When his friends met at the club and found Governor Eastman one of the dinner party, they resented the presence of that dignitary as likely to impose restraints upon Burgess, who, for all his jauntiness, was not wholly without discretion. But the governor was a good fellow, as they all knew, and a story-teller of wide reputation. Moreover, he was taking his job seriously, and, being practical men, they liked this about him. It was said that no governor since Civil War times had spent so many hours at his desk or had shown the same zeal and capacity for gathering information at first hand touching all departments of the State government. Eastman, as the country knows, is an independent character, and it was this quality, shown first as a prosecuting attorney, that had attracted attention and landed him in the seat of the Hoosier governors. “I suppose,” remarked Kemp as they sat down, “that these tablets are scattered around the table so we can make notes of the clever things that will be said here tonight. It’s a good idea and gives me a chance to steal some of your stories, governor.” A scratch pad with pencil attached had been placed at each plate, and the diners spent several minutes in chaffing Burgess as to the purpose of this unusual table decoration. “I guess,” said Goring, “that Web is going to ask us to write limericks for a prize and that the governor is here to judge the contest. Indoor winter sports don’t appeal to me; I pass.” “I’m going to write notes to the House Committee on mine,” said Fanning; “the food in this club is not what it used to be, and it’s about time somebody kicked.” “As I’ve frequently told you,” remarked Burgess, smiling upon them from the head of the table, “you fellows have no imagination. You’d never guess what those tablets are for, and maybe I’ll never tell you.” “Nothing is so innocent as a piece of white paper,” said the governor, eyeing his tablet. “We’d better be careful not to jot down anything that might fly up and hit us afterward. For all we know, it may be a scheme to get our signatures for Burgess to stick on notes without relief from valuation or appraisement laws. It’s about time for another Bohemian oats swindle, and our friend Burgess may expect to work us for the price of the dinner.” “Web’s bound to go to jail some day,” remarked Ramsay, the surgeon, “and he’d better do it while you’re in office, governor. You may not know that he’s hand in glove with all the criminals in the country: he quit poker so he could give all his time to playing with crooks.” “The warden of the penitentiary has warned me against him,” replied the governor easily. “Burgess has a man at the gate to meet convicts as they emerge, and all the really bad ones are sent down here for Burgess to put up at this club.”