The Colonel looked at the two men; then, sensing something, he turned his back on them.
Read held out his hand to Gregg, who took it and avoided Read’s eyes.
“Gregg, sometimes you make me see red, but no man ever had a better friend.”
Gregg cleared his throat loudly, dropping Read’s hand almost at once.
“Lead on, Pythias,” he said. “I’m anxious to see you stir up the animals tonight.”
They followed Colonel Putnam through the outer office. Captain Boyce and two militiamen were waiting. Beyond, Read could see the crowd massed from wall to wall of the rotunda. The old battle flags in their glass cases were entirely hidden.
“All right, Governor,” said Colonel Putnam.
A group of militiamen was holding back the crowd and making a lane for the Governor and his party. The Colonel and Captain Boyce went in front of Read and Gregg; the two militiamen closed in behind. There was a terrific uproar which was magnified by the enormous domed ceiling of the rotunda. Read was deafened by the clamor and nervously excited by this tremendous ovation.
From time to time Read glanced absent-mindedly at the wall of massed faces. The very evident emotion of the huge crowd stirred him deeply. He kept muttering to himself: “Never saw anything like it! Never saw anything like it!”
Near the north entrance he noticed a little man in a long black overcoat. There was something about him that made Read take a second look. The little man was a foreigner; he had lank black hair, which was all mussed, and his eyes were a little wild. A light slouch hat seemed to be hanging on his right hand. “There’s something wrong with that fellow,” Read muttered, hardly conscious, owing to the tumult and his own emotions, that he was making a judgment at all.
“We love you, Governor Cole!” a woman shouted in a loud, hysterical voice and Read turned his head slightly. When he turned back, the little man was close to him. Read saw a determined, slightly mad look in his eyes. He saw the light hat on the man’s right hand slowly rising. He was going to cry out; to strike the little man; but somebody jumped in front of him; there was a loud echoing report; acrid smoke drifted upward; then a man fell to the floor.
It was Gregg. Read tried to bend over him, but somebody brushed him aside and in a moment he was surrounded by soldiers. The little man was down now, too. They were kicking him. Read struggled, but the soldiers held him fast.
There was a panic. People were knocked down and trampled. Militiamen used their pistols as clubs, clearing a space for Gregg. Captain Boyce shoved two soldiers aside and, bending down, calmly shot the little man, twice.
While the doctor examined Gregg, Read paced slowly up and down. There wasn’t a sound in the office. The rotunda and the State House yard had been cleared by the National Guardsmen. The body of the little assassin had been carted away. Charley, Miss Wilson and Harold stood with their backs to the office wall, staring horror-stricken at Gregg, who was lying on the big leather sofa, groaning softly from time to time. Before the arrival of the doctor, Gregg had tossed and cried out loudly in pain; but the doctor had given him a shot.
In a few minutes Colonel Putnam came in and stepped up to Read. The Colonel’s face was white and drawn.
“Everything’s quiet now, Governor. No one seriously hurt. The crowd was fine. Governor, I can’t tell you how sorry I am. I feel I should resign… to have such a thing happen! I had everybody searched in the rotunda. How he slipped in I don’t know.”
“It wasn’t your fault, Colonel,” said Read. “It just couldn’t be helped.”
Tears started from the Colonel’s eyes and he turned away to hide them.
“What time is it?” asked Read, turning to Captain Boyce, who was now shaking with excitement.
“Nearly half past, Governor. Shall I call the Hall?”
“Yes. Tell Sullavan I’ll be a little late.”
Boyce and the Colonel stared in consternation.
“Late? Are you going to speak?”
“Certainly. Tell Sullavan to put Bob Shafer on in my place. Also to explain to the crowd what has happened.”
“But, Governor,” said the Colonel, “this may be a conspiracy. This man may just be one of many. If you’ll listen to me, Governor, you won’t take this awful risk. You’re very important to the State right now. You shouldn’t risk your life.”
Read vigorously shook his head.
