CHAPTER XXIIIRETURN"Madison and Wabash!" shouted the guard.Merriam started, picked up his camera, and made for the door. He had scarcely heard the other stations called and thanked his stars that he had waked up for this one.He descended the stairs from the Elevated platform and found Simpson waiting."Good morning, Simpson.""Good morning.""Mr. Rockwell says you can get me into the hotel unnoticed."Simpson looked at him sideways, hesitated, then turned and started slowly west.Merriam fell into step beside him and for a moment wondered obtusely what ailed the man. Then he understood. Of course! He wanted news of Jennie. Perhaps he was suspicious as to how Merriam might have spent his time in that apartment. Perhaps he, like Margery, knew his Jennie only too well.To set his mind at rest, Merriam plunged at once into a sketchy summary of the events at the flat--Crockett's arrival--"almost as soon as you had left," he placed it--his own telling of his story--Crockett's being half convinced--Jennie's plan--the supper party (without reference to Jennie's change of costume or the dancing on the table)--Rockwell's telephone call--the tying up and the flash lights."I have the films here," he added, exhibiting the camera as tangible evidence that he was not yarning. "Can you get them developed for me in the morning?""Yes," said Simpson, in a much less frigid tone than before. He took the camera."After Crockett had gone," Merriam continued smoothly, "I talked to Jennie about you. I told her she ought to marry you, and how well you've shown up in this affair, and that Senator Norman and Rockwell are going to pay you a bit of money for it, which you've certainly earned, and that you would take her away on a little trip anywhere she wanted to go, and then set up in a business of your own somewhere, and that she would be a lot happier that way than now."An older man, more sensitive to the dynamite in the situation, would probably have spoken less freely and less successfully. Whatever else Simpson may have felt, he could not question his companion's youthful candour and good will. After perhaps a dozen steps he spoke in a carefully controlled voice:"What did she say?""She didn't answer me," lied Merriam. "I told her to think it over. She was impressed all right. And when I left I told Margery I was going to send you around.""What did Margery say?" asked Simpson quickly."She said yes, you should come."Simpson drew a deep breath and stopped short at a corner."I'm very much obliged to you, sir," he said, looking quickly at Merriam and quickly away again.Merriam held out his hand."Good luck!" he said.Simpson grasped the hand and shook it intensely. Then, resuming his really admirable self-control, he said:"We turn down here. I'm going to take you up a fire escape. It's the only way. You can't go into a hotel in the regular way even at this time of night without being seen."They turned into an alley which ran behind the Hotel De Soto, and presently came to a door--a servants' entrance--in the ugly blank wall of yellow brick.Simpson opened the door, and they passed into a bare hallway, pine-floored, plaster-walled, lighted at intervals by unshaded, low-powered incandescents.Many doors of yellow pine opened on both sides of this hall, but Simpson, walking rapidly and quietly, passed them all, turned into a further stretch of hallway, narrower and still more dimly lighted, and stopped before a door of iron--evidently a fire door. He got out a key and unlocked this door, and they emerged into the air again in the inner court of the hotel, a great dismal well, the depository of drifts of soot, accentuated here and there by scraps of paper and other rubbish, and the haunt, for reasons difficult to understand, of the indomitable, grimy wild pigeons of the Loop.Simpson closed the iron door behind them and began a searching scrutiny of the rows of windows. All but half a dozen or so were dark. It looked safe.Satisfied, Simpson walked twenty feet or more along the side of the court and stopped below a fire escape. The platform at the lower end of the iron stairway was placed too high for a man to reach it from the ground unaided."Give me a boost," said Simpson. He stooped and placed the camera on the ground.In a moment Merriam had hoisted him up, so that he could catch hold of the end of the platform and pull himself on to it. Then Simpson lay down on his stomach and dropped his arms over the edge of the platform. Merriam first handed up the camera and then with a little jump caught his hands and was drawn up until he in his turn could get hold of the edge of the landing and scramble on to it.A moment later they were erect and had begun stealthily to mount the narrow stairs.It seemed to Merriam that they went up interminably--a short flight--a turn--another short flight--along a platform past sleeping windows--another flight. He got out of breath, and began to feel very tired. The effect of Margery's coffee was wearing off.But at last Simpson stopped on one of the platforms and peered through a window. It was one of which the shades were not drawn at all and was open about two inches at the bottom."This is it," said Simpson, and he stooped, opened the window, and climbed in.As soon as Merriam had followed, Simpson closed the window and drew the shade. Then he crossed the dark room and pushed a switch."Where are we?" asked Merriam."This room is next to Senator Norman's bedroom," said Simpson, "on the other side from the sitting room. The couple who had it left this evening, and Mr. Rockwell has taken it for you under the name of Wilson. Mr. Rockwell will be expecting us."He moved to a door at the side and knocked softly four times--once, twice, and once again.Almost immediately a key was turned on the other side, the door was opened, and Rockwell stood surveying them.There was only a dim light in the room behind him. With a glance over his shoulder at the bed where the sick Senator lay--the same bed in which Merriam had played at being sick on the previous afternoon,--he entered the new room and closed the door."You've made it!" he said. "Thank Heaven! You weren't seen, Simpson?""I think not, sir."He looked closely at Merriam. "You're tired," he said."I sure am.""Well, so am I. What a day! And to-morrow will be as bad. Maybe worse. Never again will I father an impostor. But we've got to see it through this time. Sit down. Have a cigarette, and tell me what happened at the flat. Then I'll let you go to bed and snatch a few hours' sleep. You must be in fighting trim to-morrow, you know--for the speech!"Merriam took the proffered cigarette and dropped gratefully into a chair. Rockwell and Simpson also sat down."How's Senator Norman?" Merriam asked."Sick. Hobart looks serious, but he says he'll pull around in a day or two. He's dosing him heavily. You've simply got to stay by us and play the game until he's on his feet again.""I suppose so. Well----"He was about to repeat the summary of the events of his evening which he had already given Simpson, so as to get it over and get to bed. But before he could begin a knock sounded at the side door through which Rockwell had entered.Simpson went to the door and opened it. It was Dr. Hobart."Miss Norman and Mrs. Norman want to come in," he said.Rockwell hesitated. No doubt he would have preferred to hear Merriam's story himself first, without even Aunt Mary present.Merriam meanwhile sat up, suddenly forgetting his fatigue: he was to see Mollie June still that night. He had not hoped for that."I supposed they would have gone to bed," he said, to cover his involuntary show of interest."No," said Rockwell. "After the dinner party they waited for me to come back with Norman, of course. Then he was so ill that Hobart kept us all busy for a couple of hours doing things. We didn't want to get in a nurse on account of--you, you know. And then they wanted to wait till you came. We expected you a long time ago. Well," he added, turning to the physician, "tell them to come along."It was at least a minute before they arrived. Merriam was oddly nervous. He had been through strange scenes since he had left Mollie June in the Peacock Cabaret, and she must have divined as much.They entered, Aunt Mary first with Mollie June behind her, and Merriam and Rockwell rose. The two women were dressed just as they had been at the dinner party--Aunt Mary in the black evening gown and Mollie June in the filmy rose. Mollie June looked just a little pale and tired, but Aunt Mary had not turned a hair."Well, young man," began the older woman briskly, "you've kept us up till a pretty time of night. What was happening there where you were when Mr. Rockwell telephoned? Sit down and tell us."Evidently Aunt Mary, conscious of the ungodly hour, did not think it necessary to allow Merriam time for even a formal greeting of her young sister-in-law, who had stopped uncertainly in the doorway.But Merriam was not to be hurried to quite that degree, whatever the time of night or morning might be. He turned to Mollie June."You're coming in, aren't you? Take this chair."He pushed a rocker towards her, concerned at her evident fatigue.She came forward and sat down, then raised her eyes to him with a grave "Thank you."For a moment Merriam did not understand that steady, unsmiling look. Then he thought he did understand. It had a questioning quality. Mollie June's mind was at ease now about her husband, since he was back and not supposed to be seriously ill, and she, like Simpson earlier, was wondering--not that it concerned her, of course--how Merriam had spent the night--so large a part of it--at Jennie's flat. She, too, knew Jennie, to the extent at least of having seen and in a measure comprehended her. Perhaps even in a Mollie June there is that which enables her to understand a Jennie and her lure for a youthful male. He remembered Mollie June's description of her and the cool detachment with which it had been uttered: "She's pretty and sweet, and--warm."For just an instant Merriam was slightly confused. He had verified that description--all of it.It is to be feared that his embarrassment, slight and merely instantaneous though it was, did not escape Mollie June. She dropped her eyes, still unsmiling.Merriam's second sketch of his evening's adventures differed from the one he had given Simpson in being fuller and in two particular points: first, of course, in omitting reference to his missionary efforts in Simpson's behalf, which, however laudable, were hardly for the ears of Mollie June; and, second, in including mention of Jennie's change into her ballet costume--because he realised as he talked that the pictures, to be developed in the morning, would exhibit that detail most unmistakably and that he would do well to prepare Mollie June's mind--and Simpson's, for that matter--in advance. But he laid his emphasis on the more dramatic episodes--the hurled revolver, the tying up, the flash lights, and Crockett's angry exit. He told it humorously and well, and was rewarded by Mollie June's interest. Her questioning gravity disappeared, and she followed him with eager attention and with a return of pretty colour to her cheeks.Aunt Mary and Rockwell--not to mention Simpson--also listened attentively. When Merriam had finished they looked at each other."Well," said Rockwell, "I'm not sure but that it would have been better to let him go as soon as you had told him your yarn, but on the whole I think you did mighty well. Those pictures may come in handy."Aunt Mary rose. "You certainly are an enterprising young man, Mr. Merriam," she said dryly. "Now go to bed and get some sleep. You make your début as an orator at noon, you know! Come, Mollie June.""Good night, Miss Norman," said Merriam, and he advanced to Mollie June, who had also risen."Good night, Mrs. Mollie June." He dropped his voice for the last three words and held out his hand.She took it with an unconscious happy smile."Good night--Mr. John," she said.Whatever she may have feared or suspected his story had established an alibi for him.CHAPTER XXIVTHE REFORM LEAGUE"Quarter to ten," said Rockwell cheerily. "I've let you sleep to the last possible moment. Here's your breakfast on the stand. Better eat it and drink your coffee first. Then a shave and get at this." He indicated a small pile of manuscript on the writing table. "Your speech, Senator!" he grinned."Good Lord!" groaned Merriam, remembering everything. He perceived also that he was to breakfast alone--no Mollie June. But the sight of