By BRAND A Secret of State AUTHOR OF “THE THIRTEENTH DISTRICT,” “HER INFINITE VARIETY,” “THE HAPPY AVERAGE,” “THE TURN OF THE BALANCE.” ETC, ETC, Jer] WHITLOCK Copyright by The Bobbs- Merrill Company VER at the executive mansion, Governor Chat- ham and his private sec retary were at dinner when the telegram came. @ wo The governor took the yellow envelope from the butler’s tray and tore it open. When he had read the message he passed it over without a word to Gilman. The private secretary's eyes widened as he read it, and he exclaim- ed: “Jim Lockhart dead!” “Yes, poor Jim.” The governor sank into a deep leather chair. He supported his head in his hand and gazed into the fire. Gilman followed, and seating him- melf, likewise fell into a melancholy reverie. The silence within, and the ‘wind sweeping the rain back and forth like a broom without, oppressed him. biennially, and a treasurer cannot suc- ceed himself. “M-m-yes,” said Gilman, “the boys won't like it—but it's only for a cou~ ple of months.” “And as to sealing the treasury,” continued the governor, “lI presume that the morning will be time enough for that.” “Yes, it's a bad night outside, any- way,” responded Gilman. The gov- ernor was lost again in thought. Gil- man went on and out. The clock in the hall tolled eleven. The governor rose, and went slowly up the staircase that winds gracefully from the great hall to the floor above, and thence to his chamber and his bed. In a room on the parlor floor of the Leland, the windows of which looked down on Sixth street, a short, fat man was pacing the floor, “Hell,” he would say, “why the He was a young man. Once or twice | devil doesn’t he come!” he looked at the governor, and then | The little man was William Grigsby, the silence, the wind and the rain and he was the attorney-general of the forced him to speak. | state of Illinois. He had come down “He seemed to be in perfect health from the Jo Daviess hills, to serve a when he went away Wednesday,” he term in the house, and been nominated sald. | for the office he now held by the gov- The silence deepened. The wind threshed the trees and the rain | drenched the windows anew. Gilman spoke again. He said: “The party's lost a good man.” “And 1 have lost another friend,” said the governor. He was growing | old. Without moving, still gazing deeply into the coals, after a little minute, he added: “He was the most generous man I ever knew.” “Yes; and I believe, after all, when the time came, he would have been with you for the renomination.” The governor stretched out his hand to stay Gilman’s speech. “] was not thinking of that, Leon- ard.” The governor did this gently, as he did all things. Gilman's face reddened —for the fire was growing hot—and silence fell again between them. Gil. man felt the silence. He flung his cigarette into the fire. Then he rose. “Guess I'll go over to the Leland,” he said. “Some of the boys may have particulars.” The governor nodded acquiescence, but as Gilman reached the door that feads into the northwest drawing- ‘room, he spoke: “Before you go hand me the stat- utes, if you please. I suppose I have some duty to perform in an event like this.” Gilman, who longed only for action, ‘bore with alacrity the three big calf- {skin volumes to the library table, and ‘turned to the index “I'll find the section for you.” Gil- man examined the second volume for ‘an instant, and then said: “Here it is.” “Read it, please,” said the governor. And Gilman read: ‘ ‘Section six- teen. In case of the death of the treasurer, it shall be the duty of the governor to take possession of the of- fice of such treasurer, and cause the vaults thereof to be closed and se- curely locked, and so remain until a successor is appointed and qualified; and at the time such successor takes possession of the office, he, together with the auditor of public accounts and any of the bondsmen of the deceased treasurer who shall be present, shall proceed to take an account of all moneys, papers, books, records and other property coming into his pos- session; and the auditor shall take of such succeeding treasurer his receipt therefor and keep the same on file in bis office.” There,” concluded Gilman, closing the book, and then immediate- 1y reopening it, “that’s it—it’s chapter one hundred and thirty, section six. teen of the act of eighteen seventy- three, page twenty-three twenty- seven.” “Now turn,” said the governor, “to the chapter on elections, chapter for- ty-six, I think it is, and see what it says about the appointment of a suc- cessor.” Gilman tilted up the first volume, and inspected the red and black labels on its back; then he turned to chap- ter forty-six, and, running his finger down the pages until he found the sec- tion, read hurriedly, mumbling his words