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Full text of "A member of the third house; a dramatic story"

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"Gu'p we a liundred tlmisand dollars, and Fll capture atmy legis- 
lature in this fjreat and rjlohrious " 

THE ARIEL LIBRARY. Xo. L5. Aikil, 1892. Lssuei, Moxthlv. Per Tear, ^5.00. '''I 

., CNTtBCO *T CHICAGO POSTO^FICE AS SECONO-eLASS MA-TCH. ' 3 

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FOR 1892. 



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A MEMBER OF THE THIRD HOUS 



n 



A DRAMATIC STORY 



By 



HAMLIN GARLAND 



Author of "Main Traveled Roads," "A Spoil of Office," etc. 




CHICAGO : 

F. J. SCHULTE & COMPANY, Publishers, 
298 Dearborn Street, 



CoPYRicm, 1S92, 
By HAMLIN GARLAND. 

All rights reserved. 



CONTENTS. 



Chapter. Page. 

I. The Scholar in Politics 7 

II. Tom Brennan's Ambition 21 

in. Can the Senate be Bought ? ^^ 

IV. " The Gutter-snipe Must Rise " 48 

V. The Third House in Session 66 

VI. A Game of Tennis 75 

VII. Senator Ward at Home 102 

VIII. The Sunday Papers.....; no 

IX. An Evening Cali 119 

X. " I Will Testify" 132 

XI. Before the Joint Committee 139 

XII. Senator Ward's Appeai 143 

XIII. The Rout of the Rats 183 

XIV. The Iron Duke Reckons with Himself 199 

XV. Brennan Sacrifices his Mustache 216 



A MEMBER OF THE THIRD HOUSE. 



Chapter I. 

THE SCHOLAR IN POLITICS. 

IT was a phenomenally hot day in June. The 
city pulsed with a suffocating- heat like a kiln 
for steaming- wood. The air was filled with 
moisture, and seemed momentarily on the point 
of precipitating- rain, while the sun burned 
down from the cobalt-blue sky with terrific 
splendor. Heavy clouds drove in like great 
ships from the sea and fell in brief, heavy 
down-dropping showers, exactly as if a valve 
had been opened and shut. Then the sun burst 
out again, and from the hissing pavements a 
gray, suffocating steam arose in the faces of the 
hastening throngs of men. 

These moments were terrifying, and in every 
doorway portly men could be seen standing 
with bared heads, panting with sudden weak- 
ness and vertigo, their faces vermilion with the 
rush of blood. The hack horses and dray 
teams labored to and fro, steaming with sweat 



8 "ji ilTcmbcr of tl)e ^\)\v\i €)ou0c. 

and breathing convulsively, their tremulous, 
eager nostrils like full-blown red trumpet-flow- 
ers. Their eyelids fell wearily and sleepily 
over their dim eyes, and they responded to the 
whip only by a weak thrusting of the neck or an 
impotent whisk of the tail. 

A young man walking slowly along the street 
stopped to watch such a panting, struggling 
team. His fine, serious face clouded with sym- 
pathetic pain as the teams struggled past him. 
He had the look of a student. His brown 
beard was full and cut in an oval shape, and his 
rather prominent brown eyes were partly 
hidden by his spectacles, the bows of which 
went behind his ears. 

A short man with a fat face came by, keeping 
close in the shadow, carrying his hat in his 
hand. "Hello, Tuttle, " he called, '"hot, ain't 
it? By jinks, my shirt sticks to me like the 
bark to a tree. Phew ! What you looking at ? " 

" That team. It's terrible to see 'em labor so 
on a day like this." 

"Aha! Moral, — Vote for the Consolidated 
and give the horses a rest. See?" 

Tuttle looked at him gravely. " Holbrook, 
you're a confirmed lobbyist. So you have gone 
into the pay of the Consolidated ? You talked 
just that way last year in favor of the" 



!7l ilTnnbfr of tl)c ®l)irb Cjoiisc. o 

Holbrook grinned. "Yes, sir. According 
to my lights. According to my lights. I see 
things different now. Say, your investigating 
order is going to raise the devil with you if you 
put it through." He laid his moist handker- 
chief over his bald head for a moment as one 
uses a blotting-pad. 

" It may raise the devil with somebody else," 
said Tuttle, quietly. 

"No, I guess not. Well, let 'er go, Smith! 
Nothin' like havin' fun these hot days." He 
winked and grinned and waddled gayly off to 
enter a horse-car moving toward the Capitol. 

Tuttle gave a sigh of relief when the horses 
on the car reached a level and turned a corner. 
This sympathy for the suffering animals marked 
him as a man of rather keen sensibility. As he 
walked on the sun came out brilliantly again, 
the mists quickly disappeared, and life was a 
little more tolerable. 

Two young ladies came out of a store just 
ahead. "Oh, there's Mr. Tuttle," cried one. 
She floated down upon him like a spray of cool 
salt foam. "Oh, Mr. Tuttle, isn't it warm?" 

"Well, yes, I'd been thinking so until — until 
I saw you. You look as cool as a sherbet. I 
don't see how you ladies manage to keep so 
cool." 



1(1 Q[ illembcr of tl)c ^Ijivli ^omc. 

"Our looks deceive, I can assure you/' said 
the taller and plainer girl of the two. 

"Ah, Miss Ward," he greeted her; "I didn't 
find you at home when I called the other even- 
ing. " 

"No, father wasn't very well, and " 

"Oh, we've just been having an ice-cream 
soda. We stop every block or two — I've eaten 
three. Won't you come in and let me treat ?" 
cried Miss Davis. "Oh, come. It'll be such 
fun." 

"Well, I can stand one if you can a fourth." 
Tuttle smiled, as he followed them into a long 
and excessively clean confectionery store, where 
they took seats on slender revolving wooden 
stools in a long row before a polished marble 
counter. 

Miss Davis chattered on like a jovial little 
blue-jay. She was pretty in a dainty, inconse- 
quential sort of way, and was dressed in some 
light-colored, fluffy stuff that rustled as softly as 
a breeze in a poplar tree, and she looked deli- 
ciously comfortable. The little beads of perspi- 
ration on her white temples and chin seemed 
cool as the drops on a dainty vase. 

"Ain't this heavenly.'*" she inquired, as she 
stirred the brown mixture with the long- 
handled, tiny spoon which went with the soda. 



Qi illcmbcr of tl)c ®l)irb j^ouee. 1 1 

" Don't you like to hear the spoon as it goes 
through? Grau-u!" She made a funny little 
noise to imitate the sound of the spoon. 
"This makes the fourth. Ain't you going to 
try one, Evelyn ? I believe I could live on ice- 
cream sodas and macaroons ! Couldn't you ? 

"For a limited time — yes," Tuttle replied, 
looking into the sunny shallows of her blue 
eyes. " However, I prefer to go on in a 
grosser way for the present — steaks and things 
like that." 

" What do you legislators do on such days 
as this ? " inquired Helene. 

"Adjourn, mainly," said Evelyn. 

"That's what we should do, but we don't, 
and can't. Here it is June, and the business 
fairly mountainous before us." 

"The sessions seem to be getting longer 
and longer, father says. Why is it.-*" asked 
Evelyn. 

"The Third House. Things have reached 
such a state that a bill must pass the Third 
House before it can get fairly before the sup- 
posed law-makers, and even then" 

" What is the Third House? " asked Helene, 
looking up from her soda. " I see so many 
jokes in the newspapers about it."" 

"Yes, it is a joke — there. I should define 



13 ^ illembcr of tl)c (Zll)irb ^ouse. 

it" — he hesitated as if to be exact — "as a 
body of corrupt men who stand between the 
people and legislation." Helene, who had been 
eating her cream soda, had not heard a word. 
She was thinking what beautiful eyes he had, 
and what a really elegant Prince-of- Wales cut 
he had on his brown beard. 

Evelyn said in her quiet way: 

" Father says the Third House is a very dan- 
gerous element." 

"Oh, I wish you'd take me to see it!" 
Helene cried out. 

"Helene evidently thinks it a menagerie," 
said Evelyn. 

'' I guess I won't take you to see the Third 
House." 

"Why not ? " she asked with wide eyes. 

" Because it ain't a fit place for women to go." 

"Why, that's the reason I want to go." 

" Why, Helene Davis ! " 

"I do — I like exciting things." 

" Oh, Mr. Tuttle, you must come over and 
play tennis with us. I'm just all doubled up on 
tennis this year. I'm going to be a champion." 
Evelyn and Tuttle smiled at the slang. " Last 
year I didn't care very much about it, but that 
was because I was a beginner. And then I've 



'2. iHt'mbcr of i\)t ^Ijirli ftousc. 13 

g-ot the loveliest suit, the very latest, and my 
racquet is a regular dandy ! " 

" Helene, your sodas have gone to your head." 

Tuttle smiled indulgently. Helene was too 
beautiful to reprimand. "I'll come if I can, but 
I expect to be very busy. I'm going to attack 
our national disgrace — this Third House you 
hear so much about — and the newspapers are 
likely to 'roast' me." 

" Now who's talking slang ? " 

Tuttle laughed and rose. "Well, I must be 
going. I — I'm very sorry." 

"Come over to-night, won't you.'*" 

"I can't to-night, but — but I will to-morrow 
— the Third House permitting." 

"I'll look for you, sure," smiled Helene, and 
audaciously waved a little kiss at him — after he 
had turned away. 

Tuttle walked slowly up the street, in thought 
too deep to notice the heat. He felt indefinably 
a crisis approaching in his life, like the thunder- 
storm which the unusual smothering heat pre- 
dicted in the weather. He smiled at first as his 
mind went back to the dainty girl stirring the 
soda. Then he grew grave again, as he studied 
his position before the public, and especially 
before Lawrence B. Davis, the great railway 
president, the father of Helene. 



14 ^ iUcmbcr of tl)c (l\)\v\i fjousc, 

" Hold on there, Tuttle ! " cried a voice, as a 
hand touched his elbow. 

"Hel-lo, Radbourn !" he said, his face light- 
ing into a beautiful smile. " By George, I'm 
glad to see you ! Where'd you spring from ? " 

" Spring from ? Didn't you hear me rap on 
the hotel window as you passed ? " 

"No, you see I was busy" 

" I should say so — going along in a perfectly 
black study. Well, you see I'm on my way to 
the West. Stopping over a day, and was just 
going out to look you up. But come in and sit 
down and tell me all about things." 

They returned to Milliard's and went up to 
Radbourn's room, which was high enough to 
get all the breeze, he explained. "Yes, I'm 
out on another one of my lecturing trips. 
How's everything with you .'* " 

"Well, I've done it, Radbourn," Tuttle said, 
abruptly, as he dropped into a chair. 

A faint smile lighted Radbourn's grave face. 
"You say that as if you expected me to know 
what you've done. So I infer that it has some- 
thing to do with the land question." Tuttle's 
deprecatory air amused him. "Am I right?" 

"Yes, I've put in my bill to charge an annual 
rent for street franchises," 



^ iUcmbcr of tl)c Sljiri) €^onst. 15 

"Good!" Radbourn said, rising and throw- 
ing off his coat. 

"And I've carried a resolution to have the 
methods of the Consolidated Railway investi- 
gated. A joint committee has been appointed 
for the purpose. And the press and the 
monopoly are going to lift my hair." 

"Good! We need a martyr. Am I to 
understand that all this — great — spreading 
tree has sprung — from that little mustard- 
seed talk we had last winter ? " 

Tuttle nodded. " Oh, I'm an apt pupil ! " 

"Well, I should say so. Your hand!" As 
they gripped hands, Tuttle said, with a com- 
ical look in his spectacled eyes : 

"That spectral cat you fellows are always 
talking about practically made my bedpost its 
promenade for months, and has got me at last 
just where my enemies want me. I am prac- 
tically fighting the Third House and the monopo- 
lists of all the houses alone." 

"Well, tell me all about it. I've only just a 
hint of it from the newspapers ! " He stretched 
himself on the lounge. " Excuse me, won't 
you ? I was riding all night. Take off your 
coat if you feel too warm." 

Tuttle had a curious air of being in the pres- 
ence of a teacher as well as a friend. There was 



16 ^ iHembcr of t\)t Qllfw'b ^ousc. 

a look of timidity in his eyes. " I don't need to 
explain the Third House, "he began. 

"No, it's a condition in every capital. 
Wherever there is public property to be voted 
into private pockets, in fact " 

"Well, we've got a monopoly in this State 
and city that has become a terrible power, 
partly with the consent of the people, partly 
against it. The Consolidated owns the Air- 
line road over which you came to-day, and the 
street railways in half a dozen of our cities. It 
has swallowed half the lines of road in this 
city, and is trying to secure a charter which will 
practically put every street into its hands." 

" Oh, it's the universal movement !" sighed 
Radbourn. "But it can't last always." 

"They came before the legislature last year, 
opposing the charter for a road of the very 
character which they now ask for themselves. 
It is claimed that they've put a hundred thou- 
sand dollars into the Third House, till there is 
no opposition. The papers, just now, are full 
of stories of their attack on the senate. 
Members of the lower house have told me 
that, at the Hilliard bar, twenty thousand dol- 
lars have been deposited by an agent of the 
Consolidated to pay bets with ! " 



3. illcmbcr of tljc ^Ijirli €)o\xsc. i? 

"How's that?" Radbourn sat up. "Why, 
that's a new idea ! " 

"The member of the Third House is able to 
sHp up to the bar with a senator, and say : 
' Sam, I've just lost a bet of two thousand 
dollars to this g^entleman.' " 

" I see," said Radbourn. " He bets a bill 
won't pass." 

" Yes. The road is said to have three 
centers of action — the Hilliard, the office of 
the attorney. Fox, and a den on some side 
street, a frig-htful place, reeking with liquor and 
all foulness. Men are trapped and debauched 
into service in that hole. At the other places 
they are bought genteelly." 

" Well, who's at the head of all this ? It's 
easy to infer a head." 

" Its head is a powerful old man, who has a 
national reputation — the famous ' Iron Duke.' 
You've heard of him in connection with 
the Cedar Knob Mines and the Bitter River 
Railway deal — Lawrence B. Davis. I don't 
know how deep he is in this saturnalia of 
bribery that is reported to be going on. I 
wish I did," he ended, with a changed manner. 
A look of sadness came over his face, and his 
eyes fell In thought. 

"Now what d'ye mean by that?" asked Rad- 



18 ^2, illcmbcr of tl)c (El)iri^ fjousf. 

bourn, rousing up on his elbows again to stare 
at him. 

"Oh, nothing — that is, it's a purely private 
affair. Yes, I'll tell you about it," he went on, 
with an impulsive gesture. "The Iron Duke 
has — has a daughter." 

A sympathetic shadow came into Radbourn's 
eyes. 

"Ah! I see. Old story! Struggle of love 
and duty ! The poor youth, the rich maiden, 
e^ cetera. " 

"Yes, it does seem sort of theatrical to 
everybody but myself. But it's tremendously 
real life to me. I can't think her father is a full 
party to the corruption. It is done, I think, 
mainly by two of the trustees of the road, 
through a notorious lobbyist, Tom Brennan, 
and an attorney by the name of Fox." 

"Well, brother Tuttle, that sounds a little — 
diaphanous, I'm afraid. A man of the character 
of Davis is not made use of in that way. But 
who is this man Brennan ?" 

"He's the cleverest Irishman I ever saw. 
He's a genius in many ways, a man with infinite 
resources, but a — a — a conscienceless cormo- 
rant." 

"That's drawing it — rather strong, Tuttle." 

" Well, he isn't a bit theatrical, if I am. He's 



^l illcmbcr of tl)c (Jl)irir Cjousc. 19 

a real villain, and not a stage caricature. One 
of these laughing, handsome, successful, ingra- 
tiating, soulless " 

" Hold on ! You are piling it up. He isn't a 
— he isn't a rival?" suggested Radbourn. 
Tuttle grew red and dropped his eyes. "Now, 
Tuttle, I don't want to drag the secret out 
of you, but if you want my honest advice, as 
I infer you do, give me the straight facts. " 

" Well, he's the Iron Duke's secretary and 
confidential agent, and he wants Helene, of 
course." 

Radbourn was amused. " I understand the 
force of that ' of course,' but how about Helene ? " 

" I don't know. I suppose she likes him. He 
seems to have a singular fascination for the 
average woman, and lately she — she don't 
seem " He did not finish. It wasn't neces- 
sary. Radbourn was in possession of the main 
facts. 

There was a little pause, and then Radbourn 
summed it up. ''I think I see the whole situa- 
tion. You have set on foot an investigation 
that is sure — no 'maybe' about it — to turn 
the Duke and Helene against you, while the 
real-life villain triumphantly bears away the 
spoils, as he generally does in life, to be honest 
about it. " 



20 % iUembfr of tijc ^Ijirb Cjousc. 

There was a pause. The roar of the street 
came through the open window, softened, puls- 
ine in the freshening- breeze. Tuttle saw on his 
friend's face, which faintly resembled Napoleon's, 
a look that was both savag-e and lofty. " Now 
do you ask what my advice is ? " 

'T don't need to," Tuttle said in a low voice. 
" I see it all myself." 

" Of course, there is just one thing to say — 
justice ! The time has come when a stand must 
be made all along the line for justice." 

" And freedom," added Tuttle. 

" That's the whole of it," said Radbourn, with 
his infrequent smile. And I tell you the final 
outcome will be good. You know what Whit- 
man says : ' Whatever is, is well. Whither I 
walk I cannot divine, but I know it is well.' 
Stand for the right thing, the conscientious 
thing, Wilson, and you will lose nothing in the 
end — that is my faith. Come, let's go down to 
dinner and talk it over." 



Chapter II. ' 

TOM BRENNAN's ambition. 

^^/^H, he has a jag"! " commented the elevator 

^^ boy, as he looked through the barred door 
of the descending car at the Honorables Tim 
Sheehan and Pat Murnahan, of the Eighth and 
Ninth Wards, respectively. 

"This is the door," said Tim, as Murnahan 
shook his fist at the grinning boy disappearing 
down the shaft. They stood before a ground glass 
door on which was painted : Samuel D. Fox, 
Thomas Bre^uian, Attor7ieys-at-Laiv. "Shall I 
knock ?" 

"Naw! Gaw right in!" 

Murnahan took off his pearl-gray plug hat, 
and, holding it in his hand, opened the door and 
walked in with elaborate but uncertain dignity. 
A young man with a grave, pale face that nothing 
(apparently) could cause to light into a smile or 
flush into color, rose from his desk in the outer 
office. 

"Is Tom Brennan in ? " asked Sheehan. 

The young man approached very close and 



22 3. illcmber of tl)£ Sl)irb Cjousc. 

spoke in that peculiar placid tone a deaf person 
uses : 

"What did you say?" 

Murnahan repeated his question. 

" Right this way," said the orrave young man, 
as he knocked on the door of the inner office. 
"A couple of gents to see Mr. Brennan." 

A smiling, handsome man of about thirty ap- 
peared. He was dressed in a neat, youthful 
suit of cassimere. He was slightly bald, and 
had a fine mustache and smiling lips. 

"Ah, my dear boys ! Come in. What can I 
do for you?" He pushed them through the 
door, saying, "Be with you in a jiffy." He 
crossed the room, and said in a low voice to the 
young man, "Don't let anybody in, Robert." 
The young man nodded and took his seat at his 
desk beside his telephone and type-writing and 
telegraph machines, which made him resemble 
the man in the orchestra who plays several 
instruments. 

Brennan pointed his thumb at the inner office 
and grinned broadly. " Their nibses tarried too 
lonof at the wine last niufht." Then he returned 
to his private office, which was, in fact, the private 
office of the Iron Duke. 

"Well, gentlemen, how did you enjoy our 
little dinner last night ? Eh ?" 



Q[ iltnubcr of tl)c (^l)irb tjousc. 23 

"First-rate, Tom," was their verdict. 

" Your roses are a little passe," he said, indi- 
cating the flower each wore in the lapel of his 
gray Prince Albert frock. " Let me give you a 
fresh one. Just happen to have one. An' now 
what can I do for you ? But wait — haven't had 
anything this p. m.?" 

" I ain't. Tim, he's all balled up." 

" Oh, ye blackguard ! And him been loadin' 
up since breakfast ! " roared Sheehan. 

Brennan joined in the fun. As Murnahan kept 
his seat Tom didn't really perceive how intoxi- 
cated he was, and took from a snug little closet 
in the wall a couple of bottles of wine and some 
glasses. 

" Well, Tom, we came down to thank you for 
your supper. It was gra-et ! " 

" That's all right now. Take a suup, just." 

" We missed our thrains, the divil take ye ! 
and had to stay at the Hoffman all night, an' 
this mornin' ' What's to pay ? ' sez I. ' Nuthin', ' 
sez he. * The divil,' sez I. ' It's all settled,' 
sez he. An' so we came up to say it's damned 
clever of ye when a poor feller visits his friends 
and forgets the thrain." 

"Say!" said Brennan, suddenly, "this ain't 
biz. I want 'o hedge to-day. I'll bet you five 
hundred dollars apiece we lose our charter." 



34 ^ iHcmbcr of tl)c iii\]iv\f Ciousc. 

He lay back in his chair, put his thumbs 
behind his vest, and rocked to and fro, care- 
lessly. 

" O, ye're jokin' now, Tom." 

"Am I?" he snid, with the Irish inflection. 
" Here's a hundred dollars that says not," 

Sheehan looked at the neat packet of bills. 
" I'll take yeh." They shook hands. 

" Where'll it be paid ? " 

" Hilliard's." 

" I oruess I'll come in on that," said Pat. 

"All right, my boy, I'll be glad to see you 
win. Here's y'r squids." He paid them each 
fifty dollars and showed by his manner that 
the interview was over. " Well, now, boys, I'm 
busy; you'll excuse my kicking you out." 

They rose with effort. "All right, but mind 
ye now this don't bind us. " 

" Certainly not, me lads. All we want is to 
have ye understand the bill, see." He seemed 
to use this in something more than a jocular 
sense, as if he still retained the wish to give a 
tinge of honesty to a barefaced bribery. 

" Av coorse," said Murnahan, with a drunken 
leer, trying with his stiffening fingers to button 
his coat. " Sez I, Tim, ye're wild, sez I. Tom 
is as straight a lad as ever lived, sez I. All 
that he wants is to o^i^'e us a chance to hear the 



^ illcmbcr of tl)c (illjiri) tjousc. ;j.-, 

bill discussed on its merits, sez I, and he ain't 
a-goin to lave us to pay bills when we lose our 
thrains, sez I." 

'' Well now. gentlemen," said Brennan, cutting 
short Murnahan's loquacity, " I'm very busy, 
but come again. I'm always glad to see two 
sons from the old sod." 

"But wait. Just one more sup," he said, 
going back to the stand and getting a bottle. 
" We'll dispinse with the glasses, eh ?" 

" Av coorse ! " 

" Shure, we prefair the bottle." 

They drank by turns and wiped their lips in a 
common sort of way, laughing loudly. Bren- 
nan ended it at last by hustling them out good- 
naturedly. "W^ell, now, good -by. Robert, 
show 'em the elevator. Come down and see us 
again. But don't carry away the taste o' the 
whisky," he called after them. " The byes '11 be 
down on me like a hod of brick on a Dutch- 
man." 

He returned to the office, replaced the bottles 
in the closet, singing as he did so in a perfectly 
youthful and lover-like fashion. He seemed all 
love and poesy. 

Helene looked in at the door unobserved, say- 
ing, with a smile, " Did I hear you singing, Mr. 
Brennan ?" 



•><; 2. iUcmbcr of tl)c ^Ij'iri) t)ousr. 

Brennan calmly but quickly closed the closet 
door. " You did, no doubt. Come in and I'll 
stop." 

"How very kind of you? Where's papa?" 

"Gone down to the superintendent's office. 
Expect him back every moment. Won't you sit 
down ? " 

" Who were those horrible, white-hatted men 
who just went out ? " 

'"Legislators,'' said Brennan, with comic 
brevity. 
■ " Those men ?" 

"Those men. Of such is the legislatures 
of our nation and the kingdoms of our city 
councils." 

"Why, they looked like" — Helene wrinkled 
her brow in the effort to reach a synonym — 
"like prize-fighters." 

"They're all that — they're daisies." 

"What do they come here for? I'm glad 
they're gone," she said. 

" So am I, but sit down. I want to see you." 

Helene went to the door and called: "Evelyn! 
Come in, dear. We've got to wait. Papa isn't 
here." 

Brennan greeted Miss Ward with his native, 
smiling ease, and the two girls took seats oppo- 
site him. There was something very engaging 



^ ilUmbcr of tl)c (ill)irb Cjoubc. •>: 

about his frank face and pleasant brown eyes, 
and both girls seemed to like him very much. 
Helene, sitting in the big chair, fanned herself 
with a demoralized palm-leaf fan which she 
found on the table. 

" How warm it is here in this office ! And 
the streets are just like an oven. We met Mr. 
Tuttle — oh, did you know he had bought that 
old-fashioned cottage right opposite ours ? " 

" No, has he ? " 

Brennan looked more surprised than pleased. 

" Yes, he's going to spend his summer there. 
Ain't that nice ? " 

"Oh, very — for him! I suppose he didn't 
know you lived opposite ? " 

Helene looked at him in a puzzled way, and 
Evelyn said quietly, " Sarcasms are always lost 
on Helene." 

"I don't understand what you're saying," said 
Helene, going on with her plans. "We want 
you to come over and make up a set to play 
lawn-tennis to-night. Can't you do it?" 

" I'll try to. But you see I'm awfully busy 
in the office just now, and, the Third House being 
in session, there's no getting away." 

"Poor fellows! Wilson says the same thing. 
But I suppose laws have to be made. You 
work together, don't you ?" 



•28 ^ illembcr of tljc (lljirb ^OU0C. 

Brennan twisted his lips in an amusing way. 
''Well, not exactly. Well — yes," he went 
on, as if it were the shortest way out of it. 
" We both help to make the laws. Three 
houses with a single thought, you know." 

"Now you're laughing at me — I won't have 
it!" 

"But Mr. Tuttle said the other day that the 
Third House was a national disgrace," put in 
Evelyn, quietly. 

"What did he mean by that?" inquired 
Helene, who really didn't know how many 
houses there were. 

" Mr. Tuttle evidently doesn't consider the 
Third House a joking matter," Evelyn contin- 
ued. She was studying Brennan closely. 

" Oh, he was guying you ! That's just one 
of our little jokes. You see we poke away at 
each other like a couple of lawyers in the court- 
room, and then laugh over it all in some other 
room ! The Third House returns the compli- 
ment by calling the second house a band of bar- 
room loafers," he ended, laughing at the mysti- 
fied expression on Helene's face, who turned 
toward Evelyn. 

"Oh, ain't these men funny? They can call 
each other such names, and laugh and be good 



:2l illrmbcr of tl)t ^Ijirb gousc. ^9 

friends just the same. Why is it women can't 
do that? " 

" Because it ain't business with a woman ; it's 
only form. A group of men can't all talk at 
once and interrupt each other and leave sen- 
tences unfinished, because it wouldn't be busi- 
ness, see ! " 

" Yes, I see. There's something in that 
phrase we women don't understand," Evelyn 
said. " Something magical." 

" Sometimes it's anything but pleasant. Now 
I'd a good deal rather be down at the beach 
playing tennis than sweltering around the Capitol 
building." 

"I thought you liked business?" put in 
Helene. 

" I do, but I can't say I /lone after some kinds." 
Under the influence of these clean, unsmirched 
women souls, Brennan really felt a touch of 
Aveariness with his unscrupulous work. *'The 
trouble is a man can't always say what he will 
do and what he won't do. Success demands a 
good deal of a man. " 

" Papa thinks a great deal of your work. I 
heard him tell a man that you were his right- 
hand man." 

Brennan was thoroughly in earnest now. " I 
hope I am. I like railroad management. Did 



30 % iUcmbcr of tl)c (Jljirb l^ousc. 

you ever think it's like controlling an army," he 
went on, his eyes kindling". "We sit here in the 
central office like officers in a tent." He leaned 
over to map it out on the table. " We mass cars 
here, hurry them up there and hurl them on a 
side-track there. There's an exhilaration about 
such business that lifts it above mere drudgery. 
It becomes command." 

Evelyn's eyes were full of thought. " That's 
what comes of being a man — you can do 
things. " 

" You're almost like a colonel, then, ain't 
you ?" Helene said. " You ought to wear a uni- 
form — I like them; they're lovely." 

"That's what we'll do soon. D'ye know, 
there's nothincr like it for me." He rose and 
paced up and down the room. "If I'd been 
born before the war I'd have been a general, 
sure." He thrust out one powerful hand and 
clutched the air as if seizing a sword. " Power, 
command ! That's why I like this railroad 
business. It's the next thing to war." 

" I like your enthusiasm," sighed Evelyn. " I 
wish we women had — Mr. Davis trusts you 
fully, don't he?" 

"Oh, perfectly, " said Brennan, with a touch 
of his habitual sly fun. " He puts into my hands 
business he wouldn't do himself," he added 



^ illfinbtT of tijc (J:ijirii i^onsL m 

audaciously. " I'm his adjutant, the fellow that 
writes and carries the orders, you know. But 
the carrying of orders breeds the desire to give 
orders; the adjutant always aspires to be general. 
That's what I'm working for besides my board 
and clothes, " 

Brennan walked about excitedly as he talked, 
moved to it, perhaps, by the admiring gaze of 
Helene. Those who supposed they knew him 
best would have been surprised at his sincerity 
of passion. 

" Why, Mr. Brennan, I didn't know you were 
so ambitious. " 

"To be superintendent of the Consolidated is 
one of my two great passions." As he said 
that he grew a shade paler, and his eyes dark- 
ened. 

"What is the other .^ " asked Helene archly, 
as if she half guessed the truth. Both had 
forgotten Evelyn. 

Brennan turned with a sudden impulse, a iine 
light in his brown eyes. " Can't you guess ? 
Vou are !" 

"Why, Tom Brennan, what are you saying?" 
She stared at him with wide blue eyes, the color 
coming into her cheeks. Evelyn leaned for- 
ward, studying his face eagerly. Was it Bren- 
nan who had won, and not Tuttle ? 



32 '^ iltcmbrr of tijc (Eljirb €)onst; 

Brennan was scared at his precipitancy. 
"Don't mind me, Helene ; I'm always puttin' 
me foot in me mout' like the wild Irishman I 
am. Don't you think it's gettin' warmer? It 
seems to me the mercury's on the rise ! " 

Then they all laughed. 

"Yes, I think it is going to shower," said 
Evelyn gravely, from the window. There was 
an awkward pause — but only for an instant. 
Brennan turned the talk away to other themes. 



D 



Chapter III. 

CAN THE SENATE BE BOUGHT ? 

AVIS came in briskly, followed by his 
attorney, Fox. He was a large man, with 
short side-whiskers, white as snow. His face 
was vivid-scarlet with the heat, and his mus- 
tache, close-cut, bristled with the motion of his 
lips. His eyes were keen and restless, and his 
voice fretful, harsh and imperious. He looked 
like a man of great energy beginning to break. 
He wore a short velvet coat, white trousers, 
a rather low-cut vest, and a flowing tie. A man 
of powerful individuality, as was evident from 
his dress. 

"Oh, papa, we're waiting to go home. You 
know you promised to drive us down to-day." 

Davis nodded at Miss Ward, and seated him- 
self hastily at his desk. 

"Yes, yes, yes, but I can't do it now, my 
dear. I've got some business — very im- 
portant." 

"Oh, dear! When can you go?" Helene 

pouted. 

s 33 



34 !2l iUcmbcr of t\)t ©Ijirlr fjousc. 

" Oh, I don't know," said Davis, impatiently, 
"In the course of half an hour, perhaps. Now, 
you take a drive up the avenue, and " 

" Oh, if you want to get rid of us," said 
Helene, in pretended anger. " Mr. Brennan, 
will you please help us into the carriage ? " 

"With pleasure," said Brennan, leaping for- 
ward. There was a gleam of coquetry in 
Helene's eyes that made his face radiant as 
they went out. Fox was a large man, with a 
full gray beard. His mustache was shaved. 
He looked like a Methodist deacon. His hair 
was close-clipped, and his eyes small and blue- 
gray. He looked after the young people while 
Davis lighted his cigar. 

"Ain't she a little kittenish with Brennan ? " 

" Who ? " said Davis, from the desk. 

" Your daughter — Helene." 

Davis looked at him closely. 

"Are you a fool?" he asked, irascibly. 

Fox took a seat in a chair, and softly exhaled 
a puff of smoke. His lips had curves at the 
corners like a baby's. ; 

"I haven't that reputation, Lawrence," he 
said, in his oily, placating way, " and I know 
when a girl is kittenish. Now, you look out, 
or that young Irishman '11 be asking to be 



^ illnnbfr of tl)e ^\]\v^ ^ou0c. 35 

a son-in-law to you. Know the symptoms. 
Raised a couple o' girls myself." 

" Oh, nonsense ! Tom knows his place." 

Fox threw one leg over the arm of his chair. 

" Unquestionably. But there is a good 
chance for disagreement between you and 
Brennan as to just what that place is. I've 
told you all along I didn't like the idea of 
letting that young fellow into our business so 
deep. It ain't safe — now, that's all." 

"Yes, you've told me," said Davis, with a 
scowl on his face. "But somebody had to be 
used. I couldn't do the work." 

" Well, use a man who cares more for money 
and — and less for power. You can handle a 
man that likes money, but you can't trust a man 
that likes power. Brennan's too ambitious." 

Davis turned again to his work. "Oh, bosh ! 
You needn't feel afraid of Tom. I know him 
better'n you do. Why, I've practically raised 
him right here in the office." 

When Fox spoke again it was in a slow, sig- 
nificant w-ay : 

" I ain't afraid of any living man. I don't fear 
Tom Brennan, but I begin to respect him." 

The way in which he said this attracted and 
held Davis' attention. As he returned Fox's gaze 
Brennan came in smiling and took a seat nea. 



36 ^ illcmbcr of tl)c ^Ijiri) gouse. 

the table, opposite Davis. Fox arose and walked 
quietly up and down behind them, his hands in 
his pockets, his eyes on the floor. He was old 
enough to be venerable, but he was not. 

"Well, Tommy," said Davis, quite jovially, 
"what's the result of your polling- the senate to- 
day?" 

"The bill is lost before it is read. Every 
amendment raises opposition," smiled Bren- 
nan, the memory of his last words with Helene 
in his mind. 

" Smoke 'n' let's talk it over, my boy," returned 
Davis, handing him a cigar. They lit cigars, 
and Davis watched him while he puffed a few 
times. " No flies on that, my boy, eh? Twenty 
dollars per hundred. Trial box. Eh ? " Davis 
had but lately taken to smoking " for his nerves," 
and he amused himself by assuming an old 
smoker's airs. 

"They'll do. Governor," returned Brennan, 
puffing critically. " Who treated yeh ? " 

" Hear the man ! " laughed Davis, much 
amused at the insinuation. " Do you think 
I'd" 

"The reason why I asked was — they taste 
very like wj' latest box." 

"You extravagant cuss! You'll embezzle 
next." He became suddenly grave. " Well, 



3. illnnbn- of tl)c ^Ijirb tjousc. :]7 

now about the senate — what do you propose to 
do, Tom ? " 

" Put in some more money. What do you 
propose to do ? " 

"Nothing," said Davis, shortly. 

"Nothing, eh?" 

"Nothing, I tell you," and then continued 
irritably: " I've spent a hundred thousand dollars 
already, and now you — you come to me with 
a scheme to practically buy the senate. Can't it 
be carried some other way? " 

"I don't know any other way. Moral suasion 
is out of date in legislation." 

" Well, we must find some other way. The 
cussed charter ain't worth the risk, Tom." 

" Ain't it, now?" said Brennanjauntily. " Well, 
you wait till you find another road building 
along your very route, and then you'll see 
whether" 

" It never'll be built," Davis burst out, slam- 
ming his fist down on the table. " I don't be- 
lieve they ever intended to build. They're 
involved too deep with their newfangled motor. 
They never'll build, I tell yeh." 

" Well, we can't tell that. And we can't take 
any risks. ' 

"Risks! Well, now, let me tell you," said 
Davis, angrily. " I don't go into this thing 



38 ^ illcmbcr of tijc ^Ijirb fiousc. 

till I'm forced to, and if you don't use a dif- 
ferent tone" 

Fox's soft, smooth voice insinuated itself 
into the conversation, like a gentle hand. 