“As soon as I talk to the doctor, we’ll leave. I think the man was a crazy fanatic. There’s no conspiracy. He played a lone hand. Colonel, I’ll want you and Captain Boyce with me. Miss Wilson, I almost forgot. Wire Miss Bradley at the Northridge Hotel, Sunnyvale, that I’m all right. Reassure her. This has all gone out on the radio, hasn’t it?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Wire her at once. Also wire my son at the Benton Military Academy. I don’t know where my daughter is.”
“I do,” said Miss Wilson. “Mr. Martin was kind enough to tell me where they’d be in case anything came up. They’re in Covington, Kentucky.”
“All right. Wire them that I’m safe. Colonel, I hope you sent out those wires. I don’t want any reprisals! This was the act of an unbalanced man. I don’t want other people to suffer for it.”
“The wires were sent. We’ve already had a reply from Captain Creager. Says he will do his best, but things look bad. Governor, if you’ll excuse me, this is the time for the declaration of martial law. Captain Creager thinks so, too. This man had newspaper clippings of all of Fielding’s speeches in his pocket.”
“You didn’t let that out, did you?”
“Certainly not.”
Read thought for a moment, then said:
“There’ll be no martial law. We’ve caused enough trouble, Fielding and I.”
The Colonel stammered, then looked closely at Read.
“Yes,” said Read, glancing at Gregg, “we’ve caused enough trouble.”
Read went to the window and stood looking out into the yard. The rain had stopped some time ago but the streets still shone like black lacquer under the lights. East Broad Street was crowded. Read saw the mounted policemen riding slowly up and down, their wet rain capes glistening.
The doctor tapped him on the arm.
“Well?”
“He’s very bad, Governor. We've got to operate. I hate to move him, but it’s got to be done.”
“Tell me the truth. Has he got a chance?”
“I can’t make any predictions. It all depends.”
Read turned away and walked over to the couch. Gregg was smoking a cigarette. His face was yellowish, his eyes sunken. Read was appalled, but forced a smile.
“Well, old boy; the doctor says you’ll be all right after the operation.”
“He may be right. I don’t feel so bad. Like old times, eh, in France? Except you stopped the lead there. I told you there were hungry men in this State. Of course, I’d have to step in and take it. Just an innocent bystander.”
“Yes,” said Read, “you just accidentally stepped in.”
The doctor came up quickly.
“That’s enough, Mr. Upham. No more talking. We’ll take you to the hospital now. Whom shall we notify?”
Gregg laughed slightly.
“I’ve got women scattered all over the State. But there’s no one to notify.”
“I’ll have to have a little help, Governor, getting him to the ambulance,” said the doctor.
“Take charge, Colonel.”
“Yes, Governor. Get Enright, Captain Boyce.” Gregg was moved to the stretcher. He lay looking up at Read. The two men stared at each other for a long time, then Gregg looked away and said:
“Doc, can you get me a nice redheaded nurse?”
“I’ll do my best. All right. Let’s go.”
“Goodbye, Read.”
“Goodbye, Gregg. I’ll come to the hospital as soon as I get through with my speech.”
When Gregg had been taken out, Read sat down heavily in the chair by his desk; then he said, mostly to himself:
“And twenty minutes ago we almost had a row!”
“You never know; you never know,” said Charley, hastily blowing his nose.
SIX: ELECTION NIGHT
I
Read was distinctly uncomfortable as he stood in the hospital corridor outside Gregg’s room and talked with the doctor. The place was so inhumanly, so grimly impersonal, so abnormally clean; and there was a sickly-sweet smell of disinfectant which made Read’s nostrils quiver. He hated hospitals because they aroused old memories of pain and despair.
“… as far as that goes,” the doctor was saying, ‘‘the operation was successful enough. But Mr. Upham lost quite a lot of blood previous to and during the operation and, to be quite frank, Mr. Upham isn’t in very good condition generally. I can see that he takes no care of himself. Consequently, Governor, I don’t like to hold out false hopes. The thing that worries me is his heart. It’s enlarged and none too strong. He told me himself he’d been refused insurance…”
Read smiled grimly.
‘‘He never told me.”
