“Then we can end the discussion in two seconds. I decline to apologize, I refuse to accept an apology from you, and I’ll see you in Jericho before I’ll retract a word I’ve said about the Bannester affair. The only thing I will say to you is that I hadn’t the faintest idea of running for office when I helped those poor old ladies out of their trouble. You can lump it if you—”
“And what’s more,” broke in Mr. Sikes, heatedly, “this nomination was forced on Oliver against the wishes of his friends and family. When his poor old father sees in the newspapers that Oliver is headed for the halls of state, he’ll break his heart. No matter where Ollie is, he grabs up the newspaper every morning of his life to see what the news is from Rumley—”
“Is that so?” snarled Mr. Gooch. “Well, I’m not so sure of that, Mr. Swipes—I’m not so sure of it, and neither are a great many other people. There are people in this county—yes, right here in this town—that would like to know a lot more about what has become of my poor brother-in-law than they know at present.”
“I am one of those people, Uncle Horace,” said Oliver quietly.
“And don’t you go calling Ollie Baxter a brother-in-law,” snorted Mr. Sikes. “I won’t stand here and let you slander my lifelong friend by calling him a brother-in-law. If you’ll get out of that automobile, I’ll—”
“Hold your horses, Joe,” put in Mr. Link, clutching his crony’s arm.
“Oh, he can’t bulldoze me,” said Mr. Gooch loftily.
“Smash him, Mr. Sikes,” whispered young Marmaduke Smith, excitedly.
Horace turned to his nephew. “It rests with you, young man, whether a certain investigation takes place or not,” he said, threateningly.
“What do you mean by investigation?” demanded Oliver, his eyes narrowing. “Just what are you driving at?”