Peter wrote diligently.

“And we know who’s back of it.  It was all pie down to that dinner of yours.”

“Is that Maguire’s message?” asked Peter, though with no cessation of his labors.

“Nop,” said the man.  “That’s the introduction.  Now, we know what it means.  You needn’t deny it.  You’re squinting at the governorship yourself.  And you’ve made the rest go back on Maguire, and work for you on the quiet.  Oh, we know what’s going on.”

“Tell me when you begin on the message,” said Peter, still writing.

“Maguire’s sent me to you, to tell you to back water.  To stop bucking.”

“Tell Mr. Maguire I have received his message.”

“Oh, that isn’t all, and don’t you forget it!  Maguire’s in this for fur and feathers, and if you go before the convention as a candidate, we’ll fill the air with them.”

“Is that part of the message?” asked Peter.

“By that we mean that half an hour after you accept the nomination, we’ll have a force of detectives at work on your past life, and we’ll hunt down and expose every discreditable thing you’ve ever done.”

Peter rose, and the man did the same instantly, putting one of his hands on his hip-pocket.  But even before he did it, Peter had begun speaking, in a quiet, self-contained voice:  “That sounds so like Mr. Maguire, that I think we have the message at last.  Go to him, and say that I have received his message.  That I know him, and I know his methods.  That I understand his hopes of driving me, as he has some, from his path, by threats of private scandal.  That, judging others by himself, he believes no man’s life can bear probing.  Tell him that he has misjudged for once.  Tell him that he has himself decided me in my determination to accept the nomination.  That rather than see him the nominee of the Democratic party, I will take it myself.  Tell him to set on his blood-hounds.  They are welcome to all they can unearth in my life.”

Peter turned towards his door, intending to leave the room, for he was not quite sure that he could sustain this altitude, if he saw more of the man.  But as his hand was on the knob, Curlew spoke again.

“One moment,” he called.  “We’ve got something more to say to you.  We have proof already.”

Peter turned, with an amused look on his face.  “I was wondering,” he said, “if Maguire really expected to drive me with such vague threats.”

“No siree,” said Curlew with a self-assured manner, but at the same time putting Peter’s desk between the clerk and himself, so that his flank could not be turned.  “We’ve got some evidence that won’t be sweet reading for you, and we’re going to print it, if you take the nomination.”

“Tell Mr. Maguire he had better put his evidence in print at once.  That I shall take the nomination.”

“And disgrace one of your best friends?” asked Curlew.

Peter started slightly, and looked sharply at the man.