Carnac's Folly: Chapter 26

Chapter 26

THE CHALLENGE

The day of the election came. Never had feeling run higher, never had
racial lines been so cut across. Barode Barouche fought with vigour, but
from the going of Luzanne Larue, there passed from him the confidence he
had felt since the first day of Carnac's candidature. He had had
temptation to announce to those who heard him the night before the poll
what Luzanne had told; but better wisdom guided him, to his subsequent
content. He had not played a scurvy trick on his son for his own personal
advantage. Indeed, when his meetings were all over, he was thankful for
the disappearance of Luzanne. At heart he was not all bad. A madness had
been on him. He, therefore, slept heavily from midnight till morning on
the eve of the election, and began the day with the smile of one who
abides the result with courage.

Several times he came upon Carnac in the streets, and they saluted
courteously; yet he saw the confidence of Carnac in his bearing. Twice
also he came upon Junia and he was startled by the look she gave him. It
was part of his punishment that Junia was the source of his undoing where
Luzanne was concerned. Junia knew about Luzanne; but if she condemned him
now, what would she think if she knew that Carnac was his own son!

"A devilish clever girl that," he said to himself. "If he wins, it'll be
due to her, and if he wins--no, he can't marry her, for he's already
married; but he'll owe it all to her. If he wins! . . . No, he shall not
win; I've been in the game too long; I've served too many interests; I've
played too big a part."

It was then he met his agent, who said: "They're making strong play
against us--the strongest since you began politics."

"Strong enough to put us in danger?" inquired Barouche. "You've been at
the game here for thirty years, and I'd like to know what you
think--quite honestly."

His agent was disturbed. "I think you're in danger; he has all your
gifts, and he's as clever as Old Nick besides. He's a man that'll make
things hum, if he gets in."

"If he gets in--you think . . . ?"

"He has as good a chance as you, m'sieu'. Here's a list of doubtful ones,
and you'll see they're of consequence."

"They are indeed," said Barouche, scanning the list. "I'd no idea these
would be doubtful."

"Luke Tarboe's working like the devil for Carnac. People believe in him.
Half the men on that list were affected by Tarboe's turning over. Tarboe
is a master-man; he has fought like hell."

"Nevertheless, I've been too long at it to miss it now," said the rueful
member with a forced smile. "I must win now, or my game is up."

The agent nodded, but there was no certainty in his eye. Feeling ran
higher and higher, but there was no indication that Barouche's hopes were
sure of fulfilment. His face became paler as the day wore on, and his
hands freer with those of his late constituents. Yet he noticed that
Carnac was still glib with his tongue and freer with his hands. Carnac
seemed everywhere, on every corner, in every street, at every polling
booth; he laid his trowel against every brick in the wall. Carnac was not
as confident as he seemed, but he was nearing the end of the trail; and
his feet were free and his head clear. One good thing had happened. The
girl who could do him great harm was not in evidence, and it was too late
to spoil his chances now, even if she came. What gave him greatest hope
was the look on Junia's face as he passed her. It was the sign of the
conqueror--something he could not under stand. It was knowledge and
victory.

Also, he had a new feeling towards Tarboe, who had given him such
powerful support. There was, then, in the man the bigger thing, the light
of fairness and reason! He had had no talk with Tarboe, and he desired
none, but he had seen him at three of his meetings, and he had evidence
of arduous effort on his behalf. Tarboe had influenced many people in his
favour, men of standing and repute, and the workmen of the Grier firm had
come, or were coming, his way. He had always been popular with them, in
spite of the strike he had fought, but they voted independently of their
employers; and he was glad to know that most of them were with him in the
fight.

His triumph over Eugene Grandois at the Island had been a good influence,
and he had hopes of capturing the majority of the river people. Yet,
strange to say, the Church had somewhat reversed its position, and at the
last had swung round to Barouche, quietly, though not from the pulpit,
supporting him. The old prejudice in favour of a Catholic and a Frenchman
was alive again.

Carnac was keyed to anxiety, but outwardly seemed moving with brilliant
certainty. He walked on air, and he spoke and acted like one who had the
key of the situation in his fingers, and the button of decision at his
will. It was folly electioneering on the day of the poll, and yet he saw
a few labour leaders and moved them to greater work for him. One of these
told him that at the Grier big-mill was one man working to defeat him by
personal attacks. It had something to do with a so-called secret
marriage, and it would be good to get hold of the man, Roudin, as soon as
possible.

A secret marriage! So the thing had, after all, been bruited and
used-what was the source of the information? Who was responsible? He must
go to the mill at once, and he started for it. On the way he met Luke
Tarboe.

"There's trouble down at the mill," Tarboe said. "A fellow called Roudin
has been spreading a story that you're married and repudiate your wife.
It'd be good to fight it now before it gets going. There's no truth in
it, of course," he added with an opposite look in his eye, for he
remembered the letter Carnac received one day in the office and his own
conclusion then.

