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Updated: June 12, 2025
"Is one of them the fact that you are afraid of what the 'Spy' is going to say?" The Attorney-General flushed deeply and moved away a few steps. "I'm sick of mud-throwing," he muttered. "George Fleetwood!" Mornway exclaimed. He had advanced toward his friend, and the two stood confronting each other, already oblivious of Shackwell's presence. "It's not only that, of course.
You mean the campaign against Fleetwood. I understand there is to be a big row. Well, he and I are used to rows." Shackwell paused, surveying his cigar. "You knew the 'Spy' meant to lead the attack?" "Yes. I was offered a glimpse of the documents this afternoon." Shackwell started up. "You didn't refuse?" Mornway related the incident of Gregg's visit.
It was the day after the great reform victory which had put John Mornway for the second time at the head of his State, a triumph compared with which even the mighty battle of his first election sank into insignificance, and he leaned back with the sense of unassailable placidity which follows upon successful effort. Mrs. Nimick murmured an apology.
Mornway led me to think that something might be arranged." The Governor's tone was brief. "Mrs. Mornway is sorry for your wife and children, and for their sake would be glad to find work for you, but she could not have led you to think that there was any chance of your getting a clerkship." "Well, that's just it; she said she thought she could manage it."
Shackwell moved in Fleetwood's wake to the door. Mrs. Mornway stood with her head high, smiling slightly. She shook hands with each of the men in turn; then she moved toward the sofa and laid aside her shining cloak. All her gestures were calm and noble, but as she raised her hand to unclasp the cloak her husband uttered a sudden exclamation. "Where did you get that bracelet? I don't remember it."
He had made a clean breast of his past, but had said that, under a man like Mornway, he felt he could wipe out his political sins and purify himself while he served the party. She knew the party needed his brains, and she believed in him she was sure he would keep his word. Fleetwood had made some money for her yes, about thirty thousand dollars.
Mornway had represented the stenographer as being in desperate straits, and ready to accept any job that could be found, but though his appearance might have seemed to corroborate her account, he evidently took a less hopeless view of his case, and the Governor found with surprise that he had fixed his eye on a clerkship in one of the Government offices, a post which had been half promised him before the incident of the letters.
A sound of carriage-wheels had disturbed the quiet street. They paused and then rolled up the semicircle to the door of the Executive Mansion. "John!" Shackwell warned him. The Governor turned impatiently; there was the sound of a servant's steps in the hall, followed by the opening and closing of the outer door. "Your wife Mrs. Mornway!" Shackwell cried.
Mornway has been kind to my wife, and I'd like to help her." The Governor rose, gripping his chair-back sternly. "You will be kind enough to leave my wife's name out of the discussion. I supposed you knew me well enough to know that I don't buy newspaper secrets at any price, least of all at that of the public money!" Gregg, who had risen also, stood a few feet off, looking at him inscrutably.
"No, nor ever sacrificed anything essential to it. Are you really asking me to offer up Fleetwood to it now?" "I don't ask you to do anything except to consider if he is essential. You said you were over-tired and wanted to bring a fresh mind to bear on the other appointments. Why not delay this one too?" Mornway turned in his chair and looked at her searchingly. "This means something, Ella.
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