King gave him an odd look. "I have feeling that one cannot change his destiny," he said. "If I am to be killed--then so be it ... Kismet, as the Orientals say. But meanwhile I'll fight corruption. I'll call men by name and shout their sins from the housetops. We'll wake up the town, or my name isn't James King of William.... Won't we, James?" He clapped a hand on Nesbitt's shoulder. The other turned half irritably. "What? Oh, yes. To be sure," he answered and resumed his writing. Charles Gerberding, who held the title of publisher in the new enterprise, looked up from his ledger. "If this keeps up," he said, smiling and rubbing his hands, "we can enlarge the paper in a month or so." He shut the volume with a slam and lighted a cigar. "Hello, Coleman, how are the Vigilants? I'm told you still preserve a tacit organization." "More of the spirit than substance," said Coleman smiling. "I hope we'll not need to revive it." "Not so sure," responded Gerberding. "This man here," the cigar was waved in King's direction, "this editor of ours is going to set the town afire." Coleman did not answer. He went out ... wondering whether Isaac Bluxome was in town. Bluxome had served as secretary for the Vigilance Committee of '51. CHAPTER XXXIX RICHARDSON AND CORA Business went on with at least a surface calm of new stability. Politics brought forth occasional eruptions, mostly twixt the Abolitionists and Slavery parties. Each claimed California. Broderick more than ever held the reins of state and city government. But the latter proved a fractious steed. For all his dauntless vigor and political astuteness, Destiny as yet withheld from Broderick the coveted United States senatorship. At best he had achieved an impasse, a dog-in-the-manger victory. By preventing the election of a rival he had gained little and incurred much censure for depriving the State of national representation. Benito and Alice tried to rouse him from a fit of moodiness as he dined with them one evening in November. Lately he had made a frequent, always-welcome third at their evening meal. "Cheer up, Dave," Benito rallied, as he raised a glass of wine. "We'll be reading your speeches in the Washington reports before many years have gone by. Come," he said to his wife, "let's drink to the future of 'The Gentleman from California.'" Broderick smiled; his glass clinked against those of his two companions. He gazed a moment musingly at both; then quaffed his liquor with a touch of haste. Alice Windham's eyes were troubled. "David," she was hesitant, yet earnest. "It is really necessary to associate with people such as--well, you know ... James Casey, Billy Mulligan, McGowan?"