“Don't say anything,” said the editor, “but I think there will be an extra edition of the TIMES out to-morrow.”
CHAPTER XV. Difficulties
Eliph' had said nothing to Doc Weaver about the affair of the fire-extinguishers, he had known nothing of the graft matter, and yet it could not be supposed that Doc Weaver could be a confidant of the attorney's. The editor was puzzled, but he was sure he was right in the main, and he was nearer learning the truth than he supposed, as he hurried down the street to the mayor's car-cobbler shop.
He opened the door and stepped inside, but the mayor did not look up with his usual smile; he was sulking, and from time to time he rubbed his head where the butcher had struck him.
“How do, Stitz,” said the editor. “How's the mayor?”
The cobbler pulled his waxed threads angrily through a tough bit of leather, and did not look up.
“I am no more a mayor,” he said crossly. “I am out of that mayor job. I give him up. I haf been insulted.”
“I saw it,” the editor assured him. “He gave you a good whack. Sounded like a wet plank falling on a marble slab. Mad about the fire-extinguishers business, wasn't he?”
“And why?” asked the mayor, looking up for the first time, “he has a right to obey those ordinances and not get mad.”