"It's a lie, and I'll go and see Roudin at once. . . . You've been a good
friend to me in the fight, Tarboe, and I'd like a talk when it's all
over."

"That'll be easy enough, Grier. Don't make any mistake-this is a big
thing you're doing; and if a Protestant Britisher can beat a Catholic
Frenchman in his own habitant seat, it's the clinching of Confederation.
We'll talk it over when you've won."

"You think I'm going to win?" asked Carnac with thumping heart, for the
stark uncertainty seemed to overpower him, though he smiled.

"If the lie doesn't get going too hard, I'm sure you'll pull it off.
There's my hand on it. I'd go down with you to the mill, but you should
go alone. You've got your own medicine to give. Go it alone, Grier. It's
best--and good luck to you!"

A few moments later Carnac was in the yard of the mill, and in one corner
he saw the man he took to be Roudin talking to a group of workmen. He
hurried over, and heard Roudin declaring that he, Carnac, was secretly
married to a woman whom he repudiated, and was that the kind of man to
have as member of Parliament? Presently Roudin was interrupted by cheers
from supporters of Carnac, and he saw it was due to Carnac's arrival.
Roudin had courage. He would not say behind a man's back what he would
not say to his face.

"I was just telling my friends here, m'sieu', that you was married, and
you didn't acknowledge your wife. Is that so?"

Carnac's first impulse was to say No, but he gained time by challenging.

"Why do you say such things to injure me? Is that what Monsieur Barouche
tells you to say?"

Roudin shook his head protestingly.

"If Monsieur Barouche does that he oughtn't to hold the seat, he ought to
be sent back to his law offices."

"No, I didn't hear it from M'sieu' Barouche. I get it from better hands
than his," answered Roudin.

"Better hands than his, eh? From the lady herself, perhaps?"

"Yes, from the lady herself, m'sieu'."

"Then bring the lady here and let us have it out, monsieur. It's a lie.
Bring the lady here, if you know her."

Roudin shrugged a shoulder. "I know what I know, and I don't have to do
what you say--no--no!"

"Then you're not honest. You do me harm by a story like that. I challenge
you, and you don't respond. You say you know the woman, then produce
her--there's no time to be lost. The poll closes in four hours. If you
make such statements, prove them. It isn't playing the game--do you think
so, messieurs?" he added to the crowd which had grown in numbers. At that
moment a man came running from the en trance towards Carnac. It was
Denzil.

"A letter for you, an important letter," he kept crying as he came
nearer. He got the letter into Carnac's hands.

"Read it at once, m'sieu'," Denzil said urgently. Carnac saw the
handwriting was Junia's, and he tore open the letter, which held the blue
certificate of the marriage with Luzanne. He conquered the sudden dimness
of his eyes, and read the letter. It said:

DEAR CARNAC,

I hear from Mr. Tarboe of the lies being told against you. Here is
the proof. She has gone. She told it to Barode Barouche, and he
was to have announced it last night, but I saw her first. You can
now deny the story. The game is yours. Tell the man Roudin to
produce the woman--she is now in New York, if the train was not
lost. I will tell you all when you are M.P.
JUNIA.

With a smile, Carnac placed the certificate in his pocket. How lucky it
was he had denied the marriage and demanded that Roudin produce the
woman! He was safe now, safe and free. It was no good any woman declaring
she was married to him if she could not produce the proof--and the proof
was in his pocket and the woman was in New York.

"Come, Monsieur Roudin, tell us about the woman, and bring her to the
polls. There is yet time, if you're telling the truth. Who is she? Where
does she live? What's her name?"

"Mrs. Carnac Grier--that's her name," responded Roudin with a snarl, and
the crowd laughed, for Carnac's boldness gave them a sense of security.

"What was her maiden name?"

"Larue," answered the other sharply.

"What was her Christian name, since you know so much, monsieur?"

He had no fear now, and his question was audacity, but he knew the game
was with him, and he took the risks. His courage had reward, for Roudin
made no reply. Carnac turned to the crowd.

"Here's a man tried to ruin my character by telling a story about a woman
whose name he doesn't know. Is that playing the game after the rules--I
ask you?"

There were cries from the crowd supporting him, and he grew bolder. "Let
the man tell his story and I'll meet it here face to face. I fear
nothing. Out with your story, monsieur. Tell us why you haven't brought
her into the daylight, why she isn't claiming her husband at the polls.
What's the story? Let's have it now."

The truth was, Roudin dared not tell what he knew. It was based wholly on
a talk he had partly overheard between Barode Barouche and Luzanne in the
house where she stayed and where he, Roudin, lodged. It had not been
definite, and he had no proofs. He was a sensationalist, and he had had
his hour and could say no more, because of Barode Barouche. He could not
tell the story of his overhearing, for why had not Barouche told the
tale? With an oath he turned away and disappeared. As he went he could
hear his friends cheering Carnac.

"Carnac Grier lies, but he wins the game," he said.

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