“I don't know what you mean. I expected to meet Mr. Hutchings here. Is he ill?”
“He'll get well soon, I reckon; but after taking a perscription from Gulmore, he's mighty bad and can't leave the house.”
“What do you mean?”
“I mean that Hutchin's has withdrawn his candidature as Mayor. I mean that the 'Herald' has the announcin' of it. I mean it's a put-up job between him and Gulmore to ruin the Democratic party in this town. I mean—”
As the Professor drew back in amazement, young Cartrell stepped in front of him and addressed Simpson:
“What proof have you of what you say?”
“Proof! Proof enough. Does an honest man resign a candidature on the morning of an election, and give the other side the news before his own party?”
The interruption had given Roberts time for reflection. He felt that Simpson's facts must be right. It was characteristic of him that his first thought was, Had Hutchings withdrawn in order to save him from further attacks? No. If he had he'd have told him before the event. A sort of nausea overpowered him as he remembered that Hutchings had related how Gulmore had bought Patrick Byrne—and now he, too, had sold himself. As in a flash Hutchings' weakness of fibre was laid bare to him. “That's the reason I couldn't find him yesterday.” His heart sank within him. “How could Hutchings have been so—?” With the belief in the lawyer's guilt came the understanding that he too was concerned, suspected even. Disgust of traitorism, conscious innocence impelled him to clear himself—but how? To his surprise he found that companionship with these men had given him some insight into their character. He put the question to Simpson:
“Can anything be done now?”
The steadiness of the tone, the resolve in his face, excited a certain curiosity. Shrugging his shoulders, Simpson replied: