CHAPTER XII
OPPORTUNITY KNOCKS AT BRUCE’S DOOR
On the following morning Bruce had just finished an editorial on Doctor West’s trial, and was busily thumping out an editorial on the local political situation—the Republican and Democratic conventions were both but a few days off—when, lifting his scowling gaze to his window while searching for the particular word he needed, he saw Katherine passing along the sidewalk across the street. Her face was fresh, her step springy; hers was any but a downcast figure. Forgetting his editorial, he watched her turn the corner of the Square and go up the broad, worn steps of the dingy old county jail.
“Well, what do we think of her?” queried a voice at his elbow.
Bruce turned abruptly.
“Oh, it’s you, Billy. D’you see Blake?”
“Yes.” The young fellow sank loungingly into the atlas-seated chair. “He wouldn’t say anything definite. Said it was up to the convention to pick the candidates. But it’s plain Kennedy’s his choice for mayor, and we’ll be playing perfectly safe in predicting Kennedy’s nomination.”
“And Peck?”
“Blind Charlie said it was too early to make any forecasts. In doubt as to whom they’d put forward for mayor.”
“Would Blake say anything about Doctor West’s conviction?”