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In the gambling-rooms was gathered an interested and fairly smart throng actors, actresses, clubmen, one or two very emancipated women of the high local social world, and a number of more or less gentlemanly young gamblers. Both Lord and McKibben began suggesting column numbers for first plays to their proteges, while Lynde leaned caressingly over Aileen's powdered shoulders.
Broderick entered, and the door was closed, and locked from the outside. We had no more than shaken hands and mutually wondered what we were wanted for, when the key was turned, the door again opened, and in came tall Jo. McKibben, taller even than Broderick. As he entered, the door was again locked on the outside. The situation was too amusing, and we all laughed over it. But why were we there?
There was some hitch about getting fresh beef for General Halleck's mess, and as by this time everybody had come to look to me for anything and everything in the way of comfort, Colonel Joe McKibben brought an order from the General for me to get fresh beef for the headquarters mess. I was not caterer for this mess, nor did I belong to it even, so I refused point-blank.
He was thinking this matter over when there appeared on the scene a very much younger man than the old General, one Kent Barrows McKibben, the only son of ex-Judge Marshall Scammon McKibben, of the State Supreme Court. Kent McKibben was thirty-three years old, tall, athletic, and, after a fashion, handsome.
McKibben sent books of travel. Cowperwood, uncertain whether anybody would send flowers, ordered them himself two amazing baskets, which with Addison's made three and these, with attached cards, awaited them in the lobby of the main deck. Several at the captain's table took pains to seek out the Cowperwoods. They were invited to join several card-parties and to attend informal concerts.
Stimson, Avery, McKibben, Van Sickle, and others were on Cowperwood's behalf acting separately upon various unattached aldermen those not temperamentally and chronically allied with the reform idea and making them understand that if they could find it possible to refrain from supporting anti-Cowperwood measures for the next two years, a bonus in the shape of an annual salary of two thousand dollars or a gift in some other form perhaps a troublesome note indorsed or a mortgage taken care of would be forthcoming, together with a guarantee that the general public should never know.
Cowperwood smiled pleasantly. So a second company, officered by dummies of McKibben's selection, was organized. De Soto Sippens, without old General Van Sickle's knowledge, was taken in as practical adviser. An application for a franchise was drawn up, and Kent Barrows McKibben began silent, polite work on the South Side, coming into the confidence, by degrees, of the various councilmen.
Kent McKibben knew Horton Biggers, the editor, who was a rather desolate and disillusioned person of forty-five, gray, and depressed-looking a sort of human sponge or barnacle who was only galvanized into seeming interest and cheerfulness by sheer necessity.
Some of the officers held watches in their hands, but most of them kept their eyes on the little ball of bunting which cuddled at the foot of the flagstaff. General McKibben, his long, slim figure erect, stood before the 9th regiment, and when the first stroke of the cathedral clock bell sounded from the tower he whirled around and gave the command "Present arms."
A week later it had declined to ten, and within five weeks, all told, there was scarcely a caller. It is true that a very few of the unimportant those who had looked to her for influence and the self-protecting Taylor Lord and Kent McKibben, who were commercially obligated to Cowperwood were still faithful, but they were really worse than nothing.
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