“But this isn’t all.  I know a printer on the Times.  To-morrow the whole story about your accepting the senator’s offer will come out.  They hope the senator will be forced to change his plans.  They think the public will lose interest in your campaign.  Surprise is what the public needs.  I’ll tell you something else.  Morris, who died last week, had just sold out his interest in the Telegraph to McQuade.  This means that McQuade has the controlling interest in every newspaper in town.  I never heard of such a thing before; five newspapers, Democratic and Republican, owned by a Democratic boss.”

Warrington smoked thoughtfully.  This man McQuade was something out of the ordinary.  And he had defied him.

“I am very much obliged to you, Osborne.  If I win out, on my word of honor, I’ll do something for you.”

“You aren’t afraid of McQuade?” anxiously.

“My dear Mr. Osborne, I am not afraid of the Old Nick himself.  I’ll give this man McQuade the biggest fight he has ever had.  Bolles will have his pains for nothing.  Any scandal he can rake up about my past will be pure blackmail; and I know how to deal with that breed.”

“McQuade will try something else, then.  He’s sworn to stop you.  I’m glad you aren’t afraid of him.”

“I can’t thank you enough.”

“I wander about town a good deal; nobody pays much attention to me; so lots of things fall under my notice.  I’ll let you know what I hear.  You’ll find all the decent people on your side, surprise or no surprise.  They’re tired of McQuade and Donnelly; Some of these paving deals smell.  Well, I’m keeping you from your work.”  Bill rose.

“Help yourself to these cigars,” said Warrington gratefully, passing the box.

Bill took three.

“Good night, Richard.”

“Good night, Mr. Osborne.  If by any good luck I become mayor of Herculaneum, I’ll not forget your service to-night.”

“That’s all that’s necessary for me;” and Bill bowed himself out.  He layed his course for his familiar haunts.

Warrington turned to his work again.  But the news he had just received disturbed all connected thought, so he put the manuscript away.  So the first gun had been fired!  They had sent a man to hunt up his past in New York.  He looked back, searching this corner and that, but he could not recall anything that would serve McQuade’s purpose.  No man is totally free from folly.  True, there was a time when he drank, but he had stopped that idiocy nearly two years before.  This could not be tallied against him with effect.  And, thank God, there had been no women.  His gambling had been of the innocuous kind.  Well, let them hunt; much good it would do them.