"Without a question. It was the merest formality. Jennison, Hawk's former law partner, stood for the other side; but he made no argument."
"Good!" said Loring. "That will do for the day's work. But now I'd like to know how last night's job was managed."
"I'm afraid you want to know more than is good for you. What do the papers say? I haven't looked at one all day."
"They say there was a misunderstanding of orders. That will answer for the public, perhaps, but it won't do for me."
"I guess it will have to do for you, too, Grantham," said Kent, yawning shamelessly. "Five men, besides myself—six of us in all—know the true inwardness of last night's round-up. There will never be a seventh."
Loring's eye-glasses fell from his nose, and he was smiling shrewdly when he replaced them.
"There is one small consequence that doesn't please you, I'm sure. You'll have to bury the hatchet with MacFarlane."
"Shall I?" flashed Kent, sitting up as if he had been struck with a whip. "Let me tell you: Marston is going to call an extra session of the Assembly. There is a death vacancy in this district, and I shall be a candidate in the special election. If there is no other way to get at MacFarlane, he shall be impeached!"
"H'm: so you're going into politics?"
"You've said it," said Kent, subsiding among the pillows. "Now will you go?"