“No news?”
“The Ninth District has gone for you by 235,” said Farley.
Briggs lifted his eyebrows. “Two thirty-five? Is that all? I thought we were sure of five hundred at least. Oh, well!”
“Things ought to begin to hum soon,” said Guy, rising to give up the seat at the desk. As Briggs took the chair, Michael appeared at the door.
“There’s a messenger outside with a letter, sir. He says he was told to give it to you yourself, and to wait for an answer.”
“Tell him to come in. You’d better take a rest, Farley,” said Briggs. “Don’t you newspaper men ever get tired?”
Farley smiled. “Not when there’s a little excitement in the air.”
A moment later a messenger followed Michael into the room. He was a man of nearly forty, and his uniform gave him an air of youth that his deeply lined face and his figure denied. He looked about aimlessly.
“Congressman Briggs?” he said.
“Yes.” Briggs extended his hand.