CHAPTER XVI
CURLY'S REPORT
"And now my house-mate is Grief. But she is wise and beautiful as theCanyon is wise and beautiful and I claim both as my own."--_Enoch'sDiary_.
The Washington papers, the next morning, contained the accounts of twovery interesting dinner parties. One was a detailed story of thePresident's dinner. The other told of the public meeting andreconciliation of Secretary Fowler and Hancock Brown. The eveningpapers contained, as did the morning editions the day following, widelyvaried comment on the two episodes.
Enoch did not see the President for nearly a week after the dinnerparty, excepting at the cabinet meeting. Then, in response to atelephone call one evening, he went to the White House and told thePresident of his break with Fowler.
"That was a curious thing for him to do," commented the chiefexecutive. "It looks to me like a plain case of losing his temper."
"It struck me so," agreed Enoch.
"Do you think that he had anything to do with the publishing of thatcanard about you, Huntingdon?"
"I would not be surprised if he had. If I find that he was mixed up init, Mr. President, I shall have to punish him as well as Brown."
"Horsewhipping is what Brown deserves," growled the President."Huntingdon, why are they after Cheney?"
"I've told him to find out," replied Enoch. "I want him to put himselfin the position of being able to give them the lie direct, and thenresign."
"Who is after him?"
"I believe, if we can probe far enough, we'll find this same Mexicancontroversy at the bottom of it. Cheney has been immensely interestedin the fuel problem. He's given signal help to the Bureau of Mines."
The telephone rang, and the President answered it. He returned to hisarm-chair shortly, with a curious smile on his face.
"Secretary Fowler wants to see me. I did not tell him that you arecalling. As far as he has informed me, you and he are still on afriendly basis. He will be along shortly, and I shall be keenlyinterested in observing the meeting."
Enoch smoked his cigar in silence for some moments before he said, witha chuckle:
"I like a fight, if only it's in the open."
"So do I!" exclaimed the President.
The conversation was desultory until the door opened, admitting theSecretary of State. He gave Enoch a glance and greeted the chiefexecutive, then bowed formally to Enoch, and stood waiting.
"Sit down, Fowler! Try one of those cigars! They haven't killedHuntingdon yet."
"I beg your pardon, Mr. President," stiffly, "it is quite impossiblefor me to make any pretense of friendship for the present Secretary ofthe Interior."
The President raised his eyebrows. "What's the trouble, Fowler?"
"You may have heard," Fowler's voice was sardonic, "that your Secretaryof the Interior swung around the circle on a speech-making trip thisfall!"
"I heard of it," replied the chief executive, "probably before you did,because I asked Mr. Huntingdon to make the trip."
"And may I ask, Mr. President, why you asked this gentleman tointerfere with my prerogatives?"
"Come! Come, Fowler! You are too clever a man to attempt thehoity-toity manner with me! You undoubtedly read all of Huntingdon'sspeeches with care, and you observed that his entire plea was for thestates to allow the Federal Government to proceed in its normalfunction of developing the water power and oil resources of thiscountry; that a few American business men should not be permitted tohog the water power of the state for private gain, nor to embroil us inwar with Mexico because of private oil holdings there. You will recallthat whatever information he used, he procured himself and, beforeusing, laid it in your hands. You laughed at it. You will recall thatI asked you, a month before Huntingdon went out, if you would not swinground the circle, and you begged to be excused."
Still standing, the Secretary of State bowed and said, "Mr. Huntingdonhas too distinguished an advocate to permit me to argue the matterhere."
Enoch spoke suddenly. "Although I'm grateful to the President, Mr.Fowler, I need no advocate. What in thunder are you angry about? Ifyou and I are to quarrel, why not let me know the _casus belli_!"
"I've stated my grievance," said Fowler flatly.
"Your new attitude toward me has nothing to do, I suppose," suggestedEnoch, lighting a fresh cigar, "with the fact that you dined withHancock Brown the other evening?"
Fowler tapped his foot softly on the rug, but did not reply. Enochwent on. "I don't want to quarrel with you, Fowler. I'm a sincereadmirer of yours. But I'm going to tell you frankly, that I don't likeBrown and that Brown must keep his tongue off of me. And I'm deeplydisappointed in you. You did not need Brown to add to your prestige inAmerica."
"I don't know what the idea is, Fowler," said the President suddenly,"but I do know that the aplomb and finesse with which you conduct yourofficial business are entirely lacking in this affair. It looks to meas if you had a personal grievance here. Come, Fowler, old man, youare too brilliant, too valuable--"
The Secretary of State interrupted by bowing once more. "I very muchappreciate my scolding, Mr. President. With your permission, I'llwithdraw until you feel more kindly toward me."
The President and Enoch did not speak for several minutes after Fowlerhad left. Then the President said, "Enoch, how are you going to handleBrown?"
"I haven't fully made up my mind," replied Enoch.
"The bitterest pill you could make him swallow would be to put yourselfin the White House at the next election."
"I'm afraid Brown would look on that as less a punishment than amisfortune." Enoch smiled, as he rose and said-good night.
Nearly a month passed before Enoch heard from Cheney. During that timeneither from Fowler nor from the Brown papers was there any intimationof consciousness of Enoch's existence. He believed that as long as hechose to remain silent on the Mexican situation that they wouldcontinue to ignore him. There could be little doubt that both Brownand the public looked on Enoch's sudden silence following the Luigistatement as complete rout. Enoch knew this and writhed under theknowledge as he bided his time.
On a morning early in January, Charley Abbott answered a telephone callwhich interrupted him while was taking the Secretary's dictation.
"It's Mr. Cheney!" he said, "He's very anxious to see you for tenminutes, Mr. Secretary."
"Crowd him in, Abbott," replied Enoch.
Abbott nodded, and in less than half an hour the director of the Surveycame in.
"Mr. Secretary," he began without preliminaries, "I took your adviceand began investigating the trouble spots. Among other steps I took, Idetached two men temporarily from a Colorado River expedition and sentthem into Texas to discover if possible what the ordinary oilprospectors felt toward the Survey."
Enoch's face brightened. "That was an interesting move!" he exclaimed."Were these experienced oil men?"
"One of them, Harden, knew something of drilling. Well, they struck upsome sort of a pseudo partnership with a man, a miner, name Field, andthe three of them undertook to locate some wells in southern Texas.They were near the Mexican border and were heckled constantly by bandsof Mexicans. Finally, as the man Field, Curly, Harden calls him in hisreport, was standing guard over the horses one night, he was shotthrough the abdomen. Three days later, he died."
"Died!" exclaimed Enoch. "Are you sure of that?"
"So Harden reports. Field knew that his wound was fatal. He wasperfectly cool and conscious to the last, and he spent the greater partof the period before his death, dictating to Harden a long story aboutHancock Brown's early activities in Mexico. He swore Harden toabsolute secrecy as to details and made him promise to send the storyto some lawyer here in Washington, who seems to have taken a smallportion of the Canyon trip with the expedition and who had prospectedwith Field."
"And Curly Field is dead!" repeated Enoch.
"Yes, poor fellow! Now then, here's the point, both Harden andForrester, the other Survey man,
are morally certain that there is awell-organized gang whose business is to make oil prospecting on theborder unhealthy. They have several lists of names they wantinvestigated, and they suggest that Secret Service men be put on thejob, at once. There was a small item in Texas papers about the killingand a New York paper was after me this morning for the story. That'swhy I hurried to you."
"Did you gather that Field's story had anything to do with the presenttrouble with Mexico?" asked Enoch.
The Director shook his head. "No, Mr. Secretary. I merely broughtthat detail in because Brown is known to be your enemy and--"
He hesitated as he saw the grim lines deepening around Enoch's mouth.The Secretary tapped the desk thoughtfully with his pencil, then said:
"Keep it all out of the papers, Mr. Cheney, if you please. Or, ratherif you are willing, let the publicity end be handled from this office.Send the newspaper men to Mr. Abbott."
"That will be a relief!" exclaimed Cheney. "Shall I go ahead on thelines indicated?"
"Yes, and bring me your next budget of news!"
As Cheney went out, Enoch rang for Jonas. "Jonas, I wish you'd go homeand see if there is any mail there for Judge Smith. If there is, lockit in the desk in my room," tossing Jonas the key.