“Mr. Upham, I would say, is a rather secretive man, also a very nervy one. He’s got the right spirit: very optimistic, and that always helps. My private opinion is, he has an outside chance. Nothing more, Governor.”
“I see.”
“I’m terribly sorry this happened. We all know how worried you are, anyway. It’s a good thing that gun was almost a toy. A high-powered gun would have killed Mr. Upham instantly, and the bullet might have passed through both of you. After all, there’s something to be thankful for. I don’t know what the Independent’s thinking about, rating poor Boyce that way. If a man ever deserved shooting, that little fool of a hunky did.”
“Boyce lost his head,” said Read, wincing slightly. A picture of the helpless little man being shot like a horse with a broken leg leaped up before his eyes. ”Who wouldn’t, under the circumstances?”
“Well, it’s done now. We can’t mend it. The Independent is just trying to stir up a row. They’re trying to elect Fielding. They don’t mind calling me a murderer, till after election. Then if I’m elected they’ll be fairly friendly again. It’s politics. Irresponsible politics.” Read shrugged.
A nurse came into the corridor from Gregg’s room.
“You may come in now, Governor Cole.”
“Don’t stay more than a moment, Governor,” said the doctor. “He’s very weak.”
Read stepped into the room, closing the door behind him. He saw a huge bouquet of roses on the stand by the bed. Gregg was lying flat with the covers up to his armpits and his hands crossed on his stomach. Read was appalled by his appearance. His face was almost as pale as his hospital shirt; his eyes were sunken. He was sweating from weakness.
“Just wanted to say hello,” said Read, looking down at Gregg.
“Hello, pal,” said Gregg in a hoarse, faraway, other-world voice.
“Better?”
“I’ll make out, I guess. I don’t feel so bad for a guy that’s been shot point-blank. How’re the returns?”
“Nothing much yet. A few precincts from Cleveland, all Fielding. But we expected that.”
“I hope to God you win, Read. This State needs you if you are a goddamned stuffed shirt. When I get well I’ll hold you down. I’ll show you the light. Don’t forget I’m going to work for you.”
The nurse stepped in quickly. She looked so wonderfully healthy and efficient in comparison with the spent man on the bed that Read stared a little, then his heart sank. A certainty began to grow on him: Gregg was done for.
“If you please, Governor,” said the nurse, softly.
“I’ll run along, Gregg. I’ll try to get back before morning. Maybe I won’t make it.”
“I know. Don’t worry about me. I’ll be out of here in a week.” Then Gregg turned and winked characteristically. “I want to get my strength back quick so I can teach this baby here some new tricks.”
The nurse smiled calmly and bent down to smooth out Gregg’s pillow.
“Goodbye, Gregg. This is a good thing for you in a way. You’ll get a rest for once.”
“I need it. Goodbye, Read. Have Charley phone in the returns. My pal here will relay them, won’t you, sugar?”
“I surely will, Mr. Upham.”
Read hesitated, there was so much he wanted to say; but, turning, he went out quickly. Sullavan was waiting in the car. He had already started his traditional post-election bender and talked a little thickly. Read was irritated but tried to control himself.
“Headquarters, Barney,” he said, sinking back beside Sullavan.
“Wanna come up to Headquarters with me for a minute or two?” demanded Sullavan, leaning forward and trying to stare intently at Read. “See the boys. Give ’em a little pat on the head. They sure been faithful workers, them boys.”
“I can’t, Ed. Haven’t time. Express my regrets.”
“They’d sure like to see you, Read.”
There was a short silence. Read sat staring out at the traffic.
“Oh, well,” said big Ed, “if that’s the way you feel… How’s Gregg? Getting better? I said as soon as I heard about it, it ain’t in the cards. Gregg’s too good a guy to get knocked off like that. It just ain’t in the cards.”
“Oh, be quiet.”
Sullavan was outraged and began to splutter, then he sighed.
“I’m drunk. That’s what’s the matter with me.”
“You’re right.”
“I’m sorry, Governor. I’m really and truly sorry. I know how you feel about Gregg. He’s your best friend, and a man’s best friend is… How is Gregg, anyway? You didn’t tell me.”
