She hesitated. “I am not sure; circumstances alter cases. When you made Fleetwood Attorney-General two years ago he was the inevitable man for the place.”
“Well—is there a better one now?”
“I don’t say there is—it’s not my business to look for him, at any rate. What I mean is that at that time Fleetwood was worth risking anything for—now I don’t know that he is.”
“But, even if he were not, what do I risk for him now? I don’t see your point. Since he didn’t cost me my re-election, what can he possibly cost me now I’m in?”
“He’s immensely unpopular. He will cost you a great deal of popularity, and you have never pretended to despise that.”
“No, nor ever sacrificed anything essential to it. Are you really asking me to offer up Fleetwood to it now?”
“I don’t ask you to do anything—except to consider if he is essential. You said you were over-tired and wanted to bring a fresh mind to bear on the other appointments. Why not delay this one too?”
Mornway turned in his chair and looked at her searchingly. “This means something, Ella. What have you heard?”
“Just what you have, probably, but with more attentive ears. The very record you are so proud of has made George Fleetwood innumerable enemies in the last two years. The Lead Trust people are determined to ruin him, and if his reappointment is attacked you will not be spared.”
“Attacked? In the papers, you mean?”
She paused. “You know the ‘Spy’ has always threatened a campaign. And he has a past, as you say.”
“Which was public property long before I first appointed him. Nothing could be gained by raking up his old political history. Everybody knows he didn’t come to me with clean hands, but to hurt him now the ‘Spy’ would have to fasten a new scandal on him, and that would not be easy.”
“It would be easy to invent one!”
“Unproved accusations don’t count much against a man of such proved capacity. The best answer is his record of the last two years. That is what the public looks at.”
“The public looks wherever the press points. And besides, you have your own future to consider. It would be a pity to sacrifice such a career as yours for the sake of backing up even as useful a man as George Fleetwood.” She paused, as if checked by his gathering frown, but went on with fresh decision: “Oh, I’m not speaking of personal ambition; I’m thinking of the good you can do. Will Fleetwood’s reappointment secure the greatest good of the greatest number, if his unpopularity reacts on you to the extent of hindering your career?”
The Governor’s brow cleared and he rose with a smile. “My dear, your reasoning is admirable, but we must leave my career to take care of itself. Whatever I may be to-morrow, I am Governor of Midsylvania to-day, and my business as Governor is to appoint as Attorney-General the best man I can find for the place—and that man is George Fleetwood, unless you have a better one to propose.” She met this with perfect good-humor. “No, I have told you already that that is not my business. But I have a candidate of my own for another office, so Grace was not quite wrong, after all.”
“Well, who is your candidate, and for what office? I only hope you don’t want to change cooks!”
“Oh, I do that without your authority, and you never even know it has been done.” She hesitated, and then said with a bright directness: “I want you to do something for poor Gregg.”
“Gregg? Rufus Gregg?” He stared. “What an extraordinary request! What can I do for a man I’ve had to kick out for dishonesty?”
“Not much, perhaps; I know it’s difficult. But, after all, it was your kicking him out that ruined him.”
“It was his dishonesty that ruined him. He was getting a good salary as my stenographer, and if he hadn’t sold those letters to the ‘Spy’ he would have been getting it still.”
She wavered. “After all, nothing was proved—he always denied it.”
“Good heavens, Ella! Have you ever doubted his guilt?”
“No—no; I don’t mean that. But, of course, his wife and children believe in him, and think you were cruel, and he has been out of work so long that they are starving.”
“Send them some money, then; I wonder you thought it necessary to ask.”
“I shouldn’t have thought it so, but money is not what I want. Mrs. Gregg is proud, and it is hard to help her in that way. Couldn’t you give him work of some kind—just a little post in a corner?”
“My dear child, the little posts in the corner are just the ones where honesty is essential. A footpad doesn’t wait under a street-lamp! Besides, how can I recommend a man whom I have dismissed for theft? I won’t say a word to hinder his getting a place, but on my conscience I can’t give him one.”
She paused and turned toward the door silently, though without any show of resentment; but on the threshold she lingered long enough to say: “Yet you gave Fleetwood his chance!”
“Fleetwood? You class Fleetwood with Gregg? The best man in the State with a little beggarly thieving nonentity? It’s evident enough you’re new at wire-pulling, or you would show more skill at it!”
She met this with a laugh. “I’m not likely to have much practice if my first attempt is such a failure. Well, I will see if Mrs. Gregg will let me help her a little—I suppose there is nothing else to be done.”
“Nothing that we can do. If Gregg wants a place he had better get one on the staff of the ‘Spy.’ He served them better than he did me.”
III
THE Governor stared at the card with a frown. Half an hour had elapsed since his wife had gone upstairs to dress for the big dinner from which official duties excused him, and he was still lingering over the fire before preparing for his own solitary meal. He expected no one that evening but his old friend Hadley Shackwell, with whom it was his long-established habit to talk over his defeats and victories in the first lull after the conflict; and Shackwell was not likely to turn up till nine o’clock. The unwonted stillness of the room, and the knowledge that he had a quiet evening before him, filled the Governor with a luxurious sense of repose. The world seemed to him a good place to be in, and his complacency was shadowed only by the fear that he had perhaps been a trifle over-harsh in refusing his wife’s plea for the stenographer. There seemed, therefore, a certain fitness in the appearance of the man’s card, and the Governor with a sigh gave orders that Gregg should be shown in.
Gregg was still the soft-stepping scoundrel who invited the toe of honesty, and Mornway, as he entered, was conscious of a sharp revulsion of feeling. But it was impossible to evade the interview, and he sat silent while the man stated his case.
Mrs. Mornway had represented the stenographer as being in desperate straits, and ready to accept any job that could be found, but though his appearance might have seemed to corroborate her account, he evidently took a less hopeless view of his case, and the Governor found with surprise that he had fixed his eye on a clerkship in one of the Government offices, a post which had been half promised him before the incident of the letters. His plea was that the Governor’s charge, though unproved, had so injured his reputation that he could only hope to clear himself by getting some sort of small job under the Administration. After that, it would be easy for him to obtain any employment he wanted.
He met Mornway’s refusal with civility, but remarked after a moment: “I hadn’t expected this, Governor. Mrs. Mornway led me to think that something might be arranged.”
The Governor’s tone was brief. “Mrs. Mornway is sorry for your wife and children, and for their sake would be glad to find work for you, but she could not have led you to think that there was any chance of your getting a clerkship.”
“Well, that’s just it; she said she thought she could manage it.”