“She is fighting for her father's life,” cried Shirley, “and you, Mr. Jefferson, should have pleaded—pleaded—not demanded. It's no use trying to combat your father's will.”
“She is quite right, father. I should have implored you. I do so now. I ask you for God's sake to help us!”
Ryder was grim and silent. He rose from his seat and paced the room, puffing savagely at his cigar. Then he turned and said:
“His removal is a political necessity. If he goes back on the bench every paltry justice of the peace, every petty official will think he has a special mission to tear down the structure that hard work and capital have erected. No, this man has been especially conspicuous in his efforts to block the progress of amalgamated interests.”
“And so he must be sacrificed?” cried Shirley indignantly.
“He is a meddlesome man,” insisted Ryder “and—”
“He is innocent of the charges brought against him,” urged Jefferson.
“Mr. Ryder is not considering that point,” said Shirley bitterly. “All he can see is that it is necessary to put this poor old man in the public pillory, to set him up as a warning to others of his class not to act in accordance with the principles of Truth and Justice—not to dare to obstruct the car of Juggernaut set in motion by the money gods of the country!”