He dropped into his chair and seized his telephone.
"Central, give me six-o-four--quick!" There was a moment of waiting.
"This you, Judge Kellog?... This is Harrison Blake. I want you to arrange the proper papers for the immediate parole of Doctor West.
I'll be responsible for everything. Am coming right over and will explain."
He fairly threw the receiver back upon its hook. "Your father will be free in an hour," he cried. And without waiting for a reply, he seized his hat and hurried out.
CHAPTER XXI
BRUCE TO THE FRONT
Katherine came down from Blake's office with many thoughts surging through her brain: Of her father's release--of Blake's obduracy--of his mother's illness; but at the forefront of them all, because demanding immediate action, was the need of finding Doctor Sherman.
As she stepped forth from the stairway, she saw Arnold Bruce striding along the Square in her direction. There was a sudden leaping of her heart, a choking at her throat. But they passed each other with the short cold nod which had been their manner of greeting during the last few days when they had chanced to meet.
The next instant a sudden impulse seized her, and she turned about.
"Mr. Bruce," she called after him.
He came back to her. His face was rather pale, but was doggedly resolute. Her look was not very different from his.
"Yes, Miss West?" said he.
For a moment it was hard for her to speak. No word, only that frigid nod, had passed between them since their quarrel.
"I want to ask you something--and tell you something," she said coldly.
"I am at your service," said he.
"We cannot talk here. Suppose we cross into the Court House yard?"
In silence he fell into step beside her. They did not speak until they were in the yard where passers-by could not overhear them.
"You know of Mrs. Sherman's illness?" she began in a distant, formal tone.
"Yes."
"It promises to be serious. We must get her husband home if possible.
But no one has his address. An idea for reaching him has been vaguely in my head. It may not be good, but it now seems the only way."
"Do you mind telling me what it is?"
"Doctor Sherman is somewhere in the pine woods of the North. What I thought about doing was to order some Chicago advertising agency to insert notices in scores of small dailies and weeklies up North, announcing to Doctor Sherman his wife's illness and urging him to come home. My hope is that one of the papers may penetrate whatever remote spot he may be in and the notice reach his eyes. What I want to ask you is the name of an agency."
"Black & Graves are your people," said he.
"Also I want to know how to go about it to get prompt action on their part."
"Write out the notice and send it to them with your instructions. And since they won't know you, better enclose a draft or money order on account. No, don't bother about the money; you won't know how much to send. I know Phil Black, and I'll write him to-day guaranteeing the account."
"Thank you," she said.
"You're perfectly welcome," said he with his cold politeness. "Is there anything else I can do?"
"That's all about that. But I have something to tell you--a suggestion to make for your campaign, if you will not consider it impertinent."
"Quite otherwise. I shall be very glad to get it."
"You have been saying in your speeches that the bad water has been due to intentional mismanagement of the present administration, which is ruled by Mr. Blake, for the purpose of rendering unpopular the municipal ownership principle."
"I have, and it's been very effective."
"I suggest that you go farther."
"How?"
"Make the fever an issue of the campaign. The people, in fact all of us, have been too excited, too frightened, to understand the relation between the bad management of the water-works, the bad water, and the fever. Tell them that relation. Only tell it carefully, by insinuation if necessary, so that you will avoid the libel law--for you have no proof as yet. Make them understand that the fever is due to bad water, which in turn is due to bad management of the water-works, which in turn is due to the influence of Mr. Blake."
"Great! Great!" exclaimed Bruce.
"Oh, the idea is not really mine," she said coldly. "It came to me from some things my father told me."
Her tone recalled to him their chilly relationship.
"It's a regular knock-out idea," he said stiffly. "And I'm much obliged to you."
They had turned back and were nearing the gate of the yard.
"I hope it will really help you--but be careful to avoid giving them an opening to bring a libel charge. Permit me to say that you have been making a splendid campaign."
"Things do seem to be coming my direction. The way I threw Blind Charlie's threat back into his teeth, that has made a great hit. I think I have him on the run."
He hesitated, gave her a sharp look, then added rather defiantly:
"I might as well tell you that in a few days I expect to have Blake also on the run--in fact, in a regular gallop. That Indianapolis lawyer friend of mine, Wilson's his name, is coming here to help me."
"Oh!" she exclaimed.
"You'll remember," he continued in his defiant tone, "that I once told you that your father's case was not your case. It's the city's. I'm going to put Wilson on it, and I expect him to clear it all up in short order."
She could not hold back a sudden uprush of resentment.
"So then it's to be a battle between us, is it?" she demanded, looking him straight in the face.