"You needn't get so hot, Jim. It'll blow over. This kind of thing always

does. It's only spasmodic. You ought to know that."

"Well, it's taking a very inconvenient time for its spasms. It may

result in spasmodically losing Billy his seat in the council in

November. Nice thing if we didn't have a clear majority of aldermen next

winter, wouldn't it?" Mr. Murdock was becoming finely sarcastic in his

rage.

"I suppose it would be inconvenient," assented Mr. Early.

"Inconvenient!" growled Murdock. "Is that the strongest swear word you

can raise? Do you happen to remember that the lighting franchise expires

next fall? Now do we want it renewed, or do we not? Can we afford to

lose the biggest thing we've got? Do we want Billy to see it through, or

do we not?"

"We certainly do."

"Well, what do you propose to do about it?"

"I don't see that there is much to do except to sit pat, and let it blow

over."

"Suppose when it blew over it should be a cyclone and you and me in the

cellar? No siree, I'm no sitter-down. I'm a fighter, even when I fight

in secret. Damn this feller, Percival, and his gift for making friends

and stirring up enthusiasm for himself! I suspect he has ambitions. So

much the worse for him, if James Murdock is in the ring against him. Do

you know my inferences? I am sure he is not one of the invulnerables.

The fact that he made a concession to Barry gives him away. He didn't

need to. If Barry can work him by a little flattery and an appeal to

their shoddy friendship, he's not one of your out-and-out,

no-compromise, reform-or-die fellows. Say, Early, you know him well.

Can't you get at him?"

Mr. Early gave one of those roundabout motions that suggest a desire to

wriggle out of the whole matter, and answered slowly: "I shouldn't wonder if the entire business petered out, anyway. It's

almost a year to the next election, and Percival is going to be married

in a few weeks to a pretty little girl, who would never stir a man's

ambitions to anything more than a smart carriage and pair. He's turned

idiotic about her, and let's hope he'll stay so. Just at present I don't

believe all the boodle and graft in the world would turn a hair on him.

Love and politics, my boy, are no more congenial than water and

oil--especially if the politics is rancid."

"We'll have to go into partnership with the lady to keep him down," said

Murdock with a grin. "I've formed more unlikely alliances than that in

my time. Why, good Lord! what's that?" he exclaimed for the second time

that night.

His eyes had fallen upon a tall white column at the back of the room,

and at his words the column moved forward and displayed the flowing

robes, the snowy white turban, the gleaming ruby of Ram Juna.




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