“Good heavens, no!” He looked as if Thornton had asked if she was a prostitute. “I’m proud to say she’s an Anti.”
“A what?”
“She’s anti–women’s suffrage. In fact, she’s very active in the National Association Opposed to Woman Suffrage.”
Which left very little chance she’d been arrested with Betty Perkins yesterday. “An excellent cause. Heaven help us if we have to start buying women’s votes, too.”
Wadsworth nearly spilled his coffee. “Mr. Thornton, really—”
“These friends of yours in New York, are they involved in procurement for the army?”
Wadsworth needed a moment to catch up to the change in topic. “They are dipping their toes in the water, so to speak, and since you would like to supply the army, you would have much to discuss.”
“I want to do more than discuss, Senator.”
“Of course you do.”
“And I’m prepared to pay a finder’s fee for your help, of course.”
“Oh, that isn’t necessary. I’m just anxious to help a constituent,” Wadsworth said expansively, which meant the senator got his cut from his friends. “What exactly is it you want to sell to the army?”
“Guns. Rifles, to be specific.”
Wadsworth blinked. “Well . . . that’s certainly something the army can use.”
“Yes, it is, and I can supply them very reasonably.” Wadsworth didn’t need to know where the rifles had come from or why Thornton had gotten them so cheaply.
“I’m sure many people would like to sell rifles to the army.”
“That’s true, Senator. The government has lots of money to spend on this war, and anytime the government has lots of money to spend, lots of people are going to want it. Somebody is going to get rich in the bargain, and I figure it might as well be me . . . and you.”
“I see.”
“I’m sure you do, Senator. All I need from you is a letter of introduction. I’ll take care of the rest, and your friends will be very happy they met me.”
Wadsworth didn’t look too happy to have met him, but Thornton wasn’t worried about that. “Of course. If you stop by my office tomorrow, the letter will be waiting for you. I’m always happy to serve a constituent.”
“And just so I know, who is it you’ll be introducing me to?”
“I . . . uh . . . Well, various people are . . . Things are so uncertain now, you see, and . . .”
Thornton leaned forward. “Who?”
“Uh, well, I believe I know just the gentleman who can see that you make the right contacts.”
“His name, Senator?”
“David Vanderslice.”
CHAPTER FOUR
Gideon Bates went right from the train station to the Woman’s Party headquarters on Capitol Hill. The house Mrs. Belmont had bought for the party to use as their headquarters was humming with activity when he arrived, and for a moment, he stood unnoticed in the foyer.
Finally, a young woman in a wrinkled shirtwaist peered at him with some alarm through her spectacles. “Who are you?”
Gideon gave her what he hoped was a nonthreatening smile. He certainly didn’t want to alarm anyone. “I’m Gideon Bates. My mother was one of the ladies arrested yesterday. I’m also an attorney, so I’ve come down from New York to see if I can help.”
The young woman blinked a few times. “Oh, yes, someone said you might be coming.”
“And now I’m here.” Gideon waited, somehow managing to hold his smile in place even when she made no move to announce him. He wouldn’t inspire much confidence if he shouted at her. Or started turning over desks, which suddenly seemed like an excellent way to vent his growing frustration. Instead he said, “I’m very anxious to help. Do you suppose I could speak to someone?”
She was still blinking. “What? Oh. Oh, yes. You’ll want to see Mrs. Stevens, I suppose.”
At last! “Is she the one in charge now?”
“Yes.”
Gideon waited, trying not to think about doing violence to the furniture, and when she didn’t move, he said, still smiling although his face now felt more than a bit stiff, “May I see her?”
“Oh my, of course. Just a . . . I’ll be right back.” She hurried off. Finally.
Gideon set down the carpetbag he’d hastily packed back in New York and rubbed the stiffness from his neck. He noticed he was attracting some suspicious glances from the women working in the front room, so he smiled at them, too. They didn’t smile back. They had a right to be suspicious of strange men showing up on the doorstep, of course.
The young woman who had greeted him returned. “Mrs. Stevens would like to see you. Follow me, please.”
He followed her to the back of the house, where a room that might have once been a butler’s pantry had been fitted out into a private office of sorts with mismatched furniture, clearly cast-off odds and ends. A plump, middle-aged woman, looking as if she hadn’t slept last night, came from behind the desk and offered her hand. She had a grip like a federal judge. “Thank you for coming, Mr. Bates, but I’m hoping we won’t need your help.”
“Does that mean they’ve been released?”
“Please, sit down.” She removed a pile of papers from one of the rickety chairs and set it on the floor, then took her seat behind the desk again. “I’m afraid they haven’t been released yet—at least not that we know of—but our attorney, Mr. O’Brien, has gone down to Virginia to meet with the authorities there and ascertain the conditions under which the women are being held.”
“Virginia? I thought they were arrested here in the district.”
“I guess you haven’t heard the latest news.”
“I haven’t heard any news at all since the telephone call I received this morning. At that time, you didn’t even know where the prisoners were being held.”
“Yes, well, since then we’ve learned that the women who were arrested yesterday were taken by train to Virginia, where they are being held in the Occoquan Workhouse.”
“A workhouse?” This was worse than he could have imagined.
“That’s right, and others have been held there before. It’s a horrible place, Mr. Bates, filthy and cold and the food is rancid and full of worms.”
“Then we’ve got to get them out of there. You say you have an attorney already working to free them?”