the manuscript fascinated and aroused him. He realised, as he had not done before, that within a few hours he was to make a public address in a great Chicago club before many of the city's most prominent men and women--on what subject even he had no idea!"Good Lord!" he said again and put his feet out. "How's Senator Norman?" he asked."Sleeping now," said Rockwell. "Hobart thinks he can get him on his feet by night. He's due to start for Cairo this evening, you know, on a stumping trip." Then quickly: "You'll find these sliced oranges refreshing. Have your bath first if you want to."Merriam was in the midst of his breakfast when Rockwell returned. "By the way," he said, "here are your pictures," and he took some unmounted prints from an envelope.Merriam reached for them with curiosity and something like trepidation. They were not good flash lights--a little blurred,--but the faces and attitudes were unmistakable. Jennie's foot and leg extending forward across the table were very much in evidence in the first of them."Rather striking poses," commented Rockwell."Jennie's invention," said Merriam defensively."No doubt. Well, they could hardly be better for their purpose. I think Crockett will go slow all right.""Have--has Miss Norman seen them?""Yes. And Simpson, of course." For a moment Rockwell quizzically regarded Merriam's face, in which a further unspoken question was anxiously plain. Then he answered it: "No one else. Mrs. Norman is still sleeping. I'm not sure Aunt Mary will consider them proper pictures for her to see anyway. Come," he added briskly, "you've eaten only one piece of toast. You must get outside of at least one more piece. And then shave. I'll strop your razor for you. I'm your valet this morning, Senator."With a sigh Merriam glanced at the waiting speech and tackled a second piece of toast, with the feeling that its mastication was a task of almost impossible difficulty. He achieved it, however, to the rhythmic accompaniment of Rockwell's stropping, consumed another cup of coffee--his third, I regret to say,--and proceeded to shave.At last Merriam was collared and tied and was slipping into his coat. Rockwell rose and laid down the manuscript."Ready?" he said. "Very good. You can get to work. It's a quarter past ten. The luncheon is at twelve-thirty. But we shan't appear at the luncheon itself. Too dangerous. You'd have to meet a lot of men who know the Senator--meet them face to face in cold daylight and talk to them. We'd never get away with it. So I'll telephone that you've been detained by important business but will be in for the speeches. That way we'll come in by ourselves, with everybody else set and no opportunity for personal confabulations. You'll have to run the gauntlet of their eyes, of course. But you can do that."Earnestly for a moment he scrutinised Merriam's face and figure, as if to reassure himself that the astounding imposture had been and was still really possible."Yes," he continued confidently, "that'll be all right. The speeches are scheduled to begin at one-fifteen. We'll leave here at five or ten minutes after one. That gives you nearly three hours to salt down the speech. You can learn it verbatim or only master the outline and substance and give it in your own words. Perhaps you'd better learn a good deal of it just as it is. Aunt Mary has it chock-full of the Senator's pet words and phrases. Your own style might be too different. Do you commit easily?""Fairly so," said Merriam. As a matter of fact the speech itself presented few terrors to him. He had done a good deal of debating and declaiming in college, and of course in his capacity as principal of the high school he was called upon for "a few words" on every conceivable occasion in Riceville."Good. Go to it, then. I'll make myself scarce. Here are cigarettes. You won't be disturbed.Au revoir, Senator! If you want anything, knock on this door. Either Hobart or I will answer."Grinning, Rockwell departed into the real, the sick Senator's, bedroom, leaving Merriam with the typewritten manuscript.He worked away for a couple of hours, sometimes sitting down, more often walking back and forth, occasionally refreshing himself with a cigarette, and faithfully learning by heart Aunt Mary's Senator Norman's speech on "Municipal Reform."By half past twelve he had mastered it to his satisfaction. He decided to go through with it once more by the clock. It was designed, as he knew from a pencil note at the top of the first page, to take thirty minutes. He did so, and came out at the end by five minutes to one.Evidently his delivery was a little more rapid than Senator Norman's. He must remember to speak slowly.He had just reached this conclusion when a knock sounded at the side door and Rockwell entered."I've got it by heart," said Merriam."Good! Come into the sitting room, then. You're to have a cup of coffee and a sandwich before you start.""Fine. I am a bit hollow. How's the Senator?"Rockwell looked worried, but answered, "Sleeping again now. Come along if you're ready.""In a minute."Merriam bathed his face and hands, folded the speech and put it in his pocket, and followed Rockwell across the Senator's bedroom, with just a glance at the sick man in the bed and a nod to Dr. Hobart, who sat by the window with a newspaper into the sitting room.After his morning of intense, solitary labour he was somewhat nonplused for a moment by the size of the company he found assembled there--Aunt Mary and Mollie June, of course, Alicia, Mr. Wayward, and Father Murray. He said good morning to each of them.Alicia reminded him that it was really afternoon now."We shall meet Black in the car," said Rockwell. "Then the roll of the conspirators will be complete!"Mollie June, who had had no speech to learn, had slept late and was now as blooming as ever."We're all going to hear you," she said as she gave Merriam her hand."Good Heavens!" he said, with a twinge of the stage fright which he had thus far had no time to feel. "I shouldn't mind the others, but you----"He left that dangerous remark unfinished.To Aunt Mary he said: "I've learned the speech by heart. I admire it very much," and was pleased to note that even Aunt Mary had an author's susceptibility to praise.Meanwhile Simpson, who was in attendance, had poured out a cup of coffee, and Mollie June brought it to him with a sandwich on a plate."Won't you sit down to eat it?" she asked, regarding him with a look of awe which flattered him enormously and served to quiet his rising nervousness.(Mollie June had taken oratory of all degrees and on all possible occasions on the part of Norman as a matter of course, but the thought that John Merriam, who was only a little older than herself and had taken her to "sociables" and had wanted to make love to her but had not dared, was about to address the distinguished Urban Club of Chicago at one of its formidable luncheons filled her with admiration.)"Thank you," he said, taking the coffee and the sandwich. "No, I think I'll eat it standing." But he smiled at her with the confidence which her admiration had given him, thereby increasing the admiration--a pleasing psychological circle.But now Rockwell was at his side and barely gave him time to finish his sandwich and gulp down the coffee."Miss Norman and the Senator and I go with Mayor Black in the Senator's car," said that master of ceremonies and conspiracies. "The other four of you are to follow in the Mayor's machine. Here's your coat and hat."Along the hall--down in the elevator--through the lobby to the pavement--Merriam had only a dazed sense of being part of an irresistible, conspicuous procession which was carrying him whither he had no strong desire to go.A limousine was already drawn up at the curb, and the hotel starter was deferentially holding the door.Mayor Black was already within the car."Ah, Senator," the Mayor ejaculated, "I'm glad to see you up again, and to have you--really you--coming to the Reform League!"For an instant Merriam did not understand. Then he realised that the Mayor thought he was addressing the real Senator Norman. It was a good omen for the continued success of his impersonation.He sank into the seat opposite the Mayor, who was facing forward with Aunt Mary beside him. Rockwell climbed in and sat next to Merriam. The door slammed, and the machine started.Then, as the Mayor still beamed at him and as neither of the others spoke, Merriam said gently:"I'm still the impostor, I'm afraid, Mr. Mayor.""Eh!"The Mayor leaned forward to scrutinise his face and then turned as if bewildered and still unconvinced to Rockwell."Yes," said Rockwell. "I tried to get you on the 'phone this morning, but your line was busy, and I didn't have a chance to try again. The Senator is still sick. Worse, in fact. Mr. Merriam is going to keep the Senator's engagement at the Urban Club for him.""My God!" cried the Mayor. "Speak before all those people! You never can do it!""Yes, we can," said Rockwell, with smiling serenity. "You were fooled again yourself just now," he pointed out.The Mayor groaned. "Then we still don't know where Senator Norman himself will stand when he's up," he said."I telephoned you yesterday that he had agreed to everything," said Aunt Mary coldly. "That was true.""While he was sick," said Black. "Will he stick to it when he's well again?""He'll have to stick," said Rockwell. "Ten times more so after this speech. He can't possibly go back on that.""If this Mr.--Mr. Merriam," said the Mayor, eyeing him with profound dislike, "is unmasked at the Urban Club, it would be the utter ruin of us all.""It undoubtedly would," replied Rockwell cheerfully. "All the more reason why we should all keep a stiff upper lip and play up for him.""No!" cried the Mayor. "It's insane! Stop the car! I'll step into the nearest store and telephone that the Senator has fainted in the cab and can't appear. Anything is better than this awful risk."He put out his hand for the cord to signal to the chauffeur. But Rockwell roughly struck his arm down."Sit still!" he commanded savagely. "Do you want us to choke you again? This car goes on to the Urban Club. Senator Norman has a fine speech, and he'll make it well. No one will suspect. The thing has the one essential characteristic of successful imposture--boldness to the point of impossibility. If any one notices any slight change in his appearance or voice or manner, it will be put down to his illness. It will cinch the whole thing as nothing else could. You've got to go through with it, Mayor."Mr. Black groaned again and relapsed into a dismal silence.Fortunately he did not have long to brood, nor Merriam long to work up the nervousness which this dialogue had naturally renewed in him. In a couple of minutes after the Mayor's second and more lamentable groan the limousine stopped before the imposing entrance of the Urban Club."Sit tight, Mayor!" Rockwell warned.Then the doorman of the Club opened the car, and Rockwell descended and helped Aunt Mary out and Merriam and the Mayor followed.Inside their coats and the men's hats were quickly taken from them by efficient checkroom boys, and they were guided immediately to the elevator. The speeches had already begun upstairs, some one said.They stepped out into the hallway outside the Club's big dining room. From inside came the noise of clapping. Some one had just finished speaking."This is our chance," said Rockwell, meaning doubtless that they could best enter during the interlude between speeches. "Go ahead, Senator. Take the Mayor's arm!"In a moment they were passing through a group of tuxedoed servants at the door. Merriam was conscious of a large room in pleasant tones of brown with a low raftered ceiling and many windows of small leaded panes. The tables were arranged in the form of a great horseshoe, with the closed end--the speakers' table--opposite the door. The horseshoe was lined inside and out with guests, perhaps two hundred in all--men who looked either distinguished or intelligent, occasionally both, and women who were either distinguished or intelligent or beautiful--from some points of view the great city's best.Then came the turning of many eyes to look at himself and Mayor Black, and the toastmaster at the center of the speakers' table rose and called to them:"Senator! Mayor! This way."He pointed to two empty chairs on either side of his own.Merriam nodded, and, still propelling the semi-comatose Black, circled one side of the horseshoe, giving the line of guests as wide a berth as