Past this he had a hazy notion that part of him--the observing part--stood aside and looked on while the other part slowly and painfully struggled out of its clothes and into its pajamas. Also he saw the other part, after it had carefully secreted the wrapped package of papers under the mattress, beat the pillows feebly and bury its head in them. After that there was a great blank.
XXVI
APPLES OF GOLD
Notwithstanding the pillow-m.u.f.fled plunge which was almost a lapse into the coma of utter exhaustion, Evan Blount awoke early on the Sunday morning, refreshed and measurably free from pain. Since the sun was just beginning to gild the lofty finial on the dome of the Capitol opposite, there was no one stirring as yet in the adjoining rooms of the suite, and the streets were silent save for the chanting cries of the newsboys.
Slipping out of bed, Blount crossed to the window and threw it open. It was good to be able to stand and walk without wincing; and a breath of the sunrise breeze sweeping down from the eastern hills was like a draught of invigorating wine. As he leaned out for an instant to make sure that not even the height would bring a return of the vertigo, the wail of the nearest newsboy became shrilly articulate: _"Here"s yer Morning Plainsman! All erbout the great election frauds!"_
Hardly crediting his ears, Blount listened again, and when the cry was repeated he closed the window softly and sat down to grapple with this newest development of his problem. Did the newsboy"s selling-cry mean that Blenkinsop had found out for himself, and independently, about the falsified registration lists? If so, there would be no public vindication for one Evan Blount; but also--thank G.o.d!--no need for a son to blazon himself to the world as his father"s accuser. A great wave of thankfulness rolled over Blount"s head, submerging him and turning the exclamation which sprang to his lips into a paean of rejoicing. Instantly he saw himself throwing up his railroad connection and taking his rightful place as his father"s counsel and defender. Here, at last, was a cause into which he could fling himself body and soul. True, people would say that he had been in league with the corporations, the boss, and the machine, from the first, but what did that matter?
But would his father need a defender? No shadow of doubt as to this was admissible in the face of the acc.u.mulating evidence, he told himself.
From the opening day of the campaign the machine and the corporations had been working hand in hand; Gryson and his fellow-crooks were the sufficient proof; and besides.... Blount reached under the mattress and drew out the wrapped package, untying the string with fingers that trembled. A cursory examination of the affidavits sufficed. In Gryson"s sworn statement, and in two others, the "Big Boss" was inculpated definitely and by name.
Blount glanced at the little clock on the dressing-case. The early Sunday morning silence still prevailed in the great hotel, and his resolve was quickly taken. Dressing hurriedly, he went up to his own room, and after a shave, a bath, and a freshening change which included the removal of the disfiguring bandage, he put on a close-fitting silk travelling-cap under the soft hat and went down to the lobby.
There were but few guests stirring at that hour, and Blount had the writing-room to himself when he bought a copy of _The Plainsman_ and turned anxiously to the editorial page. After the first thrilling of relief born of the newsboy"s cry, an unnerving fear had crept in to whisper that possibly the facts might not bear out the thankful a.s.sumption. A rapid reading of Blenkinsop"s editorial confirmed the fear, and the reader"s lips grew dry and his breath came quickly when he realized that the submerging wave of thankfulness had risen only to be driven back. Blenkinsop had no facts, no evidence; he was merely hitting out blindly with a general accusation of fraud which he made no effort to substantiate or prove!
Evan Blount saw the th.o.r.n.y path stretching away before him again, and he rose up to walk in it like a man. As once before, he went down to the railroad restaurant for his breakfast, seeking solitude, and the meal had been half-absently eaten before he had readjusted himself, sorrowfully but firmly, to the unchanged situation. His duty was as clearly defined now as it had been the day previous, or at any time in the past. There was nothing changed, nothing different, save that a new complication had arisen in the crucial shortness of the interval for action. Knowing human nature a little, he knew how difficult it is to arouse an effective public sentiment on the eve of an election, no matter how important the issues involved. In a hard school of experience the voter has learned to discount the final-moment cry of fraud. Would an exposure, however convincing, appearing only in the Monday and Tuesday morning newspapers have the desired effect?
