The Conflict Part 30

"That's it, Mr. Hastings," cried Hull. "Even if I do exaggerate, as you seem to think, still where's the harm in doing it?"

"It looks as if the respectable people were afraid of the lower cla.s.ses," said Hastings doubtfully. "And that's always bad."

"But it won't look that way," replied Davy, "if my plan is followed."

"And what might be your plan?" inquired Hastings.

"I'm to be the reform candidate for Mayor. Your son-in-law, Hugo, is to be the reform candidate for judge. The way to handle this is for me to come out in a strong statement denouncing the indictments, and the injunction against the League and the New Day, too. And I'll announce that Hugo Galland is trying to join in the fight against them and that he is indignant and as determined as I am. Then early to-morrow morning we can go before Judge Lansing and can present arguments, and he will denounce the other side for misleading him as to the facts, and will quash the indictments and vacate the injunctions."

Hastings nodded reflectively. "Pretty good," said he with a sly grin.

"And Davy Hull and my son-in-law will be popular heroes."

Davy reddened. "Of course. I want to get all the advantage I can for our party," said he. "I don't represent myself. I represent the party."

Martin grinned more broadly. He who had been representing "honest taxpayers" and "innocent owners" of corrupt stock and bonds all his life understood perfectly. "It's hardly human to be as unselfish as you and I are, Davy," said he. "Well, I'll go in and do a little telephoning. You go ahead and draw up your statement and get it to the papers--and see Hugo." He rose, stood leaning on his cane, all bent and shrivelled and dry. "I reckon Judge Lansing'll be expecting you to-morrow morning." He turned to enter the house, halted, crooked his head round for a piercing look at young Hull. "Don't go talking round among your friends about what you're going to do," said he sharply.

"Don't let n.o.bODY know until it's done."

"Certainly, sir," said Davy.

"I could see you hurrying down to that there University Club to sit there and tell it all to those smarties that are always blowing about what they're going to do. You'll be right smart of a man some day, Davy, if you'll learn to keep your mouth shut."

Davy looked abashed. He did not know which of his many indiscretions of self-glorifying talkativeness Mr. Hastings had immediately in mind.

But he could recall several, any one of which was justification for the rather savage rebuke--the more humiliating that Jane was listening. He glanced covertly at her.

Perhaps she had not heard; she was gazing into the distance with a strange expression upon her beautiful face, an expression that fastened his attention, absorbed though he was in his project for his own ambitions. As her father disappeared, he said:

"What are you thinking about, Jane?"

Jane startled guiltily. "I? Oh--I don't know--a lot of things."

"Your look suggested that you were having a--a severe attack of conscience," said he, laughingly. He was in soaring good humor now, for he saw his way clear to election.

"I was," said Jane, suddenly stern. A pause, then she laughed--rather hollowly. "Davy, I guess I'm almost as big a fraud as you are. What fakirs we human beings are?--always posing as doing for others and always doing for our selfish selves."

Davy's face took on its finest expression. "Do you think it's altogether selfishness for me to fight for Victor Dorn and give him a chance to get out his paper again--when he has warned me that he is going to print things that may defeat me?"

"You know he'll not print them now," retorted Jane.

"Indeed I don't. He's not so forbearing."

"You know he'll not print them now," repeated Jane. "He'd not be so foolish. Every one would forget to ask whether what he said about you was true or false. They'd think only of how ungenerous and ungrateful he was. He wouldn't be either. But he'd seem to be--and that comes to the same thing." She glanced mockingly at Hull. "Isn't that your calculation?"

"You are too cynical for a woman, Jane," said Davy. "It's not attractive."

"To your vanity?" retorted Jane. "I should think not."

"Well--good-by," said Davy, taking his hat from the rail. "I've got a hard evening's work before me. No time for dinner."

"Another terrible sacrifice for public duty," mocked Jane.

"You must be frightfully out of humor with yourself, to be girding at me so savagely," said Davy.

"Good-by, Mr. Mayor."

"I shall be--in six weeks."

Jane's face grew sombre. "Yes--I suppose so," said she. "The people would rather have one of us than one of their own kind. They do look up to us, don't they? It's ridiculous of them, but they do. The idea of choosing you, when they might have Victor Dorn."

"He isn't running for Mayor," objected Hull. "The League's candidate is Harbinger, the builder."

"No, it's Victor Dorn," said Jane. "The best man in a party--the strongest man--is always the candidate for all the offices. I don't know much about politics, but I've learned that much.... It's Victor Dorn against--d.i.c.k Kelly--or Kelly and father."

Hull reddened. She had cut into quick. "You will see who is Mayor when I'm elected," said he with all his dignity.