"Easy, Davis, easy! Now don't be rash! 
Don't make the mistake of your life here ! 
We can't afford" 

Davis turned on him. "Who's the man in 
this thing-, anyhow? Who represents the Con- 
solidated Road ? You or I ? " 

" You do. General," said Brennan, easily 
but dangerously cool. " But I'm the repre- 
sentative of the Third House, and I hold the 
balance of power. See? Now look here. I 
know you can't afford not to go into this last 
move. I tell you, if you don't, your charter is 
dead as the gates of Gehenna. Now, if you 
can't be sensible about this thing, be as sen- 
sible as you can. The Third House is all right. 
I've got the whole batch and bilin' of 'em, 
as the feller said, but the senators must be 
fixed." 

" I'll be damned if I go into such a busi- 
ness." Davis settled back, angrily. "I'm 
done. Now, that settles it." 

Fox was alarmed, and struck in, persua- 
sively: "Oh, come, come, Davis! This is no 
time for you to get thin-skinned. You hadn't 



^ ilUmbcr of tl)c (Hjirb tjousc. 39 

any objection to buying- the Third House. 
Now, why kick about the first or the sec- 
ond?" 

Davis rose and walked nervously about. 
His highly colored face grew mottled in his 
excitement. 

" Because it's dangerous. I don't care for 
the principle so much. My duty is to suc- 
ceed. I believe we ought to succeed. No- 
body can serve the public as well as we do. 
If we don't buy 'em I suppose somebody else 
will. But it's a different thing dealing with 
the senators. They're officials. It's a State- 
prison offense." 

"No danger at all to you, Governor/" said 
Brennan. "I'll take care of that. I make all 
the advances. They can't get hold of you." 

"Certainly," said Fox. "You are to know 
nothing about it ; Tom and I look after the whole 
matter. All is, you must disburse for the com- 
pany — and Tom and I will go ahead. You can 
trust us.'' 

Davis appeared to relent, and Brennan struck 
in jocularly, with a touch of the Irish dialect: 

"It's as safe as smoken'. Just give Sammy 
discretionary power over me, and me dis- 
cretionary power over the Third House and the 



40 Q[ illcmbcr of tl)c (i[l)ULi fjousc. 

senate, and we'll have the bill t'roo like a weeny 
goet t'roo a garrden fence. See ?" 

" It's easy talkin'." 

"It's easy doen'," said Brennan, lifting his 
right hand into the air and shaking it in a pow- 
erful oresture. " Give me a hundred thousand 
dollars, and I'll capture au/^j' legislathur in this 
great and glohrious"— — 

Davis turned on him in distrust. " A 
hundred thousand dollars ? It does very well 
for you to talk money so glibly. You've got 
nothing to lose. I begin to think I've put too 
much money into the hands of a man" 

Brennan interrupted him sternly, something 
ominous creeping into his voice : 

"Aisy, now, Governor. Honor among — 
gentlemen, y' know. You'll give me money 
when I want it, and you'll give it without 
scratch of pen, or down goes your Air Line and 
up bobs the star of the Motor Line. Under- 
stand? " 

Davis, unwontedly irritable, turned upon him 
with set teeth. "Are you threatening me, you 
cussed gutter-snipe ? Damned if I don't begin 
to believe you stand in with that blackmailing 
crew. If I knew it, by heavens, I'd" 

Fox again came between them, with his soft, 
soothinor hands and that marvelous voice. 



2, illnnbiT of tl)c ^Ijirb gousc. 41 

" Now, now, wait a moment, brother. Now 
you — you're irritated to-day. You agreed to 
this yesterday. You came here to-day to go 
into this thing-. Now wait a moment," he said, 
stopping- Davis, who was about to speak. 
" You've already bought off two or three other 
Hnes. We've passed your bill through the 
Third House, Tommy and I — and the second 
house — we've carried it to the senate" 

" Yes. Cost a hundred and fifty thousand 
dollars to do it, too. It's too much." 

" It couldn't have been done cheaper. Tom- 
my and I have worked like Trojans to pull yeh 
through. But suppose Tommy has been a little 
extravagant. See what we're getting — this 
charter that is worth millions. I tell you, Law- 
rence, we've got to grab this thing right now. 
The dear, damned public are waking up to the 
fact that they produce the value of these fran- 
chises, and not we, and they're going to charge 
us for them." 

Brennan, who had mastered himself again, 
resumed his jocular air. 

"You bet! And there's Tuttle opposing 
every step and putting in a bill to charge a 
graduated increasing annual rent for street 
privileges. I tell you. General, we've got to 
strike right now." 



42 ^ ^fHcmber of tl)c ^ljirl> ^ousf. 

" What's the matter with that man Tuttle ? " 
said Davis, his mind taking another direction 
for the moment. " Can't he be fixed ? " 

"Fixed? Naw ! He's got his eyes on bigger 
boodle." 

'.'What's that?" 

" Congress and all that. See ? He's doing 
the scholar in politics act. P. P. — purifying 
politics. He's a victim of the iridescent dream, 
as Ingalls called it." 

" I know something else he's got his eyes on, 
Tommy," said Fox, with a sly look at Brennan, 
" and that's" 

Brennan leaped to his feet, divining that Fox 
meant Helene. 

"Stop that!" 

" Aha, Tommy ! That's what tickles yeh ! " 

** Just keep your tongue off my private affairs, 
will you ? " 

Fox was vastly amused at his success in irri- 
tating Brennan. He shook in silent merriment. 

" Oh, all right, Tommy ! I only wanted to 
warn yeh, that's all." 

" You'd better warn him," replied Brennan 
darkly. Davis was impatient at all of this side 
conversation, in which he apparently had no 
share. 

"Come, come! If you fellers have got 



^ illembcr of tl)c (^l)ub ijousc. 43 

through gabbhng-, let's return to business. 
What are we to do next ? Move on the senate? 
I don't Hke it, but if I " 

" I propose to move on your nearest neighbor, 
Ward," said Brennan with quiet decision. 

'' On Rufus Ward?" 

"On Rufus, of Schoharie." 

Fox smiled in enjoyment of Brennan's attack. 
"Oh, Tommy is equal to anything." 

"On Rufus Ward," continued Davis, dropping 
his eyes in sudden thought. " Do you think you 
can get him, reasonably ?" he asked at last. 

^'What do you call reasonably?" 

"Ten thousand, say." 

" Just now, yes."' 

" What do you mean by just now ? " 

"Well, I happen to know he was in the cop- 
per trust and got dropped with a thickening sud, 
as the reporters say. He needs money bad." 

" Is that so ?" cried Davis, eagerly, pitilessly. 
" Then buy him — buy him ! He's our trump — 
but don't waste money," he added. 

Fox shook again with silent laughter. 

" Ain't it curious that a man can turn right 
around on himself an'" 

"Trust your Tommy, General," said Bren- 
nan, " and he'll carry the bill." 



44 ^ illcmbcr of tijc (Jl)iri) jQousc. 

Davis brought his hand heavily down on the 
desk. 

"Done!— That is," he exclaimed hastily, 
"consult with my lawyer, there. He has this 
thing in hand. Look to him. He represents 
me, you know." 

"That's all right," laughed Brennan. "I 
understand your delicacy." Then he turned 
upon them both with a face transformed into 
something stern, masterful, almost ferocious. 
His words came slowly through his set teeth. 
He tapped the table softly with the tips of his 
fingers ; his chin was thrust out and down in a 
terrible o-esture. 

" Gentlemen, don't fool yourselves. Tom 
Brennan knows the situation thoroughly. If I 
take all the risk, you may gamble I get my pay 
for it. Understand ? " 

An explosion and final settlement was post- 
poned by Helene's voice sounding outside, and 
then her knock upon the door. " Come, poppa, 
haven't you got through your business yet? 
If you haven't, I'm going home alone." She 
opened the door and walked in. 

Davis rose hastily, wiping the perspiration 
from his purple face. He was glad of the inter- 
ruption. " Yes, yes, my dear, I'm ready to go. 



^ iUcmbcr of tl)c Sljir^ ^ousc. 45 

Well, gentlemen, I'll leave you to talk that 
matter over alone." 

As Davis bustled about collecting his papers, 
Helene turned to Brennan : " You'll come 
down, won't you, and bring your tennis suit?" 

" Isn't it rather warm for tennis ? " said Tom, 
in the tender tone with which lovers make utter 
commonplaces infinitely significant. 

" Oh, no, not down by the sea. In the even- 
ing it's just delightful. You'll come ? " 

" Of course I'll come. I'd come if 'twere to 
me death," he said. 

"Oh, that's nice," said Helene, with easy 
appreciation of his intent to be funny. "And 
you must be my partner, so I can beat. I like 
to be on the side that wins." 

" So do I. I generally am." 

" I know it. That's the reason I " 

" Come, come ! " said Davis, with an unusual 
touch of asperity in his voice. Brennan went 
out with them. Fox watched them go, then 
began whistling softly and looking at the ceil- 
ing. Brennan came back in a few minutes, 
humming a tune, the love-light in his pleasant 
brown eyes. 

" Rather complaisant with you, my boy," said 
Fox. "You've made an impression there." 



46 ^ iHcmbcr of tl)c ^Ijirb ^ouse. 

Brennan silenced him with a facile scowl and 
quick wave of his hand. 

" Leave that. You're too fresh," he said, with 
an insolent tone. He went to the telephone, 
and rang. 

"Hello! Capitol buildino-.? Give me Colonel 
Mott. Is that you. Colonel ? Yes. Well, did 
you tell Ward I'd like to see him? All right; 
much obliged. Come down when you can ; I 
want to see you. All right. Good-by." Ring- 
ing off, he turned and said in a cold, quick, 
business-like way: "Ward's on his way down 
here. Now, I want this whole thing in my 
hands. How much money you got with you ? 
No more checks in this business. We're play- 
ing too big stakes now." 

It was evident that Brennan was in a bad 
humor, and Fox did not care to cross him. He 
took some packages of money from his pocket. 
"There's ten thousand dollars in this packet, 
and five thousand dollars in each of these." He 
handed one of the smaller packages to Brennan, 
while he put the other small package back into 
his own pocket. 

" Now, I'd like a memorandum of some kind." 

"You shall have it. Robert, write this: 
' Received ten thousand dollars on account, 
June 1st.' " 



2. illnnbcr of tl)c ®l)irb ff)OU0f. 47 

"No cipher signature ?" asked Fox. 

*' Nothing more than that. We're getting 
into pretty close quarters. Honor among 
thieves, old boy. Now, you get out before 
Ward comes in and sees you." 

Fox delivered the larger package of money, 
and went quietly out. 



Chapter IV. 

THE GUTTER-SNIPE MUST RISE. 

BRENNAN was as much a product of our 
society, and especially of our government, 
as the electric railway or the telephone, or the 
milk trust. His like is to be seen in every hotel 
corridor. He comes into the city on the nine 
o'clock boat or train, reading the report of the 
stock market. His normal attitude in his office 
is leaning his ear to the telephone or running 
the stock reporter's ribbon through his hands 
deftly. He thinks in "schemes." His hands 
clutch money. 

It is not true to say Brennan was conscience- 
less. There are things which he could not be 
brought to do by any pressure. The explanation 
is, that in his world the ordinary ideas of morality 
did not hold. He did not consider himself a vil- 
lain, therefore, and the attack he was about to 
make on the honor of a senator figured itself to 
him as a piece of justifiable diplomacy. Isolated 
from the necessities of the day, the act might 

«8 



!2l iUcmfacr of tl)£ ®l)irb ^amt. 49 

have seemed a little "tough," but, as it stood, 
it did not give him a twinge. 

He was a product of the necessity a poor 
Irish boy is under, to be smart and shifty, in 
order to succeed. He was a bright child at 
school, and a bright boy in the office of a com- 
mission merchant and broker. His big bright 
eyes saw everything that was going on, and his 
quick ears heard and returned the coarse ex- 
pressions, and the cynical philosophy as well, 
which mark such places. 

It could not have made of him other than a 
bold, quick and altogether able man of expedi- 
ents. He had caught the eye of Davis a dozen 
years back, and, having taken him into his office 
and finding him efficient, and (as he believed) 
trustworthy, the great Railway Duke had, year 
by year, enlarged his confidence till no man in 
his employ had the same intimate knowledge of 
his most private affairs. 

At his suggestion Brennan studied law, and 
he was an adroit lawyer when Davis began to 
intrust to him the important matter of lobbying 
in the interests of the road. For several years, 
therefore, Brennan had attended to the work 
of suppressing unwelcome legislation, and the 
equally important work of "inducing" legislation 
which was desirable. He had thus come to 



50 '^ illcmbcr of tlj£ Sljlrti ^onsc. 

know everybody, and especially to know any 
shady part of their lives, the knowledge of which 
would add to his control over them in case of 
need. 

He went about all this as a skillful chess-player 
would plan for future moves. He had no malice, 
and the moral consideration had no place with 
him. He knew Senator Ward's vulnerable spot, 
and he aimed his spear there as remorselessly as 
Hagan upon Siegfried, but without envy or 
rage. 

After Fox went out, he approached the young 
clerk in the outer office — Robert, his half- 
brother. 

"Rob, I'm expecting Senator Ward. Of 
course, you won't be able to see him, and you'll 
be busy and won't hear him." A faint smile 
lighted Robert's eyes. "I'm going to take the 
old man into camp," Brennan added. " You 
know his little weakness. All's fair in love and 
— politics." He broke out into a song. 

Robert went back to his work. He was 
slightly deaf, which exaggerated his naturally 
cold-blooded, methodical nature. He had not 
been secured because of this defect, but it was an 
admirable failing, as Davis recognized. While 
he had Tom's keen, analytical mind, he had too 
little emotion to be ambitious ; his deafness 



^ ilUmbcr of tljc ^Ijirb i^ouac 51 

separated him at an early age from young peo- 
ple, and he lived a secluded, bookish life, when 
out of the office. 

The telephone bell rang, and Brennan went 
to it. "Hello! Who is it? Oh, it's you, old 
boy — Horse race? — To-day? — Not much — 
Too hot — Hot, hot, hot ! — No race in mine — 
What ? — I don't care if it were Sunol and 
Wilkes — Is, eh? — Charlie's goin', of course. 
Oh, certainly — Who are the girls? — Oh, you 
infernal reprobates. Haven't you got any consci- 
entious scruples? Scricples — Con-j-(f/-entious 
scru-ples ? No, I shouldn't say you had! — No 
use! — Oh, go chase yourself! — I say can't go, 
and that's all — Oh, go take a walk! — don't 
bother me about that — You told me that before 
— Yes, you did — The day we went out — Oh, 
go to — Good-by." 

As he turned from the telephone he con- 
fronted Senator Ward, who had entered. "Ah, 
good afternoon. Senator ! Glad to see you ! 
Sit down. Pretty hot, ain't it?" 

"Very warm. Don't think I can stay," replied 
Ward, who was a tall man with a long gray 
beard. He had a gentle face and a small round 
head. 

"Oh, you must! How is Mrs. Ward and 
Evelyn ? " 



•52 ^ iUcmbcr of tijc (Jljirli ^oubc. 

Ward replied a little stiffly : "Very well, 
thank you." 

" Sit down, Senator, and have a glass of cham- 
pagne. Just off the ice. Cold as Greenland." 
He poured a large glass for him, and extended 
it close to his face, as if to make the sight and 
smell irresistible. 

Ward took it hesitatingly. " Thank you ! 
The heat seems to take hold of me this year 
more than ever." He seemed to be already 
flushed with drinking, as Brennan's quick eye 
perceived. 

" I saw your daughter to-day — lovely as a 
June rose. Take a cigar ! " 

Ward refused the cigar, but sat down ten- 
tatively in his chair. 

" Yes, she's in town to-day. But never 
mind family affairs," he said, with a change of 
tone. " What's the business you want to see me 
about ? " 

"Ah, sure ! don't plunge into that till you git 
y'r breath and cool off a little," laughed Bren- 
nan, with a touch of his Irish blarney. "Let me 
fill up y'r glass. Oh, it's quite like watther, 
Senator." 

Ward ceased to protest and drank again, 
while Brennan went on: " It's mighty coolin' on 
the tongue. It's a da)' like this makes a man 



01 iltcmbcr of tl)c (Jljirii Cjousc. 53 

want to be built like a crockery-crate, so the 
wind 'ud blow troo him. How's business be- 
neath the Granite Goddess, anyhow ? " 

"Not much doing- these Jiot days," replied 
Ward, gettinor more at his ease. 

" When do you think the Consolidated bill 
will come up ?" 

"Possibly on Monday — by Tuesday, sure." 

" You're one of the opposition ? " 

"Yes," said Ward, with a touch of his sena- 
torial manner. " I think it's time we began to 
hedge the power of these great monopolies." 

Brennan took an easy position in his chair. 
" On general principles that's true, and I'm with 
you, but in this particular case, it seems to me. 
it would be a great benefit to the public to have 
the charter granted to us. Take another glass. 
Try this stuff of Teck's. I think it's pretty 
good." He poured another glass and extended 
it as he glibly went on : " No other corporation 
can build a road in the same time. No other 
can give the same cheap fares and rates, because 
they ain't got the connection. Your idea's good, 
but the time ain't ripe for it. When the State's 
ready to buy our lines, we'll be ready to sell — 
at a reasonable figure, of course. But the time 
ain't ripe." 

"That's true enough, but we mus' sacrifice 



54 ^ ilTcmbcr of tl)c (ill)irb fymc. 

something- for principle," said Ward, with a 
touch of elaborate gravity, which evidenced his 

growing intoxication. '' The public demand " 

"The public!" exclaimed Brennan, in vast 
disgust. "Good God! You go ahead, vote 
against the Consolidated, and when a man has 
to pay ten cents where he might have paid but 
five, or travels an extra hour, you'll find out 
how much the public care for principle ! Prin- 
ciple ? The damned public wouldn't know a 
principle with a bell on it ! " 

" Come, come ! Tha's too hard, Tom, The 
public know 'nough " 

"Enoueh to demand that its leo-islature shall 
bear all mistakes. They'll demand a bill they 
don't see the effects of, and then down their rep- 
resentatives for carrying out their will. The 
public be damned ! It ain't business to follow 
their whims." 

"Tha's true, in a measure." His eyelids fell 
over his eyes and clung together for just a 
perceptible instant. Brennan saw that the time 
was come to make his attack. He leaned over 
and tapped the senator on the knee. "Well, 
now, to come to business. I hear things are not 
going well with yeh, Senator." 

" Who — who — told yeh ?" said Ward, rous- 
ing up. 



^ ilkmbcr of tl)c ^Ijirb ^ousc. 55 

" Mrs. Ward just hinted it. Now, if I can be 
of any use to you, Senator — you know Mrs. 
Ward considers me an old friend." 

Ward winked slowly. His voice was thick. 

"Well, t-to tell the truth, Tom, things are 
goin' bad. I've got raise six'een thousan'by the 
firs' of July, and it's worryin' me. Yeh see, I 
wen' in'o copper." 

" I understand. Well, now, why don't you 
let me step in here and help you out ? " 

" D'ye mean tha'. Tommy ? " 

''Ever)^ word of it. Senator." 

"You're a brick, Tom. Tha's what y' are, 
but I can't give you any s'curity." 

"Oh, never mind about that. I'll let you 
have ten thousand in cash to-day." 

*'You will. On w-what conditions?." 

"On condition you help me a little." 

"How's that. Tommy? I don't un'erstan'." 

"By not working against the Consolidated 
bill." 

Ward stared at him in silence, slowly revolv- 
ing Brennan's words in his mind. Then he 
rose unsteadily, buttoning his coat around his 
spare figure, in the attempt at dignified indigna- 
tion. " D'ye mean to bribe me ? If yeh 
do" 

"No, no, no! Sit down, sit down! No 



56 ^ illcinbcr of tl)c ^l)iri) Ciousc. 

bribe about it. Let me explain," He put his 
hand on the Senator's shoulder ; but it was his 
voice, rather than touch, that caused the old 
man to yield and seat himself again. " That's 
one condition. Because, you see, Senator, I'm 
interested in the road. You didn't know that, 
of course ? " 

"Wouldn't 'a' made any difference. The 
principle " 

" But that's only one condition, and the one 
I care least about," went on Brennan, softly and 
persuasively. "You see. Senator, I — I admire 
your daughter very much, and Mrs. Ward has — 
seemed like a mother to me. Now, you see 
why I'm " 

"Is tha' so, Tom?" He was surprised and 
helpless before such graceless lying. 

"That's so, that's so! I simply can't stand 
by and see them suffer. It ain't right." He 
took a package from his pocket. " Now, here's 
ten thousand dollars in cash. I'll lay it right 
here in this drawer, and step out into the other 
office a moment. I don't give it to you. I don't 
even lend it. All I ask you to do is to with- 
draw your opposition and speak a good word 
for me when the time comes. You're perfectly 
free to do as you like, you understand ?" Ward 
was about to protest. " Hold on, now ! Don't 



Qi illcmbiT of tl)f (Jl)irb C)ousc. 57 

be rash. Think it over, and if you need more 
to pull you out of your hole, draw on me as on 
a son." 

Ward pulled himself together with a herculean 
effort, and buttoned up his coat tightly around 
him to the last button. " See here, Brennan, 
y-you can' talk t' me like that, I'm not tha' 
kind of a man. No ten thousand dollars can 
buy me." 

" I'm not buying you. Don't you go off half- 
cocked ! " 

" Well, my vote — it's the same thing, 'xactly 
the same thino-." 

o 

"No, it ain't. Now, hold on. Look at this 
thing sensibly. The case is this : I ask your 
vote for a bill. It's a good bill, you'll acknowl- 
edge that — nothing the matter with the bill. 
Now, you've been opposed. Possibly you've 
been wrong. A change of your vote is a little 
thing to you — a great thing to us. Here we 
stand asking a franchise which is vitally neces- 
sary to the people." 

"It belongs to the people." When he began 
to argue Brennan felt sure of him. 

" No, it don't. It belongs to us if we can get 
it. The people can't use it, only through us. 
Now, be reasonable ; give us your vote" 

Ward burst forth in a weak explosion of 



58 ^ illcmbcr of tljc ^Ijirb C)ouse. 

wrath. "By heavens, I'll go to the wall 'fore 
I take a bribe." 

There was a dangerous pause, during which 
Brennan gazed straight into the Senator's eyes. 
A look came upon his face that took all the 
youth and good nature out of it. " Go to the 
wall, eh ? " 

"Yes, sir. Better die honest." 

"And ruin your family ? " 

"Yes, sir," replied Ward ; but he was visibly 
weakening. " My family rather have me" 

" Going to the wall ain't so funny as you 
imagine. So you kick against my offer, do 
yeh ? " 

"Yes, sir, I do. Of course, if I could con- 
sis'en'ly " 

"And ten thousand dollars is no object, eh ?" 

" No, sir — nor fifty thousand." 

"All right, sir." He leaned over and spoke 
something in a low voice to Ward, who glared 
at him rigid with fear and shame. " Oh, it was 
nothing criminal, Senator; but it would make a 
spicy column in the newspaper, all the same." 

"God A'mighty, Tom — you wouldn't — who 
told" 

Brennan faced him with a set look in his eye. 
" Never mind where I learned it. Mebbe the 
hackman told me. It's my business to know all 



^ ilTcmbcr of tl)c Sl)irb ijousf. 59 

such things. That's the way a man succeeds in 
this world. Publish it ? You bet your life I'll 
publish every detail. I tell you, I'm going to 
have this bill — fair means if possible, any means 
if necessary. That's business. Now, what are 
you going to do ? Now, don't swear and make 
a fool of yourself. Think it all over carefully." 

"Don't — don't press me, Tom. Give me a 
little time." 

Brennan saw that he had gained his point, 
and was ready to yield one. "Certainly, Sena- 
tor, only the bill comes up soon." 

"A-all right, Tom. But — it's a serious thing." 
Davis looked in from the outer office, unseen by 
Ward, who had turned toward Brennan. 

" Oh, nonsense. Senator ; you're too old- 
fashioned about these things. It's just like find- 
ing something. Nothing at all after you get 
used to it. Now, I'll depend on you." 

"Well, I'll see," said Ward, going unsteadily. 

"All right. I'll see you to-morrow. Good- 
by ! " He accompanied the Senator to the door 
of the inner office ; then returned to his desk, 
leavino- Robert to see him to the elevator. 
When Davis entered from Fox's office he was 
seated at the table, with his hat on, a cigar in 
his mouth, writing busily. As Davis spoke, he 
looked over his shoulder with an ominous 



GO vl illcmbcr of tl)c (Jljiri) fjouse. 

change of manner. "Oh, it's you, is it. Gover- 
nor? Thought you'd gone home." 

'' I started to, but I met Binney, and the fact 
is, I'm worried. I want to have a word in pri- 
vate on this thing." 

Brennan's smile still dimpled his smooth 
cheek, but the look in his eyes belied it, as the 
smile of the pugilist belies his lowering eye- 
brows and clenched fists. His voice had a tone 
in it that Davis had never heard before. " Well, 
now, I'm glad you come back. I want a word 
with yo?c," he said, with a challenging inflection 
in his voice. " You and I've got to come to an 
understanding on this thing," he added, wheeling 
his chair about and facing Davis, his elbow on 
the table. " I'm a gutter-snipe, but I don't want 
it rubbed in." 

" What do you mean ? " 

"Sit down an' I'll tell you just what I mean," 
said Brennan, in a tone that destroyed all differ- 
ence in position between them. "You took me 
into this office ten years ago, and you've given 
me a chance to rise. I'm grateful, etc., etc., but 
I'm also aware that I give more than value re- 
ceived. To-day I'm your confidential man, your 
lobbyist and attorney at five thousand a year, 
and — perkesites. But the day has come for a 
rise. The gutter-snipe must rise." 



^ iHembcr of tl)e ^Ijtrlr ^ousc. 61 

Davis looked at him, his face purpling with 
rage. He thought he measured Brennan's in- 
tention. "Well, didn't I agree to your own 
proposition ? " 

"Yes, to all the proposition I cared to state 
in the presence of a third party. You're per- 
fectly aware that we're engaged in what the laws 
of the United States call a crime" 

"Good God, man! Of course I know it!" 
Davis burst forth irritably. " That's the reason 
I " He stopped abruptly. 

" Oh, go on ! Don't hesitate ! " said Bren- 
nan, with ferocious irony. "That's the reason 
you stay out of it and send me into it. Well, as 
I say, I'm ready to go, but I want pay for it." 

" Well, well ! Make your terms. I suppose 
that's what all this leads to. How much do you 
want ? " 

Brennan straightened up and looked him square 
in the face. His tone was low, but inflexible. 
" I want to be raised from the humble but lucra- 
tive position of member of the Third House to the 
distinction of being a member of the house of 
Davis & Company." 

"What's that?" demanded Davis in amaze- 
ment. 

" I want to be recognized as a stockholder in 
the Consolidated Road." 



62 2. illcmbcr of tl)c (Eljlrb fjoust; 

"Why, man, that's out of the question !" 

" No, it ain't. It's.easy to Lawrence B. Davis. 
But that ain't all. I want to be _^eneral superin- 
tendent of this road, and son-in-law to its 
president." 

Davis leaped up, his face mottled with blood. 
"What? Why, you infernal fool! You're 
crazy ! " 

Brennan's voice dropped a note lower, and 
became hard as iron. " Never saner, and never 
more in earnest, either. I know what I want, 
and how to get it. The gutter-snipe must rise." 

"You — you — you — talk like an idiot." 

" I'll make a good superintendent to you." 

" I'll see you cold first," stormed Davis. 

The smile faded out of Brennan's face, and 
his half-closed eyes had a sinister glare. " I'll 
see you in State's prison last, if you don't keep 
your temper and talk sense." 

" You don't mean " 

" I mean just that," Brennan replied, coldly 
malignant. " I'll send you to hell, if necessary, 
and I can do it. I'm too deep in this thing to 
be left out of the calculations." 

Davis looked at him in silence, his face filled 
with something like fear and astonishment. 
"Oh. bosh!" he said, recovering himself. 
" You ain't got any hold on me. Your word 



:7l iHembcr of tl)e ^Ijirb C)ouse. 63 

won't count against mine. You'd only damn 
yourself." 

"Try it and see, Governor. Remember, 
you're a father. I'd hate to antagonize my 
father-in-law." 

"You damned scoundrel!" shouted Davis, 
trembling with rage. " You're not fit to touch 
her." 

"Well, you're not exactly a monument of 
virtue," sneered Brennan. "You may disgrace 
me yet. " 

The two men stood facing each other in 
silence, Brennan smiling easily again, Davis 
struggling for control. His hands trembled as 
he gathered some papers off his desk and 
turned to face Brennan again, whose smile en- 
raged him almost beyond measure. His hands 
shook. "I've a good mind to smash your 
face," he snarled at last, through his set teeth. 
His rage was not because of Brennan's villainy, 
but because it was directed toward him." 

"Don't be rash! Take more time to think 
of it. I'm a good soldier, General, but when I 
scale a barricade and bring back a flag, I want 
promotion, not wages. The gutter-snipe must 
rise. 

Davis went silently toward the door. His 
face was pale now, and set like granite, in anger. 



64 ^ illcmbcr of tl)£ ®l)irb ^oust. 

He spoke through his set teeth. "I'll answer 
you to-morrow, you miserable " 

With a sudden impulse, Brennan threw him- 
self against the door, his face grown ferocious, 
his voice terrible. 

"By God! you'll answer me now — right 7tow, 
before you go out of this door ! D'ye under- 
stand ? You've worked this thing carefully, but 
I haven't studied your methods for nothing. 
You think I've got no hold on you, eh?" 

"Open that door!" yelled Davis, impotently 
furious. 

"I'll open another door for yeh," replied 
Brennan, leveling his finger at him, as if he pre- 
sented a revolver. " I can prove that you paid, 
on May 28th, five thousand dollars to Senator 
Hoi" 

"You lie! You know nothing about" 



"Don't I? I know enough to publish your 
name in headlines an inch deep to-morrow 
morning, and, by the eternal heavens, I'll do it 
if you don't come to terms." 

The old man was seized with a sudden weak- 
ness. The set eyes and the inflexible voice of 
the younger man shook him strangely. In the 
pause which followed he felt he had met his 
master. "What do you want?" he said, 
hoarsely. 



^ illnnbtr of tl)£ ®ljirb ^onst. u 

"^^ I've told you. Is it peace or war?" 

As Davis stood there, with clenched and 
restless hands, the blood went out of his face, 
leaving him white almost as paper. When he 
spoke, his voice was husky with fear and rage. 
" Peace ! Don't be a fool ! " 

Brennan opened the door, Davis went out, 
and Brennan followed, saying, in a breezy 
tone: "Well, good evening, Governor. Don't 
worry about this at all. I'll see that it goes 
through." He closed the door, went to the 
table, and poured out some liquor with hands 
that trembled. As he took his seat in a chair 
opposite his brother, he said: "Holy smoke! 
It's tough on the nerves. I'll have to go to 
Europe soon for my health." 

"What did you say.-*" 

"I said I guessed I'd go over to Hilliard's 
awhile," Brennan replied, rising to go. 



Chapter V. 

THE THIRD HOUSE IN SESSION. 

nPHE Hilliard House lobby and bar-room was 
^ filled with a throng' of men whose easy at- 
titudes, unconstrained laughter and absorbed 
attention upon each other's words denoted that 
this was their well-accustomed rendezvous after 
the sessions had closed for the day. 

The high-salaried bartender served the drinks 
and sponged the bar with smiling and yet elab- 
orate ease. Everybody knew him, and his chaff 
was highly relished by the distinguished law- 
makers who came and went along the polished 
glass rod. The whole atmosphere was jovial, 
unconstrained, careless, and full of vitality. 

All the men were well dressed and freshly 
barbered — many of them were handsome in a 
hard, superficial way — most of them were un- 
der forty, though here and there a man of fifty 
shook his purpling face and close-clipped pink 
and white head as some younger man told a 
"rich joke." On most faces the swollen veins 
suggested high living, which the increasing slope 



!2l iHfinbcr of tlje 5ri)iri) ^onst. 67 

of the waistcoat showed to a certainty. In their 
eyes an insatiate lust lay like a half-concealed 
ember, 

Pearl-oray plug- hats, dangling gold chains, 
snug, light-colored Prince Albert suits, and gay 
neckties were the common dress. Their hands, 
adorned with rings set with bizarre stones, grace- 
fully raised and removed cigars, and the point of 
a story often came after a significant wait, while 
the little finger knocked the ashes from the end of 
the daintily extended cigar. 

Many of the men were exchange gamblers, gen- 
tlemanly sellers of mining stock, men of expe- 
dients. Others were legislators of the purchas- 
able sort — or, at least, of the sort capable of being 
influenced. Some were commercial travelers — 
knowing fellows, who never forget an acquaint- 
ance, nor how to use him — and percolating 
through this loosely grouped throng were the 
members of the Third House, the unknown law- 
makers of the land. 

These were not distinguishable by dress, only 
by manner. They were invariably the centers of 
small groups of listening legislators, talking 
eagerly with emphatic gesticulations of the'right 
elbow, while they mapped out on the palm of the 
left hand the scheme which they believed " ought 
to go through." 



G8 ^ iHcmbcr of tl)c (J:i)lri) f)ou0e. 

Here a row of three were leaning upon the bar, 
while an extremely handsome man of large frame 
gave a mysterious order to the barkeeper. Over 
in the corner a short m.an in a cutaway coat 
laughed up at a group looking down at him, his 
broad face, with mutton-chop whiskers, making 
him look like a well-fed English curate. As one 
passed by a group of uproarious laughers he 
caught a few words which told him they were 
rehearsing the story of a senator who was taken 
home from a certain house, " all his money gone 
and his false teeth lost ! " 

Another group, as evidently composed of the 
third and second houses, was discussing the bill 
for the division of the town of Bradford, an act 
in the interests of the tax-dodgers, and there 
was not wantinof here and there a scowling^ 
brow as some man rehearsed a grievance. 

The business of the bar and the cafe adjoining 
filled the place with smell, as the ripple of talk 
did with sound, beneath which the constant click 
of heels and whisking scrape of soles came 
unceasingly as they came and went from the 
lobby to the bar and back to the lobby again. 

The scene was essentially American and 
modern, Radbourn said to Tuttle as he sat in the 
caf^, which opened off the lobby. 

" The Third House in session," said Tuttle. 



Q[ iWrmber of tl)c ^l)irb ^ou0f. r,o 

"Discussing your next move, no doubt/' 

" Yes," said Tuttle, with a faint smile ; " I sup- 
pose I'm the cause of some of that talk out 
there." He sat at a table near the door, with 
his back to the table. " That's the reason I 
prefer to sit with my back to the wall. My 
work in oretting- a joint committee appointed 
don't alarm them much, but they don't love me 
any better for it, I imagine." 

" I understand. And that is your Third 
House ? "' 

"Yes. Do you see a white-whiskered man, 
with a short coat and gay necktie ? " 

" Yes, but how can you see him ? " 

'"^In my mind's eye, Horatio.' Well, he's an 
ex-senator. Next to Tom Brennan one of the 
strongest men in the lobby. You see, the more 
of a political pull a man has, the more valuable 
he is as a member of the Third House. He's a 
Republican, but that don't matter in the lobby. 
Party lines don't count for much." 

" No ; a vote's a vote here. Magnificent use 
to put suffrage to — eh ? " 

" Splendid ! Do you see a short man with 
a broad face, mutton-chop whiskers ? " 

■" I did a moment ago ; he's out of range." 

" Well, that's Bob Merritt, ex-mayor of Sun- 
cook, ex-representative from Suncook County, 



:o ^ iltembcr of tl)c <JI)irii fiousf. 

and so it goes. You wouldn't think, to look and 
hear that merry group, that they were criminals 
and liable to incarceration." 

"They probably differ with you about crimi- 
nality. They consider themselves jolly good 
fellows. They are to be found in every great 
hotel lobby in America, I've studied them 
closely — no doubt you have. I don't imagine 
that they keep awake nights thinking of their 
sins." 

"I should say not," laughed Tuttle. "Why, 
take that very Tom Brennan — I meet him in 
private life, and I can't help liking the man 
personally. At the same time I know he's just 
like those jolly fellows — clasps hands on an 
infamous bargain with the same smile and 
cordial word he'd use in extending a cigar- 
case." 

