The Final Adversary by Gilbert Morris Page B

emphasis, “My husband also says that a man who is interested in public office is even more vulnerable. For he may be betrayed by the inefficiency—or the corruption—of his people.”
    Carmody was fully alarmed now. His mind had been working rapidly, and he recalled that Mark Winslow was indeed a power within the party—the party whose support he had to have if he expected to climb to the top. He nodded. “Very true, Mrs. Winslow. It’s inevitable that a man will make some mistakes in choosing his lieutenants. Suppose you tell me about your son.”
    Lola had carefully planned her meeting with Carmody, not even informing Mark of her intent. She was wise enough toknow that the evidence she had was pitifully thin, that it was not enough to cause the courts to reconsider their verdict.
    But she was also aware of Dan Carmody’s keen political ambitions. With that in mind, she had put together the few facts she held in a way that would affect those ambitions. In blunt terms, Mrs. Winslow recounted the story of the robbery. She stressed the fact that Adams, the man who had been shot, could not identify her son as the assailant, but that she had evidence a man named Studs Ketchel had hired Legs Manti to commit the holdup.
    “What evidence do you have against Studs Ketchel?”
    “That will come out in the trial—if it comes to that, Mr. Carmody,” Lola said evenly.
    “I’ll have to speak to Ketchel—but I don’t think he’s guilty. Come and see me tomorrow.”
    “Ketchel is in his office down the hall,” Lola said. “Call him in right now. The three of us will have this out.” She saw the anger rise in Carmody’s face, and added, “When I leave this office, your opportunity to handle this quietly is gone. I will go straight to the newspapers and then to my husband. I don’t know if it will get my son out of prison or not, but it will be very hard on you, Mr. Carmody. Fatal, I think, to your political aims.”
    Carmody had never been so helpless. Anger raced through him, but he knew he had no choice. “Patterson!” he called, and when the secretary appeared, said, “Get Studs in here!”
    “Yes, sir.”
    As the door closed, Carmody went to his chair and sat down. The woman didn’t speak, and in the silence, his eyes fell on the picture of himself shaking hands with William McKinley. He shifted his glance toward Lola Winslow, thinking that if things were different, he could have her “taken care of.” But he knew that was impossible, so he began sifting through ways to get clear of the problem.
    When Ketchel came through the door, Carmody said, “This is Mrs. Winslow. Her husband is vice-president of the UnionPacific Railroad—and chairman of the Democratic National Committee.”
    Ketchel was a shrewd man. He understood the message at once: This woman is important! “I’m glad to meet you, Mrs. Winslow.”
    “Mrs. Winslow, tell Studs what you just told me.”
    Studs turned to listen, at a loss as to what the woman could want to tell him; but with her first sentence, his highly developed sense of self-preservation began to function. He had always felt uneasy about the Adams robbery, and now it was rising from its grave.
    Lola said briefly, “You hired a man named Legs Manti to hold up the Adams jewelry store, and you hired my son to help him. It was Manti who shot that jeweler, not my son. I intend to see that Manti goes to jail and my son is set free.”
    Ketchel froze, his jaw slack. “Mrs. Winslow—I—I had nothing to do with it,” he stammered.
    “You’ll have your chance to prove that in court, Ketchel,” she said, then rose to her feet, addressing Carmody, “I’m going to step out of the office. I’ll give you men five minutes. If you can come up with a plan to get my son out of jail and save yourselves, I’ll listen. If not, we will have to go to court.”
    When the door closed, Ketchel stared at Carmody, saying in a strained voice, “Dan! What’s going on?”
    “I’ll tell you