“That’s right,” said Reichman. “My people”--meaning the corporations whose political agent he was--“my people understand you didn’t intend to do it. They look to you to get rid of him.” Reichman said “my people” rather than “your people,” because Republican partisans being overwhelmingly in the majority in that district, the interests had him for chief political manager, and dealt with the Democratic boss only through him. If Reichman had been strictly accurate he would not have said “my people,” but “_the_ people”; for the interests are the only people who have not power in politics. “Helm’s leaving, all right,” said Branagan. “That there campaign of his used up his money. He never had no law business, and he’s smart enough to know he’ll never get none hereabouts, so long as Powers is on the bench. So he’s gone up the State to teach school.” “Well, that’s the last of _him_,” said Reichman. “I’m kind of sorry for him, Pat. He’s a damn nice young fellow.” “Yes--and a mighty good stumper, too.” With a grin, “He landed on your friend the Judge--jaw, solar plexus, kidneys--had him groggy.” The two bosses laughed uproariously. Then Branagan said: “Yes, George Helm’s a nice boy. But I don’t like him. If he’d a won out, he’d a made it hot for me--and for you, too.” “But he didn’t,” said Reichman. “And he’s all in. I can think well of the dead.” “I don’t like him,” growled Branagan. “He fooled me with those crazy red whiskers of his. I knew what he was the first time I saw him after he cut ’em off--that was the day after I put him on the ticket. When a man fools me, he makes me mad.” “He fooled everybody,” said Reichman soothingly. “And as it has turned out there’s no harm done. The way we made him walk the plank’ll be a warning to any other young smart Alecks there are in these parts, thinking of upsetting things.”