Blount walked by devious ways from the railroad station to the Temple Court, and secluded himself behind the locked door of his office to have a chance to think the problem out to some effective conclusion. What should he do? Should he find Blenkinsop and get him and the United Press representative together at once, laying before them the d.a.m.ning evidence and telling them to use it as they could? Or was there some surer way of firing the mine of protest and exposure?
There was one other way, at least, but the mere thought of it made him sick and shaken. As an upright citizen and a member of the bar, was it not his duty to lay the evidence, not before the public in the newspapers, but before a competent court of justice? And in that event, was there in this land of graft and corruption a judge sufficiently fearless and incorruptible to act with the needful vigor and promptness?
When Blount asked himself this question, the answer came quickly. Though it was the common accusation, well or ill founded, that the lower courts of the State were the creatures of the corporations, the judges on the supreme bench still commanded the respect of the people. Hemingway, the chief justice, was peculiarly a man for a crisis; strong, honest, and entirely fearless; a man who would not stop to haggle over nice questions of precedent and jurisdiction where the public welfare demanded prompt and effective action.
For a long half-hour Blount sat staring absently at the desk litter, trying to decide between the two courses open to him. He knew that his father and Judge Hemingway had been lifelong friends, and this added another drop of bitterness to a cup which was already overflowing. None the less, he was confident that the judge would do his duty as he saw it. It was a merciless thing to do--to make this just judge the slayer of the friend of his youth; but at the end Blount reached for the telephone-book and began to search for the chief justice"s residence number. Before he could find it the phone bell rang.
"Well?" he answered shortly, putting the receiver to his ear.
It was Miss Anners who was at the other end of the wire, and he was instantly aware of the note of anxiety in her voice.
"_Evan!_" she exclaimed; "you don"t know what a fright you have given us! What are you doing at your office when you ought to be here and in bed?"
Blount drew the desk instrument closer and tried to put her off lightly.
"I"m all right again. I turned out early this morning to make up for lost time. You wouldn"t expect me to stay in bed for more than a day to oblige a common, ordinary coach-dog, would you?"
"Yes, but see here--listen: Doctor Dillon has been here, and he is perfectly shocked. He says there may be complications, and the very least you can do is to be careful. Your father has had the hotel boys looking everywhere for you. When are you coming back?"
Here was the direct question which Blount had been dreading. Now, if never before, the wretched involvement had reached a point beyond which it was impossible to follow his father"s plea for a continuance of the kinsman amenities.
"I think you had better leave me out of any plans you are making for the day," he answered evasively. "I shall be pretty busy."
"No--listen," she insisted. "It"s wrong to work on Sunday, but if you will be obstinate, you must stop at luncheon-time. We are going to drive out to Wartrace Hall this afternoon; Doctor Dillon says we positively _must_ take you away from town and keep you quiet for a few days."
"I can"t go with you," he answered brusquely, adding: "And I"m not sure that I can join you at luncheon. There is so much to be done that I shall probably drop around to the club for a bite at one o"clock. Don"t wait for me, and don"t worry. Above all, please don"t tell anybody where I am--not even d.i.c.k Gantry."
He was considerably relieved when she said "Good-by" rather abruptly, and rang off. None the less, he thought it a little strange that his father should be planning to leave the capital on the very eve of the great struggle. Was he so sure that nothing could happen within the next twenty-four hours? Leaving the query answerless, he returned to the interrupted duty. Deliberately, with the open telephone-book before him, he sought and found Judge Hemingway"s number; and a few seconds later he had the judge"s house in Mesa Circle, with the judge himself answering his call. The wire conversation was brief and to the point. Cautiously, and in well-guarded phrase, Blount stated his case. By a series of correlated incidents which could be explained later, doc.u.mentary evidence of a great conspiracy had fallen into his hands; would the judge step aside so far as to accord him a Sunday interview, taking his word for it that the emergency was most urgent, and that the time was too short to admit of the ordinary methods of procedure?
