Next he led the wires under the carpet to Miss Ashton’s desk.  There they ended, under the carpet and a rug, eighteen or twenty huge coils several feet in diameter disposed in such a way as to attract no attention by a curious foot on the carpet which covered them.

“That is all, Miss Ashton,” he said as we watched for his next move.  “I shall want to see you early to-morrow, and,—­might I ask you to be sure to wear that hat which you have on?”

It was a very becoming hat, but Kennedy’s tone clearly indicated that it was not his taste in inverted basket millinery that prompted the request.  She promised, smiling, for even a suffragette may like pretty hats.

Craig had still to see Travis and report on his work.  The candidate was waiting anxiously at his hotel after a big political mass meeting on the East Side, at which capitalism and the bosses had been hissed to the echo, if that is possible.

“What success?” inquired Travis eagerly.

“I’m afraid,” replied Kennedy, and the candidate’s face fell at the tone, “I’m afraid you will have to meet them, for the present.  The time limit will expire to-morrow, and I understand Hanford is coming up for a final answer.  We must have copies of those photographs, even if we have to pay for them.  There seems to be no other way.”

Travis sank back in his chair and regarded Kennedy hopelessly.  He was actually pale.  “You—­you don’t mean to say that there is no other way, that I’ll have to admit even before Bennett—­and others that I’m in bad?”

“I wouldn’t put it that way,” said Kennedy mercilessly, I thought.

“It is that way,” Travis asserted almost fiercely.  “Why, we could have done that anyhow.  No, no,—­I don’t mean that.  Pardon me.  I’m upset by this.  Go ahead,” he sighed.

“You will direct Bennett to make the best terms he can with Hanford when he comes up to-morrow.  Have him arrange the details of payment and then rush the best copies of the photographs to me.”

Travis seemed crushed.

We met Miss Ashton the following morning entering her office.  Kennedy handed her a package, and in a few words, which I did not hear, explained what he wanted, promising to call again later.

When we called, the girls and other clerks had arrived, and the office was a hive of industry in the rush of winding up the campaign.  Typewriters were clicking, clippings were being snipped out of a huge stack of newspapers and pasted into large scrap-books, circulars were being folded and made ready to mail for the final appeal.  The room was indeed crowded, and I felt that there was no doubt, as Kennedy had said, that nothing much could go on there unobserved by any one to whose interest it was to see it.

Miss Ashton was sitting at her desk with her hat on directing the work.  “It works,” she remarked enigmatically to Kennedy.

“Good,” he replied.  “I merely dropped in to be sure.  Now if anything of interest happens, Miss Ashton, I wish you would let me know immediately.  I must not be seen up here, but I shall be waiting downstairs in the corridor of the building.  My next move depends entirely on what you have to report.”