“I haven’t had time to look at the papers yet,” Briggs remarked, absently.
“Here they are, sir.”
“All right.”
Michael kept his position. “Ned said it was fine the way yer drove the lies down their throats, sir.”
“Oh, well, I had to get back at ’em somehow,” Briggs replied, carelessly.
Michael assumed a more familiar attitude. “Sure, it’s a shame the things they say about a man when he’s in politics. There was Miles O’Connor, over in the Ninth Ward, one of the foinest men——”
“I guess that’ll do, Michael,” Briggs interrupted. “Have those telegrams sent as soon as you can.”
Michael hurriedly left the room. “Yes, sir,” he said at the door.
Briggs passed one hand over his forehead. “God!” he muttered. “I have to keep up this bluff even before my servants.” Just as he resumed work he heard Michael’s tap again. “Come in,” he cried, impatiently.
“Here’s something that just come by messenger, sir,” said Michael.