"Ten dollars to a drink that your man Spinney pays for the band! And when a band starts up street you can get every yag, vag, and jag in the city to trail it! You can't fool doubtful delegates that way, Seth! Go hang your badges on a hickory limb. They're only good to scare crows. You can't scare us!"
This speaker heard Harlan making inquiries for his men.
"The Colonel is down in the office," was his information, "over in the farther corner, behind one of those palms, telling war stories to Herbert Linton. Just came past 'em."
It seemed a rather happy augury to Harlan; that out of that throng his two men should have paired themselves struck him as an interesting coincidence. He found them, and quietly delivered his message.
Colonel Wadsworth stood up, gaunt, straight, twisting his sparse imperial, and blinking a bit doubtfully at the messenger. But Linton was not so much at a loss for reasons. He was an earnest young man with slow, illuminating smile.
"Has the committee seen new light regarding my two planks, Mr. Thornton?" he asked; and without waiting for answer, he led the way. The three were admitted at the private door.
United States Senator Pownal was there, evidently newly arrived from the committee-room.
The band was just coming into the square under their windows.
Its deafening clamor beat in echoes between the high buildings, the mob was roaring huzzas. The bedlam blocked conversation.
Thelismer Thornton pulled down the windows and twitched the curtains together.