he could, to avoid possible contretemps from personal greetings to which he might be unable to make suitable response.Arrived at the speakers' table, he shook hands warmly with the toastmaster--a bald, benevolent-looking man of much aplomb, whose name he never learned--and with two or three other men from nearby chairs--evidently personal acquaintances of Senator Norman's--who rose to welcome him, making talk the while of apologies for being late. Presently he found himself seated at the toastmaster's right, facing the distinguished company. No one had betrayed any suspicion. The imposture was, in fact, as Rockwell had said, so bold as to be unthinkable.Mayor Black had meanwhile been seated at the toastmaster's left, and Rockwell and Aunt Mary had been guided to two vacant seats at the left end of the speakers' table. The necessity of greeting friends had somewhat roused the Mayor, who had found his tongue and managed to respond, though for him haltingly.The toastmaster leaned towards Merriam and whispered:"You're to speak last, Senator. Colonel Edwards is next, then Mayor Black, then you."With that he rose and felicitated the company on the arrival of the two distinguished servants of the City and the Nation between whom he now had the honour to sit.He then introduced Colonel Edwards, a stout, quite unmilitary-looking gentleman, who was earnestly interested and mildly interesting on the subject of good roads for the space of fifteen minutes.Merriam's attention was distracted almost at the beginning of Colonel Edwards' speech by the arrival at the entrance of the dining room, now directly opposite him, of the second taxi-load from the hotel. Alicia caught Merriam's eye and smiled at him mischievously. Evidently she was enjoying the situation to the full. Mollie June, on the other hand, though deliciously crowned with a small blossomy hat of obvious expensiveness, was entirely grave, her eyes fixed almost too steadily and too anxiously on our youthful hero, where he sat in the seats of the mighty, outwardly at least as much at ease as if he had been accustomed for thirty years to find himself at the speakers' table of historic clubs.Colonel Edwards suddenly sat down. He was one of those rare public speakers who occasionally disconcert their audiences by stopping when they are through.The toastmaster gasped, but rose to his feet and the occasion and called upon Mayor Black.As the Mayor slowly rose Merriam was most uncomfortably anxious--uncertain whether the city's chief executive was even yet sufficiently master of himself to face an audience successfully. But Mr. Black was one of those gentlemen, not uncommon in public life, who are apparently more at ease before an audience than in any other situation. His great mellow voice boomed forth, and Merriam relaxed. That speech was hardly, perhaps, one of the Mayor's masterpieces. But that mattered little, of course. He produced an admirably even flow of head tones. Itsoundedlike a perfectly good speech.Merriam, at any rate, was quite oblivious of any lack of strict logical coherence in the Mayor's remarks. He was suddenly smitten by the realisation that his own turn came next. For a moment he fought a panic of blankness, then mentally grabbed at the opening sentences of what he had so carefully committed during the morning. Outwardly serene and attentive to the speaker, inwardly he hastily rehearsed his first half dozen paragraphs, and, winking his eyes somewhat rapidly perhaps, fixed the outline of the rest of it in his mind.The Mayor rose to a climax of thunderous tone and eloquent gesture and sat. Loud applause followed.Across the clapping hands Merriam glanced at Mr. Wayward and Alicia and Mollie June where they sat at one side of the horseshoe. The other two were clapping, but Mollie June was not. He thought she looked pale, but of course he was too far away to be sure. "She is afraid for me," he thought, and gratitude for her interest mingled with a fine resolve to show her that she had no cause for fear--that he would give a good account of himself anywhere--for her.The glow of that resolution carried him through the ordeal of the toastmaster's introduction and brought him to his feet with smiling alacrity at the proper moment.The applause was hearty. There is magic still, strange as it may seem, in the word "senator." He was forced to bow again and again.Then he struck into his speech--Aunt Mary's speech. He found himself letter-perfect. He had at least half his mind free to attend to his delivery. He gave it slowly, impressively, grandly facing first one part of his audience and then another. George Norman himself before packed galleries in the Senate Chamber at Washington had never done better. And it was a good speech, deftly conceived, clearly reasoned, aptly worded. Merriam himself in all his morning's study of it had not realised how perfectly it was adapted to the occasion and the audience. Down at the far end of the speakers' table, the female author of it sat unnoticed, watching with tight-pressed lips its effect; her only right to be there, if any one had asked you, the accident of her relationship to the wonderful Senator.He reached the end. As he rounded out the last sentence his eyes rested triumphantly for a second on Mollie June. Whether or not her cheeks had been pale before, they were flushed now. He sat down.The room rocked. The applause this time was no mechanical reaction. It was an ovation. The toastmaster leaped to his feet with ponderous agility and grabbed for Merriam's hand. The latter found himself standing, the center of a group of excited men, all of whom he must pretend to know, overwhelming him with congratulations.Behind him he caught a remark that was doubtless not intended for his ears: "How the devil does he keep his youthful looks and fire? He might be twenty-five!"Then Rockwell charged into the group, excited himself, but persistent with the formula, "Pressing engagement," and got him out of the room, and into the elevator, and through the hallway on the first floor, with his hat and coat restored, and into the limousine, which darted away for the hotel.CHAPTER XXVSECOND COUNCIL OF WARMerriam and Rockwell were alone in the Senator's car.Merriam leaned back against the cushions and closed his eyes. He was at once fatigued and excited. It almost seemed to him that he was still addressing the Urban Club. Then he seemed to be talking still but to a single auditor--a girl with flushed cheeks and eyes that shone with excited pride.He opened his eyes. Rockwell was regarding him steadily. "I don't wonder you feel done up," he said. "It was splendid, my boy. You spoke like a veteran. You ought to go into public life on your own. Perhaps you will." He seemed to meditate. Then: "You saw Crockett, I suppose?""No!" exclaimed Merriam."Didn't you? He was seated six places to your right at the speakers' table. Right in line with you, of course. Not strange you missed him. Just as well, perhaps. It might have shaken evenyournerve."The phrase "evenyournerve" was pleasant praise to Merriam. He had never thought of himself as possessed of any exceptionalsang froid. But perhaps he had behaved with rather creditable composure in a trying situation."Hewas shaken, I can tell you," Rockwell was saying. "Lord, I was on pins! I didn't know but what when you rose to speak he would jump up and denounce you. But not he. He simply lay back and stared and kept moistening his lips. I suppose he couldn't make up his mind for sure whether you were the Senator or the double or whether he himself had gone crazy or not. We'll hear from him, though," he added reflectively."I suppose so," said Merriam wearily. "I wish to Heaven we were clean through the thing!" That feeling had come suddenly, and for the moment he meant it, though he was having the time of his life."So do I," said Rockwell heartily. "But we're not. Not by a long shot. So you must buck up. Here's the hotel. You shall have a real meal now. That'll put heart into you again."The machine stopped, and the door was opened."Quick time, now!" Rockwell whispered.Senator Norman and his new political manager, Mr. Rockwell of the Reform League, rushed almost precipitately into the lobby of the Hotel De Soto and made a bee line for the nearest elevator. It was obvious that important business urgently called them, for they merely nodded hurriedly in response to several cordial salutations.As the elevator shot up Rockwell leaned heavily against the side of the car, took off his hat, though there was no one with them, drew a deep breath, and comically winked both eyes at Merriam."What a life!" he ejaculated.Stepping out at Floor Three, they were greeted by the spectacle of Dr. Hobart bending over the floor clerk's desk and evidently having a delightful tête-à-tête with the handsome young mistress of that sanctum, whose eyes were coquettishly raised to his, though her head was slightly bent--for she was smelling an American Beauty rose. A large vase of the same expensive flowers adorned one corner of her desk.Only a momentary glimpse did Merriam and Rockwell have of this pretty tableau, for Dr. Hobart at once straightened up as if in some embarrassment and came towards them."I was just thinking it was about time for you to be back," he said, though he surely did not expect them to believe that he had just been thinking anything of the sort.The pretty floor clerk, no whit nonplused, bowed and smiled at Rockwell. But she studiously failed to observe Senator Norman's presence.Dr. Hobart walked down the hall with them."How's Norman?" Rockwell asked."No better, I'm afraid," said the physician apologetically. "He has a high fever, and a while ago he was slightly delirious. I had to give him more of the drug. He's sleeping again now. Simpson is with him, of course.""Damn!" said Rockwell, with a sort of deliberate earnestness.They reached the sitting room and entered it. There was no one there. Simpson was apparently in the Senator's bedroom. Merriam dropped into a chair and closed his eyes again. Rockwell walked across to a window and stood staring out. Dr. Hobart stopped uncertainly in the middle of the room and fiddled with a cigarette without being able to make up his mind to light it. For several moments none of them spoke.But Rockwell was not the man to remain long in any apathy of inaction. He turned suddenly, and Merriam, whom the prolonged unnatural silence had caused to open his eyes, saw that he had made up his mind to something."Hobart," he said, "I suppose Simpson isn't practically necessary in there." He indicated the sick room."N-no," said Dr. Hobart, "I suppose not. He's just watching. Norman will sleep soundly for some time.""Then ask him to come here, will you?"The physician disappeared into the bedroom and in a moment returned with Simpson."Simpson," said Rockwell, "we're going to have a meal here, for nine people. A luncheon, if you like. But make it hearty. Choose the stuff yourself, and serve it as quickly as you can, please."For a moment Simpson stared. Then, as if remembering a nearly forgotten cue, he replied submissively, "Yes, sir," and turned to the door.As that door closed behind Simpson, Merriam suddenly stood up."I must send a telegram to Riceville," he said, starting for the writing table for a blank."Wait a bit," said Rockwell. "You can send it just as well an hour from now."Merriam was disposed to argue, but just then the rest of their party trooped in, having returned to the hotel in Mayor Black's car.Alicia walked straight up to Merriam, gay with enthusiasm, caught his hand, and squeezed it."My dear boy," she cried, "it was perfectly splendid! I've half a mind to kiss you!""Please do," said Merriam."I will," said Alicia promptly, and before the young man could realise what was happening she had put her gloved hands on his shoulders and kissed him on one cheek.Merriam was vastly astonished. In the circles in which he had moved in Riceville or even at college, his remark could have been taken only as a daring pleasantry. But he undoubtedly hadsang froid, for he concealed his confusion, or most of it, and said:"Let me turn the other cheek.""Oh, I mustn't be a pig," said Alicia. "I'll leave the other cheek for Mollie June."At this Merriam's confusion became, I fear, perfectly apparent, for the remainder of the party had followed Alicia into the room and were grouped about him."Kiss him quick, Mollie dear," said the incorrigible Alicia, thereby causing confusion in a second person present.But