Tom Miller said, “We’re giving in. At least admit it.”

Jacobs continued, “ ‘Neither are we authorized to act for him in this matter, but, in the interest of peace, we will most willingly use our influence to have your wishes carried out. Very respectfully,’ etcetera.”

“Fine,” Henderson said. “That ought to smooth their feathers.” He handed Jacobs an envelope, and Jacobs addressed it to the Honorable Alfred M. Waddell, 16 North Fifth Street, City. At Norwood’s insistence, he added, “Please deliver at House.”

He sealed the envelope and handed it back to Henderson, who held it up like a prize. “Now, who’s going to deliver it?”

“Give it to me,” Tom Miller said. “I’ll deliver it on the end of a brick!”

Some of the men laughed.

Norwood said, “I suggest a delegation of three—Jacobs, Henderson, and myself. Let them see we have a united leadership.”

Carter Peamon, who had been a precinct boss and had held various minor county posts, said, “That’s exactly the wrong thing to do. We don’t want to go making this thing out to be too important.”

“He’s right,” Henderson agreed. “We’ve got to salvage some pride out of this.”

“Right,” Jacobs said. “You see President McKinley delivering his own mail?”

“Who wants to be our envoy?” Henderson said.

Ivanhoe Grant stepped forward.

“Not you,” Norwood started to protest.

“I’m exactly the wrong mailman,” Grant said, smiling to show all his teeth. Norwood could see he was mocking them, playing the sambo. “But I wish to nominate young Armond Scott here.” He had never met Scott before today, but the boy clearly thought Grant had hung the moon. Grant had been watching his face.

“Good idea,” someone said. “Send a lawyer. That’s how they do this kind of thing.”

Others murmured assent.

“What about it, Armond?” Henderson said.

They were all looking at him—he couldn’t very well say no. “Well, sure,” he said, without any certainty in his voice. “Sure, I’d be honored.”

Several men slapped him on the back and nudged him toward Henderson, who leaned down from his chair and handed Scott the letter. Scott carefully slipped it into the inside pocket of his coat.

“Gentlemen, we are adjourned,” Henderson said. “Leave here in twos and threes. Stay close to home, and don’t do anything stupid.” His last remark seemed to be addressed personally to Tom Miller, who spat and banged out the door ahead of the others, all by himself.

Within a few minutes, most of the men had scattered, hurrying in little knots up Dock Street, away from the river, their hats jammed low over their ears in the twilight chill, their eyes nervously glancing over their shoulders in case they were being followed.

Henderson asked Norwood, “Why hasn’t the Board of Aldermen acted? What’s Mayor Wright doing?”