"But Captain Sweetsir is his mill-student!"

"Captain Sweetsir, in this new importance of his, is leaning so far backward, in trying to stand straight, that he's scratching the back of his head on his heels. His own brother is one of our reporters and what Dan did to Dave when Dave made a holler at the door is a matter of record on the emergency-hospital blotter. That's straight! Inch of sword-blade.

Not dangerous, but painful!"

All through this interview Lana had maintained the demeanor of one who was poised on tiptoes, ready to run. She gathered her coat's broad collar more tightly in its clasp of her throat, and started for the door. But she whirled and ran back to Tasper.

"You say that Stewart Morrison is no politician! But I noticed the queer flash in your eyes, Billy Tasper! Do you think he is a coward and has run away?"

"Tut, tut! Not so strong!" The newspaper man put up a protesting palm. "I simply state that His Honor the Mayor is under-somewhere! I never saw any signs of his being a coward--but a lot of us have never been tested by a real crisis, you know!"

"You say he has no power in politics! Could he do anything in a case like this?"

Tasper clawed his hand over his head and the crest of his pompadour bristled more horrently. "He could at least try to undo some of the trouble he has caused by his tongue. He could be at City Hall, where he belongs. The fact that he isn't there--that he can't be found--speaks a whole lot to the people of this city, Lana Corson! Why, there isn't a policeman to be seen on the streets of Marion to-night! We can't get any explanation from police headquarters. A devil of a mayor, say I!"

She turned and fled to the door.

"Lana!" called the editor. "He has made promises that he can't back up--and he has ducked. That's the story! We're going to say so in the _Monitor_. We can't say anything else!"

She made no reply.

She did not wait for the elevator to take her down the single flight of stairs; she ran, holding her wrap about her.

Coventry Daunt, on the watch for her, opened the limousine's door and she plunged in. "Wallace! To the State House! Quick!" she commanded.

When Tasper returned to the city-room he was told that somebody was waiting on the telephone. It was one of the men a.s.signed to the matter on Capitol Hill; he was calling from a drug-store booth in that neighborhood.

"Boss, it looks as if they're going to mix it. The tough mutts are ready to grab any excuse and they won't listen to men like Commander Lanigan of the Legion."

"If there's a fight pulled off all we can do is to see that we have a good story. What else?"

"I think I've located the mayor. I can't get anything at all out of those tin Napoleons at the doors, but Lanigan says that Morrison is in the State House--'on his job,' so Lanigan puts it."

"Lanigan is a liar!" the city editor yelped. "He has been a two-legged Hurrah-for-Morrison ever since his high-school days. I like a good lie when it's told to help a friend! This one isn't good enough! Stewart Morrison is in that State House like tissue-paper napkins are in Tophet."

"But sha'n't I send in what Lanigan says?"

"We won't have any room for the joke column in the morning," returned the city editor, hanging up.

XVII

THE CAPITOL IN SHADOW

Capitol Square was choked with men. The gathering was characteristically a mob made up of diverse elements. It was not swayed by a set purpose and a common motive. It was not welded by coherence of intent. Its eddies rushed here or filtered there, according as arguments or protests gained attention by sharp clamor above the continuous diapason of voices. One who was versed in the natures and the moods of mobs would have found that ma.s.s particularly menacing by reason of the lack of unanimity. Too many men of the component elements did not know what it was all about! The arguments pro and con were developing animosities that were new, fresh, of the moment, creating factions, collecting groups that were ready to jump into an affray that would enable them to avoid embarra.s.sing explanations of why they were there.

A mob of that sort is easily stampeded!

Some men who captained the factions did know why they were there! A few of them harangued; others went about, whispering and muttering, inciting malice by their counsel.

The sc.u.m of that yeasty gallimaufry was on the outskirts.

When the Corson limousine rolled into the square and sought to part its way through that sc.u.m somebody in the crowd made a proposition that was promptly favored as far as the votes by voices went: "Tip the lapdog kennel upside down!"

Chauffeur Wallace met the emergency with quick tactics. He reversed and drove the car backward. The fingers of the attackers slipped from the smooth varnish and the wheels threatened those who tried to grab the running-boards. Men who seized the fender-bar were dragged off their feet.

When Coventry Daunt showed a praiseworthy inclination to jump out and whip a few hundred of them, so he declared in his ire, he was pushed back into a corner by his sister.

The chauffeur made a long drive in reverse, circling, and then put the car ahead with a rush and they escaped into a side-street.

"Wallace, get us home as quick as the good Lord will let you!" Mrs.

Stanton's command was hysterically shrill.

"Wallace, take the first turn to the left," countermanded the mistress.

"Then around the State House to the west portico."

"You crazy girl, what--after that--why--what are you trying to do?"

demanded Mrs. Stanton, fear making her furious.

"I'm trying to get into that building--and I'm going to get in!"

"You can't get in! They won't let you in! Lana Corson, you sha'n't endanger our lives again!"

"Here, Wallace! This turn!"

The driver obeyed.

Doris set rude hands upon Lana and shook her. "There's nothing sensible you can do if you do get in!"

"Perhaps not! But my father is there; he has asked me to help and I'm going to explain to him how I did my best. Doris, I must tell him, so that he won't get into worse danger by waiting and depending on that idiot of a sheriff."

"You are the idiot!"

"I may be. But I'm going in there!'

"Coventry, you are sitting like a prune glace! Help me to prevail on this girl to use some common sense!"

"You'll help me very much if you'll do some prevailing with your sister, Coventry," affirmed Miss Corson, resentfully, trying to unclasp the chaperon's vigorous hands.

"After what has been happening, I don't think Lana needs any more shaking, Dorrie," the brother remonstrated. "Everything having been well shaken, it's time to do a little taking. Won't you take some advice, Lana?"

"If it's advice about going home and deserting my father I'll not take it."

"I was afraid you wouldn't. But do you really think you can get into the State House?"

The girl did not disclose the discouraging information given to her by Editor Tasper on the subject of effecting an entrance. "I'm going to try!