Ware smiled disarmingly.
"Nothing at all, Judge, that you wouldn't have done of your own volition. I want you, if you are convinced such a course is a just one, to take the case from the jury and throw it out of court. Now, wait a minute. I see you're angry and, as I said, the matter in a way is rather delicate to talk about. But come, I'll say frankly, I'm interested in you. We need men like you. Quick, intelligent and able to see their way. The progress of the city depends upon such men. You know Jennings?"
"Your attorney."
"Yes, in full charge of our legal department. There's another case for you of an intelligent, quick-witted man, scrupulously honest but not an ass. Six years ago Jennings was a judge on the municipal bench. Wasted ... utterly wasted ... today—"
Basine interrupted, his voice harshened.
"An analogy. I see. Thanks."
He stood up. Ware reached out his hand.
"I don't think you quite understand me," he murmured.
"Perfectly," Basine answered. "And I've given my word that whatever I understood would be forgotten."
Words welled into Basine's mind. An almost uncontrollable impulse to confound his host with a violent denunciation struggled in him. He would tell this traction baron what manner of man he, Basine, was. And what the dignity of his position as judge was. He would throw the bribe back into the man's teeth. He would declaim. Virtue. Outrage. Creatures who sought to use their power to influence justice. Who thought themselves able to drag men of honor to their level by the promise of favors.