The Cleverdale Mystery: or, The Machine and Its Wheels: A Story of American Life

CHAPTER XIV.
THE ELECTION

'Twas the eve of election, and everything had been done by all sides to insure a full vote. Thorough canvasses having been made by the three candidates, every party felt confident of winning the day. A mass meeting at the Opera House was to be addressed by Senator Hamblin, and the hour drawing nigh a vast crowd assembled. At eight o'clock the spacious balcony was filled with ladies, stalwart men occupying seats on the main floor. When Senator Hamblin entered cheer after cheer greeted him. Bowing acknowledgments, he turned to greet the semi-circle of solid men of Cleverdale occupying chairs on the stage. Although his face was radiant with pleasure, careworn lines about his eyes gave evidence of the strain he had undergone during the exciting canvass now drawing to a close. As he took his seat a gentleman rose and said:

"Ladies and gentlemen, for the purpose of organizing this meeting, I nominate as chairman, William J. Campbell. All favoring Mr. Campbell as chairman will signify it by saying Aye."

There was a loud vote "Aye!"

"All opposed will say No!"

There being no votes in the negative, the motion was declared carried, and Mr. Campbell escorted to the chair. Making a brief speech, he paid a high compliment to "Cleverdale's favorite," Senator Hamblin, predicting a sweeping victory on the morrow, looking for a more harmonious feeling in the party after the canvass was over. His remarks were frequently interrupted by applause, after which he asked the pleasure of the meeting.

Cyrus Hart Miller arose and proposed a number of gentlemen as vice-presidents of the meeting. The list contained names of many old citizens, and it was evident an effort had been made to recognize every element of Cleverdale. Every nationality was represented, even the names of several colored persons – descendants of Ham – being sandwiched between Celtic or Teutonic slices, while the native American was present in small quantity – merely enough for seasoning.

Then followed a long list of secretaries, embracing the names of many young men. The motion being submitted and carried, these gentlemen were invited to take seats on the stage. After music by the band, Cleverdale's glee club sang a piece suitable for the occasion, when the chairman presented Senator Hamblin. This was the occasion for more applause. When this subsided, the honorable gentleman began his remarks. Speaking at length, the occasion offered fine opportunities for display of his oratorical powers. Giving his views upon leading public questions, and comprehensively elucidating all the details of his subject, he compelled his audience to be attentive listeners. His views upon finances were explained, and his opposition to railroads and other monopolies graphically dilated upon. In all his remarks, however, he held one highly-colored picture before his auditors: it was a life-size photograph of himself as a Reformer. No reference was made to Daley and his friends until near the close of the speech, when the Senator paid his respects to them in words not at all complimentary. He told his hearers of having been forced into the campaign against his will, compelled to be their candidate simply to vindicate their honor as well as his own. Not desiring the office, it being a detriment to his business, he had placed himself in the hands of his friends and neighbors, and the morrow's verdict would be received by him either as an indorsement or condemnation of his course as their servant. Having been told that vast sums of money would be expended by the bolting faction, he also had the assurance of gentlemen managing the campaign on his side that every effort would be made to thwart the corrupters of the ballot-box. Dwelling heavily upon this one point, he somehow refrained from telling the audience that his own check for twenty thousand dollars had been drawn that day, and the money distributed in every town in the senatorial district for the purpose of purchasing votes. Had the information been given, the knowledge might have increased his vote among that class of men whose patriotic motives at the polls are governed by money.

The Senator spoke for two hours, and, the meeting closing, the people of Cleverdale were left in a halo of political enthusiasm.

Election day opened pleasantly. Cyrus Hart Miller had thoroughly organized his forces, his chief staff officer being the powerful Paddy Sullivan. Next to his own Bridget and the children, Senator Hamblin occupied the chief seat in Paddy's affections, for the "Boss" being a generous paymaster Paddy adored him.

The opening hours of election day were quiet. During the morning the honest voters cast their ballots, the marketable article appearing later in the day. As Miller entered one of the polling-places and met Farmer Johnson, he extended his hand and said:

"Mr. Johnson, how are you to-day?"