Mayor Black, no longer to be restrained, saved the situation. He seized Merriam's hand and pumped it."One of the best speeches I ever heard the Senator make!" he asserted, in tones which Merriam feared might rouse the real Senator in the adjoining room.Mr. Wayward meanwhile was patting him on the back and murmuring, "Fine! Excellent!"Merriam turned to Aunt Mary:"I tried to do it justice," he said."You gave it exceedingly well," said Aunt Mary, with less reserve than he had ever seen her exhibit before."Indeed you did!" cried Mollie June earnestly, her eyes shining with sincerity.And that tribute, from the least qualified judge of them all, was, I regret to state, the one which young Merriam treasured the most.Simpson, who had worked with amazing alacrity, and even inspired his assistants to celerity had completed his preparations and announced that he was ready to serve the luncheon.Rockwell delayed the meal for several minutes the sake of an apparently important conference into which he had drawn Mr. Wayward and the Mayor over by the window.Presently, however, they all sat down, with Merriam beside Mollie June. The luncheon passed, as luncheons do, in small talk and anecdote.At last Rockwell, having finished the last morsel of a piece of French pastry, laid down his fork and fixed his eyes significantly on Mr. Wayward, who was in mid-career with something like his fifteenth anecdote. Mr. Wayward faltered but rallied and finished his story. It was the best one he had told, but there was only perfunctory laughter. Every one about the table was looking at Rockwell, realising that at last the great question that was in all their minds, "What are we to do next?" was to be discussed and decided. Simpson, it should be added, had dismissed his assistants as soon as the dessert course was served, so that only the initiated were present.Three times during the meal Dr. Hobart had left the table to enter the sick room. On the second occasion he had remained away some minutes. Rockwell now turned to him."Give us your report, Doctor," he said abruptly."Well," replied the physician, "he is better. Half an hour ago he was awake for perhaps five minutes. His temperature is lower, though he still has some fever. He is sleeping again now, more quietly than at any time since he returned to the hotel. In short, he is doing as well as could be expected. But it is out of the question for him to start on that speech-making tour this evening.""Undoubtedly," said Aunt Mary, with much decision."Just so," said Rockwell. "That being the case, two alternatives present themselves: to announce his illness and call off the trip, or to go on playing the game as we have begun, with Mr. Merriam's help."Merriam gasped and opened his mouth to protest, but Rockwell waved him down."The Mayor and Mr. Wayward and I have been discussing the matter. At first blush, there may seem to be little question as to which of these two courses we should pursue. Having come safely--so far as we know at least--through all the perils of discovery thus far, it may seem that we should tempt fortune no further, but let Mr. Merriam return to his school, publish the fact of the Senator's illness, and cancel the speaking engagements.""Surely yes," interjected Merriam, and Aunt Mary and Father Murray and Mollie June and even Alicia seemed to assent."On further consideration," Rockwell continued imperturbably, "I think you will all see that the thing is not so clear. The course I have just suggested may be--doubtless is--the more prudent one, if prudence were all, but it is decidedly unfair to George Norman."At this Aunt Mary almost visibly pricked up her ears."In his name," Rockwell went on, "we have thrown over the conservative wing of the party, with whom he has always stood and who have supported him--have 'betrayed' them, as they will put it, in this traction matter and in aligning him with the Reform League. We did so on the theory that he was to appeal to the people and to come back stronger than ever as the leader of the new and growing progressive element, which is sure to be dominant in the next election if only they can find such a leader as Norman could be. But if we cancel this trip and let him drop out of the campaign, if we stop now, where will he be? He will have lost his old backers and will not have made new ones. He will be politically dead. We shall have played absolutely into the hands of Crockett and Thompson and the rest of the gang, and shall have accomplished nothing but the political ruin of George Norman."All the persons about the table except Mayor Black and Mr. Wayward stared hard at Rockwell as this new view of their predicament sank into their minds. The Mayor and Mr. Wayward smiled and nodded and watched the effect on the others. Particularly they watched Merriam, who sat dumfounded and vaguely alarmed. What new entanglements was Rockwell devising for him? He must get back to Riceville. Involuntarily--he could not have said why--he cast a quick glance at Mollie June, and encountered a similar glance from her. They both looked away in confusion.Aunt Mary spoke:"Tell us your plan."It was like her--that masterful acceptance, without comment, of the situation."My plan, as you call it," said Rockwell, fixing his eyes not on Aunt Mary but on Merriam, "is simply that we should go on for another day or two as we have begun--play the game for George until he can take the cards in his own hands. This is Thursday. He is scheduled to leave this evening for Cairo, to speak there at nine o'clock to-morrow morning, to go on to East St. Louis for a talk before the Rotary Club at noon, and then up to Springfield for an address in the evening. Is that correct?""Yes," said Aunt Mary. "And he was to speak in Bloomington and Peoria on Saturday and in Moline and Freeport on Sunday.""The speeches are all ready, I believe?""Yes. George and I outlined them together some time ago, and I have them written and typed.""Exactly. Turn the manuscripts over to Mr. Merriam as you did this morning. He will have time on the train on the way to each place to master the speech to be given at that point. We shall take a special car. Mr. Wayward and I will go with him. You"--he was addressing Aunt Mary--"and the Mayor and Dr. Hobart--and Simpson," he added, glancing up at the waiter, who stood listening in the background,--"and the rest of you will stay here to guard George. That will be easy when the newspapers are full of his speeches out in the State.""Mr. Crockett will know," said Father Murray timidly."He may suspect," said Rockwell with a grin. "But if you keep every one away from George--conceal his presence here,--he can't be sure whether it's George himself or his double who is speech-making over the State. And if he were sure, he wouldn't dare denounce him. Thanks to Mr. Merriam's clever trick last night, he has a particularly strong reason for keeping his mouth shut. If on the other hand we give up and lie down--cancel the trip,--he can easily start all manner of nasty stories about his escapades. I'm sorry to say it, but George has a pretty widespread sporting reputation." Rockwell glanced apologetically at Mollie June, but continued. "When a man with such a character is laid up, people are ready to believe anything except that he is really legitimately sick. Things will be safer here than they would be if we abandoned our trick. And our part out in the State will be 'nuts,' compared to what it was at the Urban Club this noon, for instance. Very few people out there know Norman well. There is no question at all that Mr. Merriam will get by. And we know from this noon that he will make the speeches in fine shape.""The speeches will need to be altered a bit," said Aunt Mary, "if they are to appeal to the progressives.""Mr. Merriam can attend to that on the train," said Rockwell. "Soften the standpattism and throw in some progressive dope. Can't you?" He appealed to Merriam."I suppose I could," said Merriam, "but--my school.""I know," said Rockwell, "but it will be only a day or two longer. We'll telegraph again, of course. If you were really sick, as we've been telling them, they'd have to get along, wouldn't they? You've got to see us through. We must keep the ball rolling. It will probably be only one more day. George will be able to travel to-morrow, I presume?" he asked of Dr. Hobart. "By noon, anyway?""By noon, I hope," said the physician with cheerful optimism."You see?" said Rockwell. "George can catch the noon train for Springfield and get there in time to take on the evening speech. Mr. Merriam will have made the two at Cairo and East St. Louis. He can go back to Riceville from Springfield."Just then the telephone rang, and I believe every person in the room jumped.Rockwell rose to answer it."Senator Norman? Yes, he is here. But he is engaged. This is Mr. Rockwell, his manager. You can give the message to me."A moment later he put his hand over the receiver and turned to Merriam."He insists on speaking to the Senator. You'll have to answer. I think it's Crockett. For Heaven's sake, be careful!"Merriam took the receiver:"Hello!"A voice which he remembered only too well from the night before at Jennie's replied:"This is Mr. Crockett, I have the honour, I believe, of speaking to Mr. Merriam.""You have the wrong number!" said Merriam and hung up.But before he had had time to explain to the others or even to wonder whether he had done wisely, the bell jangled again. He turned back to the instrument. Rockwell came quickly to his side, and Merriam, taking down the receiver, held it so that his "manager" too should be able to hear what came over the wire."Hello!""Ah! Senator Norman, by your voice," said Crockett in tones of elaborate irony. "I wish to congratulate you, Senator, on your speech this noon. It was a magnificent effort. So full of progressive ideas and youthful virility!""Thank you," said Merriam."And, Senator, I really must see you right away. I am calling from the lobby. I will come up to your rooms at once, if I may. Or meet you anywhere else you say. It is of the utmost importance to you, Mr. Mer----" (he pretended to correct himself) "to you, Senator, as well as to me.""Wait a minute," said Merriam. He put his hand over the mouthpiece and looked at Rockwell."Tell him you will see him at eight o'clock this evening, here."Merriam repeated this message."Ateight?" said Crockett, with significant emphasis on the hour. "Very good, Senator. Thank you." He hung up.Rockwell and Merriam turned to the others. Aunt Mary and the rest had risen. They were standing by their places about the table, looking rather scared."Eighto'clock?" questioned Aunt Mary, with an emphasis similar to Crockett's."Yes," said Rockwell doggedly. "Because"--he addressed Merriam--"your train goes at seven. At seven-thirty Miss Norman shall telephone Crockett, expressing your regret that you overlooked the fact that you would have to be gone by that time. Man alive!" he cried. "Don't you see? The Senator can't be sick now--after your public appearance this noon. Half the people who count in Chicago saw you--him, there--right as a trivet--obviously perfectly well. And we can't keepyouhere, with Crockett and Thompson continually nosing 'round. There's nothing for it but for you to start on that trip. The trip's a godsend. Write your telegram to Riceville!"Merriam glanced around the circle of faces. Mad as the thing was, they all seemed to agree with Rockwell. Mayor Black and Mr. Wayward and even Simpson seemed to be asking him, as man to man, to stand by them. Father Murray was timidly expectant. Dr. Hobart, he noticed, was staring down at the table as if in thought. Aunt Mary, looking him full in the eyes, gave an affirmative nod. Alicia's eyes and shoulders registered appeal as conspicuously as if she had been a movie actress. And Mollie June seemed to be begging him not to desert her.With a gesture of resignation he went over to the writing table and sat down to compose his third mendacious telegram to Riceville.
CHAPTER XXIII
RETURN
"Madison and Wabash!" shouted the guard.
Merriam started, picked up his camera, and made for the door. He had scarcely heard the other stations called and thanked his stars that he had waked up for this one.
He descended the stairs from the Elevated platform and found Simpson waiting.
"Good morning, Simpson."
"Good morning."
"Mr. Rockwell says you can get me into the hotel unnoticed."
Simpson looked at him sideways, hesitated, then turned and started slowly west.
