Harlan was one of the first to escape from the House through the press of women.  There were too many of them.  Officious gentlemen had begun to introduce him to wives and daughters and friends.  He was not shy, but the presence of so many women—­chattering, vivacious, exchanging repartee, challenging retort from him, was disquieting.  He made his way to his committee-room.  It was in a far corner of the building and was quiet.  He had not been able to inspect the bill that Governor Waymouth had placed in his hands.  He determined to put behind himself for a time the presence of women and the thoughts of women—­even those thoughts which had so occupied him the night before.

There was no one in the committee-room.  The State House holiday had attracted his associates.  He examined the measure that he was expected to sponsor.

It provided for a commission of three men to be appointed by the Governor and to remain under his direct control—­a bipartisan board.  These men were to appoint special deputies to any number desired.  To any county, city, or town these deputies were to be dispatched when it became apparent that police or sheriffs were lax or dishonest in enforcing the prohibitory law.  No limits were placed on the number of these men empowered to kill saloons and put liquor-peddlers out of business.  No special amount of money was to be asked of the legislature—­the bill provided that the State treasury should stand behind the movement.

The young man was quick to understand the tremendous power granted to the Governor by that bill.  Under it no party management, no group of politicians, could club or coax the liquor interests into line at the polls by manipulation of the traffic.  No sheriff could enrich himself by selling privileges.  No city could govern itself in that respect—­declaring that public opinion favored the saloons and making local law superior to the constitutional law of the State.  The bill provided that a judge must impose both fines and imprisonment when convictions were secured, and, therefore, no judge could carry on any longer a practical system of low license by imposing fines alone.

It was the principle of enforced prohibition put on trial.

In the past the Luke Pressons of the State had laughed at interference by a Governor.  Local politics, easily handled, had controlled the actions of cities, and police had kept their hands off the traffic for years.

Authority in liquor matters had been vested in the county high sheriffs, and these men were controlled from State headquarters wholly in the interests of politics.

Harlan was sufficiently familiar with the old plan to know how this new system would upset the entire political machine of his State.  That folio of document was a bombshell.

He was holding it outspread in his hands when the door opened so suddenly that it startled him.  Thelismer Thornton came in, shaking his shoulders disgustedly.