“Who else?”
“But- Look, Jack, I don’t know who did this, but it has nothing to do with
me.” She looked around at us. “You’ve got to believe me!” Suddenly she looked
relieved. “I know! It wasn’t me, so it must have been McNye.”
Tom grunted. I said gently, “Look, darling, McNye is nobody. He’s a
seventeenth-rater who files to get his name in print. He wouldn’t use sabotage
because he’s not out to win. It has to be you-wait!-not you personally,
but the machine. This is what you get into when you accept the backing of
wrong ‘uns.”
“But you’re wrong! You’re wrong! I’m not backed by the machine.”
“So? Who runs your campaign? Who pays your bills?”
She shook her head. “A committee takes care of those things. My job is to
show up at meetings and speak.”
“Where did the committee come from? Did the stork bring it?”
“Don’t be ridiculous. It’s the Third District HomeOwners’ League. They
endorsed me and set up a campaign committee for me.”
I’m no judge of character, but she was telling the truth, as she saw it.
“Ever hear of a dummy organization, kid? Your only connection with this Home-Owners’
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League is Sam Jorgens . . . isn’t it?”
“Why, no-that is- Yes, I suppose so.”
“And I told you Jorgens was a tame dog for Boss Tully.”
“Yes, but I checked on that, Jack. Uncle Sam explained the whole thing.
Tully used to support him, but they broke because Uncle Sam wouldn’t take the
machine’s orders. It’s not his fault that the machine used to back him.”
“And you believed him.”
“No, I made him prove it. You said to check with the newspapers-Uncle Sam
had me talk with the editor of the Herald.” Tom snorted.
“He means,” I told her, “that the Herald is part of the machine. I meant
talk to reporters. Most of them are honest and all of them know the score. But I
can’t see how you could be so green. I know you’ve been away, but didn’t you read
the papers before the War?”
It developed that, what with school and the War, she hadn’t been around town
much since she was fifteen. Mrs. Holmes broke in, “Why, she’s not eligible, Jack!
She doesn’t have the residence requirements.”
I shook my head. “As a lawyer, I assure you she does. Those things don’t
break residence-particularly as she enlisted here. How about making us all some
coffee, Mrs. Holmes?”
Mrs. Holmes bristled; I could see that she did not want to fraternize with
the enemy, but I took her arm and led her into the house, whispering as I went.
“Don’t be hard on the kid, Molly. You and I made mistakes while we were learning the
ropes. Remember Smythe?”
Smythe was as fine a stuffed shirt as ever took a bribe-we had given him our
hearts’ blood. Mrs. Holmes looked sheepish and relaxed. We chatted about the heat
and presidential possibilities, then Frances said, “I’m conceding nothing, Jack-but
I’m going to pay for those papers.”
“Skip it,” I said. “I’d rather bang Tully’s heads together. But see
here-you’ve got an hour yet; I want to show you something.”
“Want me along, Jack?” Tom suggested, looking at Frances.
“If you like. Thanks for the coffee, Mrs. Holmes-I’ll be back to clean up
the mess.” We drove to Dr. Potter’s office and got the photostats we had on Jorgens
out of his safe. We didn’t say anything; I just arranged the exhibits in logical
order. Frances didn’t talk either, but her face got whiter and whiter. At last she
said, “Will you take me home now, Mr. Ross?”
We bumped along for the next three weeks, chasing votes all day, licking
stamps and stenciling autobumper signs late at night and never getting enough sleep.
Presently we noticed a curious fact-McNye was coming up. First it was billboards and
throwaways, next was publicity-and then we began to get reports from the field of
precinct work for McNye.
We couldn’t have been more puzzled if the Republican Party had nominated
Norman Thomas. We made another spot check. Mrs. Holmes and Dr. Potter and I went
over the results. Ross and Nelson, neck and