Jane laughed in the disagreeably mocking way that was the climax of her ability to be nasty when she was thoroughly out of humor. "That's right, Davy. Deceive yourself. It's far more comfortable. So long!"

And she went into the house.

Davy's conduct of the affair was masterly. He showed those rare qualities of judgment and diplomacy that all but insure a man a distinguished career. His statement for the press was a model of dignity, of restrained indignation, of good common sense. The most difficult part of his task was getting Hugo Galland into condition for a creditable appearance in court. In so far as Hugo's meagre intellect, atrophied by education and by luxury, permitted him to be a lawyer at all, he was of that now common type called the corporation lawyer. That is, for him human beings had ceased to exist, and of course human rights, also; the world as viewed from the standpoint of law contained only corporations, only interests. Thus, a man like Victor Dorn was in his view the modern form of the devil--was a combination of knave and lunatic who had no right to live except in the restraint of an asylum or a jail.

Fortunately, while Hugo despised the "hoi polloi" as only a stupid, miseducated sn.o.b can despise, he appreciated that they had votes and so must be conciliated; and he yearned with the sn.o.b's famished yearning for the t.i.tle and dignity of judge. Davy found it impossible to convince him that the injunctions and indictments ought to be attacked until he had convinced him that in no other way could he become Judge Galland. As Hugo was fiercely prejudiced and densely stupid and reverent of the powers of his own intellect, to convince him was not easy. In fact, Davy did not begin to succeed until he began to suggest that whoever appeared before Judge Lansing the next morning in defense of free speech would be the Alliance and Democratic and Republican candidate for judge, and that if Hugo couldn't see his way clear to appearing he might as well give up for the present his political ambitions.

Hugo came round. Davy left him at one o'clock in the morning and went gloomily home. He had known what a prejudiced a.s.s Galland was, how unfit he was for the office of judge; but he had up to that time hidden the full truth from himself. Now, to hide it was impossible. Hugo had fully exposed himself in all his unfitness of the man of narrow upper cla.s.s prejudices, the man of no instinct or enthusiasm for right, justice and liberty. "Really, it's a crime to nominate such a chap as that," he muttered. "Yet we've got to do it. How Selma Gordon's eyes would shame me, if she could see me now!"

Davy had the familiar fondness for laying on the secret penitential scourge--wherewith we buy from our complacent consciences license to indulge in the sins our appet.i.tes or ambitions crave.

Judge Lansing--you have never seen a man who LOOKED the judge more ideally than did gray haired, gray bearded, open browed Robert Lansing--Judge Lansing was all ready for his part in the farce. He knew Hugo and helped him over the difficult places and cut him short as soon as he had made enough of his speech to give an inkling of what he was demanding. The Judge was persuaded to deliver himself of a high-minded and eloquent denunciation of those who had misled the court and the county prosecutor. He pointed out--in weighty judicial language--that Victor Dorn had by his conduct during several years invited just such a series of calamities as had beset him. But he went on to say that Dorn's reputation and fondness for speech and action bordering on the lawless did not withdraw from him the protection of the law. In spite of himself the law would protect him. The injunctions were dissolved and the indictments were quashed.

The news of the impending application, published in the morning papers, had crowded the court room. When the Judge finished a tremendous cheer went up. The cheer pa.s.sed on to the throng outside, and when Davy and Hugo appeared in the corridor they were borne upon the shoulders of workingmen and were not released until they had made speeches. Davy's manly simplicity and clearness covered the stammering vagueness of hero Galland.

As Davy was gradually clearing himself of the eager handshakers and back-slappers, Selma suddenly appeared before him. Her eyes were shining and her whole body seemed to be irradiating emotion of admiration and grat.i.tude. "Thank you--oh, thank you!" she said, pressing his hand. "How I have misjudged you!"

Davy did not wince. He had now quite forgotten the part selfish ambition had played in his gallant rush to the defense of imperilled freedom--had forgotten it as completely as the now ecstatic Hugo had forgotten his prejudices against the "low, smelly working people." He looked as exalted as he felt. "I only did my plain duty," replied he.

"How could any decent American have done less?"

"I haven't seen Victor since yesterday afternoon," pursued Selma. "But I know how grateful he'll be--not so much for what you did as that YOU did it."

The instinct of the crowd--the universal human instinct--against intruding upon a young man and young woman talking together soon cleared them of neighbors. An awkward silence fell. Said he hesitatingly:

"Are you ready to give your answer?--to that question I asked you the other day."

"I gave you my answer then," replied she, her glance seeking a way of escape.

"No," said he. "For you said then that you would not marry me. And I shall never take no for an answer until you have married some one else."

She looked up at him with eyes large and grave and puzzled. "I'm sure you don't want to marry me," she said. "I wonder why you keep asking me."