“I’ll prosecute you for slander!” roared the candidate.  He hoped his defiance would be heard by those outside.

“You may do so, but I’ll give you here and now the facts that you’ll go up against.  That’s how sure I am of my ground!”

He shook papers at the man.

“Last night, or rather this morning at one o’clock, to be exact, you met Luke Presson and members of the State Committee, and for two thousand dollars, paid to you in one-hundred-dollar bills, you agreed to pull out.  The secret was to be kept until it should be time for the nominating speeches to be made on the floor of the convention to-day.  I have here affidavits signed by responsible parties who heard the entire transaction.”  It was accusation formal, couched in cold phrases, without passion.

Spinney started.  The perspiration began to stream down his face.  But in spite of the staggering blow the fight was not out of him.  He thought quickly, reassuring himself by the recollection that his bedroom door had been locked, and men were on guard in his parlor.  There could have been no eavesdroppers.  This must be a bluff.

“That’s a damnation lie!” he shouted.

“Don’t you bellow at me, sir!  I’m not trying to extort any confession.  But you’re wasting time, denying.  I’m sure of my ground, I repeat.  That’s why I’m talking now.  I’m an old man, and I was in politics in this State before you were born.  And there were tricks and tricksters in the old days.  And I knew them.  I played one of those tricks on you, sir, last night.  It’s the last one I hope I shall ever play, for tricks are to be taken out of the politics of this State.  The god of good chance lodged you in ‘Traitor’s Room,’ last night, Mr. Spinney.”

The man stared at him, frightened, not understanding.

“There’s a false door and a slide in the wall of that bedroom, Spinney, and the old politician who put it there years ago passed the knowledge on to me.  I’m willing every one should know it now.  When you go back I will have it shown to you.  It will convince you that these affidavits I hold in my hand are not guess-work.  These men in this room now—­for your own men brought me word that you were hiding from them—­made those affidavits.  Look at them, and deny—­deny once more, Spinney!”

But the candidate had no voice now.  He glanced furtively from face to face.

“Spinney,” one declared, bitterly, “we’ve got you dead to rights.  There ain’t any use in squirming.  We suspected you when you hid away from us, and General Waymouth put us in the way of finding out just who was with you.  You might as well give in.”

The General did not wait for Spinney to speak.  He was in no mood then for listening.  He was in command.  He was issuing orders.  The battle was on, and he was in the saddle.

“I propose to have your name go before the convention, Spinney.  You must walk out of this room and deny the rumors that are afloat.  I propose to have two of these men go with you and stay with you.  And if you deny half-heartedly, or if you attempt any more sneak tricks, or if your name is not put into nomination to-day, I’ll stand out and declare what is in these affidavits.  If you want to save yourself and the men who bribed you, obey my orders.”