The Gray Dawn Part 34

But through Krafft, and especially through his desire to help Krafft's work, he came in contact with all sorts of people; and, what was more important, he found that he liked a great many of them. So it happened that when it seemed expedient to the ruling caste to put him in as a.s.sistant District Attorney, his inevitable election met with wider approval than such elections usually enjoy.

For it must be understood that in the fifties any candidate selected by the ruling caste was absolutely sure of election. The machinery was thoroughly in their hands. Diplomacy in party caucuses, delicate manipulation at primaries, were backed by cruder methods if need be.

a.s.sociations were semi-publically formed for the sale of votes; gangs of men were driven from one precinct to another, voting in all; intimidation, and, indeed, open violence, was freely used. Only the most adventurous or the most determined thought it worth while even to try to vote in the rough precincts. And if the first and second lines of defence failed, there was still the third to fall back on when the booths were dosed and the ballots counted: the boxes could still be "stuffed," the count could still be scientifically juggled to bring about any desired result.

This particular election was one of the worst in the history of the place. All day fighting was kept up, and the rowdies swaggered everywhere. Whiskey was to be had for the asking; and the roughs who surrounded the polls fired shots, and in some places started what might fairly be called riots. Yankee Sullivan returned James Casey as elected supervisor, which was probably a mistake, for Casey was not a candidate, his name was on none of the official ballots, and n.o.body could be found who had voted for him. Everybody was surprised, Casey most of all! The sixth ward count was delayed unconscionably, its returns being withheld until nearly morning. It was more than hinted that this delay was prolonged until the returns had been received from all other precincts, so that any deficiencies might be made up by the sixth. The "slate" went through unbroken.

Of all the candidates, Keith received the most votes, for the simple reason that his total included both the honest and dishonest ballots.

Blanchford, Neil, Palmer, Adams, all the political overlords of the city were satisfied, as well they might be, for they had issued the fiat that he be chosen.

"He's one of us," said they.

But what was more unusual, the rank and file of decent, busy, hard-working citizens approved, too.

"Keith is not stuck up," they told each other. "He is the _commonest_ man in that bunch. And he's square."

The position carried some social as well as political significance.

Society made another effort to take him up. His rare appearances were rather in the nature of concessions. They served to make him more regretted, for he had an easy, jolly way of moving from one group or one woman to another, of paying flattering, monopolizing, brief attention to each in turn, and then disappearing, very early! His bold rather florid countenance radiated energy and quizzical good humour; his tight, closely curled hair crisped with virile alertness; he carried himself taut and eager--altogether a figure to engage the curiosities of women or the interest of men.

Mrs. Sherwood alone was shrewd enough to penetrate to his true feelings. She had experienced no difficulty in pushing to a social leadership shared--indolently and indifferently--with Nan Keith.

Already her past was growing dim in a tradition kept alive only by a few whisperers. Her wealth, her natural tact and poise, her calm a.s.sumption of the right to rule, her great personal charm, beauty, and taste were more than sufficient to get her what she wanted. The game was almost too easy, when one held the cards.

"Yes, he's very charming," she told her husband, "but that manner of his does not impress me. As a matter of fact, he doesn't care a snap of his finger about any of them. He does it too well. It's a stencil. Only the outside of him does it. He's just as bad as you are; only _he_ doesn't hold up a corner of the doorway all the evening, and beam vaguely in general, like a good-natured, dear old owl."

x.x.xV

A few clear-headed men--not the "chivalry," as the fire-eating professional politicians and lawyers from the South were almost uniformly designated--were able to see exactly the problem that must eventually demand Keith's solution. Some of them talked it over while lounging and smoking in the Fire Queen reading-room. There were present Talbot Ward and his huge satellite, Munro; Coleman, quiet, grim, complacent, but looking, with his sweeping, inky moustache and his florid, complexion, like a flashy "sport"; Hossfros, soon to become an historic character; and the banker, James King of William.

