“Nonsense!” interrupted the old lady.  “I know the relative importance of officials.  A mere understrapper like Craig is of no importance.”

“The fact is,” said Branch with great reluctance, “the President has taken a fancy to Craig.”

Branch said it as if he hardly expected to be believed—­and he wasn’t.  “To be perfectly frank,” he went on, “you know the President, how easily alarmed he is.  He’s afraid Craig may, by some crazy turn of this crazy game of politics, develop into a Presidential possibility.  Of course, it’s quite absurd, but—­”

“The more reason for getting rid of him.”

“The contrary.  The President probably reasons that, if Craig has any element of danger in him the nearer he keeps him to himself the better.  Craig, back in the West, would be free to grow.  Here the President can keep him down if necessary.  And I think our friend Stillwater will succeed in entangling him disastrously in some case sooner or later.”  There Branch laughed pleasantly, as at the finding of the correct solution to a puzzling problem in analytics or calculus.

“What a cowardly, shadow-fighting, shadow-dodging set you men are!” commented Madam Bowker.  Though she did not show it, as a man certainly would, her brain was busy with a wholly different phase of the matter they were discussing.

“Isn’t Stillwater going to retire?” she asked presently.

Branch startled.  “Where did you hear that?” he demanded.

The old lady smiled.  “There are no secrets in Washington,” said she.  “Who will be his successor?”

Branch’s cold face showed annoyance.  “You mustn’t speak of it,” replied he, “but the President is actually thinking of appointing Craig—­in case the vacancy should occur.  Of course, I am trying to make him see the folly of such a proceeding, but—­You are right.  Men are cowards.  That insufferable upstart is actually bullying the President into a state of terror.  Already he has compelled him to prosecute some of our best friends out in the Western country, and if the Courts weren’t with us—­” Branch checked himself abruptly.  It was not the first time he had caught himself yielding to Washington’s insidious custom of rank gossip about everything and everybody; but it was about his worst offense in that direction.  “I’m getting to be as leaky as Josh Craig is—­as he seems to be,” he muttered, so low, however, that not even her sharp ears caught it.

“So it is to be Attorney-General Craig,” said the old lady, apparently abstracted but in reality catlike in watchfulness, and noting with secret pleasure Branch’s anger at this explicit statement of the triumph of his hated rival.

“Isn’t it frightful?” said Branch.  “What is the country coming to?”