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Updated: June 5, 2025
"Well we'd better wait, hadn't we?" Bland's, voice was shaky. "No. We'll take it and get out," answered Hayden. "I want to see you do it," cried Cargan. "If you think I've come up here on a pleasure trip, I got a chart and a pointer all ready for your next lesson. And let me put you wise this nobby little idea of yours about Baldpate Inn is the worst ever.
The girl bowed with a rather startled air, and Mr. Cargan mumbled something that had "pleasure" in it. In the office they found Professor Bolton and Mr. Bland sitting gloomily before the fireplace. "Got the news, Magee?" asked the haberdasher. "Peters has done a disappearing act." It was evident to Magee that everybody looked upon Peters as his creature, and laid the hermit's sins at his door.
The editor, considering her sex, had sternly refused. Then gradually he had been brought to see the wisdom of sending a girl rather than a man. The sex of the former would put the guilty parties under surveillance off guard. So Miss Rhodes was despatched to the inn. Here was her story. It convicted Cargan beyond a doubt.
What'd the young fellow do?" "Wrote the article, of course," said Magee. "Now now," reproved Cargan. "That remark don't fit in with the estimate I've made of you. I think you're a smart boy. Don't disappoint me. This young fellow I speak of he was smart, all right. He thought the matter over. He knew the reform bunch, through and through. All glory and no pay, serving them.
That's how you ought to look at it. You give me what's my due and you put twenty thousand in your pocket by an honest act. Hayden comes. He asks for the bundle. You point to the dynamited safe. You did your best." "No," said Bland, but his tone was less firm. "I can't go back on Hayden. No it wouldn't " "Twenty thousand," repeated Cargan. "Ten years' salary the way you're going ahead at present.
Then a fashion of derisive cat-calls came and went. After which, here and there, voices spoke of ropes, of tar and feathers. And still the mayor smiled as one for whom the orchard gate swung open in May. A squad of policemen, who had entered the car from the rear, forced their way put on to the platform. "Want us to see you through the crowd, Mr. Cargan?" the lieutenant asked.
We got some business to transact, and we'd consider it a great kindness if you was to leave us alone here in the office." Mr. Magee hesitated. He saw the girl nod her head slightly, and move toward the stairs. "Certainly, if you wish," he said. "I hope you won't go without saying good-by, Mr. Cargan." "That all depends," replied the mayor. "I've enjoyed knowing you, one and all. Good night."
Cargan's unasked question, he said: "I'm going up the mountain presently to reason with our striking cook." "You ain't going to leave this inn, Magee," said the mayor. "Not even to bring back a cook. Come, Mr. Cargan, be reasonable. You may go with me, if you suspect my motives." They went out into the hall, and Mr.
New hoots and cries ascended to the station rafters. "Who pays the police?" "We do." "Who owns 'em?" "Cargan." Thus question and answer were bandied back and forth. Again a voice demanded in strident tones the ignominious tar and feathers. Jim Cargan had not risen from the slums to be master of his town without a keen sense of the theatric. He ordered the police back into the car.
The knight who fought for fair ladies in the snow lay on his pillow and considered briefly. "I get what I go after," remarked Cargan emphatically. "Yes," sparred Magee, "but the real point is keeping what you get after you've gone after it. You didn't make much of an impression on me last night in that line, Mr. Cargan."
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