IV
SHACKWELL and the Governor sat over the evening embers. It was after
ten o'clock, and the servant had carried away the coffee and
liqueurs, leaving the two men to their cigars. Mornway had once more
lapsed into his arm-chair, and sat with out-stretched feet, gazing
comfortably at his friend.
Shackwell was a small dry man of fifty, with a face as sallow and
freckled as a winter pear, a limp mustache, and shrewd, melancholy
eyes.
"I am glad you have given yourself a day's rest," he said, looking
at the Governor.
"Well, I don't know that I needed it. There's such exhilaration in
victory that I never felt fresher."
"Ah, but the fight's just beginning."
"I know--but I'm ready for it. You mean the campaign against
Fleetwood. I understand there is to be a big row. Well, he and I are
used to rows."
Shackwell paused, surveying his cigar. "You knew the 'Spy' meant to
lead the attack?"
"Yes. I was offered a glimpse of the documents this afternoon."
Shackwell started up. "You didn't refuse?"
Mornway related the incident of Gregg's visit. "I could hardly buy
my information at that price," he said, "and, besides, it is really
Fleetwood's business this time. I suppose he has heard the report,
but it doesn't seem to bother him. I rather thought he would have
looked in to-day to talk things over, but I haven't seen him."
Shackwell continued to twist his cigar through his sallow fingers
without remembering to light it. "You're determined to reappoint
Fleetwood?" he asked at length.
The Governor caught him up. "You're the fourth person who has asked
me that to-day! You haven't lost faith in him, have you, Hadley?"
"Not an atom!" said the other with emphasis.
"Well, then, what are you all thinking of, to suppose I can be
frightened by a little newspaper talk? Besides, if Fleetwood is not
afraid, why should I be?"
"Because you'll be involved in it with him."
The Governor laughed. "What have they got against me now?"
Shackwell, standing up, confronted his friend solemnly. "This--that
Fleetwood bought his appointment two years ago."
"Ah--bought it of me? Why didn't it come out at the time?"
"Because it wasn't known then. It has only been found out lately."
"Known--found out? This is magnificent! What was my price, and what
did I do with the money?"
Shackwell glanced about the room, and his eyes returned to Mornway's
face.
"Look here, John, Fleetwood is not the only man in the world."
"The only man?"
"The only Attorney-General. "The 'Spy' has the Lead Trust behind it
and means to put up a savage fight. Mud sticks, and--"
"Hadley, is this a conspiracy? You're saying to me just what Ella
said this afternoon."
At the mention of Mrs. Mornway's name a silence fell between the two
men and the Governor moved uneasily in his chair.
"You are not advising me to chuck Fleetwood because the 'Spy' is
going to accuse me of having sold him his first appointment?" he
said at length.
Shackwell drew a deep breath. "You say yourself that Mrs. Mornway
gave you the same advice this afternoon."
"Well, what of that? Do you imagine that my wife distrib--" The
Governor broke off with an exasperated laugh.
Shackwell, leaning against the mantelpiece, looked down into the
embers. "I didn't say the 'Spy' meant to accuse _you_of having sold
the office."
Mornway stood up slowly, his eyes on his friend's averted face. The
ashes dropped from his cigar, scattering a white trail across the
carpet which had excited Mrs. Nimick's envy.
"The office is in my gift. If I didn't sell it, who did?" he
demanded.
Shackwell laid a hand on his arm. "For heaven's sake, John--"
"Who did, who did?" the Governor violently repeated.
The two men faced each other in the closely curtained silence of the
dim luxurious room. Shackwell's eyes again wandered, as if summoning
the walls to reply. Then he said, "I have positive information that
the 'Spy' will say nothing if you don't appoint Fleetwood."
"And what will it say if I do appoint him?"
"That he bought his first appointment from your wife."
The Governor stood silent, immovable, while the blood crept slowly
from his strong neck to his lowering brows. Once he laughed, then he
set his lips and continued to gaze into the fire. After a while he
looked at his cigar and shook the freshly formed cone of ashes
carefully upon the hearth. He had just turned again to Shackwell
when the door opened and the butler announced: "Mr. Fleetwood."
The room swam about Shackwell, and when he recovered himself,
Mornway, with outstretched hand, was advancing quietly to meet his
guest.
Fleetwood was a smaller man than the Governor. He was erect and
compact, with a face full of dry energy, which seemed to press
forward with the spring of his prominent features, as though it were
the weapon with which he cleared his way through the world. He was
in evening dress, scrupulously appointed, but pale and nervous. Of
the two men, it was Mornway who was the more composed.
"I thought I should have seen you before this," he said.
Fleetwood returned his grasp and shook hands with Shackwell.
"I knew you needed to be let alone. I didn't mean to come to-night,
but I wanted to say a word to you."
At this, Shackwell, who had fallen into the background, made a
motion of leave-taking, but the Governor arrested it.
"We haven't any secrets from Hadley, have we, Fleetwood?"
"Certainly not. I am glad to have him stay. I have simply come to
say that I have been thinking over my future arrangements, and that
I find it will not be possible for me to continue in office."
There was a long pause, during which Shackwell kept his eyes on
Mornway. The Governor had turned pale, but when he spoke his voice
was full and firm.
"This is sudden," he said.
Fleetwood stood leaning against a high chair-back, fretting its
carved ornaments with restless fingers. "It is sudden--yes. I--there
are a variety of reasons."
"Is one of them the fact that you are afraid of what the 'Spy' is
going to say?"
The Attorney-General flushed deeply and moved away a few steps. "I'm
sick of mud-throwing," he muttered.
"George Fleetwood!" Mornway exclaimed. He had advanced toward his
friend, and the two stood confronting each other, already oblivious
of Shackwell's presence.
"It's not only that, of course. I've been frightfully hard-worked.
My health has given way--"
"Since yesterday?"
Fleetwood forced a smile. "My dear fellow, what a slave-driver you
are! Hasn't a man the right to take a rest?"
"Not a soldier on the eve of battle. You have never failed me
before."
"I don't want to fail you now. But it isn't the eve of
battle--you're in, and that's the main thing."
"The main thing at present is that you promised to stay in with me,
and that I must have your real reason for breaking your word."
Fleetwood made a deprecatory movement. "My dear Governor, if you
only knew it, I'm doing you a service in backing out."
"A service--why?"
"Because I'm hated--because the Lead Trust wants my blood, and will
have yours too if you appoint me."
"Ah, that's the real reason, then--you're afraid of the 'Spy'?"
"Afraid--?"
The Governor continued to speak with dry deliberation. "Evidently,
then, you know what they mean to say."
Fleetwood laughed. "One needn't do that to be sure it will be
abominable!"
"Who cares how abominable it is if it isn't true?"
Fleetwood shrugged his shoulders and was silent. Shackwell, from a
distant seat, uttered a faint protesting sound, but no one heeded
him. The Governor stood squarely before Fleetwood, his hands in his
pockets. "It _is_true, then?" he demanded.
"What is true?"
"What the 'Spy' means to say--that you bought my wife's influence to
get your first appointment."
In the silence Shackwell started suddenly to his feet. A sound of
carriage-wheels had disturbed the quiet street. They paused and then
rolled up the semicircle to the door of the Executive Mansion.
"John!" Shackwell warned him.
The Governor turned impatiently; there was the sound of a servant's
steps in the hall, followed by the opening and closing of the outer
door.
"Your wife--Mrs. Mornway!" Shackwell cried.
Another step, accompanied by a soft rustle of skirts, was advancing
toward the library.
"My wife? Let her come!" said the Governor.
