"More than three-fourths vote. Sure."
"I'm depending upon you."
"Will you turn down Donnelly at the convention?"
"I tell you he's got to run again. I'll bring him to order, after a little heart-to-heart talk. He's the only man in sight."
"Why not play the same game as Henderson?"
"I've thought it all out. There's no one but Donnelly. Pick up anything you can about Warrington."
"All right. By the way, the boys want to know if you think we can pull off those ten-round bouts this winter."
"I'm going down to the capital to see."
Martin telephoned for his team, and twenty minutes later he was driving countryward. McQuade dictated a few letters, one of which he directed to be sent by messenger. Then he left the office and called upon the editor of the Times. This conference lasted an hour. McQuade was chief owner of the Times.
Warrington was greatly surprised when, at three-thirty, a message was brought to him requesting him briefly and politely to do Mr. McQuade the honor to call on him between four and five that afternoon. He had met McQuade at the Chamber of Commerce dinner. The introduction had been most formal. What the deuce did McQuade wish to see him about? Should he go? A natural aversion to the man said no; but policy urged him as well as curiosity. He went to the telephone and called up McQuade's office. Mr. McQuade was not in, but would return at four. Ah! It was the typewriter who spoke. Would she kindly notify Mr. McQuade on his return that Mr. Warrington would be at his office at four-thirty? She would. Thanks.