"Yes, Mr. Secretary," exclaimed Jonas, disappearing out the door. Hereturned shortly to report that mail had arrived for Judge Smith, andthat it was safely locked away.
Enoch had no engagement that evening. When he had finished hissolitary dinner he went to his room and took out of the desk drawer alarge document envelope and a letter. The letter he opened.
"My dear Judge: Forrester and I have just completed a sad bit of work,the taking of poor Curly's body back to Arizona for burial. Soon afteryou left, we took Milton over to Wilson's ranch and left Ag to look outfor him. He's coming along fine, by the way. We wired our dilemma toour Chief in Washington and he told us to go into southern Texas andinvestigate some conditions there for him. To our surprise, Curlywanted to go along, as soon as he found we were later going into Mexicoto an old stamping ground of his. Well, we had a great time on theBorder. It wasn't so bad until the hombres began to get nasty, and asyou may recall, neither Curly nor my now good pal Forr stand well undersniping. It got so finally that we had to stand watch over our outfitat night, and Curly got a bullet in his bladder. He bled so wecouldn't move him and Forr went out, thirty miles, after a doctor.While we waited, Curly got me to set down the stuff I am sending youunder separate cover. He also made his will and left you his miningclaims, all merely prospects so far. He says you know how he came tofeel as he does about Brown and Fowler. However that may be, itcertainly is the dirtiest story I ever heard one man tell on othersand, dying though he was, I begged Curly to let me tear the paper upand let the story go into the grave with him. But he held me to mypromise, so I'm sending it to you, with this apology for contaminatingeither of us with the dope. Poor old Curly! He was a man who'd been alittle embittered by some early trouble, but he was a good scout, forall that.
"We all missed you and Jonas,--don't forget Jonas!--very much, afteryou left. Milton said half a dozen times that when he gets in shape togo on with the work in the spring, he was going to try to persuade youto finish the trip with us. So say we all! With best wishes,sincerely yours, C. L. Harden."
After Enoch had finished Harden's letter he replaced it in its envelopeslowly and dropped it into the desk drawer. Next, as slowly, he pickedup the bulkier envelope and placed it on edge on the mantel under theMoran painting. Then he began to walk the floor.
He knew that, in that dingy envelope, lay the whip by which he coulddrive Brown to public apology. As far as fearing any publicity withwhich Brown could retaliate, Enoch felt immune. He believed that hehad sounded the uttermost depths of humiliation. And at first hegloated over the thought that now Brown could be made to suffer as hehad suffered. He would give the story to the newspapers, exactly as ithad come to him. And what a setting! Curly shot from ambush, bycreatures, it was highly probable, who were ignorantly actuated byBrown's own crooked Mexican policy. Curly flinging, with his dyinghands, the boomerang that was to strike Brown down. That incidentallyit would pull Fowler down, moved Enoch little. Fowler too would behoist by his own petard.
For a long hour Enoch paced the floor. Then he came to a sudden pausebefore the mantel and turned on the light above the painting of BrightAngel trail. Outside the room sounded the clatter of Washington'sstreets. Enoch did not hear it. Once more a passionate, sullen boy,he was clinging to his mule on the twisting trail. Once more sweptover him the horror of the Canyon and of human beings that had torturedthe soul of the boy, Enoch, on that first visit into the Canyon'sdepths. The sweat started to his forehead and, as he stared, hegrasped the mantel with both hands. Then he picked up the envelope.His hand shook as he inserted a finger under the flap, lifting his eyesas he did so, once more to the painting.
He paused. Unearthly calm, drifting mists, colors too ephemeral, toosubtle for words--drawn in the Canyon!
The lift of the Ida under his knees, the eager welter of the whirlpool,the sting of the icy Colorado dragging him under, the flash of Diana'sface and his winning fight with death.
The chaos of the river and two tiny figures staggering hour after hourover the hopeless, impossible chasms and buttes; Harden going to therescue of Forrester.
Starlight on the desert. Diana's touch on his forehead, her tender,gentle fingers smoothing his hair as they gazed together at themysterious shadowy depth beyond which flowed the Colorado; that tendertouch on his hair and forehead and the desert stars thrilling near,infinitely remote.
Suddenly Enoch, resting his arm on the mantel, dropped his foreheadupon it and stood so, the wonderful glowing colors of the paintingseeming to shimmer on his bronze hair. At last, at the sound ofJonas's footstep in the hall, he lifted his head, turned off the lightabove the painting, crossed to his desk and, dropping the stillunopened envelope into a secret drawer, locked it and put the key inhis pocket.
The following morning Senator Havisham came to see Enoch. He was oneof the leading members of Enoch's party, a virile, progressive man,very little older than the Secretary himself. After shaking hands withEnoch and taking one of his cigars, he sat staring at him as if hescarcely knew how to begin.
Enoch smiled half sadly. "Go ahead, Senator," he said. "You and Ihave known each other a long time."
The Senator smiled in return. "Yes, we have, Huntingdon, and I'm proudof the fact. That is why I was asked to undertake this errand whichhas an unpleasant as well as a pleasant side. We want you to run asour presidential nominee. But before we pass the word around, we wantyou to issue a denial of the Brown canard that will settle that kind ofmud slinging at you for good and all."
Enoch's face was a cold mask. "I can't deny it, Havisham. The factsstated are true. The inferences drawn as to my character are false.The bringing of Miss Allen into the story was a blasphemy. All thingsconsidered, as far as publicity goes, utter silence is my onlyrecourse. As for my private retaliation on Brown, that's another and apersonal matter."
Senator Havisham looked at Enoch through half-shut eyes.
"Huntingdon, let me issue that statement, exactly as you have made it."
"No," replied Enoch flatly. "The less reference made by us to theBrown canard, the better chance of its being forgotten."
The Senator puffed silently, then said, "Why does Brown hate you?"
"I have fought his Mexican policy."
"Yes, I know, but is that the only reason?"
"As far as my knowledge goes," replied Enoch. "Of course, now thathe's openly committed to Fowler, he has an added grievance."
"There is nothing personal between you?"
"I never laid eyes on the man in my life. I never did him anintentional injury. I am merely in his way. I always have despisedhis papers and now I despise him. Understand, Senator, that, withoutregard to diplomacy, Brown and I must have it out."
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br /> Havisham shook his head. "You'd better let him alone, Huntingdon. Hehas an awful weapon in his papers and he can smear you in the publicmind no matter how obviously false his stories may be."
Enoch's lips tightened. "I'm not afraid of Brown. But all thingsconsidered, Havisham, you'd better leave me out of your list ofpresidential possibilities."
"There is no list! Or, at least, you're the list!" The Senator'slaugh was a little rueful.
"And," Enoch went on, "strange as it may seem, I'm not sure that I wantthe Presidency. It seems to me that I might be far more useful in theCapitol than in the White House."
"Not to the party!" exclaimed Havisham quickly.
"No, to the country!"
"Perhaps, but it's a debatable matter, which I don't intend to debate.You are our man. If you won't deny the Brown canard, then we must goahead without the denial."
Enoch looked thoughtfully from the window, then turned back to theSenator. "There is no great hurry, is there? Give me a month to getmatters clear in my own mind."
"There is no hurry, except that the Brown papers work while otherssleep, and Fowler is Brown's nominee. However, take your month, oldman. I don't doubt that you have troubles of your own!"
Enoch nodded. Havisham shook hands heartily and departed, and theSecretary turned to his loaded desk. The Alaskan situation was causinghim keen anxiety. The old war between private ownership, with all itsgreed and unfairness to the common citizen, and government control,with all its cumbersome and often inefficient methods, had reachedacute proportions in the great northern province. Enoch was faced withthe necessity of deciding between the two. It must be a long distancedecision and any verdict he rendered was predestined to have in itelements of injustice. For days Enoch thrust, as far as possible, hispersonal problem into the background while he struggled with thisgreater one. It was only at night that the thought of Dianaoverwhelmed all else to torture him and yet to fill him with the joy ofperfect memories.
It was on the morning after he had given his Alaskan decision thatCharley Abbott, eyebrows raised, laid a Brown paper before theSecretary, with the comment:
"Either Cheney or some one in Cheney's office has leaked."