"Mighty well, Miller; how's things agoin' here?"

"Oh, Hamblin will be elected by a good big majority."

"Don't be sartin on it. I tell you what it is, them Daley fellers is a-workin' like blazes into the hands of t'other party."

"That's nothing new, for Daley has been working that way all the time, being paid to bolt and come up a stump candidate. He is a bad man, Mr. Johnson."

"Don't know so much about that air; but see here, Miller – let me speak to you privately – he offered to pay my team hire if I'd come down and vote for him."

"But a farmer worth his forty thousand dollars wouldn't sell his vote!"

"Sell my vote! See here, Miller, let's go into this room. There: I can speak to you by ourselves, now. Do you mean to insinuate I'd sell my vote – me, a farmer who can buy the best farm in this 'ere county? No, sir, you've got the wrong man."

"Why, Mr. Johnson, of course you wouldn't."

"No, I jest wouldn't. But you see this is a good workin' day, and me and my two boys dropped everything to come down to vote. Daley offered to pay for my team if we'd go for him. I don't like him half so well as I do Hamblin; but – er – it kinder seems as if you'd oughter stand the price of our three days' work and team-hire if we vote your ticket."

"What do you call it worth? Are the boys here?"

"Yes, they'll be here in a few minutes; and if you'll give me five dollars – that is, two for the team and a dollar apiece for our three days' work – we'll vote for Hamblin."

"It's a pretty good price, but I suppose I will have to do it."

"But 'tain't sellin' our votes. I'd scorn doing such a mean trick as that. It's only gettin' pay for lost time."

"Exactly so, Mr. Johnson; I wouldn't dare offer to buy your votes for fear of offending you. There are your boys – call them."

The good old farmer, whose fine sense of honor would not permit him to sell his vote, said:

"Jack, you and Jim must vote for Hamblin; give us your ballots, Miller."

The ballots deposited in the box, Farmer Johnson, one of the upholders of our free institutions, received a five-dollar greenback for performing his duty as a patriot. This was only one instance, many of the same character occurring during the day.

Paddy Sullivan was at the polling district, and as the "b'ys" came up, said:

"Now, thin! here's your clane ticket – sthand aside and let the voters come up. Here, Misther Inspecthor, take this ballot. Be jabers, thim's the regular clane ticket, an' it's meself as knows how to git 'em in! Whoop 'em in, b'ys!"

Crowding his fat form before those voting against his candidate, at every opportunity, and challenging them, he ruled despotically, and respectable men looked approval.

"Arrah! Paddy Sullivan is no slouch, and when yees wants the ballot kept clane, I'm the daisy to do it."

Men ran hither and thither; Miller's aids receiving orders flew off, returning with those to be "seen." Whispering consultations were held, ballots distributed and deposited, the corrupted voters thereafter receiving pasteboard checks representing the amount agreed upon. In a small room in another part of the building the holders, presenting the checks, received their cash.

During the afternoon the excitement increased, the purchasable voters flocking about Miller and Paddy Sullivan, the latter standing near the ballot-box and making himself obnoxious to all voting the other ticket. He assumed to instruct the inspectors of election about their duties, and these officials feared to dispute his authority, in many instances their decisions being forestalled by him. Those of the other party were at his mercy, and the power of a pothouse politician was absolute. He was especially abusive to those of his own political party who voted for Daley, and soon after noon the Daley crowd becoming demoralized were driven from the polls.

So thoroughly was Senator Hamblin's programme carried out that every voter on his side was brought to the polls, in many instances men being paid to vote in both polling-places. All this was done in the interest of Senator Hamblin, who claimed to represent the "honesty and reform" element of the community.

Honesty and Reform! what sins you have to answer for! So potent are these names that if Beelzebub ever expects to people his realms with the good, he need only announce from platform and press that he is for honesty and reform.

Toward night Senator Hamblin received words of encouragement from every town. Passing the day at the bank, directing the movements of his forces, he was in excellent spirits at the prospects of his success and the downfall of his enemies.

