Still no reply was made. The honorable gentleman looked at his guests leeringly, but found no responsive glance.
“In vino veritas,” whispered Condor to his neighbor Belch. William Condor was always clean in linen and calm in manner.
“Don’t be ‘larmed, fel-fel-f’-low cit-zens! Lawrence Newt’s no friend of mine. I guess his G—— d—— pride ‘ll get a tumble some day; by G—— I do!” Abel added, with a fierce hiss.
The guests looked alarmed as they heard the last words. Abel ceased, and passed the decanter, which they did not decline; for they all felt as if the Honorable Abel Newt would probably throw it at the head of any man who said or did what he did not approve. There was a low anxious murmur of conversation among them until Abel was evidently very intoxicated, and his head sank upon his breast.
“I’m terribly afraid we’ve burned our fingers,” said Mr. Enos Slugby, looking a little ruefully at the honorable representative.
“Oh, I hope not,” said General Belch; “but there may be some breakers ahead. If we lose the Grant it won’t be the first cause or man that has been betrayed by the bottle. Condor, let me fill your glass. It is clear that if our dear friend Newt has a weakness it is the bottle; and if our enemies at Washington, who want to head off this Grant, have a strength, it is finding out an adversary’s soft spot. We may find in this case that it’s dangerous playing with edged tools. But I’ve great faith in his want of principle. We can show him so clearly that his interest, his advance, his career depend so entirely upon his conduct, that I think we can keep him straight. And, for my part, if we can only work this Grant through, I shall retire upon my share of the proceeds, and leave politics to those who love ‘em. But I don’t mean to have worked for nothing—hey, Condor?”
“Amen,” replied William, placidly.
“By-the-by, Condor,” said Mr. Enos Slugby.
Mr. Condor turned toward him inquiringly.
“I heard Jim say t’other day—”