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Updated: June 20, 2025
Rather, there was an air of earnestness and efficiency which was decidedly prepossessing. Maps of the state were hanging on the walls, some stuck full of various coloured pins denoting the condition of the canvass. A map of the city in colours, divided into all sorts of districts, told how fared the battle in the stronghold of the boss, Billy McLoughlin.
It was inside work, I found, at a glance. Travis, I am sorry to have to tell you that your confidence was misplaced. It was Bennett who robbed you and worse. "But Cadwalader Brown, always close to his creature, Billy McLoughlin, heard of it. To him it presented another idea. To him it offered a chance to overthrow a political enemy and a hated rival for Miss Ashton's hand.
"It's the want of instruments for the band that has us held up," said O'Farrelly. "We lent them, so we did, and the fellows that had them didn't return them." Jimmy McLoughlin pondered the situation. He was as well aware as Mr. Hinde, as O'Farrelly himself, that a demonstration without a band is a vain thing.
"It might be better," said O'Farrelly, "if we was to go home and leave the instruments back safe where they came from before worse comes of it." Ten minutes later the instruments were safely packed again into the cart. One of the Loyal True-Blue Invincibles led the horse. A Wolfe Tone Republican sat in the cart and held the reins. Jimmy McLoughlin and Cornelius O'Farrelly walked together.
His campaign manager, Dean Bennett, was a business man whose financial interests were opposed to those usually understood to be behind Billy McLoughlin, of the regular party to which both Travis and Bennett might naturally have been supposed to belong in the old days. Indeed the Reform League owed its existence to a fortunate conjunction of both moral and economic conditions demanding progress.
That vigorous handshake was enough of itself to convince Ralph Hazeltine that he had made, at any rate, one friend in Orham. And we may as well add here that he had made two. For that evening Jack McLoughlin said to his fellow conspirators: "He said he'd fire me out of the window, ME, mind you! And, by thunder! I believe he'd have DONE it too.
Well, I had all but forgotten it when a fellow came into Bennett's office here yesterday and demanded tell us what it was, Bennett. You saw him." Bennett cleared his throat. "You see, it was this way. He gave his name as Harris Hanford and described himself as a photographer. I think he has done work for Billy McLoughlin.
Not a word could I extract from him either that night or on the following day, which was the last before the election. I must say that I was keenly disappointed by the lack of developments, however. The whole thing seemed to me to be a mess. Everybody was involved. What had Miss Ashton overheard and what had Kennedy said to McLoughlin? Above all, what was his game?
"I have no right to say no," she answered tremulously, but with a look of happiness that I had not seen since our first introduction. Kennedy laid down a print on a table. It was the pinhole photograph, a little blurry, but quite convincing. On a desk in the picture was a pile of bills. McLoughlin was shoving them away from him toward Bennett.
He had uncovered another picture carefully. We could not see it, but as he looked at it McLoughlin fairly staggered. "Wh where did you get that?" he gasped. "I got it where I got it, and it is no fake," replied Kennedy enigmatically. Then he appeared to think better of it. "This," he explained, "is what is known as a pinhole photograph.
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