Part 51 (2/2)
”Now, d.i.c.k, the truth, and nothing but the truth. Don't be afraid of me; I am master of myself.”
”I'm not afraid of you. There is half a truth in that letter,” began Warrington, facing about. ”Your wife did stay a night in my apartments.”
John made no sign.
”It was the first week of a new play. I had to be at the theater every night. There were many changes being made. Near midnight we started out for a bite to eat. She had been suffering with attacks of neuralgia of the heart. As we entered the carriage, one of these attacks came on. We drove to her apartments. We could not get in. Her maid was out, the janitor could not be found, and unfortunately she had left her keys at the theater. In a moment like that I accepted the first thing that came into my head: my own apartments. She was not there a quarter of an hour before a trained nurse and her own physician were at her side. I slept in a chair. At six the following morning she left for her own apartments. And that, John, is the truth, G.o.d's truth. I see now that I should have taken her to a hotel. You know that there was a time when I was somewhat dissipated. It was easy to take that incident and enlarge upon it. Now, let me tell you where this base slander originated. Compare the letter you have with the one I gave you.”
John complied. He nodded. These two letters had come from the same typewriter.
”Next?”
”Here is another doc.u.ment.” It was the carbon sheet.
John spread the sheet against the window-pane. The light behind brought out the letters distinctly. He scarcely reached the final line when he spun round, his face mobile with eagerness.
”Where did this come from?”
”Indirectly, out of McQuade's waste-basket.”
”Morrissy and McQuade; both of them! Oh, you have done me a service, d.i.c.k.”
”But it can not be used, John. That and the letters were written on McQuade's typewriter. So much for my political dreams! With that carbon sheet I could pile up a big majority; without it I shall be defeated. But don't let that bother you.”
”McQuade!” John slowly extended his arms and closed his fingers so tightly that his whole body trembled. An arm inside those fingers would have snapped like a pipe-stem. ”McQuade! d.a.m.n him!”
”Take care!” warned the other. ”Don't injure those letters. When my name was suggested by Senator Henderson as a possible candidate, McQuade at once set about to see how he could injure my chances. He was afraid of me. An honest man, young, new in politics, and therefore unattached, was a menace to the success of his party, that is to say, his hold on the city government. Among his henchmen was a man named Bolles.”
”Ah!” grimly.
”He sent this man to New York to look up my past. In order to earn his money he brought back this lie, which is half a truth. Whether McQuade believes it or not is of no matter; it serves his purpose. Now, John!”
John made no reply. With his hands (one still clutching the letters) behind his back he walked the length of the room and returned.
”Will you take my word, which you have always found loyal, or the word of a man who has written himself down as a rascal, a briber, and a blackleg?”
John put out his empty hand and laid it on Warrington's shoulder.
”You're a good man, d.i.c.k. Dissipation is sometimes a crucible that separates the gold from the baser metals. It has done that to you. You are a good man, an honorable man. In coming to me like this you have shown yourself to be courageous as well. There was a moment when the sight of you filled my heart with murder. It was the night after I received that letter. I've been watching you, watching, watching.
Well, I would stake my chance of eternity on your honesty. I take your word; I should have taken it, had you nothing to prove your case. That night I ran into Bolles. ... Well, he uttered a vile insult, and I all but throttled him. Here's my hand, d.i.c.k.”
The hand-grip that followed drew a gasp from Warrington.
”Not every man would be so good about it, John. What shall we do about McQuade?”
”I was about to say that I shall see McQuade within an hour,” in a tone that did not promise well for McQuade.
”Wait a day or two, John. If you meet him now, I believe you will do him bodily harm, and he has caused enough trouble, G.o.d knows.”
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