"We've got the trick," Slocum commented in reply to my desire for action. "And Marx, who managed this business for Carmichael, is shrewd enough to see it. _They_ won't bother us." There was some comfort in that reflection: no matter what the scandal might be, we had the London and Chicago properties in our possession, and nothing short of a long fight in court could wrest them from our control. "The only thing to do," the lawyer continued, "is to keep quiet. The papers will bark while the election is on, and it looks mighty bad for Garretson. But out here most people forget easily." It was queer to hear old Slocum talking in that cynical tone, as if, having accepted the side that was not to his taste, he took pleasure in pointing out its safety. "Well," I grumbled, thinking of May and Sarah, "it's mighty uncomfortable to be held up by rats like Lokes, Frost, and company, and then be branded as a briber!" "What do you care?" Slocum asked harshly. "It won't hurt _you_ much. You'll make money just the same, and there aren't many who would lay this up against you. Of course, there are always a few who are shrewd enough to guess just about what has happened, and remember,--yes, remember a story for years! But you don't care for their opinion!" I knew that he was thinking of the honest men in his own profession, the honorable men at the head of the bar, who would mark him henceforth as my hired man. Hostetter arrived soon, a shifty look in his eyes. He had changed a good deal since that time he had slept out on the lake front. He was a heavy man, now, with a fleshy face, and his dress showed a queer love for loud finery. He wore a heavy seal ring, and a paste diamond in his tie, which was none too clean. His sandy mustache dropped tight over his mouth. Yet in spite of his dress and his jewellery, he was plainly enough the countryman still. "Ed," I said at once, "have you been talking to any one about that matter of the bonds--the deal with Lucas Smith?" He glanced at Slocum and then at me. One look at his face was enough: the story was there. "You low dog!" I broke out. Slocum tried to hush me. Hostetter muttered something about not knowing what we were talking about. "You're lying, Ed! Tell me the whole truth. Did you sell what you knew to the _Nationalist_, or to Frost and his crowd?" He became stubborn all at once, and refused to answer. I turned to the lawyer:-- "See that man! I picked him out of the bankruptcy court two years ago, after giving him his third start in business. Last winter I sent his wife South and kept her there six months so that she could get well." I turned to Ed. "Whose bread are you eating now, to-day?" He picked up his hat and started for the door. But I called him back. It came over me all at once what we had been through together, and I couldn't let him leave that way, sneak out of my sight for good and all.