There was a growl of approval in chorus from the larger group at the foot of the stairs. Thornton's men were at one side and looked troubled.
"War Eagle" Ivus Niles stepped forth then. He had recovered his buck sheep. He was hoarse, but still full of zeal.
"I want to ask you this, Tyrant Thornton: You ain't quite so sure that you're Lord Gull, monarch of all you survey, since my brother Bartholomew showed you the power of the law triumphant, are you?" But the taunt did not alter the tolerant smile on the Duke's face.
"Go ahead and get in all your yelps," he said, under his breath. "A hound loves company."
"When we start in to purify, we propose to purify in good shape!" cried another. "And a reverend elder ain't a mite too good for us as representative to the legislature."
"Some people think they are purifying when they burn a rag," observed the Duke, serenely. He lighted another cigar, beaming through the smoke on the glowering minister.
"Don't take that wrong, elder. I respect decency in politics. I respect men who are trying to clean things up. But before I'll let you disinfect me, I'll have to see your license and know what system you're using."
"You've got to fight the devil with fire!" roared the War Eagle.
"You mustn't steal my own plan of campaigning, Ivus. I've got a copyright on that."
He had been studying the situation there outside the town hall while he talked. Two men from the shire town, wearing the nickel badges of deputy sheriffs, stood at the foot of the stairs. A group of men that he knew to be his loyal supporters from his own village were standing at one side. He strolled over to them.