“Say, son,” interrupted Conover with perfect sincerity, “what in blazes is the matter with you and Parkman? You’ve bit into a mare’s nest, an’ any practical man’ll tell you so. Of course a contractor’s goin’ to make what he can on a job. He ain’t in the business for his health or to endow the city, is he? He’s got to get his, an’ the pol’ticians who throw the job to him have got to get theirs. An’ that bein’ so, how’s he goin’ to foller out all the arch’tect’s spec’fications an’ still make the right money out of it? He _can’t_. I thought ev’rybody knew that much pol’tics.” “Conover,” observed Caine, in unwilling admiration. “I’ve heard people say you’re a man of bad morals. It isn’t true. You’re simply a man of no morals at all. Do you mean to say--?” “I mean to say business is business an’ pol’tics is business too. I never heard of any good comin’ from mixin’ up morals with either of ’em. If you came here to-day to tell me this story, with an idee that I’d slap my manly brow an’ say: ‘Great heaven! Can such things be?’ you’ve brought your s’prise party to the wrong house. Of course, Shevlin made a good thing out of those two buildin’s. Even after the folks higher up had got their rake-off, I guess he must a’ cleaned up close to $800,000. An’ then the old fool went an’ blowed it all in Wall Street, an’ died before he could make a new pile. But, say! What’s this got to do with--?” “With Miss Shevlin? I am coming to that. This ‘mare’s nest,’ as you call it, that Parkman has unearthed, may look harmless to you and to other practical business-politicians. But to nine people out of ten it will have very much the look of bare-faced robbery. So much so that it will prove the biggest newspaper sensation of the year. Mr. Shevlin will be everywhere spoken of as--” “I catch your meanin’!” broke in Caleb, “The ‘Holier’n Thou’ crowd will raise a yell, drag Shevlin out of his snug, comf’table grave an’ croocify him. He’ll be spoke of by the papers an’ by the man on the street as the rottenest grafter of the century. An’ ev’rywhere Dey goes, folks’ll nudge each other an’ whisper: ‘Them fine clo’es was bought out o’ the dough her ol’ man stole from the city.’ An’ all the time there’s no less than a dozen cases of city graft goin’ on in Granite to-day that are raw enough to make Shevlin’s deals look like a game of Old Maid! Still,” he muttered, dropping his head on his chest in thought, “all that won’t keep this story from queerin’ Dey in s’ciety and givin’ her a black eye as the daughter of a crook.” “That’s why I put off Parkman till I could see you,” explained Caine, “He came direct to me with the news. It’s lucky I happened to be in town. If he had gone to my managing editor instead, there would be a scare-head Extra on the streets by now.” “Well,” returned Conover, “the story’s got to be hushed up, of course. An’ I hate to pay hush-money. But I guess this is one of the times when it’s got to be done. I wonder what’s Parkman’s price?”