This particular day had been a hard one. The problems of gla.s.s and rugs were unusually complicated, and the interruptions to continuous thought more numerous than usual. Moreover, without warning, like a meteor of magnificent proportions, Swami Ram Juna, with many paraphernalia of travel, had suddenly reappeared to ask for that once-proffered hospitality. Not without state and courtesy could such a being be welcomed; and courtesy takes time.

Finally, to discuss the matter of the outer cover for the next issue of _The Aspirant_, a henchman invaded his privacy. Sebastian looked over a pile of designs, and chose a flat but lurid young woman, in a sphinx-like att.i.tude against a background of purple trees. Then came the more difficult question of an aphorism to be printed on the table against which the lurid young woman leaned. It was the habit of _The Aspirant_ to convey, even on its outside, wisdom to the world, and the thinking up of smart young aphorisms is not always an easy task. Mr.

Early at length evolved: "It has been said of old: 'Know thyself.' I say unto thee, 'Forget thyself. Know thy brother.'"

"That sounds fairly well," said Mr. Early wearily, and he dismissed the henchman and settled himself in a particularly benevolent arm-chair, in front of a cheerfully-roaring fire. The place was a remote room, decorated not for public inspection but for comfort. Mr. Early was tired. A certain new question had been waiting in the antechambers of his mind, and to-night he determined to give it leisurely attention; for of late it had several times been borne in him that he was getting along in years and that if he did not intend to die a bachelor, it behooved him to move swiftly. The thought had been quickened into livelier vitality when, at a dinner a few nights before, he had watched the face and studied the figure of Miss Madeline Elton.

She was certainly a rare creature. There was a verve, a magnetic quality to her, that he hardly remembered before. Her beauty, her n.o.bility, her purity he felt to be the artistic attributes of womanhood. No, he not only admired them, they charmed him.

"Yes," said Mr. Early. "By Jove, if she'd lift her little finger at me I believe I'd make a fool of myself over her! And why shouldn't I? Why shouldn't I let myself go? I've got everything else now. A woman of her bigness likes a man who can do things and who controls other men. By Heaven, I believe we were made for each other!"

Mr. Early grew so excited by the strength of his new pa.s.sion that he sprang to his feet and walked up and down to luxuriate in the idea.

Proportionately great was his annoyance when a knock invaded his self-communion, and his man's face appeared at the door to tell him that Mr. Murdock would like to speak with him. While he was yet opening his mouth to anathematize Mr. Murdock, that gentleman entered, familiar and cheerful.

The man who came in was, in his way, a force almost as great and as worthy of regard as Mr. Sebastian Early himself--in fact no less a personage than the power behind the throne of that uncrowned king, William Barry. Though he did not sit on Olympian heights and play with the thunderbolts of jobs and contracts, as Barry did, yet he had an occasional way of interfering in the game, just as in Greek legend Fate loomed large behind the back of Zeus.

Mr. James Murdock was a business genius who dipped into politics, not for office nor yet for glory, but only for gain. Originally a partner of Mr. Early's, when, just as some one else invented a better hook-and-eye, their business was sold out, Murdock let his many-sidedness run riot in a dozen directions. While Mr. Early's abilities led him to "get all there was in it" out of the public on its imaginative side, Murdock worked out his fortune in more practical necessities. St. Etienne was a western city, full of growth and therefore full of needs. There were miles and miles of asphalt to be laid; there were wooden sidewalks crying out to be replaced by stone; there were lighting and watering and park-making; and it was astonishing in how many companies, doing these things, Mr. Murdock had a share, and how frequently his companies secured the contracts for doing them. When rival contractors attempted these public works, there were apt to be strikes and complications which seldom occurred when Murdock had the job. Then all went smoothly and merrily. And this shows how friendship rules the world. For Murdock was the friend of Barry; and Barry was the friend of the strike-ordering walking-delegates. If these three elements, representing the city fathers, the contractors and the laborers, were all satisfied with the way the city's work was being done, who remained to cavil? Certainly not the citizens. St. Etienne's wheels moved almost without friction.

But Murdock went further than this. His was a fine instinct for organization. He used Barry like a fat p.a.w.n, moved down to the king row, until the boss alderman was able to look abroad on his n.o.ble army of small officeholders and contractors, who could be trusted, not only to vote as directed (for to vote is a simple and ineffectual thing), but also to bring up their hundreds and thousands of well-trained dogs to vote, and, if need be, to vote again, and then to see that the votes were properly counted.

It was to Murdock's far-reaching mind that Barry was indebted for the regulation of interests by which almost every man who served the city, and particularly those who served it badly and expensively, was tied to Barry by ties closer than those of brotherly love. Whether official, contractor or working-man, they owed job or contract to the influence that Barry seemed to exercise in the councils of the city. It was by Murdock's advice that the better residence district was well-policed, well-lighted, well-paved and generally contented with things as they were. By Murdock's suggestion the city's interests were zealously guarded in the discussions of the council.

When a committee of the Munic.i.p.al Club visited that august body to listen to a debate on a certain paving contract, they could not help being impressed by the large knowledge of materials and methods displayed by their representatives, and the unanimity with which they agreed that a particular bid was, if not the cheapest, the most deeply satisfying of those offered. What they could not know was the ingenuity with which Murdock saved both the brain and the time of the council by arranging its debate beforehand. But the committee did mention, among themselves, the incongruity between the actual condition of St.

Etienne's streets and the wisdom of the Solons.