The polls closing, Cyrus Hart Miller and Paddy Sullivan joined the boss at Hamblin's private office.

"Sinitor, ye're elected by two thousand majority, and there hain't enough lift of Daley to grase a griddle wid. Didn't we vote the b'ys lively!"

"Paddy, you are a trump, and I shall never forget your services in my behalf. Here is a little present for you," and he handed him two one-hundred-dollar bills.

"God bless you, Sinitor, and whin Paddy Sullivan can help yees, he's yer man, every time. May ye live long and niver want for a frind."

Cigars were lighted, and the trio waited for returns. It was not long before the good news began to flow in, Cleverdale's majority for Senator Hamblin being nearly two hundred larger than that of two years previous. No sooner was the result announced than the streets were illuminated with bonfires and a crowd of men approached the bank. Telegrams kept coming in containing news of Senator Hamblin's increased majorities on every side, so that his election was assured beyond a doubt. His countenance beamed with delight, and Paddy Sullivan, whirling upon his heel, shouted:

"Hip! hip! hooray! didn't we whoop 'em in!"

The shout reaching the crowd outside, they at once responded:

"Three cheers for Senator Hamblin!"

In answer to the summons, Senator Hamblin stepped out, followed by Miller and Paddy, and was greeted with cheers from the crowd, who demanded a speech. He responded in a few words of thanks, congratulating his fellow-citizens that honesty and right had triumphed over corruption. When he concluded, cries were made for Miller, who appeared and spoke briefly, thanking his fellow-citizens for their part in the day's victory. Of course he did not refer to the fact that at least three quarters of those before him had received checks, ranging from two to five dollars, for voting for Senator Hamblin.

A great victory had been won – that was enough. Senator Hamblin, figuring the cost, found he had paid over forty thousand dollars for the honor of holding an office for which he would receive fifteen hundred dollars per year for two years. Contemplating the cost, he said:

"It is a pretty expensive investment, but the profits have not yet begun to come in."

It was far into the night when, entering his residence, he retired to his room, and said:

"Now if I can get rid of Alden and make Belle the wife of Mannis I shall be a happy man. Mannis is rich, and I have lately met with heavy losses. To-morrow Sargent goes into the bank, and then – for Alden!"

CHAPTER XV.
GLOOMY FOREBODINGS

The excitement of election had hardly subsided when Daley was declared bankrupt. With the loss of property his mind became shattered. Brooding over his troubles and looking upon himself as a victim of the grossest persecution, his brain became so diseased that he would talk of nothing but fancied wrongs. Friends, observing his singular actions, little thought that he contemplated revenge. Two weeks later, however, Daley entered the bank, pulled a revolver from his pocket and fired two shots at his late antagonist. Luckily the pistol failed to do its work, and Daley was secured before he could do more mischief. Raving and swearing that he would have Senator Hamblin's life, he was removed at once, his friends promising to send him to an asylum. Senator Hamblin agreed not to prosecute him, but the affair caused great excitement, much sympathy being expressed for Daley. His case was only one of many: men infatuated with politics are often overwhelmed in financial and social ruin, occasionally followed by dethronement of reason.

Sargent's position in the bank caused much comment, but he was a good accountant and at once became conversant with his work. Cashier Alden gladly saw how readily he fell into the routine of a teller's duties, for he himself had long been doing the work of two men. While glad to have so useful an assistant, he did not feel the confidence he wished in the new teller, for Sargent lacked that frank expression of countenance that all business men look for in one another. Besides, the attitude that Sargent had occupied toward the president of the bank prejudiced Alden's mind against him. The new cashier knew that Sargent, over his own signature, had made statements reflecting upon Senator Hamblin's character, and had subsequently under oath denied them, his reward being the position as bank-teller. If Alden had been a politician he would have seen nothing unusual in such inconsistency, but being only a business man he judged Sargent by business rules, just as if politics was not a rule unto itself.

One evening Senator Hamblin was writing letters in his private office at the bank when Sargent entered, and said:

"Excuse me, but I desire to get a book I have here."

