find out something definite?"

"It's a good idea, Senator. I'll do it this very morning."

"Has McQuade any personal grudge against you?"

"Not to my knowledge."

"He's a bad enemy, and often a downright unscrupulous one. If it's
only politics, I'll have a chat with him myself. You pump the
newspapers. You leave it to me to swing the boys into line at the
convention."

Then they proceeded to go over the ground thoroughly. Something must
be done with the newspapers. The delegates and minor bosses were
already grumbling. Had nothing appeared in the newspapers,
Warrington's nomination would have gone through without even minor
opposition. But the Republican machine was in sore straits. If
Donnelly won this time, it would mean years of Democratic rule in an
essentially Republican town. McQuade must be broken, his strong
barricades toppled; and now that there would be no surprise for the
public, the majority of the delegates began to look doubtfully upon
what they called the senator's coup. They wanted the City Hall, and
they did not care how they got there. Warrington was a fine chap, and
all that, but his acquaintanceship was limited. He could not go about
shaking hands like Donnelly, who knew everybody, high and low. The
laboring man knew nothing about Warrington, save that he was famous
for writing plays they had not seen, nor would have understood if they
had. Warrington was a "swell"; he had nothing in common with the man
who carried the dinner-pail.

"And there the matter stands, my boy," concluded the senator, shifting
his cigar from one corner of his mouth to the other. "If I can swing
the convention the rest will be plain sailing, once you start
speech-making. Oh, McQuade is clever. He knew that by exposing my hand
he would lessen your chances. But you tackle the newspapers and see
what can be done. And good luck to you."

McQuade came down early that morning. The first thing he did was to
call on the editor of the Times.

"Here's something," he said, tossing a few typewritten pages on the
editor's desk. "This'll settle Warrington's hash, Walford."

"What is it?" asked Walford.

"Read it and see for yourself." McQuade sat down and picked up the
early New York papers.

Walford read slowly. When he reached the last paragraph he returned to
the first and read the article through again. He laid it down and
faced his employer.

"Mr. McQuade, the Call and the Times are the only papers in town that
pay di