“Don't you see? If he had seen Weeks early enough they might have upset me. He must be an awful fool.” Katherine followed him to the elevator with a peculiar expression. She wondered why her father's remark annoyed her. Before leaving Manchester Mr. McNally wired to the Tillman City Finance Committee an invitation to dine at the Hotel Tremain at 7.45 P.M. During the journey he matured his plan of campaign. This was not likely to be more than mildly exciting, for twenty years of political and financial juggling had fitted Mr. McNally for delicate work. In his connection with various corporations he had learned the art of subduing insubordinate legislatures without friction, if not without expense, and naturally the present task offered few difficulties. That was why, after an hour or so of thought, he straightened up in his seat, bought a paper, and read it with interest, from the foreign news to the foot-ball prospects. Mr. McNally's tastes were cosmopolitan, and now that his method was determined he dismissed M. & T. stock from his mind. He knew Tillman City, and more to the point, he knew Michael Blaney, Chairman of the Council Finance Committee. Finesse would not be needed, subtlety would be lost, with Blaney, and so Mr. McNally was prepared to talk bluntly. And on occasion Mr. McNally could be terseness itself. On his arrival he took a cab for the hotel. The Committee were on hand to meet him, and Blaney made him acquainted with the others. Michael Blaney was a man of the people. He was tall and angular, hands and face seamed and leathery from the work of earlier days, eyes small and keen, and a scraggy mustache, that petered out at the ends. He had risen by slow but sure stages from a struggling contractor with no pull, to be the absolute monarch of six wards; and as the other seven wards were divided between the pro- and anti-pavers, Blaney held the municipal reins. He still derived an income from city contracts, but his name did not appear on the bids. After dinner Mr. McNally led the way to his room, and in a few words announced that he had come for the M. & T. stock. Blaney tipped back in his chair and shook his head. “Can't do it, Mr. McNally. It ain't for sale.” “So I heard,” said McNally, quietly, “but I want it.” “You see it's like this. When they were building the line, we took the stock on a special act--” “I understand all that,” McNally interrupted. “That can be fixed.” Williams, one of the other two, leaned over the table. “We ain't fools enough to go up against Jim Weeks,” he said. “Don't worry about Weeks,” replied McNally, “I can take care of him.” “Who are you buying for?” asked Blaney. McNally looked thoughtfully at the three men, then said quietly:-- “I am buying for C. & S.C. Jim Weeks is all right, but he can't hold out against us.” “Well, I tell you, Mr. McNally, we can't sell.” “Why not?” “Outside of the original terms--and they sew us up--we never could get it through the Council.”