t Sullivan thought he
knew a great deal more than he did.

"I'm going to support Reilly," went on Sullivan. "I don't know that
I have such great influence as the papers credit me with, but what I
have is for my friend, William Reilly. You can say for me that I
think he served well in the Legislature and is entitled to another
term. As for Mr. Kilburn, who I hear would like the nomination, he
is an excellent young man. I know little about him, but I believe he
would do well. But I believe in rewarding good work, and so I am for
Mr. Reilly."

"Do you want to say anything about Potter and the new line?" asked
Larry, though if Sullivan had said anything about them the reporter
would have been decidedly in the dark as to what the politician was
driving at.

"I guess you've got enough out of me for one day," replied Sullivan
with a smile. "It's more talking than I've done in a long while--to
reporters," he added. "Lots of 'em would give a good bit to have
what you've got, and I wouldn't have given it to you, only I think
you're smarter than I gave you credit for. Now you tell me where you
heard about Potter."

"I can't," answered Larry, truthfully enough, for he did not feel
that he could betray one of Sullivan's own men, because of the talk
he had inadvertently overheard. "Sometime I may."

"I'll have to cultivate your acquaintance," the district politician
remarked as Larry went out.

The young reporter hurried to the _Leader_ office, having hastily
jotted down what Sullivan had said. He felt he had secured a piece
of news that would prove a big item that day.

"What luck?" asked Mr. Emberg, rather indifferently, as Larry came
up to the city editor's desk to report.

"I've got the interview."

"I s'pose he gave you a lot of hot air that doesn't mean anything.
See if you can dress it up a bit. We haven't many displays to-day."

"Sullivan is going to support Reilly," announced Larry, quietly.

"What?" almost shouted Mr. Emberg. "Did he tell you that?"

"He did," answered Larry, wondering why Mr. Emberg was so excited.

CHAPTER IX

EVERYTHING BUT THE FACTS

The city room, that had been buzzing and humming with the talk of
several reporters, seemed strangely quiet as Larry gave his answer.
His remarks had been heard by several. The clicking typewriters
stopped, and those operating them looked up.

"Say that again," spoke Mr. Emberg, as though a great deal depended
on it.

"Sullivan is going to su