Taylor had brought matters to a sudden and unexpected crisis. Carrington had planned to begin his campaign differently, to insinuate himself into the political life of Dawes; and he had gone to the courthouse intending to keep in the background, but Taylor had forced him into the open.
Therefore, Carrington had no choice, and he instantly accepted Taylor’s challenge. After reentering the courthouse, following the departure of Taylor, Carrington had insisted that Judge Littlefield have Taylor taken into custody on a contempt of court charge. Littlefield had flatly refused, and the resulting argument had been what Neil Norton had overheard. But Littlefield had not yielded to Carrington’s insistence.
“That would be ridiculous, after what has happened,” the judge declared. “The whole country would be laughing at us. More, you can see that public sentiment is with Taylor. And he forced me to publicly admit that you were to blame. I simply won’t do it!”
“All right,” grinned Carrington, darkly; “I’ll find another way to get him!”
And so for the instant Carrington dismissed Taylor from his thoughts, devoting his attention to the task of organizing his forces for the campaign he was to make against the town.
He held many conferences with Danforth and with three of five men who had been elected to the new city council—that political body having also been provided under the new charter. Three of the members—Cartwright, Ellis, and Warden—were Danforth men, cogs of that secret machine which for more than a year Danforth had been perfecting at Carrington’s orders.
Some officials were appointed by Mayor Danforth—at Carrington’s direction; a chief of police, a municipal judge, a town clerk, a treasurer—and a host of other office-holders inevitable to a system of government which permits the practice.
Carrington dominated every conference; he made it plain that he was to rule Dawes—that Danforth and all the others were subject to his orders.
Only one day was required to perfect Carrington’s organization, and on Thursday evening, with everything running smoothly, Carrington appeared in the palm-decorated foyer of the Castle, a smugly complacent smile on his face. For he had won the first battle in the war he was to wage. To be sure, he had been worsted in a physical encounter with Taylor, as the bruises still on his face indicated, but he intended to repay Taylor for that thrashing—and his lips went into an ugly pout when his thoughts dwelt upon the man.
He had almost forgotten Parsons; he did not think of the other until about eight o’clock in the evening, when, with Danforth in the barroom of the Castle, Danforth mentioned his name. Then Carrington remembered that he had not seen Parsons since he had throttled the man. He ordered another drink, not permitting Danforth to see his eyes, which were glowing with a flame that would have betrayed him.