“He has a chance.”
“Sure, sure; I knew it. Didn’t I tell you? Sure, I’ll bet he’s got a big chance. He’ll come through all right. Don’t you worry, Read. You listen to Ed. He’s never steered you wrong, has he?”
“Why didn’t you wait till after the election to get drunk? You’ll be a pretty sight at Headquarters.”
“I’m all right, ain’t I? I’m talking all right. I can walk straight. Don’t you worry about me. I’ve never steered you wrong, have I?”
Read said nothing. Sullavan fumbled with a cigar, trying unsuccessfully to light it; finally he dropped a lighted match on the floor of the car and bending forward to pick it up, he fell, hitting his head on the back of the front seat.
“Holy mackerel!” he cried, straightening up. “I am drunk. I’m plastered, swacked, tight and lickered. See me fall like that? Christ! I am drunk.”
When Barney stopped in front of Headquarters, Sullavan got out slowly, stepping very carefully.
“I’m sorry, Governor,” he said, standing by the door of the car and peering in foggily. “It was that liquor Johnny Keogh brought. Strong as lye; or maybe I’m getting old. Can’t take it. I never let you down, before, now did I, Governor? You ain’t sore, are you?”
“You’re old enough to look after yourself better, Ed. Go in your office and sober up. Don’t go around and let everybody see you making a fool of yourself.”
“I never thought I’d live to see…” Sullavan began; but Read closed the door.
When Barney drove off, Sullavan was standing at the curb with his hat off and a hurt look in his face.
“Poor old Ed,” said Read to himself. “I should have kept my temper.”
II
The rotunda was huge, shadowy and impressive when Read crossed it on the way to his office. Everybody, except those on official business, had been excluded from it till after election and it was deserted except for the National Guardsmen, acting as sentries, whose steps echoed hollowly under the great domed ceiling.
Captain Boyce and Colonel Putnam were sitting in the outer office, talking earnestly. Harold was at his desk, reading a newspaper. They all got up when Read appeared. Boyce was frowning and his face was red. Read noticed that he looked a little haggard and that his eyes were bloodshot.
“How can they print such things,
Governor?” Boyce burst out, slapping a copy of the Independent. ”I did my duty, that’s all. How can they say things like this about me? Leader of the local Black Shirts and all that rot. I’m a good American citizen. I’ve always been on the square. I fought all through the war, and what did I get for it? I lost the best job I ever had. And here they print stuff like this… I…”
“That’s the Independent, Captain,” said Read. “Have you read what they say about me? You don’t expect an opposition newspaper to worry very much about the truth during an election, do you? Read the Examiner, Captain; and cool off a little. You’ll get used to public life after a while. Pretty soon they can call you a son-of-a-bitch and you’ll never turn a hair.”
“That’s what I was trying to tell him, Governor,” said the Colonel.
“I know,” said Boyce, “but this is too much. If it wasn’t for you, Governor, I’d go wring Bob Todd’s neck.”
“You’d just get yourself in trouble. Grin and bear it. Nobody with any sense is blaming you.”
“You’re always so calm, Governor,” said Boyce. “It quiets a man just to be around you.”
Read said nothing. He was anything but calm. During his twenties, he had been nervous and excitable. Even now his feelings were easily aroused. But he had acquired a façade.
“May I see you, Governor?” asked the Colonel.
“Come right in. Anything new, Harold?”
“Few precincts from Toledo, Governor. Few local precincts. It’s close in Toledo. You’re leading in Midland City. None of it amounts to much, though. Too scanty. Excuse me: Miss Wilson wants to see you.”
The Colonel followed Read into the Governor’s office. There was only one light burning and the huge old room was dim and shadowy. Read took off his coat and hat, then he walked to one of the big west windows. The downtown district of Midland City was spread out before him. He saw the streets filled with people, the mounted policemen riding slowly and warily, disentangling the traffic jams; he heard the indistinct roar of the election night crowd. Horns, rattles and sirens were going and there were sudden bursts of shouting and laughter.
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