"You didn't overstate the fact in your brag about the political graves. Only this isn't a spade; it's a steam shovel. Do I understand you are giving me this stuff to use as I please?" "Just that," said Kent. "And you have made it serve your turn, too?" "No." Kent's voice was sharp and crisp. "Isn't that what you got it for?" "Yes." "Then why don't you use it?" "That was what Bucks wanted to know a little while ago when he came to my rooms to try to buy me off. I don't think I succeeded in making him understand why I couldn't traffic with it; and possibly you wouldn't understand." "I guess I do. It's public property, and you couldn't divert it into private channels. Is that the way it struck you?" "It is the way it struck a friend of mine whose sense of ultimate right and wrong hasn't lost its fine edge in the world-mill. I did not want to do it." "Naturally," said the editor. "Giving it up means the loss of all you have been working for in the railroad game. I wish I could use it, just as it stands." "Can't you?" "I am afraid not--effectively. It would make an issue in a campaign; or, sprung on the eve of an election, it might down the ring conclusively. I think it would. But this is the off year, and the people won't rise to a political issue--couldn't make themselves felt if they should." "I don't agree with you. You have your case all made out, with the evidence in sound legal form. What is to prevent your trying it?" "The one thing that you ought to be lawyer enough to see at a glance. There is no court to try it in. With the Assembly in session we might do something: as it is, we can only yap at the heels of the ringsters, and our yapping won't help you in the railroad fight. What do you hear from Boston?" "Nothing new. The stock is still flat on the market, with the stock-holders' pool holding a bare majority, and the Plantagould brokers buying in driblets wherever they can find a small holder who is willing to let go. It is only a question of time; and a very short time at that." The editor wagged his head in sympathy. "I wish I could help you, David. You've done a big thing for me--for the _Argus_; and all I have to hand you in return is a death sentence. MacFarlane is back." "Here? In town?" "Yes. And that isn't the worst of it. The governor sent for him." "Have you any idea what is in the wind?" asked Kent, dry-lipped. "I am afraid I have. My young men have been nosing around in the Trans-Western affair, and several things have developed. Matters are approaching a crisis. The cut-rate boom is about to collapse, and there is trouble brewing in the labor organizations. If Bucks doesn't get his henchmen out of it pretty soon, they will be involved in the smash--which will be bad for them and for him, politically." "I developed most of that a good while ago," Kent cut in.