The more she thought about Victor Dorn the more uneasy she became. She had made more progress with him than she had hoped to make in so short a time. But she had made it at an unexpected cost. If she had softened him, he had established a disquieting influence over her. She was not sure, but she was afraid, that he was stronger than she—that, if she persisted in her whim, she would soon be liking him entirely too well for her own comfort. Except as a pastime, Victor Dorn did not fit into her scheme of life. If she continued to see him, to yield to the delight of his magnetic voice, of his fresh and original mind, of his energetic and dominating personality, might he not become aroused—begin to assert power over her, compel her to—to—she could not imagine what; only, it was foolish to deny that he was a dangerous man. "If I've got good sense," decided she, "I'll let him alone. I've nothing to gain and everything to lose."
Her motor—the one her father had ordered as a birthday present—came the next day; and on the following day two girl friends from Cincinnati arrived for a long visit. So, Jane Hastings had the help she felt she perhaps needed in resisting the temptings of her whim.
To aid her in giving her friends a good time she impressed Davy Hull, in spite of his protests that his political work made social fooling about impossible. The truth was that the reform movement, of which he was one of the figureheads, was being organized by far more skillful and expert hands than his—and for purposes of which he had no notion. So, he really had all the time in the world to look after Ellen Clearwater and Josie Arthur, and to pose as a serious man bent upon doing his duty as an upper class person of leisure. All that the reform machine wished of him was to talk and to pose—and to ride on the show seat of the pretty, new political wagon.
The new movement had not yet been "sprung" upon the public. It was still an open secret among the young men of the "better element" in the Lincoln, the Jefferson and the University clubs.
Money was being subscribed liberally by persons of good family who hoped for political preferment and could not get it from the old parties, and by corporations tired of being "blackmailed" by Kelly and House, and desirous of getting into office men who would give them what they wanted because it was for the public good that they should not be hampered in any way. With plenty of money an excellent machine could be built and set to running. Also, there was talk of a fusion with the Democratic machine, House to order the wholesale indorsement of the reform ticket in exchange for a few minor places.
When the excitement among the young gentlemen over the approaching moral regeneration of Remsen City politics was at the boiling point Victor Dorn sent for David Hull—asked him to come to the Baker Avenue cafe', which was the social headquarters of Dorn's Workingmen's League. As Hull was rather counting on Dorn's support, or at least neutrality, in the approaching contest, he accepted promptly. As he entered the cafe' he saw Dorn seated at a table in a far corner listening calmly to a man who was obviously angrily in earnest. At second glance he recognized Tony Rivers, one of Dick Kelly's shrewdest lieutenants and a labor leader of great influence in the unions of factory workers. Among those in "the know" it was understood that Rivers could come nearer to delivering the labor vote than any man in Remsen City. He knew whom to corrupt with bribes and whom to entrap by subtle appeals to ignorant prejudice. As a large part of his herd was intensely Catholic, Rivers was a devout Catholic. To quote his own phrase, used in a company on whose discretion he could count, "Many's the pair of pants I've worn out doing the stations of the Cross." In fact, Rivers had been brought up a Presbyterian, and under the name of Blake—his correct name—had "done a stretch" in Joliet for picking pockets.
Dorn caught sight of Davy Hull, hanging uncertainly in the offing. He rose at once, said a few words in a quiet, emphatic way to Rivers—words of conclusion and dismissal—and advanced to meet Hull.
"I don't want to interrupt. I can wait," said Hull, who saw Rivers' angry scowl at him. He did not wish to offend the great labor leader.
"That fellow pushed himself on me," said Dorn. "I've nothing to say to him."
"Tony Rivers—wasn't it?" said Davy as they seated themselves at another table.