, Mrs. Norman. You must let us talk with the Mayor."
"No!" she cried, snatching her arm away, and turning eyes of angry innocence on Mayor Black, "What do you mean?"
"I mean," he said, with smiling suavity--he was not to be daunted now, and, short of violence there was no way of stopping him,--"that you are a young woman. This gentleman--whose name I do not have the honour of knowing--is also young, and rather handsome. The Senator, of course, is getting old. I find you two alone in your husband's rooms, your husband having been tricked away. You can hardly expect me to believe that you mistook him for your husband. You display no dislike for his person. I draw my own conclusions. Every one in Chicago will draw the same conclusions if this interesting situation, quite worthy of Boccaccio, should become known. That's why I think"--he turned suddenly to Rockwell--"that you'd better give me the Ordinance after all."
Mollie June's cheeks were blazing. Merriam's also; he could not look at her. But Rockwell pulled his watch from his pocket.
"It is now two minutes past nine," he said. "The Ordinance has become law. You can have it now, Mr. Mayor." He held out the document.
The Mayor snatched it.
"It's not legal!" he cried. "And it won't stand. I can prove that I was prevented by foul means--by foul means," he repeated, "from exercising my charter right of veto. I'll take out an injunction, and I'll fight it to the Supreme Court. And in the process all Chicago--the whole United States--shall be entertained with the piquant story of these young people"--he waved a hand towards Merriam and Mollie June,--"aided and abetted by Mr. Reformer Rockwell. I'll ruin them, and you and your League, whatever else comes of it. Oh, you're a clever lot, you--you reformers!"
He paused out of breath. Then, dramatically, for he was always self-conscious and inclined to pose:
"Madame and gentlemen!"--but the effectiveness of his bow was somewhat marred by the sorry state of his shirt front--"I wish you a very good evening!"
But Rockwell was before him with his back to the hall door.
"You've forgotten your hat, Mayor," he said.
(In fact, his tall hat still stood on the writing table where he had set it down before he spread out the Ordinance there to write his veto.)
"Damn my hat! Let me go!"
"Presently, presently. I still think you'd better sign the Ordinance."
"Do you mean to knock me down again?"
"I'd like nothing better, you--cad!" cried Merriam, who had stood bursting with outrage a minute longer than he could endure.
The Mayor almost jumped at the savage sincerity of this threat in his rear. Rockwell smiled at the startled look on his face, but he spoke quietly:
"No violence. I hope to convince you that it would be to your best interests to sign it. Since it has become a law anyway."
"Never!" cried the Mayor. "Do you think I would be a traitor to--to--my party? And I mean to get even with this gang, whatever else I do!"
But the next instant he jumped indeed. A new voice spoke--a woman's.
"Mayor Black," it said, "you're a fool!"
CHAPTER IX
AUNT MARY
All four of the actors in the little scene turned, and Mollie June uttered an exclamation:
"Aunt Mary!"
In the doorway from which Rockwell had emerged a few minutes earlier stood the thin, pale, elderly woman whom Merriam had seen with Mollie June in the Peacock Cabaret. She wore a black evening gown, rather too heavily overlaid with jet, was tall and very erect, and had streaked gray hair, a Roman nose, and a firm mouth. The effect as she stood there, framed in the door, was decidedly striking--sibylline.
Mollie June ran to her.
"Oh, Aunt Mary!" she cried.
Merriam was afraid that Mollie June would burst into tears. Very possibly she would have liked to do so, but Aunt Mary gave her no opportunity.
"Lock the door, Mr. Rockwell," she said, putting an arm about Mollie June's waist. Her tone and manner were vigorous and dominant.
"Good evening, Mr. Black," she continued, while Rockwell hastened to obey her. And to Merriam: "Good evening, Mr.--Wilson. Now I think we had better all sit down and talk it over."
"I can't," said the Mayor. "I'm late for the Council meeting already. I've been shamefully tricked, Miss Norman."
"I think you have," returned Aunt Mary, releasing Mollie June and advancing a step or two into the room. "But that's the very reason why you need to consider your position at once. You're in a mess. So are we. Perhaps we can help each other out. The Council can wait. 'Phone them that you've been detained. They can go ahead, I suppose. Really, Mr. Black, I see a point or two in this business that I think will interest you."
