XXII
THE CANARD
We did not have to wait long for the secret of the robbery of Carton tocome out. It was not in any "extras," or in the morning papers the nextday, but it came through a secret source of information to the ReformLeague.
"A clerk in the employ of the organization who is really a detectiveemployed by the Reform League," groaned Carton, as he told us the storyhimself the next morning at his office, "has just given us theinformation that they have prepared a long and circumstantial storyabout me--about my intimacy with Mrs. Ogleby and Murtha and someothers. The story of the robbery of my study is in the papers thismorning. To-morrow they plan to publish some photographs--alleged tohave been stolen."
"Photographs--Mrs. Ogleby," repeated Kennedy. "Real ones?"
"No," exclaimed Carton quickly, "of course not--fakes. Don't you seethe scheme? First they lay a foundation in the robbery, knowing thatthe public is satisfied with sensations, and that they will be sure tobelieve that the robbery was put up by some muckrakers to obtainmaterial for an expose. I wasn't worried last night. I knew I hadnothing to conceal."
"Then what of it?" I asked naively.
"A good deal of it," returned Carton excitedly, "The story is to be, asI understand it, that the fake pictures were among those stolen from meand that in a roundabout way they came into the possession of someonein the organization, without their knowing who the thief was. Of coursethey don't know who took them and the original plates or films aredestroyed, but they've concocted some means of putting a date on themearly in the spring."
"What are they that they should take such pains with them?" persistedKennedy, looking fixedly at Carton.
Carton met his look without flinching. "They are supposed to bephotographs of myself," he repeated. "One purports to represent me in agroup composed of Mrs. Ogleby, Murtha, another woman whom I do not evenknow, and myself. I am standing between Murtha and Mrs. Ogleby and welook very familiar. Another is a picture of the same four riding in acar, owned by Murtha. Oh, there are several of them, of that sort."
He paused as a dozen unspoken questions framed themselves in my mind."I don't hesitate to admit," he added, "that a few months ago I knewMrs. Ogleby--socially. But there was nothing to it. I never knew Murthawell, and the other woman I never saw. At various times I have beenpresent at affairs where she was, but I know that no pictures were evertaken, and even if there had been, I would not care, provided they toldthe truth about them. What I do care about is the sworn allegationthat, I understand, is to accompany these--these fakes."
His voice broke. "It's a lie from start to finish, but just think ofit, Kennedy," he went on. "Here is the story, and here, too, are thepictures--at least they will be, in print, to-morrow. Now, you knownothing could hurt the reform ticket worse than to have a scandal likethis raised at this time. There may be just enough people to believethat there is some basis for the suspicion to turn the tide against me.If it were earlier in the campaign, I might accept the issue, fight itout to a finish, and in the turn of events I should have really thebest sort of campaign material. But it is too late now to expose such aknavish trick on the Saturday before election."
"Can't we buy them off?" I ventured, perplexed beyond measure at thisnew and unexpected turn of events.
"No, I won't," persisted Carton, shutting his square jaw doggedly. "Iwon't be held up--even if that is possible."
"Miss Ashton on the wire," announced a boy from the outer office.
The look on Carton's face was a study. I saw directly what was thetrouble--far more important to him than a mere election.
"Tell her--I'm out--will be back soon," he muttered, for the first timehesitating to speak to her.
"You see," he continued blackly, "I'll fight if it takes my lastdollar, but I won't allow myself to be blackmailed out of a cent--no,not a cent," he thundered, a heightened look of determination fixingthe lines on his face as he brought his fist down with a rattling bangon the desk.
Kennedy was saying nothing. He was letting Carton ease his mind of theload which had been suddenly thrust upon it. Carton was now excitedlypacing the floor.
"They believe plainly," he continued, growing more excited as he pacedup and down, "that the pictures will of course be accepted by thepublic as among those stolen from me, and in that, I suppose, they areright. The public will swallow it. If I say I'll prosecute, they'lllaugh and tell me to go ahead, that they didn't steal the pictures. Ourinformant tells us that a hundred copies have been made of each andthat they have them ready to drop into the mail to the leading hundredpapers, not only of this city but of the state, in time for them toappear Sunday. They think that no amount of denying on our part candestroy the effect."
"That's it," I persisted. "The only way is to buy them off."