But, though Murdock's was the brain to originate and systematize schemes of plunder for which Barry alone had been incapable, once in a while the "boss" grew restive under dominion, in spite of the knowledge that, if he should once break with the master mind, he would soon make some fatal mistake and another would become the whole show. So, if the reign of King Barry was for long temperate and orderly, it was because Murdock impressed upon him that royal arrogance breeds discontent and finally revolt, and that by big rake-offs, on the quiet, enough could be gained to satisfy the ambition of a well-regulated man; and that while plundering was done with decency, the reform-talk of the Munic.i.p.al Clubites would prove no more useful nor ornamental than a Christmas card.

"Don't hog everything!" as Murdock sagely put it. "Let the other fellow have the small end of the trough, and as long as he ain't hungry, he won't squeal."

With equal sternness he repressed Billy's fancy for fast horses and Mrs.

Billy's taste for green velvet and diamonds.

"It don't look well on a salary of eighteen hundred," he said. "Just you be contented with having things your own way without talking about it.

Throw all the dust you like, but don't let it be gold dust."

"You cut a pretty wide swath yourself," Billy growled.

"I ain't a alderman, serving the city for pure love and a small salary,"

grinned the other. "A contractor's got a right to make money."

"You make money out o' me," said Billy sourly. "You keep me under your big fat ugly thumb. I guess I can run this business alone. I got all the strings pretty well in my own hand."

"All right, Barry. I'll be sorry to be on the other side, but if you say so, all right."

Barry swore a moment under his breath and changed the subject. So matters went on, with Barry still subservient, but growing daily more inclined to believe himself the autocrat he seemed, daily a little less cautious, a little more fixed in his a.s.surance that the officeholders, the delegates and the saloon men const.i.tuted, in themselves, a sufficient prop for his dominion, and that Murdock was a nuisance.

"Of course, it's to his interest to keep me under," he said to himself, "and I dunno' whether I'm a fool to let him do it, or whether I'm a fool to try to break away."

He began to try flyers on his own hook; he gathered many rake-offs of which he said nothing to his mentor; he drank a little more and splurged a little more and looked a little more like a bulldog and less like a man. That the spirit of rebellion was growing up and that the p.a.w.n began to take credit to itself for the position of power in which it was placed, came gradually home to Mr. Murdock. It made him at first annoyed, then anxious. So it was that the confidence bred from years of business cooperation drove him this night to look up his old partner.

"Evening, Early," he said as the door closed behind him. "Beastly cold night out. Wish you'd order me a little something hot to induce me to stay by this comfortable fire of yours."

Mr. Early waved his hand toward a chair and settled himself without ceremony. There was this comfort in Murdock: they had known each other too long for pose, and, though the old hook-and-eye partnership was dissolved, and Mr. Early had soared into the realms of Art, they were still closely bound by common interests. So Sebastian met him with cheerful resignation.

"Sit down, Jim," he said. "I don't mind a nip myself. What's up?"

"What's down, you'd better ask. Lord save us! What's that?" exclaimed Mr. Murdock, as he caught sight of the lurid lady lying amid the litter on the table.

"That's the cover of my next magazine. Never mind it. It's not in your line."

"Well, I should say not," said the other with a slow grin. "I've been pretty much vituperated for some of my business deals, but I never sprung a thing like that on the public. 'Forget thyself!' That's good, Early." He winked a wink that came more from the soul than from the eye.

"Oh, drop it, Jim," said Mr. Early, relapsing into the old vernacular.

"I'm sick of everything to-night. Here's your c.o.c.ktail. Help yourself to a cigar."

"You ought to get married, instead of sitting here with the blues all by yourself. Tell you, a warm little wife is a nice thing to come home to."

"Thank you, Jim," said Mr. Early dryly.

They sank into silence, a comfortable silence, permeated with the fragrance of tobacco, with warmth in the cardiac region, and with that crackle of burning logs that satisfieth the soul. But occasionally Mr.

Early shot a sharp glance at his companion, and his study did not rea.s.sure him. At last he spoke.

"Well, out with it, Jim. It's evident that you've something on your mind."

"You're right, I have," said Murdock with sudden emphasis. "I don't know whether you can help me, but it's second nature for me to try you. I'm getting anxious about Barry and affairs connected with him."

"What about Barry? I thought you had him in your pocket."

"Oh, I've still got him in the pocket over my heart, and b.u.t.toned down tight," said Mr. Murdock grimly. "It's because he belongs to me that I'm looking out for him."

"Well," said Mr. Early, and he leaned forward nervously to poke the fire that needed no poking.

"Well! In spite of me, Billy's getting restless. He's getting worse than restless, and I'm afraid to think how he may break out. You know how he loses his sense once in a while. Have you noticed how the _Star_ has been running him of late?" Mr. Murdock slowly gathered force in stating his grievances.

"Yes, I've noticed it," said Mr. Early.

"The _Star_ is the only paper I haven't got a strangle hold of--at least so I thought. But some of the other dailies are b.u.t.ting in. Say they're afraid not to. Of course, an occasional black eye is all in the day's work. It rather helps things along. Billy expects it, and he isn't thin-skinned. It doesn't make much difference as long as our own organs print what they're told. But, say, this thing is going beyond a joke.

Billy has been really cut up over the way this coroner business is getting home to the public. He says if there is going to be squirming, he'll look out that there are other people squirming besides himself. I suppose that's meant as a threat for me. You know there are things--even affairs that you are interested in, Sebastian--that are all on the square, you know, and perfectly right, but they take too much explaining for the public ever to understand them."

"I know," said Mr. Early, still poking the fire.

"And do you know who is back of the whole rumpus?"

"Who?" demanded Mr. Early sharply, looking up.

"Primarily this infernal next-door neighbor of yours."

"Percival?"