Of course, all these possibilities which hinged on Matthew’s successful election were wormwood to Sammy, and he concentrated fiercely on forestalling such success. He was sitting alone in his office this night and thinking things out when there came a phone call. It was Corruthers.
Corruthers came in a half hour later. Corruthers was a cadaverous blond, redheaded and freckled, a drunkard, a dope fiend, and a spellbinder, with brains and no self-control, thoroughly dishonest and extremely likable. He claimed to be a nephew of Frederick Douglass. He looked distinctly glum.
Corruthers was one of those who are dangerous only when they are successful. Once he began to lose he gave up. Sammy was quite different. He was most dangerous losing. It was then that he fought furiously and to the last ditch. Evidently Corruthers had been disappointed and was ready to surrender.
“Didn’t do a thing,” he said, “not a thing. Sure, I found the widow of that porter who was lynched. She’s working in New York. But, my God! she thinks Towns is Jesus Christ and won’t hear a word against him. Swears that the story that he attacked anybody is a lie and threatens to go to court if anybody says that Towns was responsible for her husband’s death. I can’t figure her out at all. I know the story that I got was the truth, but I can’t prove it.
“Then I tried to get a line on that dead man in the wreck. He may have been a fellow named Perigua. Some say he was, but others declare that Perigua went back to Jamaica and has been seen there since. I don’t know how it was. Then I was all wrong about that brown woman. She was an Indian princess, sure enough, a high muck-a-muck and fabulously rich, Probably got interested in Towns because he was a good porter. At any rate, she’s gone back to India, so everybody says, although there again some declare that she has returned.”
“Well, what did you do about that?” asked Sammy impatiently.
“Well, I found out the address of her bankers and went down to inquire about her. Seems that her little country, Bwodpur, has some sort of commercial agency which I was referred to. It didn’t look like much. Mean little office, with two or three Indians sitting around. All I could do was to leave my address and say that I had some news for the lady about Matthew Towns; then I came home.”
“Hell!” said Sammy, lighting another cigar.
“But today,” continued Corruthers, “an East Indian called at my place and asked about Towns. Said he’d been sent.”
“What did you do with him?” asked Sammy.
“He’s outside,” said Corruthers.
“Well, for God’s sake! and gassing about nothing all this time! Bring him in.”
“Wait a minute,” said Corruthers. “What are we going to say to him? I couldn’t think of anything. Of course we might pinch him for a little cash.”
“Nix,” said Sammy, “leave him to me.”
The Indian entered. He looked thin and was poorly dressed. Sammy was disappointed, but he handed him one of his cheap cigars, which the Indian refused.
“I understand,” said the Indian in very good English, “that you have some message from or about Matthew Towns.”
“Ah,” said Sammy. “Not from him, but about him. Er’r, I believe the lady with whom you are connected is friendly with Mr. Towns.”
“Her Royal Highness in the past has deigned to express something like that.”
“And—still interested?”
“I do not know.”
“I mean, she wouldn’t let him suffer or get into trouble, and she wouldn’t want to get in trouble herself on account of him?”
“Perhaps not, but what is the case?”
Sammy paused thoughtfully and then started.
“You see, it is this way. This fellow Towns got in jail for not peaching on a pal. I got him out. He made a good record in the legislature and his friends persuaded him to run for Congress. I’d be glad to see him go, but his enemies and the enemies of his race are threatening to bring up this old jail case, and they say that your Princess is involved. It would be a nasty mess to have her name dragged in publicly now. The only way out, as I see it, is for somebody to persuade Towns to withdraw. Can you or your lady manage this?”
“Very well,” said the Indian, arising.
“But can you do anything?”
“I do not know, I will report.”
And then Sammy said: “What! ’way to India?”
“Her Royal Highness is represented in this country. Good day.”
Sammy glowered after him.
“Royal Highness! Hell!” said Corruthers. “And see all the time wasted on that guy. We ought to have asked him straight for money.”
“Looks like a mare’s nest,” said Sammy, “but my rule is to try everything. Well, enough of that. Now my plan is to see what we can do to split the Progressives and this Farmer-Labor bunch, which is promising to support Towns. I know Sara’s game; she’s playing both ends against the middle. But I’m going to break it up.”
XVIII
Sara had, of all concerned, the most difficult road and the most brilliant prospects. She saw wealth, power, social triumph ahead if she could elect Matthew to Congress. But she knew just how difficult it would be to beat the Republican machine with its money and organization. Her first task was to hold the Negro vote back of Matthew. That was easy so long as he was a
