Part 15 (2/2)

”Which brings us back to Senator Duvall. Is it worth while trying to do anything with him?”

”Oh, I don't know. I'm opposed to the method--the bargain and sale plan--and I know you are. Turn him over to me if he comes in again.”

When Kent had dictated a letter in answer to Hunnicott's, he dismissed the Varnum matter from his mind, having other and more important things to think of. So, on the Friday, when the case was reached on Judge MacFarlane's docket--but really, it is worth our while to be present in the Gaston court-room to see and hear what befalls.

When the Varnum case was called, Hunnicott promptly moved for a third continuance, in accordance with his instructions. The judge heard his argument, the old and well-worn one of the absence of important witnesses, with perfect patience; and after listening to Hawk's protest, which was hardly more than mechanical, he granted the continuance.

Then came the after-piece. Court adjourned, and immediately Hawk asked leave to present, ”at chambers,” an amended pet.i.tion. Hunnicott was waylaid by a court officer as he was leaving the room; and a moment later, totally unprepared, he was in the judge's office, listening in some dazed fas.h.i.+on while Hawk went glibly through the formalities of presenting his pet.i.tion.

Not until the papers were served upon him as the company's attorney, and the judge was naming three o'clock of the following afternoon as the time which he would appoint for the preliminary hearing, did the local attorney come alive.

”But, your Honor!--a delay of only twenty-four hours in which to prepare a rejoinder to this pet.i.tion--to allegations of such astounding gravity?” he began, shocked into action by the very ungraspable magnitude of the thing.

”What more could you ask, Mr. Hunnicott?” said the judge, mildly. ”You have already had a full measure of delay on the original pet.i.tion. Yet I am willing to extend the time if you can come to an agreement with Mr.

Hawk, here.”

Hunnicott knew the hopelessness of that and did not make the attempt.

Instead, he essayed a new line of objection.

”The time would be long enough if Gaston were the headquarters of the company, your Honor. But in such a grave and important charge as this amended pet.i.tion brings, our general counsel should appear in person, and----”

”You are the company's attorney, Mr. Hunnicott,” said the judge, dryly; ”and you have hitherto been deemed competent to conduct the case in behalf of the defendant. I am unwilling to work a hards.h.i.+p to any one, but I can not entertain your protest. The preliminary hearing will be at three o'clock to-morrow.”

Hunnicott knew when he was definitely at the string's end; and when he was out of the judge's room and the Court House, he made a dash for his office, dry-lipped and panting. Ten minutes sufficed for the writing of a telegram to Kent, and he was half-way down to the station with it when it occurred to him that it would never do to trust the incendiary thing to the wires in plain English. There was a little-used cipher code in his desk provided for just such emergencies, and back he went to labor sweating over the task of securing secrecy at the expense of the precious minutes of time. Wherefore, it was about four o'clock when he handed the telegram to the station operator, and adjured him by all that was good and great not to delay its sending.

It was just here he made his first and only slip, since he did not stay to see the thing done. It chanced that the regular day operator was off on leave of absence, and his subst.i.tute, a young man from the train-despatcher's office, was a person who considered the company wires an exclusive appanage of the train service department. At the moment of Hunnicott's a.s.sault he was taking an order for Number 17; and observing that the lawyer's cipher ”rush” covered four closely written pages, he hung it upon the sending hook with a malediction on the legal department for burdening the wires with its mail correspondence, and so forgot it.

It was nine o'clock when the night operator came on duty; and being a careful man, he not only looked first to his sending hook, but was thoughtful enough to run over the acc.u.mulation of messages waiting to be transmitted, to the end that he might give precedence to the most important. And when he came to Hunnicott's cipher with the thrice-underlined ”RUSH” written across its face, and had marked the hour of its handing in, he had the good sense to hang up the entire wire business of the railroad until the thing was safely out of his office.

It was half-past nine when the all-important cipher got itself written out in the headquarters office at the capital; and for two anxious hours the receiving operator tried by all means in his power to find the general counsel--tried and failed. For, to make the chain of mishaps complete in all its links, Kent and Loring were spending the evening at Miss Portia Van Brock's, having been bidden to meet a man they were both willing to cultivate--Oliver Marston, the lieutenant-governor. And for this cause it wanted but five minutes of midnight when Kent burst into Loring's bedroom on the third floor of the Clarendon, catastrophic news in hand.

”For heaven's sake, read that!” he gasped; and Loring sat on the edge of the bed to do it.

”So! they've sprung their mine at last: this is what Senator Duvall was trying to sell us,” he said quietly, when he had mastered the purport of Hunnicott's war news.

Kent had caught his second wind in the moment of respite, and was settling into the collar in a way to strain the working harness to the breaking point.

”It's a put-up job from away back,” he gritted. ”If I'd had the sense of a pack-mule I should have been on the lookout for just such a trap as this.

Look at the date of that message!”

The general manager did look, and shook his head. ”'Received, 3:45, P.M.; Forwarded, 9:17, P.M.' That will cost somebody his job. What do we do?”

”We get busy at the drop of the hat. Luckily, we have the news, though I'll bet high it wasn't Hawk's fault that this message came through with no more than eight hours' delay. Get into your clothes, man! The minutes are precious, now!”

Loring began to dress while Kent walked the floor in a hot fit of impatience.

”The mastodonic cheek of the thing!” he kept repeating, until Loring pulled him down with another quiet remark.

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