"All right, Sargent. How do you like your new place?" said the Senator.

"It suits me nicely. Just my fit, thanks to you, sir. Anything I can do to serve your interests I shall be ready to perform."

"Anything, Sargent?"

"Yes, sir! You can command me to do anything you will. I am indebted to you, and only too anxious to serve you."

Senator Hamblin hesitated as if about to speak, and then in a low tone of voice said:

"I have some very important work I may call upon you to perform. It is very peculiar, and will require the greatest secrecy. You have done private work for me before, and whatever you do now will not be without reward. I am not quite ready. In the mean time attend strictly to your duties, and make yourself strong with the cashier. Win his confidence in every particular, and you will have no cause for regret. I have taken you into my confidence as well as my employ. You can go now, as I have letters to write, and wish to be alone."

"Good-night, sir!" said Sargent. "When you need my services, command me and I shall obey," and he passed out of the building.

"Yes," said Senator Hamblin, "I believe he will do anything I desire, and with his assistance a trap can be laid for Alden, for I am determined he shall be put out of the way."

He had just written a letter to Mannis, containing the following lines: "When shall I see you? I desire to know what has occurred to your mind to help along that little scheme. You must have a programme. Shall we meet soon?" Folding and addressing the letter, he soon after started for home, and arriving there saw Belle and George Alden in the parlor. He did not enter the room, but passing the door muttered angrily:

"We will spoil that fun soon. Curse it! I wish I could strangle him!"

His hatred for the cashier increasing, he could not drive the thought from his mind that Alden was really doing something criminal. A certain villain named Iago once worked himself into a similar frame of mind. Hamblin's one absorbing thought was to ruin Alden, and thus estrange from him his daughter's affection.

Belle felt sure that her father's tranquillity was not permanent. Expecting another outbreak, she never awoke in the morning without saying to herself, "I am afraid it will come to-day." Her father often spoke of money losses, accompanying his remarks with these words:

"I should not care, if my daughter were as well provided for as I desire." Although raising no objection to George Alden's visiting the house, he was always cross after seeing him there. At the bank he spoke to him only on business, and as the cashier attended strictly to his duties there was little reason for conversation between him and the Senator.

Of course all this could not escape the attention of the village people, for "folks will talk." Everybody had his own views about the matter. George Alden was often seen with the beautiful daughter of the bank president, and it was remarked that the young lady seemed a satisfied party to the arrangement, so the village gossips had a rich morsel to roll about in their mouths.

One of the directors of the bank, a regular sitter in one of the Cleverdale stores – where that detestable creature, the male gossip, may be found every evening warming his toes as well as warming the reputation of his neighbors – related his suspicions to fellow-sitters, who in turn related them to their wives, and finally the news was generally circulated that Senator Hamblin disliked Cashier Alden because the latter admired his daughter. This was enlarged upon to suit the crowd where the subject was under discussion, until the whole neighborhood knew more about the private matters of the Hamblin family than did the family itself. There is nothing wonderful about this, though, for the family who knows as much about its own business as the neighbors do has never yet been discovered.

Belle observed with pain her father's angry countenance, and sighed as she thought of the change that had come over him in a few short months. Once she was his pet; he never entered the house without uttering words of endearment or presenting her some token of affection; now, sullen and morose, he took his meals in silence, and the old, happy, sunshiny days were only memories.

George Alden hearing her sigh looked into her face, and said:

"Why are you sad?"

"I was thinking – thinking of the happy past."

"And has the present or future no happy moments?"

"Yes, it has many; but oh, George, time works some dreadful changes. Once I was my father's pride, but that day has passed, and now he has no love, but ambition; no companions but such as Miller and Paddy Sullivan; no thought but for politics, and few aims outside of public life. Oh, how I should enjoy one single moment of the good old days – when I had a father."

George offered some lover's sympathy of a kind that, although made by lips, does not put itself into words. But he said:

"It makes me sad to realize that I am much to blame for this state of affairs. If I thought you would be happier I would make the greatest sacrifice man can, and give you up. I know by his every action toward me that I am the subject of his hatred. He considers me a thief who has stolen his most precious treasure, and if I did not fill my position at the bank acceptably I should not be retained an hour."

