“That I was playing bad politics? Oh, yes. And I knew it. I knew how to get in, Bill. I knew how to stay in. But when it came to a show-down I couldn’t do a dozen rotten things in order to get through one that was half way decent.”
“Well—you’ll go out, and somebody that’s altogether rotten’ll come in.”
“How about those cases?”
“I’ll take them up in a few days.” Desbrough was trying to hide his nervousness from his keen-eyed friend. “Give me another week, George.”
Helm laid a heavy hand on Desbrough’s shoulder. “What’s the matter?” he demanded.
Desbrough saw he could not evade. “This Western Timber and Mineral Company—the T. and M., as they call it—it’s a queer sort of holding corporation.”
“It’s the worst thief in this part of the world—a waster and a stealer and a starver.”
“But it’s a clever villain—the cleverest. It’s got safety hooks and lines out in every direction. If you attack it you’ll get a return volley from pretty near everything that has a voice in this state—newspapers, preachers, charity societies of every kind, doctors, lawyers, retailers. It’s wound round everything and everybody.”
“It’s the big waster, the big stealer, the big starver—and the big corruption. Now, it has defied the government of this state—the people.”
“The people doesn’t exist,” Desbrough reminded him.