town.” Sighing, Sullavan got up. Read was already shaking hands all around and smiling in that quiet, self-possessed way of his.
“Governor,” said John Baylor, reloading his foul old pipe for the tenth time, “I’m glad I came down here today. Tell you the truth, I didn’t think this would amount to much. I’ve changed my mind. You’re all right.” He paused and grinned cordially. ”If they beat you, Governor, come up to Cleveland and see me. I’ll give you twice what you’re getting now just to sit in with this bunch of gorillas I’m associated with. Maybe I wouldn’t get my pocket picked so often if I had you around.”
The others looked on in silent disapproval. Baylor simply would not play the game! Always coming in with some unconventional suggestion or remark. Lord knows what the outsiders thought of him.
Baylor shook hands with Sullavan.
“If you’re ever up in Cleveland drop round to the Lake Erie Club. We have nice little games there of an evening and you don’t have to worry about the little fellow.” Baylor laughed and lit his pipe.
The Major followed them out into the hall. A servant was waiting with their hats and coats.
“Many, many thanks for coming, Governor,” said the Major. “You’ve got our wholehearted support. I’ll start the State Income Tax row tomorrow. Gregg will handle it nicely. What we want to do is scare the middle class. Make them think the wealth will move out if Eagle Beak gets in and starts riding us. It may, too. Who knows?”
Sullavan shook hands cordially and even managed a little bow. Read smiled.
“I’m scheduled to talk at the Steelton Armory tomorrow night. You’ll have a front-page story for Sunday morning. I promise.”
The Major rubbed his chin.
“You didn’t pick out a very good locale, Governor.”
“I think you’re wrong. I think it’s the very place to start a row.”
“I see. Well, have plenty of bodyguards. You may need them. My best to you, Governor.”
The Major smiled and went back into his den. Read walked down the long, elaborate hallway with Sullavan, glancing at the big oil paintings, the gilt, the enormous staircase. What a house! Was it really possible to feel at ease in such surroundings? Did a man really learn to take sumptuousness for granted? He glanced at Sullavan, who was also looking around him with awe. Their eyes met. Sullavan seemed to read his thoughts.
“Some dump,” said Sullavan. “I’d just as lief live in the Union Station. How do they heat this place?”
“It makes the Mansion look small,” said Read. The servant opened the front door for them. Read stopped and stared. Eileen, in evening clothes, was coming up the steps with Vincent Riquetti. They were walking arm in arm, very much absorbed in each other, or so Read thought. Read and Sullavan stood aside to let them enter. Coming in the door, Eileen glanced up and saw Read. Her smile faded.
Riquetti took off his top hat and bowed in Read’s direction.
“Good evening, Your Excellency!”
The Italian’s ironic politeness, his deliberately satiric use of a foreign mode of address, his lean, dark, foreign face, all irritated Read almost unbearably. He got a little pale; his gray eyes had a glint to them.
Eileen said:
“Oh, hello, Read. Is the conference over? Vince and I went to hear Sokoloff. It was a nice concert. Vince slept through the Beethoven. He wants Puccini or nothing.”
“Please,” said Riquetti, laughing a little.
They had been drinking: Read caught a faint odor of alcohol; Eileen’s eyes were too bright.
“We stopped at the Massey for a cocktail on our way home,” said Eileen. “Music always makes me thirsty. I want another drink, don’t you, Vince?”
“Of course. Always another drink.”
“Stop for a drink, Read?”
Read’s lips were tight; he could hardly open them to speak.
“No, thanks. I’m tired. Eileen, this is my campaign manager, Ed Sullavan.”
Sullavan didn’t
“Governor,” said John Baylor, reloading his foul old pipe for the tenth time, “I’m glad I came down here today. Tell you the truth, I didn’t think this would amount to much. I’ve changed my mind. You’re all right.” He paused and grinned cordially. ”If they beat you, Governor, come up to Cleveland and see me. I’ll give you twice what you’re getting now just to sit in with this bunch of gorillas I’m associated with. Maybe I wouldn’t get my pocket picked so often if I had you around.”
The others looked on in silent disapproval. Baylor simply would not play the game! Always coming in with some unconventional suggestion or remark. Lord knows what the outsiders thought of him.
Baylor shook hands with Sullavan.
“If you’re ever up in Cleveland drop round to the Lake Erie Club. We have nice little games there of an evening and you don’t have to worry about the little fellow.” Baylor laughed and lit his pipe.
The Major followed them out into the hall. A servant was waiting with their hats and coats.
“Many, many thanks for coming, Governor,” said the Major. “You’ve got our wholehearted support. I’ll start the State Income Tax row tomorrow. Gregg will handle it nicely. What we want to do is scare the middle class. Make them think the wealth will move out if Eagle Beak gets in and starts riding us. It may, too. Who knows?”
Sullavan shook hands cordially and even managed a little bow. Read smiled.
“I’m scheduled to talk at the Steelton Armory tomorrow night. You’ll have a front-page story for Sunday morning. I promise.”
The Major rubbed his chin.
“You didn’t pick out a very good locale, Governor.”
“I think you’re wrong. I think it’s the very place to start a row.”
“I see. Well, have plenty of bodyguards. You may need them. My best to you, Governor.”
The Major smiled and went back into his den. Read walked down the long, elaborate hallway with Sullavan, glancing at the big oil paintings, the gilt, the enormous staircase. What a house! Was it really possible to feel at ease in such surroundings? Did a man really learn to take sumptuousness for granted? He glanced at Sullavan, who was also looking around him with awe. Their eyes met. Sullavan seemed to read his thoughts.
“Some dump,” said Sullavan. “I’d just as lief live in the Union Station. How do they heat this place?”
“It makes the Mansion look small,” said Read. The servant opened the front door for them. Read stopped and stared. Eileen, in evening clothes, was coming up the steps with Vincent Riquetti. They were walking arm in arm, very much absorbed in each other, or so Read thought. Read and Sullavan stood aside to let them enter. Coming in the door, Eileen glanced up and saw Read. Her smile faded.
Riquetti took off his top hat and bowed in Read’s direction.
“Good evening, Your Excellency!”
The Italian’s ironic politeness, his deliberately satiric use of a foreign mode of address, his lean, dark, foreign face, all irritated Read almost unbearably. He got a little pale; his gray eyes had a glint to them.
Eileen said:
“Oh, hello, Read. Is the conference over? Vince and I went to hear Sokoloff. It was a nice concert. Vince slept through the Beethoven. He wants Puccini or nothing.”
“Please,” said Riquetti, laughing a little.
They had been drinking: Read caught a faint odor of alcohol; Eileen’s eyes were too bright.
“We stopped at the Massey for a cocktail on our way home,” said Eileen. “Music always makes me thirsty. I want another drink, don’t you, Vince?”
“Of course. Always another drink.”
“Stop for a drink, Read?”
Read’s lips were tight; he could hardly open them to speak.
“No, thanks. I’m tired. Eileen, this is my campaign manager, Ed Sullavan.”
Sullavan didn’t
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