XXVII
THE ELECTION NIGHT
It was election night. Kennedy and Carton had arranged between themthat we were all to receive the returns at the headquarters of theReform League, where one of the papers which was particularlyinterested, had installed several special wires.
The polls had scarcely closed when Kennedy and I, who had voted early,if not often, in spite of our strenuous day, hastened up to theheadquarters. Already it was a scene of activity.
The first election district had come in, one on the lower East Side,which was a stronghold of Dorgan, where the count could be madequickly, for there were no split tickets there. Dorgan had drawn firstblood.
"I hope it isn't an omen," smiled Carton, like a good sport.
Kennedy smiled quietly.
We looked about, but Miss Ashton was not there. I wondered why not andwhere she was.
The first returns had scarcely begun to filter in, though, when Craigleaned over and whispered to me to go out and find her, either at herhome, or if not there, at a woman's club of which she was one of theleading members.
I found her at home and sent up my card. She had apparently lostinterest in the election and it was with difficulty that I couldpersuade her to accompany me to the League headquarters. However, Iargued the case with what ability I had and finally she consented.
The other members of the Ashton family had monopolized the cars and wewere obliged to take a taxicab. As our driver threaded his way slowlyand carefully through the thronged streets it gave us a splendid chanceto see some of the enthusiasm. I think it did Margaret Ashton good,too, to get out, instead of brooding over the events of the past fewdays, as she had seen them. Her heightened colour made her moreattractive than ever.
The excitement of any other night in the year paled to insignificancebefore this.
Distracted crowds everywhere were cheering and blowing horns. Now aseries of wild shouts broke forth from the dense mass of people beforea newspaper bulletin board. Now came sullen groans, hisses, andcatcalls, or all together, with cheers, as the returns swung in anotherdirection. Not even baseball could call out such a crowd as this.
Enterprising newspapers had established places at which they flashedout the returns on huge sheets on every prominent corner. Some of themhad bands, and moving pictures, and elaborate forms of entertainmentfor the crowds.
Now and then, where the crowd was more than usually dense, we had tomake a wide detour. Even the quieter streets seemed alive. On some boyshad built huge bonfires from barrels and boxes that had been savedreligiously for weeks or surreptitiously purloined from the grocer orthe patient house-holder. About the fires, they kept an ever watchfuleye for the descent of their two sworn enemies--the policeman and therival gang privateering in the name of a hostile candidate.
Boys with armfuls of newspapers were everywhere, selling news that inthe rapid-fire change of the statistics seemed almost archeologicallyold.
Lights blazed on every side. Automobiles honked and ground their gears.The lobster palaces, where for weeks, Francois, Carl, and William hadbeen taking small treasury notes for tables reserved against theoccasion, were thronged. In theatres people squirmed uneasily until theends of acts, in order to listen to returns read from the stage beforethe curtain. Police were everywhere. People with horns, and bells, andall manner of noise-making devices, with confetti and "ticklers" pushedup on one side of Broadway and down on the other.
At every square they congested foot and vehicle traffic, as they pausedravenously to feed on the meagre bulletins of news.
Yet back of all the noise and human energy, as a newspaperman, I couldthink only of the silent, systematic gathering and editing of the news,of the busy scenes that each journal's office presented, the haste, theexcitement, the thrill in the very smell of the printer's ink.
Miss Ashton, I was glad to note, as we proceeded downtown, fell moreand more into the spirit of the adventure.
High up in the League headquarters in the tower, when we arrived, itwas almost like a newspaper office, to me. A corps of clerks wastabulating returns, comparing official and semi-official reports. Asfirst the city swung one way, then another, our hopes rose and fell.
I could not help noticing, however, after a while that Miss Ashtonseemed cold and ill at ease. There was such a crowd there of Leaguersand their friends that it was easily possible for her not to meetCarton. But as I circulated about in the throng, I came upon him.Carton looked worried and was paying less attention to the returns thanseemed natural. It was evident that, in spite of the crowd, she hadavoided him and he hesitated to seek her out.
There were so many things to think of thrusting themselves into one'sattention that I could follow none consistently. First I found myselfwondering about Carton and Miss Ashton. Before I knew it I wasdelivering a snap judgment on whether the uptown residence districtreturns would be large enough to overcome the hostile downtown vote. Iwas frankly amazed, now, to see how strongly the city as a whole wasturning to the Reform League.
A boy, pushing through the crowd, came upon Kennedy and myself, talkingto Miss Ashton. He shoved a message quickly into Craig's hand anddisappeared.
"For heaven's sake!" he exclaimed as he tore open the envelope andread. "What do you think of that? My shadows report that Martin Oglebyhas been arrested and his confession will be enough, with the BlackBook and Betty Blackwell, to indict Dorgan. Kahn has committed suicide!Hartley Langhorne has sailed for Paris on the French line, with Mrs.Ogleby!"
"Mary Ogleby--eloped?" repeated Miss Ashton, aghast.
The very name seemed to call up unpleasant associations and her faceplainly showed it. Kennedy had said nothing to her since the day whenhe had pleaded with her to suspend judgment.
"By the way," he said in a low voice, leaning over toward her, "haveyou heard that those pictures of her were faked? It was really Dorgan,and some crook photographer cut out his face and substituted Carton's.We got the Black Book, this morning, too, and it tells the story ofMrs. Ogleby's misadventures--as well as a lot of much more importantthings. We got it from Mr. Murtha and---"
"Mr. Murtha?" she inquired, in surprise.
"It is a secret, but I think I can violate it to a certain extent forMr. Carton is a party to it and--"
Kennedy paused. He was speaking with the assurance of one who assumedthat John Carton and Margaret Ashton had no secrets. She saw it, andcoloured deeply.
Then he lowered his voice further to a whisper and when he finished,her face was even a deeper scarlet. But her eyes had a brightness theyhad lacked for days. And I could see the emotion she felt as her slightform quivered with excitement.
Kennedy excused himself and we worked our way through the press towardCarton.
"Dorgan has lost his nerve!" ejaculated Craig as we came up with him,watching district after district which showed that the Boss's usualpluralities were being seriously reduced.
"Lost his nerve?" repeated Carton.
"Yes. I told him I would publish the whole affair of the photographsjust as I knew it, not caring whom it hit. I advised him to read hisrevised statutes again about money in elections and I added the threat,'There will be no "dough day" or it will be carried to the limit,Dorgan, and I will resurrect Murtha in an hour!' You should have seenhis face! There was no dough day. That's what I meant when I said itwas to be a fair fight. You see the effect on the returns."
Carton was absolutely speechless. The tears stood in his eyes as hegrasped Kennedy's hand, then swung around to me.
A terrific cheer broke out among the clerks in the outer office. One ofthem rushed in with a still unblotted report.
Kennedy seized it and read:
"Dorgan concedes the city by a safe plurality to Carton, fifty-twoelection districts estimated. This clinches the Reform League victory."
I turned to Carton.
Behind us, through the crowd, had followed a young lady and now Cartonhad no ears for anything except the pretty apology of Margaret Ashton.
Kenne
dy pulled me toward the door.
"We might as well concede Miss Ashton to Carton," he beamed. "Let's goout and watch the crowd."
THE END
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