He must find some way of re-forming the lines, and adjusting the action of the machine--now engaged in grinding out Brassfield's nomination--so as to produce other grist just as good, if that were possible. It was ticklish business, but it must be done. The time was short, but before the caucuses met a new candidate must be found, and the word passed down the line that the dear people had changed their minds over night on the subject of the next mayor. To decide, with Mr. Edgington (who fancied that he resembled the first Napoleon), was to act, and almost instantly, his forces, hastily mobilized, began an enveloping movement for the purpose of surrounding and bringing into camp a proper candidate for the local chief magistracy. Mr. Amidon was flushed after this encounter. Mr. Edgington's cool manner of approaching him with this questionable and shady political job had generated some heat in Florian--a man always possessed of strong convictions concerning civic purity. He was offended; yet he knew that it was to the turpitude of Brassfield that he owed this, rather than to any fault of Edgington's. "How could such a fellow as Brassfield reap such success!" was Amidon's mental ejaculation. "Ready to rob the community, he enjoys the confidence of all; full of the propensities of Don Juan, he wins the respect and love of Elizabeth Waldron! Shameful commentary upon society, and---- Yes, Miss Strong, who is there? Judge Blodgett: send him right in. . . . Judge, I'm glad you came in. I'm very glad! I need your advice and aid." "All right," said the judge, biting a cigar. "What's up, Florian?" "You've seen a Mr. Edgington?" "Your lawyer," replied the judge. "The _Notes_ tell all about him." "Well," resumed Amidon, "he's been here, and I learn that there is some very important litigation pending, which we've got to win, because it involves others--Miss Waldron and her aunt--and this man Brassfield never could give Edgington the evidence he needed in order to win." "Why couldn't he?" "Because," said Amidon, with the air of a man uttering something of the deepest significance, "it involves matters happening before June, 1896, and Brassfield was not in existence until the twenty-seventh of June! I've promised Edgington that you will get him the evidence he wants." "What's the nub of the case?" asked the judge. "A man claims I gave him some rights--or that Brassfield did--you understand?--" "I see." "--in March, 1896." "H'm!" exclaimed the judge contemptuously. "March, eh? Why, we can subpoena the whole town of Hazelhurst, and show that you were at that time acting as a pillar of society there, every day in that year, up to June twenty-seventh!" "But don't you see," said Amidon, "that proving this makes my whole story public?" Judge Blodgett thoughtfully gazed into space.