third of 'em pretty well slewed! I
am myself. But I'm honest about it. They're drinking rum in about every
room in this hotel. And they're going into convention to-morrow and nail
that prohibitory plank into the platform with spikes. By Judas, I'm
honest in my _business_; now I want to have a chance to be honest in my
_politics_!"

The Duke gazed down on him good-humoredly. He was accustomed to
overlook the little delinquencies of his fellows on such festal
occasions as State Conventions.

"You're asking too much out of party politics, Phon," he declared.
"There are drawbacks to all the best things; seeing that the National
platform won't let you vote as you think, you can hardly ask the State
platform to be perfect and let you vote as you drink."

But his friend was not in the mood for jovial rallying.

"By the gods, if you old bucks that have been running things ain't going
to give us a show--if we ain't going to get our rights from our own
party--I know what I can do! I can vote the Democratic ticket, and I
know of a lot more that will. You're asleep, you managers!"

"Well, Phon, when you vote as you drink--voting the Democratic
ticket--you'll vote for a popocratic tax on corporations that will make
your woollen-mill look sick. And that's only _one_ thing!"

"I know what I will do," insisted the rebel.

The Duke took him by his two shoulders.

"So do I," he returned. "You'll have a bath, a shave, four hot towels,
and a big bromo-seltzer--all in the morning, and you'll go into the
State Convention and stick by the party, just as you always have done.
But as for to-night--why, Phon, I wouldn't be surprised to see you
pledge yourself to Arba Spinney."

He gayly shoved the man to one side and went on.

"Well, even Fog-horn is getting more votes corralled than you old blind
mules realize!" shouted the other after him. "This party is sick! You're
going to find it out, too!"

"Sick it is, but I reckon here's the doctor," muttered the old man,
hurrying toward the top of the stairs.

General Waymouth had appeared there, Harlan close behind him.

The Duke forestalled those who hastened to greet the veteran. Taking
his arm, he marched him promptly across the corridor and into the rear
room of State Committee headquarters. He locked the door behind them
after Harlan had entered.

"I don't think we're exactly ready for that public reception yet," he
observed with a chuckle, turning from the door. He glanced at t