Mayor Black met Mary Norman's direct, purposeful gaze. He was impressed by her air of command and intelligence. He recalled gossip to the effect that it was really she who ran George Norman's campaigns, that she even wrote some of his speeches.
"Very well," he said, "I'll stay ten minutes. Never mind 'phoning."
"Good," said Aunt Mary. "There are seats for all of us, I believe. Take that one, Mayor."
She indicated the large armchair with the rose-coloured tapestry in which Mollie June had been ensconced half an hour before, and laid her own hand on the back of the smaller one close by in which Merriam had sat.
Then she turned to Mollie June:
"Do you wish to leave us, dear, or to stay?"
"I'll stay!" said Mollie June. Her colour was still high, and the glance she threw in the Mayor's direction was distinctly hostile, but she had recovered her self-control. We shall be able to forgive young Merriam a throb of admiration at her spirit.
"Very well," said Aunt Mary. "Sit over there, then. Mr.--Wilson," she added, to Merriam, "on that table yonder you will find a humidor. Pass the cigars, please. And pick up that ash stand and set it here by the Mayor."
She and the Mayor and Mollie June sat down. Rockwell remained standing. Merriam, though somewhat confused at having turned from Norman into Wilson, hastened to do as he was bid. He picked up the ash stand, straightening the box of matches into place, and brought it and set it by the Mayor's chair. Then he got the humidor, opened its heavy lid, and passed the gold-banded perfectos therein to the Mayor and to Rockwell.
"Are you leaving me out, young man?" demanded Aunt Mary, who had watched him in appraising silence.
Merriam turned to her with the humidor, hesitating.
"There don't seem to be any cigarettes," he said.
"I have some in my pocket."
But Aunt Mary leaned forward and took from the humidor a package of "little cigars" that had been slipped in at one end of the box of perfectos.
"No cigarettes for me," she said. "I smoke when I'm with men so as to be one of them. A cigarette leaves me a woman. A cigar, even one of these little ones, makes a man of me. Give me a match, please."
With what seemed to himself amazing self-control, Merriam took a match from the ash stand, struck it, and would have held the light for her. But Aunt Mary took it from him and, looking all the while amazingly like his own mother, deliberately and efficiently ignited the "little cigar."
Then she looked up quizzically at Merriam, blew out the match, handed it to him, and said, "Sit down, Mr. Wilson."
Having seated himself, Merriam found Aunt Mary looking intently at the Mayor, who was smoking and returning her gaze.
But Rockwell broke in:
"How much do you know, Miss Norman? And how do you know it?"
"As to how I know it," said Aunt Mary, "that's my own business for the present. Not because there need be any secret about it, but because we haven't time for explanations." She puffed at her little cigar. "As to how much I know, I believe I understand the whole affair--except how Mrs. Norman came into it." She looked at Rockwell.
That gentleman did not reply. Merriam broke the silence:
"I sent for her."
He said it very well--not defiantly, but as a plain, necessary statement of fact.
Aunt Mary turned in her chair to look at him.
"Ah!" she said.
He felt that he was colouring under her gaze. Perhaps that colour answered her obvious next question as to why he had done so. She did not ask that question, but turned back to the Mayor:
"I overheard a little of your conversation from the doorway before I spoke. Mr. Rockwell was saying he thought that, as things stand now, it would be best for you to sign the Ordinance. I think so too."
The Mayor would have interrupted, but she waved her little cigar at him.
"You can, of course," she continued, "explain that you were tricked. But how much would that help you with Mr. Crockett or any of his cronies and allies? They would only think the worse of you and throw you over the more quickly. A man of your age and standing cannot afford to be tricked. If he is, he had better conceal the fact. And how about the people of Chicago, before whom you come up for reëlection in the fall? Will their sympathies be with you or with the persons who tricked you into giving them the Ordinance they wanted? The American people love a clever trick. And a trick is clever if it succeeds. As for the illegality, they won't care a picayune for that. You said you would fight it in the courts. Well, you might. But it would be a long fight. You yourself mentioned the Supreme Court. And in the meantime it is a law and goes into effect at once. Unless, of course, you take out an injunction. And if you do that, you will make yourself so unpopular that you can never even be nominated again. Let us suppose it goes into effect. Then by the time your fight was won, if you won it, the new conditions would be established, and nobody would dare try to unscramble the eggs. The Council would simply have to pass it over again, and you--or your successor, rather, for you would be out by then--would promptly sign it. No, my friend, there is no road for you in that direction. You would lose out both ways--with the bosses, who would have no more use for a man who had allowed himself to be fooled at a critical juncture, and with the people. Your only chance--unless you wish to retire quickly and ignominiously to private life--is to cut loose from the bosses and throw in your lot with the people--sign the Ordinance, claim the credit, join forces with Rockwell here, defy Crockett, and come out as the people's champion!"