" What appals me, Tuttle, especially, is the 
moral atmosphere they live in, which destroys 
well-meaning young legislators as malaria at- 
tacks and undermines the Northern man as he 
enters the swamps of the South. Many a well- 
meaning lawyer or merchant comes into this 
political world, intending to serve his people and 
not monopolists, but he loses his grip on right 
and justice. My four years in Washington 
showed me that. To many men, justice and 



^ iltcmbcr of tl)c ^Ijirb ^oiisr. n 

truth are not convictions of their own — they 
take moral color from their surroundings — and 
this world of the trickster is fatal to moral 
health." 

" Yet they're happy," mused Tuttle, " and 
they succeed — that's the demoralizing- thing. 
Business is like it — success is so much easier 
along conscienceless lines." His face grew sad. 
" I never could have succeeded as Brennan 
has, alone, unaided, uneducated. He'll go to 
the top, if he don't get into the hands of the law 
— and he'll do it in his own unscrupulous way, 
too, that's the worst of it. It makes me de- 
spondent sometimes." 

Radbourn looked out into the lobby for a 
moment. "They are products. In their world 
is the latest survival of universal warfare. In 
their world there grow no flowers of pity and 
remorse — only the scentless roses of passion 
and greed. Life is a mock and a gibe. It is a 
ring where, if you throttle or knock out your 
opponent according to rules, no shadow of 
blame attaches to you. In their air no philos- 
ophy except the heartless cynicism of roues and 
gamblers gets a voice." 

"And these men marry and have children," 
said Tuttle, as Radbourn paused. 

"Yes, and their wives live on the money they 



73 ^ illcinbiT of tl)c (?II)Trb fjonse. 

wrench or hlch from others, and never question 
where it comes from. The consciences of 
women need awaking if" 

There was an outburst of voices in the bar- 
room. 

'* That must be Brennan," said Tuttle. 

"A handsome young" fellow, with a smiling 
face, has just come in. Big brown mus- 
tache " 

" That's Brennan — king of the Third House." 

They all crowded around Brennan, calling 
jocularly : 

"Hello, Tom ! Now, what?" 

" Take a bracer. Tom." 

" Say, d' ye know what Tuttle's scheme is ? " 

" No, what is it ?" 

" He's got a joint committee appointed to 
investigate Consolidated doings this winter. ' 

"Oh, is that all?" said Brennan carelessly. 
"No, I won't take anything." He moved away 
from the bar and out of hearing. 

Tuttle's face took on a resolute look. 

"You see how confident he is? They are 
organized. Every available point is defended. 
My only hope is to find a man within to unbar 
the gate." 

Radbourn looked at his watch. " I wish I 
could stay and help )'ou, but I can't. 1 must 



'j[ illnnbcr of tl)c <illjirb Cjousc. 73 

be oretting- to my train. I shall read the papers 
carefully to see how you come out." 

" I wish you could go down to the country 
with me, but if you must go" 

"Must — so g"ood-by." He reached out his 
strong- hand, aad Tuttle took it, looking up into 
the stern, rug-g^ed face. " Keep pushing. Did 
you ever try to start a freight car ? You put 
your shoulder to it and strain every muscle 
to its best — it seems like a rock — but wait! 
Hold your place — slowly, imperceptibly, it be- 
gins to move. Make your own moral. Good- 
by." Radbourn rushed away with a wave of 
the hand. 

Tuttle passed out into the street and down 
toward the steamer. It was getting cooler, and 
the tide of suburban life was setting toward the 
depots and boats. The memory of Radbourn's 
hand was in his. " If I only had his help," he 
thought,, as the magnitude of his struggle came 
before him. 

He felt he could stand ridicule, but to fail now 
was to fail for twenty-five years. If the Consoli- 
dated got its charter, it might stop all legislation 
in the interest of the public. 

It was a strange and beautiful experience to go 
from the hot air of the city, shaken with the jar- 
i-ing war and thunder of trade, down toward the 



74 ^ iltcmber of tl)£ ^Ijirb ^ansc. 

water-smell, where the boats came in to lap the 
mossy fringe of wharves. The moment his face 
felt the wind and his eye caught a glimpse of the 
yellow-green water, Tuttle's forehead smoothed 
out and he gave a sigh of relief. His care was 
gone. 



Chapter VI. 

A GAME OF TENNIS. 

T^HE unusual heat of June had driven the 
^ leisurely classes to "Waterside" earlier 
than usual, and already the most of the cot- 
tag^es were opened, and the women and chil- 
dren settled for the summer. The restless 
fathers and husbands, however, simply came 
and went from the city, where the crush of 
business knew no heat or cold. 

Men like Davis came down to supper — 
occasionally — more often came at eig-ht or 
nine to sleep at home and eat breakfast, 
where they could look out upon the water; 
but their capacity for rest was lost. They 
could not throw off the business habit, and 
they returned to business on the eig"ht o'clock 
boat, reading- the stock markets, with no time 
to see the cool and restful face of nature. 

Brennan was still young, and had not lost 
the power to throw aside his cynicism and 
his plans for control of men and money. He 
gave himself up occasionally to the enjoyment 



76 Q[ illcmbcr of tijc (Jl)irb i)omt. 

of the sea and the flowers and Helene's 
coquetry. On these trips he g-rew light-hearted 
almost as a boy. 

He had rooms at the hotel nearest Mr. 
Davis' cottage, and he was already on the 
most intimate terms — apparently — with every- 
body, from the elevator boy to the lonely old 
widow-woman whom everybody avoided be- 
cause of her stories of aches and pains and 
whining recounts of deaths and funerals. 

On these trips Brennan threw business lit- 
erally to the winds. He sang, labored at the 
banjo, took part in every dance, helped the 
children mend their toys, and won, without 
conscious effort, the good will of them all. 

Waterside was an old town, with quaint, wind- 
ing, low-lying streets close to the water, where 
the floods sometimes came. It still retains many 
square-topped verandaed mansion-houses on 
the higher streets. Along the immediate water- 
front the ancient fisher-cabins had been cleared 
away, and quaint cottages had taken their place. 

Davis had built his house on the shore near 
Senator Ward, and his family had spent their 
summers for many years in an old house that 
belonged to his wife's father, and here had sprung 
up the friendship of Helene and Evelyn. Wilson 
Tuttle and his aged mother had taken a cottage 



;2l ilUmbcr of tijc Sljirb flousc. 77 

on the opposite side of the street, because he 
wished to be near Helene, though his mother 
aided him to conceal this by a careful statement 
of how much she had desired the sea-air at the 
point. 

When Brennan left his hotel and walked 
across the road he had a tennis racquet in his 
hand. A gay sash about his lithe and powerful 
young body, a jaunty tennis hat and loosely 
knotted tie finished a transformation. He was 
facile as an actor. He seemed to change his 
nature with his dress. As he walked he sang 
under his breath. He was something more than 
handsome : there was character in his strone, 
straight nose, in his resolute yet merry brown 
eyes, and, as he met Helene, her eyes fell, and a 
quick flush on her cheek gave him instant exulta- 
tion. 

There was quite a group on the lawn lying 
between Senator Ward's house and the Davis 
cottage. 

"Oh, Mr. Brennan," pouted Helene, "you're 
late." 

"Sorry. Couldn't help it. Business, you 
know ; but I'm ready to make up for it. 
Come," he said, taking possession of Helene, 
"we're partners. Who takes the opposite?" 



78 ^ iUcmbcr of tl]c (J;ijlrb ^ousc. 

" Evelyn and Mr. Tuttle — if he'll play," said 
Evelyn. 

"I'll try," Tuttle replied, "but I'm not 
very" 

"Oh, you'll improve with age," Tom laughed, 
as he leaped the net. 

Tuttle was in tennis suit also, but without 
the sash and flowing tie. He wore his glasses 
with the bows behind his ears. His slender 
frame was active enough, but awkward. Other 
young people were seated about on benches 
under the trees. Here and there a banjo 
tinkled, and boats out on the bay were moving 
slowly in the light wind, the red sunlight 
glinting on the sails Laughter and song came 
from every side — a magical time and place. 

It was all deliciously far away from the hotel 
lobby and the Third House, and Brennan gave 
himself up to it with that facile adaptation which 
made him a mystery and a spur to Tuttle. He 
played tennis as he did everything — with ease 
and careless adroitness. The only thing that 
distracted him was Helene, who looked . de- 
liciously, inhumanly tempting in her easy flan- 
nels, her little blue cap pulled rakishly (and, 
perhaps, designedly) over one ear. Evelyn wore 
her cap straight, square as a policeman's helmet. 

Tuttle, with that perversity which really fine 



Qi iUcmbcr of tl)c (Jl)irb l^ouec. 79 

minds are often guilty of, struggled to match 
Brennan on this field, while Helene laughed 
merrily at his failures, and Evelyn smiled when 
he tried to half-volley and nearly broke his rac- 
quet by hitting the ground. He felt unconsci- 
ously that his knowledge of literature and lan- 
guages didn't count with that laughing, flushed 
and careless little creature over the net. 

At last Brennan shouldered his racquet and 
spoke alone to Helene. "I don't believe I can 
play any more. Let's go and sit down here, 
and give the rest a chance. I want to talk to 
you." 

Helene knew what was coming, but she was 
fascinated with the idea of listening to his plea. 
Her natural coquetry made her quite uncertain 
whether she loved him or Wilson best. He 
was so handsome in his tennis suit. Wilson 
was surrounded by the other players ; it would 
not do any harm anyhow. 

"Come," insisted Brennan. "I haven't had a 
chance to talk with you for a week." 

Helene hesitated a little, looking toward the 
house. " I ought to go and sit with poppa. He 
looks awfully lonesome sitting over there. He 
seems worried lately about something. Do you 
know what ?" 

" Oh, it may be this railway business. Noth- 



80 ^ illcmbcr of tijc (^l)irb tjousc. 

ing you need worry about, though. We'll at- 
tend to it," 

Helene leaned her hand on the end of her 
racquet and her chin on her hand, looking 
dreamily over the bay. " Isn't the bay just per- 
fectly lovely, with the setting sun lighting its 
face ? " 

" It does very well for a — sea-face, but I know 
a girl-face that's lovelier." 

Helene looked up at him roguishly without 
liftinof her chin from her hand. " Does it hurt 
you to say those things ? " 

" Not much, no. Why ? " 

" I'd be concerned about you if it did ; you 
say so many of them lately. Is it blarney you're 
talking ? " she said, with an attempt at his 
dialect. 

" It is not," Brennan replied, smiling down 
into her face. Somebody had fired the ball over 
the back net and Tuttle came running on after it. 
When he reached it he started to pick it up with 
his hands, and Brennan called sharply, " Hi, hi ! 
Against the rules ! " 

Tuttle blushed guiltily. " Excuse me ; didn't 
know you were watching." He then tried to 
pick the ball up with his racquet and failed, 
much to their amusement. 

" Good fellow ! " cried Helene, clapping her 



Q{ illcmbcr of tl)c (^Ijirb tjousc. 8i 

hands, when he succeeded. As he ran after the 
ball, she looked after him meditatively. " How 
well Mr. Tuttle looks in a tennis suit, and I think 
he plays very well for one who is near-sighted. 
Don't you.-^" 

"Well, never having been near-sighted my- 
self, I can't say. I wish he'd give his whole 
time to tennis. He'd play better, and it would 
suit us just as well." 

Helene opened her eyes wide, in a childish 
stare. " Now, why do you say that."* I thought 
you liked each other. Thought you were chums 
at college, and all that." 

" So we were, but ha ! " he went on melodra- 
matically. "Why did he cross me path ? Why 
does he steal before me and wrest the treasure 
from me hands ? Let him beware ! " 

Helene pretended to shudder. " Oh, you 
make me shiver. You sound exactly like the 
villain in the English melodrama." 

"Thanks! That's what I meant to sound 
like. Oh, I ca?i. play the villain, but I wish my 
role of lover pleased you better, Helene," he 
added, soberly. 

Helene rose in pretended haiiteur. 

"Mr. Brennan, what do you — how dare 
you?" 

Brennan clapped his hands and laughed. 



82 3. iUembcr of tl)c ^Ijiri) f)ouse. 

"Capital! Nobody could do it more to the 
life." 

" I don't follow you, sir," she said, severely. 

''Ingenue ! They invariably call the lover 
'Mister,' and ask what he means, when he finally 
says what they've tried to drag out of him for 
three whole acts." 

Helene laughed in spite of herself. " Oh, it's 
a rehearsal, then ! " 

"No, it's a proposal, Helene." There was 
a sincerity in his voice that made her eyes waver 
and a flush rise to her cheeks. " Your father 
and I have come to an understanding. Now, 
what's your verdict, Helene ? Can't you look at 
me ? " 

Brennan will always believe that young Pierce 
threw the ball over the net on purpose to send 
Tuttle after it, calling, " Hey, Brennan ! Toss 
that ball down this way, will you, please ? " At 
any rate, he picked up the ball and flung it back 
to Tuttle, who tried to catch it on his racquet, 
and, failing, paused to look at Helene, who was 
nervously twirling her racquet on the toe of her 
shoe. 

" I wish you hadn't said that to me, Tom. I 
do," she added, as he came back. 

" Why ? " he said, sitting beside her again. 

" Because I can't answer it as you'd like me 



;3. iUcmbcr of tlje (Eljiri) €)aust, 83 

to. I like you, Tom, but I haven't thought of 
.marrying anybody, hardly — yet." 

" Not yet ? I'm glad of that. Please, promise 
to begin on me. 'Tis all I ask." 

"Oh, I can't, Tom. I don't like you well 
enough for that. What did you go spoil all our 
good times for ? " she cried out, pettishly, to 
conceal her tears. "Why couldn't you keep 
quiet ? Now, I won't dare to be alone with you 
an instant for fear you'll be saying" 

" Sorry ! Won't do it again, but couldn't hold 
in any longer. Stood it just as long as I could. 
What with the sun on your hair, mavourneen, 
and the dress, and the cap, and the little shoon, 
acushla ! " 

" Tom Brennan, you're crazy." 

" Wid love! So I am." Then he added, 
seriously : " I wouldn't say this to you, before 
because I hadn't got to the place where I could 
feel strong enough and successful enough. But 
now, you know, I'm the Iron Duke's lieuten- 
ant." 

" Yes, I know. Poppa thinks a great deal of 
you. He was saying so last night. And so do 
I, Tom — only not enough to promise anything 
like what " 

"All right," said Brennan, cheerily. " Take 
your own time. I can wait. " 



8i ^ iUcmbcr of tl)c iEI)iri) Cjouee. 

"You mean you'll have to," laughed Helene. 

" I do. I make a verrtue of necessity. That's 
the way I cover me defeats. Where to, now, 
please ? " he asked, as Helene rose. 

" I'm going- to see poppa. Will you come ? " 

"Will I?' I will. But hold on, you've for- 
gotten something — one important thing." 

"What is it ?" 

"You've forgotten the usual promise." 

" Promise ? " 

"Yes," said Brennan, audaciously. "To be 
a sister to me." And then they both laughed 
so heartily that a row of heads appeared above 
the tennis net in eager curiosity. 

" I'll do it now." 

" I guess not." 

" Why not ? " 

" Because you may want to change your mind." 
He saw the heads, made a gesture at them, and 
they disappeared. As Helene started to walk 
away, Tuttle came hastily across the ground. 

"Are you going in?" he asked, an earnest, 
almost pleading look in his eyes. " I'd like 
to speak with you." 

Helene gave Brennan her racquet. "Take 
this in, Tom. I'll be along soon." 

As Helene turned to speak to Tuttle, the sing- 
ings of the young people on the water swelled out 



'2. illcmbcr of tl)c (Jl)irb Cjousc. 85 

to a beautiful chorus, made marvelously sweet by 
distance. Standing there in the hush and color 
and growing coolness of the evening, looking 
upon the dainty and beautiful girl, her little cap 
pushed back from her halo of hair, her face 
flushed, her eyes soft with some vague passion, 
Wilson felt the common oround chang-e to the 
velvet, sun-shot sward of some immemorial 
romance. 

Helene spoke first — of the music, " Isn't it 
lovely ? Life is so beautiful sometimes it almost 
makes me sad. Do you ever feel like that ? " 

" Yes, sometimes. That arises from the con- 
trast of what life might be with what it is." The 
singers sang on the chorus again, and neither 
spoke till it died away. Then Helene sighed, 
andTuttle spoke slowly, softly: " In the presence 
of beauty, beneath the stars, man's thoughts turn 
to love." 

" Whom are you quoting ? " she asked, archly, 
in self-defense. 

"Jean Paul." Then he turned and spoke 
gravely, but bluntly: "I saw Brennan talking 
with you, and he acted like a lover. Was he ? 
I saw you give him your hand. Have you 
given him your heart too ? " 

" I don't think you have any right to ask such 
questions," Helene said, rather stiffly. 



86 ^ illcmbcr of tl)c (Eljirb f)ousc. 

" If you're not a coquette, I have a perfect 
right. You've g-iven me that right. If not in 
words, certainly in actions." 

" I have ? " she asked, incredulously. 

" You have, Helene." 

She arched her eyebrows. " Where ? When ?" 

Tuttle smiled a little. " You really don't 
mean to ask me to specify, do you ? " 

" Oh, good gracious, no ! " she replied, color- 
ing a little. " What did I mean by saying such 
things." 

"What do you mean by such intimacy with 
Tom Brennan ? That's what I'm waiting to 
hear. After our year of — of something more 
than friendship, are you going to" 

Helene was pouting, nearly crying. " I don't 
care," she said, helplessly. " He's nice, and I 
really never promised you, and he don't scold 
me. 

" Is it scolding to ask you to be honest ? No, 
you never promised me anything. But I'm 
afraid you're something I hate in a woman — a 
trifler. You make me afraid of it against my 
will." Helene no longer tried to look at him. 
"And I know Tom Brennan is a hypocrite and a 
scoundrel." 

"Mr. Tuttle, how dare you say such a thing 



01 ilTcmbcr of tl)c tijirb fynst. 87 

to me, and about my father's secretary ? It's 
OLitragi^eous in you." 

" I dare because it's the truth, and I know it; 
and because I want you to know it, and because 
I don't want you to waste yourself on such a 
conscienceless " 

" How kind you are and how modest ! " inter- 
rupted Helene, scornfully. 

" I know what you mean. I am a better man 
than Brennan. If I wasn't, by heaven, Td go 
hang- ! He has no conscience at all. He's a 
type of the modern business man, whose ideas of 
right and wrong are atrophied for lack of use. 
I can't stand by and see you caught by that 
man's reckless and insinuating grace. I mtis^ 
say what I think, even at the risk of offending 
you. I warn you " 

Helene was moved by his frankness and sin- 
cerity, but disowned it. "Many thanks! But 
do you suppose my father would keep such a 
man it 

" No, I don't, I admire and respect the Iron 
Duke too much to believe that, and I firmly be- 
lieve Brennan is using him, and Fox is even a 
worse type. He's involving them in a crime 
that will ruin you all." 

" Why, Tom is only a boy," exclaimed Helene, 



$$ '^ ittcinber of tl)c (ill)u-li fjousc. 

trying to laugh. "He cant — why. he's too 
jolly to be bad. It's too absurd." 

"You see only one side of him — his social 
side. He can be — terrible. I grant you he's 
brilliant everywhere, but if you could see him as 
I see him, with men, in the fumes of whisky 
and tobacco, in his character as king of the 
lobby, he'd scare you. To be a leader in the 
Third House requires cunning and good humor, 
as well as power." He turned and threw out 
one hand in an impulsive gesture of appeal. 
" Don't throw me over, Helene, for a man like 
Brennan, just because I can't grin and flatter 
you and spend my time dancing about" 

She sprang up. " I won't stay to be lectured.'' 

Tuttle stopped her with a gesture and a word. 
" Wait." When he spoke after a pause, it was 
in a tone of deep sadness. '" I see now that you 
/lave trifled with me. I've lost you, but I can 
talk plainer now. Tom Brennan loves you; I 
give him credit for taste and sincerity there" 

She smiled and bowed cuttingly. "Thank 
you. 

" But I tell you he'd ruin your father without 
a pang if necessary to gain power for himself. 
How faithful such a man can be to a woman — 
Wait ! " he said, stopping her again. " Don't go 
away. I'll go. Now, I've said all I'm going to. 



^ illcmbcr of tl)c (^l)irb C)onsc. so 

Only, for heaven's sake, believe in my sincer- 
ity ! " His voice broke a little, his deep brown 
eyes looked into hers with the purity and strength 
of a man who is sure of his ground. " Don't 
draw away from me entirely. Try to act just as 
if I'd never said a word. It's childish to quarrel 
and pass by without speaking. Don't subject 
me to that." 

Helene sank into the settee and covered her 
face with her hands. " It's horrible in you, that's 
what it is. Just horrible ! You've spoiled our 
whole evening ! I'll never forgive you ! " 

Evelyn came forward slowly from the other 
side of the ground and did not perceive Helene 
on the settee until she had reached Tuttle's side. 
Then a look of surprise and alarm came into 
her face. "Oh," she said, with a motion to re- 
treat. "I hope I'm not — I thought you were 
alone, Mr. Tuttle. I didn't see you, Helene." 

"Oh, never mind! Don't go — I'm just 
going." 

There was an awkward pause, and then he 
spoke in a pitiful attempt to use his ordinary 
tone. " I brought a new song up from town. 
Shall we try it ? Do you care to have me bring 
It over : 

"Of course I do," Helene replied, tearfully,, 
without looking up. 



90 ^ illcinbcr of tl)c Qi\]\v\} tlousr. 

" Very well, I'll go get it now." 

Evelyn looked after him a moment, then took 
a seat beside Helene. " What's the matter, 
dear ? Have you had a quarrel ? Tell me all 
about it." 

"Worse than that," replied Helene, giving 
way at the first touch of sympathy. " He's been 
sc-scolding me, and — and — talking mean about 
— lom. 

"Talking about Tom ? What for.'* How?" 

"Talking horribly, calling him a villain, and 
tellinor me that I — flirted." 

"Oh, I see. Well, he must be jealous. You 
mustn't mind that. That's natural, and it really 
did look like a courtship from our point of 
view." 

" I don't see what's the matter. It ain't a bit 
like him. He's always been so grave and kind, 
and that's what I liked, and now he talks like — 
like an — I d'know what." 

"Good gracious! As bad as that? Well, 
now, you mustn't mind this little explosion. He 
loves you dearly, and he's — he's a splendid man, 
and I'm sure he's perfectly sincere, and loves you 

vcr) very dearly." Someway it was not easy 

to speak words of comfort. 

"So — so does Tom." Evelyn looked at her 
sharply. 



2. ilTfinbcr of tl)c iB^ljirli £)o\xsc. 91 

" How do you know ? " 

"He told me so to-day." She rose with an- 
other sudden impulse of anger. " I hate to be 
lectured, and he's always lecturing me. I won't 
stand it." The voice of Davis came loudly to 
their ears, and Helene said hastily : " Come in, 
I don't want to see poppa now." As they went 
off around the corner of the house, Davis and 
Fox came out on the lawn, bringing chairs in 
their hands. Davis had a bundle of newspapers. 
He seemed in bad humor, and his voice was 
aggressive. 

" Oh, these newspapers ! Never mind 'em." 

" I tell you, these little newspapers do us 
harm. They manufacture public sentiment." 

" But we can't get the earth on our side," 
returned Fox as he took his seat and looked 
out on the water. 

"We must try. They must be fixed as well 
as the big dailies. Take them in the aggregate, 
they're a power." 

Fox rolled over on one hip and looked at him 
with a grin. " Did you notice a change in the 
editorials of the Evening Planet ? " 

"I did. Rather singular, ain't it?" 

"Very," repHed Fox, with a dry cough. " I'm 
quite at a loss to understand it." 

"As for Tuttle and his damned committee, I'm 



92 ^ illcmbcr of tl)c (J;l)irb fjouse. 

going to have an understanding with him to- 
night, right now." 

"Don't do it, Lawrence. He's a dangerous 
man. Better let me " 

"Will you let me manage a few of my 
affairs?" Davis turned on him angrily. "I'm 
not a boy." 

Fox rose with more of anger than he had 
ever shown. His apparently inexhaustible pa- 
tience was giving way. "Very well. I've got 
no more to say. I distinctly warn you that 
things are at a critical point." 

" Oh, come now, sit down," said Davis, in a 
gentler tone. "I didn't mean to — Come, sit 
down ! Haven't I taken your advice all along?" 

"Yes, but lately somehow — I've always ad- 
mired your coolness, Lawrence, but somehow 
you've lost control of yourself lately. Fact is, 
you're nervous ; and, to be honest about it, I'm 
afraid you'll do us all harm in one of these tem- 
pers. You haven't put this thing through with 
your usual adroitness, to be frank," 

Davis bowed his head in thought. " You're 
right, Fox. I'm losing my hold on myself That 
row with Brennan showed me that. I'm getting 
irritable. If I get out o' this," he said with a, 
certain pathetic resolution, "it ends it with mc. 
I'll never go into another such fight. I can't 



:2l illcmbcr of tl)c (Eljirii iTjousc. 93 

stand it. I'm getting old, and, well, I'm — I'm 
losing my sleep over these things. If I get out 
o' this hole, I'll take Helene and go to Europe." 

He looked almost pitiful as he sat thus, his 
eyes full of a somber shadow. 

Tuttle, coming by, brought him back to his 
usual self. 

"Good evening, gentlemen," he said, about 
to pass. 

Davis extended a newspaper. " V/ell, sir, 
what's all this row you've raised in the House 
against me ? " 

" I've raised no row against you, Mr. Davis, 
that I'm aware of," Tuttle replied, facing him. 

"Bosh! I mean against the Consolidated. 
What are you trying to do, anyway ? " 

" Very well, sir, let it stand so," replied Tuttle, 
quietly. " I'm simply after the truth about the 
matter; that's all. I'm very sorry to bring 
even temporary reproach" 

Davis unfolded the paper, and pointed at the 
first page. " I'd like to know just what you said. 
Are you correctly reported ? What have you 
. said to raise all these headlines ? " 

" I said," replied Tuttle, rather formally, "that 
so much evidence had been brought to me that 
smirched the reputation of the legislators as to 
establish in my mind a belief that the Consoli- 



94 ^ iUembcr of tl)c (Jl)irb €)onst. 

dated Air Line, in its eagerness to secure the 
charter, had resorted to the use of money 
through both houses ; that, the names of these 
senators having been handed to me" 

" It's a he, every word of it ! " 

"That will be seen, sir, for a joint investigat- 
ing committee has been formed to protect the 
honor of the legislators, and I have become per- 
sonally responsible for the charges of corruption 
I have made, and I assure you I shall sift the 
whole matter to the last grain of evidence." He 
ended with a certain grim resolution. 

"Sift away!" said Davis, contemptuously. 
"You'll find nothing. Not one cent has ever 
been paid by me to any member of the senate 
or the lower house." 

" I believe that, Mr. Davis," said Tuttle, with 
frank eagerness. ^'And I want to see it proved, 
for the sake of your daughter — for my own 
peace of mind, I want to prove that." 

" What do you mean by that ? " 

" I mean, sir," he replied, dropping into the 
orator's formal tone again, " that your honor, as 
the father of Helene and as my friend, is as dear 
to me as my own. I made those charges and 
welcomed that committee, because I felt that 
you were not connected directly with this busi- 
ness, and because I knew your good name 



^ ilkmbci- of tl)c (Sljiri) ijousc. 95 

would stand all the better because of the test. 
It's a bath of flame, sir, but the honor of our 
senate demands it." 

Davis was much moved, and he stood look- 
ing- down at the grass, while Fox paced slowly 
up and down behind them. 

"It's a bath of flame, my boy," he said, with 
a sigh. 

Fox struck in. "A bath, young man, we busi- 
ness men can't afTord. It takes the skin off." 

Davis put his hand on Tuttle's shoulder. His 
voice was a little unsteady, "Wilson, I've had 
my eye on you ever since you left college. I've 
been pleased at your success. Of course, I've 
laughed at you as the scholar in politics ; but, all 
the same, I've admired your grit and honesty. 
But you don't understand the pressure that 
comes on a man like me. A man can't always 
just do as he wants to. I ain't quite ready to 
give Helene away yet. But I'll say right now, 
I don't know a young man I'd trust her to 
quicker — that is, if" 

"Thank you ! I appreciate your praise. I've 
tried to serve" 

" But this investigation is bad business. Hush 
it up as soon as you can. It may hurt us. It 
can't help but hurt us." 

"In what way, Mr. Davis?" 



96 ^ Ulcmbcr of i\]c ©Ijirb fioust: 

"Lose us the charter. The people are ready 
and anxious to convict somebody of corruption. 
Monopoly and corporations are red rags to 'm, 
even when they're beingr served by the monop- 
olies. Now, this investigation, Wilson, will do 
us harm. You should have fought it down." 

" If the Consolidated is what you claim, the 
investigation will vindicate it. "It must go on." 

Davis was a little angered at his tone. " But 
it must not go on." 

" It will go on. It can't be stopped, /can't 
stop it." The sun had left the grass ; the men's 
faces were getting gray in the dusk. Davis 
stood in shadow. 

"But you must. You must withdraw your 
charges." 

" I didn't make the charges. I simply stated 
them, sir, as they came to me, and demanded 
their refutation for the honor of my colleagues, 
and for your honor." 

Fox struck in in a slow, irritated tone. " You're 
so damned infernally solicitous about your honor, 
Tuttle. As if you didn't know" 

"•You'll ruin us, that's what you'll do," said 
Davis, in rising anger. " Ruin us with your in- 
vestigation ! " 

" If the light of day, sir, will ruin you, " replied 
Tuttle, mounting his oratorical hobby, " very 



^ illcmber of tl)c (ill)irb j^ouse. 97 

well. Let it. We can't allow in this republic 
any corporation, no matter how good its inten- 
tions, to dominate legislation or shelter itself 
under the cloak of bribery." 

" Do you charge me with bribery?" demanded 
Davis. 

" I tell you, sir, I make no charges. It is 
whispered in my ears by men of character that 
the Consolidated has absolute control of all rail- 
way legislation. I want our Capitol purged of 
its Third House, and its honor vindicated. And, 
by heaven, it shall be done at any sacrifice ! " 

Davis raised his voice in terrible wrath. ''By 
God, you sha'n't sacrifice me, sir ! Go ahead 
with your twopenny investigation, and when 
your re-election time comes, you'll feel my hand. 
I want you to understand you can't ride me 
down. Now, go on ! Try it ! Do your worst!" 

Helene, who had heard their loud voices 
from the piazza, came running up. "Why, 
father, how excited you are! Wilson, you're 
not quarreling with him?" 

Wilson disregarded her. " No clean man will 
suffer if this investigation goes on. And \t shall 
go on, or I'll resign my office. The scholar, 
sir, may be a fool, but he's going to stand for 
principle. Good heavens ! The atmosphere of 
our legislative halls appalls me, Principle.'^ are 



98 Q{ ilTcmbcr of tl)e ©Ijirb C)ou0c. 

to be laughed at or aired only in spread-eagle 
speeches. I swear, sometimes I feel as if noth- 
ing but some cataclysm of nature would be 
powerful enough to cleanse our political dens, 
reeking with moral slime" 

"Listen to me, young man," interrupted Davis 
in deadly earnest. " You'll withdraw your charges 
to-morrow." 

" I will no^," replied Tuttle, with inexorable 
resolution. The men faced each other with set 
teeth, and at last Davis said : 

"I'll fight this thing till I die or win." 

Helene, awed and frightened, interrupted : 
" What does it all mean ? What has happened ? 
Father, can't you tell me ?" 

Davis put her aside, harshly. "Go away; 
you can't understand it. This is a man's affair. 
Yes, you can understand it," he said, with a 
sudden ignoble thought, " Your young man, 
there, calls me a briber, and threatens me with 
arrest." Helene gave a little cry of dismay. 
Tuttle made no sign, but stood looking straight 
at Davis, who went on : 

" He has brought charges against me. He'd 
send me to State prison if he could." 

"Oh, no! Vozi. wouldn't do that! It can't 
be true ! " She appealed to Wilson. 



3. illnnbcr of tl)c ®l)irb ^ouae. 99 

" It is true, ,and he can't deny it," insisted 
Davis. 

" Is it true, Wilson ? " she insisted. 

Tuttle's white wrath still kept its flame. " I 
say again I've brought charges against the Con- 
solidated Road. Tell her, sir, why you shrink." 

" If I do, she'll turn on you." 

" No, she won't. And if she does, no matter. 
I say again, you're being drawn into a terrible 
vortex by wily and unscrupulous men, Mr. 
Davis. Get rid of that man," he said, indicating 
Fox. " Get rid of Brennan. Ship the whole 
business of the Third House. Ship Brennan, 
above all." 

"I won't do that — I can't." 

" Can't ? The Iron Duke can't ? " 

" Damn it ! What do you follow me up for } 
I say I won't and I can't. I must succeed in 
this to hold what I've got." 

There was a pause, while Tuttle considered 
the meaning of this. When he spoke again it 
was in a tone that decided everything. His 
words came out slowly ; his voice was low and 
tense with passion. 

"Now I say, irrevocably, the investigation 
must go on, and I will testify." 

Helene looked from one to the other in dis- 
may and bewilderment. Brennan appeared on 



100 ^ illcmbcr of tl)c ^l)iriJ Cjousc. 

the other side of the shrubs, Hstening to the 
conversation. 

"You won't testify against father and Tom," 
said Helene. 

"Against the ConsoHdated Road," reiterated 
Tuttle. 

"/'/;/ the Consohdated Road," said Davis, 

"Very well, sir; against you, then." 

" Then you're a fool," struck in Brennan, 
" and you'll have your folly for your pains." He 
threw away his cigar, and stepped with studied 
effect to the side of Davis. "As for me, I stand 
or fall with the Iron Duke." 

"Do you hear what he says?" Helene asked 
Tuttle. 

" Good heavens, Helene ! Can't you see he's 
the very man proceeded against — the head and 
front of it all ? Don't you see why he " 

" I know he stands by my father ; that's what 
I know," replied Helene, obstinately blind, "and 
I know yon are against us." 

"And so you distrust me, too.-*" said Tuttle, 
despairingly. " Distrust me for being honest, 
and believe in him when he makes a theatrical, 
shameless bid" 

"I do," replied Helene, moving a little nearer 
h(*r father and Brennan. 

After a silence Tuttle mastered himself, and 



^2, illcmbcr of tl)c ®l)iri) Cjousc. loi 

raised his head in a lofty gesture. "Very well. 
This infamous attack on the senate shall be ex- 
posed and the whole matter investigated, no 
matter who suffers. Good night." 

As he turned and walked slowly away in the 
yellow dusk, Helene put her arms about her 
father's neck. 

Fox took Brennan one side. " Pretty well 
done, Brennan." 

" Wasn't it ? Saw my chance for a cot^p de 
theatre y 

In the silence the far-away chorus was heard 
again, and the party of tennis-players marched 
off the lawn, laughing and singing. 

In his exaltation Brennan took Fox's arm, and 
they went away together to the hotel. 



Chapter VII. 

SENATOR WARD AT HOME. 

CENATOR WARD was country-born, and 
^ he retained a certain homely simpHcity of 
accent, almost dialect, in his private speech, and 
a timidity of manner which at times betrayed him. 
He was a New England Scotch type, tall, spare, 
with a long- beard, thin nose and deep, beautiful 
gray eyes. He wore his Prince Albert coat 
with dignity and kept the respect of those who 
knew him, in spite of his one terrible weakness. 
Like thousands of others, he was an example of 
the inexorable law of heredity. 

In the good old days of " rum and barn-rais- 
in's," his father, a carpenter, had been a man 
of whom every one said : 

" Ben Ward is a good man, but a terrible 
drinker." 

He was more than a good fellow — he was a 
thoughtful man, and he had bequeathed to his 
son a blessing, as well as a curse — the gift of 
oratory and a mind that, in its best moments, 
soon carried Rufus Ward to a very important 



3. fncmbcr of tlic ^Ifirt f)onsc. 103 

position in the business and local politics of his 
adoptive country. 

But it was through his forced fraternizing with 
party politicians in offices and ward headquar- 
ters, reeking with liquor, that his inborn, latent ap- 
petite came to master him. The "boys" laughed 
at it, and said it "didn't matter," but they soon 
saw they had a weapon to use against him when 
he denounced some disgraceful deed of theirs. 
This added to his natural timidity. 

