fair in Barry's career that would queer him with the whole community.
How your neighbor got hold of this thing, I'm jiggered if I can guess. I
thought I was the only man in the city that knew it, and it has been my
chief club to keep Barry in order. But however he got them, Percival's
facts were all square, and Barry collapsed. Now, these two patched up an
agreement. Barry promised to give up his candidacy for mayor, and stay
in his seat in the council, and Percival, on his part, agreed to keep
quiet."

"Well, that suits you all right."

"It would if it ended there, but what I started out to tell you is this:
the Municipal Club is beginning to take up city politics in earnest.
They are organizing systematically in every ward to be ready for a fight
for the council in next fall's election, and, to cap the climax, I was
told to-day that they had succeeded in getting Preston to run for mayor.
Now you know they could hardly have picked out a worse man, so far as we
are concerned. Preston is popular and strong, and he's perfectly
unapproachable. I'd as soon tackle the law of gravitation. It isn't even
pleasant for respectable citizens, like you and me, to come out publicly
against the whole movement. We can't afford to do it. Everything we do
has got to be done on the quiet."

"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