The Mayor was not smoking. He was looking hard at Aunt Mary, as one man looks at another. (Her little cigar had effected that.) There was aroused interest in his eyes.
"Wouldn't you rather like to go into politics as your own boss for a change?" Aunt Mary asked. "Rather than as one miserable little cog in a big, dirty machine?"
The Mayor flushed a little and took refuge behind a puff of smoke.
"Perhaps I would," he said. Then, suddenly: "How about Senator Norman? Do I defy him too?"
"Not at all," said Aunt Mary. "He also will go over to the people."
"Can you answer for him?"
"I think I can. He will be forced to do so in the same way you are. He too has been victimised."
She leaned forward and deposited her small cigar, of which she had really smoked very little, in the ash tray. Sitting erect, she folded her hands in her lap and became forthwith a woman again--a sedate, almost prim, elderly woman.
"That," she explained simply, "is the source of my interest in this matter. I like you, Mayor Black, because you have some of the courtliness of the old school in your manner. I should be sorry to see you in misfortune. But I care much more, naturally, for my brother, George Norman, and more still for the name of Norman"--from her tone she might have referred to the Deity,--"which has been an honourable name in this country for eight generations, and which George, with his spoils politics and his dissipations, is compromising. I have long wanted him to break with his present associates, to live straight, and to become a real leader, as the Normans were in New York State in the early years of the last century. I have tried again and again to get him to do so. Over and over he has promised me he would. But he is weak. He has never done it. Now he will have to do it!"
All the members of the little group looked with some admiration, I fancy, at Aunt Mary, sitting straight, an incarnation of aristocratic, elderly femininity, in her chair. Where a moment or two before she had been an unsexed modern, she looked now like an old family portrait.
Rockwell broke the momentary silence:
"Miss Norman has presented, so much better than I could have done, the argument which I tried to suggest to Mr. Black."
It was probably unfortunate that Rockwell had recalled attention to himself. The Mayor glanced at him with animosity, and at the silent Merriam, and over at Mollie June, listening eagerly in the background. Then at Aunt Mary again. He leaned back, pulling at his cigar, thinking hard.
In the silence a slight noise became audible from the bedroom behind Aunt Mary--a word or two of whispering and then a sound as if some one tiptoeing had stumbled a little.
The Mayor jumped to his feet.
"Who's there?" he cried, pointing.
For an instant Aunt Mary was out of countenance. But only for an instant. Then, without rising or turning her head, she called:
"Come in, Alicia."
A moment's silence. Then a laugh, of a premeditated sweetness which Merriam remembered, and Alicia Wayward stood in the doorway.
The Mayor and Merriam rose. Mollie June, too, jumped up. Only Aunt Mary remained calmly seated.
After a second's pause in the effective framing of the door, Alicia advanced with an air of eager pleasure and held out her hand to the Mayor.
"Good evening, Mr. Black."
The Mayor was a very susceptible male where women like Alicia were concerned. He took her hand.
"Good evening, Miss Wayward." But, still holding the hand, he looked steadily at her and asked, "Who else is in there?"
"Who else?" repeated Alicia, raising her pretty dark eyebrows.
"Or were you whispering to yourself?" pursued the Mayor.
Alicia laughed and drew her hand away. "It's only Father Murray." Then, raising her voice a little: "You'll have to come in, Father Murray, to save my reputation. This is really all of us," she added, as the priest rather sheepishly presented himself. "You can search the room if you like."
She smiled at him in the manner which novelists commonly describe as roguish.