As a business man he was irreproachable, and 
no one had ever charged anything worse than 
weakness against him. His wife, of New 
England descent, was an uneducated woman, but 
of great natural ability, and in Schoharie she 
was considered a worthy wife to the Senator, 
though at Waterside her plain speech and dem- 
ocratic manners provoked comment. She looked 
matronly, and had at the same time something 
masculine about her — wholesome and kind. 

When the Senator came home that afternoon 
from his interview with Brennan, she received 
him as if his clouded eyes, purpled face and pal- 
sied lees were due to the excessive heat. She 
took him hurriedly to his room and silently 
bathed his face and hands, helped him off with 
his coat and shoes, and left him lying down ready 
to sleep. 



loj 3 illcmbcr of tl]c (Jl)irb f)ousc. 

" Has father come^ ? " asked Evelyn, as Mrs. 
Ward closed the door behind her and came into 
the hall. 

'■ Yes — he's come." 

There were no tears in her e3'es and no 
tremor in her voice. Only a patient, weary tone. 
She had got beyond tears or wailing-. She ac- 
cepted it as a necessity to be calmly met. 

Evelyn sig-hed, put her arm about her mother's 
neck, and laid her face on her shoulder. She 
understood perfectly — no need of any further 
words. 

" Poor mamma ! Well ! We must go down 
to dinner." 

They didn't talk much. They never did on 
such nights. Evelyn sat with brooding eyes, 
her forehead full of knots. She had beautiful 
eyes — like her father's — sad now, as she listened 
to the sounds of merry life outside. They were 
playing tennis out there — lithe girls in gray 
flannels, slender youths in sashes and 'jaunty 
caps. The bay was flecked with sails, and from 
boats floating sleepily on the rose and blue of 
the water came the sound of young voices singing, 
and under it all, and back of it all, the soft, pulsing 
swash and snarl of the waves on the beach. 
They sat apart from it all — alienated from it by 
their trouble. 



"^ ittcmbcr of tl)c ^\]\v^ ^onsc. 105 

"Well," said Mrs. Ward at last, when the 
waiter was out of the room, " I hope they'll 
adjourn up there at the Capitol pretty soon ; 
then father can be with us." 

" I guess they will. Here it is first week in 
June. They can't go on much longer." Then 
they fell into silence. 

" Good evening," said a familiar voice at the 
window. 

" Oh, Mr. Tuttle ; come in, won't you ?" cried 
Evelyn, her face lighting up with a beautiful 
smile, which faded as he replied : 

"Thank you. Is the Senator in ?" 

"Yes — but he isn't very well. Unless it is 
something very important, I'd rather not" 

"Oh, no! I'll wait till to-morrow. Don't 
disturb him." There was a quick interchange of 
glances, and Tuttle knew the truth, and Evelyn 
knew that he knew it. 

" Let's take a walk. I'm a dismal failure at 
tennis," he said, after a pause. 

"Very well — unless you need me, mother?" 
This question meant to Mrs. Ward: "unless 
father needs us both to take care of him." 

" Oh, no — I don't need you, dear. Go along. 
It'll do you good." 

Evelyn knew what this walk meant — that 
she would have an exquisite hour that would 



106 ^ iHembcr of tl)c ^[Ijirb ^anst. 

leave her with a hunger in the heart that would 
not let her sleep — and yet she could not resist. 
She went to her room, to put on an extra ribbon 
or flower. She stood for a moment before the 
oflass, not in bitterness, but in a dumb, indefin- 
able regret that she should be so unattractive. 

They took their way down to the beach, 
where lovers and young wives and nurse-girls 
were promenading on the firm, smooth sand, 
over which the hissing laps of sea ran like 
green, silver-edged tongues. There was a fresh 
sea-wind blowing, salt and sea-weedy. In the 
far offing sun-tinted sails slanted and steamers 
were passing, leaving vast dun banners of smoke 
trailing along the upper air. 

Tuttle was a little abstracted, but as he 
went on, he grew more in earnest. He was a 
man of wide reading and of deep enthusiasm, 
and he carried conversation to the plane of his 
own thought, or silenced his listener by the 
wealth of his diction and the wide reach of his 
perceptions. 

Evelyn talked but little, but she always had 
the effect of bringing the best thoughts of her 
friends to the surface, and Tuttle always talked 
to her as to a comrade. Her replies and sug- 
gestions, brief as they were, showed how thor- 



% ilTcmbcr of tl)c (?ri)irb ^ausc. 107 

oughly she enjoyed him, and how closely she 
followed his thoug^ht. 

When she came home an hour later, she went 
to her room and flung- herself down on the sofa, 
crushing the flowers on her bosom. She could 
remember but little of what he had said — she 
remembered the shining sands, the music, the 
gay young voices and flexile forms, the clutch 
and snarl of the ocean, and, above all, or 
through it all, that grave, sweet man's-voice 
soundinor in her ear. 

She did not deceive herself. She knew he 
was not turning to her from Helene. 

"He likes me — but he loves Helene," was 
the sentence that came over and over into her 
mind, as if she were explaining it all to her 
mother. It was nearly midnight when she arose 
and wearily undressed for sleep. She deter- 
mined never to yield to such temptation again. 

At breakfast the next mornino- Senator Ward 
was pale and silent. Nothing was said to indi- 
cate that it was not the usual breakfast time. 
They greeted him as cheerily as possible, and 
Mrs. Ward placed a strong cup of coffee at his 
plate, which he drank at once. 

" I guess you hadn't better go up to the 
Capitol to-day, Rufus. It's goin' to be warm." 



108 :2l iltcmbcr of tl]c (J:i)irlr ^ousc. 

" Oh, I must go, mother. It's a very impor- 
tant time just now — everybody's tryin' to rush 
bills through, and I niustbe there. I'll be home 
early, though. I'll come home right after the 
session." 

"Well, now, don't worry — an" don't walk 
about them hot streets any more'n you can 
help." 

"No, I'll come right home." 

They moved about him, fixing his necktie and 
brushing his hat. 

" Evy, it don't seem to me you're very well 
this mornin' ? " he said, as he was about to go. 

"Oh, I'm all right, father, just a little lazy; 
that's all. Run along, now, if you're going to 
catch that boat. If you lose that you'll have to 
ride in that hot train. QomQ,skip/" she ended, 
striking her hands together and smiling. 

He stooped and kissed her. " You're my 
blessed little girl. I'll come back early, sure." 

After he had gone, there were few smiles in 
the room. Mrs. Ward worked about the house 
— she couldn't sit still — while Evelyn sewed 
steadily as a seamstress, except once or twice 
she leaned back in her chair and closed her eyes 
wearily. Mrs. Ward saw her thus, but dared not 
speak to her. Once when she saw her leaning 
back thus with shut eyes, she detected a tear 



^ illcmbcr of tl)c (^Ijirb ^ousc. lOO 

slipping down the musing- girl's cheek ! It was 
too much for her to bear, and she rose and went 
out, leaving Evelyn alone. 



Chapter VIII. 

THE SUNDAY PAPERS. 

T^HE Sunday morning papers were filled with 
■'• the investigation — twenty-column short- 
hand reports of the proceedings, while the opin- 
ions of leading men and politicians and editorial 
comments filled pretty nearly the entire news 
department of the issues. But there was notice- 
able a great change in the editorials. On the 
first day or two of the hearing, even the papers 
opposed to Tuttle politically, breathed out a gentle 
defiance toward the "great corporations dominat- 
ing our legislative halls," and had a good word 
for "the courage of the young radical who was 
determined to see just how much there was in 
this boasted power of the Third House." 

It went further, this opposition press, and 
said : "//"such use had been made of the Third 
House fwhich every legislator admitted existed) 
as had been charged, no punishment could be 
too severe for the debauchers of public morals." 

But this righteous indignation grew more and 
more retiring from day to day, and. as Tuttle 
read the Sunday morning papers, he found him- 



!3l illanbcr of tl)c ®l)irii ^omc. iii 

self characterized as a " self-sufficient young ass, 
who, on the mere hearsay evidence of blacklegs 
and heelers, had involved the Senate in a miser- 
able investigation which would place the legis- 
lators as a body under the derision of the Amer- 
ican people." 

His own papers "regretted that he did not 
make himself more certain of his ground before 
entering into such a grave fight with a great 
corporation." They hurled back with scorn the 
imputation that it was partisan in effect, and left 
Tuttle to stand alone as the investigator and 
persecutor of the whole matter "against the ad- 
vice of friends." 

As Tuttle read these shifty, treacherous quali- 
fyings and hedgings, he grew white with wrath. 

" You see," he said, to Hill, one of the faith- 
ful, who was taking breakfast with him, "my 
own papers go back on me. That shows 
the power of money. I don't mean to say that 
these papers were bought outright, but I mean 
that the moment a doubt creeps in, they do the 
safest thing — condemn the man whose friend- 
ship is worth the least to them." 

Hill was disposed to take a gloomy view 
of it. 

"Give it up, Tuttle — no use! The people 
ain't ready to stand by us yet. Throw the 



112 "H illembcr of tl)c (Jl)irb C)ou0t. 

whole damn thing up. IVe can stand it if the 
public can." 

" I won't throw it- up," Tuttle cried, with a 
look of iron resolution on his face. "And I will 
convict." 

" You can't unless you can get some member 
to swear he was approached by" 

"If I could involve Brennan, or Fox — he's 
just the man to squeak when he found himself 
in for it. Then the public" 

"Oh, you'd find the public with you fast 
enough then ! They are terribly alarmed over 
injuries to vested rights, but a man has no 
vested rights the moment he is believed to be 
helpless. My idea is to corral Pat Murnahan — 
or one of the lesser fellows." 

Sunday was a busy day with the members of 
the Third House also. The Hilliard lobby was 
full of men discussing the investigation, and in 
Bpennan's office a council of war was being held. 

Brennan was in his usual mood, but Fox was 
a little nervous, and the Hon. Robert Binney, 
the counsel for their defense, was businesslike. 
He was a short man, with a very bald head. He 
had been told at one time that he looked like 
Ingersoll, and thereafter he wore his face cleanly 
shaven. He was very able and vastly learned 



^ iHcinbcr of tl)c (S^ljirb ^ouae. 113 

in law, but he spoke with a drawhng "York 
State dialect," as the Western people call it, 
that is, a strong nasal, with many elisions. 

"Waal, now, don't tell me too much," he said, 
interrupting- Brennan. "There's such a thing as 
bein' embarrassed with knowledge. You are 
willin' to admit you paid the Third House — I 
understand that. You considered that legiti- 
mate. What they did, you don't know, of 
course." 

"That's the idea," said Brennan. 

"Exactly. Well, naow, jest let me have a 
minute." 

It was an interesting process this, of giving 
the attorney just enough of the truth to let him 
see their weak points, and yet not enough so 
that he could be charged with collusion. A 
long experience had made him an adept in this, 
and his really powerful mind seized the whole 
situation by that subtle "winged logic" which 
had made him one of the most famous lawyers 
of his day. Like thousands of others, he had 
come to take a pride in his power to defeat 
justice. 

"Our plan of action must be like the ground- 
hog — stay in our hole an' let the daug paw 
dirt," he said at length. "Set still an' watch 
em. 



114 ^ illcmbcr of tl)£ ^l)ir^ ^oust. 

" It's slow work," said Brennan. " I dont like 
the idea m)self. Relatively it's all right, but it's 
wearin' on the nerves to sit at the end of a hole 
and listen to the dog pawing." 

"Waal, I guess you'll haf to stand it," said 
Binney as he went out. 

Left alone, the three men talked plainer. 
Davis was plainly very nervous. " I wish the 
whole thing was sunk," he said. 

" Oh, no y' don't," said Fox. " You're a little 
worn, that's all. You'd better run down to the 
beach for the day and get a little rest. Tom 
and I will get hold of the other fellows and fix 
them ready for the testimony. Leave that in 
my hands. Our policy is to admit the payment 
of money to the Third House, pleading that 
circumstances made it necessary." '' 

"And that's true, too," broke in Davis. 

" Of course it's true," echoed "Fox. " Now, 
that's all right. Tom and I will see that our 
front is unbroken. Every witness will be pre- 
pared. Not one of 'em but knows how to take 
care of himself Nothing is easier than to fool 
the poor public." 

While the "poor, feeble-minded fool of a pub- 
lic" was reading its Sunday newspaper or going 
to church with its wife and daughter, the Third 
House was orofanizino;, toilino^, with that zeal 



'Z ilTt'inbcr of tl)£ ®l)irb ^ousc. 115 

which makes any toil a pleasure and a success, 
to perfect their defense. The easy-going, habit- 
mastered public is disorganized, nerveless, 
wordy and with little energy or concert of 
action, but the evil forces of society are always 
organized, always alert, and move as one man. 
It is the exceptional case where they can be 
caught off their guard, or surprised in a mo- 
ment of relaxation. 

Tuttle realized perfectly the position of the 
defense, and, as he sat alone after breakfast, he 
went all over the ground. He set his teeth in 
the resolve to vindicate himself. He deter- 
mined that if he w^as to be held personally 
responsible for the charges which had really 
been made by everybody, he would have the 
honor of proving them true. 

All day he thought upon his line of action — 
tried to discover some mode of attack not abso- 
lutely hopeless. 

A few of his friends dropped in, but they 
could do very little ; in fact, most of them ad- 
vised him to give it up. 

" They'll only make a laughing-stock of you, 
Wilson, and it will do no good. They're going 
to make it a political fight if possible. They're 
going to try to ruin you before your constitu- 
ents." 



116 Qi illembcr of tl)£ ^Ijlri) Cjousc, 

Tuttle was roused. " Let 'em try it. I'll 
fight it to the bitter end. If you'd only stand 
by me. You believe them guilty ? " 

"Yes, no doubt of it." 

"Then why don't you stand by me?" They 
shrugged their shoulders. "If you, and all like 
you, would stand by me," cried Tuttle passion- 
ately, "we could defy the power of the Consoli- 
dated or any other corporation. It's because 
people will not speak out" 

"What's the good of speaking out if you 
can't prove anything. You can't prove any- 
thing unless some fellow turns State's evidence, 
and there's no possibility of that." 

They left Tuttle studying on that problem — 
how to eet evidence that would convict. In the 
afternoon, as he took the boat for Waterside, he 
was still racking his brain upon the problem. 
He had half-formed a wild plan of going to 
Sheehan and attempting to buy his evidence. 
He was willing to sacrifice half of his little 
fortune. Nonsense ! What an idea ! He must 
be going crazy. He tried to throw it off by 
looking out upon the dazzling water, fringed 
with the green hills, which reached into the bay 
like the caress of a lover's hand. But he could 
not escape it. A group of men came by and 
asked him about the trial. Everybody pointed 



'Ti illcmbcr of tl)c (J^ljirb Cjousc. 117 

him out — he thought he heard them laughing 
at him. 

One fellow, a drummer, stayed a moment 
after the rest passed on. 

" Tuttle, why don't y' strike old Senator Ward 
a little harder ?" he said. " I heard the old man 
talkin' pretty loud the other day, and he said 
some pretty damaging things. Of course he 
was drunk, but he don't say such things just 
because he's drunk. Now, I ain't got any par- 
ticular interest in this thing. I don't live here 
anyhow, but damned if I like to see the whole 
town jumpin' on a man's neck, 'specially when 
I m dead sure he's rio-ht." 

"How do you know I'm right?" Tuttle 
asked of the free-spoken drummer. 

" In the nature of things a man who fights one 
o' these monopolies must be right — that's all. 
We're all down on 'em, but we ain^'t got sand to 
fight 'em. If he was approached, the Senator 
might be induced to talk. It's worth trying 
anyway." 

"What kind of a plea could I make to Ward 
that would induce him to criminate himself?" 
replied Tuttle, not without sarcasm. 

" Well, I don't think the old man was actually 
bribed, but I think he was approached, and I 
think he knows of others who were. In other 



118 ^ iltembfr of tl)£ (i[l)irlJ fynst: 

words, he's what I call the- clue-end o' the whole 
snarl. He's y'r man. All you want is to find 
the loose end, and that will lead to the center of 
the thing^. One man will criminate another." 

This made a deep impression upon Tuttle, and 
he rode the rest of the way in deep thought 
along that definite line of action. If he could 
not reach some man like Ward, his case was 
desperate. He determined to see Ward that 
night, and make an appeal to him. 



Chapter IX. 

AN EVENING CALL, 

IN an easy-chair, in the laro-e plain sitting-room, 
^ Senator Ward was sitting that night when 
the sun went down behind the sharply-defined 
clouds, and darkness came over the water. The 
wind was blowing steadily, and the waves had a 
steady thundering roll that ended in an impa- 
tient swash and a clutching snarl. The light- 
ning, distant and diffusive, came now and then 
to light the old man's gray head faintly. 

He had been writing, but the portfolio had 
fallen to his knees, and, with his eyes fixed 
dreamily on the line where the clouds and the 
water met, he brooded over some sad thought. 
He looked very weak and old and humble as he 
sat there. He had only simple dignity at his 
best, and the name of Senator could not save him 
now from beinor the harassed old man that he 
was, with no son to share his toil and anxieties. 

He was facing his almost hopeless future. He 
had gone over the ground for the hundredth 
time. He couldn't meet that payment, and it 
would mean a forced sale of all he had and a loss 



120 ^ iltembcr of tl)c (Jl)irli Ciousc. 

so great, recovery would be impossible. Then 
his mind went back to his interview with Bren- 
nan, and he tried to remember what was said, 
but it was all hazy and vague. 

On the floor beside him lay the morning 
papers, containing his own testimony and that of 
many others. He sat there till it grew too dusk 
to read, his eyes on the light outside. Mrs. 
Ward came in with a match to light the lamp. 
She gave a quick glance at him and hesitated 
a moment as if uncertain whether to speak or 
not. 

" Why, Rufus, how quiet you are ! What are 
you doing ? I didn't know you was here." 

"I've been writing a little, my dear." 

"Why don't you go to your liberry ? " 

" Oh, I d' know. I kind o' wanted to be 
where I could look out on the water." 

Mrs. Ward took a seat by his side. " You're 
worryin* again, Rufus, an' you promised us you 
wouldn't." 

"Yes, I am worryin', Josephine, but not about 
my business. That is, not what you mean." 

"You ain't a-worryin' about that investigatin' 
committee, are you?" 

"Yes, I am, to tell the truth. I'm worried 
about that." 



2, illcmbir of tl)c (Jlljirb Cjouac, 1-21 

" But you've testified. Ain't that all you've 
got to do about it?" 

" No, it ain't, Josephine. I ought to do 
somethin' else, but I — -can't. I ain't got the 
courage." He rose and walked about un- 
steadily. 

"There, there, Rufus ! Set down. I didn't 
mean to stir you up. I wish 't Wilson Tuttle 
hadn't never been born." 

"No, you don't, mother. You don't mean 
any such thing." 

"I do, too! He don't do nothin' but make 
trouble everywhere he goes. " 

"He's all right, mother. He's only doin' his 
duty. If he hadn't started this investigation 
somebody else " 

" Oh, I don't mean that s'much — I don't mean 
that't all!" 

"What do you mean, then ? " 

" Don't you know? Ain't y' seen?" inquired 
his wife sharply. 

"No. What? I ain't seen anything." 

"Oh, dear! Men ain't got any eyes ^cept 
for business," she exclaimed in despair. "Evy 
has been cryin' her eyes out for that wooden- 
headed, dictionary-spoken thing all this week. 
I can't persuade 'er" 



122 Q{ iHembcr of tl)e ^l)lrb Qousc. 

Ward looked up at her helplessly. " You 
don't mean she's " 

"That's exactly what I do mean — just that." she 
replied, looking at him defiantly. 

" Why, I was afraid she was kind o' taking up 
with Tom Brennan," exclaimed the Senator. 

" Tom Brennan ! " replied Mrs, Ward, in vast 
disdain. " Well, I give up, Senator Ward ! I 
thought you had some sense. Tom Brennan ! 
An' here she's be'n worshipin' that book-worm 
an' walkin' up an' down the beach with him, an' 
learnin' him to play tennis all this while ! An' 
you ain't seen it ! Course, she's kind o' held 
in, for she was afraid he liked Helene Davis, an' 
I guess he does, but Helene, she likes Brennan, 
though w/iy, I can't see. He's too oily and 
good-natured, that man is, for me. He makes 
me think o' Cy Williams. I wouldn't be a bit 
surprised if hq skipped out to Canada same as 
Cy did. He's in the parlor there now, he an' 
Helene both. Thank goodness ! they're about 
ready to go. I wish he'd never come back, fur's 
I'm concerned." 

"And so you think Evy kind o"' 

"I don't think anything about it. I know it. 
She ain't one o' the kind that lets on, but she's 
just eatin' her heart out alone. An' she won't 
talk to me — hushes me right up." Her voice 



Qi ilTcmbcr of tl)c (JTljirb i^ouec. 123 

broke, and she was obliged to wipe her eyes. 
" It does seem as if everything was criss-cross 
in this world, Rufus. After we've worked an' 

saved s' many years" She broke off to 

keep from sobbing. "If you hadn't gone into 
politics we'd 'a' be'n better off, a good sight." 

Ward acknowledged the justice of her re- 
proach with a sigh. "You're right, Josephine." 
Then he asked a question in a tone that seemed 
to ask assurance. "But now I'm in politics I 
ought to serve my State faithfully, hadn't I ?" 

"Course! They's nothin' else you can do. 
If, after all you've sacrificed, you don't serve 
your State faithfully, I don't see but what you'd 
be a reg'lar failure^ Rufus. Elder White used 
to say : ' Long's a man's honest he ain't a fail- 
ure. Guv'ment may be a failure, but he ain't." 
Ward groaned and dropped his head on his 
hands. 

"Why, Rufus, what's the matter? What 
have I said now ? " 

" Nothin', mother. It's what I've said and 
done — I've been a failure and a disgrace to 
you, Josephine." 

" You ain't neither, Rufus Ward, now ! Don't 
you say that ag'in." 

" If I was out o' thiS; I never'd go into poli- 
tics ag'in. I'm afraid I never'll git out." 



IM Q[ ilTcmbcr of tijc ^Ifxr'ii C)OU0C. 

"There, there! Don't worry any more to- 
night, Riifus. Sufficient unto the day is the 
evil thereof." 

Her own eyes were wet, and she put 
her hand tenderly on his shoulder. There 
was a burst of laughter in the hall, and Evelyn 
and Brennan, going by, stopped and looked in 
at the door-way. 

"Ah, I fear we intrude upon a lovers' tete-a- 
tete," cried Brennan. "I'm sure of it. They're 
both blushing." 

" I euess not," laughed Helene. "The blush 
is on the Senator's white hair, so it must be the 
shade of the lamp. I'm sorry to spoil your 
romance." 

"We're more likely to be quarrelin' than 
courtin' at our time o' life," said Mrs. Ward, 
smilelessly. "The romance is pretty well faded 
out o' things with us." 

"Why, mother! You know you never quar- 
rel." 

"Not that you see, probably." 

" I try to quarrel sometimes," said the Sena- 
tor, "but it takes two, you know, and so I 
can t. 

"I generally find there's two of us when I 
want to quarrel," said Brennan. A distant light- 



% Mtmbtv of tl)£ iJljiri) €)onsL Uo 

ning flash lighted the room, and was followed, 
after a moment, by a mutter of thunder. 

"Oh, what a frightful flash!" Helene cried. 
" Tom, take me home this minute. Thunder 
makes me frantic." 

" I like to escort girls home in a thunder- 
storm," said Brennan to Ward. "They're so 
confiding. They cling to one's arm like a bar- 
nacle. Come on ! Now for a run ! Good 
night, all." 

Ward went with them into the hall and out on 
the porch as they ran across the lawn. 

"She's pretty gay, ain't she?" said Mrs. 
Ward to Evelyn. " She don't have to worry 
over debts and investigatin' committees. Seems 
if everything was bearin' down on your father 
these days." 

"But Helene ain't quite happy for all that. 
She's trying to be gay. I don't think she's 
sincere in it." 

" Why, what makes you think that ? " 

"She's quarreled with Wilson, or, rather, 
broken with him." 

" You don't say ! What about, for pity's 
sake ? " 

"Oh, about this investigating committee." 

" For Peter's sake ! Well, I hope Wilson 
Tuttle feels he's right, for it's gettin' him into 



120 Qi Mtmbcv of tl)£ Sljlrli €)0U3c. 

hot water all round. So that's the reason she's 
so sweet on Tom Brennan ? Well, well ! An' 
now there won't neither of you have him." 

" Hush ! Why, mother, do you know how 
that sounds ! Besides, I wish you wouldn't talk 
about it at all just now, I'll be able to bear it 
better after a while. But he's very noble in 
this. He told me all about it. He's simply 
standing for truth and justice ; even the papers 
admit that." 

" Well, I wish she was worth the trouble, but 
it's always the way with a man like that. Ten 
chances to one he takes up with some little bit 
of a rattle-headed" 

Evelyn stopped her again. 

"Don't, mother ! Helene isn^t so petty as she 
seems. She's really noble at heart. With him 
she'd grow to be a good, true woman." 

'■ Good, true fiddlesticks ! All she'll ever grow 
into is a chatterbox. She ain't got brains enough 
for anything else." She ended full of maternal 
rebellion at the course of things, 

" Why, mother, how can you say such dread- 
ful things ? " 

Ward was heard talking to some one at the 
door, " Come in ! come in ! " 

" Pa's got company. Guess we'd better va- 



2. ilU'mber of tlje (lljiri) t}ous£. 127 

moose," said Mrs. Ward, " we ain't either of us fit 
to be seen." 

Ward returned with Davis, whose quick eye 
caught a glimpse of the vanishing women. 

" Hope I didn't scare anybody away." 

" Oh, I guess not. Take, a chair. I'll light 
another burner." 

" Oh, no, no ! This is all right. Just the 
kind of a light for two reminiscent old chaps to 
talk by." 

He was in a peculiarly complaisant, almost 
tender, mood — not posing as a great financier, 
nor apparently concerned about his interests as a 
monopolist. He stretched his legs out before 
him in a restful position, leaned his head back on 
his chair, and talked familiarly as a neighbor. 
He was country-born himself, and knew that 
nothing was so flattering as this assumption of 
homely ease. 

Ward was puzzled by it. For, although they 
had been neighbors here for two seasons, Davis 
had never before entered his house except in an 
entirely business way. They had nodded daily, 
of course, and discussed events of the morning, 
as they rode up on the boat or down on the 
train in the afternoon, but this neighborliness 
was something new, and had a disarming charm 
(coming from the great Iron Duke) which was 



128 ^ iUcmbtr of i\)c 5[l)irb ^onst, 

hard to resist, thouo-h he knew that he scrupled 
at nothing to carry his point. 

"Ah, my bones ain't what they used to be, 
strange to say, Senator. I'm older than you 
are, d'you know it? I'm sixty. Come, now, 
that's two or three years more than you can 
record." 

"Yes, I'm only fifty-nine." 

"You're looking considerably under the 
weather, Senator," said Davis, after a little 
silence. 

"I'm feeling that way. Fact is, business mat- 
ters are worryin' me a little. Have been for 
some time." 

"So I've heard. Well, I'm a little annoyed 
these days myself at this business up at the 
Capitol building. In fact, I'm a good deal dis- 
turbed. I don't like the way the public take it 
up. What did they do to-day, anyhow, at Tut- 
tle's little farce-comedy?" he asked in an indif- 
ferent way. 

"Not much of anything," replied Ward evas- 
ively. "Examined a few unimportant wit- 
nesses." 

"Well, just how is the Senate feeling?" 

Ward stiffened a little. " I don't think I'm at 
liberty to state." 

Davis leaned over as if in a burst of confidence. 



2. Mlcmbtv of tl)e Sljir^ Sjonst. 129 

" I don't mind saying, Senator, that I'm dmnn- 
ably worried. It may lose us the charter. But 
you senators ought to see that we're the only 
men that can build the road. We're here on the 
ground. No other arrangement can serve the 
people as well. We make better connections, 
save fares. If you're working for the people's 
good, you'll work for us. You're bound to." 

■' That may be so, from your point of view, but 
from mine " 

" There's no other point of view for you, as a 
representative of the public. If you refuse to 
work with us, you simply delay the building of a 
road for ten years. Now let's go over the 
ground " 

Ward rose. " It's no use to argue with me, 
Davis. I've been all over the ground. There 
ain't anything more to say." 

"Oh, yes, there is, Senator, lots to say. Now, 
I'd like to make a proposition to you. Sit down ! 
Now, it's all nonsense to object to a thing like 
that. The public can't see ahead. They don't 
know what's the best thing to do. If they did, 
we wouldn't find it necessary to do this. Now, 
take these senators. Many of them are old gran- 
nies, superannuated country lawyers. You know 
that, and they need to be led by men like your- 
self. Now, if you'll — if you'll go into this thing 



130 ^ iHember of tl)c Sljir^ ^anst. 

with us, I'll take half your business on my 
hands, and make you a stockholder to that 
amount in the road. Come ! That's the way all 
business is carried on these days. Perfectly 
legitimate. I don't approach you as a senator, 
but as a man and a neighbor, and, besides, the 
thing I ask you to do is a real service to the 
public." It was astonishing how necessary, 
almost honorable, his voice made this appear, he 
was so frank and honest. 

" Give me time to think, Davis," said Ward, 
weakly. " It's too much to expect of me off- 
hand." 

Davis reached over and touched his knee. 

" Senator, as man to man, I want to be per- 
fectly frank with you. The loss of this charter 
may ruin my road. We've been building on our 
original line, changing grades, renewing bridges, 
and so forth, and we've borrowed largely this 
year — borrowed big money. If anything were to 
happen to make people — capitalists — lose confi- 
dence in the road, or in me, we'd be in the hands 
of a receiver in thirty days. It would be a ter- 
rible injustice to us, and especially to our small 
stockholders and employes. Just imagine the 
condition of things if we fail. Now, let's work 
together. Come, — what do you say ? " 



% ilUmbcr of tijc Slljirii ^onsc. 131 

He waited while Ward mused with downcast 
head. 

" Give me time, Davis. You press me too 
hard. I — I can't decide now." 

"Very well. Only the vote comes soon. 
This investigation will fall through. It's annoy- 
ing, but not dangerous. Can't you decide to- 
morrow?" 

" Yes, I'll try. But I don't think I can influ- 
ence anybody." 

" I'll take the risk, Senator," said Davis, 
rising and extending his hand, which Ward took 
hesitatingly. "I'll see you to-morrow night. 
Come to my office at five, and we'll come down 
together. Good night." 



Chapter X. 

" I WILL TESTIFY." 

WARD returned to his seat by the table. 
He sighed deeply, at last rose and walked 
to the window. As he stood there looking- out 
into the night, watching the far-off display of 
silent lightning, a knock came on the door, and 
Evelyn asked: 

"May I come in, father?" 

"Yes, my dear." 

"Are you alone?" she asked, looking about. 
She studied his face. 

"Not now, dear; I've got you." He put his 
arm about her waist. Evelyn was very sober. 
"Wilson wishes to see you, father." 

"To see me? Anything in particular?" 

"I think so, but I don't know." 

There was a little pause, and Ward said: 

"Tell him to come in." 

Evelyn went to the door and said, " Mr. Tut- 

tle, father is alone now." The subtle change 

from "Wilson" to "Mr. Tuttle" was not lost 

upon the Senator, now that he was made sensi- 

133 



^ iHnnbcr of tl)c ®l)irb fjousc. 138 

tive to the situation. His heart turned from his 
own trouble to hers. 

Tuttle entered with hat and stick in his hand. 
The men g-reeted each other rather coldly, 
Ward pushing forward a chair. 

"You want to see me?" 

"Yes, alone," replied Tuttle, still standing. 

"Oh, I'll go, then," exclaimed Evelyn. 

Ward reached out a hand to detain her. He 
seemed to need her presence. "No, my girl 
knows all my business. There are — few secrets 
between us. Go on, sir, what is it?" Evelyn 
stood beside him. Her heart beat with appre- 
hension. 

Tuttle bowed and took a chair, and began to 
speak in a formal way, slightly oratorical, as if 
the echoes of his recent speech were still in his 
tone and words. 

"Senator, when I rose in the House and 
charged the Senate with corrupt practices, you 
will remember I said that it was in the hope 
that the charge — which was not mine — would 
be refuted. Men and papers had clamored in 
my ear for some such open statement of what 
they were saying or hinting. Of course, I 
knew that you and your brethren would escape 
any taint ; that as honest men you courted inves- 
tigation. Your testimony last Tuesday was in 



134 ^ iHember of tl)c tl)irb l^onsf. 

the main what I expected from you, but at the 
end of four days, the committee, without having 
found anything conclusive about bribery, have 
proved to the public and myself that the Con- 
solidated Air Line Railway has bought its way 
boldly and adroitly to its present point." 

"You don't mean to say Mr. Davis has" 

asked Evelyn. 

" I don't know how much he knows of the 
work, but I regard Fox and Brennan as danger- 
ous men. The public now comes back upon 
me, because I can find no case. Of course, we 
all know that, were the criminals actually before 
us, their only course would be to deny iji totoy 
He paused an instant, looked straight at Ward, 
and said, in a low voice: "Senator, I think Miss 
Ward had better leave us." 

"No, now I'm going to stay and hear you 
out," replied Evelyn. 

Senator Ward shivered, as if a cold blast 
touched him. "Let her remain. Go on." 

"Very well. Now, Senator, slander is busy 
with your name." 

"My name? What do they say?" 

"How dare they slander him?" demanded 
Evelyn, her face full of indignation. 

Tuttle rose involuntarily, with the growing 
excitement. His fine, serious face was full of 



'2, ilUmbcr of tl)c i^ljirb j^ousc. 135 

pain, "They say you know of senators who 
have been bribed. They say that — under the 
influence of — of Hquor " 

Ward turned his eyes for a moment upon Eve- 
lyn, then turned his head toward the window. 
His face, pathetically drawn, moved Tuttle almost 
to tears. 

"Pardon me, Senator," Tuttle said, with deep 
feeling, "I'm only repeating" 

Ward faced him again. " Go on, sir; I under- 
stand." 

Evelyn sprang to her feet. " The miserable 
creatures ! How can they ! " Angry tears were 
in her eyes. 

Tuttle went on slowly. "They say that you 
have boasted of having been approached by an 
agent of the Consolidated ; that, if you would, 
you could testify in such a way as to give us a 
hold upon the unscrupulous scoundrels who pro- 
fess to carry both houses in their pockets. Sen- 
ator," he went on, with a fervor of appeal, " I 
stand here to-night to say that if you can strike 
a blow at these men, you should do it, for God's 
sake and Truth's sake." 

Ward, deeply affected, looked away again, 
and faltered in a low voice, "Betray my col- 
leagues ! " 

" If you don't, you betray your State ! " was 



136 ^ illcmbcr of tl)c iJl)irb €)Ousc. 

the young" man's ringing- reply. "The welfare of 
the people demands it. Public morality demands 
it. Unless we can break through this chain of 
denial, we can prove nothing. If we only had one 
little opening ; if we could only force one petty 
member of the Third House to confess " 

"Father, I see it." cried Evelyn, her face 
lighted up with something of Tuttle's own en- 
thusiasm. " If you can furnish evidence, it is 
your duty to the people." 

Tuttle went on : " Every paper in the Union 
is commenting on t>he supineness of our great 
State under the heel of this corporation. We 
must break it down. I am appalled at the 
thought of failing to convict, so gigantic is the 
evil. If one act could be fixed on the railway, 
the whole stupendous fraud would fall to pieces. 
Senator," he said, flinging out his hand in a last 
appeal, " I felt that in your testimony last Tues- 
day you kept something back. If I recall you 
to-morrow, will you tell us all you know ? " 

" Of course he will." said Evelyn, placing her 
hand on her father's shoulder. There was a 
significant silence in the room. 

" Suppose it sacrificed a dear friend," said 
Ward, in a low voice. 

" Do it, father. Won't you ? There is no 
other way." 



^ illnnbcr of tl)c (^l)irb Cjousc. 137 

"Suppose it robbed a wife and children of 
support ? " 

" The question should be what is rig-ht, not 
what is expedient," said Tuttle, with the inex- 
orable logic of a moralist. 

