gnawed to shapelessness. Left to themselves
again, the Boss said softly:--

"Two years from this fall the governorship should go to your section."

Shelby's color mantled and ebbed, leaving him white.

"Our choice,"--the Boss's purring note sank--"our choice, if my poor
opinion should carry weight with the convention, our choice will be
you."

Before Shelby could force a broken word of acknowledgment from his dry
throat the Boss had plunged into a keen analysis of the situation in
the Demijohn. Local statistics, finances, patronage, men's names,
habits, and characteristics, the minutest details, were at his
finger-tips, and the conclusion of the whole matter drove home like a
sledge.

"Your election hangs on money; on your election hangs your future."

"I've spent every cent," returned Shelby, with slow distinctness.

"Yes; I know," was the quiet rejoinder. "I have hoped that the State
Committee would do something. The circumstances are, as you say,
unusual."

The Boss leaned across the table with a smile.

"Why mince matters, my dear fellow? You shall have any sum you ask if
you will assure us of one thing. You have left your friends in doubt
as to your attitude toward the River and Harbor unpleasantness. Not
even Bowers could enlighten us. Now as far as the enemy is concerned,
it doesn't matter, but it does matter to the organization. The project
was abused beyond all reason--though that is neither here nor there.
Whatever the captious may call it, the thing has become an organization
measure, and as such a test of loyalty. Are you loyal?"

Shelby turned his drawn face toward the window. Truly he had been
brought up into a high place and shown the kingdoms of the earth.

"Yes," he answered; "I'm loyal."

CHAPTER IX

In leaving his party headquarters up-town two hours later, Shelby trod
air. Accustomed to eschew a too nice scrutiny of means if the end
seemed meet, he merged every doubt and queasiness in the recurring tide
of hope. Everything ministered to his profound content--the great
leader's parting assurances, the flattering reception at headquarters
which followed, the leap from need to affluence. It was another
atmosphere, another sun, another city.

The afternoon gayety of the streets was wholly to his mood. One need
not be an atom here. To concede a little, to dare a little--that was
the Open Sesame. He held his head sturdily erect. He looked the
impudent city in the