The Mayor smiled back at her, but he turned to the latest arrival.
"Were you in this plot, too, Father Murray?"
"Indeed he was," Alicia answered for him. "He didn't quite approve of it at first. But we quite easily converted him. So, you see, it can't be so black as it first seemed to you, Mr. Mayor. And really," she hurried on, "you ought to do as Miss Norman suggests. It's a splendid chance for you. To really be a--a Man, you know! And I can help."
"How can you help?" asked the Mayor.
"I am quite sure," said Alicia, "that I can get my father to subscribe quite a lot of money--a hundred thousand dollars, say--to your campaign fund--yours and Senator Norman's and the Reform League's."
"Is Mr. Wayward so keen on reform? I should think he had had nearly enough of it. They've practically put him out of business, these reformers."
"He's rather keen on me, you know," said Alicia. "And he likes Mollie June and Miss Norman and George Norman and----"
"Father Murray, I suppose," interrupted the Mayor, "and anybody else you can think of. You mean you can get it out of him." But his appreciative smile made a compliment of the accusation.
Alicia only raised her eyebrows again.
Aunt Mary rose and took the reins of business into her own hands once more.
"I should be willing to subscribe something, too, out of my own income," she said. "And the League can raise plenty of money. You won't lack for funds. Here's my proposition, Mr. Black. You lie low and keep still till noon to-morrow. Don't go to the Council meeting at all. Keep the Ordinance in your own possession. Refuse to see any one. See what the papers say in the morning. And wait for a message from George Norman. If by noon to-morrow he telephones you that he will go with you, will you go over to the League, sign the Ordinance, break with Crockett and the rest of them, and appeal to the people on your own?"
The Mayor looked from Aunt Mary to Alicia's appealing and admiring eyes and back at Aunt Mary. He avoided Rockwell and Merriam and Mollie June.
"That's fair enough," he said. "I'll do that." Then: "You know where Norman is, do you?"
"Yes," said Aunt Mary. It was plain, however, that she did not intend to communicate the information.
"And what becomes of this young gentleman?" The Mayor looked at Merriam.
"He will disappear where he came from."
"Well, well," said the Mayor genially, "it has been a very stimulating evening. Rather like a play. You have certainly put me in a box. But I'll admit I'm interested in your suggestion, Miss Norman. I'll think it over carefully. Now I believe I'll call a taxi."
"Let me," said Rockwell, and he stepped to the telephone.
The Mayor addressed himself to Merriam:
"Will you bring me my hat, Mr.--Wilson?"
Merriam was near the writing table on which the hat stood. He picked it up and brought it.
"The resemblance is marvellously close," said the Mayor, studying his face. "And you did your part very well, young man. But let me advise you to keep away from the neighbourhood of Senator Norman. You might get into serious trouble."
Merriam did not reply or smile but handed him the hat.
"There's a taxi ready," said Rockwell, turning from the telephone into which he had been speaking.
"Thank you," said the Mayor. He looked at Mollie June, who stood some distance from him:
"I hope you will forgive me, Mrs. Norman, for my--rudeness earlier this evening. I am afraid I was too angry then to know what I was saying."
Like Merriam, Mollie June did not answer or smile. Possibly she was imitating his demeanour. But she bowed slightly.
"Really," interjected Alicia, "Mollie June had never seen Mr.--Mr. Wilson since before she was married until five minutes before you came in."
"Quite so. Of course," said the Mayor. He held out his hand to Aunt Mary. "You are a wonderful woman, Miss Norman."
"George shall telephone before noon," she replied, shaking hands like a man.
"Till then at least you can depend on me."
He turned to Alicia.
Alicia kept his hand a long minute. "We have always liked you, Mr. Black--we women," she said. "In your new rôle we shall admire you so much!"
"I would do much to win your admiration," returned the Mayor, somewhat guardedly gallant. "Good night, Father Murray. Good night, Rockwell--you precious reformer! Good night, Mr. Wilson. That's only a stage name, isn't it? Well, good night, all!"
The suave politician bowed himself out.
CHAPTER X
A SENATOR MISSING
The members of the group that remained looked at one another. Alicia dropped into a chair.
"Whew!" she said.
