"George, you old roughneck--" began Penny. "George," interrupted Genevieve, still chokingly, her protective, wifely instinct now at the fore, "I saw you hit, and we're going to take you straight home----" "Cut it all out," interrupted the cultured Mrs. Herrington. "This isn't Mr. Remington's honeymoon--nor his college reunion--nor the annual convention of his maiden aunts. This is Mr. Remington's campaign, and I'm his new campaign manager. And his campaign manager says he's not going away out to his home on Sheridan Road. His campaign headquarters are going to be in the center of town, at the Commercial Hotel, where he can be reached--for there's quick work ahead of us. Come on." Five minutes later they were all in the Commercial Hotel's best suite. "Now, to business, Mr. Remington," briskly began Mrs. Herrington. "Of course, that was a good speech. But why, in heaven's name, didn't you come out with it before?" "I guess I really didn't know where I stood until today," confessed George, "and today I tried to come out with it." And George went on to recount his experience with the _Sentinel_--his scene with Doolittle--and Doolittle's plan for an extra of the Sentinel, which was doubtless then in preparation. "So they've got the _Sentinel_ muzzled, have they--and are going to get out an extra repudiating you," Mrs. Herrington repeated. There came a flash into her quick, dark eyes. "I want our candidate to stay right here--rest up--get his thoughts in order. There are a lot of things to be done. I'll be back in an hour, Mr. Remington. The rest of you come along--you, too, Mrs. Remington." Mrs. Herrington did not altogether keep her word in the matter of time. It was two hours before she was back. To George she handed a bundle of papers, remarking: "Thought you'd like to see that _Sentinel_ extra." "I suppose Doolittle has done his worst," he remarked grimly. He glanced at the paper. His face went loose with bewilderment at what he saw--headlines, big black headlines, bigger and blacker than he had ever before seen in the politically and typographically conservative _Sentinel_. He read through a few lines of print, then looked up. "Why, it's all here!" he gasped. "The kidnapping of Miss Eliot and Genevieve by Noonan's men--my break with Doolittle, my denunciation of the party's methods, my coming out as an independent candidate--that riot on Main Street! How on earth did that ever get into the _Sentinel_?" "Some straight talk, and quick talk, and the exercise of a little of the art of pressure they say you men exercise," was the prompt reply. "I telephoned Mr. Ledbetter of the _Sentinel_ advising him to hold the extra Mr. Doolittle had threatened until he heard from Mr. Wesley Norton, proprietor of the Norton Dry Goods Store. You know, Mr. Norton is the _Sentinel_'s largest single advertiser and president of the Whitewater Business Men's Club.