“Oh, I guess you do,” Stone went on, easily. “That is, you will,” he explained, suddenly realizing that he was a guest talking to his host, “if you take a little time to think it over. I knew what they meant, and I’d been thinking pretty much the same things myself. The only trouble with you, Briggs, is, you’re too easy. You don’t seem to remember that we’re not in politics for our health. Those fellows think we ought to do all our work for glory. They’ve got plenty of money themselves, and they believe we ought to get along without any.” “I suppose there’s some truth in that,” Briggs acknowledged. “But don’t you let them fool you,” Stone went on. “They’re in the game for what they can make, just as you and I are. Bah, I know ’em. When they want anything from me they come and fawn and lick my boots, just as the dirtiest of my heelers do. Then, when they find I won’t budge, they call me a thief and a scoundrel. I’ve observed, though, that in spite of being the most abused man in the country I manage to run things pretty much as I choose. Now you take warning by me. I can see plain enough that you are getting farther and farther away from the party. If you don’t look out you’ll find yourself high and dry. If you lost your grip on the machine, d’you suppose the kid-glove crowd would have any use for you? Not a bit of it.” Briggs kept silence for a moment. In the presence of this man he felt curiously helpless. Whatever might be said against Stone as a public influence, there was no doubt that he was a man of force and self-confidence. “Still,” Briggs said at last, “I’ve got to stand by my convictions, Mr. Stone.” “Oh, keep your convictions! But don’t let them make you forget you’re here in Washington because your party sent you here. Now, if you do what your party wants you’ll be all right. If you pull off your renomination next Fall you’ll have to do something for the boys. They won’t have any more shilly-shallying. I know that, because I’ve heard them say so.” Briggs smiled grimly. “Well, sir, I must say I appreciate your frankness.” Now that Stone had delivered his warning, the significance of which he knew Briggs would fully appreciate, his manner softened. “I say these things to you because I like you. You’re a credit to the machine. You’ve done mighty well here for a young man. Only don’t forget that it was the machine that made you. That’s the point. Well, it’s about time for me to be going. You’ve got a fine place here. By Jove! I envy you myself.” Douglas Briggs did not stir. He was thinking hard. The loss of his renomination in the Autumn had not occurred to him even as a possibility. He had believed that, with Stone’s support, he was firmly established in New York. “It’s very early yet, Mr. Stone,” he remarked, absently, following his guest back into the house. VII