Merriam fell into step beside him and for a moment wondered obtusely what ailed the man. Then he understood. Of course! He wanted news of Jennie. Perhaps he was suspicious as to how Merriam might have spent his time in that apartment. Perhaps he, like Margery, knew his Jennie only too well.
To set his mind at rest, Merriam plunged at once into a sketchy summary of the events at the flat--Crockett's arrival--"almost as soon as you had left," he placed it--his own telling of his story--Crockett's being half convinced--Jennie's plan--the supper party (without reference to Jennie's change of costume or the dancing on the table)--Rockwell's telephone call--the tying up and the flash lights.
"I have the films here," he added, exhibiting the camera as tangible evidence that he was not yarning. "Can you get them developed for me in the morning?"
"Yes," said Simpson, in a much less frigid tone than before. He took the camera.
"After Crockett had gone," Merriam continued smoothly, "I talked to Jennie about you. I told her she ought to marry you, and how well you've shown up in this affair, and that Senator Norman and Rockwell are going to pay you a bit of money for it, which you've certainly earned, and that you would take her away on a little trip anywhere she wanted to go, and then set up in a business of your own somewhere, and that she would be a lot happier that way than now."
An older man, more sensitive to the dynamite in the situation, would probably have spoken less freely and less successfully. Whatever else Simpson may have felt, he could not question his companion's youthful candour and good will. After perhaps a dozen steps he spoke in a carefully controlled voice:
"What did she say?"
"She didn't answer me," lied Merriam. "I told her to think it over. She was impressed all right. And when I left I told Margery I was going to send you around."
"What did Margery say?" asked Simpson quickly.
"She said yes, you should come."
Simpson drew a deep breath and stopped short at a corner.
"I'm very much obliged to you, sir," he said, looking quickly at Merriam and quickly away again.
Merriam held out his hand.
"Good luck!" he said.
Simpson grasped the hand and shook it intensely. Then, resuming his really admirable self-control, he said:
"We turn down here. I'm going to take you up a fire escape. It's the only way. You can't go into a hotel in the regular way even at this time of night without being seen."
They turned into an alley which ran behind the Hotel De Soto, and presently came to a door--a servants' entrance--in the ugly blank wall of yellow brick.
Simpson opened the door, and they passed into a bare hallway, pine-floored, plaster-walled, lighted at intervals by unshaded, low-powered incandescents.
Many doors of yellow pine opened on both sides of this hall, but Simpson, walking rapidly and quietly, passed them all, turned into a further stretch of hallway, narrower and still more dimly lighted, and stopped before a door of iron--evidently a fire door. He got out a key and unlocked this door, and they emerged into the air again in the inner court of the hotel, a great dismal well, the depository of drifts of soot, accentuated here and there by scraps of paper and other rubbish, and the haunt, for reasons difficult to understand, of the indomitable, grimy wild pigeons of the Loop.
Simpson closed the iron door behind them and began a searching scrutiny of the rows of windows. All but half a dozen or so were dark. It looked safe.
Satisfied, Simpson walked twenty feet or more along the side of the court and stopped below a fire escape. The platform at the lower end of the iron stairway was placed too high for a man to reach it from the ground unaided.
"Give me a boost," said Simpson. He stooped and placed the camera on the ground.
In a moment Merriam had hoisted him up, so that he could catch hold of the end of the platform and pull himself on to it. Then Simpson lay down on his stomach and dropped his arms over the edge of the platform. Merriam first handed up the camera and then with a little jump caught his hands and was drawn up until he in his turn could get hold of the edge of the landing and scramble on to it.
A moment later they were erect and had begun stealthily to mount the narrow stairs.
It seemed to Merriam that they went up interminably--a short flight--a turn--another short flight--along a platform past sleeping windows--another flight. He got out of breath, and began to feel very tired. The effect of Margery's coffee was wearing off.
But at last Simpson stopped on one of the platforms and peered through a window. It was one of which the shades were not drawn at all and was open about two inches at the bottom.
"This is it," said Simpson, and he stooped, opened the window, and climbed in.
As soon as Merriam had followed, Simpson closed the window and drew the shade. Then he crossed the dark room and pushed a switch.
"Where are we?" asked Merriam.
"This room is next to Senator Norman's bedroom," said Simpson, "on the other side from the sitting room. The couple who had it left this evening, and Mr. Rockwell has taken it for you under the name of Wilson. Mr. Rockwell will be expecting us."
He moved to a door at the side and knocked softly four times--once, twice, and once again.
Almost immediately a key was turned on the other side, the door was opened, and Rockwell stood surveying them.
There was only a dim light in the room behind him. With a glance over his shoulder at the bed where the sick Senator lay--the same bed in which Merriam had played at being sick on the previous afternoon,--he entered the new room and closed the door.
"You've made it!" he said. "Thank Heaven! You weren't seen, Simpson?"
"I think not, sir."
He looked closely at Merriam. "You're tired," he said.
"I sure am."
"Well, so am I. What a day! And to-morrow will be as bad. Maybe worse. Never again will I father an impostor. But we've got to see it through this time. Sit down. Have a cigarette, and tell me what happened at the flat. Then I'll let you go to bed and snatch a few hours' sleep. You must be in fighting trim to-morrow, you know--for the speech!"
Merriam took the proffered cigarette and dropped gratefully into a chair. Rockwell and Simpson also sat down.
"How's Senator Norman?" Merriam asked.
"Sick. Hobart looks serious, but he says he'll pull around in a day or two. He's dosing him heavily. You've simply got to stay by us and play the game until he's on his feet again."
"I suppose so. Well----"
He was about to repeat the summary of the events of his evening which he had already given Simpson, so as to get it over and get to bed. But before he could begin a knock sounded at the side door through which Rockwell had entered.
Simpson went to the door and opened it. It was Dr. Hobart.
"Miss Norman and Mrs. Norman want to come in," he said.
Rockwell hesitated. No doubt he would have preferred to hear Merriam's story himself first, without even Aunt Mary present.
Merriam meanwhile sat up, suddenly forgetting his fatigue: he was to see Mollie June still that night. He had not hoped for that.
"I supposed they would have gone to bed," he said, to cover his involuntary show of interest.
"No," said Rockwell. "After the dinner party they waited for me to come back with Norman, of course. Then he was so ill that Hobart kept us all busy for a couple of hours doing things. We didn't want to get in a nurse on account of--you, you know. And then they wanted to wait till you came. We expected you a long time ago. Well," he added, turning to the physician, "tell them to come along."
It was at least a minute before they arrived. Merriam was oddly nervous. He had been through strange scenes since he had left Mollie June in the Peacock Cabaret, and she must have divined as much.
They entered, Aunt Mary first with Mollie June behind her, and Merriam and Rockwell rose. The two women were dressed just as they had been at the dinner party--Aunt Mary in the black evening gown and Mollie June in the filmy rose. Mollie June looked just a little pale and tired, but Aunt Mary had not turned a hair.
"Well, young man," began the older woman briskly, "you've kept us up till a pretty time of night. What was happening there where you were when Mr. Rockwell telephoned? Sit down and tell us."
Evidently Aunt Mary, conscious of the ungodly hour, did not think it necessary to allow Merriam time for even a formal greeting of her young sister-in-law, who had stopped uncertainly in the doorway.
But Merriam was not to be hurried to quite that degree, whatever the time of night or morning might be. He turned to Mollie June.
"You're coming in, aren't you? Take this chair."
He pushed a rocker towards her, concerned at her evident fatigue.
She came forward and sat down, then raised her eyes to him with a grave "Thank you."
For a moment Merriam did not understand that steady, unsmiling look. Then he thought he did understand. It had a questioning quality. Mollie June's mind was at ease now about her husband, since he was back and not supposed to be seriously ill, and she, like Simpson earlier, was wondering--not that it concerned her, of course--how Merriam had spent the night--so large a part of it--at Jennie's flat. She, too, knew Jennie, to the extent at least of having seen and in a measure comprehended her. Perhaps even in a Mollie June there is that which enables her to understand a Jennie and her lure for a youthful male. He remembered Mollie June's description of her and the cool detachment with which it had been uttered: "She's pretty and sweet, and--warm."
For just an instant Merriam was slightly confused. He had verified that description--all of it.
It is to be feared that his embarrassment, slight and merely instantaneous though it was, did not escape Mollie June. She dropped her eyes, still unsmiling.
Merriam's second sketch of his evening's adventures differed from the one he had given Simpson in being fuller and in two particular points: first, of course, in omitting reference to his missionary efforts in Simpson's behalf, which, however laudable, were hardly for the ears of Mollie June; and, second, in including mention of Jennie's change into her ballet costume--because he realised as he talked that the pictures, to be developed in the morning, would exhibit that detail most unmistakably and that he would do well to prepare Mollie June's mind--and Simpson's, for that matter--in advance. But he laid his emphasis on the more dramatic episodes--the hurled revolver, the tying up, the flash lights, and Crockett's angry exit. He told it humorously and well, and was rewarded by Mollie June's interest. Her questioning gravity disappeared, and she followed him with eager attention and with a return of pretty colour to her cheeks.
Aunt Mary and Rockwell--not to mention Simpson--also listened attentively. When Merriam had finished they looked at each other.
"Well," said Rockwell, "I'm not sure but that it would have been better to let him go as soon as you had told him your yarn, but on the whole I think you did mighty well. Those pictures may come in handy."
Aunt Mary rose. "You certainly are an enterprising young man, Mr. Merriam," she said dryly. "Now go to bed and get some sleep. You make your début as an orator at noon, you know! Come, Mollie June."
"Good night, Miss Norman," said Merriam, and he advanced to Mollie June, who had also risen.
"Good night, Mrs. Mollie June." He dropped his voice for the last three words and held out his hand.
She took it with an unconscious happy smile.
"Good night--Mr. John," she said.
Whatever she may have feared or suspected his story had established an alibi for him.
CHAPTER XXIV
THE REFORM LEAGUE
"Quarter to ten," said Rockwell cheerily. "I've let you sleep to the last possible moment. Here's your breakfast on the stand. Better eat it and drink your coffee first. Then a shave and get at this." He indicated a small pile of manuscript on the writing table. "Your speech, Senator!" he grinned.
"Good Lord!" groaned Merriam, remembering everything. He perceived also that he was to breakfast alone--no Mollie June. But the sight of the manuscript fascinated and aroused him. He realised, as he had not done before, that within a few hours he was to make a public address in a great Chicago club before many of the city's most prominent men and women--on what subject even he had no idea!
"Good Lord!" he said again and put his feet out. "How's Senator Norman?" he asked.
