“Oh, that!” Briggs threw back his head and laughed, but with a suggestion of bitterness. “Why, to my certain knowledge, they’ve been saying that about me for the past five years--ever since I entered Congress. In fact, there’s hardly been a big political steal that I haven’t been in.” “But the _Chronicle_ people are pretty strong, you know,” Farley insisted. “I don’t give a snap of my finger for them.” “Then you won’t let me deny the story for you?” There was a ring of disappointment in Farley’s voice. For a moment Briggs did not speak. Then he said, slowly: “Farley, I know you mean all right, and I know you’d like to do me a good turn. You _Gazette_ people have been mighty good friends to me. You’ve stood by me when I had almost no other friends on the independent press; in fact, no friends.” Farley’s brow knotted. “But if you’ll only let us show there’s nothing in the story!” Briggs shook his head. “No, not one word! I discovered before I’d been in public life three months it was simply a waste of time to deny campaign stories. When a man goes into politics,” he concluded, bitterly, “he makes himself the target of all the blackguards in the country.” “But, Congressman,” Farley pleaded, “just a word would be enough.” “No. I’m older than you are, and I know what I’m talking about. I care so little about this particular story that I made a point of getting Franklin West to come here to-night. He’s the man, you know, who’s supposed to be at the bottom of that railroad scandal.” “There’s not another man in your position who’d dare to take the bull by the horns like that,” said Farley, his brow clearing. “I assure you,” Briggs replied, reassuming his confidential manner, “it’s the only way of treating the bull.” Farley held out his hand. “I’m glad to have had this little talk with you, Congressman.” Briggs took the hand firmly. “Look in on me at the House to-morrow; I may have something for you.” “Thank you,” said Farley, as he ascended the steps. IV Douglas Briggs stood motionless. His face was hot; he could feel his pulse beating in his temples. Sometimes he wondered if he betrayed the fever that the mere mention of that railroad and the scandals connected with it always caused him. The music had begun again, and he could hear the dancers and the loud talk, broken by laughter. Some of the voices he recognized, among them Fanny’s and Guy Fullerton’s. His wife’s voice he could not hear. He started at the sound of a quick footfall. When he looked up Franklin West’s white teeth were gleaming at him from the head of the stairs. “Oh, here you are!” said West. “I’ve been trying to get a chance to speak to you all evening.” He looked hard at Briggs, and the smile faded. “Anything the matter?” Briggs drew his arm away and West let his hand drop to his side. “Yes. Farley, of the New York _Gazette_--you know him, don’t you? I’ve just been having a talk with him--he says the _Chronicle_ is getting ready to jump on me.”