until] he came to the vital sen- tence: * ‘When a vacancy shall occur in the office of secretary of state, auditor of | public accounts,’ yes, here it is” (he accentuated the word) “ ‘treasurer, at- torney-general, superintendent of pub- lic instruction’ ” (he was reading rap- idly now and running words together) “‘or member of the state board of | equalization, the governor’ ” (and now he raised his voice and read more slowly and distinctly) “the governor shall fill the same by appointment, and the appointee shall hold his office dur- ing the remainder of the term, and | until his successor is elected and qual- | ified’ That's section hundred and twenty-eight.” { “Well,” said the governor, “I'll name Hillman to fill the vacancy.” Hillman was the treasurerelect, chosen by the people in November to succeed Lock- hart. He was not of the party, how- ever, to which the governor belonged. In Illinois, it will be remembered, treasurers are elected not quadrennial. ernor, John Chatham. John Chatham was his political creator, and the two men had once been friends. The ad- ministration had begun harmoniously enough, but before two of the four years of its political life had expired there was a split, and factions had formed. There had been a fierce fight for the control of the state central committee that year, and the struggle had been carried into the state conven- tion, which nominated a state treas- urer, a superintendent of public in- struction, and trustees of the univer- sity of Illinois. In one faction were the governor, the auditor of public ac- counts, and, of course, his appointees, the adjutant-general, the railroad and warehouse commissioners and the trustees of the state institutions. In the other were the attorney-general and the secretary of state, Jennings. Lockhart, the state. treasurer, had been neutral. He was everybody's friend. And now Grigsby was an avowed candidate for governor, in opposition to his old friend, John Chatham, the man who had made him, The attorney-general continued to smoke and pace the floor, and swear. After a while he consulted his watch again, and then gave the old-fashioned brass bell-pull a vigorous jerk. Pres- ently a negro boy came bearing a pre- sumptive pitcher of water, the tinkling of the ice heralding his approach. The attorney-general would have welcomed ice water in the morning, but now he seized it from the black boy's hand, set it down with a splash on his wash- stand, and shouted: “Go and tell Jim to mix me a com- modore.” Just as the boy reached the door, it opened, and a tall man entered. The tall man seeing the boy, looked at Grigsby. “What'll you have, Hank?” sald the attorney-general. “A little whisky.” “Bring Mr. Jennings some whisky,” ordered the attorney-general. “Bourbon, boy,” added Mr. Jennings. | The boy withdrew. The attorney-general paused before the fire, and looked up into the face of the secretary of state. “Well, Hank,” he said, “I began to fea you hadn't got my message. Heard the news?” “What nets?” “Why,” replied the attorney-general, “haven't you heard? Jim Lockhart's dead.” “The hell he is!” responded Jen- nings. “I hadn't heerd ary word. When'd he die?” “This afternoon.” “Sudden?” “Rather.” “What was ailin’ of him? The attorney-general smiled, a pecu- Har, mirthless smile. The secretary of state ceased to rock. “You don’t reckon now—> © “That's it, exactly.” “l didn’t know it'd got that dad. What'd they give out fer the cause?” | “Oh, heart failure, I suppose.” “Beats hell, don't it?” The secretary of state was silent. Presently he spoke again in an ab- stracted way: “Well, Jim ‘as a devil of a good fel- | ler; as good as you'd meet up ‘ith in a | coon’s age. An’ I reckon when it | come to a show-down, he ’as our | friend. If the boys 'p'ints an investi |, gatin’ committee—Jim ‘as al'ays a lee- tle too free ‘ith the stuff.” : ~ “Hank, I didn’t send for you to- night to hold memorial services over Jim Lockhart. There's something more important than that—there’'s some- |. thing damned important, and it con- cerns me.” “you” “Yes, me. I'm in this thing just | twenty thousand dollars.” “Public funds?” “Well—I don’t know. Course—" “Jim Lockhart didn’t have no pri- vate fortune—‘ithout it ‘as the in- “Well. suppose it was.” “An'thin’ to show fer it?” “l gave him three notes—one for ten, two for five thousand each.” “Well, you're a bigger damn fool than I gave you credit fer bein'” The Egyptian knitted the brows over his long, narrow nose. “Hev you got any money?” he asked “I!” exclaimed Grigsby, with a sar. donic grunt. “Any property? “Only my house up home.” “Hain’t you any friends up there, any bankers that'll take care o’ this thing fer you?” Grigsby laughed ironically. “Cain’t you lay down on somebody fer it?” Grigsby shook his head. “How's your