The Honorable Sammy Scott was carefully planning his lines of battle and marshaling his forces. First he threw out certain skirmish lines—feints to veil his main action. Of course they might unearth or start something, but he was not putting his main dependence upon them. Of such a nature was Corruthers’ trip to the East. It flattered Corruthers and gave him something to do, and it left Sammy unhindered to arrange his main campaign. And, of course, it was also possible that something would come out of this visit.
Among his other skirmishing efforts, Sammy kept looking for the weak spots in Matthew’s armor, but was unable to find many. Matthew’s obvious faults rather increased his popularity. He drank liquor, but not much, and Sammy saw no chance to make him or keep him drunk. He tried bribery on Towns from every point of view, but personal graft had not attracted Towns even when he was in the machine, and Sammy had little hope that it would now. Nevertheless, he saw to it that Towns was offered a goodly lump sum to withdraw his candidacy. Of course, Towns refused. The trouble was, as Sammy argued, that his machine could not afford to offer enough. He did not dare make the offer to Sara. She was capable of pocketing cash and candidate too.
Sammy’s main dependence was to regain or split the Negro vote by careful propaganda; to reorganize his own machine and drive his leaders into line by the free use of money; and to alienate the church and the women from Towns by digging up scandals. Of course that second establishment that Matthew kept down where he used to live was a hopeful bit of scandal, only Sammy couldn’t discover the woman. Naturally there must be a woman, or why should he keep the rooms?
Finally Sammy would try, wherever possible, strong-arm methods to intimidate the independents. Beyond this he believed that in some way he might split the Progressive support back of Matthew by making Matthew say or do something that was too radical for men like Cadwalader, or by making him bind himself to a program which was too reactionary for the radical Laborites.
Sammy envisaged the situation thus: If all efforts failed and Matthew received the Farmer-Labor nomination and the support of the majority of the colored vote, nevertheless, a huge sum of money spent at the polls might even then defeat him. If bribery failed and the Negro vote stood solid, the Progressives gave full support and the Democrats secret aid, Matthew would be elected, but Sammy would emerge from the campaign able to tell the party bosses that the fault was theirs; they should have kept their promise and nominated him. After that, with a large campaign fund, he could reorganize his machine and keep watch on Matthew in office. If Matthew failed to do as the machine told him, and this would probably happen, Sammy would succeed to his job. If Matthew succeeded, he could and must be brought back into the Republican fold, which meant into Sammy’s machine.
Of course, all these possibilities which hinged on Matthew’s successful election were wormwood to Sammy, and he concentrated fiercely on forestalling such success. He was sitting alone in his office this night and thinking things out when there came a phone call. It was Corruthers.
Corruthers came in a half hour later. Corruthers was a cadaverous blond, redheaded and freckled, a drunkard, a dope fiend, and a spellbinder, with brains and no self-control, thoroughly dishonest and extremely likable. He claimed to be a nephew of Frederick Douglass. He looked distinctly glum.
Corruthers was one of those who are dangerous only when they are successful. Once he began to lose he gave up. Sammy was quite different. He was most dangerous losing. It was then that he fought furiously and to the last ditch. Evidently Corruthers had been disappointed and was ready to surrender.
“Didn’t do a thing,” he said, “not a thing. Sure, I found the widow of that porter who was lynched. She’s working in New York. But, my God! she thinks Towns is Jesus Christ and won’t hear a word against him. Swears that the story that he attacked anybody is a lie and threatens to go to court if anybody says that Towns was responsible for her husband’s death. I can’t figure her out at all. I know the story that I got was the truth, but I can’t prove it.
“Then I tried to get a line on that dead man in the wreck. He may have been a fellow named Perigua. Some say he was, but others declare that Perigua went back to Jamaica and has been seen there since. I don’t know how it was. Then I was all wrong about that brown woman. She was an Indian princess, sure enough, a high muck-a-muck and fabulously rich. Probably got interested in Towns because he was a good porter. At any rate, she’s gone back to India, so everybody says, although there again some declare that she has returned.”
“Well, what did you do about that?” asked Sammy impatiently.
“Well, I found out the address of her bankers and went down to inquire about her. Seems that her little country, Bwodpur, has some sort of commercial agency which I was referred to. It didn’t look like much. Mean little office, with two or three Indians sitting around. All I could do was to leave my address and say that I had some news for the lady about Matthew Towns; then I came home.”
“Hell!” said Sammy, lighting another cigar.
“But today,” continued Corruthers, “an East Indian called at my place and asked about Towns. Said he’d been sent.”
“What did you do with him?” asked Sammy.
“He’s outside,” said Corruthers.
“Well, for God’s sake! and gassing about nothing all this time! Bring him in.”
“Wait a minute,” said Corruthers. “What are we going to say to him? I couldn’t think of anything. Of course we might pinch him for a little cash.”
“Nix,” said Sammy, “leave him to me.”
The Indian entered. He looked thin and was poorly dressed. Sammy was disappointed, but he handed him one of his cheap cigars, which the Indian refused.
“I understand,” said the Indian in very good English, “that you have some message from or about Matthew Towns.”
“Ah,” said Sammy. “Not from him, but about him. Er’r, I believe the lady with whom you are connected is friendly with Mr. Towns.”
“Her Royal Highness in the past has deigned to express something like that.”
“And—still interested?”
“I do not know.”
“I mean, she wouldn’t let him suffer or get into trouble, and she wouldn’t want to get in trouble herself on account of him?”
“Perhaps not, but what is the case?”
Sammy paused thoughtfully and then started.
“You see, it is this way. This fellow Towns got in jail for not peaching on a pal. I got him out. He made a good record in the legislature and his friends persuaded him to run for Congress. I’d be glad to see him go, but his enemies and the enemies of his race are threatening to bring up this old jail case, and they say that your Princess is involved. It would be a nasty mess to have her name dragged in publicly now. The only way out, as I see it, is for somebody to persuade Towns to withdraw. Can you or your lady manage this?”
“Very well,” said the Indian, arising.
“But can you do anything?”
“I do not know, I will report.”
And then Sammy said: “What! ’way to India?”
“Her Royal Highness is represented in this country. Good day.”
Sammy glowered after him.
“Royal Highness! Hell!” said Corruthers. “And see all the time wasted on that guy. We ought to have asked him straight for money.”
“Looks like a mare’s nest,” said Sammy, “but my rule is to try everything. Well, enough of that. Now my plan is to see what we can do to split the Progressives and this Farmer-Labor bunch, which is promising to support Towns. I know Sara’s game; she’s playing both ends against the middle. But I’m going to break it up.”