The judge"s answer was satisfactory, though Blount fancied it was rather reluctantly given. A family engagement--an accepted luncheon invitation--would intervene; but between four and five o"clock in the afternoon the chief justice would be in his chambers in the Capitol building, and would be glad to have the son of his old friend the senator come at that hour.
With time on his hands, Blount squared himself at his desk and began to set his railroad house in order. Now that the dreadful step was practically taken, he was free to wind up the business of his office, leaving things in order for his successor. Once he had thought that he could not stay in the capital or in the West after the cataclysm. But now the manlier thought prevailed. A hard fate was making him his father"s betrayer; but beyond the betrayal, with the bare duty done, he would take his place as his father"s son, proving his love and loyalty by going down with him to any depth of infamy into which the cataclysm might drag him.
Since there was much to be done in the winding-up task, the forenoon fled quickly, and the hands of the small paper-weight clock on the desk were pointing to a quarter of two when Blount snapped the rubber band upon the final file of referred papers. There were other odds and ends to be set in order, but he determined to let them wait until he had eaten. A scant half-hour in the club grill-room was all he allowed himself, and at a quarter past two he was back at his desk, preparing to make the cleaning-up task complete. Between four and five, Judge Hemingway had said; and Blount began on one of the odds and ends, which was the writing of his letter of resignation from the railroad service.
He was enclosing the letter when there came a light tap at the office-door, and then the door itself opened to admit Patricia--a Patricia bright-eyed and determined, alluringly charming in her tightly veiled driving-hat, m.u.f.fling motor-coat, and dainty gauntlets.
"You?" said Blount not too hospitably. "I thought you said something about going to Wartrace?"
"So I did, and so I am," she a.s.serted, coming to sit in the chair last occupied by one Thomas Gryson.
"And the others?" he queried.
"They have just left; gone on ahead in the touring-car. I was deputed to bring you."
"But I told you this morning that I couldn"t go, and I can"t!" he protested.
She looked him squarely in the eye. "Evan, you don"t dare tell me why you can"t!"
"Business," he pleaded.
"That may be half of the truth, but it isn"t any more than half." Then she made the direct appeal: "I wish you"d tell me, Evan. I know a little--just the little that Mrs. Blount has seen fit to tell me--and no more. There is trouble threatening; some dreadful trouble. I saw it yesterday when you were so miserable; I can see it in your eyes this minute."
Blount got up and began to pace the floor so that she might not see his eyes. He was no more proof against such an appeal than any lover gladly ready to bare his soul to the woman chosen out of a world of women for his confidant and second self would be.
"I want to tell you," he affirmed, wheeling abruptly to face her; "I wanted to tell you yesterday, only it was too horrible. You will know it all when I say that by this time to-morrow the whole State will be ringing with the story of David Blount"s degradation and ruin; and I--his only son, Patricia--I shall be the one who will have betrayed him and brought it to pa.s.s!"
She blanched a little at that, and there was a great horror in her eyes. But he noted at the moment, and remembered it afterward, that she did not push him into the harrowing details, as another woman might have done.
"You are very sure, I suppose?" she said gently.
He drew the packet of affidavits from his pocket.
"This is the evidence: sworn statements incriminating my father and many others."
"You had those papers yesterday?"
"No. I got up last night to keep my appointment with the man who brought them. But you see now why I can"t go to Wartrace with you."
"I see that you are going to do something for which you will never, never be able to forgive yourself," she said gravely. "You are going to make use of those papers?"
He sat down and stared gloomily at her. "Patricia, I have taken a solemn oath. The law which I have sworn to uphold is greater than--" He was going to say, "greater than any man"s claim for immunity," but she finished the sentence otherwise for him.
"Is greater than your love for your father. I suppose I ought to be able to understand that, but I am not. Evan, you can"t do it--you mustn"t do it; every drop of that father"s blood in your veins ought to cry out against it."