"They all went up to McQuade's office. The typewriter is a niece of mine. McQuade has heard that the senator is going to spring your name at the caucus. But that's a small matter. McQuade is going to do you some way or other."
"What do you mean?"
"Why, he sees that his goose is cooked if you run. He's determined that he won't let you."
Warrington laughed; there was a note of battle in his laughter. "Go on," he said.
"Nobody knew anything about your habits. So McQuade has sent Bolles to New York. He used to be a private detective, He's gone to New York to look up your past there. I know Bolles; he'll stop at nothing. McQuade, however, was wise enough to warn him not to fake, but to get real facts."
This time Warrington's laughter was genuine.
"He's welcome to all he can find."
"But this isn't all. I know a printer on the Times. To-morrow the whole story about your accepting the senator's offer will come out. They hope the senator will be forced to change his plans. They think the public will lose interest in your campaign. Surprise is what the public needs. I'll tell you something else. Morris, who died last week, had just sold out his interest in the Telegraph to McQuade. This means that McQuade has the controlling interest in every newspaper in town. I never heard of such a thing before; five newspapers, Democratic and Republican, owned by a Democratic boss."
Warrington smoked thoughtfully. This man McQuade was something out of the ordinary. And he had defied him.
"I am very much obliged to you, Osborne. If I win out, on my word of honor, I'll do something for you."