"Sleeping now," said Rockwell. "Hobart thinks he can get him on his feet by night. He's due to start for Cairo this evening, you know, on a stumping trip." Then quickly: "You'll find these sliced oranges refreshing. Have your bath first if you want to."
Merriam was in the midst of his breakfast when Rockwell returned. "By the way," he said, "here are your pictures," and he took some unmounted prints from an envelope.
Merriam reached for them with curiosity and something like trepidation. They were not good flash lights--a little blurred,--but the faces and attitudes were unmistakable. Jennie's foot and leg extending forward across the table were very much in evidence in the first of them.
"Rather striking poses," commented Rockwell.
"Jennie's invention," said Merriam defensively.
"No doubt. Well, they could hardly be better for their purpose. I think Crockett will go slow all right."
"Have--has Miss Norman seen them?"
"Yes. And Simpson, of course." For a moment Rockwell quizzically regarded Merriam's face, in which a further unspoken question was anxiously plain. Then he answered it: "No one else. Mrs. Norman is still sleeping. I'm not sure Aunt Mary will consider them proper pictures for her to see anyway. Come," he added briskly, "you've eaten only one piece of toast. You must get outside of at least one more piece. And then shave. I'll strop your razor for you. I'm your valet this morning, Senator."
With a sigh Merriam glanced at the waiting speech and tackled a second piece of toast, with the feeling that its mastication was a task of almost impossible difficulty. He achieved it, however, to the rhythmic accompaniment of Rockwell's stropping, consumed another cup of coffee--his third, I regret to say,--and proceeded to shave.
At last Merriam was collared and tied and was slipping into his coat. Rockwell rose and laid down the manuscript.
"Ready?" he said. "Very good. You can get to work. It's a quarter past ten. The luncheon is at twelve-thirty. But we shan't appear at the luncheon itself. Too dangerous. You'd have to meet a lot of men who know the Senator--meet them face to face in cold daylight and talk to them. We'd never get away with it. So I'll telephone that you've been detained by important business but will be in for the speeches. That way we'll come in by ourselves, with everybody else set and no opportunity for personal confabulations. You'll have to run the gauntlet of their eyes, of course. But you can do that."
Earnestly for a moment he scrutinised Merriam's face and figure, as if to reassure himself that the astounding imposture had been and was still really possible.
"Yes," he continued confidently, "that'll be all right. The speeches are scheduled to begin at one-fifteen. We'll leave here at five or ten minutes after one. That gives you nearly three hours to salt down the speech. You can learn it verbatim or only master the outline and substance and give it in your own words. Perhaps you'd better learn a good deal of it just as it is. Aunt Mary has it chock-full of the Senator's pet words and phrases. Your own style might be too different. Do you commit easily?"
"Fairly so," said Merriam. As a matter of fact the speech itself presented few terrors to him. He had done a good deal of debating and declaiming in college, and of course in his capacity as principal of the high school he was called upon for "a few words" on every conceivable occasion in Riceville.
"Good. Go to it, then. I'll make myself scarce. Here are cigarettes. You won't be disturbed.Au revoir, Senator! If you want anything, knock on this door. Either Hobart or I will answer."
Grinning, Rockwell departed into the real, the sick Senator's, bedroom, leaving Merriam with the typewritten manuscript.
He worked away for a couple of hours, sometimes sitting down, more often walking back and forth, occasionally refreshing himself with a cigarette, and faithfully learning by heart Aunt Mary's Senator Norman's speech on "Municipal Reform."
By half past twelve he had mastered it to his satisfaction. He decided to go through with it once more by the clock. It was designed, as he knew from a pencil note at the top of the first page, to take thirty minutes. He did so, and came out at the end by five minutes to one.
Evidently his delivery was a little more rapid than Senator Norman's. He must remember to speak slowly.
He had just reached this conclusion when a knock sounded at the side door and Rockwell entered.
"I've got it by heart," said Merriam.
"Good! Come into the sitting room, then. You're to have a cup of coffee and a sandwich before you start."
"Fine. I am a bit hollow. How's the Senator?"
Rockwell looked worried, but answered, "Sleeping again now. Come along if you're ready."
"In a minute."
Merriam bathed his face and hands, folded the speech and put it in his pocket, and followed Rockwell across the Senator's bedroom, with just a glance at the sick man in the bed and a nod to Dr. Hobart, who sat by the window with a newspaper into the sitting room.
After his morning of intense, solitary labour he was somewhat nonplused for a moment by the size of the company he found assembled there--Aunt Mary and Mollie June, of course, Alicia, Mr. Wayward, and Father Murray. He said good morning to each of them.
Alicia reminded him that it was really afternoon now.
"We shall meet Black in the car," said Rockwell. "Then the roll of the conspirators will be complete!"
Mollie June, who had had no speech to learn, had slept late and was now as blooming as ever.
"We're all going to hear you," she said as she gave Merriam her hand.
"Good Heavens!" he said, with a twinge of the stage fright which he had thus far had no time to feel. "I shouldn't mind the others, but you----"
He left that dangerous remark unfinished.
To Aunt Mary he said: "I've learned the speech by heart. I admire it very much," and was pleased to note that even Aunt Mary had an author's susceptibility to praise.
Meanwhile Simpson, who was in attendance, had poured out a cup of coffee, and Mollie June brought it to him with a sandwich on a plate.
"Won't you sit down to eat it?" she asked, regarding him with a look of awe which flattered him enormously and served to quiet his rising nervousness.
(Mollie June had taken oratory of all degrees and on all possible occasions on the part of Norman as a matter of course, but the thought that John Merriam, who was only a little older than herself and had taken her to "sociables" and had wanted to make love to her but had not dared, was about to address the distinguished Urban Club of Chicago at one of its formidable luncheons filled her with admiration.)
"Thank you," he said, taking the coffee and the sandwich. "No, I think I'll eat it standing." But he smiled at her with the confidence which her admiration had given him, thereby increasing the admiration--a pleasing psychological circle.
But now Rockwell was at his side and barely gave him time to finish his sandwich and gulp down the coffee.
"Miss Norman and the Senator and I go with Mayor Black in the Senator's car," said that master of ceremonies and conspiracies. "The other four of you are to follow in the Mayor's machine. Here's your coat and hat."
Along the hall--down in the elevator--through the lobby to the pavement--Merriam had only a dazed sense of being part of an irresistible, conspicuous procession which was carrying him whither he had no strong desire to go.
A limousine was already drawn up at the curb, and the hotel starter was deferentially holding the door.
Mayor Black was already within the car.
"Ah, Senator," the Mayor ejaculated, "I'm glad to see you up again, and to have you--really you--coming to the Reform League!"
For an instant Merriam did not understand. Then he realised that the Mayor thought he was addressing the real Senator Norman. It was a good omen for the continued success of his impersonation.
He sank into the seat opposite the Mayor, who was facing forward with Aunt Mary beside him. Rockwell climbed in and sat next to Merriam. The door slammed, and the machine started.
Then, as the Mayor still beamed at him and as neither of the others spoke, Merriam said gently:
"I'm still the impostor, I'm afraid, Mr. Mayor."
"Eh!"
The Mayor leaned forward to scrutinise his face and then turned as if bewildered and still unconvinced to Rockwell.
"Yes," said Rockwell. "I tried to get you on the 'phone this morning, but your line was busy, and I didn't have a chance to try again. The Senator is still sick. Worse, in fact. Mr. Merriam is going to keep the Senator's engagement at the Urban Club for him."
"My God!" cried the Mayor. "Speak before all those people! You never can do it!"
"Yes, we can," said Rockwell, with smiling serenity. "You were fooled again yourself just now," he pointed out.
The Mayor groaned. "Then we still don't know where Senator Norman himself will stand when he's up," he said.
"I telephoned you yesterday that he had agreed to everything," said Aunt Mary coldly. "That was true."
"While he was sick," said Black. "Will he stick to it when he's well again?"
"He'll have to stick," said Rockwell. "Ten times more so after this speech. He can't possibly go back on that."
"If this Mr.--Mr. Merriam," said the Mayor, eyeing him with profound dislike, "is unmasked at the Urban Club, it would be the utter ruin of us all."
"It undoubtedly would," replied Rockwell cheerfully. "All the more reason why we should all keep a stiff upper lip and play up for him."
"No!" cried the Mayor. "It's insane! Stop the car! I'll step into the nearest store and telephone that the Senator has fainted in the cab and can't appear. Anything is better than this awful risk."
He put out his hand for the cord to signal to the chauffeur. But Rockwell roughly struck his arm down.
"Sit still!" he commanded savagely. "Do you want us to choke you again? This car goes on to the Urban Club. Senator Norman has a fine speech, and he'll make it well. No one will suspect. The thing has the one essential characteristic of successful imposture--boldness to the point of impossibility. If any one notices any slight change in his appearance or voice or manner, it will be put down to his illness. It will cinch the whole thing as nothing else could. You've got to go through with it, Mayor."
Mr. Black groaned again and relapsed into a dismal silence.
Fortunately he did not have long to brood, nor Merriam long to work up the nervousness which this dialogue had naturally renewed in him. In a couple of minutes after the Mayor's second and more lamentable groan the limousine stopped before the imposing entrance of the Urban Club.
"Sit tight, Mayor!" Rockwell warned.
Then the doorman of the Club opened the car, and Rockwell descended and helped Aunt Mary out and Merriam and the Mayor followed.
Inside their coats and the men's hats were quickly taken from them by efficient checkroom boys, and they were guided immediately to the elevator. The speeches had already begun upstairs, some one said.
They stepped out into the hallway outside the Club's big dining room. From inside came the noise of clapping. Some one had just finished speaking.
"This is our chance," said Rockwell, meaning doubtless that they could best enter during the interlude between speeches. "Go ahead, Senator. Take the Mayor's arm!"
In a moment they were passing through a group of tuxedoed servants at the door. Merriam was conscious of a large room in pleasant tones of brown with a low raftered ceiling and many windows of small leaded panes. The tables were arranged in the form of a great horseshoe, with the closed end--the speakers' table--opposite the door. The horseshoe was lined inside and out with guests, perhaps two hundred in all--men who looked either distinguished or intelligent, occasionally both, and women who were either distinguished or intelligent or beautiful--from some points of view the great city's best.
Then came the turning of many eyes to look at himself and Mayor Black, and the toastmaster at the center of the speakers' table rose and called to them:
"Senator! Mayor! This way."
He pointed to two empty chairs on either side of his own.
Merriam nodded, and, still propelling the semi-comatose Black, circled one side of the horseshoe, giving the line of guests as wide a berth as he could, to avoid possible contretemps from personal greetings to which he might be unable to make suitable response.
