Part 91

“This isn't the kind of convention that will get away!” hissed the colonel in reply, bolstering his own convictions that all was safely harnessed. “But I don't want any fooling.”

He caught the eye of his nephew and summoned him with an impatient jerk of the head.

Richard Dodd hastened across the platform and bent his ear close to his uncle's mouth--the colonel pulling him down.

“If your man can stop that fool now--quick--for five hundred dollars, I'll pay.”

Young Dodd gulped. He needed five thousand dollars!

“He won't consider less than I told you.”

“Well, let the idiot talk to us--he can't do any harm.”

The colonel pushed his nephew away. In spite of that applause he still half expected that the convention would close the nominations. What else was there to do?

“The vote is upon the motion to close the nominations for governor,” stated the chairman. “Those in favor will say 'Aye!'”

Every delegate in that hall was looking at Farr. They were staring at him with curiosity and interest. But even curiosity does not always prompt politicians to open a convention to a person who may prove to be a bomb that will upset plans and precedent.

Then Farr gave them that wonderful smile!

The “Ayes” were scattered and sporadic! Men did not relish shutting off a chap who stood there and smiled upon them in that fashion.

At the call for the “Noes” a bellow of voices shook the hall.

The convention had given this stranger permission to speak by that refusal to subscribe to the cut-and-dried plans. Colonel Dodd was no longer smug. He scowled ferociously.

“Gentlemen of the convention, I am grateful,” cried Walker Farr. “And I will not abuse your patience.”

“Platform--take the platform!” called many of the delegates.

He smiled and shook his head. “Let me talk to you standing here where I can look into your eyes, gentlemen. I feel pretty much alone in this convention. I am alone! I represent no faction, no interest except the cause of the humble who have asked for help from the masters who have been set over them. Perhaps I ought to have remained silent here to-day. My cowardice has been prompting me to keep still. It is no easy matter for me to stand up here and disturb the order of events which had been arranged by the gentlemen who have managed your public affairs for you so many years. But it would be much more difficult for some of the others here to speak, because the gentlemen who manage politics have methods by which they can discredit a man in his profession, ruin him in his business, stop his credit at banks and in other ways make him pay dearly for his boldness in speech. I have no money in banks, no business which can be ruined.”

“I rise to a point of order!” shouted a delegate, obeying a nod from the stage. “The business in hand is the nomination of a governor.”

“That is my business,” stated Farr, calmly.

With political scent sharpened by his apprehension, Colonel Dodd narrowed his eyes, sat straight in his chair, and desperately endeavored to fathom the intentions of this rank outsider.

In spite of his bluster to the state committee he was worried. He had not felt comfortable since his conference with Judge Ambrose Warren. He did not like the “feel” of political conditions. There was some indefinable slipperiness about matters.

He could not bring himself to consider the impossible idea that the convention would bolt--would run amuck, no matter who addressed it--no matter what contingency arose. But to have the convention even tolerate this brazen interloper troubled his sense of mastery; the convention had been too ready to permit the stranger to speak. It wasn't politics as the colonel had been accustomed to play the game. And this--this man from nowhere--it was preposterous!

He snapped his head around and found his nephew close behind him.

“You young whelp,” gritted Colonel Dodd, visiting his anger on the nearest object, “where's your political loyalty? This isn't any time to drive bargains. If you can stop that fellow hustle and do it.”

“It's another man's secret, I tell you. I've got to buy it.”

“I'll make it a thousand.”

Young Dodd's face was white, but he knew how desperate his case was and how vitally necessary it was to play his cards as he held them.

“I gave you final figures,” he whispered.