quo ‘arranto proceed- in’s 'gainst the Chicago Consolidated?” “It ien’t ripe yet,” said Grigsby, “and, anyhow, there isn't time. Damn it, man,” he said, raising his voice, and striking his knee with his fist, “it's got to be done now, to-night, or I'm lost. The governor, under the law, must seal the treasury at once, and you know just how long John Chat. ham ‘ll wait. We've got to take care of this thing to-night, to-night, I tell you. That's why I sent for you. “Say, Bill, you and the governor used to be friends, and he hain't a bad feller, no-way. He got you your nomination, you know—why don't you go to him—" “Go to the governor?” cried Grigs- by; “and tell him—tell him!" “Bill,” said the secretary of state, “you don't know the governor. He bain’t my kind, ner I his'n, but I'l tell you one thing—he hain’t the man to take advantage of a feller. You'd be as safe in his hands as you would in mine—safer, maybe,” Jennings con- cluded, with a good-humored chuckle. Grigsby emphatically, doggedly, shook his head. “It never would do in this world,” he said, “never.” “Why, you could get him to hold off till you could take care of it. You and him used to be such friends—tell small cheerfulness that had begun to adumbrate itself in his face faded quite away. He pondered heavily and then said, the old note of fear in his tone: “Has that vault a time lock?” “I reckon.” They were silent. “Well,” sald Grigsby presently, breaking the silence, “I'll have to get Mendenhall.” Mendenhall was the as- sistant state treasurer, and was count- ed among the adherents of Grigsby. “Better let me go,” said Jennings, taking up his coat and hat. When he had gone Grigsby again paced the floor. Altogether, he passed a very bad two hours. And then Jennings returned. As the tall Egyptian entered the room, Grigsby demanded: “Where you been?” “Over to the St. Nick—met up ith some 0’ the boys, an’ set into a little game fer a while.” “See Mendenhall?” “Yep—he'll be 'long. Gosh! it's a regular Shawneetown flood outside!” And the big man waved his big hat in a wide are, the spray from it spit- ting angrily as it sprinkled the fire in the grate. “So it's all right, is it?” “Ump huh.” “How about the time lock?” “Oh, George says they don't never i Hennessey held the bag out toward the secretary of state. “No,” said Jennings, who was pour- ing himself a drink, “give it to the gineral.” The attorney general took the bag and opened it. Inside were four big bundles of bank bills. He lifted them out. Each bundle was composed of ten smaller packages, held by rubber bands, and each package was bound ! with a pink paper strap neatly pinned and . marked “five hundred.” He counted and replaced the packages in the bag. Then taking his coat and hat, he turned to Jennings and said: “Well, let's be gone.” | The secretary of state rolled his head toward the attorney general, waved his long arm and flapped his hand fin-like at him, and said: “We'll wait here, Mike and me. You won't need us.” The clock in the hall of the execu- tive mansion had struck the half-hour after midnight, and the governor was descending the stairs in a gray bath- robe and slippers. The old house was dark and still. Even the room oc- cupled by Gilman, who should, at that hour, have been reading the maga- zines in bed, showed no light. The | governor, softly treading, entered the | library. The last embers of the fire | were smoldering. The governor light- | ed the lamp, and in the circle of soft | light it spread on the library table, he | bent over a bock, his glasses on his use that—haven't sence the day the A Nose, their cord hanging down into senate ‘p'inted that committee to | Dis lap. It was not The Thoughts of count the money in the treasury. A Marcus Aurelius. It was the second ‘Member? By gosh, didn’t pore ol’ | volume of The Revised Statutes of Ili Jim hustle to get a special train an’ ; ROIs, a stupid work which many men haul that money down from Chicago, | consult, laboriously, far into the night. though?” | He softly rustled over the leaves un- The secretary of state wagged his | til he found chapter one hundred and long head and chuckled. Grigsby's heart lightened, and he became almost gay, ordering much drink. And for an hour the two men sat there, waiting and smoking, and drinking whisky—Jennings bourbon and Grigsby rye—and were content. Though every time the yowl of a loco- motive was borne to him on the cold, | thirty. He ran his finger down the | pages till it stopped at section six- teen. And then he read very slowly: “In case of the death of the treasurer, | it shall be the duty of such governor | to take possession of the office of such | treasurer and cause the vaults there- of to be closed and securely locked, ' | and so remain until—" He read the | words again, and