Arrived at the speakers' table, he shook hands warmly with the toastmaster--a bald, benevolent-looking man of much aplomb, whose name he never learned--and with two or three other men from nearby chairs--evidently personal acquaintances of Senator Norman's--who rose to welcome him, making talk the while of apologies for being late. Presently he found himself seated at the toastmaster's right, facing the distinguished company. No one had betrayed any suspicion. The imposture was, in fact, as Rockwell had said, so bold as to be unthinkable.
Mayor Black had meanwhile been seated at the toastmaster's left, and Rockwell and Aunt Mary had been guided to two vacant seats at the left end of the speakers' table. The necessity of greeting friends had somewhat roused the Mayor, who had found his tongue and managed to respond, though for him haltingly.
The toastmaster leaned towards Merriam and whispered:
"You're to speak last, Senator. Colonel Edwards is next, then Mayor Black, then you."
With that he rose and felicitated the company on the arrival of the two distinguished servants of the City and the Nation between whom he now had the honour to sit.
He then introduced Colonel Edwards, a stout, quite unmilitary-looking gentleman, who was earnestly interested and mildly interesting on the subject of good roads for the space of fifteen minutes.
Merriam's attention was distracted almost at the beginning of Colonel Edwards' speech by the arrival at the entrance of the dining room, now directly opposite him, of the second taxi-load from the hotel. Alicia caught Merriam's eye and smiled at him mischievously. Evidently she was enjoying the situation to the full. Mollie June, on the other hand, though deliciously crowned with a small blossomy hat of obvious expensiveness, was entirely grave, her eyes fixed almost too steadily and too anxiously on our youthful hero, where he sat in the seats of the mighty, outwardly at least as much at ease as if he had been accustomed for thirty years to find himself at the speakers' table of historic clubs.
Colonel Edwards suddenly sat down. He was one of those rare public speakers who occasionally disconcert their audiences by stopping when they are through.
The toastmaster gasped, but rose to his feet and the occasion and called upon Mayor Black.
As the Mayor slowly rose Merriam was most uncomfortably anxious--uncertain whether the city's chief executive was even yet sufficiently master of himself to face an audience successfully. But Mr. Black was one of those gentlemen, not uncommon in public life, who are apparently more at ease before an audience than in any other situation. His great mellow voice boomed forth, and Merriam relaxed. That speech was hardly, perhaps, one of the Mayor's masterpieces. But that mattered little, of course. He produced an admirably even flow of head tones. Itsoundedlike a perfectly good speech.
Merriam, at any rate, was quite oblivious of any lack of strict logical coherence in the Mayor's remarks. He was suddenly smitten by the realisation that his own turn came next. For a moment he fought a panic of blankness, then mentally grabbed at the opening sentences of what he had so carefully committed during the morning. Outwardly serene and attentive to the speaker, inwardly he hastily rehearsed his first half dozen paragraphs, and, winking his eyes somewhat rapidly perhaps, fixed the outline of the rest of it in his mind.
The Mayor rose to a climax of thunderous tone and eloquent gesture and sat. Loud applause followed.
Across the clapping hands Merriam glanced at Mr. Wayward and Alicia and Mollie June where they sat at one side of the horseshoe. The other two were clapping, but Mollie June was not. He thought she looked pale, but of course he was too far away to be sure. "She is afraid for me," he thought, and gratitude for her interest mingled with a fine resolve to show her that she had no cause for fear--that he would give a good account of himself anywhere--for her.
The glow of that resolution carried him through the ordeal of the toastmaster's introduction and brought him to his feet with smiling alacrity at the proper moment.
The applause was hearty. There is magic still, strange as it may seem, in the word "senator." He was forced to bow again and again.
Then he struck into his speech--Aunt Mary's speech. He found himself letter-perfect. He had at least half his mind free to attend to his delivery. He gave it slowly, impressively, grandly facing first one part of his audience and then another. George Norman himself before packed galleries in the Senate Chamber at Washington had never done better. And it was a good speech, deftly conceived, clearly reasoned, aptly worded. Merriam himself in all his morning's study of it had not realised how perfectly it was adapted to the occasion and the audience. Down at the far end of the speakers' table, the female author of it sat unnoticed, watching with tight-pressed lips its effect; her only right to be there, if any one had asked you, the accident of her relationship to the wonderful Senator.
He reached the end. As he rounded out the last sentence his eyes rested triumphantly for a second on Mollie June. Whether or not her cheeks had been pale before, they were flushed now. He sat down.
The room rocked. The applause this time was no mechanical reaction. It was an ovation. The toastmaster leaped to his feet with ponderous agility and grabbed for Merriam's hand. The latter found himself standing, the center of a group of excited men, all of whom he must pretend to know, overwhelming him with congratulations.
Behind him he caught a remark that was doubtless not intended for his ears: "How the devil does he keep his youthful looks and fire? He might be twenty-five!"
Then Rockwell charged into the group, excited himself, but persistent with the formula, "Pressing engagement," and got him out of the room, and into the elevator, and through the hallway on the first floor, with his hat and coat restored, and into the limousine, which darted away for the hotel.
CHAPTER XXV
SECOND COUNCIL OF WAR
Merriam and Rockwell were alone in the Senator's car.
Merriam leaned back against the cushions and closed his eyes. He was at once fatigued and excited. It almost seemed to him that he was still addressing the Urban Club. Then he seemed to be talking still but to a single auditor--a girl with flushed cheeks and eyes that shone with excited pride.
He opened his eyes. Rockwell was regarding him steadily. "I don't wonder you feel done up," he said. "It was splendid, my boy. You spoke like a veteran. You ought to go into public life on your own. Perhaps you will." He seemed to meditate. Then: "You saw Crockett, I suppose?"
"No!" exclaimed Merriam.
"Didn't you? He was seated six places to your right at the speakers' table. Right in line with you, of course. Not strange you missed him. Just as well, perhaps. It might have shaken evenyournerve."
The phrase "evenyournerve" was pleasant praise to Merriam. He had never thought of himself as possessed of any exceptionalsang froid. But perhaps he had behaved with rather creditable composure in a trying situation.
"Hewas shaken, I can tell you," Rockwell was saying. "Lord, I was on pins! I didn't know but what when you rose to speak he would jump up and denounce you. But not he. He simply lay back and stared and kept moistening his lips. I suppose he couldn't make up his mind for sure whether you were the Senator or the double or whether he himself had gone crazy or not. We'll hear from him, though," he added reflectively.
"I suppose so," said Merriam wearily. "I wish to Heaven we were clean through the thing!" That feeling had come suddenly, and for the moment he meant it, though he was having the time of his life.
"So do I," said Rockwell heartily. "But we're not. Not by a long shot. So you must buck up. Here's the hotel. You shall have a real meal now. That'll put heart into you again."
The machine stopped, and the door was opened.
"Quick time, now!" Rockwell whispered.
Senator Norman and his new political manager, Mr. Rockwell of the Reform League, rushed almost precipitately into the lobby of the Hotel De Soto and made a bee line for the nearest elevator. It was obvious that important business urgently called them, for they merely nodded hurriedly in response to several cordial salutations.
As the elevator shot up Rockwell leaned heavily against the side of the car, took off his hat, though there was no one with them, drew a deep breath, and comically winked both eyes at Merriam.
"What a life!" he ejaculated.
Stepping out at Floor Three, they were greeted by the spectacle of Dr. Hobart bending over the floor clerk's desk and evidently having a delightful tête-à-tête with the handsome young mistress of that sanctum, whose eyes were coquettishly raised to his, though her head was slightly bent--for she was smelling an American Beauty rose. A large vase of the same expensive flowers adorned one corner of her desk.
Only a momentary glimpse did Merriam and Rockwell have of this pretty tableau, for Dr. Hobart at once straightened up as if in some embarrassment and came towards them.
"I was just thinking it was about time for you to be back," he said, though he surely did not expect them to believe that he had just been thinking anything of the sort.
The pretty floor clerk, no whit nonplused, bowed and smiled at Rockwell. But she studiously failed to observe Senator Norman's presence.
Dr. Hobart walked down the hall with them.
"How's Norman?" Rockwell asked.
"No better, I'm afraid," said the physician apologetically. "He has a high fever, and a while ago he was slightly delirious. I had to give him more of the drug. He's sleeping again now. Simpson is with him, of course."
"Damn!" said Rockwell, with a sort of deliberate earnestness.
They reached the sitting room and entered it. There was no one there. Simpson was apparently in the Senator's bedroom. Merriam dropped into a chair and closed his eyes again. Rockwell walked across to a window and stood staring out. Dr. Hobart stopped uncertainly in the middle of the room and fiddled with a cigarette without being able to make up his mind to light it. For several moments none of them spoke.
But Rockwell was not the man to remain long in any apathy of inaction. He turned suddenly, and Merriam, whom the prolonged unnatural silence had caused to open his eyes, saw that he had made up his mind to something.
"Hobart," he said, "I suppose Simpson isn't practically necessary in there." He indicated the sick room.
"N-no," said Dr. Hobart, "I suppose not. He's just watching. Norman will sleep soundly for some time."
"Then ask him to come here, will you?"
The physician disappeared into the bedroom and in a moment returned with Simpson.
"Simpson," said Rockwell, "we're going to have a meal here, for nine people. A luncheon, if you like. But make it hearty. Choose the stuff yourself, and serve it as quickly as you can, please."
For a moment Simpson stared. Then, as if remembering a nearly forgotten cue, he replied submissively, "Yes, sir," and turned to the door.
As that door closed behind Simpson, Merriam suddenly stood up.
"I must send a telegram to Riceville," he said, starting for the writing table for a blank.
"Wait a bit," said Rockwell. "You can send it just as well an hour from now."
Merriam was disposed to argue, but just then the rest of their party trooped in, having returned to the hotel in Mayor Black's car.
Alicia walked straight up to Merriam, gay with enthusiasm, caught his hand, and squeezed it.
"My dear boy," she cried, "it was perfectly splendid! I've half a mind to kiss you!"
"Please do," said Merriam.
"I will," said Alicia promptly, and before the young man could realise what was happening she had put her gloved hands on his shoulders and kissed him on one cheek.
Merriam was vastly astonished. In the circles in which he had moved in Riceville or even at college, his remark could have been taken only as a daring pleasantry. But he undoubtedly hadsang froid, for he concealed his confusion, or most of it, and said:
"Let me turn the other cheek."
"Oh, I mustn't be a pig," said Alicia. "I'll leave the other cheek for Mollie June."
