Quaid nudged Barney.
“Watch out for Hammond,” he whispered.
When Forsythe sat down, Hammond sat bolt upright in his chair and stared hard at the toastmaster.
It was not on the cards to have any more speeches. Forsythe’s address had been planned as the climax of the evening. A half dozen lay figures and uncertain quantities remained at the speaker’s table who would be called on as a matter of form. All were supposed to know better than to do more than rise and bow.
While the prolonged applause for Forsythe was still ringing, the newspaper men gathered up their notes and departed, leaving the Associated Press man to let them know if anything unexpected broke loose at the last minute, not amply covered by the radio.
Then, in its perfunctory course, the name of Martin W. Hammond of Gainsport was called.
The big man arose promptly. But instead of sitting down with a bow and a word of greeting, as the man before him had done, he marched straight down the table to the speakers’ position in front of the microphone.
“Gentlemen, I beg a moment’s indulgence,” he began in deep, mellow tones that filled the suddenly silent hall and rang in the ears of the greater radio audience in a hundred thousand homes. “I did not come prepared to make a speech, but I cannot let this occasion pass without saying certain things that the Honorable Mr. Forsythe left unsaid.”
Boss Quaid grunted and kicked Barney’s shins. Barney turned and winked at Jim Neenan at the little table.
Neenan and his gang jumped to their feet with a yell of “Hurrah for Forsythe! Hurrah for the next Governor! Hurrah! Hurrah! Hurrah!”