Galt, stopping behind a stout man with sandy hair, tapped him carelessly on the shoulder.

“Eh, Major?” he exclaimed.

The major turned, presenting a florid, hairy face, with small, shrewd eyes and an unpleasant mouth.  His name was Rann, and he was the most important figure in the Senate.  It was said of him that he had never made a speech in his life, but that he was continually speaking through the mouths of others.  He could command more votes in both branches than any member of the Assembly, but his ambition was confined to the leadership of the men about him; he had been in the State Senate fifteen years, and he had never tried to climb higher, though it was reported that he had sent a United States senator to Washington.

“Ah, we’ll see you oftener among us now,” he said as he wheeled round, holding out a huge red hand, “since your friend sits above.”  He laughed, with a motion towards the ceiling, signifying the direction of the governor’s office.  “By the way, I was sorry about that bill you were interested in,” he went on; “upon my word I was—­but we’re skittish just now on the subject of corporations.  Charters are dangerous things—­you can’t tell where they’re leading you, eh?—­but, on my word, I was sorry.”

“So was I,” responded Galt with peculiar dryness—­adding, with the frankness for which he was liked and hated, “I’d been dining that committee for weeks.  Seven of them swore to back me through, and the eighth man said he’d go as the others went.  My mind was so easy I lost sight of them for six hours, and every man John of them voted against the bill.  I believe you got in a little work in those six hours.”

Rann laughed and lowered one puffy eyelid in a blandly unembarrassed wink.  “Oh, we don’t like corporations,” he replied, “I think I remarked as much.  How-de-do, Colonel?  Where’d you dine last night?  Missed you at table.”

The colonel was Diggs, and, after a curt nod in his direction, Galt pushed his way through the lobbyists and glanced into the House of Delegates, where an animated discussion of an oyster bill was in progress.

Owing to the absolute supremacy of the Democrats, the body presented the effect of a party caucus rather than a legislative branch of opposing elements.  The few Republicans and Populists were lost in the ruling faction.

Galt was nodding here and there to members who recognised him, when his arm was touched by a lank countryman who was standing near.

“Eh?” he inquired absently.

“I jest axed you if you reckoned we paid that gentleman over yonder for talking that gosh about oyschers?”

Galt bowed.  “Why, I suppose so,” he responded gravely.  “It’s a good day’s work.  Am I to presume that you are not interested in oysters?”

“An’ he gits fo’ dollars a day for saying them things,” commented the other shortly.  “I tell you ‘tain’t wo’th fo’ cents, suh.”

He lifted his bony hand and gave a tug at his scraggy beard.  In a moment he spoke again.