It was a twisted story of Curly's death. Curly, according to thisversion, had been doing his utmost to keep two Survey men, Harden andForrester, from hogging for obscure government purposes, certain oillands, belonging to Curly. In the ill feeling that had resulted, Curlyhad been shot. Before his death, however, he had been able to write astatement of the affair which had been sent to a well-known lawyer inWashington. He also had left sufficient property to the lawyer toenable him to expose the workings of the Geological Survey to its bones.
Enoch's face reddened. "I don't know what there is about a piece ofwork like this that gets under my skin so intolerably!" he exclaimed."Whether it's the cruelty of it, or the dishonesty or the bruteselfishness, I don't know. But we are going to answer this, Abbott."
"How shall we go about it, sir? We might find out if Cheney knowsthese men personally and have him make a statement."
"Have him tell of their previous records," said Enoch. "Let the worldknow the heroism and the self-sacrifice of those men. And at the endlet him give the lie direct to the Brown papers. Tell him I'll sign itfor him."
"That will give Brown just the opening he's looking for, Mr. Secretary,I'm afraid," said Abbott, doubtfully. "I mean, your signature."
"I'm ready for Brown," replied Enoch shortly.
Still Charley hesitated. "What is it, Abbott?" asked the Secretary.
"It's Miss Allen I'm thinking about," blurted out the younger man."You've gone through the worst that they can hand to a man, so you'venothing more to fear. But if they bring her into it again, Mr.Secretary, I'll go crazy!"
The veins stood up on Enoch's forehead, and he said, with a coldvehemence that made Abbott recoil, "If Miss Allen's name is brought upwith mine in that manner again, I shall kill Brown."
Charley moistened his lips. "Well, but after all, Mr. Huntingdon,Harden and Forrester are just a couple of unknown chaps. Is yourchampioning them worth the risk to Miss Allen?"
"Miss Allen would be the last person to desire that kind of shielding.I've reached my limit, Abbott, as far as the Brown papers areconcerned. They've got to keep their foul pens off the Department ofthe Interior. I'd a little rather kill Brown than not. Why shoulddecent citizens live in fear of his dirty newsmongers? Life is not sosweet to me, Abbott, nor the future so full of promise that I greatlymind sacrificing either."
"It's just--it's just that I care so much about Miss Allen," reiteratedCharley, miserably and doggedly.
Enoch drew a quick breath. The two men stared at each other, pain andhopelessness in both faces. Enoch recovered himself quickly.
"I'm sorry, my boy," he said gently, "but life, particularly publiclife, is full of bitter situations like this. Brown must be stoppedsomewhere by somebody. Let's not count the cost. Get in touch withCheney and have that statement ready for the morning paper."
He turned back to his letters and Abbott left the room. Before he wenthome that night, Enoch had signed the very readable account of some ofHarden's and Forrester's exploits in the Survey and had added, beforesigning, a line to the effect that the slurs and insinuations regardingthe two men which had appeared in the morning papers were entirelyuntrue.
For several days there was no reply from the Brown camp. Enoch'sfriends commented to him freely on his temerity in deliberately drawingBrown on, but Enoch only smiled and shrugged his shoulders, whileCurly's statement lay unopened in his drawer. But underneath his calm,the still raw wound of Brown's earlier attack tingled as it awaited therubbing in of the salt.
Finally, one morning, Charley laid a Brown paper on Enoch's desk. TheSecretary of the Interior, said the account, had denied the truth ofcertain statements made by the publication. A repetition of the storyfollowed. A careful reinvestigation of the facts, the account went on,showed the case to be as originally stated. The well-known lawyer hadbeen interviewed. He had told the reporter that the contents ofField's letter were surprising beyond words and that as soon as he hadmade full preparations some arrests would follow that would startle thecountry. The lawyer, whose name was withheld for obvious reasons, wasa man whose integrity was beyond question. He had no intention ofusing the funds willed him by Field, for he and Field had grown uptogether in a little New England town. The money would be put in trustfor Field's son, who would be sent to college with the lawyer's ownboy. In the meantime, the Secretary of the Interior would not bebeyond a most respectful and discriminating investigation himself. Itwas known that he had cut short an unsuccessful speaking tour for verygood reasons, and had disappeared into the desert country for a month.Where had he been?
Enoch suddenly laughed as he laid the paper down. "It is so childish,so preposterous, that even a fool wouldn't swallow it!" he exclaimed.
"It's just the sort of thing that people swallow whole," returnedAbbott.
"Even at that, it's absolutely unimportant," said Enoch. Again Charleydisagreed with him. "Mr. Secretary, it's very important, for it's athreat. It says that if you don't keep still, they will investigateyour desert trip. And you know what they could make of that!"
"Let them keep their tongues off my Department, then," said Enoch,sternly. Nevertheless when Abbott had left him alone he did not turnimmediately to his work. His cigar grew cold, and the ink dried on hispen, while he sat with the look of grim determination in his eyes andlips, deepening.
He dined out that night and was tired and depressed when he returnedhome. Jonas was smiling when he let the Secretary in and took his coat.
"Boss, they's a nice little surprise waiting for you up on your desk."
"Who'd be surprising me, Jonas? No one on earth but you, I'm afraid."
Jonas chuckled. "You're a bad guesser, boss! A bad guesser! How comeyou to think I could do anything to surprise you?"
Enoch went into his brightly lighted room and stopped before his deskwith a low exclamation of pleasure. A large photograph stood againstthe book rack. Three little naked Indian children with feathers intheir hair were dancing in the foreground. Behind them lay an ancientcliff dwelling half in ruins. To the left an Indian warrior, armsfolded on his broad chest stood watching the children, his face full ofan inscrutable sadness. The children were extraordinarily beautiful.Diana had worked with a very rapid lens and had caught them atilt, inthe full abandonment of the child to joy in motion. The shadowed,mysterious, pathetic outline of the cliff dwelling, the somber figureof the chief only enhanced the vivid sense of motion and glee in thechildren. The picture was intrinsically lovely even without thathaunting sense of the desert's significance that made Diana's workdoubly intriguing.
Enoch's depression dropped from him as if it had never been. "Oh, mydearest!" he murmured, "you did not forget, did you! It is your veryself you have sent me, your own whimsical joyousness!"
Jonas tapped softly on the door.
"Come in, Jonas! Isn't it fine! How do you suppose a photograph cantell so much!"
"It's Miss Diana, it ain't the camera!" exclaimed Jonas, with achuckle. "Na-che says she ain't never seen her when she couldn'tsmile. That buck looks like that fellow Wee-tah. Boss, do youremember the night he took me out to see that desert charm?"
"Tell me about it, Jonas. It will rest me more than sleep."
Enoch sank back in his chair where he could face the photograph, andJonas established himself on the hearth rug and told his story withgusto. "I got a lot of faith in Injun charms," he said, when he hadfinished.
"They didn't get us our trip down Bright Angel," sighed Enoch, even ashe smiled.
"We'll get it yet, see if we don't!" protested Jonas stoutly. "Na-cheand I ain't give up for a minute. Don't laugh about it, boss."
"I'm not laughing," replied Enoch gravely. "I'm thinking how fortunateI am in my friends, you being among those present, Jonas."
"As I always aim to be," agreed Jonas. "Do you think you could maybesleep now, boss?"
"Yes, I think so, Jonas," and Enoch was as good as his word.
Nearly two weeks passed before the attack on the Department of theInterior was renewed. This time it was a deliberate assault on Enoch'shonesty. The Alaskan decision served as a text. This was held up as amodel of corruption and an example of the type of decision to beexpected from a gambling lawyer. Followed a list of half a dozen ofEnoch's rulings on water power control, on forest conservation and oncoal mining, each one interpreted in the light of Enoch's mania forgambling. A man, the article said in closing, may, if he wishes, takechances with his own fortune or his own reputation, but what right hashe to risk the public domain?
Several days went by after the appearance of this edifying story, butEnoch made no move. Then the President summoned him to the White House.
"Enoch, shall you let that screed go unchallenged?" he demanded.
"What can I say, Mr. President?" asked Enoch. "And really, that sortof thing doesn't bother me much. It is only the usual political mudslinging. They are feeling me out. They want more than anything toget me into a newspaper controversy with them. I am going to bedifficult to get."
"So I see!" retorted the President. "If you are not careful, old man,people will begin to think Brown is right and you are afraid."
Enoch laughed. "I am not afraid of him or any other skunk. But also,in spite of my red hair, I have a good deal of patience. I am waitingfor our friends to trot out their whole bag of tricks."