"But, Jameson," argued Carton, "I repeat--they are false. It is a plotof Dorgan's, the last fight of a boss, driven into a corner, for hislife. And it is meaner than if he had attempted to forge a letter.Pictures appeal to the eye much more than letters. That's what makesthe thing so dangerous. Dorgan knows how to make the best use of such aroorback on the eve of an election and even if I not only deny butprove that they are a fake, I'm afraid the harm will be done. I can'treach all the voters in time. Ten see such a charge to one who sees thedenial."
He looked from one to the other of us helplessly. "If we had a week ortwo, it might be all right. But I can't make any move to-day withoutmaking a fool of myself, nothing until they are published, as the lastbig thing of the campaign. Monday and Tuesday morning do not give metime to reply in the papers and hammer it in. Even if they were outnow, it would not give me time to make of it an asset instead of aliability. And then, too, it means that I am diverted by this thing,that I let up in the final efforts that we have so carefully planned tocap the campaign. That in itself is as much as Dorgan wants, anyway."
Kennedy had been, so far, little more than an interested listener, butnow he asked pointedly, "You have copies of the pictures?"
"No--but I've been promised them this morning."
"H'm," mused Craig, turning the crisis over in his mind. "We've hadalleged stolen and forged letters before, but alleged stolen and forgedphotographs are new. I'm not surprised that you are alarmed,Carton,--nor that Walter suggests buying them off. But I agree withyou, Carton--it's best to fight, to admit nothing, as you would implyby any other method."
"Then you think you can trace down the forger of those pictures beforeit is too late?" urged Carton, leaning forward almost like a prisonerin the dock to catch the words of the foreman of the jury.
"I haven't said I can do that--yet," measured Craig with provokingslowness.
"Say, Kennedy, you're not going to desert me?" reproached Carton.
Kennedy laughed as he put his hand on Carton's shoulder.
"I've been afraid of something like this," he said, "ever since I beganto realize that you had once been--er--foolish enough to become evenslightly acquainted with that adventuress, Mrs. Ogleby. My advice is tofight, not to get in wrong by trying to dicker, for that might amountto confession, and suit Dorgan's purpose just as well. Photographs," headded sententiously, "are like statistics. They don't lie unless thepeople who make them do. But it's hard to tell what a liar canaccomplish with either, in an election. I--I don't know that I'd desertyou--if the pictures were true. I'd be sure there was some otherexplanation."
"I knew it," responded Carton heartily. "Your hand on that, Kennedy.Say, I think I've shaken hands with half the male population of thiscity since I was nominated, but this means more than any of them. Spareno reasonable expense and--get the goods, no matter whom it hits higherup--Langhorne--anybody. And, for God's sake get it in time--there'smore than an election that hangs on it!"
Carton looked Kennedy squarely in the eye again, and we all understoodwhat it was he meant that was at stake. It might be possible after allto gloss over almost anything and win the election, but none of usdared to think what it might mean if Miss Ashton not only suspectedt
hat Carton had been fraternizing with the bosses but also that therehad been or by some possibility could be anything really in commonbetween him and Mrs. Ogleby.
That, after all, I saw was the real question. How would Miss Ashtontake it? Could she ever forgive him if it were possible for Langhorneto turn the tables and point with scorn at the man who had once beenhis rival for her hand? What might be the effect on her of anydisillusionment, of any ridicule that Langhorne might artfully heap up?As we left Carton, I shared with Kennedy his eagerness to get at thetruth, now, and win the fight--the two fights.
"I want to see Miss Ashton, first," remarked Kennedy when we wereoutside.
Personally I thought that it was a risky business, but felt thatKennedy must know best.
When we arrived at the Reform League headquarters, the clerks and girlshad already set to work, and the office was a hive of industry in therush of winding up the campaign. Typewriters were clicking, clippingswere being snipped out of a huge stack of newspapers and pasted intolarge scrapbooks, circulars were being folded and made ready to mailfor the final appeal.
Carton's office there had been in the centre of the suite. On one sidewere the cashier and bookkeeper, the clerical force and the speakers'bureau, where spellbinders of all degrees were getting instructions,final tours were being laid out, and reports received of meetingsalready held.
On the other side was the press bureau, with its large and activeforce, in charge of Miss Ashton.
As we entered we saw Miss Ashton very busy over something. Her back wastoward us, but the moment she turned at hearing us we could see thatsomething was the matter.
