Part 18 (2/2)
”It simply shows what high regard I have for your discretion. It is a secret some men would pay a comfortable fortune to learn.”
”Will you please come and dine with us this evening?” asked Patty.
”I shall be very happy.”
”And now, the secret,” said Mrs. Jack.
”Between five and six I expect a call on the phone from Senator Henderson.”
”Senator Henderson!” exclaimed the women in unison.
”I shall say but a single word. It will be yes.”
”But the secret! Mercy alive, you are keeping us waiting!”
Warrington glanced around with mock caution. He went mysteriously to the portieres and peered into the hall; he repeated this performance at the dining-room door, then turned, a finger upon his lips.
”Senator Henderson is looking for a candidate for mayor this fall.
Mind, not a word to a soul, not even to John,” this warning addressed princ.i.p.ally to Mrs. Jack.
”The Honorable Richard Warrington,” said Patty, musing. She rolled the words on her tongue as if testing the sound of them.
”That's it,” laughed Warrington. ”The Honorable Richard Warrington!--sounds like Lord Mayor of London!”
Every Eden has its serpent, sooner or later. Thus, having futilely tried the usual gates by which he enters Eden to destroy it, this particular serpent found a breach in the gate of politics.
Chapter VIII
McQuade and Martin entered a cafe popular for its noon lunches. It was hot weather in July, and both were mopping their bald foreheads, their faces and necks. The white bulldog trotted along behind, his tongue lolling out of his mouth and his eyes heavy. The two men sat down in a corner under an electric fan; the dog crawled under the table, grateful for the cold stone tiling.
”What do you know about this fellow Warrington?” asked McQuade, tossing his hat on one of the unoccupied chairs.
”The fellow who writes plays?”
”Yes. What do you know about him?”
”Why, he used to peddle vegetables and now he owns a swell place on Williams Street.”
”Gamble?”
”Not that I know of. I never go into Pete's myself. It wouldn't be good business. But they tell me Warrington used to drop in once in a while, when he was a reporter, and choke his salary to death over the roulette table.”
”Doesn't gamble now?”
”Not in any of the joints around town.”
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