"But you wouldn't think he'd fight a boy."
"What is it?" asked Carlton, with a trace of impatience. "What's he doing now?"
"He's written a letter to the Sergeant-at-Arms, demanding the dismissal of Barry Wynn on the charge of conduct unbecoming an employé of the Government. In a word, he's after the official scalp of our young friend."
John Carlton sprang from his chair, his honest face red with anger. He brought his big fist down on the desk in front of him with such force that the ink bottles danced in sympathy with his passion.
"Well, he won't get it—and you can tell him that for me."
Conway laughed in spite of himself.
"You're not taking this thing seriously too, are you?"
"So much so that I'll stake my reputation on beating Hudson."
But the journalist held up a restraining hand.
"One moment, please," he said, "this is my business, and I'd like you to keep out of it—for the present, at least."