"What do you hear from Fowler?" asked the President.
"Nothing. I am desperately sorry that he has got mixed up with Brown.He is a brilliant man and the party needs him. I hope his attitudetoward me has made no break in the pleasant relationship between youand him, Mr. President."
"It did for a short time. But we got together over the Dutch Guianamatter and he's quite himself again. As you say, the party can illafford to lose him. But a man who works with Brown I consider lost tothe party, no matter if he keeps the name."
"Fowler used to like me," said Enoch, thoughtfully.
"He certainly did. But the reason that Fowler will always be apolitician and not a statesman is that he is still blind to the factthat the biggest thing a man can do for himself politically is toforget himself and work for the party."
"You mean for the country, do you not?" asked Enoch.
"It should be the same thing. If Fowler can get beyond himself, he'llbe a statesman. But he's fifty and characters solidify at fifty. He'sbeen a first rate Secretary of State, because he's a first rateinternational lawyer, because his tact is beyond reproach and becausehe is forced by the nature of his work to think nationally and notpersonally."
"I'm sorry he's taken up with Brown," repeated Enoch. "There never wassuch a dearth of good men in national politics before."
"I've known him for many years," the President said thoughtfully, "andI never knew him to do a dishonest thing. He's full of horse sense.I've heard rumors that in his early days in the Far West he got in witha bad crowd, but he threw them off and any one that knew details hasdecently forgotten them. I've tried several times to speak to himabout this new alliance but although he's never shown temper as he didthat night when you were here, I get nowhere with him. His ideas forthe party are sane and sound and constructive."
"You mean for the country, do you not, sir?" asked Enoch again with asmile.
The older man smiled too. "Hanged if I don't mean both!" he exclaimed.
"What do you think of Havisham as presidential material?" asked Enoch.
"Too good-natured! A splendid fellow but not quite enough chin! Bythe way, I understand you refused to commit yourself to him the otherday."
Enoch rose with a sigh. "Life to some people seems to be a simple aye!aye! nay! nay! proposition. It never has been to me. Each problem ofmy life presents many facets, and the older I grow the more I realizethat most of my decisions concerning myself have been made for onefacet and not for all. This time I'm trying to make a multipledecision, as it were."
"I think I understand," said the Chief executive. "Good night, Enoch."
And Enoch went home to the waiting Jonas.
CHAPTER XVII
REVENGE IS SWEET
"And then, after that day on the Colorado was ended, after the agony oftoil, the wrestling with death while our little boats withstood theshock of destiny itself, oh, then, the wonder and the peace of thenight's camp. Rest! Rest at last!"--_Enoch's Diary_.
January slipped swiftly by and February, with its alternate rain andsnow came on. The splendid mental and physical poise that Enoch hadbrought back with him from the Canyon stood him in good stead under thepressure of office business which never had been so heavy. Onemorning, late in February, Cheney came to see the Secretary.
"Well, Mr. Cheney, have you made your discovery?" asked Enoch.
Cheney nodded slowly. "But I didn't make it until last night, Mr.Huntingdon. I've followed up all sorts of leads that landed menowhere. Last night, a newspaper reporter came to my house. He's withthe News now, but he used to be with Brown. He came round to learnsomething about our men finding gold in the Grand Canyon. He wantedthe usual fool thing, an expression of opinion from me as Director. Assoon as he let slip that he'd been on the Brown papers, I began toquestion him and I found that he'd been fired because he'd refused togo out to Arizona and follow up your vacation trip. But, he said, twoweeks ago they started another fellow on the job."
Enoch did not stir by so much as an eye wink.
"I thought you ought to know this, although, personally, it may be amatter of indifference to you."
Enoch nodded. "And what are your conclusions, Mr. Cheney?"
"That Brown is determined to discredit the Department of the Interiorand you, until you are ousted and a man in sympathy with his Mexicanpolicy is put in."
"I agree with you, entirely. And
what are your plans?"
"I shall stick by my Bureau until we lick him. I haven't the slightestdesire to desert my Chief. When I thought it was I they were after, Ifelt differently."
"Thanks, Mr. Cheney! Will you give me the name of the reporter of whomyou were speaking."
"James C. Capp. He's not a bad chap, I think."
Enoch nodded and Cheney took his departure. There were severalimportant conferences after this which Enoch cleared off rapidly andwith his usual efficiency. When, however, Jonas announced luncheon,Abbott asked for a little delay.
"Here is an interesting item from this morning's Brown," he said.Enoch read the clipping carefully.
"The visitor to El Tovar, the rim hotel of the Grand Canyon receivessome curious impressions of our governmental prerogatives. Recently agovernment expedition down the Colorado was too well equipped withspirits and had some severe smash-ups. Two of the men became disgustedand quit, but nothing daunted, Milton, the leader took on two fugitivesfrom justice in Utah and proceeded on his way. A week later, however,there was a complete smash-up both moral and material. The boats werelost and the expedition disbanded. The expensive equipment lies in thebottom of the Colorado. So much for the efficiency and morale of theU. S. Geological Survey."
Enoch laughed, but there was an unpleasant twist to his mouth as he didit.
"Abbott," he said, "will you please find out if Brown is in New York.Wherever he is, I am going to see him, immediately and I want you to gowith me. No, don't be alarmed! There will be no personal violence,yet."
The locating of the newspaper publisher was a simple task. An hourafter lunch, Charley reported Brown as in his New York office.
"Very well," said Enoch, "telegraph him that we will meet him at hisoffice at nine to-night. We will take the three o'clock train andreturn at midnight."
It was not quite nine o'clock when Enoch and Charley entered HancockBrown's office. The building was buzzing with newspaper activities,but the publisher's office was quiet. A sleepy office attendant wasawaiting them. With considerable ceremony he ushered the two acrossthe elaborate reception room and throwing open a door, said:
"The Secretary of the Interior, sir."
A small man, with a Van Dyke beard and gentle brown eyes crossed theroom with his hand outstretched.
"Mr. Huntingdon! this is a pleasure and an honor!"
"It is neither, sir," said Enoch, giving no heed to the outstretchedhand.
Brown raised his eyebrow. "Will you be seated, Mr. Huntingdon?"
"Not in your office, sir. Mr. Brown, I have endured from your handsthat which no _man_ would think to make another endure." Enoch'sbeautiful voice was low but its resonance filled the office. His eyeswere like blue ice. "I have remained silent, for reasons of my own,under your personal attacks on me, but now I have come to tell you thatthe attacks on the Department of the Interior and on my personal lifemust cease."
Hancock Brown looked at Enoch with gentle reproach in his eyes."Surely you don't want to muzzle the press, Mr. Huntingdon?"
"We're not speaking of the press," returned Enoch, "I have sincereadmiration for the press of this country."
Brown flushed a little at this. "I shall continue on exactly the lineI have laid down," he said quietly.
"If," said Enoch, clearly, "Miss Allen is brought into your publicationagain either directly or by implication, I shall come to your office,Mr. Brown, and shoot you. Abbott, you are the witness to what I sayand to the conversation that has led to it."
"I am, Mr. Secretary," said Charley. "And if for any reason you shouldbe unable to attend to the matter, I would do the shooting for you."
"This will make interesting copy," said Brown.
"I have within my control," Enoch went on, steadily, "the means toforce you to cease to put out lies concerning the Department of theInterior and me. I seriously consider not waiting for your next move,but of making use of this in retaliation for what you have done to me.As to that, I have reached no conclusion. This is all I have to say."
Enoch turned on his heel and closely followed by Charley left theoffice. As they entered the taxicab, Abbott said, "Gee, that did memore good than getting my salary doubled! I thought you were going touse this morning's item as a text!"
"You'd better have Cheney prepare a reply to that, for me to sign,"said Enoch and he lapsed into silence. They went directly to theirtrain and to bed and the next morning office routine began promptly atnine as usual.
February slipped into March. One cold, rainy morning Abbott, with abroad smile on his face, came in to take dictation.
"What's happened, Abbott?" asked Enoch. "Some one left you some money?"
"Better than that!" exclaimed Charley. "I dined at the IndianCommissioner's last night and whom do you think I took out? MissAllen!"
A slow red suffused Enoch's forehead and died out. "When did shereturn to Washington?" he asked, quietly.
"A day or so ago. She is studying at the Smithsonian. She says she'llbe here two months."
