Then, scarcely pausing for breath, Waddell said, “I move we add the illustrious names of Hugh MacRae and John Allan Taylor to our new board.” He’d already worked it out with MacRae—part of their new relationship. They were approved by acclamation.

MacRae said immediately, “And I nominate for the office of mayor the man whose leadership has inspired us all—Colonel Alfred Moore Waddell.” Taylor seconded, and Waddell, too, was approved by acclamation.

Rountree was stunned: so that was what Waddell had been after all along.

Waddell proclaimed, “We shall now adjourn to the chamber to be sworn in. Hugh, see if you can’t round up the old board.”

MacRae said, “Colonel, it’s happening as we speak.”

In a body, they marched out of the room. Solomon Fishblate was waiting in the hall. “Figured you’d be here,” he whispered to Waddell. “When you didn’t call. Where are we in the process?”

J. Allan Taylor bumped him out of the way, “Solly, allow me to present our new mayor.”

Fishblate glared at Waddell. “You? You?”

Waddell patted him on the shoulder and smiled confidentially. “Solomon, events are proceeding very rapidly. One cannot always predict.”

Then, in a rush of coats and guards, he swept into the chamber. Silas Wright and the old board, except for Benjamin Keith and Morrill, were waiting. Wright had already secured a letter of resignation from Morrill. They’d pick up Keith any minute.

One by one, in strict observance of the law, the aldermen resigned. After each stepped down, a name from Waddell’s list was placed in nomination, and the board—gradually changing from Fusionist to Democratic—voted him in. Even the police chief resigned.

Finally, Dr. Wright resigned, and Colonel Alfred Moore Waddell, C.S.A., retired, became mayor of Wilmington.

Waddell smacked his hands together—it had all worked out perfectly. Once again, he was in command. “All that’s left is the swearing in,” he said. “Let’s get a judge in here.” Somebody went to fetch one.

“Just a minute, Colonel,” MacRae said. He put an arm on J. Allan Taylor’s shoulder. “John and I are going to forgo the ceremony for the present. We’ll take up our offices first thing Monday morning.”

Waddell was momentarily flummoxed. “But why?” Something was cooking—he’d thought they’d let him in on all of it. But he should have known. With MacRae, there was always one more item on the agenda.

“Unfinished business,” Taylor said. “Nothing that concerns the board.”

“Right,” Waddell said. “Well. If there are no objections?” What were they up to? Whatever it was, they clearly didn’t want to be encumbered with the legalities of office.

While he was pondering, a justice of the peace arrived with a Bible, and, as they all raised their right hands, MacRae and Taylor slipped out.