Mr. Everett did not deny.  It was too intimate a gathering for that.

“This is not the way I’d like to be called to the Governor’s chair of my State,” went on the General, “but it’s the way of politics.  I’ve got to meet you on the politician’s level, so far as securing the nomination goes.  But I stand here and tell you, Mr. Everett”—­he took two steps forward and stood close to the other candidate, and his voice rose—­“that I can be a better Governor of this State than you—­in the sort of days that are on us now.  This is not egotism—­it’s truth.  I say it because I know you and the men behind you as well as I know myself.”

“It’s a sneak trick, just the same!” shouted Everett.

“So are many tricks in politics—­and, God help me, I’m back in politics!” returned the General.  He looked them over there in the room, from face to face and eye to eye.  “You cannot accuse me of vanity, self-seeking, or ambition at my age, gentlemen.  I’ve been Governor of this State once.  I didn’t enjoy the experience.  I’m going into this thing again simply because I believe that I can put some honesty into public affairs.  This State is calling for it.  And that object justifies me in what I’m doing.  I am a candidate!”

“By ——!” roared Everett, furious, realizing how this candidacy threatened his hopes, “run if you want to.  But I’ll see to it that these delegates know how you’re running—­cutting under a man that’s made an honest canvass!” He started for the door, tossing his arms above his head—­a politician beginning to run amuck.

Presson grabbed his arm and held him back.

“Don’t be a lunatic, Dave,” he buzzed in his ear.  “If you go to advertising this around the hotel to-night you’ll be giving Spinney the tip and starting Waymouth’s boom for him.  Damn it, you want to keep your teeth shut tight and your tongue behind them!  There’ll be no blabbers go out of this room—­I’ll see to that!  I’ll put a dozen members of the State Committee at work on the delegates to-night.”  He was walking Everett toward the door, getting him out of earshot of the others.  “Weymouth has got a platform there that sounds as though it was drawn up by the House Committee of Paradise.  He’s got to be licked—­great Judas, he’s got to be licked!  I’ve got five thousand that the liquor crowd has sent into the State for the campaign, but this is the place to use it—­right here now!  And it’ll be used.  Don’t you worry, Dave!  And keep your mouth shut!”

It was a colloquy that no one else in the room heard—­Everett putting in suggestions as the chairman whispered hoarsely in his ear.  Harlan Thornton, looking on, guessed what it might be.  Linton, at his side, ironically hinted at the possibilities of that hurried conference in the corner.  Senator Pownal walked about the room, chewing his short beard and incapable of a word—­for his re-election came before the next legislature, and to jump the wrong way now in the gubernatorial matter was political suicide.