At this Merriam's confusion became, I fear, perfectly apparent, for the remainder of the party had followed Alicia into the room and were grouped about him.
"Kiss him quick, Mollie dear," said the incorrigible Alicia, thereby causing confusion in a second person present.
But Mayor Black, no longer to be restrained, saved the situation. He seized Merriam's hand and pumped it.
"One of the best speeches I ever heard the Senator make!" he asserted, in tones which Merriam feared might rouse the real Senator in the adjoining room.
Mr. Wayward meanwhile was patting him on the back and murmuring, "Fine! Excellent!"
Merriam turned to Aunt Mary:
"I tried to do it justice," he said.
"You gave it exceedingly well," said Aunt Mary, with less reserve than he had ever seen her exhibit before.
"Indeed you did!" cried Mollie June earnestly, her eyes shining with sincerity.
And that tribute, from the least qualified judge of them all, was, I regret to state, the one which young Merriam treasured the most.
Simpson, who had worked with amazing alacrity, and even inspired his assistants to celerity had completed his preparations and announced that he was ready to serve the luncheon.
Rockwell delayed the meal for several minutes the sake of an apparently important conference into which he had drawn Mr. Wayward and the Mayor over by the window.
Presently, however, they all sat down, with Merriam beside Mollie June. The luncheon passed, as luncheons do, in small talk and anecdote.
At last Rockwell, having finished the last morsel of a piece of French pastry, laid down his fork and fixed his eyes significantly on Mr. Wayward, who was in mid-career with something like his fifteenth anecdote. Mr. Wayward faltered but rallied and finished his story. It was the best one he had told, but there was only perfunctory laughter. Every one about the table was looking at Rockwell, realising that at last the great question that was in all their minds, "What are we to do next?" was to be discussed and decided. Simpson, it should be added, had dismissed his assistants as soon as the dessert course was served, so that only the initiated were present.
Three times during the meal Dr. Hobart had left the table to enter the sick room. On the second occasion he had remained away some minutes. Rockwell now turned to him.
"Give us your report, Doctor," he said abruptly.
"Well," replied the physician, "he is better. Half an hour ago he was awake for perhaps five minutes. His temperature is lower, though he still has some fever. He is sleeping again now, more quietly than at any time since he returned to the hotel. In short, he is doing as well as could be expected. But it is out of the question for him to start on that speech-making tour this evening."
"Undoubtedly," said Aunt Mary, with much decision.
"Just so," said Rockwell. "That being the case, two alternatives present themselves: to announce his illness and call off the trip, or to go on playing the game as we have begun, with Mr. Merriam's help."
Merriam gasped and opened his mouth to protest, but Rockwell waved him down.
"The Mayor and Mr. Wayward and I have been discussing the matter. At first blush, there may seem to be little question as to which of these two courses we should pursue. Having come safely--so far as we know at least--through all the perils of discovery thus far, it may seem that we should tempt fortune no further, but let Mr. Merriam return to his school, publish the fact of the Senator's illness, and cancel the speaking engagements."
"Surely yes," interjected Merriam, and Aunt Mary and Father Murray and Mollie June and even Alicia seemed to assent.
"On further consideration," Rockwell continued imperturbably, "I think you will all see that the thing is not so clear. The course I have just suggested may be--doubtless is--the more prudent one, if prudence were all, but it is decidedly unfair to George Norman."
At this Aunt Mary almost visibly pricked up her ears.
"In his name," Rockwell went on, "we have thrown over the conservative wing of the party, with whom he has always stood and who have supported him--have 'betrayed' them, as they will put it, in this traction matter and in aligning him with the Reform League. We did so on the theory that he was to appeal to the people and to come back stronger than ever as the leader of the new and growing progressive element, which is sure to be dominant in the next election if only they can find such a leader as Norman could be. But if we cancel this trip and let him drop out of the campaign, if we stop now, where will he be? He will have lost his old backers and will not have made new ones. He will be politically dead. We shall have played absolutely into the hands of Crockett and Thompson and the rest of the gang, and shall have accomplished nothing but the political ruin of George Norman."
All the persons about the table except Mayor Black and Mr. Wayward stared hard at Rockwell as this new view of their predicament sank into their minds. The Mayor and Mr. Wayward smiled and nodded and watched the effect on the others. Particularly they watched Merriam, who sat dumfounded and vaguely alarmed. What new entanglements was Rockwell devising for him? He must get back to Riceville. Involuntarily--he could not have said why--he cast a quick glance at Mollie June, and encountered a similar glance from her. They both looked away in confusion.
Aunt Mary spoke:
"Tell us your plan."
It was like her--that masterful acceptance, without comment, of the situation.
"My plan, as you call it," said Rockwell, fixing his eyes not on Aunt Mary but on Merriam, "is simply that we should go on for another day or two as we have begun--play the game for George until he can take the cards in his own hands. This is Thursday. He is scheduled to leave this evening for Cairo, to speak there at nine o'clock to-morrow morning, to go on to East St. Louis for a talk before the Rotary Club at noon, and then up to Springfield for an address in the evening. Is that correct?"
"Yes," said Aunt Mary. "And he was to speak in Bloomington and Peoria on Saturday and in Moline and Freeport on Sunday."
"The speeches are all ready, I believe?"
"Yes. George and I outlined them together some time ago, and I have them written and typed."
"Exactly. Turn the manuscripts over to Mr. Merriam as you did this morning. He will have time on the train on the way to each place to master the speech to be given at that point. We shall take a special car. Mr. Wayward and I will go with him. You"--he was addressing Aunt Mary--"and the Mayor and Dr. Hobart--and Simpson," he added, glancing up at the waiter, who stood listening in the background,--"and the rest of you will stay here to guard George. That will be easy when the newspapers are full of his speeches out in the State."
"Mr. Crockett will know," said Father Murray timidly.
"He may suspect," said Rockwell with a grin. "But if you keep every one away from George--conceal his presence here,--he can't be sure whether it's George himself or his double who is speech-making over the State. And if he were sure, he wouldn't dare denounce him. Thanks to Mr. Merriam's clever trick last night, he has a particularly strong reason for keeping his mouth shut. If on the other hand we give up and lie down--cancel the trip,--he can easily start all manner of nasty stories about his escapades. I'm sorry to say it, but George has a pretty widespread sporting reputation." Rockwell glanced apologetically at Mollie June, but continued. "When a man with such a character is laid up, people are ready to believe anything except that he is really legitimately sick. Things will be safer here than they would be if we abandoned our trick. And our part out in the State will be 'nuts,' compared to what it was at the Urban Club this noon, for instance. Very few people out there know Norman well. There is no question at all that Mr. Merriam will get by. And we know from this noon that he will make the speeches in fine shape."
"The speeches will need to be altered a bit," said Aunt Mary, "if they are to appeal to the progressives."
"Mr. Merriam can attend to that on the train," said Rockwell. "Soften the standpattism and throw in some progressive dope. Can't you?" He appealed to Merriam.
"I suppose I could," said Merriam, "but--my school."
"I know," said Rockwell, "but it will be only a day or two longer. We'll telegraph again, of course. If you were really sick, as we've been telling them, they'd have to get along, wouldn't they? You've got to see us through. We must keep the ball rolling. It will probably be only one more day. George will be able to travel to-morrow, I presume?" he asked of Dr. Hobart. "By noon, anyway?"
"By noon, I hope," said the physician with cheerful optimism.
"You see?" said Rockwell. "George can catch the noon train for Springfield and get there in time to take on the evening speech. Mr. Merriam will have made the two at Cairo and East St. Louis. He can go back to Riceville from Springfield."
Just then the telephone rang, and I believe every person in the room jumped.
Rockwell rose to answer it.
"Senator Norman? Yes, he is here. But he is engaged. This is Mr. Rockwell, his manager. You can give the message to me."
A moment later he put his hand over the receiver and turned to Merriam.
"He insists on speaking to the Senator. You'll have to answer. I think it's Crockett. For Heaven's sake, be careful!"
Merriam took the receiver:
"Hello!"
A voice which he remembered only too well from the night before at Jennie's replied:
"This is Mr. Crockett, I have the honour, I believe, of speaking to Mr. Merriam."
"You have the wrong number!" said Merriam and hung up.
But before he had had time to explain to the others or even to wonder whether he had done wisely, the bell jangled again. He turned back to the instrument. Rockwell came quickly to his side, and Merriam, taking down the receiver, held it so that his "manager" too should be able to hear what came over the wire.
"Hello!"
"Ah! Senator Norman, by your voice," said Crockett in tones of elaborate irony. "I wish to congratulate you, Senator, on your speech this noon. It was a magnificent effort. So full of progressive ideas and youthful virility!"
"Thank you," said Merriam.
"And, Senator, I really must see you right away. I am calling from the lobby. I will come up to your rooms at once, if I may. Or meet you anywhere else you say. It is of the utmost importance to you, Mr. Mer----" (he pretended to correct himself) "to you, Senator, as well as to me."
"Wait a minute," said Merriam. He put his hand over the mouthpiece and looked at Rockwell.
"Tell him you will see him at eight o'clock this evening, here."
Merriam repeated this message.
"Ateight?" said Crockett, with significant emphasis on the hour. "Very good, Senator. Thank you." He hung up.
Rockwell and Merriam turned to the others. Aunt Mary and the rest had risen. They were standing by their places about the table, looking rather scared.
"Eighto'clock?" questioned Aunt Mary, with an emphasis similar to Crockett's.
"Yes," said Rockwell doggedly. "Because"--he addressed Merriam--"your train goes at seven. At seven-thirty Miss Norman shall telephone Crockett, expressing your regret that you overlooked the fact that you would have to be gone by that time. Man alive!" he cried. "Don't you see? The Senator can't be sick now--after your public appearance this noon. Half the people who count in Chicago saw you--him, there--right as a trivet--obviously perfectly well. And we can't keepyouhere, with Crockett and Thompson continually nosing 'round. There's nothing for it but for you to start on that trip. The trip's a godsend. Write your telegram to Riceville!"
Merriam glanced around the circle of faces. Mad as the thing was, they all seemed to agree with Rockwell. Mayor Black and Mr. Wayward and even Simpson seemed to be asking him, as man to man, to stand by them. Father Murray was timidly expectant. Dr. Hobart, he noticed, was staring down at the table as if in thought. Aunt Mary, looking him full in the eyes, gave an affirmative nod. Alicia's eyes and shoulders registered appeal as conspicuously as if she had been a movie actress. And Mollie June seemed to be begging him not to desert her.
With a gesture of resignation he went over to the writing table and sat down to compose his third mendacious telegram to Riceville.