again a third time, two men closely as he advanced, and said, speaking in a calm tone: “And so, if you gentlemen have con- cluded your business”—he paused—"1 Shall yrovied 13. thie ezesution of that “I am,” he added, a moment after be able to assist me.” He drew toward them, and they stood aside. He entered the vaults where a gas-jet glimmered, its light glinting on the nickel-plated knobs of the great steel doors. He tried the doors. They were locked. He re mained an instant in thought, and then took from his pocket a stick of red sealing wax. He hesitated ane other instant. “No,” he said, “the great seal could not be utilized.” The great seal of state of the state of Illinois, though it has a political history, is nevertheless, physically, but a huge overgrown seal such as no- taries public use in their little busi- nesses. And in Illinois the governor has no privy seal as he has in some commonwealths. The governor warmed the sealing wax in the gas jet that blazed beside him in the vault. When it began to melt he dribbled and daubed its softened surface, drop by drop, on the combination of the huge safe, as a girl would seal a let- ter. When he had quite covered the Jeck with the molten wax, he sealed it with the seal ring he wore on his left hand, a ring which bore the coats of-arms of a colonial governor. The midnight secret of those two men, whatever it might be, was either safe with them or more safely still, sealed ‘with other secrets behind those mase sive doors. And then he turned the gas down until only a tiny star blinked in the vault, and came out, and swung together the big stcel gates that clanked like prison bars, their locks snapping automatically. He returned to the outer door of the department and placed his hand upon the knob. him you'll lay down fer the sake of | Wet night, Grigsby jerked out his | old times—that's the thing—tell him | Watch. And once he started at a short an’thin’ to get him to hold off fer a | knock on the door, but it was only few days. Then you'll have time to | Mendenhall. turn 'round.” After midnight Grigsby’s anxiety “Look here, Jennings,” said Grigs- deepened, and he ceased to pay atten- by, straightening up and glaring at tion to Jennings’ stories of politics the secretary of state, “Chatham's got down in “southern Eellinoy,” stories LL ig, all you fellows hypnotized. You think he’s a little tin god, that he’s incapa- ble of doing a mean act, of throwinga friend down, or anything of that sort. I tell you I know him better than all of you do. He and I used to be close, thicker'n—" “You wasn't borrowin’ money out o' the state treasury them days, though, was you, Bill?” interrupted Jennings. Grigsby colored. Jennings’ brow was gathered once more in wrinkles that indicated thought. His face rapidly assumed an “Bill,” he said, “I'm goin’ to do HAVE ANENCACEMENT THIS MORIY | 7/) [| ne.MRBALDWIN. [1 SORRY, BUT | CUESS | CANT COME.”’ about Don Morrison and John A, Lo- gan. At twelve-forty he rose and trod the floor, but Jennings’ long form was stretched out before the fire, his whisky glass was at his elbow, and he sald from time to time: “Oh, fer God's sake, Bill, set down— they'll be ‘long all right.” “Isn't that the Wabash?” said Grigsby, cocking his head at the night FH i fei Hd HH , drew out a paper which he examined critically, squinting his eyes, partly to protect them from the smoke that | curled up from a big domestic cigar, partly—as it seemed, to assist in the , concentration of his thoughts. eral a military title, which custom that functionary fosters—“Gineral, will you give me your signature to that, fore you start?” Grigsby glowered at Jennings, read | the paper, said somewhat petulantly: “Oh, of course,” and hesitatingly signed it. “Now, Hennessey,” said Jennings, | and yet again. | He closed the book, put out the | lamp and slowly felt his way back up | the stairs. | Ten minutes later he descended | again, and groping in the hall, drew a greatcoat over his broad shoulders, covered his head with the slouch hat he wore when he went down into southern Illinois, and let himself out of the wide front door. The asphalt driveway that flings its long curve i through the grounds of the guberna- torial residence from Fifth street to Fourth, gleamed like the surface of a river at night. The rain no longer fell, but the trees dripped dismally. Across flying. The governor walked down the | as far as he could see, wavered under | the electric lights at the crossings. { The governor turned at Jackson | street and walked down the sleeping ' ! little avenue toward Second street. | i Below a low brown house trickling its | | eaves behind two sentinel cedars, he The bell jangled harshly upon the sleeping stillness. The jangling trem- bled away. He rang again. was a reluctant