"Now," whispered Magee to Miss Norton, "I'll get you that package. I'll prove that it was for you I fought and bled the mayor of Reuton. Watch for our chance--when I see you again I'll have it in my pocket." "You mustn't fail me," she replied. "It means so much." Mr. Magee started for the stairs. Between him and them loomed suddenly the great bulk of Mr. Cargan. His hard menacing eyes looked full into Magee's. "I want to speak to you, young fellow," he remarked. "I'm flattered," said Magee, "that you find my company so enchanting. In ten minutes I'll be ready for another interview." "You're ready now," answered the mayor, "even if you don't know it." His tone was that of one correcting a child. He took Mr. Magee's arm in a grip which recalled to that gentleman a fact the muckraking stories always dwelt on--how this Cargan had, in the old days, "put away his man" in many shady corners of a great city. "Come over here," said Cargan. He led the way to a window. Over his shoulder Magee noted the troubled eyes of Miss Norton following. "Sit down. I've been trying to dope you out, and I think I've got you. I've seen your kind before. Every few months one of 'em breezes into Reuton, spends a whole day talking to a few rats I've had to exterminate from politics, and then flies back to New York with a ten-page story of my vicious career all ready for the linotypers. Yes, sir--I got you. You write sweet things for the magazines." "Think so?" inquired Magee. "Know it," returned the mayor heartily. "So you're out after old Jim Cargan's scalp again, are you? I thought that now, seeing stories on the corruption of the courts is so plentiful, you'd let the shame of the city halls alone for a while. But--well, I guess I'm what you guys call good copy. Big, brutal, uneducated, picturesque--you see I read them stories myself. How long will the American public stand being ruled by a man like this, when it might be authorizing pretty boys with kid gloves to get next to the good things? That's the dope, ain't it--the old dope of the reform gang--the ballyhoo of the bunch that can't let the existing order stand? Don't worry, I ain't going to get started on that again. But I want to talk to you serious--like a father. There was a young fellow like you once--" "Like me?" "Exactly. He was out working on long hours and short pay for the reform gang, and he happened to get hold of something that a man I knew--a man high up in public office--wanted, and wanted bad. The young fellow was going to get two hundred dollars for the article he was writing. My friend offered him twenty thousand to call it off. What'd the young fellow do?" "Wrote the article, of course," said Magee.