“Not at all,” Hawley protested indignantly. “You are illogical at your own expense, Fred. Even assuming that you could be coward enough to have done such a thing—which, of course, is quite out of the question, old man—what logical reason could you have had for resorting to such desperate tactics? You were winning. Everything was going your way. You had no cause to use violence.”
Carroll brightened up a trifle at this argument. “I suppose there’s something in that,” he agreed, once more dabbing with his handkerchief at the gash on his temple.
“By the way, old man,” said Hawley, noticing this act; “you haven’t told me yet how you came by that cut and battered countenance. You weren’t in the Chronicle Building when the explosion took place, were you?”
“Not exactly,” Carroll answered, with a sheepish grin. “I received these wounds in the Bulletin Building. When Hodgins and his men came and told me that they wanted me for sending that bomb, I—well, I’m afraid I lost my temper for a little while.[Pg 36]”
Hawley shook his head disapprovingly. “That was foolish of you, old man. I gave you credit for possessing more poise. What will the citizens of Oldham say when they learn that the man who is to be their next mayor was so lawless as to resist arrest?”
Carroll laughed bitterly. “Don’t deceive yourself about any strong chance of my being Oldham’s next mayor. That’s out of the question now. Even if I’m fortunate enough to be able to clear myself of this charge in court, I’ll have a hard job convincing the public that I didn’t send that bomb to the Chronicle office. You ought to have seen how the crowds on the streets acted when I was being brought here. Their attitude was so ugly that I was afraid they were going to take me away from the police and string me to a lamp-post. The people of this town are always willing to believe the worst of a man. You never saw such a community of backbiters. I guess this arrest means the finish of my political aspirations.”
“Nonsense!” Hawley returned reassuringly. “Don’t worry about that, Fred. The public may be inclined to suspect you at first, but we’ll soon swing them around to our side again. We’re going to put you in the mayor’s chair, old man, in spite of this little trouble.”
“We?” exclaimed Carroll pointedly. “Good heavens, man, you don’t seem to realize your own position at all!” He laid his hand sympathetically upon his friend’s shoulder. “Poor old chap! There’s precious little you’ll be able to do between now and election. Even if I do manage to get out of this mess, your goose is cooked for sure. There isn’t any doubt that they’ll send you to jail for six months for taking pictures without a license. They’ve got a clear case against you, and I can’t see how you’re going to get out of it.”
The Camera Chap smiled. “Yes, I must admit that it does look very much as if I’m slated to spend the next six months in practicing the gentle art of converting large stones into little ones. You are wrong in supposing that I don’t realize the position I’m in, Fred.”
“Then how the deuce can you be so cheerful?” Carroll demanded. “By jinks, Frank, you’re the most unselfish fellow I’ve ever met! Here you are worrying about me, and trying to cheer me up, when you have plenty of cause to be brooding over your own impending fate.”