“Oh!” said Wint.
“You didn’t object to it yourself,” Kite reminded him. “Isn’t that so?”
He expected Wint to be confused; but Wint only laughed. “I should say I didn’t,” he admitted. “I liked it as well as any one. Same time, this isn’t a question of liking; it’s a question of the law.” He leaned forward with a certain jeering earnestness in his voice. “Why, Mr. Kite, if I didn’t enforce the law, Hardiston people could remove me for misfeasance in office, or something like that.”
Kite said: “Bosh!” impatiently. And Wint asked him suddenly:
“What’s your interest in this?”
“That of a citizen.”
“Oh, I know you don’t sell it yourself,” said Wint, meaning just the contrary. “But, Mr. Kite, if you have any friends in the business, tell them to get out of it. It’s dead, in Hardiston. Dead and gone.”
Kite said weakly: “Amos and I came here to try and make you change your mind about that.”
Wint looked at Amos. “That so?” he asked. “You think I ought to back down?”
“‘Go it, wife; go it, b’ar,’” said Amos cheerfully. “That’s me.”