Chapter 20

A Frontier Knock

The next afternoon Winifred lay back in a low chair before a leaping wood fire. She wanted to think, to puzzle out all that was taking place around her. She recognized, yet refused to accept the verdict of her common sense. She was no unsophisticated school girl; she was a woman of the world. The social and political atmosphere in which she moved seemed charged with dynamic possibilities. Her closed eyes suddenly brimmed with tears. Winifred let them fall unheeded, feeling miserable consolation in her self-pity, as women will.

Apart from the senatorial contest lay her personal interest in the game being played by the scheming Burroughs, the unscrupulous Moore and the ambitious Eva, on the one side, and her brother on the other. What chance had Charlie against such a combination? Robert Burroughs had judged truly; Blair's degradation would hurt Winifred inexpressibly. He had chuckled as he had watched the growing attachment between his brother-in-law and the girl, and thought of his vow. He realized that here was a way to bring vicarious suffering upon the man whose distinction had first roused his envy and whose rectitude had won his hatred.

As Winifred groped in the tangle of State and private intrigues that enmeshed her, the fire burned low and the snapping of an occasional spark checked and soothed until her mind slipped into more peaceful channels. She looked about the quiet room. The firelight threw her face into relief and accentuated the faint lines of pain that had come during the last few weeks; a pensive touch had been added to a countenance that combined loveliness with strength. The yellow puff-ball in the gilded cage by the window stirred drowsily, with a faint, comforting chirp. The white and gold of blossoming narcissi, rising from their sheaths of green, gleamed purely from a tabouret, and their incense filled the room.

Presently she took up events of recent occurrence with clearer mind. She had probably exaggerated the seeming coherence of disconnected happenings. She longed to think so. Eva took great interest in the senatorial contest. Should that be an indictment? She craved excitement--expected to hold the stage in any episode; her position as the wife of an eminent jurist gave her a certain prestige in the political arena where pretty women were not unwelcome. The power they wielded, whether consciously or not, was almost unlimited--Winifred had seen enough of the average legislator to appreciate that fact.

In thinking it over, Winifred admitted that Mrs. Latimer had known for many years Mr. Burroughs, Mr. Moore, Mr. Danvers and her brother Charlie--four of the men who were playing their part in the drama fast drawing to its climax. What cause for apprehension in this? Ever since the Latimers' marriage their home had been a rendezvous for the politicians of the State--at least, of Arthur's party. Surely Mrs. Latimer could receive the same guests, even if the judge was away--even if some among her satellites were men whose reputations excluded them from all but the very smartest set. If she talked politics she did so in the pursuit of her affirmed desire to learn of politics at first hand. It could not be that she would descend to the plane of a lobbyist! But what would Judge Latimer think of this surprising fervor? He would not care to express himself as opposed to Burroughs. Did not Eva care for her husband's opinions--for his reputation? Winifred did not feel called upon to judge her friend; she was only trying to account for the circumstantial evidence accumulating against Eva.

When the girl turned her thoughts to her brother, she was sucked into a whirling maelstrom. The doctor's opinion of her had been correct. She knew her brother and his fluctuating fortunes as only a sister of infinite love and infinite tact could know. But she never had dreamed that he could be enmeshed by the wiles of the wife of his friend. The crux of the whole matter lay in the possibility of saving him, not only from Eva's hypnotic charm, but from the less intricate and more thinly concealed machinations of Mr. Moore. Winifred felt her first smart of anger revive toward Mrs. Latimer as she recalled how ingenuously Charlie had been led to the juggernaut of Burroughs' ambition.

It was horrible--horrible! Afresh came the intolerable loathing of it all--this overshadowing political machine, that could scatter ruin in its wake even if it did not obtain control.

Winifred knew that Danvers was studying every move and checkmating where he could. She felt that if possible he would prevent this crime of buying a United States senatorship. He would protect Charlie. Through the doctor she learned how strong a bulwark of the State the senator from Chouteau County was proving to be. She gloried in these recitals, and longed to confide in her old friend, but always the woman's reticence withheld her.

Presently a tap came at the door, and Mrs. Latimer appeared on Winifred's invitation to enter.

"How fortunate," she said, "that you came to the hotel for the winter! It's not only more convenient for you and Charlie, but for me. Would you sit by baby for a half hour, Winnie, dear?" she entreated. "The nurse is out, and I must run downtown before six."

"Yes, indeed! I'd love to."

They passed into the Latimers' apartments, and when Eva finally left, Winifred sat down beside the crib where the child slept. Heavy portieres hung behind her, evidently covering the double doors leading into other rooms beyond. In the stillness she heard a voice.

"I tell you I don't want any paltry thousand dollars! I know of three men who've got five thousand. You promised----" The rest was indistinct. A soothing voice followed that Winifred recognized; then: "I don't care a damn if everybody can hear. I want what you promised if I vote for----" The speaker must have walked from the dividing wall, for the girl heard no more. After a time an almost inaudible scratch, scratch came from behind the draperies. Winifred rose in dismay, throwing down the book she was reading. Who was seeking entrance through this private door? It was evidently a preconcerted signal, for it came again, impatiently; then cautious footsteps retreated. Winifred choked the shudder that swept over her. Mr. Burroughs' headquarters took all the rooms on that side of the hall except those occupied by Judge Latimer and his family. She had heard the unmistakable voice of Mr. Moore. Had he used that frontier knock--a scratch on the door as he might scratch on the flap of a tent?

In a frenzy the girl walked through the suite.

"I will not believe--I will not!" she said to herself. "I do not understand; but it is all right--I'm sure it is. I'll stand by Eva--she shall not be talked about--shall not do foolish things. Oh, this contest! And poor Judge Latimer!" Her thoughts raced on. "How much worse if someone else had heard that signal! But it meant nothing--of course, it meant nothing!"

She smiled, with a conscious effort, when Mrs. Latimer returned, with apologies for delay; and resolved again not to abandon Eva to the innuendos that were already circulating.

"Shall we go down to dinner together, Eva?" she asked, gently. "I'm alone to-night; Charlie is dining at the club."

"Thank you, dear. I believe I'll have my dinner sent up. Thank you so much!"

After her lonely meal Winifred remembered her unfinished book, and thought to get it as she stepped from the elevator. She knocked lightly at Mrs. Latimer's door. She heard a faint rustle inside, then all was still. Again she gave a soft, playful battering of open palms on the panels; then she fled to her own apartments, and flung herself face downward on the pillowed couch, weeping as though her heart would break.