When Ward spoke again, his voice was in a 
higher key and trembled perceptibly. " Suppose 
it destroys the name of a man who has grown old 
in the service of his State ? " 

"The truth won't hurt such a hypocrite," cried 
Evelyn; "it would do him good. Stand up 
for justice, father. I'd do it if I were in your 
place." 

" It's worth the cost, Senator. Think of its 
effect on future legislation." 

There was another pause. 

" Very well, sir ; you've set me a hard task. I 
never had a harder one. You may recall me, and 
I will testify." He sank into his chair and bowed 
his head upon his hand. 

"That's my brave Puritan father," Evelyn 
said, putting her hand about his neck. 

When Ward lifted up his head to speak, his 
face had a set look. He spoke slowly, brokenly. 
"You don't understand what you ask, Evelyn. 
Let me put it to you in a new way. On one 
side is a monopoly, stronger than you can under- 
stand, reaching like a devil-fish into every man's 



138 ^ ittcmbcr of t\)t ^\)iv^ ^oust. 

pocket, unscrupulous men everywhere at the 
head of it, doing its work of bribery with eyes 
shut, a corrupting influence which we cannot de- 
stroy without sacrificing some man, somebody 
with wife and children and friends, who love him 
and trust him. It will be ruin to many a man 
if I speak. Senators will be impeached." 

"Then you must speak, father. Why, you 
terrify me by describing this power. If you can 
break down this wall that shields these robbers, 
do it, no matter what individual suffers." 

" Suppose /am the individual ? " 

"What do you mean? Not that you — not 
that it is " 

"Good heavens, Senator! You don't mean 
thsity 021 have actually — accepted'' 

Ward looked up at them both, with white, 
pathetic face. " I'm a disgraced and ruined old 
man. Help me to do my duty." He uttered a 
low cry that was like a sob. Evelyn put her 
arm about his neck with the action of a mother- 
bird sheltering its young. There was an accus- 
ing look on her face, but her out-flung hand had 
pleading in it. Tuttle rose and went hastily out, 
leaving father and child together. 



Chapter XI. 

BEFORE THE JOINT COMMITTEE. 

T^HE interest in the investigation had grown 
'^ from day to day, and long before ten o'clock 
on Monday people began to ascend to the com- 
mittee-room and take the seats reserved for the 
spectators. A continuous stream from the inces- 
santly rising and falling elevators clicked, shuffled 
and clattered along the halls. Tuttle was waiting 
out in the corridor for the coming- of the com- 
mittee and the principals, pacing back and forth 
just beyond the door on the marble flagging, 
unmindful of the curious glances of the crowd. 

Strangers coming along saw him, whispered, 
smiled, for he was known to most of them. The 
members of the Third House came up in pairs, 
laughing gaily, and the hall echoed with quips 
and jests and laughter, like the lobby of a thea- 
ter. Had there been more women its verisimil- 
itude would have been complete. 

Brennan came along, looking as fresh as the 
rose he wore in his coat. He nodded at Tuttle. 
" Hello, Tuttle ! How's business ? " 



140 ^ illembcr of tijc ©Ijirb j^ousc. 

"Save your jokes till night," Tuttle replied, 
quietly. 

" I'll have plenty left, and you'll be the biggest 
one of all," said Brennan, as he passed on. 

Tuttle was waiting for Ward and Evelyn. 
Would he come ? It was a terrible thing to ask 
of him. He was an old man and in financial 
straits ; his testimony would ruin him in the face 
of the community. The more Tuttle thought 
of it, the more impossible it grew. It was more 
than any man was capable of. 

The crowds streamed by him. He could 
hear them as they whispered to their com- 
panions : "There he is — that's Tuttle." 

At every click of the elevator door he turned 
to look. Helene came in with young Brooks, 
a divinity student, an affected, brainless creature. 
She gave one quick glance at him, and then fell 
into a very deeply interested conversation with 
young Brooks, whom she hated, and so managed 
to pass Tuttle without seeing him. 

Tuttle was braced to the shock, but he stag- 
gered under it. He had hoped it would not 
come to that. The practice of "cutting" friends 
had always seemed to him a weak and childish 
thing to do. It settled nothing. It served only 
to belittle and degrade both parties to it. 

At last Senator Ward came in with Evelyn. 



'^ Mtmbtv of tl)£ Sljirlr ^ouse. 141 

Tuttle was shocked at his looks. He absolutely 
leaned upon Evelyn's shoulder for support, and 
his face was white and full of shadows where 
the fallen muscles had left hollows. His eyes 
were wide and almost piteous. He smiled pa- 
thetically. 

" I'm here, Wilson — ready to do my duty." 

" I wish there was some other way, Senator," 
Tuttle said, giving them each a hand. " I'm 
ready to release you, I've thought it all over ; 
it's too much to ask of you. I don't ask it of 
you." 

Evelyn's set face relaxed into a smile. Her 
eyes filled with tears. " Oh, I'm so glad to hear 
you say that. He is so sick. It don't seem so 
easy here before this crowd." 

"No, I shall do it," Ward replied. "I ain't 
got much longer to live anyway." 

"Oh, father!" 

" It's true, Evelyn. I don't care to-day. I'm 
ready, anxious to do it and have done with it." 
His eyes lighted with a desperate sort of enthu- 
siasm. He had attained something of the mar- 
tyr's mood. 

" It may be avoided," Tuttle said to Evelyn. 
" We are going to re-examine some of the prin- 
cipals, and there are several almost desperate 
measures which we will use. If at the last we 



142 ^ iHemb^r of tljt Sfjirlr ^onst, 

find our case, going by the board, and the Senator 
is willing" 

" I shall be willing," the old man cried. 

Tuttle gave him his arm, and they entered the 
committee-room. 



Chapter XII. 

SENATOR ward's APPEAL. 

/^OMMITTEE-ROOM A was a large vaulted 
^— ' room, whose windows looked away on the 
city and over the valley where the river lay at 
flood-tide, reflecting- the burning light of the 
morninp- sun like burnished steel. The windows 
were open, and the curtains flapped intermittently 
as the wind gushed in, laving the crowd with 
delicious impartiality. The room was filled with 
a motley crowd, all sorts of reformers, and all 
sorts of people drawn merely out of curiosity to 
witness that most dramatic of all things in real 
life, a trial of justice. 

At one end of the room were the seats of the 
spectators. On a semi-circular platform at the 
other end of the room were a series of desks 
arranged in shape like a horse-shoe, placed end 
to end. In the space inclosed was a long repor- 
ters' table. On either side, at the front, were two 
long tables. At one sat the Iron Duke, his attor- 
ney Binney, Fox and Brennan. At the other 
Tuttle took his seat with the Attorney-General. 



144 '^ illcmbtT of tl)£ (Jljlrb ^ousc. 

At the back of the committee's chairs were other 
reporters and clerks writing busily. At the 
door, moving- about and waiting upon the com- 
mitteemen, were the assistant sergeants-at-arms. 
Immediately in front were the seats reserved for 
representatives, quite a number of whom were 
present, especially the younger members, who 
came in jauntily, with flowers in their button- 
holes, and one or two wore sashes. They nod- 
ded to Brennan and laughed among them- 
selves carelessly, some faces showing signs of 
liquor, but others were grave and anxious. The 
senators mainly talked among themselves, nod- 
ding their gray heads. The general feeling was 
that a crisis was reached. If Tuttle won nothing 
from this sitting, everybody said he must with- 
draw. 

The sensation of the hour was the entrance 
of Senator Ward and Evelyn, accompanied by 
Tuttle. The people broke into applause at the 
sight of the young champion of the people's 
rights, who paid no attention to the clapping, but 
assisted Ward to a seat. 

" Old gent's been on another bat." commented 
Merritt, breaking in on a story Brennan was 
telling. 

" Rather rocky this morning. (I wonder what 



2, illcmbcr of tl)£ Qi\)iv^ ^OU0C. 145 

brings him out in that condition)," said Brennan 
to himself. He gave httle further thought to it. 

" Well," he said, continuing his story, which 
he told capitally, " there were these two old girls 
looking across the back-yard fence, and this was 
the dialogue: 'Have you haird the news?' 
' No, phwat is it ? ' ' Mrs. O'Flanigan has an in- 
crease in the family.' *Naw.' ' Indade, yis.' 
'Phwat is the six, bye or gurl .'* ' 'Nayther.' 
'Phwat? Nayther?' ' Naw, it's twuns.' " 

The group around Brennan laughed uproari- 
ously, till Chairman Smith silenced them by say- 
ing : " Say, Brennan is Irish. If you don't be- 
lieve it from his brogue, let me tell you the bull 
he made the other day. He said to Wade, who 
wanted him to go yachting on Friday — 'All 
right,' says Tom, ' I'll go on Friday, if it dawn't 
rain. If it rains Friday, I'll go Thursday.'" 

While they were all laughing at Brennan, the 
•remaining members of the committee came in 
and took their seats, and, as he grinned in 
subsiding merriment, the chairman called the 
room to order by a blow of the gavel upon his 
desk. 

"We are ready to proceed, Mr. Attorney- 
General," he said, and he leaned over and 
whispered something to his neighbor that con- 
vulsed them both, while his hard, bold eyes were 



14G "2, iUcmbcr of tljc Sljlrb fyusc. 

fixed on Helena's fresh face and dancing eyes. It 
was all very delightful for her. The whole affair 
was farcical or dull to most of the committee. 
They rejoiced when a breath of fun came in. 

The first witness called was Robert Jenks, 
whose convenient deafness, somewhat exagger- 
ated possibly, made interrogation difficult, as the 
Attorney-General's voice was not strong. He 
had been very busy at the office, Robert testi- 
fied, and had not taken much notice who came 
in or out with his brother. He could not hear 
anything spoken in the office unless he could 
see the speaker's lips. Did not know the names 
of men who called. Could not recall faces. 

"Call Thomas Brennan," said the Attorney- 
General, dismissing Robert, who rose impas- 
sively and went out. 

"Mr. Brennan." Brennan came around to 
the witness-chair at the left. The clerk swore 
him in the usual perfunctory manner. " Hoi' up 
y'r 'an'. You do so'mly swear 't w't you tes'fy 
s'll be wholetruth, nothin' but truth, s'help-ye- 
God." Brennan nodded and seated himself. 

The Attorney-General picked up a scrap of 
paper from the desk, looked benevolently over 
his spectacles at Brennan, and asked in a per- 
fectly indifferent manner: "Mr. Brennan, you're 
a member of the Third House, I believe?" 



2. ilhmbtv of i\)t (Eljirir Cjoubc. 147 

His voice seemed to come from a great interior 
distance and addressed itself to space. 

"Accordin' to the noospapers, I have that 
honor," repHed Brennan, blandly at his ease. 

"A doubtful honor. In your opinion, Mr. 
Brennan, what constitutes the duties of a mem- 
ber of the Third House ? " 

" I don't know that they've been defined." 

" What do you mean by that, sir ? '' said the 
Attorney-General, looking at him. 

" Well, I don't know that I've sized it up yet 
myself. But I should say — greasing the wheels 
of legislation." 

"That is to say " 

"I mean instructing the country members, sir." 
The Attorney- General seemed mildly interested 
in this bit of information. His eyes returned to 
the slip in his hand. 

"Ahem ! That's the legitimate, I suppose. 
What is the illegitimate function ? " 

" Can't say ; you'll have to ask the other feller. 
I'm not in it." This raised a laugh. 

"Mr. Brennan," said the Attorney-General, 
leaning toward him and taking a little more inter- 
est in his questioning, " have you ever paid out 
any money to members of either house' in the 
interests of the Consolidated ? " 

"No, sir." 



148 ^ iHembrr of tl)e ^Ijirb §ou0f. 

"Or in your own interest?" 

" No, sir, never." 

The Attorney-General paused,took off his spec- 
tacles, polished them with his handkerchief, and 
asked: "You're employed here in the interests 
of the Consolidated ? " 
Yes, sir. 

"What do you do here? You must earn 
your salary," he said, going on in a curiously 
mechanical, automatic way. It didn't seem to 
involve any correlative thinking on his part. 

Brennan winked jovially at the chairman, with 
the eye on the other side from the prosecution. 
" I try to, sir." 

"Well, now, what do you do? Now, wait; 
I wish you'd state, carefully and briefly, just 
what you do." 

Brennan replied, seriously, as if nothing was 
to be gained by further evasion : " I secure the 
services of the Third House, either by retaining 
them as lawyers or as lobbyists, pure and 
simple." 

The Attorney- General looked at the ceiling 
meditatively. "Pay them money, of course?" 
he said, as if he saw the question posted on the 
ceiling. 

" Of course ; that's what they're here for." 

"And that's what you're here for. That is to 



2. illanbn- of tl)c ^Ijirb C)ousc. 140 

say, you either pay them for doing certain work 
or retain them so they won't work against 
you ? " 

"Yes, sir; that's the exact idea." Brennan 
appeared deHghted at his ready comprehension. 

"How much money have you paid out to 
those members of the Third House?" pursued 
the Attorney-General. 

"Can't say — too much." 

"Don't keep an account, I suppose?" 

"Not a regular book, no, sir; only a few 
memoranda." 

Softly, without looking at Brennan : " Never 
paid, by mistake, any money to members of the 
o^Aer houses ? " 

" No, sir, not a cent." 

Tuttle at this point whispered in the Attorney- 
General's ear, who then turned and asked: "Who 
arranged these — these dinners? Whose idea 
was that? Yours, or Mr. Davis'?" 

" Mine. I suggested it as a good thing, and 
he agreed." 

"Ah ! What made you think it was a good 
thing? " 

'' Well, I thought it would give us a good 
chance to explain the bill, and then a man's 
always in better shape to listen when he has a 
good dinner, you know." 



150 ^ iUcmbcr of tl)c ^l)irb ^onsc. 

"Is your idea of a good dinner one costing ten 
dollars a plate ?" 

Brennan smiled broadly. " Well, yes, I should 
say that it was a " 

" Good workable dinner — eh ?" struck in the 
attorney, dryly humorous. When the laughter 
had died away he returned to Brennan with a 
little more severity than he had yet shown. 

"Now, sir, is it not a fact it was your design 
to unduly influence those men by that dinner and 
those wines ?" 

Brennan hesitated a little. " Well, I didn't 
suppose it would make 'em enemies," he 
admitted. 

"You thought it would influence them favor- 
ably?" 

"I did, yes, sir." 

" You say you never paid one cent to any 
member of this legislature," pursued the Attor- 
ney-General, putting on "his glasses again and 
referring to some notes. "Do I understand 
you to mean by that that no values of notes or 
stocks or bonds " 

"Yes, sir, once for all I say I've not spent 
one cent illegitimately for the interests of the 
Air Line." 

" That doesn't answer my question, sir." 

"Why not?" 



^ iUcmbcr of tl)c Sljirii l^ousc. 151 

" Because we don't agree on the meaning of 
the word 'legitimate.' Haven't you promised 
members of this legislature that if the bill passed 
they would be stockholders in the road to speci- 
fied amounts. " 

"No, sir." 

"You are under oath, Mr. Brennan," said the 
Attorney-General, quietly severe. 

Brennan faced him undauntedly. "I am 
aware of it, sir." There was a little pause. 
Both parties studied each other. 

"That's all, sir," said the Attorney- General. 
Brennan smiled. 

The chairman looked around the circle. 
"Any one else a question ? " 

The first committeeman, a young man of 
great sincerity and power, known to be a dis- 
tinct opponent of all monopoly, took up the 
questioning. 

"Mr. Brennan, how much of your time do 
you give to the Third House ? " he said, in a 
crisp, matter-of-fact voice. 

"Just now, all my time." 

" What do you get for it ? " 

" Five thousand per year." 

"Does that include your expenses ? " 

"No, sir — that is, not all of them." 

" If you should give a dinner to a dozen legis- 



153 :7l iHeinbcr of tl)e ^Ijirb f)Ouse. 

lators, the bill could safely be left to the Consol- 
idated to pay ? " 

"Yes, sir.". 

"That's all, Mr. Chairman — for the present." 

The chairman now took up the interrogation. 
"One moment, Mr. Brennan. Why were these 
invitations to dinner given out in blocks of ten ? 
Was there any special significance in that ? " 

" Oh, no ! Only a handy way of telling when 
we got round." 

" Didn't want to treat the same fellow twice — 
eh ? Had no political significance, I take it. 
Any one else a question ? Mr. Binney ? " 

Binney, who had been apparently dozing, 
roused up, and asked in his peculiar, high, 
nasal, drawling, self-complacent tone : 

" Mr. Brennan, did you ever pay, or promise 
to pay, one cent — in stocks, bonds, cash, or 
valuables of rt;;/j' kind — to any member — of this 
legislature ? " 
'"No, sir." 

"That's all," said Binney, settling down 
again, as if that settled the matter, while a 
ripple of laughter ran over the room. The 
Attorney-General at this point asked : 

"One more question, Mr. Brennan. Do you 
consider the work you've done here for the Air 



^ ilTcmbcr of tl)c ^l)irb C)ousc. 153 

Line, this work of buying up the Third House, 
legitimate ? " 

"Yes, sir, and more, it was necessary," re- 
plied Brennan, with engaging frankness that 
raised a laugh. 

The Attorney-General settled back in his 
chair. "Do you keep any accounts, check- 
books, stubs or vouchers for the amounts you 
pay out ? " 

"No, sir." 

"Trust each other perfectly, I suppose?" put 
in the first committeeman, who never took his 
eyes off Brennan's face during the entire testi- 
mony. 

"Are the promises to pay ever put into 
writing? " 

"No, sir." 

"So that, unless some one squeaked, there is 
no trace of the actual amounts passed?" 

"No, sir, not unless we would give them, 
which we have freely done," 

" Your openness doesn't extend to any crimi- 
nating transactions, I've noticed," said the 
Attorney-General, dryly. 

" Because there wasn't any, sir." 

" That's what we're trying to convince our- 
selves." 

"Success to ye!" was Brennan's audacious 



154 ^ iUcmbcr of tljc ^Ijirb ^ousr. 

answer, which started another murmur of laughter 
and applause from the Third House. 
, "That's all." 

The chairman nodded. "That's all^ Mr. 
Brennan." 

"Call Mr. Davis." 

" Mr. Davis," said the chairman, with a respect- 
ful tone of voice, "the committee ask your 
recall." Davis left his seat near Helene and 
came forward and took the chair. He held a fan 
in his hand, with which he played. "You've 
been sworn, I believe?" Davis nodded without 
speaking-. 

The Attorney-General, with his eyes on the bit 
of paper which he held in his hands, began his 
questioning from the same remote interior depth 
as before, with no appreciable access of interest. 

"Mr. Davis, did you on the 24th of April meet 
a representative of the Electric Motor Line and 
pay him a certain sum of money ? " 

"As I testified on Wednesday, I did; yes, 
sir." 

" What did you pay him that money for ? " 

"I — I bought him out." 

" What do you mean by that ? According to 
your previous testimony, he had no property to 
sell." 



:?l iHembcr of tlje ®l)lrli ^omc. 155 

" I paid him to withdraw," rephed Davis, in 
the tone of a man facing a critical question. 

The Attorney-General again looked benig- 
nantly over his spectacles. " You heard that he 
was coming before this legislature with a plan for 
a road, asking a charter, and you thought it good 
business method to pay him to stay away?" 

"That's it, exactly; I paid him to keep away. 
I felt that we were better able to build the road, 
that it was good policy to use all legitimate 
means to get our charter, and" 

The Attorney-General interrupted him quietly 
but sternly. " Do you consider it a proper thing 
to step between a petitioning corporation and 
this legislature and buy it off? " Davis remained 
silent. " The legislature, representing the peo- 
ple of this State, should have a chance to see for 
itself the relative merits of each system. How 
much money did you pay ? " At this question the 
room became still as death ; the reporters waited 
with their pens in hand for this most important 
answer. Helene, without knowing what it all 
meant, was deeply interested. Davis partly rose, 
his face flushed with anger. 

" I decline to answer." 

This was the crisis that the defense had an- 
ticipated, and Binney rose and said : 

" Gentlemen of the c'mittee, I 'bject. I don't 



166 2. illembcr of tijc ^Ijirb Cjousf. 

see by what /ee-ga.\ right Mr. Attorney- General 
asks that question. What Mr. Davis paid to the 
representative of the. Motor Line is of a/?/;r-ly 
private nature. It don't enter into the province 
of this committee to ask for this information. I 
'bject to this question as impertinent and unwar- 
rantable, having- no basis in law." 

The Attorney-General arose, impressively quiet 
by contrast. " Gentlemen of the committee, I 
want to say, right here, that under the laws of 
the State the Consolidated Air Line Railway is 
a creature of the State, and, by the force of sec- 
tion twenty-one, chapter sixteen, it is obliged 
to render up its accounts at any time to a com- 
mittee of this character." He took up a book 
which Tuttle had opened and laid conveniently 
near. " I would call the committee's attention 
to the section where this is distinctly stated. I 
say, gentlemen, that my question is one which 
should be put and answered. I propose to show 
that that sum did not purchase five hundred dol- 
lars' worth of visible property ; that it was a 
bribe substantially, and a fraud on this legisla- 
ture. The Consolidated Road is a corporation ; 
the Motor System was seeking a charter as a cor- 
poration. A transaction of the nature indicated 
was not a private one, and I insist on knowing." 
He took his seat amid a hush almost painful. 



^ iUfmbtr of tl)£ ^Ijirir ^onst. 157 

The first grand dramatic moment had arrived. 
The first genuine battle. After the legal fashion 
they had approached by zig-zag and tunnel as if 
to taste to the full the delight of the mine's 
exploding surprise. The reporters sharpened 
their pencils and plunged into a racy description 
of the scene. The flapping curtains became an 
annoyance. 

The committee conferred a moment. The 
attorneys consulted each other. The crowd 
whispered their delight. Davis gnawed his 
bristling lip as Binney spoke in his ear. 

The chairman at last said : "At this point we 
agree to postpone the answer on the amount. 
Proceed on other matters for the present. We 
desire to secure precedent cases for reference," 

" I suppose you're willing to admit that it was 
a large sum, Mr. Davis," the Attorney-General 
said, in a kind, encouraging tone. 

" I am," Davis replied, after a pause. 

" Mr. Davis, according to your testimony on 
Wednesday, you did not know how many peo- 
ple had been retained. Since then a list has 
been made, and thirty-nine members of the 
lobby are known to have received money or 
promises of money from you. You admit that, 
I suppose ? " 

" It might be forty, or more." 



158 ^ iHember of tijc 2[l)iri) fynst. 

" You have no hesitancy about admitting that 
you paid large sums of money to these private 
individuals ? " 

" No, sir ; I found it necessary. I was forced 
into it by conditions." 

"I admire your frankness, if not your sense 
of morality. If I should say that a man who 
would buy a private individual, would, in my 
estimation, buy an official, if he could do it 
safely, you couldn't blame me, could you ?" 

Again Mr. Binney came out of his doze to 
object. " Gentlemen of the committee, I object 
to such methods of procedure." 

" You'll object to a good many of our methods 
before we are through with you," replied the 
Attorney-General, quietly. He asked the next 
question in the tone of a man who expects a 
certain answer. " Mr. Davis, you don't know, I 
suppose, of any money used to influence members 
of the House ?" 

"No, sir." 

" Or any distribution of stocks or official 
position, or promises of such distribution at 
some future time ?" 

Davis gnawed his mustache. "No, sir; noth- 
ing of the kind." 

Again the Attorney-General became slightly 
interested. " Do your books show the payment 



'^ ilUmbtT of il]t Sljirb i^ouse, 159 

of all these different sums of money — I mean 
the books of the railway, of course ?" 

" No, sir ; except in a general account with me ; 
there is always an open account with me." 

" That is, you have full swing on these matters, 
and the company stands ready to pay ?" 

'Mf you put it that way — yes, sir." 

"I do put it that way. And you, in your 
turn, g-ave the same discretionary power to Fox 
and Brennan ? " 

Davis hesitated, drumming nervously on the 
table. The Attorney-General went on softly, 
burnishing his glasses again: "I say, substan- 
tially the power to employ men in the interests 
of the road wherever they can find them, 
while you stood ready to pay without asking 
embarrassing questions." 

Davis paused as if to trace out the leadings 
of this question. "Yes, sir." 

"While you were to know nothing?" 

Davis became irritated for the first time. 
" Of course, it was impossible for me to know 
everything." 

The Attorney-General was ironically severe. 
" And of course you couldn't afford to be too 
curious." He then rose and addressed the 
committee. "Gentlemen, I insist on having the 
answer to my question, and I insist on having 



160 ^ iHembcr of ii]t ^xxtf ^ouof. 

the books of this corporation brought into this 
room. I beHeve that the money which went to 
the Motor Line also included money to be used 
in the interests of the Consolidated. I say that 
if you can find that fifty thousand dollars has 
been paid in one lump sum to an opposing 
petitioner, it is prima facie evidence of crime. 
I insist on the amount." 

Binney sprang to his feet before the Attorney- 
General had taken his seat, exclaiming in his 
scornful drawl : "If my lear-ned brother real-ly 
believes that, he must have got a new vi-ew of 
law from some in-spired book. As matter o' 
fact, if the sum were a half mil-lion, it would 
prove nothing. I in-sist it is a private matter. 
I object to the question." 

The chairman held up the ballots. " With a 
vote of five to two the committee demand the 
amount." 

Davis and Binney sprang up together, Davis 
shouting: "Mr. Chairman, this is an outrage, 
an assault on my private affairs. I shall not 
reply." 

" Gentlemen of the committee, I am astounded 
at such ign'rance, such injustice — it is without 
precedent." 

The chairman pounded upon the table with 
his Pfavel, brinorino- the room to order. His 



21 ilkmbcr of tl)£ ^Ijirb tjousf. 161 

jovial face became stern. " Mr. Binney seems 
to forget that he is in the presence of one of the 
highest courts of the land." 

" It is the committee's fault, sir, if that is so. 
There has been too little law and fairness," 

" Sit down, sir! This committee is not to be 
lectured," shouted the chairman. "The com- 
mittee, in anticipation of this question, have 
carefully examined the records for precedent. 
It was not a private and inviolable transaction. 
Proceed, Mr. Attorney-General. Mr. Davis 
will answer the question." 

The crowd was tense with delighted suspense. 
The reporters wrote like lightning. Relays 
came and went from the large table in the 
center. The special artist of the Planet drew 
rapid sketches of the chairman and Binney as 
they faced each other. Helene clapped her 
hands as if it were a play. Ward leaned for- 
ward, forgetful of everything else but Evelyn, 
whose hands held his. He recognized this as 
a very important question. 

Binney pulled Davis down and whispered 
some inaudible warning in his ear. Fox went 
over to them and added his counsel. Brennan 
walked the floor, his easy indifference for the 
first time disturbed. Tuttle and Russell con- 
sulted. The. crowd waited with whispered col* 



163 ^ iHembcr of t\)t ®l)irb Cjousr. 

loquies, their eyes on Davis as the great actor in 
the drama. The Attorney-General, at length, 
with calm but fateful utterance, asked : 

" Mr. Davis, what zuas the sum paid by you to 
the representative of the Motor Line? " 

Binney arose. "At juj' request, Mr. Davis 
will reply, because it really has no significa7ice, 
as I see, what the sum was, when the passage 
of some money is admitted." 

Davis answered, with a touch of bravado : 
" I paid him a hundred thousand dollars." 

There was a tremendous sensation in the 
room, much wagging of heads and mutterings : 
" I told you so ! " "That cooks his goose," and 
the like. Instant silence followed that they 
might hear the next question. 

" In cash ? " 

"I decline to answer that, sir." 

"Is it not a fact, Mr. Davis," insinuated the 
Attorney-General, "that you paid him half in 
cash to be used in furthering the bill, and half in 
stock in the road ? " 

"I decline to answer." 

"Will your books show the nature of this 
transaction ?" 

"No, sir." 

" Or the amount?" 

''No, sir." 



^ illcmbcr of tl)c ^Ijirir ^ou0c. i63 

" But they will show an account with you. 
Will you bring those books in ? " 

"The company's books — yes, sir.' 

"This afternoon?" Davis nodded. "Very 
well, sir, that is all." 

"Any one else a question .-* " asked the chair- 
man. 

Binney, who confined his examination of his 
principals to the single repeated question to 
brinp- out their innocence, asked with sio-nificant 
emphasis: "Mr. Davis — has there ever — by 
your consent — or with your knowledge — been 
paid — one cent of values in money or stock to 
any member of this legislature?" 

"No, sir." 

"That is all, sir," said Binney, with an air of 
vast satisfaction no actor could surpass. 

"Any one else a question ?" asked the chair- 
man. 

The first committeeman said: "As Mr. 
Davis will be recalled this afternoon, I will 
waive the questions which I had designed to 
ask him, till his recall. They refer to the trans- 
actions just mentioned." 

"That is all, Mr. Davis." 

Davis rose and went back to where Helene 
was sitting beside Evelyn, delighted with it all. 



1G4 ^ illcmbcr of i\]t ^Ijirb ^ouse. 

" Come, Helene, this is no place for you at all. 
You and Brooks go home. I'll come soon." 

Helene and the young man rose and tiptoed 
out, while the committee conferred among them- 
selves, and the sergeant-at-arms helped them to 
ice-water. The reporter at the central table 
rose with his hands full of copy. A colleague 
slid into his chair, and he made his way out of 
the room in order to have the testimony up to 
this point in the next edition. 

The chairman called the room to order. " Mr. 
Attorney-General, we are ready for your next 
witness." 

" I would like to ask Mr. Fox one or two 
questions." 

The delighted spectators sent forth another 
rustle of pleased expectation. Those who had 
heard Fox testify before communicated with 
those who had not. 

" He's a dandy ! I tell yeh, you don't ketch 
him off his guard. He's fox by name an' fox by 
nature." 

"Will Mr. Fox step forward?" said the 
chairman. 

Fox went to the seat for witnesses, with a 
bland smile on his face. 

" Mr. Fox, you knew, of course, all about the 
purchase of the motor scheme." 



^ iHfmbcr of tl)c ^Ijiri) C)Ousc, iny 

Fox replied glibly, very much at his ease: 
" In a general way I may say, yes — in a general 
way I did." 

"At the time?" 

" Yes, sir, in a general way." 

"In a general way you approved of it, of 
course ? " 

He meditated an instant. " Well, yes — yes, 
I think I may say I did." 

" You knew Mr. Mason personally, I believe ? " 

Fox threw one leg over his chair-arm. He 
had the appearance of loafing, as if he were tell- 
ing stories in a grocery. "Yes, through his 
wife, I may say ; she was a Burbank, of Lake- 
side. I used to teach school in Lakeside ; recol- 
lect very well when I first saw her. My maiden 
shingle had just been hung" 

" Spare us your biography, please," said the 
Attorney-General, coldly. "We can read that 
after you are hung." 

The crowd laughed. They were delighted to 
think the comedy element had begun to come in. 

" I was about to say " began Fox. 

The Attorney- General interrupted him impa- 
tiently. "I simply wanted to know if you knew 
him personally." 

" I do, because I was in" 



160 ^ illembcr of tl)c (?ri)lrl) fjousc. 

"That is sufficient. You approved of the 
amount paid to Mr. Davis, I suppose ?" 

"No, sir ; I considered it too much." 

"Yoi knew them better." 

Fox settled himself lower down in his chair. 
" I didn't think there was any money back of his 
scheme. I considered the use of electric motors 
questionable. I think Mr. Davis overestimated 
the entire opposition. I think he overestimated 
the lobby." 

"Very likely; one is apt to in such a case. 
Were you present when the transaction took 
place? " 

" No, sir ; I had a couple of cases in " 

"You don't know anything about the partic- 
ulars of the bargain, I suppose." 

" No, sir ; have no recollection of it." 

" Your mind is a mere blank on all matters 
of real importance to this committee." 

Fox smiled broadly. " I am unable to state, 
Mr. Attorney-General, what importance the 
committee places on my testimony." 

"You'll find out, sir. You testified the other 
day that you had paid out to various private 
parties, members of the Third House and oth- 
ers, large sums of money. Did you keep any 
account of these things ? " 

" No, sir ; no book account." 



^ iltcmber of i\)t ^Ijirb t)ousc. if.r 

"No book account? It was paid mainly by 
private checks or bills, I suppose ? " 

"Mainly, I may say, by bills." 

" Did you make any memoranda ? " 

" I kept private accounts with some of them, 
yes, sir." 

"I take it you are in the habit of paying out 
a good deal of money in this manner for the Air 
Line." 

"Yes, sir; as the attorney I have great 
liberty." 

"Too much liberty." He took a sheet of 
paper from Tuttle. " Now, sir, if I should say 
that already your agents have, by your own 
admission, received nearly fifty thousand dol- 
lars, and expect more, you'd be surprised, 
wouldn't you ? " 

" What at ?" replied Fox, coolly. 

" You would say it was too much, I presume." 

"I'd say it was fifty thousand dollars too 
much. We paid out this money from necessity, 
and it was not " 

"The Attorney-General faced him with a note 
of sternness in his voice. " Necessity is no 
excuse for violating the law, sir." 

" I have violated no law." 

"Can you say as much for your agents?" 
asked one of the committeemen. 



168 2, illcmbcr of tl)c ulljirb fjouse. 

"I'm not testifying- for them, sir. I'm not 
responsible for their acts," replied Fox. facing in 
his direction. 

"Let one of them turn State's evidence, and 
you'll have a chance to verify that," said the 
first committeeman. 

The Attorney-General glanced at the chair- 
man. " I think that is all, sir." 

"Any one else a question ? " asked the chair- 
man. 

During the pause Fox gazed around him 
smilingly, his thumb in his vest pocket his leg 
over the chair-arm. He was a very willing 
witness ; in fact, he embarrassed them with his 
confidence. 

"That's all, Mr. Fox. We're ready for the 
next witness." 

The Attorney- General meditated. Tuttle 
consulted with a scholarly young man who sat 
beside him. Once or twice he looked at Senator 
Ward and Evelyn. A look of pain, of appre- 
hension came over his face as he rose and went 
to Ward's side. 

"Do )'ou feel strong enough to speak? If 
you don't, we will adjourn till to-morrow." 

"No, I want to speak now. I never will be 
stronger," the old man replied, a look of high 
resolution on his face. Tuttle stood for an 



^ ilTfmbiT of tl)c (^l)irb C)otisf. inn 

instant irresolute. The dumb, appealing look in 
Evelyn's eyes shook him, but there seemed no 
other way, and he took his seat again. 

"We will rest our case here, Mr. Attorney - 
General, unless the committee desire to recall 
Mr. Tuttle for interrogation." 

" We thought that understood, Mr. Attorney- 
General," exclaimed the chairman, somewhat 
impatiently. " This committee is ready to hear 
Mr. Tuttle at any time, if he has anything more 
to state to the committee." 

This brought Tuttle to his feet, and he spoke 
sharply. "I want to be distinctly understood, 
Mr. Chairman. I stand here as a witness, subject 
to the committee's will. I'm not responsible for 
the committee's action, and I don't propose to 
be. I'm responsible for my own conduct in this 
affair, simply. I'm ready to testify at any 
moment in answer to questions from this com- 
mittee, but I have no statement to make. I will 
answer on the floor of the House for my conduct 
as a representative. I now await your action." 

A deep hush fell upon the audience, who saw 
now the subtle situation. The attempt of the 
committee to throw the burden and calumny of 
defeat upon Tuttle's shoulders had failed. 

" Mr. Tuttle, I don't know that the committee 



iro 2, iltembcr of i\)t ^Ijirb ^onst, 

has any questions to ask," replied the chairman, 
with considerable asperity. 

"Very well, sir," replied Tuttle. "I have 
nothing more to say. I have one more witness, 
however, overlooked by the Attorney-General — 
Senator Rufus Ward." 

The chairman looked surprised. The crowd 
murmured with interest. '' You ask Senator 
Ward's recall ? " 

" Yes, sir — Senator Ward," said the Attorney- 
General. 

" Senator Ward will please come forward." 

Ward rose slowly and came forward, followed 
by Evelyn's anxious eyes. Tuttle looked at her, 
and his heart weakened. 

" You've been sworn, I believe ? " 

" I have," he replied, in a low voice. Evelyn 
longed to go to his side and forbid him to speak, 
but there was a look on his face which awed her. 

The crowd seemed to scent something dra- 
matic in the air. Their interest hitherto was dis- 
order compared to the straining attention which 
they now gave to every movement and inflection 
of the committee and to the Senator whose recall 
had been demanded. 

