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Updated: May 16, 2025
"Everything is settled," the Governor repeated, "and I want you to notify the press that I have decided to reappoint Fleetwood." Shackwell bounded from his seat. "Good heavens!" he ejaculated. "To reappoint Fleetwood," the Governor repeated, "because at the present juncture of affairs he is the only man for the place. The work we began together is not finished, and I can't finish it without him.
What was my price, and what did I do with the money?" Shackwell glanced about the room, and his eyes returned to Mornway's face. "Look here, John, Fleetwood is not the only man in the world." "The only man?" "The only Attorney-General. The 'Spy' has the Lead Trust behind it and means to put up a savage fight. Mud sticks, and " "Hadley, is this a conspiracy?
Once he laughed, then he set his lips and continued to gaze into the fire. After a while he looked at his cigar and shook the freshly formed cone of ashes carefully upon the hearth. He had just turned again to Shackwell when the door opened and the butler announced: "Mr. Fleetwood."
At this, Shackwell, who had fallen into the background, made a motion of leave-taking, but the Governor arrested it. "We haven't any secrets from Hadley, have we, Fleetwood?" "Certainly not. I am glad to have him stay. I have simply come to say that I have been thinking over my future arrangements, and that I find it will not be possible for me to continue in office."
"Yes I see that," said Shackwell, with reviving obstinacy. "But if you've reached such a height and pulled him up to your side it seems to me that from that standpoint you ought to get an even clearer view of the madness of your position.
He was in evening dress, scrupulously appointed, but pale and nervous. Of the two men, it was Mornway who was the more composed. "I thought I should have seen you before this," he said. Fleetwood returned his grasp and shook hands with Shackwell. "I knew you needed to be let alone. I didn't mean to come to-night, but I wanted to say a word to you."
He expected no one that evening but his old friend Hadley Shackwell, with whom it was his long-established habit to talk over his defeats and victories in the first lull after the conflict; and Shackwell was not likely to turn up till nine o'clock. The unwonted stillness of the room, and the knowledge that he had a quiet evening before him, filled the Governor with a luxurious sense of repose.
"I could hardly buy my information at that price," he said, "and, besides, it is really Fleetwood's business this time. I suppose he has heard the report, but it doesn't seem to bother him. I rather thought he would have looked in to-day to talk things over, but I haven't seen him." Shackwell continued to twist his cigar through his sallow fingers without remembering to light it.
Shackwell was a small dry man of fifty, with a face as sallow and freckled as a winter pear, a limp mustache, and shrewd, melancholy eyes. "I am glad you have given yourself a day's rest," he said, looking at the Governor. "Well, I don't know that I needed it. There's such exhilaration in victory that I never felt fresher." "Ah, but the fight's just beginning." "I know but I'm ready for it.
Even if I don't gain my end, it will be a good thing, for once, for the public to consider dispassionately how far a private calamity should be allowed to affect a career of public usefulness, and the next man who goes through what I am undergoing may have cause to thank me if no one else does." Shackwell sat silent for a moment, with the ring of the last words in his ears.
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