"Do?" said Conlon. "Ask anny of the byes that've got things in the past! Wait till the carkuses an' ye'll see. But mind, Misther Brassfield, don't be too unconscious. Edgington an' McCorkle, startin' in on the run the day of carkuses, may have good cards. Watch thim!"
XVI
THE OFFICE GOES IN QUEST OF THE MAN
Victory brings peace without;
Amity conquers within.
How can my thought hide a doubt?
Doubt in the mighty is sin!
Yet, as I watch from my height,
Rearing his spears like a wood,
On swarms the dun Muscovite—
Slavish, inebriate, rude!
Dim-seen, within the profound,
Shapeless, insensate, malign,
Fold within dragon-fold wound,
Opes the dread Mongol his eyne!
One waking, one in the field—
Foe after foe still I see.
Last of them all, half-revealed
Prophecy's eye rests on—Me!
—A Racial Reverie.
Mr. Brassfield sat alone, listening to Barney Conlon's retreating footsteps. A few years ago I could have described the solitude of the deserted counting-house, and made a really effective scene of it. Now, however, telephones exist to deny us the boon. No sooner do we find ourselves a moment alone, than we think of some one to whom we imagine we have something to say, and call him up over the wire; or, conversely, he thinks of us with like results. Conlon's back was scarcely turned before Brassfield took down the receiver and asked for Alvord's residence.
"Jim," said he, "I've just found out that Sheol is popping about town.… Yes, it's Edgington. Conlon tells me he's out for McCorkle and against me.… Well, maybe not, but Conlon generally knows. You must go out and run it down. We can't have McCorkle nominated—you can see why.… All right. I'll wait for you somewhere out of sight.… In the Turkish room at Tony's?… Very well: I had another engagement, but I must call that off. Thanks, old man. I shall rely on you! Good-by!"
Up went the receiver, and then, almost at once was lifted to Brassfield's ear again as he sent in a call for Miss Waldron's residence.
"Is this 758? Is Miss Waldron at home?… Yes, if you please.… This you, Bess? Well, I'm in the hardest of hard luck. Things have come up which will keep me cooped up all the evening.… You're awfully good to say so! Good night, dearest!"
The lock clicked behind him, and he was out on the street once more. Came into view a figure which was clearly that of a stranger to Bellevale, and yet had an oddly familiar air to Brassfield, as it moved uncertainly along the darkening highway. It came to the point of meeting and halted, facing Brassfield squarely.