progressives got to fight,' he says. 'Wake up. You need a
change here. Try this nice red apple, and you'll see things the way I
do.' And the woman fell for it. You know what happened."

"An original point of view," said the dazed professor.

"Yes, Doc," went on Mr. Cargan, evidently on a favorite topic, "it's the
reformers that have caused all the trouble, from that snake down. Things
are running smooth, folks all prosperous and satisfied--then they come
along in their gum shoes and white neckties. And they knock away at the
existing order until the public begins to believe 'em and gives 'em a
chance to run things. What's the result? The world's in a worse tangle
than ever before."

"You feel deeply on the subject, Mr. Cargan," remarked Magee.

"I ought to," the mayor replied. "I ain't no writer, but if I was, I'd
turn out a book that would drive this whiskered hermit's argument to the
wall. Woman--bah! The only way women make trouble is by falling for the
reform gag."

Mr. Peters here interrupted with the dessert, and through that course
Mr. Cargan elaborated on his theory. He pointed out how, in many states,
reform had interrupted the smooth flow of life, set everything awhirl,
and cruelly sent "the boys" who had always been faithful out into the
cold world seeking the stranger, work. While he talked, the eyes of Lou
Max looked out at him from behind the incongruous gold-rimmed glasses,
with the devotion of the dog to its master clearly written in them. Mr.
Magee had read many articles about this picturesque Cargan who had
fought his way with his fists to the position of practical dictator in
the city of Reuton. The story was seldom told without a mention of his
man Max--Lou Max who kept the south end of Reuton in line for the mayor,
and in that low neighborhood of dives and squalor made Cargan's a name
to conjure with. Watching him now, Mr. Magee marveled at this cheap
creature's evident capacity for loyalty.

"It was the reformers got Napoleon," the mayor finished. "Yes, they sent
Napoleon to an island at the end. And him without an equal since the
world began."

"Is your--begging your pardon--is your history just straight?" demurred
Professor Bolton timidly.

"Is it?" frowned Cargan. "You can bet it is. I know Napoleon from the
cradle to the grave. I ain't an educated man, Doc--I can hire all the
educated men I want for eighteen dollars a week--but I'm up on
Bonaparte."

"It seems to me," Miss Norton pu