The latter had recently come in for considerable public discussion. He had for some time conducted a banking business, but becoming involved in difficulties, he had turned over all his a.s.sets, all his personal fortune, even his dwelling-house, to another bank as trustee to take care of his debts. Almost immediately after, that bank had failed.

Opinion in the community divided according to the interests involved.

The majority considered that King had been almost quixotically conscientious in stripping himself; but there did not lack those who accused him of sharp practice. In the course of ensuing discussions and recriminations King was challenged to a duel. He declined to fight, basing his refusal on principle. As may be imagined, such an action at such a time was even more widely commented upon than even his refusal to take advantage of the bankruptcy laws. It was, as far as known, the first time any one had had the moral courage to refuse a duel. King had gone quietly about his business, taking an ordinary clerkship with Palmer, Cook & Co. In the eyes of the discriminating few he had gained prestige, but most people thought him down and out.

"What do you think of our new a.s.sistant District Attorney?" Ward had begun the conversation.

"He's a lawyer," growled Hossfros.

"A pretty fairly honest one, I think," ventured King. "His training may be wrong, but his instincts are right."

"Fat chance anything's got when it mixes up with legalities,"

supplemented Frank Munro.

"Nevertheless," remarked Coleman seriously, "I believe plain justice has more of a chance with him in charge than with another."

"What sort of justice?" queried King. "Commercial?" He laughed in answer to his own question. "Criminal? I'd like to think it, gentlemen, but I cannot. You know as well as I do that any of us could this evening go into the streets, select our victim, and shoot him down secure in the knowledge that inconvenience is all the punishment we need expect--if we have money or friends. Am I not right, Coleman?"

Coleman smiled sardonically, lifting his blue-black moustache.

"Were Herod for the slaughter of the Innocents brought before a jury of this town, he would be acquitted," he said half-seriously. "Judas Iscariot would pa.s.s unscathed so long as any portion of his thirty pieces of silver remained with him."

They laughed at this remarkable p.r.o.nouncement, but with an undernote of seriousness.

"No man, even exceptionally equipped as this young man seems to be,"

went on Coleman after a moment, "can accomplish _that_"--he snapped his fingers--"against organized forces such as those of 'Law and Order.'"

"We can't stand this sort of thing forever!" cried Hossfros hotly.

"It's getting worse and worse!"

"We probably shall not stand it forever," agreed Coleman equably, "but we are powerless--at present."

They looked toward him for explanation of this last.

"When the people at large find that _they_ cannot stand it either, then we shall be no longer powerless. A single man can do something then--a single child!"

"What will happen then?" asked Munro. "Vigilantes? '51 again?"

Coleman, the leader of the Vigilantes of '51, turned on him a grave eye.

"G.o.d forbid! We were then a frontier community. We are now an organized, civilized city. We have rights and powers through the regular channels--at the ballot box for example."

Hossfros laughed skeptically.

"It must wait," continued Coleman; "it must wait on public opinion."

"Well," spoke up King, "it's all very well to wait, but public opinion left to itself is a mighty slow growth. It should be fostered. The newspapers--"

"Don't let's lose our sense of humour," cut in Talbot Ward. "Can you see Charley Nugent or Mike Rowlee crusading for the right?"

"But my point is good," insisted King. "An honest, fearless editor, not afraid to call a spade a spade--"

"Would be shot," said Coleman briefly.

"The chances of war," replied King.

"They don't grow that kind around here," grinned Ward.

"Well," concluded Coleman, "this young Keith probably won't help any, but he's going to be interesting to watch, just the same, to see what he'll do the first time they crack the whip over him. That's the vital point as far as he is concerned."

x.x.xVI

Keith's activities did not immediately confront him with anything in the nature of a test, however. His superiors confined him to the drawing of briefs and the carrying through of carefully selected cases.

It was considered well to "work him in" a little before putting responsibility on him.