stir within and a voice, a scared woman's voice, said: “Who's there?” ‘The governor,” he responded. “Is Mr. Mendenhall at home?” “No, sir; he hasn't got in yet.” The governor strode on into Second street, past the residence of the bishop of Springfield, standing behind .white pillars deep in its naked grove, past St. Agatha’s seminary sleeping in I | walk, and pulled the white bell-knob. | | house. The brooding building loomed | above him, dark and dour, heaving, its great gray dome into the grim the low night sky black clouds were driveway to the big iron gates at Fourth street, whose watered surface ' There “Gentlemen,” he said ceremoniously, “I await your pleasure.” He bent his gaze full upon William Grigsby, and that little man, throwing back his head with something like de- flance, strode on his short legs out of the high-ceiled room, and Mendenhall followed him, but meekly. As they filed past, Grigsby, with face upturned, a face that now in anger had taken on the blue tinge of butchered beef, drew his hands from h#& overcoat pocket and clasped them behind his back. The governor bowed as the lite tle man and Mendenhall swept out before him. And then he drew the big walnut door to. Standing out in the corridor Grigsby | waited, and as he stood and waited, he fumbled in the outer pocket of his overcoat. Suddenly he drew forth his ; hand. His face had turned white, the | white of a fish's belly. As the governor drew the big wal- nut door to, and as it swung behind him, it pushed before it, scraping with the peevish voice of a ratchet ! along the matted floor, a plece of crumbled paper. Grigsby, who had turned toward Mendenhall with a look : of death’s despair, saw it, and started, ! a faint ray of hope beaming in his | eve. But the paper lay under the gow ernor's feet. The governor closed the doors. | “You may lock them, Mr. Menden- | ball,” he said. ! The assistant state treasurer drew | a Jingling bunch of keys from his pocket and locked the door. Grigsby's | eyes were fastened on the paper at the ' | governor's feet. His heart was swell its gloom, until he reached the state | ing in his throat. His fingers were twitching, and he was sweating like a stoker. At Mendenhall’s approach the governor placed his foot upon the night. Huge granite pillars lifted | Paper. When Mendenhall had done, themselves above him, he was lost nm! the governor picked it up. He the shades of the left portico. He smoothed it out in his fingers, and unlocked and pushed open the heavy | 81oWly adjusted his glasses. By the door. The great marble corridors dim light that always burns at night were dark and echoed to the touch Just outside the door of the state wide rotunda, under the enormous i the pocket of his overcoat. He dome, thick with billowing gloom, & kept his hand upon it. The blue of | janitor, the people's solitary night Origsby’s face deepened. ‘watch, slept profoundly in his chair,’ The three men went down the ‘his mouth open, his white beard upon stairs, the governor standing aside at ‘his breast. His gossips had departed. ‘the top to let them precede him. They ‘Their deserted chairs stood aimlessly crossed the rotunda, past the slumber f & : ; : : 3 i f f Illinois, who stood with dropping jaw | staring at the governor. The attorney | general stood motionless, aud then plunged a hand with three pieces of | paper into an outer pocket of his | “Gineral,” he sald—by some | Springfield they yo les dow 300) The governor was the first one to | “Good evening, gentlemen,” he said. The two men did not reply, and the governor spoke again. “Under the law, gentlemen,” he ‘said, “the duty devolves upon me of iclosing and locking the treasury and | temporarily assuming possession of lt” ;~ Still the men did not reply. The villain, and had a collar on his neck. The attorney generai was thinking of the days that were to come. The governor was thinking of the days that were gone. Silent, thoughtful, thus they kept on up Capitol avenue. When approachd the shades that gath- ered under the ugly iron bridge which spans the ragged street that leads to the capitol of Illinois, the Al- ton's St. Louis Limited came plunging through the town, half an hour late. The three men halted. The great mysterious, vestibuled train, with its darkly curtained Pullmans, slid across the bridge. As they stood waiting for it to pass that they might go under, the governor withdrew his hand from his pocket, the paper still folded In it. He held the paper out toward Grigs- § carefully placing the paper in a 1008 yy5ueq of Grigsby’s face had become by. pocketbook he drew from the region , flaceld, and a greenish shade had | overspread them. His eyes had con “William,” he said, “I think you | dropped something.”
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