“Can they get Schlurger or Kennedy?”

“Schlurger is safe.  I don’t know about Kennedy.”

“Can you find out for us?”

“Yes.  When would you like to know?”

“Can you see him now?  I’ll wait here.”

Peter rose, looking at his cigar with a suggestion of regret.  But he rubbed out the light, and left the room.  At the office, he learned the number of Kennedy’s room, and went to it.  On knocking, the door was opened only a narrow crack.

“Oh! it’s you,” said Kennedy.  “Come in.”

Peter entered, and found Maguire seated in an easy attitude on a lounge.  He noticed that his thumbs were once more tucked into his waistcoat.

“Mr. Kennedy,” said Peter without seating himself, “there is an attempt being made to get a city delegate to nominate Porter.  It seems to me that is his particular friends’ business.”

Maguire spoke so quickly that Kennedy had no chance to reply:  “Kennedy’s promised to nominate him, Mr. Stirling, if you won’t.”

“Do you feel that you are bound to do it?” asked Peter.

Kennedy moved uneasily in his chair.  “Yes, I suppose I have promised.”

“Will you release Mr. Kennedy from his promise if he asks it?” Peter queried to Maguire.

“Why, Mr. Stirling, I don’t think either he or you ought to ask it.”

“That was not my question.”

It was the Senator’s turn to squirm.  He did not want to say no, for fear of angering Peter, yet he did not like to surrender the advantage.  Finally he said:  “Yes, I’ll release him, but Mr. Kennedy isn’t the kind of a man that cries off from a promise.  That’s women’s work.”

“No,” said Kennedy stiffening suddenly in backbone, as he saw the outlet opened by Maguire, between antagonizing Peter, and retracting his consent.  “I don’t play baby.  Not me.”

Peter stood thinking for a longer time than the others found comfortable.  Maguire whistled to prove that he was quite at ease, but he would not have whistled if he had been.

“I think, Mr. Kennedy, that I’ll save you from the difficulty by nominating Mr. Porter myself,” said Peter finally.

“Good!” said Maguire; and Kennedy, reaching down into his hip pocket, produced a version of the holy text not yet included in any bibliography.  Evidently the atmosphere was easier.  “About your speech, Mr. Stirling?” continued the Senator.

“I shall say what I think right.”

Something in Peter’s voice made Maguire say:  “It will be of the usual kind, of course?”

“I don’t know,” said Peter, “I shall tell the facts.”

“What sort of facts?”

“I shall tell how it is that a delegate of the sixth ward nominates Porter.”

“And that is?”

“I don’t see,” said Peter, “why I need say it.  You know it as well as I do.”

“I know of many reasons why you should do it.”

“No,” said Peter.  “There’s only one, and that has been created in the last ten minutes.  Mr. Maguire, if you insist on the sixth ward nominating Mr. Porter, the sixth ward is going to tell why it does so.  I’m sorry, for I like Porter, but the sixth ward shan’t lend itself to a fraud, if I can help it.”