"Is that proof enough?" Carrington asked, a bit of raillery in his tones.
"You should have told me of this long ago."
"I hadn't the remotest idea that Murphy's name would turn up. You can very well understand that I can not consider this man's name as an appointee."
"Why hasn't it been turned over to the district attorney?"
"The plaintiff is a patient man. He left it to me. It is a good sword, and I may have to hold it over Mr. Murphy's neck."
McDermott smiled.
"The Democratic party in this county needs a strong tonic in the nature of a clean bill. I want my appointees men of high standing; I want them honest; I want them not for what they have done, but what they may do."
McDermott smiled again. "I have made a mistake in not coming to you earlier. There is a great future for a man of your kidney, Carrington. You have a genuine talent for politics. You possess something that only a dozen men in a hundred thousand possess, a tone. Words are empty things unless they are backed by a tone. Tone holds the auditor, convinces him, directs him if by chance he is wavering. You are a born orator. Miller retires from Congress next year. His usefulness in Washington has passed. How would you like to succeed him?"