“We certainly do.”
“Well, what do you propose to do about it?”
“I don’t see that there is much to do except to sit pat, and let it blow over.”
“Suppose when it blew over it should be a cyclone and you and me in the cellar? No siree, I’m no sitter-down. I’m a fighter, even when I fight in secret. Damn this feller, Percival, and his gift for making friends and stirring up enthusiasm for himself! I suspect he has ambitions. So much the worse for him, if James Murdock is in the ring against him. Do you know my inferences? I am sure he is not one of the invulnerables. The fact that he made a concession to Barry gives him away. He didn’t need to. If Barry can work him by a little flattery and an appeal to their shoddy friendship, he’s not one of your out-and-out, no-compromise, reform-or-die fellows. Say, Early, you know him well. Can’t you get at him?”
Mr. Early gave one of those roundabout motions that suggest a desire to wriggle out of the whole matter, and answered slowly:
“I shouldn’t wonder if the entire business petered out, anyway. It’s almost a year to the next election, and Percival is going to be married in a few weeks to a pretty little girl, who would never stir a man’s ambitions to anything more than a smart carriage and pair. He’s turned idiotic about her, and let’s hope he’ll stay so. Just at present I don’t believe all the boodle and graft in the world would turn a hair on him. Love and politics, my boy, are no more congenial than water and oil—especially if the politics is rancid.”
“We’ll have to go into partnership with the lady to keep him down,” said Murdock with a grin. “I’ve formed more unlikely alliances than that in my time. Why, good Lord! what’s that?” he exclaimed for the second time that night.
His eyes had fallen upon a tall white column at the back of the room, and at his words the column moved forward and displayed the flowing robes, the snowy white turban, the gleaming ruby of Ram Juna.
“Pardon my interruption,” said the Hindu courteously. “I have been out. I am but just returned. And I come to assure myself that all is well with my admirable host.”
“Ah, Murdock, this is my friend, the Swami. He’s going to stay with me while he writes a book. I’ve given him the west ell, off in the quiet of the garden, you know,” said Mr. Early.