"Will you be seated, sir?" said the chairman. 

Ward bowed, formally. "With your permis- 
sion, sir, I will stand." 



2. illnnbcr of tl)c iEljirb l^ouse. 171 

" Certainly, sir," replied the chairman, politely. 
Ward stood with his finorers resting on the table, 
facing the committee. " I'd like to ask the per- 
mission of the committee to make a statement." 

This request was understood to mean that he 
was not to be interrupted. " Very well, Senator ; 
there is no objection. State what you have to 
say in your own way," said the chairman, nod- 
ding- about to all the committee. 

Again he bowed to the committee, and began 
speaking in a firm, but low monotone : " Gentle- 
men and fellow citizens, I have a confession to 
make." A deathly silence fell in the room. Men 
leaned forward, straining their ears to hear. " I 
stand here after a week of sleepless debate, 
rising from a sick-bed, with a duty to perform. 
The orentlemen on this committee know how the 
taint of corruption has been thrown upon me. 
Slander has been busy with me, and, since my 
testimony on Tuesday, my brain has about worn 
out with the trouble of it all. My own self- 
defense, if nothing more, demands that I should 
stand here and testify." He paused. " I am an 
old man, gentlemen, nearing the grave, and I've 
been an honest man, as near as I knew. I haven't 
been a strong man, like the young man who 
stands here at the head of this investiofation. I 
had to take the world as I found it. I had not 



172 ^ iUcmbcr of tijc Sljirb Ciousc. 

his education, his easy position, and Hfe has been 
a war. But never mind that. If I was weak, I 
never wronged or entertained the idea of wrong- 
ing any human being, and I never failed in my 
duty till lately." 

He presented a great picture as he stood 
speaking without a gesture. His eyes were 
hollow, but full of light ; his face was very pale. 
He spoke with that natural eloquence, some- 
what formal, which a man of his stamp uses in 
making a public speech. His phrases were gen- 
tle, free from dialect and simple in construction. 

"Gentlemen, I stand here before you to-day 
bankrupt. My business, which I built up by a 
life of industry and enterprise, has passed out 
of my hands. To-day my wife and daughter 
are left without a cent." 

His voice broke. In the pause which fol- 
lowed a strange, sweet shudder ran over the 
room, like that produced by a tense moment 
on the stage. The sobs of women could be 
heard, so sincere and penetrating was the emo- 
tion in his voice. Evelyn gazed at him steadily, 
the tears streaming down her cheeks, her lips 
parted, her eyes wide, her hands knotted and 
pressed between her knees. 

"Won't you sit. Senator?" asked the chair- 
man, gently. Brennan and Fox could only 



^ iflcmber cf tl)i: ^Ijirir i)oust, 173 

glance at each other in wonder. Davis stared 
fixedly. 

"No, thank you, sir," was Ward's formal 
reply. 

"Pardon me. Senator," said the chairman 
softly, "but is it necessary to oro into these sad 
personal facts ? " 

Ward bowed again. 

" It is, sir. I need the palliation which they 
will bring to my offense. Gentlemen, it was 
while passing my sleepless nights, studying out 
these facts, trying to find a way out, that I was 
approached with a bribe." 

There was a stir and a flutter in the room, 
silenced by the gavel of the chairman. 

"My God, will he criminate himself?" asked 
Davis, his face turning a yellowish white. There 
was something in Ward's face that scared him. 

"Why in hell didn't you tell me of this ? " 
Binney replied. 

The chairman's gavel silenced them both. 

Ward continued : 

"Of course I knew bribery was all about me, 
but it had not reached me. But, at last, when 
the bill passed into the Senate, I was approached 
by a celebrated member of the Third House, 
who knew of the crisis in my business and 



I7t ^ illcmbcr of tl)£ ^l)irb §ouse. 

counted upon my necessity. He made an offer 
of money to me." 

There was a long pause, during which Ward 
turned his eyes upon Tuttle and then upon Eve- 
lyn, whose face was only a vague, luminous 
gray patch before his eyes. He tried to speak, 
and could not. His throat was dry ; his voice 
failed him. There came such tension into the 
listening ears of the spectators that reaction 
must now come. 

"Can you name that man?" asked Tuttle, in 
a tone that made the Senator straighten again. 

Ward lifted his head defiantly. " I can and I 
will. It was Thomas Brennan." 

After an instant of breathless silence a thun- 
derous applause broke forth. Men leaped to 
their feet, white with excitement. Oaths of 
admiration broke from their lips. The whole 
matter was now clear. Ward was sacrificing 
himself. 

Brennan leaped up, his eyes flaming with 
wrath. " He's a God-damned liar ! " 

Fox pulled him down. 

The chairman rose, beating the table furi- 
ously. The reporters toiled like mad. The 
liehtnine sketch artist caught Brennan's tio^erish 
leap with a few swift and powerful strokes of his 
pencil. 



;7l iHnnbcr of t\]t ®l)irb §ousc. 175 

At last the chairman secured silence. "We 
must have order. Proceed, Senator." 

Ward went on, still speaking- without a 
gesture. 

" He offered me ten thousand dollars cash if I 
would withdraw my opposition to the charter. 
He knew my terrible anxiety and counted upon 
it, and counted upon my — weakness, but I was 
stronger than he thought." 

"He lies — he took it ! " shouted Brennan, fur- 
iously, half rising from his seat, in spite of Fox, 
who had his hand upon his arm. 

"Will you sit down, sir!" commanded the 
Attorney- General, lifting his tall form above 
Brennan, and facing him with a look that awed 
the king of the lobby. 

Ward turned and faced Brennan with thrilling 
dignity. 

" Stand before this committee and say that, if 
you dare ! Say it under oath ! " 

He paused a moment, with the orator's in- 
stinctive knowledge of how to use a gfreat 
dramatic moment. His burning eyes fell upon 
Brennan with accusing force. 

"No, gentlemen of the committee, I did not 
take it, but I — I — temporized ; in my despera- 
tion I entertained it. Yes, I promised it, in my 
hour of weakness. That's my shame, my dis- 



176 2. illenibiT of % Sljirb €)oust. 

grace, and it was while I was sleepless with my 
necessity and my temptation that another man 
came to me, came into my house, came to buy 
my vote and influence — the great leader of the 
corporation himself." 

There was no need of the gavel now. Each 
man apprehended the entire situation. 

"Whom do you mean by that, Senator?" said 
Tuttle, and his voice startled the old man into 
speech again. 

" I mean the Iron Duke himself — Mr. Davis." 

The pent-up excitement of the spectators 
broke out into cheers and frenzied applause, 
whose climax of intensity showed their thorough 
appreciation of this supreme moment in the case 
of the prosecution. The chairman's gavel was 
powerless to silence it. 

Davis sprang to his feet, his face swollen, 
mottled red and purple with anger. He thrust 
his great fist into the air with a terrible gesture. 

"Mr. Chairman, he lies ! I swear to God he 
lies !" 

" Sit down," yelled the crowd. "Sit down, 
you thief ! " 

The chairman waved his gavel in the air, 
screaming at the top of his lungs. 

''Silence! Sit down. Clear the room. ^V-^ 
lence, I say I " 



% iHnnbcr of tl)c (Jljirii €)omc. 177 

The room fell silent only when it had ex- 
hausted its emotion throug-h utterance. 

" Keep your seat," said the Attorney-General, 
sternly, to Davis, as soon as he could be heard. 
" Go on, Senator. What proposition did Mr. 
Davis make ? " 

Ward's voice began to tremble a little. He 
passed his hand in a confused way across his 
face. 

" He said he was willing to expend fifty thou- 
sand dollars more to carry the charter. It was 
worth that to him. He said he must secure his 
charter in order to save what he had. He urged 
me strongly, and at last offered me fifty thou- 
sand dollars as a definite proposition if I would 
change six votes, including my own." 

Every word fell with terrible force upon 
Davis, whose white face and fixed eyes looked 
up at Ward as if he already sat a convicted 
criminal facing his judge. 

" I thank God I had the power to put the 
temptation aside, for it was a terrible temptation 
to a ruined man. It was not my strength — it was 
the strength of my daughter and this young 
man here. I knew if I took that off"er I could 
never look them in the face again. That saved 
me." He paused and put his hand to his head 
as if uncertain what to say next. 



178 C^ illcmbcr of tl)c (S^ljirlr ^ousc. 

There was a note of sarcasm in the chairman's 
voice as he asked : " Will you state, Senator, 
why you make this statement to-day and refused 
last Tuesday ? " 

His tone roused the Hon in the old man. He 
straig-htened up, and his eyes opened wide under 
his drawn brows, like a man who faces an assault. 
"The reason ! You might well ask why a man 
would stand here and testify to his own shame. 
I am here to-day, sir, because it is my duty and 
because my wife and daughter have taught me 
the duty I owe my State. Because I saw that 
this committee and its work was a farce and a 
by -word in the land." 

" What do you mean by that, sir ?" demanded 
the chairman, with a distinct threat in his voice. 

"I mean, sir, everybody said, 'They'll find 
nothing ; they'll never prove a single charge, and 
the road will get its charter.' I'm here, gentle- 
men of the committee, to say that if the confes- 
sion of a diseraced and ruined old man will bring 
these bribers to justice, I'll take whatever share 
of shame is coming to me." 

The cheering broke out again, falling into 
instant silence as the old man went on, stretch- 
ing out his hands appealingly to the audience, as 
if they represented the whole world, to whom he 
must send his case finallv. There was a certain 



^ illcmbcr of i\)t ©Ijirli §ous£. 179 

majesty in his action, and a fire of deep moral 
conviction in his burning eyes. 

" Citizens of our grand free State, shall it be 
said that one man or corporation rules our legis- 
lators ? " 

" No, no ! " burst out fifty voices. They were 
rising to the level of his conviction. 

" What is one man like myself compared to 
the purification that will come with the conviction 
of these wholesale bribers ? Gentlemen of the 
committee, I'm ready to be questioned — ready 

to be impeached. I'm not fit to serve" His 

voice grew husky. Evelyn, in voiceless agony, 
saw his strength was failing, but she could not 
speak. 

" I've told the truth, gentlemen. Those un- 
scrupulous men 7nusl be defeated. The people's 
rights must be preserved. Cross-question me 
— I'm ready — I shall be satisfied if — if I shall 
be" 

His head swayed ; he clung to the chair; his 
eyelids dropped a moment. Evelyn screamed. 
Wilson sprung to his aid. Everybody rose and 
rushed forward. 

" Silence \ Sit down ! Sergeant, clear the 
room ! Help the Senator to a chair ! " shouted 
the chairman and committeemen. 



180 :2l iUcmbcr of tljc (El)irb €)onst. 

"Out o' the way there! Let the girl 
through. Stand back ! Dammit, don't crowd ! " 

Evelyn forced her way through while the 
committeemen fought the crowd back. 

"Water! Stand off, there !" 

Silence fell as quickly as the tumult had 
arisen, and Wilson, who held the insensible 
man in his arms, was heard to say, in very 
quiet, formal tone, strangely thrilling : 

" Mr. Chairman, the Senator is in no condi- 
tion to be examined further. I ask permission 
to take him from the room," 

" Certainly. The sergeant-at-arms will see 
that the way is clear, and the room quiet." 

The committeemen resumed their seats, all 
but the chairman, who remained standing, 
while Ward was assisted out, followed by 
Evelyn. 

As the door closed on them, Davis leaped 
to his feet, furious with defeat, pitiless in his 
own extremity. 

"Mr. Chairman, I ask to be recalled. I can 
prove that man a liar and a drunkard ! " 

" Whack f" sounded the gavel. "Mr. Davis 
will keep his seat. The committee will confer. 
The sergeant will clear the room at the first dis- 
turbance. It must be quiet." 

The Attorney-General arose, fateful, introspec- 



^ iHnnbcr of tl)c (Jl)ir^ £jousc. isi 

tive, inexorable. " In the light of Senator 
Ward's testimony, Mr. Chairman, I desire to 
re-examine Thomas Brennan, Robert Bennett, 
Timothy Sheehan and James Holbrook." 

" The committee has decided to adjourn till 
to-morrow at two o'clock," said the chairman. 
The reporters seized their hats, swept their 
papers tog-ether, and rushed down the stairs. 

Tuttle, assisted by two or three bystanders, 
carried Senator Ward into a private room, where, 
under their care, he soon revived. The doctor, 
who had come in answer to the telephone mes- 
sage, smiled encouragingly upon Evelyn as he 
felt the old man's pulse. 

Evelyn flashed back upon him a faint smile 
of relief and gratitude. 

" Is he going to be very ill ? " 

" Oh, no ; I think not," said the young doctor, 
a handsome, smiling young man who had the 
absolute sureness of touch of a master, and an 
enthusiast in his art. " His pulse is growing in 
power ; he'll be quite himself very soon. A rush 
of blood to his head. Has he been over-exerting 
himself in some way ? " 

" He's been speaking passionately lately," 
Tuttle replied. 

"Ah, that explains it. He'll be all right pretty 



182 ^ fHcmbcr of tl)c ^l)irb lEiouse. 

soon. Get him home as quickly as possible, 
and keep him (juiet." 

As a matter of fact the Senator rested quite 
calmly on the steamer's deck on the way down 
to Waterside. Tuttle saw him safely seated in 
an easy-chair upon the boat, and said at parting: 
" I'll be down as early as possible to see you ; 
perhaps to-night. I wish you would send word 
to my mother that I'm all right, in case the ex- 
citement of the day should reach her." 

As he came back up the street the newsboys 
were crying : " Evenin' papers. All about 'vesti- 
gation," and everywhere men stopped him on 
the street with all sorts of wild suggestions as 
to the next step in the prosecution. 

" Jump on 'em, Tuttle." 

" You've made your point, sure as hell ! Never 
thought you'd make it in the world." 

" You never would if it hadn't 'a' been for 
Ward. Swipe 'em quick or you'll lose 'em sure." 

" Somebody else must do the 'swiping,'" he 
replied. " I've done my part. I've carried the 
whole of this investigation on my neck, and now 
I propose to let the prosecution go forward by 
way of the regular machinery of the State." 

" Oh, we'll all help you now, Tuttle," laughed 
one of the fellows whom Wilson knew to be 
friendly to the road. 



Chapter XIII. 

THE ROUT OF THE RATS. 

TN a room situated above Sam Brady's saloon a 
^ group of the members of the Third House 
were gathered in an atmosphere dim with smoke 
and foul with the reek of tobacco-spittle and the 
smell of beer and whisky. Crop-headed waiters 
from the saloon below dashed deftly to and fro, 
bringing platters of drinks from the bar to the 
groups of talkers seated in confidential attitudes 
upon the red-leather sofas and bar-room chairs 
of the room. 

The roar of the street outside made the din of 
talk within unintelligible. There had been no 
regular meeting called, but the general belief 
that this was the test day of the trial and that 
Tuttle was completely headed off brought them 
all together in a temper of general merriment. 
Sheehan was wildly drunk and was kept in check 
by Mark Brady, a shrewd, wiry little Irishman, 
the real, owner of the saloon, who ran up occa- 
sionally to keep careful watch upon the rising 

183 



184 ^ illcmbcr of tl)e (J:i)ir^ f)ouse. 

tide of intoxication, ready to utter a warning- at 
the proper moment. 

He called aside two or three of the more self- 
contained of the group and said: "Now see 
here, me Buccoes, it ain't safe. Yous don't 
want 'o grit swiped when y'r tongues 'r' loose. 
See? I can't affoord it. Not jist now. See? 
I can't affoord it if yous can." 

They promised to look after Sheehan and the 
others who had preferred to make a day and a 
night of it, and he went down below in answer 
to a telephone call. He came bounding up the 
steps, his weazened little face comical with fear 
and excitement. " The hell's t' pay now, sure ! " 

The rest made a rush for him. 

"What is it, Mark?" 

He jumped two feet into the air like a 
jumping-jack and uttered a string of Irish 
oaths before he could brinof himself to intel- 
ligible speech. "Ward has squeaked. Skip, 
every domned mother's son o' yez ! " 

A chorus of oaths and wondering cries broke 
forth. The men stared at each other as a 
nest of rats might, feeling the shock of corn 
shake over their heads. 

"They can't touch us, " said one. 

"Can't they?" sneered Mark, in unuttera- 
ble scorn. "The newspaper men'll be down 



2, illcmbcr of tl)c (Ill)irb fjousc. isr, 

on us like flies on a gum-bile. Hell ! They'll 
jail ivery hell's spawn o* ye if y' don't skip." 

"That's a fact," said old Cap. Baker. ''If 
they git one and he squeaks, we're all ripped 
wide open. I calc'late I need a Nova Scotia 
voyage. My health, it ain't been s' good as 
twas. 

"Scatter, iverybody ! " cried another powerful 
voice from the stairway. "Fox ain't to be 
trusted a minute." 

The most of them slipped out and down the 
stairway, and in less than ten minutes Mark was 
alone with his brother Sam, a man of large 
frame, with a prize-fighter's head and no feat- 
ures to speak of. 

"What'll they do, Sam?" asked Mark. 

"They'll arrest Brennan, Fox and the Gov- 
ernor and ivery cussed mother's son of us they 
can git their hands on. The air'll be full of im- 
paichments and criminal suits. The big fellers'll 
be bailed out afterward, av coorse, but that won't 
save us if they git anny hold on Sheehan. You 
see that he gits off, and clane this thing up," he 
said, looking about the room. " Dawn't lit 
annybody see it like this. See ? If Tom 
comes, tell'm he'll find me at home. Tell'm 
to skip quick as God'll let'm." 



18G CA iltcmbcr of tl)c (tl)irli ^ousr. 

From the moment that Senator Ward fell, all 
was confusion and apparent rout. Nobody 
knew how much somebody else knew, and 
especially how much he would tell. All cohe- 
sive power was lost from the ranks of the Third 
House and their coadjutors. Instantly all the 
lesser men disappeared like rats when the last 
sheaf is lifted. Every one of them distrusted 
Brennan and Fox, and expected them to impli- 
cate others, while Brennan and Fox felt equally 
sure that these petty offenders would turn State's 
evidence upon the slightest provocation, and 
that, as usual, each confession would involve 
greater names and reach more dangerous inner 
circles. Therefore, all became a retreat — a 
Waterloo. 

The papers, in each succeeding edition, con- 
tinued to vociferate in half-columns of head- 
lines : "Crushed at last!! Prosecute! The 
cry of the People ! Let it be heard ! Purge 
our Politics! Let every honest man throw aside 
party lines and help to banish bribery ! " And 
one paper, the Planet, cried out furiously, ''No 
bail ! — Down with the traducers of our State I " 

The arrest of Fox, Brennan and Davis fol- 
lowed quickly upon the return of the commit- 
tee's report, and both houses were in a tumult 
as member after member became implicated. All 



^ iUcmbcr of tl)c ^Ijirb i)omc. 187 

other business ceased. The public watched 
feverishly for each new edition of the paper, and 
read with savage delight of each succeeding 
arrest. But the scoop-net, thrown out just too 
late, brought in only a few insignificant and dis- 
reputable go-betweens, who hardly knew the 
parties to either side of the criminal transaction. 
They implicated others, however, and arrests 
followed slowly, and the law's approach, though 
gradual, hemmed Davis round like a wall of 
menacing fire. 

There were plenty of people now to surround 
Tuttle and take the work of prosecution out of 
his hands, for which he was grateful. He was 
genuinely alarmed for Davis, and still believed 
him to be more of a victim than a conspirator. 
Leaving the matter of the prosecution, there- 
fore, in the hands of the State, Tuttle hurried 
home to Waterside to see his mother and to 
reassure Helene. 

He found Mrs. Tuttle knitting tranquilly on 
the piazza, her serene old face reflecting the 
sweetness and serenity of her mind. No noise 
of the battle had penetrated into her placid nook, 
warmed with the sunshine of ease and maternal 
pride. Officious neighbors had called her atten- 
tion to the attacks made upon Wilson, but it 



1S8 ^ illcmbcr of tijc (iTljirb C)ou3c. 

needed only a word and a smile from her boy to 
reassure her. 

" Now don't you worry, mother," he had said 
to her, " no matter what people say or what the 
papers say. I am going- to be perfectly honest 
with you. I'll tell you just how matters stand 
every time." 

And with utter trust and pride she had lost all 
apprehension, and the evening paper with its 
scare-head first page lay unread, twisted like a 
doughnut, where the boy had flung it upon the 
piazza. 

Her ear, however, detected excitement in the 
sound of Wilson's footsteps, and she rose with 
a touch of quick anxiety. "What is it, my 
son? " 

" I've won, mother," he cried, joyously, as he 
ran up the steps. " Everybody is on my side 
now ! " 

She put her arms around his neck. She had 
a very vague idea of his victory, but thought it 
some sort of an election. " Well, I knew you 
would," she said, giving him a squeeze. "Now, 
come right in to supper." 

" I must go over and see Senator Ward first. 
How is he ? Have you heard ? " 

** No, I ain't heard nothin' except Nettie, 



^ illrmbcr of tl)c (Hljiri) tjousc. 189 

their girl, told our girl that he had come home 
again in a hack." 

"Well, he didn't come home this time in the 
way you think. He's a hero, mother. I'll tell 
you all about it when I come back." 

He found Evelyn sitting out under the trees, 
looking at the water, her large eyes full of bitter 
reverie. She rose as he came forward, and a 
quick flush rose upon her face. 

'"How is the Senator?" he asked before he 
reached her. 

"Better," she replied, with appreciable effort. 
" I left him resting very easy. His mind seems 
calmer than — Oh, what will they do with him, 
Mr. Tuttle ? " 

The keen agony in her voice made him pause 
before he slowly answered: "I don't think he'll 
be proceeded against criminally. He'll be im- 
peached, possibly, unless he resigns, which I 
suppose he will do. The impeachment will be 
a mere form. I firmly believe he has won 
respect for himself by his course. Everybody is 
speaking with admiration of his heroism. The 
papers " 

" I haven't dared to look at one," she replied, 
shrinking as if she expected a blow. 

" You needn't be afraid to. They're pleading 
already for clemency. They recognize the moral 



190 Q[ iUcmbcr of tl)c (^Ijirb fjouse; 

heroism of his position. Can I o-o in and see 
him ? Is he lying' down ? " 

''He was sleeping in his chair when I came 
out. I think he wants to see you. Perhaps 
you had better go in." 

She led the way into the house. Senator 
Ward was seated in his arm-chair near the win- 
dow, facing the sea. He turned his great dark 
eyes upon Tuttle inquiringly as Evelyn called 
his attention. There was something pathetic and 
full of pleading in the slow motion of his head. 

"Well, Senator, how do you feel ?" 

" Like a man shipwrecked, Wilson," he re- 
plied, smiling a little and putting his right hand 
out feebly. Tuttle took his hand and drew a 
chair up close beside him. 

" Don't be downhearted. Senator. Every- 
body has a good word for you to-night. The 
papers are full of it. In fact, you've quite robbed 
me of my laurels. Just listen to this ! " 

He read aloud from a paper which he took 
from his pocket: " If conviction follows, it will 
be due to the heroism of Senator Ward rather 
than to the work of Tuttle. The corruptionists 
prescuited a wall of brass to the enemy. The 
prosecution was helpless till Senator Ward, like 
another Winkelried, took the spears of the oppos- 
ing rank in his own bosom, and opened the way 



21 illnnbcr of tijc ©Ijirl) €)ovi3t. 19I 

for the hosts of justice. No fair man believes 
that Senator Ward was himself when he touched 
the offered gold " 

Ward groaned and turned his head away. 
The memory of his ineffable disgrace came back 
upon him with crushing weight, conveyed like 
this in the editorial column of a great journal. 
Tuttle saw it and again tried to comfort him. 

" Don't worry about the past, Senator," he 
said, putting his hand again into the old man's 
lax palm. "Look ahead. Things '11 straighten 
themselves. As soon as I get time, in a day or 
two, I want to sit down and go over your affairs 
and see if I can't help you." 

Ward was about to reply despairingly, when 
Mrs. Ward came in. 

"Good evenin', Mr. Tuttle," she said, a little 
stiffly. She had a sort of jealousy in her care 
of her husband, and she had an unreasoning 
repugnance to Wilson at the same time that she 
admired him. She could not forget that he was 
the apparent cause of all their trouble. 

He did not resent this, but sat a moment watch- 
ing her as shetried to induce her husband to eat. 

" Now, father, you know food '11 do y' good. 
You know 'twill. This chicking I fried m'self, 
and it's jest as tender as it can be, and the tea's 
jest right. I never had better luck," 



192 Qi iUcmber of tl)e $[f)lrb ^ousc. 

He submitted, and when she insisted on put- 
ting the napkin about his neck as if he were a 
baby, he was able to look out of the circle of her 
arms and smile faintly at Tuttle. 

" I believe she enjoys havin' me sick," he said. 

Tuttle laughed heartily, and the whole room 
seemed to lighten up. Mrs. Ward's ignorance 
of the political world was wonderfully whole- 
some, and, besides that, she carried with her an 
odor of comfort and home-cooking which was 
irresistible. 

Evelyn, hearing Tuttle laugh, came in wonder- 
ingly. 

Tuttle met her at the door. " The patient 
improves ! " he said, with a tone of voice which 
had the effect of a joyful shout. " Have you 
seen Helene ? " he asked of her, as they stood 
on the piazza. 

" No ; she has not been over lately. She had 
a lot of company from the Point to-day." 

" I'm going over now to see her," he returned, 
as he stood on the steps looking up at her. 
"Now, when I can find time I want to go over 
your father's affairs and see if I can't help you 
straighten them out for him. Let me do that 
much for him, won't you ? " 

" Yes, if you think it worth your while. I am 
afraid there is little left." she replied, in somber 



% Mmxbtv of tl)£ ^Ijirb (^ouse, 193 

fashion. As he walked away up the street she 
wondered whether this poHtical calamity would 
not bring Helene back to him, 

Tuttle went to see Helene and was astonished 
by her action. She ran to him like a child and 
hid her face in his breast. It drove all questions 
of public policy out of his mind. He just put 
his arms about her and kissed her hair, and 
called her name in the voice of one whom sud- 
den joy confuses. He said a good many things 
which were true, and some that were only com- 
forting. He assured her that her father was 
safe ; that his arrest was a mere form ; that he 
would be released on bail at once, and would be 
at home soon. He said he knew Mr. Davis had 
not been guilty. Fox and Brennan — at Bren- 
nan's name he hesitated as if there were some- 
thing to be explained, but she explained it all 
by simply nestling a little closer to him and 
putting her hands up about his neck. 

At last she looked up at him with her tear- 
inflamed eyes, 

" I know I'm a fright, but I can't help it. 
Everybody said he'd go to prison, and — and — 
I didn't have anybody — to — to cry to ! and I 
wanted to see you so. Don't go away till poppa 
comes — will you ? " 

" I must go home to dinner." 



191 ^ illcmbcr of tl)c ^\)iv^ Cjousc. 

" Oh, stay and take dinner with me ! There 
ain't anybody with me. The girls all went home 
when the papers came. Please stay," she pleaded. 

"Well, I will if you'll send word over to 
mother for me." 

When they went out into the beautiful dining- 
room she looked quite like her usual self. Care- 
ful bathing and powdering had removed the 
effects of crying, and she was irresistibly attract- 
ive to poor Wilson in her remorseful tenderness 
and her childish, helpless trust in him. She had 
put on an exquisite robe whose color was surely 
intended to aid in removing the effects of tears. 

They had a wonderful dinner, Tuttle thought. 
It made the events of the day seem like an opium 
dream. It seemed impossible that Davis should 
be connected with the Third House. It must be 
all a mistake. While they were eating their fish 
a telegram came to confirm this impression. 
Helene read it aloud: 

"Don't worry, pet. This is simply a political game. I'll not be 
down to-night. I am all right. Never mind the newspapers. 

"From P.M'A Davis." 

Helene kissed the telegram and laughed gaily 
when Tuttle suggested, with unnatural humor, 
that she might kiss the messenger boy too. She 
wrote a reply, and sent the boy away with an 
extra quarter instead of a kiss, and then they 



Qi ilTcmbcr of tl)c ®l)iriJ l5o«se. 195 

went on with their dinner with incredibly light 
hearts. 

Tuttle wondered where her aunt was, and said 
so. " It seems like a special dispensation of 
Providence that we are eating- dinner in this 
cozy way." 

" Well, it isn't ! " she laughed. " I told auntie 
not to come down, and that's the reason why." 

" How you must tyrannize over her. Are there 
any others waiting our superb leisure?" 

"Not to-night — only auntie. She does just 
what I ask her. She's a perfect love for a chap- 
erone. All the girls are perishing with envy 
over my freedom" 

"And her slavery." Tuttle was like a man 
inebriated with some divine stimulant — some 
rare and potent perfume — which had power to 
drive out age and care. He was scarcely older 
than Helene durino- that g^lorious evening-. He 
laughed when she chattered, and his talk was 
almost as gay as her own. 

When he went away at night he promised to 
call and see her in the morning on his way to 
town, and when he walked off down the moonlit 
lawn it seemed as if there were to be no dirofes 
for the slain mingled with the exultant songs 
of his great victory. He had Helene's love. 
Senator Ward was tranquil — happier than be- 



I9f) '3, illcmbcr of tl)e $[l)irb C)ou0c. 

fore his confession — and Davis, he still tried to 
believe, had been made use of by Fox and 
Brennan. He hummed a tune as he walked. 

It was only as he lay down in the quiet of his 
room that a mysterious look in Evelyn Ward's 
eyes came back to disturb him. He knew what 
it was. It was something he had met before, 
and it always filled him with a bitter rebellion. 
Must it always be so — that beautiful souls in 
plain bodies must suffer alone — must love in 
silence and defeat? 

The next mornintr, as he ate his breakfast, he 
read the leading- papers, which were black with 
huge head-lines still crying out for prosecution. 
One entire page was given to interviews with 
the senators, most of whom said that Rufus 
Ward must be impeached, but not prosecuted. 
There were also rumors that one or two of the 
guilty legislators had disappeared. Brennan, 
Fox and Davis had been arrested, and bailed 
out, of course, almost immediately. He stopped 
as he went by Davis' house, and left a note for 
Helene, begging her not to go up to the city ; 
that he would see the Iron Duke and bring him 
home to dinner sure. 

When he entered the committee-room he 
found it impressively quiet. It was no longer 
the lobby of a variety show. The committee 



^ illcmbcr of tl)c (J^ljirb C)OU0C. lor 

had ordered the doors closed against the pubhc. 
The prosecution now took its seat as master of 
the situation. The chairman now no lonsfer 
laughed at jokes by Tom Brennan. The king 
of the Third House had been dethroned. Bin- 
ney had waked from his dozing. Fox and Davis 
were absent. Most of the witnesses now had 
the solemn air of prisoners. The only men who 
appeared precisely the same as before were the 
first committeeman and the Attorney- General, 
who was as deliberate and apparently as benig- 
nantly uninterested in the case as ever. His 
face betrayed neither haste nor anxiety. 

A few witnesses were examined swiftly and in 
deadly earnest by the first committeeman and 
the chairman, who had become ferociously op- 
posed to the road. His zeal was unequaled. 

At last the Attorney-General rose to speak. 
He balanced his glasses between his thumb and 
finger, and said with impressive placidity: " Our 
work, Mr. Chairman, is practically over." He 
put on his glasses, looked at a slip in his hand, 
then gazed about upon the committee over the 
tops of his glasses with kindly interest, as if to 
include them all in his triumph. "We have 
proved the guilt of the various gentlemen whom 
we named at the beginning as principals, and have 
shown that the Third House does exist and is 



198 ^ iUcinbcr of tl)c (Jl)irii Oousc. 

subsidized. The law of the State will now take 
care of it. We have proven that Senator Ward, 
Senator Holway and several legislators have 
been tampered with. Their impeachment lies 
with the members of this legislative body. An 
era of reformation has begun. The credit of its 
beginning and its success is due to this young 
man at my left. And now, gentlemen, I can't 
close without a word of moral. The cure of this 
is suggested in the conviction. So long as 
legislators have the power to vote public values 
into private pockets the lobby will continue to 
exist, and its damninpf work will be seen in the 
ruin of men like Senator Ward and Mr. Davis ; 
for, as I conceive it, he is a victim of corruption 
as well as himself being a corrupting agent." 



Chapter XIV. 

THE IRON DUKE RECKONS WITH HIMSELF. 

T^HERE come moments in a man's life when 
■■^ he sits down and reckons with himself. It 
is usually at night, just before going- to bed, 
when the house is silent and the outside world 
very dim and insubstantial. At such moments a 
man wants to be alone ; wife nor children nor 
mother is welcome. The soul is calling out for 
an unbroken moment of introspection, wherein 
to readjust values and start in anew. 

In such an hour the man stands for what he 
really is, an infinitesimal insect, lost in a swarm 
of similar flecks of life produced by this decay- 
ing globe of ours. In such an hour Napoleon 
looked down at himself and saw that he was an 
undersized man with an abnormally developed 
head. In such moments it must be that the 
billionaire marvels at the conjunction of forces 
that has made for him hundreds of millions, and 
sees himself a small man, differing from the 
type, as one blackbird differs from another, by a 

fraction of an inch. 

199 



200 ^ iUcmbcr of tl)c (ill)irb f)ousf. 

Sitting' alone at night in a farm-house-, with 
the whippoorwill's infinitely pathetic note float- 
ing in on the sweet summer wind, with the in- 
comprehensible stars swinging their appalling 
circles in the silence of the upper air, Herbert 
Spencer's mighty brain might say, "What is it 
all ? And what does it matter ? "' 

Lawrence Davis was not a philosopher. He 
had not been a thinker. Like most men of his 
type, he had lived such a life of material activity 
and narrowness that his hours of reckoning with 
himself had been few and short. His life, 
momentous as it seemed to him, was narrow, 
grooved and fruitless. It returned upon itself 
At sixty years of age he was breaking, evidenced 
by his purple face, his snow-white hair, his pro- 
truding stomach, and the clumsy use of his feet 
and hands — and all this at a time when his 
affairs were most insecure. Everything which 
he called his was at this moment out of his 
reach. 

His whole business life and possessions were 
founded upon a vested wrong, which he per- 
sisted in arguing was a vested right. It could 
endure only so long as the conscience of the 
people slept. He was like a man whose vine- 
yard is on the slope of Vesuvius, with this 
difference : that the voice of the thunder had 



^ ilTfmbfr of tijc (Jl)irb C)OU0C. 201 

not spoken from this particular throat, but only- 
threatened it now for the first time. 

When the hand of the law was laid on his 
shoulder came the first grreat mental shock, and, 
indeed, a physical shock, which nearly laid him 
dead of apoplexy. For hours he lay like a man 
stupefied with drink, confused, and uncertain of 
action. When he appeared before the court he 
staggered. He was bailed out promptly, of 
course, by other officers of the road. His first 
care was to wire Helene that there was no 
danger. He fancied her alarmed, and he wished 
to spare her as long as possible. Every time 
he thought of her he shook. 

He was appalled at the change in the tone 
of the press. There was something awful in 
the desertion of his aids, in the dispersion of 
those who had swarmed about him, eaeer for a 
share of the spoils. He knew that this was a 
common experience, but it appealed to him with 
.startling power, nevertheless. Even the few 
friends who met him on the day following his 
arrest and release on bail, though they shook 
hands with him, carried something in their eyes 
which angered and irritated him, made him de- 
sire to be alone. As night fell, he sat in his 
great gloomy, silent house on Courtney Street, 
at his desk in his library, writing with a dogged 



20-2 vl fllcmbcr of tijc Sljirb f)ousc. 

and persistent haste that told he had set himself 
a task which must be finished within a limited 
time. 

It was cool and close in the house, but outside 
it was very hot, and the fat policeman walking- 
the deserted streets wondered why it was that 
in one part of the city people should be sleeping 
in the gutters for the lack of room, and this part 
of the city be deserted, and miles of windows 
and doors boarded up. Luckily, he was able to 
shake his head and give it up as insoluble. 

The curtains and blinds of the Iron Duke's 
superb library were closely drawn, and no light 
shone out into the hot murk of the night. It 
was about ten o'clock, and the house was ver)- 
silent. The floor was littered with scraps of 
paper, and little tin boxes spilled their contents 
on chairs and carpet. Over his head the single 
flower-like electric lamp depended, and its pale 
blue light accentuated the bluish splotches on 
his face. His attitude and action denoted des- 
perate haste. 

