all my other work, I've had
to go into this myself. Hunt hasn't got a chance. Bascom and Botcher are
egging him on and making him believe he has. When Hunt gets into the
convention and begins to fall off, you've got to talk to him, Vane. And
his delegates have all got to be seen at the Pelican the night before and
understand that they're to swing to Henderson after two ballots. You've
got to keep your hand on the throttle in the convention, you understand.
And I don't need to impress upon you how grave are the consequences if
this man Crewe gets in, with public sentiment behind him and a
reactionary Lower House. You've got to keep your hand on the throttle."

"That's part of my business, isn't it?" Hilary asked, without turning his
head.

Mr. Flint did not answer, but his eye rested again on his counsel's face.

"I'm that kind of a lawyer," Hilary continued, apparently more to himself
than to his companion. "You pay me for that sort of thing more than for
the work I do in the courts. Isn't that so, Flint?"

Mr. Flint was baffled. Two qualities which were very dear to him he
designated as sane and safe, and he had hitherto regarded his counsel as
the sanest and safest of men. This remark made him wonder seriously
whether the lawyer's mind were not giving away; and if so, to whom was he
to turn at this eleventh hour? No man in the State knew the ins and outs
of conventions as did Hilary Vane; and, in the rare times when there had
been crises, he had sat quietly in the little room off the platform as at
the keyboard of an organ, and the delegates had responded to his touch.
Hilary Vane had named the presidents of conventions, and the committees,
and by pulling out stops could get such resolutions as he wished--or as
Mr. Flint wished. But now?

Suddenly a suspicion invaded Mr. Flint's train of thought; he repeated
Hilary's words over to himself. "I'm that kind of a lawyer," and another
individuality arose before the president of the Northeastern. Instincts
are curious things. On the day, some years before, when Austen Vane had
brought his pass into this very room and laid it down on his desk, Mr.
Flint had recognized a man with whom he would have to deal,--a stronger
man than Hilary. Since then he had seen Austen's hand in various
disturbing matters, and now it was as if he heard Austen speaking. "I'm
that kind of a lawyer." Not Hilary Vane, but Hilary Vane's son was
responsible for Hilary Vane's condition--this recogni