; so is Salton, and old man Glenn, and the rest of
the bunco family. They're framing it up. When I saw old Glenn go in,
with his white side-whiskers, I knew the widow and the orphan were in
danger again, and that he was going bravely to the front for 'em. Say,
that young Banks is comin', isn't he? That's a peach, that cartoon of
his to-night."

Kittrell went on down the hall to the art-room to wait until Benson
should be free. But it was not long until he was sent for, and as he
entered the managing editor's room he was instantly sensible of the
somber atmosphere of a grave and solemn council of war. Benson
introduced him to Glenn, the banker, to Salton, the party boss, and to
Burns, the president of the street-car company; and as Kittrell sat down
he looked about him, and could scarcely repress a smile as he recalled
Manning's estimate of Glenn. The old man sat there, as solemn and
unctuous as ever he had in his pew at church. Benson, red of face, was
more plainly perturbed, but Salton was as reserved, as immobile, as
inscrutable as ever, his narrow, pointed face, with its vulpine
expression, being perhaps paler than usual. Benson had on his desk
before him the cartoon Kittrell had finished that day.

"Mr. Kittrell," Benson began, "we've been talking over the political
situation, and I was showing these gentlemen this cartoon. It isn't, I
fear, in your best style; it lacks the force, the argument, we'd like
just at this time. That isn't the _Telegraph_ Clayton, Mr. Kittrell." He
pointed with the amber stem of his pipe. "Not at all. Clayton is a
strong, smart, unscrupulous, dangerous man! We've reached a crisis in
this campaign; if we can't turn things in the next three days, we're
lost, that's all; we might as well face it. To-morrow we make an
important revelation concerning the character of Clayton, and we want to
follow it up the morning after by a cartoon that will be a stunner, a
clencher. We have discussed it here among ourselves, and this is our
idea."

Benson drew a crude, bald outline, indicating the cartoon they wished
Kittrell to draw. The idea was so coarse, so brutal, so revolting, that
Kittrell stood aghast, and, as he stood, he was aware of Salton's little
eyes fixed on him. Benson waited; they all waited.

"Well," said Benson, "what do you think of it?"

Kittrell paused an instant, and then said:

"I won't draw it; that's what I think of it."

Benson flushed angrily and looked up at him.

"We