“And, of course, he told this to French, and French told you,” said Ratcliffe; “I see. If I had known this I would not have let French off so gently last night, for I prefer to tell you my own story without his embellishments. But it was my fault. I should not have trusted a page. Nothing is a secret here long. But one thing that Mr. Cutter did not find out was that several other gentlemen wrote letters at the same time, for the same purpose. Your friend, Mr. Clinton, wrote; Krebs wrote; and one or two members.” “I suppose I must not ask what you said?” “You may. We agreed that it was best to be very mild and conciliatory, and to urge the President only to give us some indication of his intentions, in order that we might not run counter to them. I drew a strong picture of the effect of the present situation on the party, and hinted that I had no personal wishes to gratify.” “And what do you think will be the result?” “I think we shall somehow manage to straighten things out,” said Ratcliffe. “The difficulty is only that the new President has little experience, and is suspicious. He thinks we shall intrigue to tie his hands, and he means to tie ours in advance. I don't know him personally, but those who do, and who are fair judges, say that, though rather narrow and obstinate, he is honest enough, and will come round. I have no doubt I could settle it all with him in an hour's talk, but it is out of the question for me to go to him unless I am asked, and to ask me to come would be itself a settlement.” “What, then, is the danger you fear?” “That he will offend all the important party leaders in order to conciliate unimportant ones, perhaps sentimental ones, like your friend French; that he will make foolish appointments without taking advice. By the way, have you seen French to-day?” “No,” replied Madeleine; “I think he must be sore at your treatment of him last evening. You were very rude to him.” “Not a bit,” said Ratcliffe; “these reformers need it. His attack on me was meant for a challenge. I saw it in his manner. “But is reform really so impossible as you describe it? Is it quite hopeless?” “Reform such as he wants is utterly hopeless, and not even desirable.” Mrs. Lee, with much earnestness of manner, still pressed her question: “Surely something can be done to check corruption. Are we for ever to be at the mercy of thieves and ruffians? Is a respectable government impossible in a democracy?” Her warmth attracted Jacobi's attention, and he spoke across the room. “What is that you say, Mrs. Lee? What is it about corruption?” All the gentlemen began to listen and gather about them. “I am asking Senator Ratcliffe,” said she, “what is to become of us if corruption is allowed to go unchecked.” “And may I venture to ask permission to hear Mr. Ratcliffe's reply?” asked the baron.