King Cole Read Online Free

all, declare openly for Fielding. I’m going to threaten martial law if there is a general strike or any important strikes during or before the election.”
    Gregg stared at the Governor for a long time.
    “I see.”
    “The farmers won’t like the hookup at all. They’ll bolt to me. They’re good Americans at heart, not radicals at all.”
    “This all sounds very suspicious to me. This is Fascism, you know.”
    “I don’t know what it is. But it would be a great calamity for the State if Eagle Beak got into the State House. I’m going to stop him.”
    Gregg studied the Governor, as if he were a stranger. He saw the calm gray eyes, the massive determined chin; there was set purpose apparent in all the lines of his face. Gregg shrugged.
    “Do you really want my advice?”
    “Yes.”
    “There are hungry men in this State.”
    “I don’t understand.”
    “This isn’t just an ordinary election. This is nearly a revolution. Old Eagle Beak wouldn’t have a chance in normal times.”
    “Precisely.”
    “I see. A counterrevolution. Read Cole, the liberal.”
    Read lowered his eyes and stared at the shining white tablecloth. He was a little shaken. Things did sound bad, as Gregg put them.
    “I hope,” said Gregg, “that behind that worldly exterior you’re not hiding a man with a mission. I hope you’re just trying to get yourself elected like any ordinary politico. Sometimes I feel pretty sure that I don’t know anything at all about you.”
    “Why did you say that there are hungry men in this State?”
    “That’s simple. Think how disappointed some of the boys are going to feel if you beat Fielding with strong-arm methods. You’ve been shot at. In France. How do you like it?”
    “I’ve been shot. I’m not going to worry about that.”
    “Well, Hitler, best of luck.”
    Read flushed.
    “Don’t say that.”
    Gregg reached across the table and they shook hands.
    “I’m your friend,” said Gregg. “I’m beginning to realize that you’re just a narrow-minded, bigoted, stuffed-shirt American, but I’m your friend. Let’s go. It’s getting late, and I’ve got tripe to write.”
    They got up and crossed the long dining-room side by side silently. Suddenly, Read looked up. The check-girl! He’d forgotten all about her. There she was smiling, showing her pretty, white teeth; looking provocative and young and lovely. She had the Governor’s coat and hat ready for him. Her manner was entirely different. She looked at him with round respectful eyes. “She is charming and a damn little fool,” Read told himself, glancing away.
    She helped him on with his coat.
    “Imagine me not recognizing you, Governor,” she said in her rather husky, coaxing voice. “Gee, you’d think anybody would have more sense than that.”
    Read said nothing. He tipped her fifty cents. The girl said:
    “Excuse me, Governor; but would you please give me your autograph? I got a little brother who…”
    “Some other time,” said Read, turning away.
    “Here, here,” said Gregg, clapping his hands. “A little service, please. After all, I’m the Governor’s
    best friend. Would you like to get better acquainted with the Governor’s best friend, my dear?”
    The girl got Gregg’s hat and coat.
    “Well, I…” she said.
    Gregg laughed and tipped her; then he and Read started across the long lobby.
    “Goodbye, Governor,” said the check-girl.
    Read nodded without turning.
    “Looks as if you’ve made a hit, Governor,” said Gregg with a laugh. “I think it was mighty mean of you not to give her an autograph. After all, she’s pretty hot stuff.”
    “Don’t be vulgar.” Read was extremely irritated and upset, and held himself in by an effort. He wanted violently to bawl Gregg out. He hated his glibness, his easy assurance with women. He also envied him.
    “I’ll keep her in mind for future reference,” said Gregg meditatively.
    Read snorted.
    “Gregg, I wish you’d be a