CHAPTER XLVL
A THREATENING NOTICE.
Stanley Lake was not a man to let the grass grow
under his feet when an object was to be gained. It was
with a sure prescience that Mark Wylder's letter had in-
ferred that Stanley Lake would aspire to the representa-
tion either of the county or of the borough of Dolling-
ton. His mind was already full of these projects.
All the data, except the muster-roll of electors, were
in nubibus — who would retire — who would step for-
ward, as yet altogether in the region of conjecture. There
are men to whom the business of elections — a life of se-
cresy, excitement, speculation, and combat — has all but
irresistible charms; and Tom Wealdon, the Town Clerk,
was such a spirit.
A bold, frank, good-humored fellow — he played at
elections as he would at cricket. Every faculty of eye, hand,
and thought — his whole heart and soul in the game.
But no ill-will — no malevolence in victory — no sourness
in defeat. A successful coup made Tom Wealdon split
with laughing. He did not show much; his official sta-
tion precluded prominence. He kept in the background,
and did his spiriting gently. But Tom Wealdon, it was
known — as things are known without evidence — was at
the bottom of all the clever dodges, and long-headed ma-
noeuvres. When, therefore, Mr. Larkin heard from the
portly and veracious Mr. Larcom, who was on very happy
relations with the proprietor of the Lodge, that Tom Weal-