Before either of the two men could speak, the door was violently flung open and Martin Jaffry appeared. His clothing was disarranged, his manner agitated--in striking contrast to the dapper and composed appearance usual to that middle-aged little gentleman. "George," he panted, "heard anything about Genevieve?" "She's safe. Penny's got charge of her by this time." His answer was almost mechanical. "Thank God!" Uncle Martin collapsed in one of the office chairs. "Mind--if sit here minute--get my breath." George did not reply, for he had not heard. He was gazing steadily at Mr. Doolittle; some great, but as yet shapeless, force was surging up dazingly within him. But he somehow held himself in control. "Well, Doolittle," he demanded, "you said you came to ask something." Mr. Doolittle's manner was still propitiatingly bland. "I'll mention something else first, George, if you don't mind. You just remarked I'd find your answer in the _Sentinel_. There must 'a' been some little slip-up somewhere. So I guess I better mention first that the _Sentinel_ has arranged to stand ready to get out an extra." "An extra! What for?" "Principally, George, I reckon to print those answers you just spoke of." George still kept that mounting something under his control. "Answers to what?" "Why, George," the other replied softly, persuasively. "I guess we'd better have a little chat--as man to man--about politics. Meaning no offense, George, stalling is all right in politics--but this time you've carried this stalling act a little too far. As the result of your tactics, George, why here's all this disorder in our streets--and the afternoon before election. If you'd only really tried to stop these messing women----" "I didn't try to stop them by kidnapping them!" burst from George--and Uncle Martin, his breath recovered, now sat up, clutching his homespun cap. "Kidnapping women?" queried the bland, bewildered voice of the party boss. "I say, George, I don't know what you're talking about." "Why, you--" But George caught himself. "Speak it out, Doolittle--what do you want?" "Since you ask it so frankly, George, I'll try to put it plain: You been going along handing out high-sounding generalities. There's nothing better and safer than generalities--usually. But this ain't no usual case, George. These women, stirring everything up, have got the solid interests so unsettled that they don't know where they're at--or where you're at. And a lot of boys in the organization feel the same way. What the crisis needs, George, is a plain statement of your intentions as district attorney, which we can get into that _Sentinel_ extra and which will reassure the public--and the organization." "A plain statement?" There was a grim set to George's jaw.