In the second week of January I revolted against the doctors and nurses and had my political secretary, Wheelock, telephone for Woodruff--the legislature had elected him to the Senate three days before. When he had sat with me long enough to realize that I could bear bad news, he said: "Goodrich and Burbank have formed a combination against you." "How do you know?" said I, showing no surprise, and feeling none. "Because"--he laughed--"I was in it. At least, they thought so until they had let me be safely elected. As nearly as I can make it out, they began to plot about ten days after you fell sick. At first they had it on the slate to do me up, too. But--the day after Christmas--Burbank sent for me--" "Wait a minute," I interrupted. And I began to think. It was on Christmas day that Burbank telephoned for the first time in nearly three weeks, inquiring about my condition. I remembered their telling me how minute his questionings were. And I had thought his solicitude was proof of his friendship! Instead, he had been inquiring to make sure about the reports in the papers that I was certain to recover, in order that he might shift the factors in his plot accordingly. "When did you say Burbank sent for you?" I asked. "On Christmas day," Woodruff replied. I laughed; he looked at me inquiringly. "Nothing," said I. "Only an old joke--as old as human nature. Go on." "Christmas day," he continued; "I didn't get to him until next morning. I can't figure out just why they invited me into their combine." But I could figure it out, easily. If I had died, my power would have disintegrated and Woodruff would have been of no use to them. When they were sure I was going to live, they had to have him because he might be able to assassinate me, certainly could so cripple me that I would--as they reasoned--be helpless under their assaults. But it wasn't necessary to tell Woodruff this, I thought. "Well," said I, "and what happened?" "Burbank gave me a dose of his 'great and gracious way'--you ought to see the 'side' he puts on now!--and turned me over to Goodrich. He had been mighty careful not to give himself away any further than that. Then Goodrich talked to me for three solid hours, showing me it was my duty to the party as well as to myself to join him and Burbank in eliminating the one disturber of harmony--that meant you." "And didn't they tell you they'd destroy you if you didn't?" "Oh, that of course," he answered indifferently. "Well, what did you do?" "Played with 'em till I was elected. Then I dropped Goodrich a line. 'You can go to hell,' I wrote. 'I travel only with men'." "Very imprudent," was my comment. "Yes," he admitted, "but I had to do something to get the dirt off my hands." "So Burbank has gone over to Goodrich!" I went on presently, as much to myself as to him.