"No need, Mr. Commissioner," Brennan said. "We'd like you to stand for a photograph, if you have no strenuous objection." Gibson smiled. "I suppose I'll have to," he said. "How do you want me?" The photographer, called in from another room, set up his camera. "One at your desk first, Mr. Gibson," he said. Gibson drew a small pocket mirror and looked into it, smoothing back the hair that had irritated John when they first met because it was so perfect. John saw Brennan wink at him. "How's this?" asked Gibson, seating himself at his desk, turning toward the camera in his swivel chair and holding a sheet of letter paper as though he had been disturbed by the photographer in the middle of the reading of an important document. "Fine, hold it," said the photographer. The flashlight boomed, sending a puff of white smoke into the air. "You had better take another, I blinked my eyes that time," said Gibson. "Gotcha before you blinked," the photographer explained. "Now one standing if you please, Mr. Gibson. Bend over a little. That's it, clinch your fist and raise it up as though you were going to hit someone. That's it. Fine, thank you." The flashlight boomed again, filling the room with smoke. "I dislike this business of posing for photographs," Gibson said. "I suppose it has to be, though." Brennan tipped another wink to John. This time John winked back. On their way back to the office John asked Brennan what he thought of Gibson and his statement. "It's a story, a good one," said Brennan. "One of the kind that's always good. Wealthy young reformer wants to clean up town. Out to clean up the police department. It's always gone big since Roosevelt did it in New York. Lot of bromides in the statement 'hew to the line and let the chips fall where they may,' 'fair name of our great city being dragged in the mire' and stuff like that, but it'll get over." John was somewhat surprised by Brennan's way of answering. "And what about Gibson?" he asked. "Gibson may be sincere and he may not. He's either a comer or a sap. If he means what he says and goes through with it, he'll have the whole city behind him. If he's just doing a lot of grandstanding or if he's playing someone's political game, that's another thing. Just remember one thing, we may need it some time; remember what he said when I asked him if he was out to be mayor!" John was unwilling to take the skeptical attitude shown by the older reporter. "If he really has no idea of running for mayor, what else could cause him to do what he says he will except a sincere desire to keep things clean and straight?" he asked. "Well," said Brennan, "some of them are out for glory and some of them play a deeper game. Sometimes it's a girl." John thought of Consuello. "Maybe he's in love with fair Consuello," Brennan suggested, smiling. "Wants to do something big and glorious to win her."