“Did you come up here with orders for me to get out?” he demanded, with some pardonable violence.  “By thunder, I didn’t think that of my old friend, Hilary Vane.  You ought to have known me better, and Flint ought to have known me better.  There ain’t a mite of use of our staying here another second, and you can go right back and tell Flint what I said.  Flint knows I’ve been waiting to be governor for eight years, and each year it’s been just a year ahead.  You ask him what he said to me when he sent for me to go to New York.  I thought he was a man of his word, and he promised me that I should be governor this year.”

The Honourable Hilary gave no indication of being moved by this righteous outburst.

“You can be governor next year, when this reform nonsense has blown over,” he said.  “You can’t be this year, even if you stay in the race.”

“Why not?” the Honourable Adam asked pugnaciously.

“Your record won’t stand it—­not just now,” said Mr. Vane, slowly.

“My record is just as good as yours, or any man’s,” said the Honourable Adam.

“I never run for office,” answered Mr. Vane.

“Haven’t I spent the days of my active life in the service of that road —­and is this my reward?  Haven’t I done what Flint wanted always?”

“That’s just the trouble,” said the Honourable Hilary; too many folks know it.  If we’re going to win this time, we’ve got to have a man who’s never had any Northeastern connections.”

“Who have you picked?” demanded the Honourable Adam, with alarming calmness.

“We haven’t picked anybody yet,” said Mr. Vane, “but the man who goes in will give you a cheque for what you’ve spent, and you can be governor next time.”

“Well, if this isn’t the d-dest, coldest-blooded proposition ever made, I want to know!” cried the Honourable Adam.  “Will Flint put up a bond of one hundred thousand dollars that I’ll be nominated and elected next year?  This is the clearest case of going back on an old friend I ever saw.  If this is the way you fellows get scared because a sham reformer gets up and hollers against the road, then I want to serve notice on you that I’m not made of that kind of stuff.  When I go into a fight, I go in to stay, and you can’t pull me out by the coat-tails in favour of a saint who’s never done a lick of work for the road.  You tell Flint that.”

“All right, Adam,” said Hilary.

Some note in Hilary’s voice, as he made this brief answer, suddenly sobered the Honourable Adam, and sent a cold chill down his spine.  He had had many dealings with Mr. Vane, and he had always been as putty in the chief counsel’s hands.  This simple acquiescence did more to convince the Honourable Adam that his chances of nomination were in real danger than a long and forceful summary of the situation could have accomplished.  But like many weak men, the Honourable Adam had a stubborn streak, and a fatuous idea that opposition and indignation were signs of strength.