"She is well, I hope," said Enoch.
"She looks simply glorious!"
Enoch nodded. "Instead of dictating letters, this morning, Abbott,suppose you start the visitors this way. Somehow, the thought ofwading through that pile, right now, sickens me."
Charley's face showed surprise, but he rose at once. "Mr. Cheney'sbeen waiting for an hour out there with an interesting chap from thewestern field. Perhaps you'd better see them before I let thecommittee from California in."
Cheney came first. "Mr. Secretary, one of my men is in from Arizona.He is very much worked up over Brown's last effort and he's got so muchto say that I thought you'd better meet him. Incidentally, he's a veryfine geologist."
"Bring him in," said Enoch.
The Director swung open the door and moving slowly on a cane, Miltoncame into the room.
"Mr. Secretary, Mr. Milton," said Cheney. "He--" then he stopped withhis mouth open for Milton had turned white and the Secretary waslaughing.
"Judge!" gasped Milton.
Enoch left his desk and crossing the room seized both Milton's hands,cane and all.
"Milton, old boy, there's no man in the world I'd rather see than you."
"Why, are you two old friends?" asked Cheney.
"Intimate friends!" exclaimed Enoch. "Cheney, I'll remember the favorall my life, if you'll leave me alone with Milton for a little while."
"Why certainly! Certainly! I didn't know Milton was trying to springa surprise on you. I'll be just outside when I'm needed."
"Sit down, Milton," said Enoch, soberly, when they were alone. "Don'thold my deception against me. I was not spying. It was the blindestfate in the world that brought me to the Canyon and to your expedition."
Milton's freckled face was still pale. "Hold it against you! Ofcourse not! But you've rattled me, Judge,--Mr. Secretary."
"No one but Abbott knows of my trip and he in baldest outline. Keep mysecret for me, old man, as long as you possibly can. I suppose it willleak out eventually."
Milton was staring at Enoch. "Think of all we said and did!" he gasped.
"Especially what we did! Oh, it was glorious! Glorious!" cried Enoch."It did all for me that you thought it might, Milton. Do you remember?"
"Yes, I remember. And I remember telling you my personal ambitions!I'd rather have cut out my tongue!"
"And once you all told what you thought of Enoch Huntingdon!" TheSecretary burst out laughing, and Milton joined him with a great "Ha!ha!"
"So you were the fugitive from justice, that joined my drunken crew,"chuckled Milton, wiping the tears from his eyes. "And I came over totry to put myself straight as to that with the Big Boss!"
"The best part of it all is that excepting Abbott and Jonas and nowyou, not a living soul knew it was the Secretary of the Interior whotook the trip."
"Of course, there was Miss Allen!" added Milton. "Don't forget her!But she's as safe as the Canyon itself at keepin
g a secret."
"How about the reporter who's said to be on my trail?" asked Enoch.
"He's prowling round on the river, running up an expense accounttwenty-three hours and making up lies on the twenty-fourth. Capp toldMr. Cheney that this reporter, whose name is Ames, I believe, was towrite nothing until his return to New York. Mr. Secretary, can'tsomething be done to shut him off?"
"Yes," replied Enoch, sternly. The two men were silent for a moment,then Enoch said with a sudden lighting of his blue eyes. "Where areyou stopping, old man."
"I haven't located the cheapest hotel in Washington yet. When I do,that'll be where I'll stop. You remember we used to speak our minds onthe salaries the Department paid."
"I remember," chuckled Enoch. "Well, Milton, the cheapest stoppingplace in Washington is over at Judge Smith's place. I believe you havethe address. By the way, have you seen Jonas?"
"No, but I want to," replied Milton.
Enoch pressed the button, and Jonas' black head popped in at the door.As his eyes fell on Milton, they began to bulge.
"The Lord have mercy! How come you didn't tell me, boss--" he began.Then he rushed across the room and shook hands. "Mr. Milton, I'drather see you than my own brother. Did you find any pieces of theNa-che?"
"No, Jonas, but I've got some fine pictures in my trunk of you shootingrapids in the old boat."
"No! My Lordy! Where's your trunk, Mr. Milton?"
"Jonas," said Enoch, "you get Mr. Milton's trunk check and--but he sayshe's going to a hotel."
Jonas looked at Milton, indignantly. "Going to a hotel! How come youto try to insult the boss' and my house, Mr. Milton? Huh! Hotel!Huh!"
He took the check and left the room, still snorting. Milton rose. "Imustn't intrude any longer, Mr. Secretary."
"Luckily I'm free, to-night," said Enoch. "We'll have a great talk.Ask Cheney to come in, please."
"Mr. Cheney," asked Enoch, when Milton had gone, "do you think youcould find out whether or not that fellow Ames has returned fromArizona?"
"Yes, we can do that without much trouble. Was Milton able tostraighten matters up with you, Mr. Secretary?"
"He didn't have to. I'm an ardent admirer of Milton's. He's going tostop at my house, while he's in Washington. Why don't you take him outof the field and begin to groom him for your job, Mr. Cheney? Heshould be ready for it in a few years."
Cheney nodded. "He's a good man. I'll think it over. And I willtelephone Abbott about Ames."
It was fortunate for Enoch that Milton was with him that evening, forthe knowledge that Diana was in Washington and that he could not seeher was quite as agonizing as he had suspected it would be. Yet it wasimpossible not to enjoy Milton's continual surprise and pleasure at thechange in the Judge's identity and it was a real delight to make oncemore the voyage to the Ferry not only for its own sake but because withthe landing at the Ferry came much conversation on the part of Jonasand Milton about Diana. But Enoch did not sleep well that night andreached his office in the morning, heavy-eyed and grim.
Abbott, standing beside the Secretary's desk was even more grim. "Mr.Cheney was too slow getting us the information about Ames," he said,pointing to the newspaper that lay on the desk.
Enoch lighted a cigar very deliberately, then began to read. It was adetailed account of the vacation trip of the Secretary of the Interior.It was written with devilish ingenuity, purporting to show that Enochin his hours of relaxation was a thorough-going good fellow. Theaccount said that Enoch had picked up a mining outfit made up of twonotorious gamblers. That the three had then annexed two Indian bucksand a squaw and had slowly made their way into the Grand Canyon,ostensibly to placer mine, actually to play cards and hunt. The storywas witty, and contained some good word pictures of the Canyon country.It was subtle in its wording, but it was from first to last anunforgettable smirching of Enoch's character.
Enoch laid the paper down. "Abbott," he said slowly, "the time hascome to act. I want Mr. Fowler, Mr. Brown, this fellow Ames, orwhatever reporter wrote the first article about me to come to my officetomorrow afternoon at five o'clock. If it is necessary to ask thePresident for authority to bring them here, I shall ask for it."
Abbott's eyes glowed. "Thank God, at last!" he exclaimed. "Shall Iprepare a denial of this stuff."
"No! At least they have left Miss Allen out. We may be thankful andlet it stand at that. Now, start the procession in, Abbott. I'm in nomood to dictate letters."
Enoch threw himself into the day's work with burning intensity. Aboutthree o'clock, he told Abbott to deny all visitors that he might devotehimself to an Alaskan report.
"Mr. Milton just rushed in. Will you let him have a moment?" askedCharley.
"Yes, but--" here Milton came in unceremoniously.
"Mr. Huntingdon," he said, "I've just finished lunching with MissAllen. We are both nearly frantic over this morning's paper. You mustlet us publish the truth."
"No," thundered Enoch. "You know the Brown papers. If they discoveredwhat Miss Allen did for us all at the Ferry, how she led me back to ElTovar, what would they do with it?"
Abbott looked from Enoch to Milton in astonishment. Milton started tospeak, but Enoch interrupted, "You are, of course, thinking that Ishould have thought of that long before, when I asked her to let me goback to El Tovar with her. But I didn't! I had been in the Canyonlong enough to have forgotten what could be made of my adventure by badminds. I was a cursed fool, moving in a fool's paradise and I musttake my punishment. If ever--"
Jonas opened the door from the outer office. "The President, Mr.Secretary," he said.
Enoch started toward the telephone, but Jonas spoke impatiently--"No!No! not that."
"The President of what, Jonas!" asked Abbott.
Jonas lifted his chest and flung the door wide. "The President of theUnited States of America," he announced, and the President came in.
