“A public man cannot afford private vices.”

“I know that now,” replied Enoch.  “You may have my resignation whenever you wish it.  I think it probable that I’ll never touch a card again.  But I dare not promise.”

“I’m told,” said the Chief Executive drily, “that you were not without good company in Blank Street; that a certain famous person from the British Legation, a certain Admiral of our own navy and an Italian prince contributed their share to the entertainment.”

Enoch flushed slightly, but did not speak.

“I don’t want your resignation, Huntingdon.  It’s a most unfortunate affair, but we cannot afford to lose you.  Brown is a whelp, also he’s a power that must be reckoned with.  That article turned Washington over for a while.  The talk has quieted now.  It was the gambling that the populace rolled under its tongue.  Only he and the scandal mongers like Brown gave any but a pitying glance at the other story.  The fears that I have about the affair are first as to its reaction on you and second as to the sort of capital the opposite party will make of it.  I think you let it hit you too hard, Huntingdon.”

Enoch lifted sad eyes to the chief executive.  His lips were painfully compressed and the President said, huskily: 

“I know, my boy!  I sensed long ago that you were a man who had drunk of a bitter cup.  I wish I could have helped you bear it!” There was silence for a moment, then the President went on: 

“What are you going to do to Brown, Huntingdon?”

“I haven’t decided yet,” replied Enoch slowly.  “But I shall not let him go unpunished.”

The President shook his head and sighed.  “You must feel that way, of course, but before we talk about that let’s review the political situation.  I’m ending my second term.  For years, as you know, a large portion of the party has had its eye on you to succeed me.  In fact, as the head of the party, I may modestly claim to have been your first endorser!  Long ago I recognized the fact that unless youth and virility and sane idealism were injected into the old machine, it would fall apart and radicalism would take its place.”

“Or Tammanyism!” interjected Enoch.

“They are equally menacing in my mind,” said the older man.  “As you know, too, Huntingdon, there has been a quiet but very active minority very much against you.  They have spent years trying to get something on you, and they’ve never succeeded.  But—­well, you understand mob psychology better than I do—­if Brown evolves a slogan, a clever phrase, built about your gambling propensities, it will damn you far more effectively than if he had proved that you played crooked politics or did something really harmful to the country.”

Enoch nodded.  “Whom do you think Brown is for, Mr. President?”

“Has it ever occurred to you that Brown often picks up Fowler’s policies and quietly pushes them?”