"Yes. Walk right in." Moore stepped forward and stood aside for Hall to precede him to the inner room, closing and locking the door. "We'll not be interrupted here. I've been wanting to see you for six weeks—never made it until last night."
After a little talk of the weather and of the political outlook, Moore thought best to approach his subject boldly.
"How are you feeling towards Burroughs, Joe?"
"Just like a kitten—a soft, purry kitten." Hall was heartily metaphorical, as he opened his pocket knife mechanically. "If you want to feel my claws, just ask me to vote for that damn thief! You'll think that I live in four different atmospheres. You and Bob Burroughs may be able to buy the rest of the Legislature, but you can't buy me—so don't ask my price!" Senator Hall had thought long on what he should say when solicited by the Honorable William, and he had his bluster volubly perfect. "Any man but Burroughs may go to Congress, but he never shall!" He continued to pare his nails.
Moore was not at all deceived. He had heard men talk before, and he detected the false ring of Hall's words. Herein Joe miscalculated. He thought to deceive a man steeped in conspiracy and deceit. Nevertheless, Moore was politic, and made no haste.
"Why not forget bygones, Joe? You would have done the same thing yourself in your deal with Burroughs if you had had the first chance at those Easterners."
"Would I?" snorted Hall.
"Isn't there any inducement that we can offer you to support Burroughs?"
"None whatever. My constituents would hang me in effigy if I voted for him. I was on the stump last fall and went on record."
"Your constituents! The voters! What are they? Cattle driven into a chute! They don't know the true inwardness of State politics. There aren't six men who do."