Enoch rose. "Don't let me disturb you, Mr. Secretary. I can wait,"said the chief executive.
"We were quite finished, Mr. President. May I, I wonder, introduce Mr.Milton to you, the geologist whom Brown said headed the drunkenexpedition down the Colorado."
The President looked keenly at Milton as they shook hands. "Mr.Huntingdon took great pains to deny that story, publicly," he said."Can't you persuade him, Mr. Milton, to do as much for himself, to-day."
"That's exactly why I'm here, Mr. President!" exclaimed Milton. "Buthe's absolutely obdurate!"
Jonas came into the room and spoke to Enoch softly. "Mr. Fowler'soffice is on the outside wire, Mr. Secretary. I wouldn't connect inhere while the President was here. Mr. Fowler wants to speak to you,hisself, before he catches a train."
"I'll go into your office to get it, Abbott," said Enoch. "May Idetain you, a moment, Mr. President? Mr. Fowler wants to speak to me."
The President raised his eyebrows with a little smile. "Yes, if youtell me what's happened to Fowler."
Enoch's smile was twisted as he went out. Milton immediately began tospeak.
"Mr. President, can't you make Mr. Huntingdon tell about his vacation?"
The chief executive shook his head. "Perhaps it's not best. Perhapshe did have a lapse into his boyhood habits. Not that it makes anydifference to me."
"No! No! Mr. President. I know--" began Charley.
But Milton interrupted, "Mr. President, he was with me and part of thetime Miss Diana Allen, a wonderful woman, was with us. And Mr.Huntingdon is afraid they'll turn their dirty tongues on her."
The President's face lighted as if he had received good news. "Really!With you!"
"Yes, with me for a week and more. And I want to tell you, sir, thatfor nerve and endurance and skill in a boat and as a pal and friendunder life and death conditions I've never seen any one to surpass him.He scorned cards while he was with us. We had no liquor. We admiredhim beyond words and had no idea who he was."
"No!" cried the President, delightedly. "Why, there must
be a realstory in this! Go on with it, Milton! Enoch," as the Secretary camein, "I'm winning the truth out of your old cruising pal, here!"
"I can't help it, Mr. Huntingdon!" cried Milton as Enoch turned towardhim indignantly. "Miss Diana said this noon that if you didn't tellthe story, she would."
"There you are!" exclaimed the President. "Wouldn't you know she'dtake it that way? And on second thoughts I think I'd rather hear thestory from her than any one else."
"But she can't tell you about the voyage, sir," protested Milton.
"That's true," agreed the President. "I shall have to arrange one ofmy choice little dinners and have you and Miss Diana Allen there to padout the Secretary's account." Then, with a sudden change of voice, hewalked over to Enoch and put his hand on the younger man's shoulder.Abbott nodded to Milton and the two slipped out.
"You are a bit twisted about women, dear old man! Come, you must letMilton put out the right kind of a denial of Brown's story."
"Brown will put the denial out for himself," said Enoch sternly. "I'vereached my limit. Mr. President, I have asked Mr. Fowler, Brown, andthe reporter who's been maligning me to come to my office to-morrowafternoon. I think I shall be able to settle this matter. I wouldperhaps have done it before but I could not settle in my own mind justhow I wanted to go about it. Fowler refused to come until I told himthe purpose of the meeting."
"And you know now how to end this miserable affair?" asked thePresident, wonderingly.
"Yes," replied Enoch. "And now, Mr. President, what can I do for you?"
"Exactly what you are doing, Enoch. Clear up this disgusting matter."
"You came to see me for that, sir?"
The President smiled. "You do not seem to realize that a great manypeople, people who never saw you, are deeply troubled about you. Youdo not belong to yourself but to us, Mr. Secretary."
"Perhaps you are right, sir," said Enoch humbly. "I thank you mostsincerely for coming."
"Will you come to me as soon as you have finished, to-morrow, Enoch?"
"Yes, Mr. President! Abbott, will you show the President out?" Thenwhen Charley had returned, he said, "Abbott, the Secretary of Statewill be here. How about Brown?"
"He will be here," replied Charley. "I used the President's namepretty freely, but I think I finally got him curious enough and worriedenough."
Enoch nodded. "Abbott, for the first time since I've been in thisoffice, I'm going to quit early and go for a ride."
"It's what you ought to do every day," said Abbott.
"Look here, Abbott, if I get this beastly matter settled to-morrow, Iwant you to go away for two months' vacation."
"Well," said Charley, doubtfully, "if you get it settled!"
"Don't let that worry you," said Enoch grimly as he pulled on hisovercoat and left the office. "I'll settle it."
Promptly at three o'clock, the next day, Abbott ushered three men intothe Secretary's office. Enoch rose and bowed to Secretary Fowler, toHancock Brown, and to Ames, the reporter. The last was a clear cutyoung fellow with a nose a little too sharp and eyes set a trifle tooclose together.
"If you will be seated, gentlemen, I'll tell you the object of thiscall upon your time. Mr. Abbott, please remain in the room.
"On the third of November, Mr. Brown, you published in one of yourevening papers an article about me written under your direction byAmes. The facts in that article were in the main true. The deductionsyou drew from them were vilely false. It is not, Mr. Brown, a pleasantknowledge for a man to carry through life that his mother was what mymother was. I have suffered from that knowledge as it is obviouslyquite beyond your power to comprehend. I say obviously, because no menwith decency or the most ordinary imagination would have dared toharrow a man's secret soul as you harrowed mine. Even in my manybattles with Tammany, my unfortunate birth has been respected. Itremained for you to write the unwriteable.
"As for my gambling, that too is true, to a certain extent. I haveplayed cards perhaps half a dozen times in as many years. I was taughtto play by the Luigi whom you interviewed. I have a gambler'sinstinct, but since I was fourteen I have fought as men can fight andlatterly I have been winning the battle.
"Your insinuations as to my adult relationship to the underworld and towomen are lies. And your dragging Miss Allen into the dirty tale was agratuitous insult which it is fortunate for both of you, her father hasnot yet seen. It happened that while I was on the vacation recently inwhich you have taken so impertinent an interest, that I joined the campof two miners. One of them, Curly Field, told me an interesting story.He probably would not have told me had I not been calling myself Smithand had he not discovered that I am a lawyer."
The smile suddenly disappeared from Brown's face.
"That fellow Curly always was a liar," he said.
Enoch shrugged his shoulders. "You should be a good judge of liars,Brown. Curly told me that Mr. Fowler was his brother-in-law's partner."
Fowler spoke, his face drawn. "Spare me that story, Mr. Huntingdon, Ibeg of you."
"Did you beg Brown to spare me?" demanded Enoch, sternly.
"Pshaw!" exclaimed Brown, "that is old stuff. It couldn't be provedthat we had anything to do with it."
"No?" queried Enoch. "What would you say to my taking the fund leftJudge Smith by Curly and employing a first-class lawyer and a detectiveto go on the trail of those mis-appropriated funds?" Brown did notanswer and Enoch went on: "Curly's idea was to get even with Fowler.It was, in fact, a type of mania with him. He told me that for yearshe had been in possession of facts concerning certain doings of Brownand Fowler in Mexico, which if they were properly blazed across thecountry would utterly ruin both of them. He wanted to put me inpossession of those facts."
Suddenly Fowler rose and went to stand at a window, his back to thegroup around the Secretary's desk. Enoch continued, clearly and firmly:
"I could scarcely believe my good fortune. Here was my chance to payBrown in kind."
"Did Curly give you the facts?" asked Brown, who had grown a littlewhite around the mouth.
Enoch did not heed him. "I asked Curly if the story was a reflectionon these two men morally or financially. He said, morally; that it wasbad beyond words. At this point I weakened and told him that I had nodesire to display any man's weakness in the market place. And Curlylaughed at me and asked me what mercy Fowler had shown his brother?But still I could not make up my mind to take those facts from Curly."
Mr. Brown eased back in his chair with a sneering smile. Young Amessat sickly pale, his mouth open.
"But when I left him," the calm, rich voice went on, "I told him thathe could write down the story and send it to my house in Washington.Now the chances are that having drifted so many years without tellingit, he would have drifted on indefinitely. But fate intervened. Curlywent to the Mexican border. Certain gentlemen have seen to it that theMexican border is not safe. Curly was shot and he made it hisdeath-bed duty to dictate this delectable tale to a friend. In duecourse of time, the document reached my house in Washington, and hereit is!" He tapped the upper drawer of his desk.
