Judge Bromley had resigned from the bench of the Circuit Court to become the general attorney of a railroad than ran up out of Egypt to tap the central portion of Illinois, and he was the local attorney for a number of other roads. His railroads would have been pleased to have him in Congress, no doubt, though they would have preferred to have him on the bench of the United States Court. And it was with this prospect in veiled view that he had consented to run for Congress in a district where the normal majority was greatly against him, knowing that his sacrifices would commend him to the administration at Washington in case the national ticket of his party was successful. Another man sat with Bromley in his private office that October morning. He sat tentatively, if not timidly, on the edge of his chair, for the conversation had not reached such a stage of confidential warmth on the lawyer's part as warranted the man in lounging at more familiar ease in its leather depths. The man was McFarlane, and he was the chairman of the congressional committee of the party that had nominated Bromley to stand in the Thirteenth against Garwood. "I have already sent my checks to the chairman of each county committee in payment of my assessments, Mr. McFarlane," the lawyer said at length. "Sure, I know that, Judge," said McFarlane, "but things is changed now--I tell you you've got more'n a fightin' chance to win out." "You think this story of Mr. Garwood's irregularities--his alleged irregularities," he corrected himself with a lawyer's absurd habit of care in his words, "will seriously impair his prospects, then?" "W'y, sure, why wouldn't it?" McFarlane urged. "We can make it." "Ah, make it," observed Bromley. "But how, if you will oblige me? You must pardon my lack of knowledge of the--ah--technique of politics, Mr. McFarlane." "Oh, that's all right, Judge," McFarlane hastened to say, with a reassuring generosity of soul. "How'll we make it? Why, use it--that's how; we'll make Jerry defend his record in the House. We'll get the people to see it--that's how." "But will the people believe it? They are slow, you know, to believe these stories of boodling, as I believe it is called. The newspapers have a good deal to say of it from time to time, but I doubt if the people take it much more seriously than the rest of the current and conventional jokes of the press. Do you think they'll believe it? That question occurs to me as material at this point of our----" "Believe it! Do you think these farmers around here'd refuse to believe anything when you tell 'em the corporations is behind it? Don't you think they won't believe it!" "You have no doubt, then, of its authenticity?" "Oh, course, I don't say as to that. Jerry's a good fellow, all right enough. I ain't sayin', between ourselves, what he done at Springfield--it's none o' my business, you know." "I presume not."