A far-off train whistled, and he listened uncon- 
sciously, the pen held between his fingers. The 
clock striking ten aroused him, and he rose and 
walked to the private telephone near his desk, 
which he rang furiously. 

"Hello! What's the matter? — Oh, is that 



^ illciubcr of tl)c Qlljiri) i^oiisf. -ias 

you, Mrs. Fox ? Has he come in yet ? — He 
hasn't ? Didn't he send any word to me ? 
— Well, that's singular ! If he comes, will you 
tell him I'm at my house ? I say, tell him I'm 
here. But — wait a moment, please. If any 
one else inquires, tell 'em I'm down to the 
beach. That's all." 

He turned away with a muttered oath, clench- 
ing his hands and speaking through his teeth. 
"Damned coward! He's left me." 

A knock was heard at the door, and, at his 
word, Robert entered. His face had the same 
calm, judicial expression, his voice soft and 
deep, his enunciation precise. His manner dif- 
fered in no way from his usual manner in the 
office. Davis turned to him with pleasure. 

" Ah, Robert ! What's the latest news ? " 

"I can't find Fox or Tom, sir." 

" What do you think of it ? What does it all 
mean ? Have they skipped ? " 

" It looks like it, but they may be keeping 
quiet here in the city. If they don't report to- 
morrow " 

"Well, what do you think? Have they gone 
back on me? Come now." 

Robert mused a moment. " Well, I shall know 
by the time I get back to the office. Tve sent 
out some detectives to various parts of the city 



204 ^ illcmbcr of tl)c (Jljirb C)ousf. 

where they are likeliest to be found. I'll tele- 
phone you the result, and. by the way, be careful 
how you use the telephone. The damp air in- 
creases the induction. Our private wire isn't 
very private. I'll tell you through King's name. 
If I say Smith has gone to the beach, you'll know 
Fox has skipped. Brown will stand for Tom. 
See?" 

" All right, Robert. It looks pretty bad for 
me, doesn't it, Robert ? " he asked, with a sudden 
longing for sympathv, as the young man turned 
away. 

"Yes, it does," admitted Robert. "But I 
think you'll pull through, all the same. I 
haven't been on the street to-day, but I hear — 
I hear there is great excitement up at the Capitol. 
Senators are being impeached. The papers are 
full of it, of course. Anyhow, there's nothing 
gained by getting worried," he concluded, in an 
attempt to be of comfort. 

" I wish I had your head to-night, my boy," 
replied Davis. ''Mine is almost useless. Well, 
now, keep me posted on all that goes on at the 
office. Let me know the worst, won't you ? 
Don't keep anything from me at all." 

" All right, sir. Everything is going on just 
as usual, and I think the public feel the effects of 
that. Good night, sir. You had better go to 



:^ iUcmber of tl)£ Sljirb ^ouac. 205 

bed and try to get some sleep. I shall stay at 
the office until twelve. In case anything impor- 
tant turns up, I'll let you know. Good night." 
"Good night, Robert. I wish all were as 
trusty as you are. Good night." 

After Robert had gone Davis returned to his 
desk and sat leaning with his head on his hands. 
While sitting thus there came another knock at 
the door, and the housekeeper entered. 

" Shure is there annything more I can do, sir ? " 
" Nothing, Mary — only don't bother me." 
"Then so be y' dawn't moind, sir, I'll be goin' 
to bed, shure." 

" Very well. Where's Tim?" 
" He went out to the theater, sir." 
" Well, perhaps you had better stay up till he 
comes. Then be sure you lock up.'' As he 
talked he was searching among his papers and in 
his pockets as if he had lost some important 
document. He arose at last as if looking for 
something. 

Mary looked around in wonder. She began 
to fear for her master. He was not like himself. 
The bell rang, and she started. 

"Well, now ! Who's callin' this time o' 
niaht ? " 

After she had gone out into the hall Davis 
came back into the room, feeling in his pockets 



206 ^ iHcmbcr of tl)c ii:l)irb Cjoivsc. 

asfain, lookinor about the desk, and went out 

o ' o 

again, muttering to himself. 

Mary re-entered, with Helene. "Shure, Miss, 
he's been jist at his desk since noon. It's crazy 
he do be gettin' wid his wroitin'. Not a drop 
o' tay nor a crumb o' bread has he had 
this noight, and me wid the supper all on the 
table for him. ' Don't bodder me,' says he, 
wavin' his hand. ' I'm a wroitin',' says he. 
' You better be atin',' says I." 

Helene, who looked radiantly happy, was 
drawing off her gloves. "Nothing to eat? 
Why, he must be awfully worried. I'll make 
hiin eat. You see if I don't." 

"Mary, didn't I hear the bell?" said Davis, 
re-entering. He seemed startled and surprised 
at sight of Helene. 

" What are you doing here this time of the 
nicrht ? Didn't I " 

Helene went up and put her arms about his 
neck. "Now, don't scold. I couldn't stay down 
there all alone with you up here in this gloomy, 
musty old house. Why, how pale you are ! 
Are you sick ? " 

"No. Did you come alone? How'd you 
happen to come, anyhow?" 

"Now, don't be cross, poppa. I came be- 



01 illfiubcr of tl)c Sljirb ^oxisl 207 

cause Wilson said I'd better. He said you 
might need me." 

Davis stared at her. "Wilson said I might 
need you ? What else did he say? Tell me," 
he added, sternly. 

"Don't look so cross. I'll shake you if you 
do," she said, with a pretty assumption of 
authority. " He said you were alone up here 
and worried, and — and so I came right up with 
him. Now you tell me all about it. Mary said 
you hadn't had any supper." 

Davis turned away. " I've got something 
else to do besides eat. Besides, I don't feel 
like it." 

Helene stamped her foot and wrinkled her 
brow. " But you must eat. Now, I'm going to 
get you something, and you've got to eat it, sir. 
I'm not going to have you write and write and 
go to bed without any supper." 

" I can't eat, child. I'm too busy," Davis said, 
in a gentler tone. '^ Besides, you — you'll bother 
me." 

"No, I won't. Just a cup of chocolate. I'm 
going to make it on that lovely little alcohol 
stove. Come, now ; it will help you to sleep. 
And I'll roast some crackers " 

" Sleep ! I wish I could sleep. Very well, 
bring in your things, and make it here by me 



208 '^ illcmbcr of tl)c (^l)lrb f)ousc. 

while I work. I've got some more writing- 
to do." 

Helene clapped her hands childishly. The 
novelty of camping down in this great house 
pleased her. " Oh, that'll be fun ! And I know 
it'll do you good." 

" Well, well ; now go about it, and don't talk to 
me too much," Davis said, returning to his desk, 
after his concession. 

Helene went out, and soon re-entered, accom- 
panied by Mary, who carried a platter containing 
milk, hot water, etc. They arranged a little 
table, while Davis worked on at his writing. 

" Now, poppa, the chocolate'll be ready in a 
few minutes, and we'll have a little supper 
here just as cozy as can be. I don't need you 
any more, Mary ; you can go to bed now." 

After the girl went out, Davis rose from his 
desk, came over, and seated himself in an easy- 
chair near Helene. 

" Helene, my girl, I wish you'd stayed down 
at the beach with Evelyn and Tuttle. I think 
you ought to. Do you feel just right about 
your trouble with Tuttle ? " 

Helene tried to look very stern. 

"Why, he's made all this trouble — how 
should I " 

Davis rose and walked the fioor. " He wasn't 



3. ilTcmbcr of tl)e (El)irb f)ousc. 209 

to blame. He was only doing what I should 
have done in his place. I wasn't to blame, either. 
I was obliged to do what I did. It's the cursed 
condition of things — that infernal band of high- 
waymen up there — that pushed me into it." He 
came back to her. " If I'd been successful, I 
don't believe I could have seen you marry Tom 
Brennan, and now — well, he's no man for you. 
Here's a man. Read that." He handed her a 
letter of Tuttle's which she read aloud : 

" Mr. L. B. Davis. 

" Dear Sir : I write to say that I was deeply pained and sincerely 
surprised at the result of our investigation. I did not expect to involve 
you in any criminal transaction. I write now, hoping you will under- 
stand my position. This question is above personal friendship, above 
personal choice. But I would like to serve you in any honorable way, 
and as a friend, if I can do anything for you, or for Helene, make use of 
me. Believe me, yours, 

" Wilson Tuttle." 

Helene wrinkled up her brows in a vain effort 
to fathom it all. " I don't understand it at all — 
it's a dreadful mix — only the spirit of it. It 
sounds noble, just like him, though." 

She suddenly threw her arms again about his 
neck. "Poppa, I want you to do something for 
me. Will you ? Will you ? " 

Davis took her tenderly on his lap, and said 
gravely : 

" I can tell better after I know what it is." 

Helene put her face down on his breast. For 



210 ^ iUcmbcr of tl)e ^l)irli C)ousc. 

some inscrutable reason she seemed to be embar- 
rassed and timid. " But I'm afraid — I mean, I 
must tell you — that I saw Wilson to-day — 
alone." 

"Well, I've no particular objection." 
Helene sat up on his knee and pulled at his 
coat-buttons. "But, on the way up — I — have 
made it all up with him. Oh, I've been just 
about sick, poppa, ever since that day — you 
remember — but I begged his pardon — and he 
thought he was doing right — and I had to for- 
give him, though I didn't V.no\N exactly what he'd 
done." 

She ended in her usual inconsequential way. 

" And what about Tom ? Didn't you " 

"That's just it," she went on, wildly. " I want 
you to tell Tom that I didn't really mean — that 

I didn't really know what I ' 

Davis smiled a little in spite of himself. "I'm 
to tell him that you want to back out? " 

" Oh, you make it so vulgar by saying that." 
" Well, that's what we'd call it in business. 
Well, now, don't you worry. It'll come out all 
bright and happy for you." There was a touch 
of emphasis upon yoji, which, though lost upon 
Helene, had a world of meaning in it. "Now, 
you must go to bed and don't worry about me. 



a ilUmbcr of tl)£ ^n^ tjousc. 211 

I'll come out all right. They ain't going to hurt 

me." 

"Poor poppa! But you're so worried. I 
know you are. Your forehead is all wrinkled 
up. I'll smooth it out just as I used to, if you'll 
promise not to wrinkle it up again." 

' She touched with her lips the scowl of batde 
on his forehead, and then laid her cheek down 
on his shoulder. " It seems so selfish in me to 
be happy when you're in trouble, you dear, dear 
old poppa. But I'm just a little girl to-night. I 
can't think of anything, I'm so happy. I won- 
der if all girls act so silly when they " She 

sat up suddenly. "Wouldn't society stare to 
see me sitting in your lap like a baby ? I don't 
care ! You're all the poppa I've got, and I'm 
your little mother, you know, and I ain't going 
to let you worry. That's what I promised 
mamma, don't you remember ? " 

This completed the suggestion whiclv began 
with the touch of her lips to his forehead. He 
broke down into a groan that was almost a 
wail. " Oh ! my God ! Don't talk that way, my 
child ! You'll break my heart ! " 

He drew her convulsively down upon his 
breast, and laid his cheek upon her hair. 

"Don't chatter so like a child. You make me 
crazy, thinking of her. Oh, I wish the whole of 



212 :2l iUcmbcr of tl)e ^\)xvl ^ousc. 

my damn business had sunk before I'd got into 
this! Why couldn't I have been contented ? " 

Helene started up again and looked into his 
face, with more of a realization of this trouble 
than before. " Why, father, wh — what's the 
the matter ? Have I said anything ? " 

" No, no. Don't mind me. Put your head 
down on my shoulder again. I'll speak to Tom 
when I see him. I never felt right about that. 
I knew you didn't mean it. But Tom was use- 
ful to me, and so I — but no matter now. I'll 
sleep better to-night if I know that you and 
Wilson have come to an understanding. Now 
you better go to bed yourself. You need sleep." 

" Oh, I can't sleep, I'm so happy. Only 
I'm worried for you." She leaped up at the 
sound of the water boiling and made him a cup 
of chocolate, talking, as she did so, with many 
gestures and attitudes. At last she handed him 
a cup and saucer, which he held, sipping while 
they talked, 

" Now, I know that'll do you good." 

"Well, now, don't worry about me. I'll come 
out all right. And, whatever happens to me — 
I mean whatever anybody says of me — don't 
you forget that I did what seemed the best 
thing." 

" Of course not. But, oh, poppa, I'm so happy 



'2r ilUmbcr of tijc (S^l)iri> Cjousc. 213 

and relieved ! You know, when you've cared 
for one person, and didn't dare to think so, and 
then got angry and promised another person 
that you didn't care so much about, and then, at 
last, made up with the first person, and feel now 
that you can like him all you please — oh, it's so 
delicious and relieving, don't you know ? " 

**Yes, yes, I know. I've been a girl! And, 
now, run along like a good little child. I'll sip 
my chocolate while I write. It's been a great 
comfort to see you once more." 

"Poppa, there's something in your voice that I 
can't understand. What are you thinking of?" 

" Well, for one thing, I'm thinking you're en- 
gaged now, and you can't be my little mother 
much longer." 

" It won't make the slightest difference, not 
the teeniest bit," she protested. But he knew the 
inevitable separation had already begun. 

"You'll see. And now, o-ood nio-ht." 

He stood gazing after her for a long time, 
drew a deep sigh, and resumed his stern manner. 
He took up a bundle of papers and looked over 
one or two of them, glanced at a newspaper, 
crushed it in his hand, and thrust it violently into 
the waste-basket At last he took a revolver 
from his desk and looked at it in a curious, 
shrinking, yet fascinated; way. How easy it 



2U ^ illcmbcr of tl)c i^lfn^ Cjousc. 

would be to escape it all — if it were- not for 
Helene — was the dark undercurrent of his 
thought. As he sat thus, Helene. with her hair 
unbraided and slippers on her feet, re-entered 
noiselessly and approached him in roguish 
stealth. She gave a gasp of instinctive fear. 
" What are you doing with that ? " 

Davis started like a criminal. His hands 
shook while putting the revolver back into the 
drawer. "Oh, I was just — I was just — look- 
ing to see if it was loaded — that was all. I — 
you see burglars are getting thick. Two or 
three houses were entered last night." 

He overshot himself in his explanations. 
Helene clung to him in fright. " Burglars ! Oh, 
horrors ! I sha'n't sleep in my room to-night ! — 
I shan't. You must let me sleep next to you in 
the blue room, won't you ? — and leave your door 
open ? " 

" Now, now, don't be foolish," said Davis 
hastily. "I had no business to say a word 
about it. There ain't the slightest danger with 
Tim and me in the house. Sleep in the blue 
room if you wish. I'll leave the gas burning in 
my room, if it'll give you any comfort. What 
did you come back for, anyhow?" 

Helene forgot her fear at this question, and 
grew rosy with some new thought, " I forgot 



^ iHrmber of tl)c Sljirb ^ousc. 2lo 

to tell you he made me promise for next 
spring"." 

" Who did ? " inquired Davis, abstractedly. 

"Why, Wilson, of course." 

" Oh, yes, yes ! I see, I see ! Next spring, 
eh? Very well, I've no objections." 

"But it seems to make you sad," pouted 
Helene. " I won't marry at all if you don't 
want me to." 

"There, there! Don't mind. I was only 
thinking of your mother, and of Lawrence. 
He would be twenty-five now, and she forty- 
eight. Now go to bed this minute." He put 
his arm about her and half carried her out of 
the room. 



Chapter XV. 

BRENNAN SACRIFICES HIS MUSTACHE. 

DRENNAN had the temperament of the 
-*— ' orambler, who is able to play with impassive 
face" whether he loses or wins. When luck is 
against him he stops, goes on a journey, or does 
some penance, and resumes play again when he 
thinks luck is appeased, without bitterness and 
without losing faith in himself or in his God. 
The possibility of defeat has been taken into 
account. Brennan, having played with luck on 
his side so long, did not consider everything lost 
because the tide now seemed to set the other 
way. He went into temporary retirement and 
studied affairs with vigilant eyes. He did not 
underestimate the gravity of the crisis, but he 
had confidence in himself and in fate. As a 
young man he could face darker hours with 
surer return of hopeful spirit than Davis. 

He saw that this was no common storm. He 
was student enough to see that it was an out- 
break of popular indignation. It could not be 
silenced ; it must be ridden out as ships ride out 

3X6 



'j[ illnnbcr of tl)c (Jl)iri) Cjouse. 217 

a gale. He saw this because he came more into 
contact with the crowds of people who were 
thinking upon these reforms than Davis, and he 
saw their growing hate in their eyes as he passed 
them on the street. He read ominous prophecy 
in the changed tone of the press of the whole 
country, which he studied from day to day as a 
physician feels the pulse of his patient. He 
knew that these papers were sure indications of 
a revolt. 

There came a moment when he abandoned 
retirement and sought obscurity. He thought 
a stranger in the hotel lobby one night was 
looking at him stealthily. It was an impression 
rather than a belief, and would have passed 
away had not the bartender uttered a friendly 
word. 

" Say, Tom, what're y' doin' wid de Pinker- 
ton daytective follerin' yeh like a body-gyard ? 
Your riyal nibbs is gettin' to be a regular Jay 
Gould." 

Tom looked at him sharply. "Detective? 
Where ? " 

" W'y, his nobs over dere in de w'ite pants. 
I never see him 'cept w'en " 

Brennan was startled. "Oh! don't notice 
him. I'm onto him. Say, where are the boys, 
Sam?" 



218 ^ fllcmbcr of tl)c ^l)lrb ^ouse. 

"Ain't seen anny of 'em. Tom. Dey've 
skipped — gone up de river. See? If I was 
you I'd take a chase." 

Brennan leaned against the bar carelessly, 
but he said : 

" Is his leglets there yet ? " 

''He's stepped outside. He's talkin' wid a 
big duffer in a gray hat." 

"Say, Sam, I'm going up-stairs. I won't be 
down till night. Here's what I owe yeh. If 
anybody asks where I'm gone, say I went out 
the side door. See?" 

" I'm a-listenin', Tommy. Go to my house. 
Tell my wife I sent yeh, and I'll be up soon. I 
ain't a-goin' back on Tom Brennan. See ? " 

Brennan slipped back of the bar and through 
a side door, and when the man in the light-col- 
ored trousers looked in again Sam was mopping 
the bar and Brennan was gone. 

Brennan saw the whole situation. His bonds- 
men were getting alarmed, distrustful, and had 
put a man on his track. He put a bill into Sam's 
hand when he came up to supper. 

" If Fox comes in put him onto the game. Do 
it careful. All you need do is say, 'Tom says: 
" Bail no good," ' see ! " 

" Dat's all straight, Tom." 

When it grew dark Brennan went to his own 



2. ilTnnbcr of tijf (Illjiri) Cjousc. 210 

room and packed his smaller articles into a trunk. 
This he marked to go by express to a point near 
the line, and, with a half-dollar to the janitor, got 
it carried down unnoticed. He then left the 
house with a cane in his hand, as if going for a 
stroll, and walked rapidly away into the poorer 
quarter of the city. He was quietly dressed in 
dark clothes, and wore the characterless Derby 
hat, and felt safe from espionage. 

He walked on down into the region of cheap 
apartment hotels, hideous with their peeling plas- 
ter and their doorways like the mouths of caves. 
Reaching one of these square, hot and dingy 
brick structures, he mounted its dim and clammy 
stairway to Suite 20, and rang a bell. A woman 
came to the door. Her face was in the shadow, 
but the light shone through her fluff of yellow 
hair. 

" Hello, Tom ! " she said, in a pleasant contralto. 
" You're a pretty fellow. Come in. Why haven't 
you been down ? You're a nice boy," 

"Always knew it, Pat," he said, as he entered. 
She put his hand away from her neck. 

" What're you doing these days? Sit down 
and tell me all about it." 

She led the way into a tiny sitting-room, 
filled with cheap furniture, brilliant in color. 
She was a pleasant-faced woman, though worn 



220 ^ illcmbcr of tijc illjirb Cjousc. 

and no longer young. She smiled cheerily at 
Tom. Her wrapper was not at all tidy, but it 
trailed handsomely down her fine figure. 

" Glad to see you, Tom. What's up ? " 

"You will persist in thinking the visit 
extraordinary, Pat." 

" Why shouldn't I ? When were you here last ? 
Six months ago." 

"Where's Sir John?" 

" Gone to the theater with the girls." 

She was looking at him sadly. 

" You're in for it, my boy," she said. " Your 
young career is cut off. You must either endure 
the crisp Canadian air — or languish." 

"I never languish. How do you know? 
What makes you think " 

" I read the papers, Tom. VVell, now, what 
can I do for you? You never come to see me 
now unless you need help." 

Her tone was curiously tender, a mixture of 
cameraderie and a sort of maternal regard. With 
that look on her face, she was beautiful in spite 
of her dingy lace and untidy hair. 

" Cleopatra, you're a great woman ! Well, I 
need a razor, some advice, a priest's cloak and 
hat and a safe messenger boy and some money. 
I can pull through all right on that. I must get 
word to some of the boys, Rob or Mart." 



^ iUcmber of tl]£ Sljirb ^onst, 221 

"All right, Tom. I can get it all but the 
money. Lucky the others are away. I'll get 
out Sir John's razor and things." 

In a few moments Tom was standing before 
the glass, razor and scissors about him. He 
sighed comically. "Say, Pat, this is the most 
unkindest cut of all." 

She understood him. "Too bad, Tom; your 
mustache is a daisy. What'll s/ie say ? " 

"It'll be grown out again before she sees 
me." 

In spite of himself there was a plaintive droop 
in his voice. Brennan snipped away while she 
sat watching him a moment. 

"Terrible, terrible! Well, I'll slip over to 
your uncle's and see what I can swipe together 
for you." She pinned up her skirt and put on a 
waterproof cloak and went out. 

When she returned Brennan sat reading a 
newspaper, his feet on a chair, his coat and vest 
hanging on the knobs of the bureau. She stood 
lookine at him in amazement. 

" Why, Tom, you look like a boy. My God, 
how old you make me look ! " 

She dropped the package which she held 
in her hands, and passed her fingers over her 
face as if to feel the hollows there. The tears 
started to her eyes. 



222 ^ illcmber of tl)e ^l)irb C)0U5t. 

"There, there, Cleo, don't go off like that ; 
you make me /ee/ Hke a boy on the point of 
blubbering-. Say, Cleo, how would a Canadian 
excursion agree with you, eh ? " He had an ob- 
scure idea of comforting^ her. 

She shook her head sadly and grimly. " No 
more such talk to me. I'm sick of it — I sup- 
pose you don't know I've had a fever?" 

He looked a little ashamed. "Yes, but Tve 
been so busy " 

" Well, I've been thinking." 

" Fact ? " stared Tom. 

"That's a fact," she replied without emotion, 
her eyes upon his upper lip, which was so sin- 
gularly boyish, shorn of its mustache. "And 
when a woman like me really thinks, it changes 
her." 

"Well," he said, with a sigh, after a pause. 
"If you won't, you won't, that's all. I'd like to 
have you go, because you're good company. 
You're a thoroughly good fellow, Cleo, that's 
what you are. You've got more brains than any 
woman I ever knew. Now that's straight goods. 
You may gamble on my sincerity. Well, now, 
just a sisterly hug, and then I'm off." 

There was a grave sadness in her eyes as he 
rose to go. " Now don't get mixed up in any 
more of these infernal bribery cases," she said. 



^ iUcmbcr of tl)c Sljirb t^ousc. 223 

"You may gamble on that too," he said. 
" Well, now, take care of yourself Oh, about 
getting word to Rob ; can't you go down and 
see him yourself? He'll be at the private office 
in the Commercial building. It will be awful 
o-ood of you, Cleo, because, you see, it's life or 
death, and if you took it in hand I'd feel certain 
it would be done." 

"Yes, I'll go, Tom. I wouldn't go out of this 
house, though, for anybody else to-night." 

" I know it, honey ! Well, so long ! If you 
ever feel like trying the Canadian air, let me 
know through Rob. Good-by ! " 

He had an irresistible desire to take a turn 
around Newspaper Corner and see what was 
going on. It was a distinct theatrical impulse 
to try the effect of this disguise, in which he 
took delight. He walked rapidly along the 
avenue leading toward Newspaper Corner. He 
was not sufficiently reckless to ride in a horse- 
car, though he actually stepped upon the plat- 
form of one before he remembered himself. His 
broad hat, round, smooth face and cloak made 
him look like a young divinity student. 

He stood for a moment on the corner, looking 
up the crowded and brilliantly lighted thorough- 
fare, which was lined with newspaper offices. 
Everywhere before the bulletin -boards, bunches 



224 ^ illcmbcr of tl)e ^\}\vtf §ousf. 

of excited men were grouped, talking with much 
gesticulation. Others were reading the papers 
by the light of the shop windows. Serial waves 
of newsboys rushed every hour in every direc- 
tion, yelling like little fiends. Brennan laughed 
with genuine pleasure to think that he was the 
main cause of all that turmoil. He was for the 
moment as big as Blaine. He stopped a boy 
who was passing. "Wait, my son," he said, 
with solemn intonation. 

The boy stopped, and, seeing that he was 
addressing a priest, his manner changed to timid 
awe : " Paper, mister ? " 

Brennan bought several of the papers, and the 
boy, delighted with his sales, ran on down the 
street, his voice rising above the sound of the 
cars and passing cabs: " Midnight 'dishun ! All 
about robbery ! " 

Brennan struck out at last in a steady, swift 
walk toward Davis' city home. He must have 
some money. As he went along he wondered 
when he would be able to walk these streets in 
daylight. The cloak he wore was oppressive, 
and he flung it back as he walked the cooler 
and more shadowy avenues of the city. 

There was something impressive in the quiet 
of Courtney Street, and Brennan was con- 
trasting the excitement of down town with the 



2r ilUmber of tl)c ^Ijirb fiousf. 325 

solemn darkness of this avenue of lofty, close- 
shuttered houses. As he walked he was think- 
ing over the letter he had written to Helene, 
and wishing he had not said some things just 
as they looked to him now with the whole letter 
before his eyes. 

" You must not be alarmed at anything you 
hear," he had written. " We're not in any danger. 
This will all pass off in a few weeks. Wish I 
could see you before I go to a foreign land. 
I'm going now to see the Duke, and we'll go 
together. We'll send for you soon ; so don't 
worry. You'd laugh to see me now. My mus- 
tache is gone ! Yes, it was that or life — I pre- 
ferred, on the whole, that the mus. should 
perish. I inferred you'd agree with me — any- 
how Tm as safe as a night-watchman in the 
corner grocery. Good-by for a few days." 

It was intended to make her smile. He knew 
that she had no realization of the gravity of his 
offense. She had no conscience, because she 
had no knowledge about such things. It is a 
woman's chiefest charm in the eyes of men like 
Brennan — this ignorance of all great moral and 
social issues, and this childlike acceptance of their 
code of morality from men. It has a delightful 
sufeness of return and justitioatiort — -- this code 
©f morality, like the logic <^f the Mohametani. 



220 '2, illcmbcr of tl)c ^l)irL) fijousf. 

It is so much easier to maintain the respect 
and admiration of such childlike minds. They 
fear the self-poised, self-respecting woman for 
obvious reasons. 

Tom wished he had not sent that letter so 
early. It might do him harm. 

As he neared Davis' house, he went slower 
and kept a keen eye for watchers, studying every 
shadow on the other side of the street. On 
the opposite walk the darkness was reddened by 
a lamp, and in the deep shadow of the steps he 
thought he saw a man's Derby hat. It was safe 
to be suspicious, and he turned off and entered 
the alley and came out by the servant's door on 
a side street. 

Mary came to the door. She was greatly 
astonished to see a priest instead of Tim. 

"What news?" said Brennan. "I want to 
see Mr. Davis." 

" Why, Mr. Brennan — an' is it you-u ?" 

" It zs. Lave me to enter. I want to surprise 
the governor; Mary, mavourneen." 

" Oh, you're a ro-gue," laughed the girl, who 
always enjoyed his banter. 

"I am. Do I look it?" 

"You look like Father McPhelan, sure! The 
livin' breath an' soul av 'im ! An' you talk like 
'im." 



Qi illcmbcr of tl)c Sl)ir^ $ousc. 221 

" I was so ed-u-cayted." 

He went up the stairs, shaking- his finger at 
the girl, to whom it was all a capital joke. He 
found no one in the library, but the open desk, 
the little table with its chocolate, the chairs 
filled with papers, all indicated that the Iron 
Duke was absent but momentarily. He was, 
evidently, preparing to leave. 

Tom threw back the folds of his cloak and 
smiled at himself in the mirror. The Duke 
would not know him. 

When Davis re-entered Brennan was sipping 
the chocolate, his hat on the back of his head. 
He was seated on the edge of the table. 

Davis was startled. " Who're you ? " 

Brennan grinned with delight. " I knew it. 
I'm in it. I do it clear out o' siofht." 

Davis recognized the voice. His tone dropped 
to a surly growl. " Oh, it's you, is it ? What 
you got that rig on for ? Thought you'd left 
town." 

"Not yet," replied Brennan, coldly. 

"Well, what's up ? " 

" General, in the famous words of Danger 
Dick, 'The jig's up.'" 

" You mean " 

" I mean that Hoi way has squeaked and skip- 
ped, or skipped and squeaked." 



^^•^8 ^ illcmbcr of tl]c ^Ijirb fjouse. 

Davis dropped heavily into a chair. A hoarse, 
slow snarl came from his set teeth. "The 
damned traitor ! I was afraid of him — and Fox ? " 

" Fox has emigrated too. The report is that 
we've skipped. Newspaper Corner swarms with 
newsboys and special editions. Here's the latest." 
He took several papers from his pockets. " I 
bought a collection as I came along." 

Davis snatched one of the papers and read it 
while Brennan went on: "The town is simply 
wild. You'd think an election was going on. 
Great reading, ain't it ?" He looked over Davis' 
shoulder. " * Davis Downed. The Iron Duke 
Meets His Waterloo. The Roused People 
Demand His Instant Incarceration.' Only one 
column to me, you see. This is one of the cases 
where to be lowly is to be happy." 

Davis broke forth at last. His wrath was 
frightful to see. His voice was raucous as that 
of a tieer whose teeth are clinched in flesh. 
" The damned curs ! Every one of 'em '11 come 
back on me now it's safe. When I had the pub- 
lic, they licked my feet." 

He paced up and down the room, twisting 
and tearing the papers, his face li\id with pas- 
sion, his limbs weak. "But they'll see — God 
damn them to hell! I'll fight 'em! I'll fight — ■ 



^ illfinbcr of tl)c ^Ijirb ir)ousc. 2->9 

fig"ht until death. They'll see whether I can be 
stuck in the throat like a sheep ! " 

Brennan sat on the edge of the table, watch- 
ing Davis in this convulsion of rage. 

"No use, General," he said, gently, when 
Davis sank into a chair, shaking like a leaf from 
his paroxysm. "You can't fight this thing." 

"I can't ! Why can't I ?" 

"Because it's fighting the people of this State. 
The damned fools have gone off in a spasm of 
virtue, and we've got to be scapegoats. I never 
saw anything like it. The papers reek with it ; 
the air is heavy with it. The legislature is para- 
lyzed. Nothing since the Credit Mobilier com- 
pares with it. They'd sacrifice us like cock- 
roaches to save their cussed necks. They're 
going to make us a dreadful example. An in- 
dignation meeting is being held this very night 
to denounce the legislature, exterminate the 
lobby and doivn the Iron Duke and his lieu- 
tenant," 

Davis rose again. "That's what grinds me! 
After submitting to this thing for years — for 
fifty years — they must turn on me — single vie 
out ! " 

"Well, I s'pose they had to draw the line 
somewhere." 

"Draw the line! Yes, two generations of 



230 ^ fllcmbcr of tl)c ^l)iri) fjousc. 

briber}' in all kinds of bad causes, and when I 
come to put a g-ood cause through — a cause 
affecting- millions of people — forced into bribery 
by the condition of legislation — they must draw 
the line on me, damn their miserable souls ! " 

"Set down, Governor. Take it easy." 

Davis lifted his voice in a sort of roar. " Take 

it easy ! By God, if I " He seemed to 

recollect himself suddenly, and went to the door 
and locked it. 

Brennan watched him with a comical look of 
suspicion on his face. " Now — now, what'd you 
do that for ?" 

" To keep Helene out." 

"Is she here?" asked Brennan, in a serious 
tone. 

" Yes. Came up late. But never mind her. 
Sit down. This business must be studied," he 
said, with something of his old decision and 
control. 

"That's right. Now you're talking sense. 
I'm in the soup, too, recollect." 

Davis stared at him a moment. " You ? Oh, 
yes ! I forgot. Why don't you work Fox's 
game ? " he asked, with a sneer. 

Brennan took off his hat, and gave it a twirl. 
" How d' y' like me tile ?" he inquired, to gain 
control of himself. He had risked a good deal 



^ ittnnbcr of tl)e (^l)irb ijousc. 231 

to see Davis, and this ano-ered him. " Good 
idea, only it's a little late now," he added. 

" What do you mean by that ? " 

"As I came up the street I saw a man stationed 
opposite. The house is watched. We are liable 
to be arrested any hour." 

"They wouldn't do that ! " 

" Wouldn't they ? ' Well, don't trust your 
bondsmen too far. They're going- to drop you 
in less'n two days. They can't stand the pres- 
sure." 

" You don't know the men who stand for 
us. They are " 

"Trustees in the road. Just the men to sacri- 
fice us. I tell you we're in for it. The road is 
going to pieces. Got any cash about you ?" 

"A few hundred dollars; why?" 

" We'll need it. Turn down that light a lit- 
tle." 

Davis turned out the burner, and Brennan 
went to the window and looked out for several 
minutes. 

"Aha ! He's there in the cellar-way opposite. 
Oh, they have an eye on us ! That man is paid 
by Deacon Hall, your bondsman. His orders 
are to see who comes and goes and to keep an 
eye on you. See ? Now my plan is for you to 
put on an old coat and hat, slip out back " 



»32 ^ illcinbcr of t[)c ^\)\v\j Cjouse. 

" I'll do nothing- of the kind. I won't sneak 
away like a cat ! " 

Brennan was a little irritated. "Well, I ain't 
standing on my dignity a cent's worth. It's 
sneak or fifteen years a.t hard labor for each of 
us." 

"Fifteen years. What do you mean ?" 

" I mean that when they arrest us again no 
bail will get us out. I tell you this fool public 
has an idea of making us examples, and they'll 
do it sure 's hell." 

Davis sat staring into space. His eyes ex- 
panded and the blood fell slowly out of his face. 
" Fifteen years ! " 

'* Nothing else — unless we take a sneak to- 
night. They may put us in the laundry or the 
harness-shop. It'll be terrible on Napoleonic 
business men like you and me. Isle of Elba 
racket to men who control the traffic of a great 
railway like a general commanding an army ! / 
make one dash for liberty. Better a tramp in 
Arcadia than a compulsory harness-maker here. 
See?" 

Davis sat with bowed head. " But Helene?" 
he muttered to himself. 

" She'll be all ripfht amoncr friends here. 
Send for her by and by. If you don't you'll 
receive her in striped clothing, and talk to her 



^ ilTrmbcr of tl)c (^Ijirt fjouac. 233 

through a barred window. I'd leave a dying 
mother in a case Hke this," he said, his voice 
sinking to a low key. " I'll tell you I don't 
want any State's prison life in mine. I've been 
too free in my life. I've been my own master, 
and since being with you IVe reached the point 
of commanding men. I don't want to go to 
breakfast lock-step with a murderer and a 
burglar. I don't care about changing the cut 
of my hair and clothes. Come ; this won't do. 
We must make a break, right now." 

Brennan was honestly trying to rouse Davis 
to the gravity of the situation. 

Davis shuddered. "My God, what a picture 
you bring up ! " 

Brennan dropped all jocularity. His voice 
grew intense and husky. " It ain't the half of it ! 
Why, man, for you and me it would be simply 
hell ! To a man like you, handling daily hun- 
dreds of thousands of dollars, commanding a 
thousand cars and five thousand men ; you, with 
your financial and executive ability, set to work 
punching holes in leather ten hours a day " 

" Stop ! " cried Davis, his face white and 
twitching. " God Almighty, man, do you want 
to drive me crazy? " 

" I am trying to rouse you. We must get 
away right now." 