There was utter silence in the room while Enoch lighted a cigarette.
"Have you told any one the er--tale?" demanded Brown, hoarsely. "I canprove that not a word of it is true!"
"Can you?" Enoch squared round on him. "Are you willing to risk havingthe story told with the idea of disproving it, afterward? Isn't yoursystem of scandal mongering built on the idea that mud once slungalways leaves a stain in the public mind? And Curly was an eyewitness. He is dead, but I do not believe all the other eye witnessesare dead. At any rate--"
Brown suddenly leaned forward in his chair. "Mr. Huntingdon, I'll giveyou my check for $100,000, if you will give me that document and swearto keep your mouth shut."
"Your bribe is not large enough," Enoch answered tersely.
"Five hundred thousand! I'll agree to make a public retraction ofeverything I said about yo
u and to work for you with all the power ofmy newspapers."
"Not enough!" repeated Enoch, watching Brown's white face, keenly.
"What do you want?" demanded the newspaper publisher.
"First," Enoch threw his cigarette away, "I want Secretary Fowler tobreak with you, absolutely and completely."
"Curly can't implicate me, in that Mexican affair!" cried Fowler."Why, my whole attitude was one of disapproval and disgust. I toldBrown over and over, that he was a fool and after the shooting I brokewith him, absolutely, for years. I am--"
Enoch interrupted. "Brown, was Fowler in on the trouble?"
"No!" replied Brown, sullenly.
"I'm very glad to hear it," Enoch exclaimed. "Mr. Fowler, as far as Iam concerned all that I learned from Field regarding you is a closedbook and forgotten if you will break with Brown."
"I'd break with him, gladly, if he'd cease to blackmail me about theField matter," said Fowler. "Good God! How many of us are therewho've not committed sins that we never forgive ourselves?"
"None of us!" said Enoch. "Mr. Fowler, why did you break with me?"
"Didn't you do your best to undermine me with the President? Didn'tyou go to Ambassador Johns-Eaton and tell him--" Here, catching acurious flickering of young Ames' eyelids, Fowler interrupted himselfto demand, "Or was that more of your dirty work, Ames?"
"Answer, Ames!" Enoch's voice was not to be ignored.
"Brown paid me for it," muttered Ames.
Fowler groaned and looked at Enoch, who was lighting a fresh cigarette.
"Will you agree, Brown, to an absolute break with Fowler and no comebacks?" asked Enoch.
"Yes," said Brown eagerly. "What else?"
"You are to go out of the newspaper business."
There was another silence. Then Brown said, "I'll not do it!"
"Very well," returned Enoch, "then the Mexican affair will be publishedas Curly has written it with all the attendant circumstances."
Again there was silence, with all the eyes in the room focused on thepale, gentle face, opposite Enoch. The noise of street traffic beatagainst the windows. Telephones sounded remotely in the outer office.For ten minutes this was all. Then Brown in a husky voice said,
"Very well! Give me the document!"
"Not at all," returned Enoch, coolly. "This document goes into mysafety deposit box. In case of my death, it will be left toresponsible parties. When you die, it will be destroyed. I am not arich man, Mr. Brown, but I shall devote a part of my income to havingyou watched; watched lest indirectly and by the underhand methods youknow so well you again attempt to influence public opinion. Afterto-morrow, you are through."
"To-morrow! Impossible!" gasped Brown.
"Nothing is impossible except decency to a man of your capacity," saidEnoch. "To-morrow you publish a complete denial of your lies about meand this Department and then you are no longer a newspaper publisher.That is all I have to say to you, Mr. Brown." He pressed a button,"Jonas, please show Mr. Brown out."
Jonas' black eyes snapped. "How come you think I'd soil my shadowletting that viper trail it, boss? I never disobeyed you before, Mr.Secretary, but that trash can show hisself out!" and Jonas withdrew tohis own office, while Brown, shrugging his shoulders, opened and closedthe door for himself.
Ames would have followed him, but Enoch said, "One moment, Ames! Whatassurance are you going to give me that you will keep your mouth shutas to what you've heard this afternoon?"
"I give you my word," began Ames, eagerly.
Enoch raised his hand. "Don't be silly, Ames. Do you know that I canmake serious legal trouble for you for your part in libelling me andthe Department?"
"But Brown said his lawyers--"
"Brown's lawyers? Do you think Brown's lawyers will fight for you now?"
"No, Mr. Secretary," muttered the reporter.
"Very well! Keep your mouth shut and you'll have no trouble from this,but let me trace one syllable to you and I shall have no bowels ofcompassion. One word more, Ames. You are clever or Brown would nothave used you as he did. Get a job on a clean paper. There is nofiner profession in the world than that of being a good newspaper man.Newspaper men wield a more potent influence in our American life thanany other single factor. Use your talent nobly, not ignobly, Ames.And above all things never tell a vile tale about any man's mother.Don't do it, Ames!" and here Enoch's voice for the first time broke.
Ames, his hands trembling, picked up his hat. His face had turned anagonized red. Biting his lips, he made his way blindly from the room.
"And now," said Enoch, "if you'll leave Mr. Fowler and me alone for afew minutes, Abbott, I'll appreciate it." As the door closed afterCharley he said, "Sit down, Fowler. I'm sorry to have put you throughsuch an ordeal, but I knew no other way."
"I deserve it, I guess." Fowler sat down wearily. "I was an unlickedwhelp in my youth, Huntingdon, but though I got into rotten company, Inever did anything actually crooked."
"I believe you," Enoch nodded. "Let the guiltless throw the firststone. We both have paid in our heart's blood, I guess, for all thatwe wrought in boyhood."
"A thousand-fold," agreed Fowler. "Huntingdon, let me try to expressmy regret for--"
"Don't!" interrupted Enoch. "If you are half as eager as I am toforget it all you'll never mention it even to yourself. But I do wantto talk candidly to you about our political aspirations. Mr. Fowler, Idon't want to go to the White House! I have a number of reasons that Idon't think would interest you particularly. But I want to go back tothe Senate when I finish here. Fowler, if you were not so jealous andso personal in your ambitions I would be glad to see you get the partynomination."
Fowler's fine, tired face expressed incredulity mingled withbewilderment.
Enoch went on, "You and I are talking frankly as men rarely talk and aswe probably never shall again. So perhaps you will forgive me if Imake some personal comments. It seems to me that the only permanentsatisfaction a man gets out of public life is the feeling that he hasadded in greater or less degree to the sum total of his country'sprogress and stability. I think your weakness is that you placeyourself first and your country second."
"No!" said Fowler, eagerly. "You don't understand me, Huntingdon! Myown aim in life is to make my service to my country compensate for theselfishness and foolishness of my youth. My methods may, as you say,have been open to misinterpretation. But God knows my impulses havebeen disinterested. And you must realize now, Huntingdon, that it hasbeen the business of certain people to see that you and I misunderstandeach other."
"That's true," said Enoch, thoughtfully. "Well, I doubt if that ispossible again."
"It is absolutely impossible!" exclaimed Fowler. "I am yours tocommand!"
"No, you're not!" laughed Enoch. "Brown is finished and you're yourown man. I look for great things from you, Fowler. I wanted to tellyou that and to tell you that in me you have no rival."
"No," Fowler spoke slowly, "no, because no one can win, no one deservesto win the place in the hearts of America that you have. Huntingdon,your kindness and courtesy is the most exquisite punishment you couldvisit upon me."
Enoch looked quickly from the Secretary of State to the opposite wall.But he did not see the wall. He saw a crude camp in the bottom of theCanyon. He heard the epic rush of waters and the sigh of eternal windsand he saw again the picture of Harden fighting his way up the menacingwalls to rescue Forrester. It seemed to Fowler that the silence hadlasted five minutes before Enoch turned to him with his flashing smile.
"We are friends, Fowler, are we not?"
The older man rose and held out his hand. "Yes, Huntingdon, as long aswe live," and he slowly left the room.
Enoch sank back on his chair, wearily, and opening the top drawer ofhis desk, took out the familiar envelope. _The seal was stillunbroken_! He placed it in a heavy document envelope, sealed this andwrote a memorandum on it, and dropped it on the desk. Then for a longtime he sat s
taring into the dusk. At last, as if the full realizationof the loneliness of his life had swept over him he dropped his head onhis desk with a groan.