Father Murray crossed quickly from the doorway, where he had stood silent ever since his shamefaced entrance, to Aunt Mary's side.
"Wonderful, Miss Norman!" he cried.
Aunt Mary smiled at him--her first smile in that scene. "Thank you, Arthur," she said.
But she added instantly to Rockwell:
"See if George isthere. Telephone. He must be by now. Then you and Arthur must take a taxi and go after him and bring him back here. The number is Harrison 3731."
Rockwell turned back to the telephone.
Merriam walked over to Mollie June and put his hands on the back of the chair in which she had been sitting prior to the entrance of Alicia.
"Hadn't you better sit down?" he said.
"Yes, if you'll move it up a little." She wanted to be closer to the rest of the group.
He pushed the chair forward, and she sat and smiled up at him:
"Thank you!"
A woman's eyes are never so appealingly beautiful as in a quick upward glance. Merriam fell suddenly more deeply in love with her than he had ever been. And he was for the moment very happy. There was something between them, something very slight, as tenuous and as innocent as youth itself, but existent and precious.
Rockwell turned from the telephone.
"He's notthere," he said, "and he's not been there."
(There was a tacit conspiracy among them, on account of Mollie June, not to refer more definitely to George's destination.)
"Not!" exclaimed Aunt Mary. Like the men, she was still standing. She looked at Alicia. "The driver was instructed to go directly there?"
"Yes," said Alicia. Then she added in a low tone:
"The driver was Simpson."
"Simpson!" Aunt Mary echoed. "That's dangerous. Why didn't you tell me that before?"
The reader will have guessed the explanation of Aunt Mary's presence, and Alicia's and Father Murray's, and I insert it here only to gratify his sense of acumen: that Alicia and Murray, "keeping an eye on" Mollie June and Aunt Mary in accordance with Rockwell's plan, in the hotel lobby, had witnessed the former's unexpected departure in response to Merriam's summons, and had joined Miss Norman to find out what had happened; and that Aunt Mary, who was more than a match for both of them, especially in their alarm over Mollie June's being dragged into the affair, had obtained first an inkling and presently the whole story of the plot, and had insisted on coming upstairs, and had entered through the bedroom.
Alicia did not reply to Aunt Mary's question. Indeed she hardly had time to do so, for Aunt Mary followed it quickly with another of a more practical character:
"What time is it?"
Merriam was the most prompt in producing his watch. "Ten o'clock," he said.
"And it was barely eight when George left the hotel. How long should it have taken to get there?"
"Less than half an hour," said Rockwell.
"Are you sure he's not there? They might have lied to you."
"They might. But I didn't think so."
"Mr. Rockwell and I can go and see," volunteered Father Murray, who seemed very eager to be helpful.
While Aunt Mary was considering this suggestion, Merriam had an idea.
"My voice is very like Senator Norman's?" he asked.
"Yes, it is," said Aunt Mary.
"Then let me telephone."
"Good!" cried Rockwell. "From the bedroom." This was, of course, to spare Mollie June.
"Very well," said Aunt Mary.
The two men stepped into George Norman's bedroom--the one into which Mollie June had earlier retreated. As they did so, Aunt Mary's eyes followed Merriam with the appraising look which they had held whenever she regarded him throughout the evening.
Rockwell shut the door.
"Harrison 3731," he said. "Say, 'This is George Norman,' and ask for 'Jennie.'"
The telephone was on the night table. Merriam sat down on the edge of the bed and raised the instrument. He realised that he had not the slightest idea what to expect. Rockwell sat beside him, close enough to hear what should come through the receiver.
In a moment Merriam had the connection. A not unmusical voice said: "Who is it, please?"
"This is George Norman. Is Jennie there?"
"Why, Georgie, boy! Don't you know me? You always do. And you ought to!" A tender little laugh followed, which thrilled Merriam in spite of himself.
"I didn't at first," he answered and stopped at a loss.
Rockwell put his mouth close to Merriam's ear and formed a tunnel from the one orifice to the other with his hands. "Can I see you to-night, dearie?" he prompted.
"Can I see you to-night, dearie?" Merriam obediently repeated.
"Oh, can you come? Goodie! But"--the unmistakably loving voice was lowered--"you must be careful, Georgie."