"Is he unkind to you, George?"

"No, he never speaks to me except on business matters. If he has anything to say, any little pleasantry to relate, it is always to Sargent, whom he treats in a far more friendly manner than he does me."

"What kind of a clerk does Sargent make?"

"He is a good accountant, perfectly correct, and very apt and quick to learn; writes a fine hand, and has the most wonderful power of imitating handwriting I ever saw."

"Do you have confidence in him? Is he a man you can safely trust?"

"H'm – well, he is your father's choice, he trusts him; why shouldn't I?"

Belle, with true womanly instinct, was not satisfied, and said:

"Be frank with me, George. You must have reason for distrusting him, and I ask your confidence. No one more than I can desire you to have a trustworthy clerk."

"I can only say I am not impressed with his honesty. Perhaps I am prejudiced, for you know he has not placed himself on record as one whose word can be relied upon. Belle, when Sargent stepped into the bank I should have resigned at once had it not been for you."

"For me! why?"

"Because your father wished him to have the position. No harm may come of it, but I have a presentiment of evil. Pshaw; it's a foolish whim, no doubt, and I should not be influenced by it, nor worry you with it. I think it is time for me to be off when I torment my sweetheart with presentiments. Good-night."

Belle went directly to her mother, who said:

"What is it, Belle? is anything wrong to-night?"

"Oh, I don't know. Why did papa engage that Sargent as bank clerk? He does not bear a good reputation. George does not have confidence in him, and I am afraid he is not a trustworthy man."

"You and George don't like him, eh? If you and George will please attend to your own affairs you will both appear to better advantage."

Belle started; it was her father who had spoken; he had entered the room unperceived, just in time to hear her remark.

"Papa, as you have heard me, I cannot recall my words. After his publishing such a statement about you, I cannot repress my indignation against the fellow. I do not like him, and with due respect to you have no confidence in him."

"If my daughter will not interfere in the public and private business matters of her father," said the Senator coldly, "but will be guided more by his advice and judgment, her future will be happier, and her companions not of that class who slander their betters."

So speaking, he left the room. Belle's temper rose quickly; the hot blood mantled her cheek, and her eyes flashed fire.

"George Alden's character is as far above that detestable Sargent's as the sky is above the earth. Papa hates those who are good and noble, but he takes to his confidence such men as Cyrus Miller, Paddy Sullivan, and that Sargent. Oh, this detestable politics! It steals the honorable instincts from good men, and makes them willing to sacrifice any and every thing to gain power. It has taken away my dear father, and left you a widow and me fatherless. God pity us both!"

Sympathetic words calmed the daughter's grief somewhat, and a few moments later, bidding her mother good-night, Belle gained her room and fell upon her knees before the only Friend who entirely consoled her when she felt desolate. She arose comforted. She was scarcely asleep when she dreamed that, again a little girl, happy and free from sorrow, she saw her father and flew to meet him. As her arms were about to embrace him, a serpent's head darted before her, the face changing to that of Sargent, who said:

"Beware, maiden! I am the god of political ambition, and am about to crush you in my coils."

As it wound its dreadful length about her she reached forth her hands and piteously implored her father to save her. He only laughed, and said:

"Oh, no, my daughter; I am the slave of the serpent. He demands your sacrifice, and I must obey."

Looking again, she saw the faces of her father's political friends, all laughing at her, and the serpent said:

"Only ten seconds to live!"

Closer and closer its coils tightened about her; she could scarcely breathe; her agony becoming unbearable, she gave a loud shriek, and cried:

"Oh, mother, save me!"

Springing to the floor, the frightened girl beheld her mother entering the room.

"What is it, child? How you frightened me."

"It was a hideous nightmare. I thought I was being crushed by a serpent."

After relating her dream, Belle tried again to sleep, but during the remainder of the night the phantom haunted her. Truly, her dream was only a presage of the grief and trouble in store for her.