"O Diana! Diana!"
He did not hear the door open softly. Abbott with Ames just behindhim, stood on the threshold. The two young men looked at each other,abashed, and Abbott would have withdrawn, but Ames went doggedly intothe room.
"Mr. Secretary!" he said, hesitatingly.
Enoch sat erect. Abbott flashed on the light. "Mr. Ames insists onseeing you again, Mr. Huntingdon," Charley spoke hesitatingly.
"Come in, Ames," said Enoch, coldly. "Abbott, see that this envelopeis put in a safe place."
Abbott left them alone. Ames advanced to the desk, where he stood, hisface eager.
"Mr. Secretary, you've been so decent. You,--you--well, you're such aman! I--I want to tell you something but I don't know how you'll takeit. The truth is, I believe that I could prove that Luigi's mistresswas not your mother!"
Enoch clutched his desk and his face turned to stone. "Don't you thinkyou went far enough with that matter before?" he asked sternly.
Ames stumbled on, doggedly. "This last trip out West I just thoughtI'd go down to Brown's early stamping grounds and see what kind of areputation he had there. I was getting a little fed up on him and Ithought it couldn't hurt me to have a little something on him against arainy day, as it were. You see I never did know what this Curly Fieldstuff was, but it didn't take me long to run that story down, even ifit was a generation old. Of course, I don't know what Curly told you,but certainly the official reports of the Field scandal never provedanything on either Brown or Fowler."
Enoch moved impatiently. But young Ames, standing rigidly before hisdesk exclaimed, "Just a moment longer, please, Mr. Secretary! Some ofthese facts you know unless Field was so obsessed with the thought ofhis brother's alleged wrongs that he did not mention them, but I'llstate them anyhow. The mining and smelting property that caused thewhole row was originally owned by an old timer named Post who struck itrich late in life, married and died soon after, leaving everything tohis son, a little chap named Arthur. This is the child Field wassupposed to have robbed. Little Arthur died a couple of years afterField's suicide but by that time there was nothing left of the propertyand no one paid any attention to the child's death. But in reading oldPost's will, something piqued my curiosity. In the event of Arthur'sdeath, the property was to go to old Post's baby nephew, HuntingdonPost."
Enoch knit his brows quickly but he did not speak and Ames went on,"Being, of course, in a suspicious state of mind, it struck me as anunusual coincidence that this child should have died, too. So I madesome inquiries. It was difficult to trace the facts because there wereno relatives. Old Post seemed to have been just a solitary prowler,coming from nowhere, like so many of the old timers. But finally, Ifound an old fellow in the back country who had known old Post. Hetold me that little Hunt Post, as he called him, had been killed withhis father and mother in a railway accident. I asked where they gotthe child's name and he said the mother's name was Huntingdon. He knewher when she was a girl living alone with her father in the Kanabcountry, north of the Grand Canyon. He said her father died when shewas ten or eleven and a family named Smith sort of brought her up andshe was known as Mary Smith. But when she married, she named the boyafter her father who was a raw boned, red headed man named EnochHuntingdon."
Enoch gave Ames a long steady look and the younger man relaxed a little.
"Now," Ames went on, "knowing Brown as I do, I wonder if little HuntPost, who, like his mother was red headed and blue eyed, was burned upin a railroad accident. Did Field speak of the child?"
Enoch pressed the desk button and Abbott came. "Give me the Fieldenvelope, please, Abbott."
When the envelope was in his hands, Enoch tore the flap up and began toread the close written pages. When he had finished, he put themanuscript back with steady hands. "Most of the letter," he saidquietly, "is taken up by the recital of Brown's shady moral career inMexico. At the end he speaks of a Mexican woman with red hair andviolet eyes who lived with Brown for some months. She left to act asnurse to little Hunt Post. Some time after the railroad accident,Curly was the unsuspected witness to a secret meeting between thisAnita and Brown. The woman demanded money and Brown demanded proofthat little Hunt was dead. The conference ended only when Anitaproduced a box containing the child's body. Curly did not know howmuch Brown paid her or where she went."
Ames gave an ugly laugh. "Hoist with his own petard! Think of himstarting me after the Luigi scandal!"
"Tell Abbott what you've just told me," said Enoch.
He did not stir while Ames repeated the story. Charley's eyes blazed.When Ames finished, Charley started to speak but the young reporterinterrupted.
"Mr. Secretary, I want you to let me tie up the loose ends for you.We've got to put the screws on Luigi and I'll take another trip West."
"Wait a bit!" exclaimed Charley. "Mr. Secretary, I'm going to claimthat long deferred vacation. Let me spend it with Ames clearing thismatter up for you."
Enoch drew a quick breath. "When could you begin, you two?"
"Now!" the two young men said together.
Enoch smiled. "Wait until to-morrow. I've more important workto-night, and I want to go over every detail with you before you startout. In the meantime, Abbott, guard this envelope as you would yourlife."
"What won't we do to Brown!" exclaimed Charley.
"I've punished Brown," said Enoch. "He'll never hurt me again. Assoon as this thing is cleared, we'll forget him."
Again Ames laughed. "Believe me, he's going to be good the rest of hislife. Think of your reading that stuff about little Hunt, Mr.Secretary, and never realizing its import!"
"God knows, I didn't want to read the story of another man's ignominy!"said Enoch, earnestly, "and I never would have, had not--" he paused,then said as if to himself, "God moves in a mysterious way, His wondersto perform!"
The two younger men stood in silence. Then Enoch said, "Thank you,Ames, I'll see you at nine o'clock to-morrow morning. Abbott, get theWhite House for me and then go home to dinner."
A few minutes later Enoch was speaking to the President. "I have toreport victory, Mr. President, all along the line. . . . Yes, sir,it's a long story and I want to tell it to you to-morrow, not to-night.Mr. President, I'm going to find Miss Allen and dine with her,to-night, if I have to take her from a state function. . . . Yes, youmay chuckle if you wish. I thought you'd understand. . . . Thank you!Good night, Mr. President."
Enoch hung up the receiver and sat looking at the floor, his face aswhite as marble. For five minutes he did not stir, then he heaved agreat sigh and the tense muscles of his face relaxed. He tossed backthe hair from his forehead, sprang to his feet and began to pace thefloor. After a short time of this, he rang for Jonas.
"Jonas, do you know where Miss Diana is stopping?"
Jonas did not seem to hear the question. He stood staring at Enochwith eyes that seemed to start from their sockets.
"My Lordy, boss, what's happened? You look like I never hoped to seeyou look!" Then he paused for he could not express what he saw in theSecretary's shining eyes.
"Jonas, old man, I've had the greatest news of my life, but I can'ttell even you, first."
"Miss Diana!" ejaculated Jonas. "Boss, she's at the Larson; one ofthese boarding houses that calls themselves a name. Didn't I tell youInjun charms was strong? Tell me! Huh!"
"All right, Jonas! I won't be home to dinner. Better sit up for methough, for I'll want to talk to you."
"Did I ever not sit up for you?" demanded Jonas as he gave Enoch hiscoat.
Enoch paced the floor of the Larson while a slatternly maid went insearch of Diana. When, a little pale and breathless, Diana appeared inthe doorway, Enoch did not stir for a moment from under the chandelier.Nor did he speak. Diana gazed at him as if she never had seen himbefore. His eyes were blazing. H
is lips quivered. He was very pale.
Suddenly, tossing his hat and cane to a chair, he crossed the room. Hetried to smile.
"Diana, have you seen your friend, the psychologist yet?"
"No, Enoch, but I have an appointment with him for next week."
Enoch seized her hands and held them both against his heart. "You neednever see him, Diana, I have been made whole. I--" his voice brokehoarsely--"I have something to tell you. Diana, you are going to dinewith me."
"Yes, Enoch!"
"Diana! Oh, how lovely you are! Diana, it's a wonderful night, with afull moon. I want you to walk with me to the Eastern Club. I havesomething to tell you. And while I'm telling you, no four walls musthem us in."
Diana, her great eyes shining in response to Enoch's, turned without aword and went back upstairs. She returned at once, clad for the walk.Enoch opened the street door and paused to look down into her face witha trembling smile. Then they descended the steps into the moonlighttogether.
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