"Man is the blindest of the mammals. You'd think as smart a man as Dr. Nesbit would see his own vices. Here he is mayor of Harvey, boss of the town. He buys men with Morty's father's money and sells 'em in politics like sheep--not for his own gain; not for his family's gain; but just for the joy of the sport; just as I follow the ladies, God bless 'em; and yet he stands up and reads me a lecture on the wickedness of a little more or less innocent flirting." The young man lighted his cigar at the alcohol flame on the counter. "Morty," he continued, squinting his eyes and stroking his mustache, and looking at the boy with vast vanity, "Morty, do you know what your old dad and yon virtuous Nesbit pasha are doing? Well, I'll tell you something you didn't learn at military school. They're putting up a deal by which we've voted one hundred thousand dollars' worth of city bonds as bonus in aid of a system of city water works and have given them to your dad outright, for putting in a plant that he will own and control; and that he will build for seventy-five thousand dollars." Van Dorn smiled a placid, malevolent smile at the group and went on: "And the sheik of the village there helped Daniel Sands put it through; helped him buy me as city attorney, with your father's bank's legal business; helped buy Dick Bowman, poor devil with a houseful of children for a hundred dollars for his vote in the council, helped work George here for his vote in the council by lending money to him for his business; and so on down the line. The Doc calls that politics, and regards it as one of his smaller vices; but me?" scoffed the young man, "when I go gamboling down the primrose path of dalliance with a lady on each arm--or maybe more, I am haled before the calif and sentenced to his large and virtuous displeasure. Man,"--here young Mr. Van Dorn drummed his fingers on the showcase and considered the universe calmly through the store window--"man is the blindest of mammals." After which smiling deliverance, Thomas Van Dorn picked up his morning paper, and his gloves, and stalked with some dignity into the street. "Well, say,"--Brotherton was the first to speak--"rather cool--" "Shame, shame!" cried John Kollander, as he buttoned up his blue coat with its brass buttons. "Where was Blaine when the bullets were thickest? Answer me that." No one answered, but Captain Morton began: