“What did you tell him, Wanda?”
“The truth. What else was there to tell? I have heard no secrets, so I had none to pass on. I doubt if Franz Gar even knew Doug was a friend of mine. Then-then all kinds of nasty stuff about my having lived here when Doug did-both of us under the same roof-the illicit love routine.”
“I hope you told him to-”
“To drop dead? No. I’m a straightforward person, a defect of mine, but it makes sleep easier. I said the President and I never had an affair. We have known each other nearly five years, and he has never done anything more aggressive than kiss me, embrace me, hold me, hold my hand, and that yes, we have always been fully clothed in one another’s company. Good Lord, you know Doug as well as I do. To him, all women are Vestal Virgins, unless sanctioned by the church and state to procreate. That’s why I almost laughed at their other charge of immorality-Doug, the libertine, trying to rape that daughter of Senator Watson. Can you imagine them swallowing that?” She halted and looked hard at Abrahams. “No one will believe that, or the things about me, will they?”
Abrahams shifted uneasily. He could never lie to this woman. “People believe what they want to believe, Wanda.”
She was immediately disturbed. “Then you think he might be impeached? He doesn’t think it is possible.”
“Anything is possible, but he is most likely correct in his estimate of it. This may amount to no more than a means of public censure. I did some superficial browsing on the subject this morning. Impeachments by the House of Representatives are few and far between, Since 1797, the House of Representatives has considered innumerable impeachment charges, yet voted to send Articles of Impeachment to the Senate only twelve times in history.”
“Only twelve times,” repeated Wanda, aghast. “I thought only once-Andrew Johnson.”
“No. He was the one President ever impeached. But the House has the right to consider impeachment of other civil officers, too. Besides President Johnson, impeachments were voted against an associate justice of the Supreme Court, a secretary of war, a senator, and eight Federal judges.”
“What happened to the twelve who were impeached? Was that the end of them?”
“God, no, Wanda. Impeachment by the House is not a trial but a hearing. If the majority of the House votes against the evidence, the whole matter is dropped for the time, although the House brought impeachment proceedings against Andrew Johnson three times before it got a favorable vote. If the majority votes in favor of impeachment, that is but the first step. It means the person facing impeachment has been indicted for high crimes, and then, and only then, does his case go before the whole Senate, which is converted into a High Court, with the Chief Justice of the Supreme Court presiding if the President is being tried. Then the person being impeached can have a defense, can retain a staff of attorneys-managers, they are called-to combat the charges of the House managers. Of the twelve men who have gone on trial before the Senate since 1797, eight were acquitted, and four were found guilty, all the guilty were judges, and none was punished beyond removal from office.”
“And eternal disgrace.”
“Yes, I suppose you might say that. The legislator who was impeached, Senator Blount, was not actually tried but was expelled from the Senate, because it was determined that a congressman was not strictly a civil officer.”
“To go back to one point you made, Nat. You said that many impeachment cases have been put before the House, like Doug’s today. Only twelve were sent to the Senate, you said. What happened to the rest?”
“The indictments did not gain a majority vote. They were not passed. Most of the time, however, civil officers whose names are introduced by the House for impeachment don’t let it come to a vote. For example, fifty-five Federal judges have been investigated for impeachment. Eight were impeached, eight were merely censured, twenty-two were acquitted, and seventeen simply resigned their offices and put an end to the proceedings.”
“Nat,” Wanda said quietly, “Doug told me that he was given a chance to resign yesterday-yesterday morning.”
Abrahams felt his hand tighten on the warm bowl of his pipe. “He was? I didn’t know that.”
“Arthur Eaton came to him on behalf of the others. Eaton told him to step aside or quit, on some health pretext, or-or be prepared for what’s going on today.” Wanda fiddled with the buttons of her blouse, eyes downcast. “Nat, you can do something for me, and for Doug. Make him resign. Please do it for both of us.”
Abrahams studied her unhappy profile. “Why, Wanda?” he asked.
She lifted her head, and her eyes had filled. “Because I-I love him-love him too much to see him stripped and tarred and feathered and lynched in front of the whole world. It’ll destroy him, and any happiness he-both of us-might have had. Please make him quit.”
Abrahams felt helpless. “If Eaton couldn’t make him resign, what makes you think I can, even if I believed it was for the best?”
“I know Doug, his sensitivity. Coming from Eaton, it was an insult, got his hackles up. Coming from you, his closest friend, he would listen, knowing you want the best for him.”
Abrahams sucked at his empty pipe, and thought about it. Finally he met her anguished gaze. He shook his head slowly. “Wanda, I truthfully don’t know what is best for him. If he sees this through, he has two chances to survive, to win, to prove he deserves to be President. If he quits now, he loses, he has no more career in public service, he admits incompetence and worse.”
“He’ll be alive!” she exclaimed fiercely. “Everyone on earth will know the professional haters forced him out because he is colored; everyone will know. He might conceivably be popular again, have supporters, come back. And if he didn’t, he could go into private law practice, and we could make a life for-”
“Wanda, you can’t decide this for Doug, and neither can I. Please believe me. Even if he has been goaded beyond common sense, no one can make such a pivotal decision for him. He must make it for himself. That’s all I can say to you.”
“Yes,” she said wearily.
Nat Abrahams wanted to comfort her, but further words would be useless. He rose, and went to the coat tree. As he pulled on his overcoat, he said, “I’ll be on my way. I’m at the Mayflower. I want you to promise me, if any more of the House investigators come snooping, you’ll pick up that telephone and summon me. No more answers to questions without legal counsel at your side. Will you promise?”
She said nothing.
“Wanda, it’s for Doug’s sake as well as your own,” he said sternly.
“I promise,” she said.
“Fine. Now, no more television, either. Keep yourself occupied. Not all of our congressmen are witch hunters. Let’s trust there is a majority who still cling to sensibility and decency. If there is, this will be as forgotten as a bad dream. I’ll see you soon, Wanda.”
“Thanks for everything.”
Not until he had fully emerged into the cold afternoon, and gone down the walk to his car, did he realize how relieved he was to escape Wanda’s problems and Doug Dilman’s problems and the whole impossible situation. Closing himself into his sedan, he felt momentarily insulated from all constricting, suffocating evil, and grateful that he was the lucky person he was, free of torture and punishment, free to return to his untroubled and loving mate, to a new career that promised him wealth and security, to a life unfettered by savage scandal and constant cruelty. Never had he been more grateful than now for being who he was, with so snug and tidy a niche in so seething and blazing a world.
Then, as he turned the ignition key and heard the engine whine and catch, heard its power idling, his conscience was awakened by the smooth mechanical purr.