"Yes, I think I have. The chap's a fiddler in a theater orchestra. Big, fine looking. But I can't imagine that he has the brains to make a winning fight." "Big! Fine looking! Hm!" repeated Stanley. "Meaning--what?" asked Robert. "Nothing much.... I just remembered something Ruef was telling me." He walked on thoughtfully. "Might be a story there for the boy's paper," he cogitated. Ruef's offices were at the corner of Kearney and California streets. Thither, with some half-formed mission in his mind, Francisco took his way. A saturnine man took him up in a little box-like elevator, pointing out a door inscribed: A. RUEF, Att'y-at-Law. The reception-room was filled. Half a dozen men and two women sat in chairs which lined the walls. A businesslike young man inquired Francisco's errand. "You'll have to wait your turn," he said. "I can't go in there now ... he's in conference with Mr. Schmitz." Francisco decided not to wait. After all, he had learned what he came for. Abe Ruef had borrowed a "presence." CHAPTER LXXV A NOCTURNAL ADVENTURE Stanley was to learn much more of Eugene Schmitz. It was in fact the following day that he met Ruef and the violinist at Zinkand's. Schmitz was a man of imposing presence. He stood over six feet high; his curly coal-black hair and pointed beard, his dark, luminous eyes and a certain dash in his manner, gave him a glamor of old-world romance. In a red cap and ermine-trimmed robe, he might have been Richelieu, defying the throne. Or, otherwise clad, the Porthos of Dumas' "Three Musketeers." Francisco could not help reflecting that Ruef had borrowed a very fine presence indeed. Ruef asked Francisco to his table. He talked a great deal about politics. Schmitz listened open-eyed; Stanley more astutely. All at once Ruef leaned toward Francisco. "What do you think of Mr. Schmitz--as a candidate for Mayor?" he asked. "I think," Francisco answered meaningly, "that you have chosen well." They rose, shook hands. To Francisco's surprise Schmitz left them. "I have a matinee this afternoon," he said. Ruef walked down Market street with Stanley. "He's leader of the Columbia orchestra.... I met him through my dealings with the Musicians' Union." Impulsively he grasped Francisco's arm. "Isn't he a wonder? I'll clean up the town with him. Watch me!" "And, are you certain you can manage this chap?" Ruef laughed a quiet little laugh of deep content. "Oh, Gene is absolutely plastic. Just a handsome musician. And of good, plain people. His father was a German band leader; his mother is Irish--Margaret Hogan. That will help. And he is a Native Son." Ruef babbled on. He had a great plan for combining all political factions--an altruistic dream of economic brotherhood. Francisco listened somewhat skeptically. He was not certain of the man's sincerity, but he admired Ruef. Of his executive ability there could be no doubt.