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dead and one to be hanged. Is that what you
thought you were up to?”
    “How did you find out about it?” Macy
asked.
    “Your clerk got to boastin’ about it in the
pub last night, too close to one of my snitches. And lucky fer you
he did.”
    “You wouldn’t understand,” Trueman said.
“You’re not a gentleman.”
    “And damn glad I ain’t,” Cobb said, ushering
the gentlemen off the cricket grounds.
    ***
    When they reached Queen Street, Trueman and Macy
found themselves walking side by side.
    “That was a close call,” Macy said.
    “Cobb was probably right. One of us would
have been dead and the other a candidate for the gallows,” Trueman
said.
    “Leaving the lady with neither of us,” Macy
said.
    “And she is seeing both of us, isn’t
she?”
    “I thought her intentions were all on my
side.”
    “I thought the same. She led me to believe
so.” Trueman stopped walking.
    “She is leading both of us on, isn’t she?”
Macy said.
    “I believe so.”
    “And who’s to say there are not others we
know nothing of?”
    “You could be right. Have we both been
fools?”
    “We’ve both been fools,” Macy said
bitterly.
    “She almost got us killed,” Trueman said.
    “Is it just a game with her?”
    “Are we nothing but her pawns?”
    “The woman has no conscience.”
    “She’s using her money and standing in the
community to make fools of men.”
    “Somebody ought to put a stop to her little
games.”
    “Yes, and quickly.”
    “Well, I’m through with her,” Macy said
emphatically. “Money or no money.”
    Trueman nodded his agreement, and the two men
continued walking together, who just moments before had been
prepared to shoot one another.
    ***
    The hustings, as usual, had been erected in front of
Danby’s Inn, the area as a whole known as Danby’s Crossing. It was
a mile north of the city and a quarter mile east of Yonge Street.
The inn was an elaborate two-storey affair with a wide verandah in
front. Completing the square were a general store and livery
stables opposite Danby’s, and on the eastern side a smithy and a
harness-maker. The inn boasted an elegant foyer and a bustling
tavern.
    While Louis Fontaine, Gilles Gagnon, Francis
Hincks and Robert Baldwin rode up to the crossing in a brougham,
Marc came along behind on a sturdy mount he had hired from Frank’s
Livery in Toronto. Just in case there was any trouble, he wanted to
be mobile. Not that they were expecting any, since they had
received assurances from Humphrey Cardiff that all would be
peaceful. Besides, the nomination meeting included the candidates
from both the Reform and Conservative parties, and the crowd
therefore would contain supporters from both sides. It was in
everybody’s interest to have an orderly set of nominations. The
meeting was to start at two o’clock.
    It was just after one when the brougham drew
up to the hitching-post in front of Danby’s Inn. Already the space
before the hustings was beginning to fill up. People, farmers and
their wives mostly, had driven, ridden or walked many miles through
the bush to be here. Not all of them would be voters – certainly
not the women – but all were interested in what the various
speakers would have to say. These were tumultuous times in the
history of the province. An armed revolt had taken place not four
years before – over deeply set grievances that could not be
addressed under a system of government where all the power lay with
the governor and his appointed minions. The Rebellion, here and in
Quebec as well, had settled little definitively, except to prompt
the British government to experiment with some fundamental changes
to its fractious colony. These included uniting the two provinces
into one (or two halves) with a single Parliament. The grievances
had not yet been dealt with, and responsible, cabinet government
had only been partly achieved. Moreover, it remained to be seen
whether these grievances – the Clergy Reserves question, the