Kennedy wasted no time in coming to the point of his visit. We hadscarcely seated ourselves beside her desk when he leaned over and saidin a low voice, "Miss Ashton, I think I can trust you. I have called tosee you about a matter of vital importance to Mr. Carton."
She did not betray even by a fleeting look on her proud face what thetrue state of her feelings was.
"I don't know whether you know, but an attempt is being made to slanderMr. Carton," went on Kennedy.
Still she said nothing, though it was evident that she was thinkingmuch.
"I suppose in a large force like this that it is not impossible thatyour political enemies may have a spy or two," observed Kennedy,glancing about at the score or more clerks busily engaged in gettingout the "literature."
"I have sometimes thought that myself," she murmured, "but of course Idon't know. There isn't anything for them to discover in THIS office,though."
Kennedy looked up quickly at the significant stress on the word "this."She saw that Kennedy was watching. Margaret Ashton might have made agood actress, that is, in something in which her personal feelings werenot involved, as they were in this case. She was now pale and agitated.
"I--I can't believe it," she managed to say. "Oh, Mr. Kennedy--I wouldalmost rather not have known it at all,--only I suppose I must haveknown it sooner or later."
"Believe me, Miss Ashton," soothed Kennedy, "you ought to know. It ison you that I depend for many things. But, tell me, how do you knowalready? I didn't think--it was known."
She was still pale, and replied nervously, "Our detective in theorganization brought the pictures up here--one of the girls opened themby mistake--it got about the office--I couldn't help but know."
"Miss Ashton," remonstrated Kennedy soothingly, "I beg you to be calm.I had no idea you would take it like this, no idea. Please, please.Remember pictures can lie--just like words."
"I--I hope you're right," she managed to reply slowly. "I'm all brokenup by it. I'm ready to resign. My faith in human nature is shaken. No,I won't say anything about Mr. Carton to anyone. But it cuts me to haveto think that Hartley Langhorne may have been right. He always used tosay that every man had his price. I am afraid this will do great harmto the cause of reform and through it to the woman suffrage cause whichmade me cast myself in with the League. I--I can hardly believe--"
Kennedy was still looking earnestly at her. "Miss Ashton," he implored,"believe nothing. Remember one of the first rules of politics in theorganization you are fighting is loyalty. Wait until--"
"Wait?" she echoed. "How can I? I hate Mr. Carton for--for evenknowing--" she paused just in time to substitute Mr. Murtha for Mrs.Ogleby--"such men as Mr. Murtha--secretly."
She bit her lip at thus betraying her feelings, but what she had seenhad evidently affected her deeply. It was as though the feet of heridol had turned to clay.
"Just think it over," urged Kennedy. "Don't be too harsh. Don't doanything rash. Suspend judgment. You won't regret it."
Kennedy was apparently doing some rapid thinking. "Let me have thephotographs," he asked at length.
"They are in Mr. Carton's office," she answered, as if she would notsoil her hands by touching the filthy things.
We excused ourselves and went into Carton's office.
There they were wrapped up, and across the package was written by oneof the clerks, "Opened by mistake."
Kennedy opened the package again. Sure enough, there were thephotographs--as plain as they could be, the group including Carton,Mrs. Ogleby, Murtha, and another woman, standing on the porch of agabled building in the sunshine, again the four speeding in a touringcar, of which the number could be read faintly, and other lessinteresting snapshots.
As I looked at them I said nothing, but I must admit that the wholething began to assume a suspicious look in my mind in connection withvarious hints I had heard dropped by organization men about probinginto the past, and other insinuations. I felt that far from aidingCarton, things were now getting darker. There was nothing but hisunsupported word that he had not been in such groups to counterbalancethe existence of the actual pictures themselves, on the surface agraphic clincher to Dorgan's story. Kennedy, however, after anexamination of the photographs clung no less tenaciously to a purposehe already had in mind, and instead of leaving them for Carton, tookthem himself, leaving a note instead.
He stopped again to speak to Margaret Ashton. I did not hear all of theconversation, but one phrase struck me, "And the worst of it is that hecalled me up a little while ago and tried to act toward me in the sameold way--and that after I know what I know. I--I could detect it in hisvoice. He knew he was concealing something from me."
What Kennedy said to her, I do not know, but I don't think it had mucheffect.
"That's the most difficult and unfortunate part of the whole affair,"he sighed as we left. "She believes it."
I had no comment that was worth while. What was to be done? If peoplebelieved it generally, Carton was ruined.