234 ^ illcmbcr of tlj£ ^Ijirb ^ou0c, 

Davis again set his teeth. " I won't. I'll 
stay right here and fight them. Sit down ; give 
me the names of the other men you bribed — 
quick ! I'll not go alone." 

" I guess not," said Brennan.. coldly. 

"Why not?" 

"Because they are interested in getting us 
away. I can't and won't turn on my friends till 
the last ditch. Besides, they are trump cards. 
It won't do to go back on them now." 

" But you'd sacrifice me if necessary," said 
Davis. 

This was another uncalled-for thrust, and 
Brennan said, in deadly earnest : " I tell you, 
I'd sacrifice my own brother to keep out of that 
stone wall. Say, did you ever see a man come 
out of jail after fifteen years ? " he asked, in a new 
tone. " I have, twice, in my native town. Once, 
not four years ago, I saw a man come back to 
life ; that's what it is, coining back to life. I'll 
never forget how he looked if I live a thousand 
years. He kind of shambled when he walked. 
His hat was too wide for him ; his clothes seemed 
strange on him. His face had that sickly color 
called jail-white, and he winked and stared every 
time he lifted his head, and mumbled and burst 
out sobbing every little way as something familiar 



'2. iHcmbcr of tl)c ulljirb tjousc. <!;J5 

came to his eyes. A crowd of jeering- brats fol- 
lowed him." 

He acted this, in his fervor, so vividly that 
Davis groaned and sank into his seat at the desk. 
Brennan went on, carried away with the picture 
and the emotion it called up : "I trembled like 
a leaf when he passed me. I'm an imaginative 
cuss. Nothing takes hold on me like confine- 
ment. I've always lived out of doors. I grew 
up in the open air. I like action, liberty, and one 
year in a cell would kill me. I tell you, if I 

couldn't escape, I'd But I ain't got to that 

yet. I'm going to make a break for tall timber, 
as they say out west. I'm scared. I'm free to 
admit that. Only I wanted to see you and Hel- 
ene, or I wouldn't have come back here at all." 
He paused here as if another consideration came 
in. " Couldn't see her, could I ? " he asked, 
almost timidly. 

" No," answered Davis, in a low but decisive 
voice. " No, it's too late." 

Brennan drew a quick sigh. " Well, I'll need 
a little money. Let me have what you can 
spare." 

Davis mechanically handed him a roll of bills. 

" Here, take this — take it all ; I won't need it." 

Brennan put the bills away. "This will come 
back to you by and by all right. I've salted 



986 ^ illcmbcr of tl)c (lliw'b Cjonse. 

down a little barrel where I need it. but I 
couldn't ^et hold of it just now. Am very 
much obliged. I'll send a check. You'll need 
all you've got if you stay and fight this thing. 
Better come, Davis," he pleaded as he prepared 



to go. 



Davis sat immovable. " No, I stay here." 

"Well, good-by. I know we could get away 
all clear, if we reached the river. I'm all right. 
Some of the boys are there with a steam yacht." 
He turned in a last appeal. He hated to leave 
Davis alone to what he knew was certain de- 
struction. He came back and put his hand on 
Davis' shoulder. " Better come. Governor. It's 
simply desperation staying here." 

Davis shook his head harshly. " No, I tell 
you, I'll stay here." 

"Well, all right. But, if you should change 
your mind, let Tim Sheehan know through Bob. 
He'll look out for you." He paused at the door, 
and a little tremor came into his voice. "Tell 
Helene I hope to see her again soon. I'll write. 
Good-by." He unlocked the door and went out, 
closing it softly behind him. 

Davis sat at his desk for a long time in 
thought too deep for motion. He recognized 
the truth of all that Brennan had said. He was 



2. ilkmbcr of tl)e ^l)iri) flouae. 237 

in a cii/ de sac. His wealth, his social influence 
were alike swallowed up in the cataclysm of pub- 
lic indignation. His eyes fell on his papers, and 
he began to arrange them and pack them into 
the boxes. He worked rapidly and soon had 
them properly sorted. Then he locked the 
door and sat down to contemplate, at last, the 
desperate measure. He was like a man hemmed 
in by a burning forest, with this difference : he 
had very little inducement to live. 

He faced the problem squarely. Helene was 
provided for, a little property secured in her own 
name, and then Tuttle was rich. He balanced 
the two evils in a singularly calm way. He 
could not survive imprisonment, and was a con- 
vict's death any more honorable to him than 

Would Helene be any more hideously smirched 
in the one case than in the other ? And was 
there not infinitely less suffering for him in this ? 

He rose and went to a closet and brought 
back a valise, out of which he took a burglar's 
lantern, and a chisel or two, which he laid on the 
floor. He took a cap and shawl also from the 
bag, and threw them carelessly on the carpet. 
He went about this as if it all had been planned 
carefully. He overturned a chair at the desk as if 
to give the impression of a struggle. He opened 
the window at the back. He had a curiously 



338 ^ illembcr of tl)c ^l)iri) tjousc. 

methodical air. He left on the window a thin 
bar of steel. This done, he went to the door 
and listened. 

As he stood there he heard a fire-bell striking- 
solemnly. He returned to the desk, took off his 
coat and vest and laid them on a chair by the 
closet door. At last he took up the revolver, 
looked into the barrel and pressed it first to his 
temple, then to the back of his head. He 
seemed to fear that the noise would alarm 
Helene, and he paused as if something unex- 
pected had changed his mind. 

He looked about the room slowly. At length 
the partly opened door of the closet attracted 
him, and he arose and stole softly across the 
room. He opened the door and entered, draw- 
ine it close to with his left hand. After an in- 
stant came a dull report, and, the door opening 
slightly, a faint gray smoke curled thinly out at 
the top. A moment later the door swung open, 
and the dead man fell back into the room and 
lay upon his face. 

It was nine o'clock when Brennan came upon 
deck, and faced the beautiful morning breeze. 
They were just entering the sea. On each hand 
were dim, low promontories of grassy hills whose 
feet were buried in yellow sand. The sea was 



^ ilTcmbn- of tl)e (ill)irb f)OU0i\ 339 

blue as cobalt and lined with foam that glittered 
like ridges of snowy salt. Fishermen's sails, 
aslant in the cool wind, shone with the glancing 
light of the unclouded sun. The yachtsmen 
were singing; the captain, with hands shoved 
into the pockets of his snowy coat, was walking 
the deck, whistling in exultation. 

Brennan leaped on deck with a burst of tenor 
song. The captain turned. 

"Hello, old man! How do you feel this 
morning?" 

" Like new," said Brennan, with a ready laugh 
and exultant whoop. "Ain't this great ? South- 
wester; good for all day." 

"Beats railroading these days, eh?" 

" You bet your life ! " Brennan agreed, and 
with shining face and merry voice he sang: 

" ' With the sea before, 
And the wind ashore — 

Then ho, lads, ho ! 
Oh, what care I ? 
Teedley dee, teedley die ! 

Yoho, my lads, yoho ! ' 

Say, I'm ready for breakfast." 
[the end.] 



NOTABLE PUBLICATIONS 



OF 



F. J. SCHULTE & Company. 




THE WORKS OF IGNATIUS DONNELLY. 

CESAR'S COLUMN : A Stoky of the Twentieth Cen- 
tury. By Edmund Boisgilbert, M. D. (Ignatius Don- 
nelly). Large 12mo, cloth, $1.35. Paper, 50c. 
The same in Swedish. Cloth, $1.25. Paper 75c. 
The same in Norwegian. Cloth, $1.25. Paper, 50c. 
In preparation, a German translation, at same prices. 
"The most remarkable and thought producing novel that the disturbed 
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aud developed, l^he plot is absorbing, and yet uothiiig lu it seems forced. 
The conception of the 'Column 'is as original as its treatment is vigorous. 
There is no padding in the book; the events ai-e portrayed tersely and clearly. 
The analvsis is reasonable and sagacious, and the breadth of the author's 



2 Notable Publications of F. J. 8chulte S Co. 

mind, as ■well as liis careful study of social conditions, is made evident bv his 
treatment oftbo discussions put into the mouths of his characters. Justice is 
done to each side.'' — Julian Hawthokke. 

"As an example of the highest literarj form it deserves unstinted praise." 
— Cardinal Gibbons 

DOCTOR HUGUET: A Novel. By Ignatius Donnelly. 
Large 12mo, cloth, gilt top, $1.25. Paper, 50c. 

" This latest work of Mr. Donnelly is fullj' equal, if not superior, in origi- 
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the burning questions of the day — the race problem — audit is oueof the most 
original and striking conceptions in literature. . . . "Wo are safe in saymg 
that no book of recent date has created the sensation which ' Doctor Huguet' 
\nll create Mr. Donnelly's acknowledged power as a writer is seen to a 
marked degree in this new work, and many remarkably hue passages attest 
his skill and scholarship." — St. Joseph (Mo.) 'News. 

RAGNAROK: The Age of Fire and Gravel. By 
Ignatius Donnelly. Illustrated. Large 12mo, cloth, 
$2.00. 
Mr. Donnelly himself considers this his greatest work. 

"The title of this book is taken from the Scandinavian sagas, or legends, 
and means ' the darkness of the gods. ' The work consists of a chain ot argu- 
ments and facts to prove a series of extraordinary theories, viz.: That the 
Drift Age, with its vast deposits of clay and gravel, its decomposed rocks and 
its great rents in the face of the globe, was the result of contact between the 
earth and a comet, and that the Drift-material was brought to the earth by the 
comet ; that man lived on the earth at that time; that ho was highly civilized; 
that all the human family, with the exception of a fcM' persons who saved 
themselves in caves, perished from the same causes whicli destroyed the 
mammoth and the otherpre-glacial animals ; that the legends of all theracesof 
the world preserve references to and descriptions of this catastrojjhe; that 
following it came a terrible age of ice and snow, of great floods while the 
clouds were restoring the waters to the sea, and an age of darkness while the 
dense clouds enfolded the globe. These startling ideas are supported by an 
aiTay of scientific facts, and by legends drawn from all ages and all regions of 
the earth." 

" The work will bo read with curious interest by the learned, and, though 
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terest of general readers, and the admiration and respect, if not tho universal 
credence, of the conservative and the scientific." — Prof. Alexander Win- 
CUELL, in the Dial. 

ATLANTIS : The Antediluvian World. By Ignatius 
Donnelly. Illustrated. Large 12mo, cloth, $2.00. 

"These propositions aro startling, and would be incredible if they ■were 
not supported by adequat(5 testimony, which, however, ilr. Donnelly has col- 
lated from a great variety of sources." lie brings to bear upon tho question an 
amount of clas.sical, historical, geological, ethnological and miscellaneous 
knowledge which is altogether surprising, marshaling his arguments in the 
cli'aicst and most efl'ective manner, and presenting them in perfect English, 
tivijucntly rising into eloquence. . . . It is a marvel of erudition and in- 
gi'niiity. and a work of immcuso research "— TAe Ouanlian, Banburi/, £n(/- 
hnid. 



Notable Publications of F. J. Schulte S Co. 3 

THE GREAT CRYPTOGRAM: Francis Bacon's 

Cipher in the so-called Shakespeare Plats. 

By Ignatius Donnelly. Large 8vo, 998 pages, cloth, 
extra, $3.50. 

DONNELLIANA : Excerpts from the Wit, Wisdom, 
Eloquence and Poetry of Ignatius Donnelly. 
AVith a Biography. By Everett ^\. Fish, M. D. Large 
12mo, cloth, gilt top, 11.50. 

LE ROY ARMSTRONG. 

AN" INDIANA MAN. By Le Roy Armstrong. 12mo. 
cloth, extra, 81.00. Paper, 50c. 

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em politics as to seem more like history and biograpliy than romance." — Inter 
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" Of intimate personal knowledge of the phases of life described, of fault- 
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could have a nobler or a more needed motive." — Feaxces E. Willaed. 

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" The story centers in the saloon of an Indiana town. . . . There is not 
a line of moralizing in it, but it is a faithful, realistic, dramatic, moving recital 
of events. The scenes of rural life are depicted with a graphic skill that would 
not have done discredit to the immortal author of 'Adam Bcde."" — Voice. 

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A TRAMP IN SOCIETY. By Rol^ert H. Cowdrey. 
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" Thrilling and fascinating. . . . No one who'reads it can restrain ad- 
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" We have had a dozen or more novels of late that have had new eco- 
nomic schemes for a basis, but mostly advocating state socialism. At last we 
have the individualistic novel, and it ought to win widespread favor. Mr. 
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agination." — St. Louis Republic. 

C. C. POST. 

DRIVEN FROM SEA TO SEA; or, Just a-Campin'. 
By C. C. Post. Large 12mo, illustrated, dotli, ^\.'l'>. 
Paper, 50c. 

"Since the days that Mrs Stowe wrote the doom of the slave-driver iu 
' Uncle Tom"s Cabiii'no author has struck amore vigorous blow in favor of the 
rights of the laborer." — Chicaijo Inter Ocean. 



4 Notable Puhlications of F. J. Schidte £ Co. 

OPIE READ'S FAMOUS NOVELS. 

A KENTUCKY COLONEL. By Opie Eead. Large 
13mO;, cloth, gilt top, SI. 25 Paper, 50c. 

" In these days of endless foreign importations in the line of literature, 
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m Russian. French or Italian fiction, it is an nnmistakable relief to pick iq) a 
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Hox Henry C. Caldwell, who is not only one of the gi-eatest of 
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must strtkiiii/ III c/iaracter, smd upon the whole oh« of the most tkriUuig andyet 
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sensation. " 

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Record. 

EMMETT BONLORE. By Opie Read. Large 12mo, 
cloth, gilt top, $1.25. PajDcr, 50c. 

A book combining all Iho qualities which have made " A Kentucky 
Colonel " so popular, with even greater variety of action and incident and 
character, and full of rich and sparkling humor. 

"A novel of remarkable power and interest." — Spirit. 

'■ A notable contribution to recent literature." — Booh Buyer. 

LEN GANSETT. By Opie Read. 12mo, cloth, 11.25. 
Paper 50c. 

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very self." — Am. Commercial T)'aveler. 

SELECTED STORIES. By Opie Read. 16mo, cloth, gilt 
top, lil.OO. Paper, 50c. Sixteen gems set in one beau- 
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" 1 thank you for the dainty volume. 'Sun Dust' and ' An Arkansas Hang- 
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Notahle Pnhli ration.^ of F. J. Sdnilfo S Co. 



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LEWIS VITAL BOGY. 

IN OFFICE : A Story of Washington" Life and Son- 
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"The writer of this novel is to be commended for the effort he makes to 
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AN HONEST LAWYER. By Alvali Milton Kerr. 12mo, 
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A volume which is certain to attract general attention, not only in the 
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to all who admii-e the viiilo and original in literature. 

THOMAS AND ANNA M. FITCH. 

BETTER DAYS; or, A Millionaire of To-morrow. 
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partial- manner, and a plausible solution offered. The treatment of the labor 
question shows great power of observation, and the volume ou the whole mdi- 



r, Notahle PuhUmtionfi of F. J. Sclivlfe & Co. 

rates sound common sense, a great gift of demonstration, eloquence of lan- 

fuage and high moral views. The romance fonning the skeleton of the hook 
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FRANC B. WILKIE ("Poliuto"). 

PEESONAL REMINISCENCES OF THIRTY-FIVE 
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C Poliuto''). Large 13mo, cloth extra, gilt top, ele- 
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" A valuable addition to the history of journalism. It is ■written in Mr. 
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bleakest of New England hills, whose earliest childhood saw life surrounded 
with but little sunlight, and whose horizon was bounded, if not by poverty, 
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"WM. E. BURKE. 

FEDERAL FINANCES ; or, The Income of the United 
States. Bv Wm. E. Burke. Illustrated. 12mo, clo 
$1.25. 

"Supplies a need of the times, inasmuch as it furnishes an intelligible ex- 
planation of our American system of taxation, written in such a simple and 
direct stylo that the ordinary intellect can readily grasp its meaning. . . . 
Ab^.truse tables of figures and all other and kindred wearisome forms are dis- 
carded, and his exposition of the nation's finances and methods of obtaining 
the income required to perpetuate the goverment reads like a well-told story. 
lie makes no attempt to discourse upon the dry subject of political economy, 
l)ut deals entirely with the facts involved. Beginning with the first Biblical 
account of taxation, he traces his subject in the most interesting way from a 
period anterior to the advent of coin money, through the era of tithes and 
tenths, the methods of oriental countries, Greek and Roman systems, down to 
tiie first recorded attempt of England to secure governmental revenue, and 
the subsequent artifices of British kings and governing bodies to establish 
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present, a cha])tcr on the sources of federal income, a description of collection 
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IwdS) etc," — Bv.rlington Bawkeye, 



Notcible Pnhlication:^ of F. J. Schulie S Co. 7 
MRS. HENRY POTT. 

l^RANCIS BACON AND HIS SECEET SOCIETY : Ak 
Attempt to Collect and Unite the Lost Links of 
A Long and Stkong Chain. By Mrs. Henry Pott, 
editor of "Bacon's Promus." Illustrated with twenty- 
seven full-page plates. Post 8vo, 421 pages, cloth 
extra, gilt top, 12.00. 

S. F. NORTON. 

TEN MEN OF MONEY ISLAND ; or. The Peimer of 
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11.00. Paper, 25c. 

" It makes the mone}' question, which has bothered so many brains, as 
simple as the alphabet. It is a literary wonder in this, that it makes postinj^ 
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ant reading as 'Robinson Crusoe.""— Lester C. JJubbard. 

MRS. MARION TODD. 

PIZAREO AND JOHN SHEEMAN. By Mrs. Marion 
Todd. 12mo, paper, 25c. 

" This book treats exclusively on the money question. It handles the 
subject ^joth historically and argumentatively, and when the reader lays it 
down ho will have a comprehensive knowledge of this momentous topic. "- 

Farmers^ Voice. 

PEOTECTIVE TAEIFF DELUSION. By Mrs. Marion 
Todd. 12mo, cloth, 75c. Paper, 25c, 

" The best book ever written upon the subject for the general reader." — 
Col. B. S. Heath. 

" This book should be in the hands of every public speaker." — Hastinr/s 
Jmirnal. 

THE RIGHTS OF WOMAN ; or. Prof. Goldavin Smith 
AND HIS Satellites in Congress. By Mrs. Marion 
Todd. 12mo, cloth, 75c. Paper, 30c. 

"The brightest defense of woman's natural rights that we have ever 
read. " — Nonconformist. 

"A clear and cogent presentation of the facts relating to the suffrage 
question. We are free to say that, although Mrs. Todd cannot vote, she can 
argue with ability and skill." — Chicago Herald. 

MICHAEL J. SCHAACK. 

ANARCHY AND ANAECHISTS. By Michael J. 
Schaack, Captain of Police. With over 200 original 
illustrations. G98 pp., 8vo, cloth, ^2.00. Half mo- 
rocco, $3.00. 



8 Notahlp Publications of F. J. Srlnilfe S Co. 

RICHARD L. GARY, JR. ("Hyder AH"). 

TALES OF THE TURF and "Rank Oitsideks." By 
Richard L. Gary, Jr. ("Hyder Ali"); with ilhistrations 
by Gean Smith. ' Quarto, cloth, $2.50; lialf culf, $3.50; 
fnll morocco, $5.00. 

"The author has succeeded in clothing turf history, fancy and romance 
in the garb of poetry, in verses that are not only smooth and flowing, but clean 
in tone. The publishers have been lavish hut tasteful in the typographical 
production." — Horseman. 

K. L. ARMSTRONG. 

THE LITTLE GIANT CYCLOPEDIA: A Treasury 
OF Ready Referexce. By K. L. Armstrong. A 
million and one facts and figures. Eighty-two colored 
plates and maps. 16mo, full leather binding, flexible, 
red edges, $1.00. 

This remarkable book has had a sale reaching into the hundreds of thou- 
sands, and is steadil}- growing iu popularity. It is constantly revised, and 
brought up to date with each new edition. 

" This wonderful book will add a year to any man's lifetime if it is true 
that time saved is time snatched from the grave." — Ottaica Ti-ilmne. 

ELI F. BROWN, M. D. 

SEX AND LIFE : The Physiology and Hygiene of 
the Sexual Organization. By Eli F. Brown, M. S., 
M. D., author of ''The House I Live In," etc., etc. 
Illustrated. 16mo, cloth, extra, $1.00. Paper, 50c. 

a clean, popular, scientific book, by an author of high repute, on a subject 
of the utmost importance, but which has never before been treated in a manner 
suitable for general circulation. 

C. ROPP. 

ROPP'S COMMERCIAL CALCULATOR: A Practical 
Arithmetic for Practical Purposes. Containing a 
complete system of accurate and convenient tables, to- 
gether with simple, short and practical methods for 
rapid calculation. By C. Ropp. Leatherette, 25c. 
Artificial leather, with pocket silicate slate and account 
book, 50c. Am. Russia, $1.00. Genuine Russia, $1.50. 



F. J. SCHULTE & COMPANY, Publishers, 

298 Dearborn Street, 

CHICAGO. 



A Tramp IN Society. 

By ROBERT H. COWDREY. 



Cloth, Extra. $1.25. 
Paper CovrR, 60 Cents. 



One of the most striking features of the times is the fact that so many 
pens are turned upon finding some solution for the portentous labor ques- 
tion. Bellamy's ideal has come and gone without affecting any great 
change in the tendencies of the times or the nature of our laws. Ignatius 
Donnelly has given us a startling view of the next century in " Csesar's 
Column," a book which has aroused to serious thought the people of both 
hemispheres. It remained for Robert H. Cowdrey to give us the individ- 
ualistic novel, and perhaps no man is better fitted for this task. His address 
before the Tariff Commission of 1882 attracted wide-spread attention, 
and, having been the United Labor Party candidate for President of the 
United States in 1888, his writings have a prestige and standing with 
thousands of readers even regarmess of their literary merit. 

" Robert H. Cowdrey, the author of ' A Tramp in Society,' is well 
known in Chicago as a philanthropist who has devoted much of his time 
to investigating the evils of our social system, and methods of alleviating 
the distress of the working classes. Containing no fine-spun theories, this 
book is a practical exponent of the evils which oppress the people, and 
indicates practical methods by which they may be aided." — Chicago 
Graphic. 

" We have had a dozen or more novels of late that have had new 
economic schemes of living for a basis, but mostly advocating state social- 
ism. At last we have the individualistic novel, and it ought to win wide- 
spread favor. Mr. Cowdrey has strong conviction, a good command ol 
English, and fertile imagination. The influence of ' A Tramp in Society' 
will at least extend the growing feeling that the Kingdom of Heaven maj 
be nigher than we think." — St. Louis Republic. 

"As a criticism of existing conditions it is sensible and incisive."— 
Chicago Times. 

"In the form of a novel, * A Tramp in Society' presents a series oi 
terrible indictments of our social system and of the thing we call law. If 
all the children of to-day were made to read this book, the men of twenty 
years hence would be apostles of a new social di^ensation. Mr. Cowdrej 
tells the story of the wrongs he has seen, and he deserves a wide hearing." 
— New York Morning Journal. 

" There is not an uninteresting page in all the book. " — Hugh O. Pente- 
cost. 

" ' A Tramp in Society ' shows that he who controls the land has the 
power to control all industries, and therefore the lives and fortunes of the 
people. As a thought-inspiring book there are few better, and we bespeak 
for it a wide circulation." — Hartford Examiner, 



A TRAMP IN SOCIETY; By ROBERT H. COWDREY. 

"The anthor of 'A Tramp in Society ' is a thinker of no mean order. 
He believes the time is ripe for men to speak as 'angels, trunipet-tongued,* 
but also that they should make ready lor the fearful battle which confronts 
modern civilization. The creations of his imagination are quite realistic in 
their eloquence, and the words he makes them utter may have some good 
effect, if read in the right quarters. But when one gets away from the 
spell of his arguments, the question arises whether there is here in free 
America any such condition of affairs as lie pictures, and supplements by 
quoting the forebodings of Mill, Spencer, and Lincoln. Was Tolstoi right 
when he said, ' We are willing to help the poor in every way, except by 
getting off their backs and letting them help themselves '? " — JVew York 
Recorder. 

"'A Tramp in Society" is a strong, natural, and therefore realistic 
piece of work. The <irst thought it suggests is that in Edgar Bartlett we 
have an overdrawn picture of the ups and downs which an able and refined 
man can experience in a land like ours. A second sober thought, how- 
ever, corrects this impression, and convinces the reader that here is a real 
character, whose prototypes exist in great numbers in all our large cities, 
and that they are the legitimate results of our jiresent imperfect social con- 
ditions. The fact that the book is from the pen of Robert H. Cowdrey, a 
well-known labor leader, may prejudice some minds against it before they 
have read its thrilling and fascinating pages; but no one who reads t'le 
work carefully can retain that prejudice or restrain admiration for the man 
who can write a story that contains so much that is helpful and bettering to 
humanity." — The Aj-ka^isaw Traveler. 

" ' A Tramp in Society ' is written with considerable force. The author 
has made a photograph of ex'sting social conditions, with terrible povci ly 
on one hand and heaped-up \\ealth on the other. The hero is a man ^\■ho, 
from a station of wealth and independence, falls, through no fault of his 
own, into the depth of poverty, and becomes an outcast tramp. Rescued 
^om his degradation, he is made to give the result of his study of the evils 
that exist, and he makes a wonderfully strong showing." — Toledo Blade. 

" As a sociological treatise it has claims on our attention by offering a 
solution of the social problems tliat are now disquieting the world. The 
thoughtfulness shown by\he author in his dealing with these hard questions 
entitles his opinions to respect." — Chicago Inter Ocean. 

" A very clever book. No wise saws and little theoretical drivel, but a 
story well and strongly written. " — Minneapolis Journal. 

" Mr. Cowdrey has succeeded in mingling such apparently hostile ele- 
ments as political economy and fiction. His hero delivers frequent talks 
on the questions of wages, rents, money, ownership of land, etc., but he 
makes them interesting and really presents his ideas in very attractive 
form." — San Francisco Chronicle. 

Price in cloth, extra, gilt top, $1.25. Paper covers, 50c. 
For sale by all book-sellers, or will be mailed, postpaid, to any address 
on receipt of price. 

F. J. SCHULTE & CO., Publishers,- 
296 Dearlx>rr^ St., CHICAGO. 



CESAR'S COLUMN 

A Story of the Twentieth Century. 




By EDMUND BOISGILBERT, M. D. 

[IGNATIUS DONNELLY] 



This wonderful book was first issued in June, 1890, The 
name on the title page was Edmund Boisgilbert, M. D., and 
it was given out that this was a pseudonym. The leading 
magazines and reviews, with one exception, and many of the 
great newspapers entirely ignored the book, and everything at 
first was against its success. It created the most profound in- 



C/tSAR'S COLUMN— WHAT THE CRITICS SAY. 

terest, however, among those who read it, and soon became 
talked about. Julian Hawthorne, Bishop Potter, Fran- 
ces E. WiLLARD and others spoke highly of it, and Cardinal 
Gibbons praised it as an example of the highest literary form. 
Opie p. Read summed up its charm in these words: "// will 
ihrill a careless reader of novels, or profoundly impress a 
statesman. It is gentle as a child and yet it is rugged as a 
giant." In six months "Caesar's Column" passed through 
twelve editions, and considerable guessing was done as to the 
real name of the author, among those prominently named be- 
ing Judge Tourgee, Mark Twain, T. V. Powderly, Robert G. 
Ingersoll, Chauncey M. Depew, Benj. F. Butler and others. In 
December it was finally announced that Ignatius Donnelly, 
author of "Atlantis," " Ragnarok " and " The Great Crypto- 
gram," was also the author of " Cassar's Gjiumn." Mr. Don- 
nelly had escaped general suspicion because his previous writ- 
ings are more distinguished by laborious industry and wide 
information than by the qualities that go to make the creator 
of romances. 

" In ' Caesar's Column ' Mr, Donnelly takes as his text the 
dangerous tendencies of our age and gives a picture of 
what the world will be a hundred years from now, if the 
spirit of invention and material progress remains the same 
and the moral spirit of society moves along in its present 
channels. The San Francisco Chronicle aptly says: In a 
startlingly original and fascinating novel he presents a pro- 
found study of sociological conditions. 



WHAT THE CRITICS SAY. 

"A Gabriel's trump." — Frances E. Willard. 

"A very extraordinary production." — Rt. Rev. Henry C. Potter. 

•' The effect of an honest purpose is felt in every line." — Pioneer Press. 



Ci€SAR'S COLUMN— WHAT THE Ct^ITlCS SAY. 

As an example of the highest literary form it deserves unstinted 
praise."— Cardinal Gibbons. 

" A wonderfully fascinating book. It will hold the attention of the 
world as no other book has held it for ^t^x^."— Chicago Saturday Blade. 

" ' Cesar's Column,' in its vivid portrayal, will lead many to .realize 
the many dangers to which our country is liable." — Hon. Wm. Larrabee. 

" I was unable to lay it down until 1 had finished reading it. It 
should be read by every farmer in the land."— H. L. LouCKS, President 
National Farmers^ Alliance. 

" Bellamy looks backward upon what is impossible as well as im- 
probable. ' Caesar's Column ' looks forward to what is not only pos- 
sible, but probable." — MiLTON GEORGE. 

" I have read ' Cesar's Column ' ^wice and am convinced that it has 
been -written in the nick of time. * * * I predict for the book an 
immense sale and a world-wide discussion."— CORINNE S. Brown, Sec- 
retary Nationalist Club, Chicago. 

" The story is ?9iost interestingly devisea and strongly told. It is not 
the work of a pessimist or ^.n anarchist, but rather of a preacher who 
sees the dangers that all thoughtful men see in our time, and, appreci- 
ating the importance to humanity of maintaining what is good in ex- 
isting systems, utters his warning as a sacred duty." — Free Press. 

" The book points out tendencies which actually exist and are in 
need of cure. It warns us with vehemence and force of the necessity 
of guarding our liberties against the encroachments of monopoly and 
plutocracy, and of disarming corruption in government by every device 
that a vigilant ingenuity can supply."— George Cary Eggleston. in 
New York World. 

' The most remarkable and thought-provoking novel XhzX the disturbed 
industrial and social conditions of the present have produced. * » * 
The purpose of this book is to arrest attention— to make men think 
wisely and act justly, and with dispatch. The write • holds it as a sig- 
nal of danger before the on-coming train. Will the warning be 
leeded?" — The Arena. 

" The author writes with tremendous feeling and great imaginative 
pc-rver. The picture gives in startling colors what would be the case 
if many of our bus-ness methods and social tendencies were to move 



C/^SAR'S COLUMN— WHAT THE CRITICS SAY. 

on unimpeded to their legitimate results. The book is a plea, and a 
striking one. Its plot is bold, its language is forceful, and the great up- 
rising is given with terrible vividness." — Public Opinion. 

"■Intense, stirring and eloquent. No Such book has ever before 
appeared in the annals of literature. Its story is here and there bright- 
ened by the szoeetness of a pure love, but the general tone is one which 
should make every honest heart shiver for the future. The truth peers 
out from every page. No man will read this book without a new sense 
of duty and responsibility to his country." — The Great West. 

"One of the wonderful features of this wonderful book is that it 
anticipated Dr. Koch's great discovery. It represents a philosopher 
living a hundred years from now as finding out that all bacteria are 
accompanied by minute hostile forms of life that prey upon them; 
that these preserve the balance of nature, and by destroying the other 
bacilli which infest the animal world, prevent the utter destruction of 
man." — Book Talk. 

" It is exceedingly interesting as a narrative and is written by a man 
of the ight, learning and imagination. I consider it the best tvork of 
its da s, since Bulwer's ' Coming Race.' I was impressed with the 
power of the book — the vividness and strength with which the inci- 
dents of the tale are described and developed. The plot is absorbing, 
and yet nothing in it seems forced. The conception of the ' Column' 
is as original as its treatment is vigorous. There is no padding in the 
book; the events are portrayed tersely and clearly. The analysis is 
reasonable and sagacious, and the breadth of the author's mind, as 
well as his careful study of social conditions, is made evident by his 
treatment of the discussions put into the mouths of his characters. 
Justice is done to each side." — Julian Hawthorne. 



One Volume, Large 12mo, 367 Pages. 



PAPER COVERS, - - - ;? .50 

CLOTH EXTRA, - - - 1.25 



Sent postpaid to any address on receipt of price. 



F- . SCHULTE & CO., Publishers, Chica: o. 



AN INDIANA MAN 

By LE ROY ARMSTRONG 



"A well-told story of a young man who 'entered politics' and 
what came of it. * * * So true to the real life of modern politics 
as to seem more like real history and biography than romance."— C///- 
cago Inter Ocean. 

"A novel worth reading. In this work the author has given us a 
touch of realism that shows his appreciation of life as it really is. Out 
of the common and everyday happenings of a country town he has 
constructed a story that holds the reader's attention from beginning tc 
end." — Chicago Herald. 

"An Indiana man is what he is, in childhood, in school, in court- 
ship and in the serious business of life, which generally has more or 
less to do with politics. Mr. Armstrong's hero is a politician 'up to 
date.' * * * Of the intimate personal knowledge of the phases of 
life described, of faultless discrimination in the choice of essential factr 
and of the power to write them well, Mr. Armstrong has proved him 
self a master." — Evening Post. 

"A faithful portrayal of local politics as it exists to-day through- 
out the old Hoosier state. * * * The description of the old-time 
•spelling match' recalls vividly our boyhojd days and is well worth 
twice the cost of the book."— Hois. Orlando M. Packard. 

"You have told your story well, and its purpose is to purify per- 
sonal living and correct politics. It sounds to me as if from life. No 
man could have a nobler or a more needed motive."— Frances E. 

WiLLARD. 



ONE VOLUME i2mo. CLOTH, Extra, $1.00. PAPER, 50 Cts. 



F. J. S6HULTE k CO., PubllSliers. GHIGflOO, 



/d^l^'l^.c"''^ 



1/ 



Always Up to Date. 100,000 Copies Each Year. 



The Little Giant Cyclopedia 

AND TREASURY OF READY REFERENCE. 
By K. L. ARMSTRONG. 

"It occupies a fronts-eat in my library." — John A. Cockrrill, Editor in Chief lyeio 
York World. " The wonder of modern book-making." — Chicago Leader. 

A Million and One Facts and Figures. 50 Full-Page Colored Maps, 
32 Colored Charts, Plates and Diagrams. 2,500 
Useful Tables, Recipes, etc. 

A World of Valuable Jnformation in One Handy Volume. 

Combining: A Manual of Busi- 
ness Forms and Commercial In- 
formation. A Dictionary of Geu' 
eral Statistics. A Complete Po- 
litical History of the United 
States. A Grammar, Rhetoric, 
and Manual of Pronunciation. 
A Work on Memory Culture 
and Training. A Compendium 
of useful Recipes, Trade Secrets, 
etc. A Lightning Calculator and 
Ready Reckoner. A Manual ol 
General Political Information. 
A Cyclopedia of General Knowl- 
edge. A Dictionary of -Syno- 
nyms and Antonyms, i2,oto 
words. A Compendium of Gen- 
eral Science. A complete Legal 
Adviser and Formulary. A Uni- 
versal History. A Practical 
Treatise on Electricity, etc. A 
Home Kook of Medicine and 
Hygiene. 

1 ME Little Giant has thou- 
sands of facts of general interest 
which are not found even in the 
bulky Cyclopedias, and no other 
book is so handy for ([uick con- 
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putes. 

The Little Giant Cvclo- 
rEDiA is published in one com- 
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from clear type on the best 
quality of Bible Paper. The 
margins are sniall, making it 
possible to present in a handy 
volume more printed surface 
than is usually contained in 
books ten times as bulky. The 
binding isneat, rich and durable. 
Nothing approaching it in 
completeness has ever before been published at less than $5.00, and for all practical purposes 
it is far superior to any compendium of general information retailing at from $6.00 to $10,00. 

Price, in Flexible Morocco, Gold Stamping, Red Edges, $1.00. 

Sent postpaid to any address on receipt of price. 

ArF\IT<v WAMTFTi to introduce this book 

/\LrDi\ 10 WAIN i CU IN EVERY TOWN AND TOWNSHIP 

F. J. SCHULTE & CO., Publishers, 

298 DEARBORN STREET. OI-3:XO.i^C3-0. 





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