"Careful?" Merriam queried cautiously.
"Yes. Some one thinks you're here already."
"Who?"
"I don't know. Some man. He wouldn't tell me who he was. He called up just a minute ago. He was awfully sure you were here. He wouldn't believe me when I said you weren't. Is it dangerous?" There was a touching note of anxiety in Jennie's voice.
"I guess not."
"Can you come anyway?" eagerly.
"I'm not sure. Don't wait for me long. I'll come within an hour if I can get away."
"You'll telephone again?"
"Yes--if I can."
"Georgie, boy!" There followed a little sound of lips moved in a certain way--unmistakably a kiss.
John Merriam played up with an effectiveness that surprised himself very much.
"Dearie!" he whispered tenderly into the telephone, "good night!"--and abruptly hung up.
"You don't need much prompting!" exclaimed Rockwell, rising. "Well, she didn't lie to me."
"No," Merriam assented confusedly. Whatever else he had anticipated from Norman's mistress, the disreputable manicurist, it had not been that note of sincere affection or that he himself would be for an instant carried off his feet. As he automatically followed Rockwell, who made for the sitting room, he was unwillingly conscious of a new charity for George Norman.
"He's not there," Rockwell reported. "And he hasn't been."
"Sure?" Aunt Mary looked at Merriam.
Our hero nodded. He could not speak. And he dared not look at Mollie June, of whose bright eyes fixed on his face he was nevertheless acutely aware.
In a moment, however, it was of Aunt Mary's gaze that he was sensible. She seemed to read him through. He thought, ridiculously, that that momentary telephonic tenderness could not be hid from her.
But when she spoke her question both relieved and startled him.
"At what hour in the morning does your train go?"
"It goes to-night. At 2:00 A.M."
"If George is back here by then, it does," said Aunt Mary. "If not, you stay."
"But Imustgo to-night," cried Merriam, suddenly awakened to realities and feeling as though the curtain had descended abruptly on some mad combination of melodrama and farce. "I must meet my classes in the morning!"
Aunt Mary, who must have sat down while the two men were telephoning, rose and walked up to Merriam.
"Mr. Merriam," she said, "you more than any one else are responsible for the present situation--because of your sending for Mrs. Norman. I don't ask why you did that, but you did it. If you hadn't stepped outside your part that way, I verily believe, when I look at you, that the trick could have been played as Mr. Rockwell planned it. The Mayor would not have seen Crockett downstairs. I don't believe he would have recognised you. He would have signed the Ordinance and gone away committed and ignorant of the deception. Now he's only half committed, and he has recognised you as an impostor. If he doesn't hear from George Norman by noon to-morrow as I promised, if he turns against us and tells his story, he can ruin us--all." (She said "all," but she glanced at Mollie June.) "And now we don't know where George is. As soon as we find him, you can go. But Mayor Black must get a message from Senator Norman before noon to-morrow--from the true one or the false one! Do you see? Until we find George you must stay."
"Yes, by Jove!" cried Rockwell. "You can't back out now. You can telegraph to--where is it?"
"Riceville," said Alicia, who was leaning excitedly forward in her chair. "Oh, you will!"
Merriam looked at Alicia. The same combination of appeal and admiration in her eyes which he had seen her work a few minutes before on the Mayor did not move him.
His eyes travelled to the face of Mollie June. She was not leaning forward, but sat erect on the edge of her chair. There was a flush of excitement--was it eagerness?--on her cheeks. Unwillingly he compared her with the warm seductiveness of the voice on the telephone. She was not like that,--though perhaps she could be. But she was radiantly bright and pure, a girl, a woman, to be worshipped--and protected from all evil. He remembered how he had wished to help her. He had said he would be always ready. Now was his chance. And he desired passionately to expiate his involuntary infidelity of feeling and tone over the telephone. He rose superior to the cares, the duties, of a "professor," even before she spoke.
"Oh, please--Mr. Merriam," she said.
Merriam smiled at her, but looked back at Aunt Mary.
"You think it very necessary?" he asked--not because he had not decided but to avoid any shadow of compromising Mollie June by seeming to yield directly to her.
"I do," said Aunt Mary.
"Then of course I'll stay," said Merriam.