Part 63 (1/2)

But now at Weedon's office door he paused a moment, hearing a voice, the little man's own, slightly declamatory, even in private, and went in.

And he wished he had not gone, for Miss Amabel sat at the table, signing papers, and he instantly guessed the signatures were not in the pursuance of her business but to the advantage of Weedon Moore. Whatever she might be doing, she was not confused at seeing him. Her designs could be shouted on the housetops. But Moore gave him a foolishly cordial greeting mingled with a confused blotting of signatures and a hasty shuffling of the papers.

”Sit down, sit down,” he said. ”You haven't looked me up before, not since--”

”No,” said Jeff. ”Not since I came back. I don't think I ever did. I've come now in reference to a rather scandalous business.”

Miss Amabel moved her chair back. She was about to rise.

”No, please,” said Jeff. ”Don't go. I'd rather like you to know that I'm making certain threats to Moore here, in case I have to carry them out.

I'd rather you'd know I have some grounds. I never want you to think the worst of me.”

”I always think the best of you,” said Miss Amabel, with dignity yet helplessly. She sat there in an att.i.tude of waiting, her grave glance going from one to the other, as she tried to understand.

”Madame Beattie,” said Jeff curtly to Moore, ”is likely to give you some personal details of her life. If you print them you'll settle with me afterward.”

”O Jeffrey!” said Miss Amabel. ”Why put it so unpleasantly? Mr. Moore would never print anything which could annoy you or any one. We mustn't a.s.sume he would.”

Moore, standing, one fat and not overclean hand on the table, looked a pa.s.sionate grat.i.tude to her. He seemed about to gush into protest. Of course he wouldn't. Of course he would publish only what was of the highest character and also what everybody wanted him to.

”That's all,” said Jeff. He, too, was standing and he now turned to go.

”I wish--” said Miss Amabel impulsively. She got on her feet and stood there a minute, a stately figure in spite of her blurred lines. ”I wish we could have your cooperation, Jeff. Mr. Moore is going to run for mayor.”

”So I hear,” said Jeff, and his mind added, ”And you are financing his campaign, you old dear, and only a minute ago you were signing over securities.”

”It means so much,” said Miss Amabel, ”to have a man who is a friend of labour. We ought to combine on that. It's enough to heal our differences.”

”Pardon me,” said Jeff. ”I have to go. But mayn't I take you home?”

”No,” said Amabel; ”I've another bit of business to settle. But think it over, Jeff. We can't afford to let personal issues influence us when the interest of the town is at stake.”

”Surely not,” said Jeff. ”Addington forever!”

As he went down the stairs he smiled a little, remembering Weedie had not spoken a word after his first greeting. But Jeff didn't waste much thought on Weedie. He believed, at the crisis, Weedie could be managed.

Miss Amabel had startled his mind broad awake to what she called the great issues and what he felt were vital ones. He went on over the bridge, and up the stairs of the old Choate Building to Alston's office, and, from some sudden hesitancy, tapped on the door.

”Come in,” called Alston, and he went.

Alston sat at the table, not reading a novel as Lydia and too many of his clients had found him, but idle, with not even a book at hand. There were packets of papers, in a methodical sequence, but everything on the table bore the aspect of an order not akin to work. Choate looked pale and hara.s.sed. ”You?” said his upward glance. ”You, of all the people I've been thinking of? What are you here for?”

There was though, in the look, a faint relief. Perhaps he thought something connected with the hara.s.sing appeal of Esther, the brutalising stir of her in the air, could be cleared up. Jeff was to surprise him.

”Choate,” said he, ”have you been asked to run for mayor?”

Choate frowned. He wasn't thinking of public office.

”I've been--approached,” he said, as if the word made it the more remote.

”What did you say?”