l the almost
total blindness with which early excesses had afflicted
Christopher Buckley.

"Sit down, my friend," spoke the boss. His tone held a crisp cordiality,
searching and professionally genial. "What d'ye want ... a story?"

"Yes," said Stanley.

"About the election?"

Stanley hesitated. "Tell me about the gambling concession at Platt's
Hall," he said suddenly.

Buckley's manner changed. It became, if anything, more cordial.

"My boy," his tone was low, "you're wasting time as a reporter. Listen,"
he laid a hand upon Francisco's knee. "I've got a job for you.... The
new Mayor will need a secretary ... three hundred a month. And extras!"

"What are they?" asked Francisco curiously.

"Lord! I don't have to explain that to a bright young man like you....
People coming to the Mayor for favors. They're appreciative ...
understand?"

"Well," Francisco seemed to hesitate, "let me think it over.... Can I
let you know," he smiled, "tomorrow?"

Buckley nodded as Francisco rose. As soon as the latter's back was
turned the little sharp-eyed man came trotting to his master's call.
"Follow him. Find out what's his game," he snapped. The little man sped
swiftly after. Buckley made another signal. The top-hatted
representative of railway interests approached.

* * * * *

Francisco stopped at Robert's office on his way home. Windham had moved
into one of the new buildings, with an elevator, on Kearney street. In
his private office was a telephone, one of those new instruments for
talking over a wire which still excited curiosity, though they were
being rapidly installed by the Pacific Bell Company. Hotels,
newspapers, the police and fire departments were equipped with them,
but private subscribers were few, Francisco had noticed one of the
instruments in Buckley's saloon.

Robert had not returned from court, but was momentarily expected. His
amanuensis ushered Francisco into the private office. He sat down and
picked up a newspaper, glancing idly over the news.

A bell tinkled somewhere close at hand. It must be the telephone. Rather
gingerly, for he had never handled one before, Francisco picked up the
receiver, put it to his ear. It was a man's voice insisting that a
probate case be settled. Francisco tried to make him understand that
Robert was out. But the voice went on. Apparently the transmitting
apparatus was defective. Francisco could not interrupt the flow
of words.

"S