“I believe you’re a partner of Theodore Watling’s now aren’t you?  Smart man, Watling.”

“He’ll make a good senator,” I replied, accepting the opening.

“You think he’ll get elected—­do you?” Mr. Jason inquired.

I laughed.

“Well, there isn’t much doubt about that, I imagine.”

“Don’t know—­don’t know.  Seen some dead-sure things go wrong in my time.”

“What’s going to defeat him?” I asked pleasantly.

“I don’t say anything,” Mr. Jason replied.  “But I’ve known funny things to happen—­never does to be dead sure.”

“Oh, well, we’re as sure as it’s humanly possible to be,” I declared.  The eyes continued to fascinate me, they had a peculiar, disquieting effect.  Now they died down, and it was as if the man’s very presence had gone out, as though I had been left alone; and I found it exceedingly difficult, under the circumstances, to continue to address him.  Suddenly he flared up again.

“Watling send you over here?” he demanded.

“No.  As a matter of fact, he’s out of town.  Some of Mr. Watling’s friends, Mr. Grunewald and Mr. Dickinson, Mr. Gorse and others, suggested that I see you, Mr. Jason.”

There came a grunt from the bed.

“Mr. Watling has always valued your friendship and support,” I said.

“What makes him think he ain’t going to get it?”

“He hasn’t a doubt of it,” I went on diplomatically.  “But we felt—­and I felt personally, that we ought to be in touch with you, to work along with you, to keep informed how things are going in the city.”

“What things?”

“Well—­there are one or two representatives, friends of yours, who haven’t come out for Mr. Watling.  We aren’t worrying, we know you’ll do the right thing, but we feel that it would have a good deal of influence in some other parts of the state if they declared themselves.  And then you know as well as I do that this isn’t a year when any of us can afford to recognize too closely party lines; the Democratic administration has brought on a panic, the business men in that party are down on it, and it ought to be rebuked.  And we feel, too, that some of the city’s Democrats ought to be loyal to Mr. Watling,—­not that we expect them to vote for him in caucus, but when it comes to the joint ballot—­”

“Who?” demanded Mr. Jason.

“Senator Dowse and Jim Maher, for instance,” I suggested.

“Jim voted for Bill 709 all right—­didn’t he?” said Mr. Jason abruptly.

“That’s just it,” I put in boldly.  “We’d like to induce him to come in with us this time.  But we feel that—­the inducement would better come through you.”