“I need scarcely say,” he explained unctuously to the group of newspaper men who were on the platform to see Hines depart, “that there is no man who condemns and deplores more than I the atrocious crime for which that wretched young man is about to pay the penalty. Still, I cannot quite forget the time when poor, misguided Jake Hines was an honest man, who enjoyed my esteem and friendship. It is in memory of those days, gentlemen, that I am here now to give him a parting handclasp. Who knows,” he added, raising his eyes piously toward the ceiling of the train shed, “but what the lingering recollection of that last touch of an old friend’s hand may soften his heart and cause his feet to seek once more the straight and narrow path after he emerges from his gloomy prison cell?” Having delivered himself of this worthy sentiment, and noting, with satisfaction, that several of the scribes were taking it down verbatim, Mr. Coggswell stepped aboard the train and approached the seat which contained Jake and the deputy sheriff. “How do you feel, my boy?” he inquired, in a sympathetic whisper. “First class, boss,” Hines assured him, with a cheerful grin. “Say, it’s mighty white of you to come to see me off, but you shouldn’t have done it. It might cause talk.” “Let evil tongues wag if they will,” was the sententious response. “You ought to know me better, Jake, than to think for a moment that I would consider myself at all in a case like this. I hope, my boy, that you are accepting this unfortunate situation with philosophy and--er--are still determined not to talk.” “Don’t worry, boss,” said Hines, with another grin. “They’re not going to get a word out of me, even though I have to stay in the jug for the full term of my sentence. I’m no squealer.” Hearing which, Coggswell exhaled a sigh of relief, and, as the train was about to get under way, took a hurried leave of his unfortunate lieutenant. “Boss,” Hines said to him wistfully, as they once more clasped hands, “I’m sorry I won’t be there to help you at the coming primary fight. I’m afraid you’ll miss me.” “I’m afraid I shall, Jake,” Coggswell answered, taking care not to speak above a whisper. “I’m afraid I shall.” And his ears were not wiggling as he said it. CHAPTER XXV. THE LAST STAND. Deprived of the services of his able lieutenant, Boss Coggswell faced the coming primary-election contest with some misgivings. He realized that he was up against the biggest battle of his political career.