“Remember you’re going to owe me a fat two grand in the course of the next day or two,” he reminded his self-selected chief at frequent intervals.
But Forsythe vouchsafed him nothing more by way of reply than a sarcastic lifting of the eyebrows. At times Neenan studied him reflectively, and worry lines appeared in the narrow brow. Then there was a flash of dangerous light in the cold, close-set eyes.
The convention moved through two days of tense suspense and excitement. During the routine business of organizing, whenever there was opportunity for a test vote, the original line-up continued firm.
This was discernible on the second day also, in the cheering and speeches accompanying the putting of Forsythe and Hammond in nomination for Governor. The neutrals were still standing in a firm bloc, waiting for Hammond’s statement.
Then, on the morning of the third day came the long awaited opportunity. The session opened with a motion that the convention proceed to ballot for Governor.
Before it was seconded, a Hammond adherent, as previously arranged with the presiding officer, arose, and after a brief eulogy of the sick man announced that he had just been informed by telephone that Mr. Hammond’s doctor had given permission to the patient to read his address to the convention over the radio that morning. He therefore moved that the convention extend this courtesy to Mr. Hammond as one of the nominees.
The motion was carried unanimously, and the time for the address set at ten thirty, one-half hour away. Then, in accordance also with agreement, the same privilege was sought and obtained for Forsythe, and his time set at twelve o’clock.
During the few minutes that remained before Hammond’s voice was due to be heard over the wire, there was an atmosphere of electric suspense in no wise mitigated by the blaring of the band which filled in the interval. In the sick man’s bedroom miles away, the doctor had just examined the patient and ordered every one else out of the room but himself and the nurse in order that the invalid speaker might be as little disturbed as possible.
Pale and trembling he sat propped up in the bed, his manuscript on a tray before him, and the telephone transmitter on an extension bracket at his lips. Downstairs his family and immediate friends were in front of the radio which would hurl back to them the speech he was about to send out.
In a voice deep and resonant in spite of his weakness he began his brief statement. The listeners below and the great crowds in the convention hall down in the city sat breathless.