uldn't have said it for fear
of hurting our feelings--but I somehow had gathered the impression that
the major believed a gentleman, if he drank at all, should drink at his
club. But it was long after midnight now and the Shawnee Club would be
closed. Ike Webb spoke up presently.

"It's a pity we couldn't dig up the governor tonight," he said.

The governor had come down from the state capital about noon, and all
the afternoon and during most of the evening Webb had been trying to
find him. There was a possibility of a big story in the governor if Webb
could have found him. The major, who had been sitting there stirring his
toddy in an absent-minded sort of way, spoke up casually: "I spent an
hour with the governor tonight--at my club. In fact, I supped with him
in one of the private dining rooms." We looked up, startled, but the
major went right along. "Young gentlemen, it may interest you to know
that every time I see our worthy governor I am struck more and more by
his resemblance to General Leonidas Polk, as that gallant soldier and
gentleman looked when I last saw him----"

Devore, who had been sitting next to the major, with his shoulder half
turned from the old man, swung round sharply and interrupted him.

"Major," he said, with a thin icy stream of sarcasm trickling through
his words, "did you and the governor by any remote chance discuss
anything so brutally new and fresh as the present political
complications in this state?"

"Oh, yes," said the major blandly. "We discussed them quite at some
length--or at least the governor did. Personally I do not take a great
interest in these matters, not so great an interest as I should,
perhaps, take. However, I did feel impelled to take issue with him on
one point. Our governor is an honest gentleman--more than that, he was a
brave soldier--but I fear he is mistaken in some of his attitudes. I
regard him as being badly advised. For example, he told me that no
longer ago than this afternoon he affixed his official signature to a
veto of Senator Stickney's measure in regard to the warehouses of our
state----"

As Devore jumped up he overturned the major's toddy right in the major's
lap. He didn't stop to beg pardon, though; in fact, none of us stopped.
But at the door I threw one glance backward over my shoulder. The major
was still sitting reared back in his chair, with his wasted toddy
seeping all down the front of his billowy shirt, viewing our vanishing
figure